#being good at one doesn’t mean you’re good at the other

[pochaccoups]

facetime — choi seungcheol & yoon jeonghan

pairing — choi seungcheol x yoon jeonghan x f!reader

summary — when three people in a relationship want to fuck but one of them is in a different country, facetime comes in pretty handy.

wc — 4k

warnings — nsfw content minors dni! smut, established polyamorous relationship, threesome (technically), phone sex, butt plugs, anal and vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, so much dirty talk, soft dom!seungcheol, brat tamer!seungcheol, prone bone, creampie, slight daddy kink, reader referred to as a girl, a lot of ‘cheollie’ and ‘hannie’ sorry but i think they sound cute

author’s note — umm hi can u tell i had so much fun writing this …… this will be part of a poly jeongcheol series i have in the works so pls stay tuned and enjoy !!! :>

seungcheol: just finished up the show, what are you up to?

jeonghan: busy.

Attached is a photo that’s slightly shaky and dimly lit, but Seungcheol can make out every detail of you with Jeonghan’s cock halfway down your throat. 

It takes less than a second for Seungcheol’s caller ID to pop up on Jeonghan’s phone screen, and Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Yah… You know I hate being left out,” is the first thing Seungcheol says. The sound of his deep voice makes you draw your mouth off of Jeonghan.

“Cheollie?” you ask, beaming as you snatch your boyfriend’s phone from his hands so that you can see your other boyfriend through the screen. 

“Hi, pretty,” Seungcheol says, waving. He looks hot, but that’s a perpetual characteristic of his. He hasn’t removed his makeup yet, and his hair, getting longer, is still styled from the show. “Miss me?”

“So much. We both do,” you say with a grin. You make a show of mouthing at Jeonghan’s cock for the camera, sticking out your tongue so you can slap the tip on it, swirling it around, all with a faint mischievous gleam in your eyes at the sound of one boyfriend’s whines and the other’s sulking.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really seem like you do,” Seungcheol says, laying back on a bed that’s way too soft, too cold, too far away. 

“Seungcheollie, you know how needy our girl is-ah,” Jeonghan pipes up, moaning as you wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down. 

“I do know, and you’re not innocent either, Jeonghan. You miss getting your pretty little ass fucked, don’t you?” 

You worry Jeonghan will bust then and there from the way his cock twitches in your mouth, but fuck was Seungcheol right. It’s why you all prefer to have sex with all three of you present, because at this point having someone missing feels… weird. Not bad. Definitely not. But the absence of a third lover becomes far too apparent.

Right now, you and Jeonghan don’t have much of a choice though. Duty calls, meaning Seungcheol is touring on the other side of the world—has been for the last two weeks and will be for another two weeks. Jeonghan would be with him if it weren’t for his enlistment. Alas, you have Seungcheol’s voice to do what it does best: tell you two exactly what to do. 

“Take all of him, baby, you know you can,” he says, soft and slightly commanding in a way that makes you want to do good just for him, make him proud. And you’ve taken Seungcheol, who’s a little longer and far thicker, all the way down your throat many, many times before that swallowing Jeonghan’s entire length feels like a mere warmup. 

Pride swells through you when your two boyfriends curse above you, filling you with an eagerness to give them more. So while one of your hands holds the phone, albeit shakingly, your other hand pumps the base of Jeonghan’s cock, in rhythm with your mouth as you bob up and down. It’s wet and obscene, the way you lap up the precum that leaks from your boyfriend’s tip only to let it spill from your lips and drool all over him, all over your fingertips. 

Your eyes never break away from Seungcheol, who’s chewing on his bottom lip and staring at you with eyes that are both clouded over with desire and dark with concentration. If you know your boyfriend then he’s thinking of all the things he would do if he was in the same room as you two.

Jeonghan doesn’t expect it when one of your spit-slick fingers creeps down to his ass and traces his hole, and he squirms and cries as you prod at his opening before pushing inside. He’s taken Seungcheol many, many times, too, that your finger should feel like a warmup, but two weeks without his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out is torture, so the slide of your digit in and out is a sweet relief that he’s forgotten. 

You pull your mouth away from him, sitting up on your knees so that you can angle the camera for Seungcheol to watch as your finger dips in, all the way to your knuckle, then back out of Jeonghan’s hole. 

“He’s so whiny today, Cheollie.”

“Mm, more than usual, huh?” he replies, licking his lips, his hand reaching to his crotch to palm at it just a little. He thinks about how his fingers are twice as thick as yours, how Jeonghan would sob if it was his hands inside him. 

“He misses your fat cock,” you say, and Seungcheol feels his sanity jump straight out of his hotel window. You’ve always proven detrimental to his patience and self-control, taking years off of your poor boyfriend’s life with your bratty ways. “Right, Hannie?” you say, right as you pull your finger out of him, grinning as he squirms and curses under his breath as a reply.

You only stop fingering him because you have an idea. With the phone still in hand, you dangle yourself off the side of the king bed to open one of the bedside table drawers, grab the silver heart-shaped plug and bottle of lube, then clamber back between your boyfriend’s legs. Jeonghan watches with glistening eyes as you drizzle the plug with lube. Once it’s drenched, you flip the phone camera around, letting Seungcheol watch as you press the tapered end of the plug against Jeonghan’s hole. The cold toy makes him flinch at first, and he shudders as you circle his rim with it until he’s thoroughly smeared with the sticky liquid. 

The sound Jeonghan makes when you push the plug inside of him is pitiful, and it’s in harmony with a deep groan of approval from Seungcheol. You’re the furthest one from dominant among the three of you, and yet you have these men dangerously wrapped around your finger. Your men.

“There,” you say, content, like you’ve just painted a masterpiece—and your boyfriend’s pretty ass with a cute heart-shaped butt plug nestled inside comes pretty close. 

“That’s my girl. So thoughtful,” says Seungcheol, and his praise ignites you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals the highest of promotions. 

“Can I make him eat me out now?” you ask, because it’s Cheol who does this best; sets the pace, tells you what to do, lets you sit in the palm of his hand while he does all the thinking for the three of you. A true leader, through and through. 

“Keep sucking Hannie off, baby, just for a bit,” is his instruction. It would be easy to disobey him, yes, to disconnect the call and turn off the phone if you so pleased, but the thing about Seungcheol is that even when his voice is soft, it still commands. 

You pout only for the sake of pouting because, really, having Jeonghan’s cock in your mouth is one of your favourite pastimes. You waste no time swallowing him all the way down to his base again, only to pop right back off him just to hear a tortured moan from him. You fall back into an up and down bobbing rhythm then, steadily, lips wrapped tight around your boyfriend’s length in the way that you know won’t make him last long. 

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol calls out, but the man in question is too busy whining and whimpering to hear him. When he’s close his brain all but shuts off and the only thing he can do is take whatever he’s getting with pretty, pretty moans. 

“Baby, don’t let him cum yet,” Seungcheol urges you instead. 

Jeonghan nearly sobs this time when you pop your mouth off his cock, but there’s a force in Seungcheol’s voice that compels you to listen. “Yes, daddy,” you say—the cherry on top.

Seungcheol drags a hand over his face, groaning. “Fuck, you two want me dead, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you two are disgusting… and annoying,” says Jeonghan, who sounds thoroughly irritated as a cute frown knits his brows together. 

Poor, poor you, with not one but two needy, jealous boyfriends who can’t stand not being the subjects of all your affection. If it was you in Seungcheol’s position, alone on the other side of the world, you would never get this sulky. You’d be completely rational about it. Obviously.

The urge to soothe Jeonghan comes as an instinct, one that makes you crawl up from between his legs so that you can straddle his slender waist and kiss his pouting lips. He melts into you when you do, mouth moulding against yours so sweetly, his hands falling to your waist and the tips of his fingers dancing softly against your skin. The Facetime call is forgotten, much to Seungcheol’s dismay, as you drop the phone to the bed in favour of cradling Jeonghan’s cheeks in your hands so that you can kiss him harder. Your crotch, still clothed, rocks back and forth over his erection and soon you’re moaning into one another’s mouths, muffled by your tongues that are swirling together. 

Jeonghan doesn’t have half of Seungcheol’s strength to manhandle you around, so he opts to gently guide you off his lap and onto the bed until you’re underneath him. He kisses you once, twice, thrice, leaves you reeling as he moves on to pepper your neck with soft nibbles and scrapes of his teeth. He pulls away for a moment only to drag your t-shirt (one of Seungcheol’s, of course) up and over your head. 

Now that you’re less occupied with Jeonghan’s lips, you pick up the phone again and bring the camera up to your face, grinning at Seungcheol’s small pout on the screen. If you could only hop through the phone and into his lap, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Cheollie, wanna see your cock, please,” you say, shivering as Jeonghan mouths at one of your nipples. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue as his hands reach up to grasp your tits delicately, and you sigh when his warm, wet mouth envelops one of your hardened buds. 

“Not yet, baby, I’ll take it out when Jeonghan fucks you, okay?” 

Seungcheol chuckles fondly at your unhappy hum, so he adds, “I wanna cum with you two, yeah?”

“Okay, fine- wait, Hannie,” you whine. “My boobs.”

He peers up, already between your legs, having decided he was done giving attention to your tits. You see right through it—your boyfriend is nothing if not vengeful. 

“You’re too spoiled,” he quips, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs, exposing your drooling pussy to him. 

“And you’re used to Cheollie doing everythi-ahh!” Jeonghan cuts you off when he licks your cunt without warning, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your hand grabbing a fistful of his now-short hair. He’s far from rough and aggressive, but it’s precisely the patient softness of his touch that leaves you keening for more. 

“Baby, can you do me a favour?” Seungcheol asks, practically cooing as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure.

But all you can focus on is the way that Jeonghan’s warm tongue flicks lazily over your clit as well as the grip of his fingers on your thighs. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol tries again, only a little louder. This time your eyes flick to him on the screen and you make a little affirmative noise. “Will you flip the phone screen around for me, please? I wanna watch Hannie eat your pretty pussy.”

You do as he asks, pointing the camera to give Seungcheol a view of his boyfriend between his girlfriend’s thighs. 

“Good girl,” he says, breathier now, his tone darker. It’s deliberate; malicious, you would say—his praise makes you a whiny, needy mess. His voice alone turns you into a slut and he knows that because you’d told him that, word for word. “And since I’m not there, can you play with your tits for me, baby? The way that I would do it? I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still feel good.” 

“Mhm,” you moan. You find yourself closing your eyes as you let go of Jeonghan’s hair and bring your hand to cup your own breast, to squeeze and grope at it, to tweak and tug at your nipple, all while imagining that you’re leaned against your boyfriend’s sturdy, broad body and that it’s his big, unrelenting hand cupping your tits and not your own. 

At the same time, Jeonghan eats your pussy like the fiend that he is. Unlike Seungcheol, who lacks the control to stop himself from ravaging you like an animal until your pussy is raw and puffy, Jeonghan is much more, as he is in all aspects of his life, calculated. He’ll string you along with swipes of his tongue that seem coy until he’s making passes through your folds, prodding at your dripping, awaiting entrance. He licks into your hole and sips at your arousal like it’s honey, intent on making you fall apart slowly.

“How does his mouth feel, angel? Tell him,” says Seungcheol, whose lips have gotten swollen from his relentless chewing on them.

“God, Hannie, feels so good,” you squeak, your eyes still screwed shut as if that’ll help soothe the heat that burns through your body from Jeonghan’s mouth. Your fingers keep pinching at your nipple, and then Jeonghan slips two of his fingers into your heat, sending your hips bucking against his face and leaving you whining desperately, shamelessly. 

While his mouth makes out with your cunt, Jeonghan’s fingers dip in and out of you, massaging at your most sensitive spot over and over. He finds it with practiced ease, and he knows by now exactly what kind of vigour it needs to have you crying. He’s practically petting at your insides, your walls clamping around his fingers as your moans start to grow louder.

“H-hannie, I’m close, please, right there,” you squirm as your walls attempt to suck his fingers in.

You don’t see it, but his eyes flash with something devilish. Your other boyfriend sees it, though. 

“Jeonghan, don’t even think about edging her.”

Jeonghan smirks with mischief, letting his fingers do the work as he pulls his mouth away from your pussy. 

“Let me have my fun, Seungcheollie.” 

“If I did that neither you nor her would cum at all,” is your other boyfriend’s response. 

There’s silence as Jeonghan ponders whether he should obey or disobey. All the while, you’re mere inches away from your edge, hot with frustration because it’s so close; you’re so close. You just need a little bit more. It’s not too much to ask.

“Hannie, please…”

And he can’t find it in himself to deprive you any longer, so he crooks his fingers and works them as fast as he possibly can until you’re clenching, gushing, writhing all around his hand, wailing his name as you grab at his wrist but he still won’t stop. 

“Such a good boy, huh, Jeonghannie? Making her cum so good,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, sounding more breathless with each time he speaks. “Now we’re all happy.”

It’s only once your walls have stopped spasming around his fingers that Jeonghan finally slips them out of you and pops them straight into his mouth, licking them clean of every drop of your sugary arousal. He makes sure to gaze directly into the camera as his tongue laves and swirls over each one of his digits, knowing Seungcheol’s dick is twitching at the sight.

“I haven’t cum yet though. So I’m not happy yet,” he says, dragging a finger out of his mouth with a pop.

You sit up on your elbows with your cute, blissed out features, your eyes falling to his red-hard cock. 

“Come here and fuck me, then,” you say, impatient, like he didn’t just give you an orgasm. You paw at the hem of his shirt (also Seungcheol’s) and bite your lip as he pulls it over his head, letting your hands roam over his pale torso.

“Ride me?” he asks. How predictable. If it’s not Seungcheol taking him from behind then it’s you on top of him. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan does the work.

“Actually, I have a better idea. And this way Cheollie can see us both,” you say with a grin. 

With the phone on the front-facing camera, you prop it up against the headboard and roll onto your stomach, craning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Like this?” Jeonghan asks, straddling the backs of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you say, parting your legs a little, arching your back and raising your hips—presenting your soaked, messy hole to him. “Try not to get tired.”

He responds with a half-hearted smack to your ass and Cheol scoffs out a chuckle. Jeonghan slides his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, revelling in your tiny gasps every time it catches on your entrance. You’re prepared to whine and nag at your boyfriend to hurry up, but you suppose he’s feeling just as impatient as you are because he’s pushing in before you can even speak up. You look at Seungcheol, mouth dropping as you’re stuffed full with Jeonghan’s cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. His hands land on either side of your elbows so that he can hover over you, reel his hips back, and fuck himself into you like that. 

In this position, Jeonghan’s length brushes right against your gummy, sensitive spot with every stroke, making you keen for more even though he’s just started. 

“Harder, Hannie,” you sigh, pushing your ass up against his hips.

Instead of listening, he drops his head to the crook of your shoulder and kisses your skin. His breath tickles your ear when he whispers to you: “ah, what’s the rush, angel?”

You turn your head to catch his gaze, to drink in the sight of his face as he takes what he needs from you; his cheeks pink, his eyes tired and full of hunger. His lips, plump and enticing, evoke an unrivalled craving within you and he reads you well, brings his mouth to yours to give you as much satiation as he can muster. 

Seungcheol sits, silent, waiting. His patience is mere embers as he watches you two, his boyfriend and his girlfriend, tangled within one another. The wet slap of Jeonghan’s balls against the back of your thighs; the smacking of your lips, teeth, and tongues. He misses it. Fuck, he could go insane. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, when Jeonghan’s lips are no longer enough. “Want you to feel good too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, abandoning all semblance of the self-control he’d displayed up until now. It’s time, anyway, he thinks. He’s held off long enough. He puts his phone down and there’s shuffling as he strips himself of his sweat-soaked outfit from the show and settles upon the bed sheets once more. 

Saliva pools from the sides of your mouth when he angles his camera to show you his hand wrapped around his thick, erect dick and God, what you’d do to have it bruising the back of your throat until you’re gagging, letting him defile you all while he coos the sweetest of praises at you. 

“Daddy, I miss your cock so bad,” you admit in a weak whimper, shivering when Jeonghan angles himself deeper inside you.

“Yeah? Miss how I’d fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around me, Seungcheollie,” Jeonghan grits. “Greedy little thing.”

“I mean, it’s our fault one cock’s not enough to make her happy anymore,” says Seungcheol, sighing with relief as he thumbs at his leaking tip, squeezing his fist around it, reminiscent of the way that you and Jeonghan like to tease him.

“Like I said,” says Jeonghan as he pushes two of his fingers between your parted lips. “Spoiled.”

You moan around them, staring straight into the camera as you suck on them, staring at Seungcheol, who starts to pump his hand up and down his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and pretend it’s your hand, or Jeonghan’s hand, or one of your tight, warm holes, but he can’t take his eyes off of his phone screen no matter how hard he wants to, and, well, he doesn’t want to.

He jerks himself off to the same rhythm that Jeonghan’s hips grind into yours. Seungcheol likes things a little faster, usually, more rough, but it’s Jeonghan who’s inside you right now, not him, so he matches his boyfriend’s lazy but not too slow pace, one that’s just enough to give you a gradual stimulation. 

There’s something about the whole thing—being fucked on camera, being teased with Seungcheol’s cock when you can’t have it—it has you way more excited than you expected. Way more turned on than you expected. It shows in the floods of arousal that drip from your pussy and dampen yours and Jeonghan’s thighs, in the way you’re whinier and more sensitive than usual.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s own noises don’t help. In fact they spur you on, coax you closer to your edge, urge the heat in your belly to grow. When Seungcheol isn’t giving deep, rasped curses, he’s letting out pretty, breathy, borderline whimpering moans. Jeonghan’s sounds are as angelic as he is. His voice is a holy choir in your ear, heavenly and soft as he gasps with exertion and pleasure; as he does things to you that any God would frown upon.

Jeonghan, too, is more sensitive. With the plug constantly brushing at his prostate, he can’t help but screw his eyes shut and pretend it’s his big, buff boyfriend fucking his girth into him. It makes his thrusts grow raggedy, like he’s more heavy. His body weight presses into you as his arms start to ache just a little. He’s impossibly deep in your guts like this and it feels so fucking good that your brain starts to melt. 

Seungcheol recognises the look in your eye—absent, like you’re starting to tap out and letting yourself become consumed by bliss.

“Is she getting close, angel?” he questions, punctuating it with a moan, the slick glide of his hand up and down his cock like music in your ears.

Jeonghan hums affirmatively. “Pretty pussy’s choking me,” he says, his voice cracking, his composure with it. He tries to put more vigour in his thrusts, more determination. The sooner you cum, the sooner he cums. 

“Cum for Jeonghannie, baby,” Seungcheol urges softly. 

“Cum for me,” Jeonghan echoes. You don’t stand a chance.

The heat inside you coils up, then erupts. Jeonghan fucks you through your climax as you tremble beneath him, crying his name and clawing at the sheets below you. 

“There it is, my good girl,” Seungcheol coos, tightening his grip on his cock as he tugs at it harshly as though it could ever replicate the feeling of your warm walls clamping down on him as you cum. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jeonghan gasps, dropping his head to your shoulder, cock twitching. His next request is a broken, pathetic moan. “Ch-cheollie, cum with me.”

Jeonghan stills inside you, whimpering softly with every rope of cum that he spills inside you, letting you milk him of every last drop. At the same time, Seungcheol gives a resounding groan as he brings himself to his own release, cum splattering over his toned stomach. 

There’s a moment of silence, or, rather, nothing but a harmony of laboured breaths as the three of you come down from your orgasms. You give a noise of protest as Jeonghan suddenly rolls off of you, but his stamina is always drained after sex—especially when he’s doing the work. You shiver, both from the emptiness in your cunt and the cold air that hits you now that you no longer have your boyfriend’s body as a shield from it. 

“Seungcheollie’s gonna wanna see your cum leak out of me, you know,” you say. 

“You know me so well, baby,” is Seungcheol’s reply. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He makes no effort to move from his spot, opting to stretch his arm above his head and pat around until he finds the phone. He sits up next to you, points the camera between your legs as he grips one of your ass cheeks and spreads you apart. 

There’s a screenshot sound as white drools from your spent hole.

“Seungcheol!” you shriek. “You pervert.”

“Coups-ya, send that to me.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

tags — @svtiddiess @ylangelegy @simpxxstan @caibeauchicfashion

[chobunz]

Hey :) I’m just now getting into enhypen, so tell me, what do you think they’re like in bed?

haiiii srry i took so long to complete this but nonetheless i hope you still like it !! i only did hyung line so i hope that’s okie </3 kinda went a little overboard and started yapping tew much in this one lol oopsies..

pair: hyung line ㅊ f!reader | warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, oral (m + f. rec), fingering, praise/degradation, c.ckwarming, p in v, a bunch of other nasty stuff i don’t feel like typing out lmfao

heeseung

don’t even get me started with this man omfg.. like he’s a literal sex god…

whether it be from his fingers, his mouth, or his dick he’s gonna make sure that you cum first always

will rip orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing, not stopping until you’re a whining, convulsing mess under him, smirking with utmost pride from how good he’s made you feel

he lowkey strikes me as someone with a high sex drive so i feel like the minimum rounds you’d be going on the daily is AT LEAST 3 (though sometimes that still isn’t enough for him), he not giving that pussy a break i fear..

feel like he’d also be very into body worship, just completely and utterly devoted to pleasing every inch of you, taking his sweet time to savor all of you as if it’s his last time he’ll ever get to fuck you— your body is a work of art to him so he’ll treat it as such !

is obsessed with marking you, like there’s just something about leaving hickies in places where only you two can see privately <3

loves fucking you in missionary so he can see your pretty, fucked out face— but is also a huge fan of doggie ‘cause he likes to spank your ass from time to time hehe

the way you feel around his cock, clamping around him with every thrust, has him moaning so much that he has to bite down on your shoulder to control himself ;(

will run slow circles at your clit with his thumb, other hand holding himself up to look at the way your face changes with pleasure

gets so horny for you and the way you repeat everything he says back to him as if you’re nothing but a dumb fuckdoll for him to use.. >~<

when he’s chasing his own high, his moans just get louder and louder, harmonizing with yours until he’s painting your insides with strings of white, quickly pulling out to watch his cum dripping out of you, admiring the beautiful mess he’s made of you ♡︎

jay

he’s the type of partner that would be sooo sweet and attentive and patient with you, like it doesn’t matter to him at all if you’re experienced or not; if anything he’d prefer to teach you new things !! (corruption kink goes craaazy)

he seems like he’d be more into passionate lovemaking rather than just pure fucking, just always treating you like the princess you deserve to be treated <3

loves the build up that leads up before you two actually get into it, like the heavy breathing in between slow, passionate kisses, pulling you in closer to him as you’re slowly grinding on him and the pauses to catch each other’s breaths just makes his brain short circuit 😣

is always telling you how pretty you look like while taking his cock, he’ll never ever get tired of the view of you on your knees for him as you’re sucking him off or while he’s fucking you in all kinds of different positions

i feel like he’s more soft dom leaning but i could also see him being a little mean sometimes, he knows how much you like it when he degrades you and tells you how much of a slut you are (only for him tho ofc)

is defff the type who talks you through it ><

pays close attention to your facial expressions and brushes your hair out of your face while kissing your lips every now and then, just needs to fill you up completely while he kisses you so gently in contrast to the hard and deep strokes he’s giving you. one hand on the side of your face, soothing you sweetly with each touch and the other hand playing with your tits

the way your walls flutter around him makes him feel dizzy, especially how you’re moaning as he fucks you nice and slow, praising you for taking it all so well. his good girl :(

would also be a big fan of cockwarming

idk why but i can just imagine you two chilling like that— you getting used to the feel of him inside of you while making out for a while, jay bringing his thumb down to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles

when you pull back to look at where you both connect together, you moan and he grabs your chin softly for you to look at him, finding your furrowed brows and fucked out expression so stinking cute !!

jake

THE BIGGEST WHORE OMG

like he’s such a freak but only when it comes to you, he’ll literally do anything you asked him to

in the beginning stages he would probs be a little shy at first, he’d be so gentle and delicate with you, kissing you sweetly as he inches himself slowly into you..

it’s like this for the first few times you slept together, taking his sweet time until you’d be able to take him with ease, and then the flip would switch— he’ll get a little more rough with you, calling you a dirty girl for him and how much you’re enjoying it

also strikes me as someone with a high libido, like he’s horny twenty four sevennnn, he’ll wanna fuck you any and everywhere

he hates condoms, he would literally rather die than to use one. is always begging to hit it raw each and everytime you guys fuck, he pinky promises that he’ll pull out !! (which only works about 60% of the time ..)

always always always wants to eat you out, he just can’t help himself he’s addicted to the way you taste, its like a drug to him. he’ll just randomly ask you out of nowhere if you wanna sit on his face and you allow him to do whatever his horny brain likes, plus with a face that pretty how could you not wanna ride it ???

this leads me to thinking about pussydrunk jake who’s so immersed in eating you out and fixated on your own pleasure, he could do it out for hours with absolutely no complaints on his end. it turns him on so much knowing how good he’s making you feel, he almost cums in his pants just from this alone..

i will say this time and time again, jake is very into recording during sex, he likes to record himself eating you out or fucking you, making sure the camera is super close up to capture all the little details; he’s built up quite the collection in his camera roll so far

is always so vocal in the videos, maybe even more than you tbh. he’d be asking you over and over if you like that and how bad you want his cock, he literally never shuts up. he gets a bit more intense when the cameras rolling, loving that you’re into it just as much as he is; you’re his little pornstar <3

sunghoon

i may be biased as hell but honestly i think he’s the biggest freak out of them all, like he’s the type who treats you like royalty when in public but in private ?? yeah, that’s a completely different story..

he just really really likes to fuck. morning sex, middle of the night sex, shower sex, phone sex, you name it. he’s literally down for everythinggg

feel like he’d also be very into corruption, slowly turning you into a sex obsessed freak just like him !! (twinsies)

will not give you what you want unless you beg for it. he likes when you use your words and tell him exactly what you need, if you want it that desperately then you’re gonna have to work for it, and you most certainly will

finds it endearing how much you squirm around and get all whiny as he’s fingering you, humiliating you when you can’t take it ‘cause how will you be able to take him if you can’t even take this small thing ??

he’d pitifully look at you as you’re stuffed full of his fingers, squeezing your cheeks together hard when you pout because you’ll take what he’s giving you and be grateful for it. idk it’s just very sexy— the contrast between his attitude when he’s training you in comparison to the real thing >_<

is a sucker for those cute innocent doe eyes you give him as you’re taking him down your throat, the sounds you make while choking around his thick cock, makes him so incredibly hard. he wants to use your mouth like a toy— his toy, until you’re a crying mess and feeds you with his cum <33

fucks.you.soooo.dumb

he eases into you ever so slowly, already too far gone as he feels warm walls hugging his cock, it has him moaning and throwing his head back in relief, and once he’s fully settled in, he will not be holding back

lots and lots of dirty talk !! will say the filthiest things to you in your ear all while pounding you from behind, you can barely even comprehend all of what he’s saying to you because of your fucked out state, all you can do is moan and repeat his name over and over in response

also loves it when you ride him, the way you’re bouncing on his cock and giving him the view of a lifetime, he’s never felt so desperate to cum before, groaning loudly as he feels you clench and unclench around him, milking him of all his cum

the aftercare is always so lovely and soft with him. he’d be acting like he didn’t just fuck you into a whole other dimension lol

idk, all i know is that i need hoon so badly.. y’all it ain’t even funny anymore :\

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part II

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

September, 2026

[Excerpt from Kelly Clarkson interview with Y/N]

“We’re so excited to have y/n l/n with us today, I can’t get your latest song out of my head. It’s really such a great revival of the sultry pop ballads,” Kelly says joyously, and y/n can’t help but smile.

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you – I grew up watching you on American Idol, I can’t believe I’m even sitting across from you now.”

“Oh my god, stop! You’re gonna make me feel real old. Congratulations again on your Grammy for your sophomore album, All I Ever Needed. How did it feel going into your new project with that in the back of your mind?”

Y/N shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. “Hmm thank you. I – well, it was really different. The songs I wrote on there were coming from this feeling of bliss which was fading fast by the time the Grammy’s rolled around. I had to figure out what kind of artist I am if I’m not in love, or writing about happiness. It felt embarrassing. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I love sharing love. So it was hard for me, not gonna lie. But I’m happy that we got there in the end.”

“Wow, well I was able to listen to a few other songs on this record. I gotta say, I think it’s by far your best record yet. And did you write on all of the songs this time around again?”

Y/N nods her head, a small smile creeping back up on her face. “Yeah, I did. It turns out that writing about sad things can be really cathartic. But I really want people to know that it doesn’t mean this isn’t an album about love. At the end of the day, each of these songs are love letters to every single moment or person that made me feel something – for better or worse.”

early October, 2026

[Transcription of Capital FM segment with Y/N]

“We’ve got Y/N L/N with us here on Capital FM, and we’re about to play a quick round of Never Have I Ever! Are you ready?”

Y/N smiles, holding a paddle with “I Have” and “I Have Never”. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great! Now first one: Never have I ever… regifted a gift someone bought me.”

“Ooooh, not a gift someone bought me. But things I have been sent or given in goodie bags I’ve definitely regifted,” Y/N says, and raises the “I Have Never” paddle.  

“That’s alright! I think that’s not too bad. In fact, I’d volunteer to get something regifted from you,” the host laughs. “I usually donate it, but next time I’ll keep you in mind!”

“Perfect. Next one: Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs”

Y/N rolls her eyes and raises the “I Have” paddle. “Who hasn’t? If people say they haven’t, they’re just lying to you.”

“Who’s the most famous person who’s ever been in your DMs?” The host asks, and Y/N laughs. “Hmm Taylor Swift, maybe?”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you?” Y/N nods. “Yeah, I actually wrote ��how did it end?’ during a studio session with her.”

“Hmm that brings me to the next question – never have I ever written a song about an ex.”

Again, Y/N raises the “I Have” paddle, but then twists it so it’s halfway. “I think sometimes, no scratch that, I think almost always songs work way better when they’re open for interpretation. Isn’t it nice how everyone can take something else from it, that way?”

“Have you ever gotten back together with an ex?” The host asks, and Y/N makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Never! First rule in the book, or so my friends tell me all the time.”

"Even when the heart wants what it wants?"

"Even then."

mid October, 2026

[Excerpt from Call Her Daddy episode with Y/N]

“I think in many ways this album is the most naked I’ve ever felt in my emotions. But maybe that’s actually a good thing,” Y/N grins.

“They do say that sex sells,” Alex (Cooper) responds, and Y/N chuckles. “You’ll find hardly any of that on this album.”

“That’s not entirely true, there’s a song on there with some explicit lyrics,” she adds.

“Undrunk? Funnily enough, that one was probably one of the easier ones to write because it actually felt the furthest removed from myself? It’s inspired by, but not based on my own experiences. I’d say it’s my unlived life,” Y/N tries to explain.

“Talk to me about that. People are always quite eager to pinpoint all experiences of a celebrity. They know who you’ve dated, look for clues and dissect every lyric. How do you decide what to share and what not to share?”

“I think it’s sort of why I wanted to share ‘how did it end?’. Even the title track is me addressing the fact that everyone feels entitled to determine my love story. Including me, I think everyone tries to engineer or hack happiness at one point in their life. But it doesn’t work like that. And at the same time, it’s important for me to try and have some semblance of control over my own narrative, my feelings, my sense of self. And that also goes for the people whose presence in my life inspired me to write these songs. For better or worse, I’m grateful for it.”

Alex smirks. “Look, we can’t avoid the topic here. We all know that one of those people is Formula One driver Lando Norris. He’s also got a lot of very dedicated fans, who’ve been clamoring under every post of yours to leave him alone ever since you started dating. How did, and do you deal with that? It would have been easy to erase him from your social media, once the relationship ended, but you chose not to do that. Was that a conscious decision on your end, or something you ever discussed?”

Y/N takes a sip of water, and purses her lips. “I kinda feel like it’s just not really my place to expand on that – it’s between Lando and his fans. Like, it actually has nothing to do with me, I feel. If people are surprised I didn’t delete like three photos, it’s just because I like them – it’s not that deep. I can still cherish good moments, even when they’re in the past. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact that my ex was part of my life. But it’s not for me to comment on it beyond that. He’s well within his rights to want to delete them, and he doesn’t need to explain to anyone – not to me, not to his fans, anyone why he did it.”

“But it’s more than that. It does seem to imply he doesn’t like the association. And yet you referenced him in the video for “Jaded”. It’s caused some controversy,” she prods a little more.

Y/N snorts. “I was just paying homage to my co-writer, and her iconic 7 Things video. But it’s also partly me taking that ownership. A video is one of the few spaces where you can set the scene. If I wanted to expand on it, I’d have done it through art. People will be mad either way, and the props don’t add anything you can’t already infer from the lyrics.”

“Has he listened to it?”

“Have you?” Y/N counters. Alex smiles, then moves on.

end of October, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

Y/N L/N reveals tracklist to her third album as anticipation grows!

An obvious contender for the BRITs, is what the first reviews are saying about L/N's latest record “Jaded”. The LP will arrive in just two weeks, but up until today we did not know the exact runtime of the highly anticipated album. After posting to her Instagram, Y/N L/N revealed that the regular version of The Prophecy will count 12 tracks, with the deluxe edition raising that to a comfortable 16. Fans will surely be delighted to know that they can purchase various versions, all contributing to what is looking to be a very easy chart victory.

Talking to Jimmy Fallon earlier this week, L/N stated that she hopes her fans will listen to the album in its running order. “I know it’s really tempting to skip straight to your favourite, but I spent ages ruminating over how to tell my story in the best way – so I hope that translates.”

So far, all official singles of “The Prophecy” have charted both in the Official Top 20 as well as the Billboard Top 40, with The Heart Want What It Wants peaking on top, and Jaded just outside the top 10 at #11.

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥ I was soooooo happily surprised by the response to the previous part that I hurried up to post this :) Any comments, likes, reblogs, asks are super appreciated. ♥ Part III will follow shortly, it'll be four parts in total. for those interested, official tracklist songs

how did it end? - Taylor Swift / The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez / Jaded - Miley Cyrus / Lie to Girls - Sabrina Carpenter / Breakeven - The Script / The Prophecy - Taylor Swift / Stay - Gracie Abrams / Science + Faith - The Script / Moral of the Story ft. Niall Horan - Ashe / Undrunk - Fletcher / Vertigo - Griff / No More Sad Songs - Little Mix / Paper Hearts - Tori Kelly / Into You - Julia Michaels / Supercut - Lorde / Genesis - Dua Lipa

[celestiamour]

Hello can you please do hcs for su-bong x sweet fem reader? By sweet I mean nice to everyone and loved/liked by almost everyone so people are shocked he pulled 😭 (sorry if it’s a bit specific!) Thank you!

ft. choi su-bong x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ sweetheart! reader┊0.5k words

contains: established relationship, mentioned drug use

➤ author's note: another short one served but they are so cute omg

╰₊✧ most people in the games don’t like thanos, even his fans who survived the first games are learning why “never meet your heroes” is such a popular saying. he’s obnoxious, arrogant, temperamental, unpredictable in dangerous ways (especially when high) with how he dances with death, and rarely ever considers the well-being of others unless they are part of his team. they prefer to steer clear of them as nothing good could ever come from associating with a hooligan like him, and they tell you to do the same because he would only be a bad influence.

╰₊✧ when they find out a sweetheart like you is actually his girlfriend, their jaws go slack and their eyes go round in shock. not a fling to pass the time, not a situationship, his real girlfriend whom he’s very committed to. you, the darling girl everyone loves who gives massages to the elderly and always gives her milk away to anyone who needs it, dating some fuckass rapper who is a menace to society. 

╰₊✧ while your boyfriend frequently flexes you as his partner, truth be told, he’s not sure how he pulled you either but is too scared to ask just in case you realize you can do better than him. 

╰₊✧ he’s so smitten with you, by the way, it’s almost pathetic. his personality turns a complete 180 degrees and gives kang dae-ho a run for his money in the contest of golden retriever personality, a complete and utter simp (do people even still use that word anymore) for you— you say “jump,” he asks “how high.” he would probably quit using drugs if you asked him to and supported him through withdrawals, which is probably why he’s a bit more sneaky about it and you haven’t noticed yet.

╰₊✧ never says sorry first after arguments because of how stubborn he is, but he feels so guilty when you sputter a string of apologies through tears seconds after that he might start crying too because you’re just too sweet for him. 

╰₊✧ deviates from his usual style of songwriting to write more romantic stuff dedicated to you with lots of motifs about heavenly angels and saccharine sugar. he finds the final product a little embarrassing because of just how different it is to his raps, but you always love it and listen to it at least a hundred times before adding it to your favorites. also, he has so many playlists with you in mind, he probably has a separate account for them. he puts a little too much thought into curating the perfect background music for dates, for dancing around the house, or just to listen to with headphones when he’s thinking about you in any instance.

╰₊✧ matching icons on your social media with half a heart frame so when you put them together it’s a heart around the two of you because he’ll be damned if the entire world doesn’t know that you’re his and he’s yours.

[witchesverse]

run, little one, though the pack may follow

pairing: dark!agathario x werewolf!reader

summary: she killed your pack and chased you for six hours. you think you've been saved when you find a cabin, but unfortunately, you've walked right to her doorstep.

content: mentions of killing, wolf hierarchy, kidnapping, collars, muzzles, degradation (mutt, dog), hair/fur pulling, being chained to a wall, shock collars, mean!agathario, death threats, face slapping, noncon, somnophilia.

1.3k words

masterlist // the shelter masterlist

Six hours ago, your life was ruined. The witch, you have learnt her name to be Agatha, slaughtered your pack before driving you into the forbidden forest - a place no werewolf should enter. You thought your torment would end there, but she hasn’t stopped chasing you.

Your paws slap against the forest floor and your legs weaken with each step. You’re exhausted and need a break, but if you stopped running, she would catch you and kill you. The feeling of hope sparks in your chest; a cabin stands in the distance. You can pretend to act as an injured dog and seek shelter. You scratch against the front door and whine. A few seconds pass before the door is opened, revealing a woman with dark hair. Something about her aura makes you shiver. You give her your biggest puppy dog eyes and whimper, lifting your paw as if it is injured. 

The woman studies you for a moment before scoffing. “Agatha, come get your bitch.”

There is no time to react. Agatha grabs you by the scruff of your neck and pins you to the ground. You growl and twist in Agatha’s hold, desperately trying to escape her grasp. You feel something slip around your neck and click in place.

Did she put a fucking collar on you?

“Do not forget the muzzle. I am not dealing with teeth.” the woman hisses with disgust.

To wear a collar was embarrassing and degrading, but a muzzle was by far worse. You weren’t able to defend yourself with your teeth or assert dominance as easily. Only the lowest wolves in the pack wore a muzzle as punishment. There was no way you could allow yourself to wear a muzzle.

You manage to squirm out of Agatha’s grasp and pull yourself away from her. You stand defensively, teeth bared and eyes narrow. You can’t keep running, it has proven to be futile. 

“Brat,” Agatha pulls something out of her pocket and presses the button.

An unbearable pain pulses through your neck and you collapse to the ground. It feels like you’re continuously being punched really, really hard in the neck. The collar is electric. You try to stand but your muscles feel weak and like jelly. Agatha grins wickedly, taking three steps towards with the muzzle in her hand. The muzzle is black and has a few large holes for your nose and air to pass through. It has two straps on the side which she clips around the black of your head, and one strap going down the middle of your head which clips to the two straps. If you had the energy, you would scratch and snarl at her. To wear a muzzle was pathetic. It showed signs of ownership and submissiveness - she did not own you and you are not an Omega.

"Remember our deal, Agatha." the woman seems disinterested in you, almost like she doesn’t want to keep you.

"You'll be a good pet, won't you, darling?" Agatha purres.

You wish that you were human so you could snap a reply at her.

Your limp body is encased in purple magic, lifting you from the ground. Your body trails behind Agatha and the other witch as they walk inside. The cabin is small. Directly next to the door, there is a worn leather sofa and two empty bookcases. The kitchen is at the end of the cabin, and the wooden dining table is adjacent to it.

The unknown woman takes a seat on the sofa. Agatha continues down a hallway and turns into a room. This room is nearly empty. There is a queen-sized bed in the centre of the room and two cabinets on either side. On the right, there is a large dog bed and a chain connected to the wall. You are placed on the dog bed and Agatha attaches the chain to your ankle. As much as it is degrading, you can’t deny how comfortable it is. 

Agatha crouches, her hand threads through your fur, pulling it to reveal your throat to her. You bare your teeth. “I’ll give you a day or two of grace, but I wouldn’t try that attitude on Rio, sweetheart.”

Rio. That is the name of the other woman.

She releases her grip on your fur and pats the side of your muzzle before standing. “Get some rest,”

If your body didn’t feel like dead weight, you would have launched yourself at her and ripped her throat out. You don’t want to sleep. You don’t want to follow her orders. You want to be free with your pack; they deserve a proper burial. You stifle a cry at the thought of your pack. They are dead, rotting alone, and no doubt being torn apart by wild animals. You are the Alpha; the protector of the pack, yet you failed to protect. You blink back your tears. Crying won’t help, it will only blind you. If you want to take revenge, you need to focus.

You fight sleep for as long as you can, but there is no point. You are exhausted, your body aches, and the bed is so comfortable. You sigh, close your eyes, and let the world go dark.

When you wake, you notice two things. One, you’re human again. Two, your pussy and thighs are sticky. You drag two fingers through your slick; you’re drenched. You swallow, dragging yourself to your knees. It’s dark outside; moonlight is illuminating the room. There is a light breeze coming through the open window, making your naked form shiver. Wait, there’s an open window. An escape.

You stand eagerly and quickly move to the window, completely forgetting about the chain connected to your ankle. You fall to your knees and wince at the loud smack. You glance at the door, expecting one of the witches to walk through, but they don’t. 

“Fuckin’ chains.”

You tug at the chains, hoping they’ll disconnect from the wall. They don’t budge. You don’t even bother trying to take the chain off your ankle; it’s padlocked. You groan, flopping on the dog bed in defeat.

“Gave up already, mutt?”

You snap your head to the door. Rio leans against the door with a mocking smile. She’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. As she walks towards you, you back into the wall. She crouches, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear. Forgetting about the muzzle, you try to bite her. Her mocking smile drops and she pulls you by your collar.

“Don’t try that shit on me, mutt. Or I’ll make you wish that Agatha killed you with the rest of your pack.” she snarled.

“Fuck you.”

Her hand collides with your face. The slap is hard and brings tears to your eyes. She pushes you onto your back and keeps your thighs spread. One finger drags through your pussy, making her laugh.

“Agatha treated you well. Too bad, you weren’t awake for it.”

The look of confusion on your face makes her laugh harder.

“Dogs have never been that smart, have they?”

You hate being called a dog or a mutt, unfortunately, Rio seems to enjoy it. You hate everything about this. Never in your life have you been in such a vulnerable position or had someone have so much control over you.

“Why?” you croak as her hands glide over your stomach and tits.

“Why not?”

“Leave her alone, Rio.” 

With a smile, Rio shuffles back from you. She’s still close enough to touch you but you’re grateful she gave you space. It’s pathetic how terrified you know you look. You have pushed yourself against the wall, trying to create as much space from them as possible.

“You’re scaring her before it’s meant to get scary, my love.” Agatha tsks, kissing the top of Rio’s head.

“It’s not my fault that she’s a scaredy cat.”

You growl. A scaredy cat? Seriously?

“I’ll kill you both.” you promise. “I’ll make your death slow, painful, and horrible. Nobody gets to harm my pack and walk away from it.”

They laugh hard, especially Rio. You scowl. People are meant to cower under your threats, not laugh.

Agatha sighs. “We better get your training started then, shall we?"

\\

taglist (comment to be added) (if ur name is crossed off, i couldn't tag you)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress @absolute-memegarbage @teenybean @psychickryptonitebouquet @screamsin-gay @marvelwomenarehot0 @ctrlaltedits

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

women in male fields

fratboy!jaehyun x reader

summary: you’re fully aware you’re dating a reformed fuckboy/fratiest fratboy to exist but that doesn’t mean he can get away with acting like a douche without a taste of his own medicine… OR the 3 times sweetheart finds herself acting like a fuckboy and the 1 time Jaehyun calls her out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol, Americanized college described (l'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart, sweet girl) in order to avoid using y/n, Imk if I missed anything!

a/n: there was something completely magical in my Chili’s triple dipper because I sat down and pounded this out for 4 hours with minimal breaks! I’d had this idea for a while but figured I’d get it out before everyone forgot about the #womeninmalefields TikTok trend. Feedback is appreciated!

Timeline-wise let’s say this is about 4-6 months into Jae and Sweetheart being a couple

This story is a part of my fratboy!Jaehyun universe!

dividers from cafekitsune

You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Jung Jaehyun, one of the most fratboy fratboys to ever exist. You had been around for the parties, for the handful of nights where he overdid it and got sick, countless nights of standing by to watch him play beer pong, no dates on Sunday evenings because of frat meetings, and a couple philanthropic events. You were used to a lot of it by now. 

But your boyfriend had adapted himself so well to this role that you honestly kind of hated some of his behaviors. He had changed some habits, of course. He was no longer the fuckboy fratboy that slept around, no, he was committed to you and you alone. He made some effort into being romantic which took some work since his idea of romance was sending you a daily Snapchat for your streak with a red heart. Gross. Now, he got you flowers occasionally and your favorite snacks. His room used to be an absolute pigsty and now he at the very least he shoved his mess under the bed so you didn’t see.

Then there were some habits that didn’t change and you were tired of them. Beyond tired of them. You were tired of him passively listening, barely paying attention to you, being kind of an asshole, and just being a gross guy. So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he could do all these things and you could still like him, why wouldn't he still like you?

It had started when you texted Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon and he didn’t respond until Saturday afternoon. It had been nothing urgent, but you were still annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, it was a horrible habit of his. He started a conversation or read a text you sent and just never responded. You knew now, based on experience and the other guys telling you, that Jaehyun sucked at texting. He would still post on Instagram or Snapchat, posting various athletes like they were his friends and promoting frat activities like normal. It was almost like he forgot that the primary function of a phone was to communicate. Good thing he was pretty!

It didn’t make it any less annoying that your boyfriend didn't care to change this habit for you though, so when he finally texted you back, you decided to give him the same treatment. Saturday came to an end and you didn’t text back. Sunday was the same and so was Monday. He texted you countless times, so many questions, random updates on his day, and asking you if you were ok or if he should send help to your dorm. So when you knocked on the door Tuesday afternoon scrolling on your phone when Jaehyun opened the door. It was pretty safe to say he was pretty confused.

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Jaehyun asked while he led the two of you upstairs.

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes not leaving the screen of your phone, “oh yeah, my phone broke. My bad.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue, ready to tell you that he had seen you posting on your stories, your phone didn’t look new, and he had heard you on FaceTime with Haechan just yesterday. That you were literally scrolling through Instagram when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his arms, and pulled up the most recent episode of one of your shows. 

He couldn’t really complain if you were here with him now, right? You were in his bed, in his arms, laying on his chest. Everything was fine. A few days of no contact was normal and you both had a good enough relationship where it shouldn’t bother him, right? But it did…

The next time Jaehyun pissed you off was just a week later. He had proven to be a little extra clingy after his punishment of silence and that was good enough for you. It had been enough to hold you off with some of his, less than perfect behavior, until the next time he messed up. Sure, enough it was just 7 days later when he acted stupid again. And it was time for him to learn again. Sometimes he just had to learn to not do something by doing it and learning the consequences. Like a child… or a pet.

Jaehyun had had a stressful week. You knew that, he had told you about it the last time you saw him just yesterday, so you did feel kinda bad for deciding to pull this out of your sleeve now. How was he going to learn if you never tried to fix it though?

Jaehyun was pacing around his room, running a hand down his face and staring at the email that basically told him nothing from their partner sorority. He was social chair, so he was in charge of planning mixers. That’s exactly what he was trying to do! But the Kappa social chair was either knowingly being a pain in the ass or just naturally was a pain in the ass. How was it useful for Jaehyun to know when a handful of sisters all had an astronomy class?! Why did that matter when he was asking her to choose from a handful of dates he’d already chosen?!

Not only was this sorority social chair being annoying, Taeyong had been on his ass to plan some kind of sponsored philanthropic event, but everyone Nu Chi had worked with previously was being so difficult! No one was returning a single one of his emails, he spent his afternoons on hold or making calls, and just getting in contact with new companies and vendors just took so much effort. He currently had one sponsor, which was fine, whatever. But nothing Nu Chi Theta did while Jaehyun was social chair was ever just fine. Fine was acceptable for Alpha Sig’s but not for Nu Chi’s. He would need at least two more sponsors to reach the level of finery he was used to working with.

So that’s what Jaehyun was texting you about, his fingers tapping across the small screen of his phone while he put all his ranting and raving into words and sent off the text with a sigh of relief. You would talk him down, get him through his stress, and give him some advice for his problems. Then he’d feel like a new man, ready to tackle his problems with a clear head just like you always did for him. Just the thought of your advice had him smiling down at his phone while he added ‘sorry, about that. had to vent. how was your day sweets?’ and sent it your way.

On your end, you read through the long text ready to reply and give him some advice and offer your own help, but then you remembered… You remembered how just a few days ago you were venting to him about a small argument you and Ari, your roommate, had gotten into, and he showed no signs of actually listening. You went to him for a reason! He had at least 10 roommates, he never had complaints about any of them, so it wasn’t like you were talking just to talk! You wanted your boyfriend to give you some advice like you always gave him, but all you got was a “damn... Wanna order me some wings?” You had to physically keep jaw from dropping. God, he could be such a fucking guy sometimes! It was like talking to a fucking wall! Albeit a very good looking, handsome wall, but a wall nonetheless.

It was time for him to get yet another taste of his own medicine. Instead of taking the time to offer your advice or offer your help, you smirked, staring at your screen as you typed out, ‘that sucks’. Next text, ‘My day was chill, kinda hungry … send me door dash?’

On his end, Jaehyun stared at the screen with blatant confusion, watching as the minutes ticked by while he waited for some long paragraph with solutions and encouragement to be sent his way. After five minutes nothing came. The same after 10. No change after 20 and then he sets his phone aside feeling grumpy and pissy. Why wasn’t his girlfriend helping him? Did you even read his message?

And he couldn’t exactly call you out on it because it wasn’t an issue between the both of you. They were problems he had before you guys were together sure, but he liked having you to lean on now. He sighed tiredly, resting his chin atop his folded arms with a pout while staring at his dark screen and willing you to text him back again so all his issues would be just one step closer to being fixed.

His heart skipped a beat when the screen lit up and he saw the familiar combination of emojis used for your contact. He reached for his phone eagerly, feeling his heart soar at the anticipated text where you would help him solve his issues. But his face fell into a frown and he groaned out loudly at the words on his screen: ‘is my food on its way yet?’

The last reciprocation of his fuckboy energy was probably the worst. You honestly don’t know how you let Jaehyun get away with it practically unscathed, but karma was coming around now and she wasn’t merciful. It was your pièce de résistance, the cherry on top of your fuckboy sundae, your magnum opus, your masterpiece. 

To give Jaehyun some credit, it had been a while since he had dated a woman for a long period of time, or really, dated any woman at all. Maybe he had forgotten some very basic decorum and manners as far as ways to act and things to say or not say. Just yesterday you had been complaining about your professor being very vague in the instructions for your assignment, and even more vague when you emailed him to ask for clarity. “Like the instructions make it sound so simple, but it can’t be that simple if this project accounts for 30% of our grade! Like hello, is it hard to reply to an email with words that actually fucking mean something?” You groaned, running your fingers through your hair while you texted your project group chat what your professor had replied.

Jaehyun chuckled, running a calming hand down your back, focusing his relaxing touch on your lower back as his fingers kneaded at your muscles, “chill out sweetheart, I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

You sent him an unamused look from the corner of your eye, “chill out? Jae, I just said this project accounts for a third of my grade. I can’t be chill about this.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, “are you… you know?”

Your fingers froze over your keyboard, waiting for his next words, giving him a chance to backtrack. He stayed silent and waited patiently. You exhaled, speaking in a voice that was all too eerily calm, “Am I what, Jaehyun?”

“Are you on your period? You just seem extra worked up about something kind of pointless.” He replied casually, his fingers continuing to work at your lower back. The exact area you had once confessed hurt you so bad you could barely stand in the first couple days of your period. This- somewhat thoughtful- little shit!

You smacked his hands away while you closed your laptop and gathered your things in a hurry, mumbling, “you’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Jaehyun stared at you in shock, an asshole? He was being an asshole for caring about his girlfriend’s well-being? “Sweetheart, it’s just that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is,” he tried to explain.

You held a hand up, silencing him, ”every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself into a deeper hole. No, I’m not on my period. Yes, it is a big deal and yes, I’m actually leaving. Good night and goodbye.”

This very conversation had been playing on repeat in your mind while Jaehyun vented to you about Johnny being up his ass about new recruits being low as he paced around his room. “I mean, it shouldn’t be solely on my shoulders if recruits are low. There are plenty of brothers who don’t have as many responsibilities as I do. Like, I barely figured out the whole sponsored mess with Taeyong and now Johnny decided to stick his foot up my ass too. Can I get a fucking break or something?!” He ranted passionately.

You stared at him blankly from your seated position on his bed, forcing your smirk to stay hidden. “Is it… you know?” You began to ask.

“Is it stressful? Hell yeah it is, I mean shouldn't we have any and all brothers taking turns trying to recruit. I mean that’s why I take my time to throw mixers, parties, and sponsored events that kick ass so that people want to join,” Jaehyun replied with a tired sigh.

“No,” you laughed softly, “is it like your time of the month? You seem to be making a big deal out of nothing?”

When Jaehyun turned to you with his eyes wide in astonishment, he expected to see you laughing it off playfully. He expected for you to confess that you were just kidding and kiss him sweetly. But you cocked your head to the side and raised a brow as if to ask, ‘what’s the problem?’

After that, Jaehyun was quick to rise to his feet, pinning you with a heated stare. “What the hell has been up with you? You've been acting… grimy for like the last month.”

You laughed in astonishment, “I’ve been acting grimy? Huh, then imagine how I feel on a regular basis!”

“You?! Sweets, you’ve been acting like a douche! Like when you didn’t respond to me for days even though you were posting like normal and you lied about your phone being broken! Like, hello! You were on Instagram right in front of my face with the same crack on your screen since I’ve known you!”

You raised a brow, holding back an amused smirk, “that’s all? I don’t reply for a couple days and now I’m a douche? Babe, you’re being like really emotional right now, calm down.”

“And that too!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “why are you asking me if it’s my time of the month when I’m talking about something that’s bothering me? I want you to support me. You did the same thing when I texted you looking for advice when I was handling the whole mixers and sponsors thing.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “well, I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

Jaehyun raised his brows and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what the hell he was hearing. Was he in some kind of alternate universe? Had aliens come down and planted worms in your brain? What happened to his sweet girlfriend?! “Well, an apology would be really nice,” he replies while cocking his head at you.

“And have you ever apologized to me for any of that same behavior?” You ask in a calm voice.

“Wha- me apologize?! This isn’t about me! It’s about you!”

“Oh, so it’s only a problem when I act like this and not you? Got it.”

“When?! When have I acted like you?” Jaehyun asks in exasperation, eyes wide with shocked confusion.

“Hmmm. Let me think!” You exclaim before dramatically placing the tip of your finger on your chin, “just like everyday we’ve been together, you dummy!”

“Give me examples. I can’t believe this.”

“Alright, how about how I’ve had to train you like some kind of pet to learn some very basic texting etiquette? I let you get away with being a shitty texter for months and the one time I do it, you go crazy. I got used to not getting a response from you after days on end and I act like you did one time and you almost call campus security to my dorm to see if I’m alive,” you state, counting out a single finger. 

With the next finger, “I come to you for advice regarding my single roommate considering you have like a hundred of them, and what do you do? You say, damn, buy me wings? Who the fuck does that?! So it didn’t feel very good when I did it to you, huh? Did you like looking for advice only to be hit with some bullshit response and then asked for food? Which I never got by the way!”

Third finger, “And just now. Oh no, did you not like being told your issue meant nothing? Awww, mmmm, are you sad?” You pull your face into a very sarcastic sad face, “now imagine how I feel when you asked me if I was on my fucking period?! Like, have you never been around someone with a vagina? Even Mark and Haechan who barely pull know better than to ask some shit like that! And these are just three of your douchebag behaviors! Shall I continue, Mr. so called I’m-perfect-and-can-never-make-mistakes-because-that-would-be-impossible!”

Jaehyun stood speechless. Was he really that bad? Well, clearly he was. He had to admit he didn’t think he was this bad. He had been really good about adapting to his new role as a boyfriend and thought everything else that came his way was just going to be easy to handle. Apparently, he hadn’t handled it all the right way.

“I didn’t realize I was this bad, I’m sorry. Wow,” Jaehyun sighed, sitting on the bed with his folded over his mouth, “sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”

But that was another way Jaehyun had adapted. He didn’t start arguments while being hard headed, he listened when the issue was serious, he accepted wrong doing, and made changes. 

You crawled across his bed, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been petty. I should have told you these things bothered me in the moment instead of using them against you… but it was kinda fun.”

Jaehyun rested his head atop yours and chuckled softly, “I think I’m really glad you’re not one of the frat guys because we’d always have girls in here yelling about you gaslighting them. How did you handle me doing this for so long?”

“It helps that you listen when it matters. You’re sweet, you can be romantic, you care about me, you make an effort for me, I can tell you’re trying to be better for me even if it doesn’t all come easily for me,” you explain in a calm voice, “and you’re hot as hell, the abs don’t stop, and you keep that body nice and tight for mama, don't you baby boy?”

Your cackle rings out across his room while he jumps away from you with flushed cheeks. “Don’t… don’t talk like that. It’s totally freaking me out!”

“Come on, babe,” you tease while deepening your voice playfully, “bring me that ass.” 

You manage to grab him while he tries, and fails, to jump away. You playfully knead his (lack of) ass while grinning up at him. You pucker your lips, to which Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes before kissing you sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re a girl because you would be an absolute terror as a guy,” he states while shaking his head and cupping your cheeks.

“I think I should rush, baby,” you respond playfully, “you could be my big, dude! Come on, bro!”

“Enough of this!” Jaehyun jokingly hisses, “I want my sweet girl back.”

“Fine,” you drawl out with pout, “let this be your lesson though, Jae. When you go low, I can go lower. And I will go lower.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned. I’ll be better at texting, I’ll be an active listener, I’ll give you advice when you need it, and I’ll never ask you if you’re on your period again,” Jaehyun nods.

“See, you’re such a great learner. Let’s go get you a treat, baby,” you smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I don’t know how I feel about you talking to me like I’m a dog…”

You smile at him, “you like it.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “do I?”

You hum, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer, “yup, you have a praise kink.”

Well, if you say so…

[darlinluxx]

𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

request from : @erika-mon2-blog “Hi sweetie! I saw that you were accepting requests for Saebyeok, and I would love to ask you for one. I recently came across your profile and I'm in love with it! I'd love something along the lines of a sweet and clingy *reader* and a cold and unaffected Saebyeok; I know it's not a specific request, but I just want to see Saebyeok fighting against his cold attitude to please his favorite person. 😭🩷”

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : you and saebyeok are complete opposites. i guess it’s true what they say : opposites attract

a/n : thank u sm <33 i literally just finished this fic as you sent me this lmao perfect timing !!

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he chipped paint of your apartment wall is the same shade as the chipped paint of the subway station Saebyeok seems to gravitate towards. except here, in your little corner of Seoul, there’s a soft blanket draped over the worn couch, the aroma of jasmine tea lingering in the air, and the sunlight spills in, warm and inviting. the subway station? it’s cold, concrete, and constantly echoing with the anxieties of the city.

you hum softly, arranging the hydrangeas in a vase until they’re just so — a perfect, delicate dance of blue and purple. Saebyeok, on the other hand, isn’t about delicate dances. she’s more cold and quiet storms. and yet, somehow, you’ve found yourselves woven together.

you hear her before you see her. the jingle of the keys she pulls from her pocket, a small, almost involuntary noise that always makes your heart flutter. she’s in the doorway, silhouette framed against the hallway light, a stark contrast to the soft glow of your living room.

“hey.” she says, her voice low and a little rough, like gravel being shifted beneath the tide. she doesn’t look at you directly, her gaze fixed on the floor, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her dark green jacket. it’s a gesture you’ve come to know well: the guarded posture of someone who’s used to fending for themselves.

“hi,” you say, your smile immediate and genuine. you leave the hydrangeas, walking over to her and pulling her in for a hug. your hands brush against the cold fabric of her jacket, a reminder of the world she moves through — a world so different from the one you curate within these four walls.

she stiffens for a moment, unused to the physical expression of affection, before relaxing, her breath ghosting against your neck. it’s a small victory, something you treasure.

“anything good happen today?” you ask, your voice light even though you suspect the answer might be in the negative. you know about the struggles; the constant search for her family, the need to survive. but you believe in offering her a soft place to land.

Saebyeok shrugs, a slight lift of her shoulders. “the same.” she says, which could mean anything, or nothing at all. you don’t press her. you know she’ll tell you when she’s ready, in her own time, in her own way.

instead, you lead her to the couch, tucking a soft blanket around her shoulders. you bring her the tea, the steam swirling around your face, a faint wisp of comfort in the stillness of the room.

“how was your day?” she asks, her eyes finally lifting to meet yours. you told her about your day. Saebyeok listens, her gaze intense as if she’s trying to decipher a complex puzzle. you suspect it is that for her; all the vibrant color, the soft petals, the open displays of merriment — it’s a foreign landscape.

she doesn’t comment much, but you can feel her presence, hear the subtle shift in her body as she adjusts on the couch, moving closer to you. in her quiet way, she’s here, present, with you.

later, as you’re both curled up on the couch, a book of poetry open in your lap, you lean against Saebyeok, your head resting on her shoulder. she runs her fingers through your hair, a habit she’s developed, a small gesture of intimacy.

you, with your bright colors and gentle nature, and Saebyeok, with her shadows and guarded heart, are an unlikely pair. but here, in this small apartment surrounded by soft light and the scent of jasmine, you understand why this works. you are her anchor, the bright spot in her storm. and she, well, she is the grounding force that keeps you from floating too far away, reminding you that there’s a strength in silence, in resilience, in surviving even the harshest of storms. and in this quiet intimacy, you know, with absolute certainty, that this love, two different worlds colliding, is exactly what you both need.

[shanastoryteller]

They destroy a hundred seals in thirty days, which feels like good progress until Sam realizes even if they can keep up this pace, it’s going to take them nearly two years. “There has to be a faster way to do this.”

“It took three hundred thousand years to set the apocalypse in motion,” Castiel says dryly. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It took a year from first seal to last, don’t exaggerate,” he says, pacing the length of the motel room. Cas may not need things like food and sleep, but Sam is still human at the end of the day.

He’s refusing to touch the virtue bit. No one’s keeping track of those and they both know it.

Cas gives him a bitchy look that Sam tells himself he’s not growing fond of. “Yes. Sixty six seals took a year to open. We’ve destroyed nearly twice that in a month. You are not being reasonable about this.”

Maybe not, but they don’t have time to be. Can’t Cas feel it? Like something’s bearing down on them, hot breath on the back of their necks. If there’s one constant in Sam’s life, it’s that he never gets enough time. He doesn’t see why this should be any different. “What if we killed Lilith? She’s the last one, right? As long as the first seal hasn’t been opened, killing her destroys the seal. If the last one can’t be opened, Lucifer can’t be set free. Right?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Sam kind of hates how quickly he’s picked that up this time around, but he’s only realizing now that it’s a gesture Cas learned from him, not Dean, and the first go around they hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together in the beginning. “Likely correct. But even if we could find her, I’m unsure of your capabilities.”

“Fuck you too,” he says without heat. “I killed Azazel. I killed her before. I can do it again.”

“She wanted to be killed, last time,” Cas says. “She knew her death would grant Lucifer’s freedom and she did not fight you with all her strength. Killing Azazel is not killing Lilith. They are different beasts.”

“Wait,” he says, “are you telling me that Lilith is stronger than Azazel?”

Having killed them both, that’s really not what he would have guessed. Which means that Cas is probably right. Damn.

“What is stronger, blood or bone?” he asks. “She is Lucifer’s firstborn. There is power there.”

Great. “I’m more powerful this time,” he points out. Azazel’s blood – Lucifer’s blood – is still buzzing under his skin, not quite as hot and pounding as it was at first swallow, but not fading and sputtering out like Ruby’s blood always had. Something in between, maybe, except those first few drops of blood as a baby hadn’t had any immediate affects either. It’s probably a good thing he won’t live another twenty two years. Who knows what Lucifer’s blood will have done to him by then.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I just don’t know if you’re powerful enough.”

And if he’s not, Lilith won’t even kill him. He needs to be alive for Lucifer to wear, after all. No, whatever she does to him will be much worse.

Sam.

He turns, even though he knows they’re alone. But his name had been so clear.

Sam, please!

He looks around uneasily. “Do you hear that?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Seriously?” he demands.

Sam, please, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything, please help me. Help her. Sam –

He moves, not entirely sure what he’s doing, shifting from one place to the other, not entirely sure where he’s going until he arrives.

He’s standing in an empty apartment building, a ghost howling in front of him that looks sort of familiar. What the hell?

“Sam!”

Taking his eyes off the ghost is probably stupid, but he looks behind him anyway and finds Ellen on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Jo is clutched in her arms, skin pale and eyes open and unseeing, bits of plaster in her hair and a gaping hole in the wall behind them.

“Holmes?” he asked incredulously, turning back to the ghost who’s getting steadily closer. Last time they trapped him in the basement and cemented him inside. Last time Sam hadn’t spent years researching how to banish the worst sorts of evil.

The incantation rolls off his tongue easily, half Latin and half something older than that, and Holmes screams as he burns up in whisps of smoke.

“Sam, please,” Ellen begs. “Please. You have to help her.”

How does Ellen even know him? They’ve never met before. Not here. He kneels across from her, heart clenching at Jo’s body. He’s supposed to be making things better, leaving and destroying the seals is supposed to fix things. Except he guesses he and Dean weren’t here to find Jo this time and Ellen got there too late. “She’s dead, Ellen.”

“So?” she asks fiercely. “Jim was dead. Caleb, that girl, Meg. They were all dead. You brought them back.”

He stares. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” she repeats. “She’s all I have left. Please, Sam. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring her back.”

Sam knows that desperation. He’s felt that desperation, those miserable four months when hell tore his brother apart.

But he doesn’t have the same overfull, burning power he had with the taste of Azazel’s blood in the back of his throat.

Ellen, proud, tough Ellen, has tears down her face and begging him.

She lost her husband because of his father. He can try and save her daughter.

He reaches out, gripping the back of Ellen’s neck, and pulls her towards him. She opens his mouth for him, kissing him back without hesitation. He bites her tongue, blood hot and salty, and she doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t pause, just holds Jo between them and lets Sam take.

When he pulls back, his mouth is full of blood. He leans down, pressing his lips to Jo’s, letting her mother’s blood slide between her lips and presses his hand against her chest, trying to quicken something in her that will bring her home.

She gasps under him and he pulls back. Her eyes dart around, cheeks flushed, and stutters, “What – who–”

Ellen lets out a sob and clutches Jo to her, letting out a choked litany of scolding that has Jo patting her back and making soothing noises that Sam doubts Ellen hears at all.

He sits back on his ass, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering if anyone will care if he just lays down and takes a nap. Resurrection is exhausting.

“How?” Ellen asks, looking at him with red eyes and a puffy face and so much gratitude he can barely stand it. “There’s nothing special about my blood.”

“There’s power in sacrifice,” he says, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “Not a lot. Not enough. But,” he shrugs. He’s spent a lifetime making something out of not enough.

“What did I sacrifice?” she asks. It’s curiosity, nothing more. He can tell that she doesn’t care about the answer, that it really good be anything ant it would still be a bargain well made as far as she’s concerned.

This is how apocalypses are started.

“Nothing I’m going to collect on,” he says tiredly. “But it’s not a trick that works more than once. So be careful, okay?”

That last bit he directs to Jo, who’s just staring at him with huge eyes. “You’re Sam?”

“Yeah,” he says. “How do you know who I am?”

Jo and Ellen share a look, then she says carefully, “I met your brother.”

“How is he?” he asks, almost before she’s finished speaking. “Is he – I mean,” he cuts himself off, grimacing. Sam made out with their possessed father, killed the demon, and left. It’s a real toss up about what messed him up the most. “You shouldn’t hunt on your own,” he says, switching tracks. “You need a partner, one who can show you the ropes if you’re going to keep this up. See if you can talk Dean into it. I think you two will get along.”

Jo swallows. “Uh, okay. You’re not what I expected.”

What had she expected? He’s sure the rumors about him are nothing good, if not outright setting a bounty on his head. Ellen might have been desperate enough to seek him out with Jo dead, but that doesn’t mean anything. He and Dean both ran to demons when they lost the other.

There are footsteps down the hall and he tries to muster a smile for them before he’s leaving, returning to the motel room he’d been in with Cas.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Getting back here had taken the last bit of energy he had. He flips Cas off and collapses face first into the bed, barely managing to kick of his shoes before he falls asleep.

Dean would have taken them off for him, but Dean isn’t here.

~

When he wakes up twelve hours later, it’s to Cas standing above him and staring.

He groans, rolling over and away from that piercing blue gaze. “Don’t do that.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Sam tells him. It doesn’t take long, but his voice is still strained by the end of it.

“You heard her prayers?” Cas asks.

“No,” he says, then frowns. “I don’t know. I guess. Can I do that?”

Cas is learning human expressions one by one. Judgement had come quickly and easily.

Whatever. Apparently he can do that now.

“You said Azazel was a prince of hell,” Sam says. “Does that mean there are more of them?”

“Three,” he says warily. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Think they’d be willing to part with some blood in exchange for their lives?”

Sam’s not going to survive this. He knew that from beginning. It doesn’t really matter he has to do to himself to finish it.

There’s power in sacrifice.

“This is a terrible idea,” Cas says, which isn’t a no.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[omkookie]

Getting gangbanged by the lesser angels.

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, Gangbang, filth, 5 on 1, MC gets her pussy stuffed.

Normal thoughts be damned, I'm thinking about MC being kidnapped by ‘Lesser angels’. Everyone in Hell is looking glum and depressed, thinking that she's being tortured to death in heaven. MEANWHILE She's getting her brains fucked out of her skull and living out her biggest slut fantasies. 

MC’s drooling like a dog, her mouth stuffed with Armisael’s pretty cock. Sucking on it, spit drips down her chin every time he thrusts it in deeper and makes her gag. The blonde angel strokes her pretty hair running his fingers through it, before his hands return to her cheeks to hold them. He uses her mouth to get himself off, whispering some little curses along with words of encouragement for her, to let her know what a dirty little human she is.

Camael is the one who snatched her away and brought her here. He’s occupying himself by fucking her from the back, Holding her hips with firm hands. His nails dig lightly into her skin as he pulls out, teasingly pushing back into her at a slow pace. Her juices drip down her thighs, combined with his cum which slowly seeps out of her stuffed pussy. ‘You’re so beautiful, Daughter of Solomon’ He hums out in-between breaths, 

Rashiel is fucking his big girthy cock between her tits. He holds his hand over his cock while he thrusts it against her chest, and holy shit was he a girth master. If MC didn’t already have her mouth full of cock she would be gawking at him. He didn't have one of the longest, but it was still one of the widest cocks she's ever seen. Did God make all angels have huge cocks on purpose? Probably. MC’s eyes roll back just by the feeling of Rashiel rubbing it between her tits, Her brain automatically fantasizing about sliding his big cock into her pussy. 

Snapped out of her slutty thoughts by Zeruel, MC’s pupils dilate as she catches a glimpse of him. He is huge and when I tell you he's huge, I mean he’s the second largest angel in heaven. His shirt clings tightly to his muscular chest. It doesn’t take long before MC feels something big and hard being placed into her hand. 

The angels continue playing with her, Touching her nipples, spanking her, pulling her hair back, stuffing her pussy over and over again. All of them are finishing either inside of her or on her.

Luckily for MC, Zeruel finishes on her face rather than in her pussy despite having her jerk him off with her cute little hand. He gives her face a generous dose of the angel cum she's been fantasizing about this whole time. 

Michelleel is more like a stuck-up prude at first, but eventually he joins in and has MC jerk him off with her other hand. Morals be damned, who’s going to punish him for sinning aside from Gabriel? He pushes his cock into MC’s mouth once Armisael is done using her throat, and MC recognizes him as the green haired angel Leraye told her about once.

All of them have been pussy deprived for centuries, and now they're all curious about sex. They make MC cum as many times as possible, overstimulating her entire body once they find out what a clitoris is and what feels good for her. 

The sloppy aftercare later is very cute tho <3

[signanothername]

I do agree with it being a genuine issue that people can't fathom relationships that aren't romantic or sexual but as equally devoted to each as those ones.

It's an issue in fandom and also in real life.

I'm very very close with my best friend and I have the same level of devotion towards them as one would a romantic partner. I'd buy a house with them or raise a kid, stuff like that. But we aren't romantically/sexually involved with each other and don't ever want to be.

Also because we are physically affectionate with each other people are always asking if we are having sex or if we are dating or when are we going to date.

It's aggravating because somehow our commitment for each other is viewed as lesser because we aren't doing all that.

I do think it's how we are socialized as we are growing up that makes this an issue.

(Excuse me while I stand on my soap box about platonic physical affection) People like to forget that we are a species that not only craves physical affection but we also Need it to some degree to be healthy, like human babies will straight up perish if they aren't held enough. We don't exactly grow out of that.

(This is, of course, excluding people who don't want to be touched and such. Works the same way as a healthy food, tho it's good for you not everyone is gonna like that food or eat it.)

OH ABSOLUTELY

Unfortunately, the social norm is that romance/sex is superior by default (which is absolute bullshit), all sorts of love are of the same importance, whether romantic or platonic

I think it also comes with the lack of understanding that we have different social needs, for example, I personally can’t even understand the concept of crushes at all, (like wait, people getting romantic feelings for someone they don’t know is real?????? Love at first sight isn’t a bullshit movie thing and people actually fall in love at first sight?????)

My understanding doesn’t matter as much as my behavior does, just because I don’t understand how someone can fall in love with another person who they don’t know doesn’t mean I’ll go and tell someone with a crush that their love is invalid just because I don’t understand it personally

People on the other hand, are very comfortable telling people who aren’t romantically involved to “get on with it” or to ask invasive questions such as “when are you going to date” cause they lack the understanding that people can be just as devoted platonically as people who are devoted romantically

The difference was never the devotion, it’s just the type of love you share, and how you share it

As for physical affection, you’re absolutely right, we are social species by default but with different social needs, some people need physical affection to function, others don’t, some only need it at certain times in certain circumstances and so on

These differences between us is what makes us human, but alas, the majority think that their norm must be the norm for everyone else

Anyway, it’s so sweet to know you have your best friend, hope you guys live long happy lives, take care of yourselves, your love is just as valid and true <333333

[imujings]

[b.sk] boo seungkwan’s guide to love

synopsis | an easy, four-step guide on how to win anyone’s heart—written by yours truly, boo seungkwan! (or, the three times seungkwan is determined to set up the perfect way to confess, and the one time he realizes all he has to do is be himself.)

♯ pairing(s) | bestfriend!boo seungkwan x gn!reader, non-idol!svt & gn!reader ♯ genre(s), wc | best friends to lovers & fluff, 5.4k ♯ warnings | cursing, friendly banter (someone save dino), two stupid silly sexual innuendos, some kissing, a few silly misunderstandings (sorry!!! They're Idiots <3), whisper of the heart spoilers!!, reader chokes on water

jay’s musings | HAPPY BIRTHDAY RANIA-BOO @wheeboo !! this one is ALLL for u!!!! and i mean it. ur genuinely SUCH a sweet and loving person, getting to know u has been such an honor. i love our daily convos and interactions, and am just so so so glad to have met u :) always remember that u! are! made! of! stardust! i hope u enjoy this, mwah <3

Boo Seungkwan needs to get a fucking grip.

He’s sprawled across his living room couch, eyes tracking a ladybug as it crawls across his ceiling. How the little creature somehow managed to be birthed in a winter as cold as this one, he will never know, but Seungkwan prays to whatever stars above that this is a sign of luck for the impending doom laying ahead of him.

Chan, Seungkwan’s roommate, ambles into the room with a bag of chips. He sits down on the chair perpendicular to the forlorn boy and interrupts his overthinking session. “Sulking isn’t going to make the perfect birthday gift for them suddenly appear, you know.”

Seungkwan blows a raspberry into the air. Curse Chan and his ability to read the room.

Okay, here’s the current dilemma: your birthday is coming up. His birthday is coming up. He’s known you for three years now, and for all of those three years he’s been painfully, crazily in love with you. So much he doesn’t think he can survive another year without bursting at the seams. (Chan says he’s being overly dramatic, but Seungkwan knows the racing of his heart and the permanent smile on his face whenever he’s around you are very life-threatening symptoms.)

Therefore, Seungkwan has made it a personal mission of his to finally confess this year, preferably before he succumbs to his feelings once and for all. Problem is, he doesn’t know how. Or when.

“At this point, just wrap yourself up in ribbons and present yourself to them as their gift. They’d love anything you give them, you unfortunately included,” Chan continues around a mouthful of potato chips, scrolling through his phone as he chews rather loudly.

He glares at his roommate. “You can’t be serious.”

The other boy swallows—Seungkwan makes a face at this—and Chan finally turns to the brooding man, his voice becoming earnest.

“Kwannie, I have been the victim of your lovesick rants for three years. And for every one of those three years, you two have endlessly pined after each other with the excuse of ‘just being best friends.’ I mean like, come on, dude. Hansol’s constantly sending me screenshots of his conversations with them, asking why he’s the one being texted when he says that you’re the one they’re dating. I had to tell him—like, just last month—that you two are in fact, not together, and then he didn’t even believe me and almost asked them right then and there. I stopped him before he could. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Seungkwan listens with a frown at his roommate’s fed-up tangent. The ladybug that was on the ceiling is now perched on top of one of their shelves, wandering across the pot of a plant you had gotten him as a gift. Snake plants reflect good luck and resilience for growth, you had told him with a smile, and his mouth curves into a deeper pout.

“Channie-ah, if I’m going to confess, it needs to be perfect! It’s not like I can just throw myself at them and hope they’re willing to jump my bones too,” Seungkwan makes a half-hearted attempt at a joke, his hands hitting the sides of the pillow he’s holding with a thump.

Chan mutters something under his breath. The green, fuzzy pillow is chucked towards his head in response, and the boy shrieks.

“I heard that, you idiot.”

“Then you should know that they like you too, you idiot,” his roommate shoots back, tossing the pillow back towards the couch. “And please don’t talk to me about jumping their bones. That is something I do not want to hear about.”

Seungkwan catches it easily and rests the pillow on his stomach. “If they like me back then that’s even worse,” he bemoans. “That means it needs to be more than perfect.”

He’s not exactly oblivious. Seungkwan’s known now for a little bit that you might harbor some sort of feelings for him back, which is why he’s even allowing himself to move forward with a plan as bold as this in the first place. However, the idea of you still rejecting him—whether it be from unrequited feelings, or even worse, because his confession was pathetically lame—gnaws away at his heart with unrelenting constancy.

“I don’t think it needs to be perfect,” Chan tries to reassure and comfort to the best of his ability, but the way Seungkwan frets makes him doubt he’ll have any influence on the older boy at all. “Like I said before, they’d be happy with anything you’d give them. Especially a confession. I think you could FaceTime them right now, ask them out on a date, and they’ll say yes. Fuck timing, you know?”

It’s as if his words had fallen on deaf ears. His face lighting up with an idea, Seungkwan nods, determination set in his jaw.

“You’re right about timing. I’ll just have to choose the right moment, with a foolproof plan,” he declares dramatically, going to type up a plan in his notes app.

Chan runs a hand over his exasperated face at his friend’s awfully selective hearing, and the ladybug seems to take this as its cue to fly to another room.

┊ Step 1: Choose the right place and time for a private conversation!

Seungkwan determines that the first ideal moment to confess is when you and him are at your favorite cafe, comfortably catching up after a week of not seeing each other.

The cafe is in a lull at the moment, the only other customers being an old couple sitting in front of the large bay windows. You’re donning a comfy sweater and thick woollen scarf, one that was given to you by Seungkwan some few birthdays ago, and his face flushes as he tries to focus on the conversation again. Some story about your closing shift at work and coming home to your dog way later than you had anticipated.

It’s… oddly intimate, Seungkwan thinks as your hands make little gestures while you talk.

The soft, warm overhead cafe lamps make your eyes shine and his breath catches, too afraid to exhale. He thinks if he breathes too harshly he’ll wake up with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

God, he’s so nervous, fidgeting with his fingers and counting the seconds in his head on how long he should be making eye contact with you so as to not come off as suspicious. You smile while recounting the excited way your pup greeted you as you finally had trudged through your front door and the corners of Seungkwan’s mouth arch in turn. Bracing himself, he reaches over the marbled tabletop, grasping a hold of your hands in his as you ramble on and starting to play with your fingers.

Your voice falters for a moment.

Seungkwan traces his thumb along your knuckles and raises an eyebrow, doing his best to look unaffected and not like he wants to press kisses to the pads of your fingertips. When all you do in the end is smile at him and pick up where you left off, he makes a mental fist pump, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

Now, all Seungkwan has to do is somehow turn the focal point to him. Maybe wait for a natural pause in the conversation, or–

His brain goes haywire as you run your own thumb along the side of his hand. “Something on your mind?” you tease, though he’s quick to notice how your eyes flit between your intertwined fingers and anywhere but his face.

Interesting.

A boost of confidence surging through him, Seungkwan waits a beat before replying smoothly. “Nothing other than you.”

The hopeless romantic in him cheers.

The larger, more realistic part of him is completely mortified.

He watches with a clenched jaw as your face morphs into one of surprise, to disbelief, and then your face is warming to a hue he, frankly, didn’t know was possible. Seungkwan worries he’s faring not much better, clearing his throat and reassuring himself that he can save this somehow.

I wanted to talk to you about something, is what he wants to say.

“Uh,” he says dumbly instead.

There’s an embarrassingly long period of silence between the two of you, clearly both caught off guard by the other. Your hands are still clasped in his.

He tries again. “So…”

The barista calls your name, a matcha latte and iced americano sat side by side on the counter next to some of your favorite pastries on a cute little tray. As if a spell was broken, the pair of you jump apart like you were caught making out rather than just holding hands. You look at him apologetically. “Sorry, Kwannie. Hold that thought.”

Seungkwan is so, so close to banging his head on the table after you stand up and turn away from him. He momentarily wonders how much the hospital bill would cost.

Miraculously enough, he manages to hold himself back. By the time you’re sliding into the booth, giving him his order and inquiring about what he wanted to tell you, Seungkwan has dreadfully made up his mind to postpone the confession for another day. Cafe confessions are overrated, anyways.

┊ Step 2: Express your immense gratitude and appreciation for your relationship!

The next time Seungkwan decides to try his luck, it's over the course of a few days.

Chan, as per usual, treads into their living room with a snack; this time it’s a bag of sour gummy worms. He blinks in surprise at the sight of his roommate carefully arranging a bouquet of flowers on their table as if he’s approaching a baby deer in the wild. Seungkwan’s eyes are practically slits while he snips away at the ends of the flower stems, tongue caught between his teeth in utmost concentration.

The younger boy hovers near him, a little nervous about interrupting his focus and the consequences that would occur if he did. “What kind of flowers are those?”

“Lilacs,” Seungkwan replies immediately, never losing the attention he has on plucking some of the more wilted leaves off of a particular stem. “With some lavender and baby’s breath.”

Chan lets out a low whistle. He then regards the gift basket sitting next to Seungkwan with a small, knowing smirk. “What’s that in the bag?”

His roommate scowls at him as he ties the bouquet together with a soft, white ribbon, the bow the perfect finishing touch. “None of your business.”

“Who are you giving it t—”

“Channie-ah,” Seungkwan warns in a high, sugary sarcastic tone, and said man only smiles wider. “Don’t you have a gym you should be at right now? Or just somewhere else other than here at home?”

Shrugging, Chan pops the last sour gummy worm in his mouth and hastily crumples the empty bag into a ball. “Guess I could see if Soonyoung is up for going to the gym.”

He disappears into the hallway leading to the bedrooms, leaving Seungkwan to his own devices, and your best friend takes this chance to go over his carefully crafted gifts. He bites his lip. He hopes the flowers are to your liking.

His eyes roam over to the simple wickered gift basket on the table, filled to the brim with your favorite snacks. A handmade card sticks out on the side and he cringes. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that on three hours of sleep. He can see the places where the pen in his hand wavered a little too hard, little imperfections that make his skin crawl.

“Goodluck with your confession, Kwannie-ah,” Chan’s amused tone snaps him out of his thoughts.

He's dressed in more socially acceptable going-out clothes now, opting for a heavy winter jacket over a tank top and sweatpants instead of his favorite fuzzy plaid pajama pants. His gym bag is thrown over his shoulder, a water bottle hastily pushed into one of the side pockets. Seungkwan wrinkles his nose as he catches the sight of the silver chain sitting around his neck. He always told Chan they looked a little tacky, but he never listened. To each their own, he guesses, turning back to the dark oak table.

“Yeah yeah, don’t stay out too late,” Seungkwan waves him off.

Chan throws out a laugh as he steps out the door. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back. Y’know, so I’m not interrupting anything.”

The door clicks shut before the man can snipe his roommate with the pair of garden shears he’s holding.

Lee Chan was so fucking lucky he helped pay rent for a comfortable apartment nearby their work and in walking distance from a grocery store. Otherwise, Seungkwan swears he would toss the boy into the street without a second thought.

He still had an hour or two before you arrived; you had texted him earlier saying you would stop by after your work with some takeout, excited for a night in with him to catch up on the dramas neglected lately due to busy schedules. Usually, by this time, he would be sending random voice notes to you pestering you for taking so long and doing an improv song about waiting for a long lost love. Now, though, he blesses the stars that you love to take your sweet time on the train, knowing you spend the minutes with music blasting through your headphones as you gaze out the window lost in thought.

So Seungkwan spends his own time fussing over his appearance, switching from casual clothes to comfy pajamas to business formal (you never know), before he finally settles on some wide-legged joggers and a layered hoodie. That way, he reasons as he fixes his hair for the thirtieth time, no matter if you wanted to go out for a stroll or stay in and cuddle—assuming you accepted his confession, of course—he would be ready to go.

A brrring! from his phone startles him. He rushes to the living room as a muted knock on the door sounds, indicating your arrival.

Okay, Boo Seungkwan, he sucks in a breath. Play it cool.

The first thirty minutes or so go relatively peaceful. You’re fresh in your work clothes, greeting him with a tired smile and your guys’ favorite ramen takeout place. Light, easygoing chatter about your day calms his nerves, making himself comfortable on the couch with your leg pressed against his. It’s moments like these that Seungkwan really cherishes; your skinship and his eagerness, your careful attentiveness and his long rambles, your laugh and his joke being the cause of it.

Photographs and miscellaneous wall prints hang from his walls and watch over the two of you comfortably as you slurp down your ramen, giggling over who can make the most noise. His apartment is homely and he takes pride in it—he never lets anyone forget the amount of hours he spent pouring over what shade of green to paint the walls—but somehow, having you here only makes the place more lively. More homely.

As you’re cleaning up the living room table, a song spilling from your lips, it takes everything in him to not grab you by the waist and kiss you breathless. Instead, Seungkwan makes an excuse to retreat briefly to his bedroom, snatching the flowers and gift basket he had carefully stashed away under his desk.

You look up when he returns and halt in your efforts in stretching his favorite throw—a quilt his mother bought for him—across your body. Surprise is plastered all over your face, and he nervously bites his lip. He really hopes he doesn’t look as whipped for you as he feels right now.

“Hi,” he starts, bowing his head awkwardly and setting the gift basket on your lap. “These are for you.”

Your hands reach for the flowers, lips parted slightly and eyes wide with innocent bliss. Your voice echoes his in a question. “For me?”

“Ah, yeah,” he scratches at his neck and sits down, not wanting to hover over you like some intimidating guy at the bar. Your name falls off his tongue like it was there waiting to be let out. “I wanted to thank you. You um, mean a lot to me, you know? You’ve truly made my life so much more worth living. Whenever I’m sad, you’re right there to hold my hand through it, and whenever I’m happy, it’s like you take that joy and make it tenfold. I truly… don’t know where I would be without your kindness and support. I say this all because… well…”

The words get caught in his throat and he feels himself freeze in panic.

“...Seungkwan?” your smile is puzzled and his gaze pierces you with an intensity that makes you shift in your seat. “Uh, thank you, but my birthday isn’t for another two weeks.”

“I totally understand!—oh.”

He didn't exactly predict you misunderstanding this interaction as one of the thousands of possible outcomes during his nightly overthinking sessions, so he has no idea how to respond. “Uh. Um. This is for another reason other than your birthday, actually.”

“Oh, okay,” you pause. “Then what is it all for? Did you finally snap the friendship bracelet I gave you? You know I can make you a new one; kinda knew it would break with the amount of crap you put it through.”

Before Seungkwan can respond, there’s a heavy series of clunk!-clank!-clink!’s at the door, followed by someone very obviously jingling a set of house keys.

“Seungkwan!” someone sing-songs insufferably from outside the door, and the mentioned person can quite literally hear his jerk of a roommate turning the doorknob multiple times without actually opening it. “My lovely roommate and best friend, I’m home! I cannot wait to tell you about my very productive time at the gym with Soonyoung!”

Lee Chan has his grand entrance through the front door of their apartment, making a show out of kicking off his shoes and bumping against every piece of furniture possible. He doesn’t notice the way you two are fixated on him until he’s face to face across the coffee table with Seungkwan’s deadpan stare and your astonished expression. Chan stops mid-yell, arms falling limply to his side as his brain processes the fact that you two are currently not kissing each other with renewed fervor at the unconcealing of long-held feelings.

“Oh, shit. Was I interrupting something?”

Seungkwan decides right then that being homeless is better than having Chan as a roommate, and that he’ll terminate his lease first thing tomorrow morning.

┊ Step 3: Be honest and direct about your feelings!

After that disastrous last attempt, Seungkwan has sworn off trying to confess—at least, for the time being. He needs time to lick his wounded pride better, and in the meantime, Chan owes him daily morning coffee for a month as an apology.

However, it’s like it's your personal job to make it hard for him to keep his mouth shut.

“God,” you groan and miserably throw your head back against the couch. “Their love is so sweet. I’m so sick of them.”

The pair of you are wrapped up in the thick, white comforter on your bed, your laptop screen illuminating your faces in flashes of bright colorful pastels. Whisper of The Heart is a familiar movie to the both of you, having only watched it millions of times—yet you crawl back to it around the same time each year, heart squeezing excitedly at the life lessons of soul-searching and love taught in the Studio Ghibli film.

It’s the end of the movie, and as you delightfully wring your hands in anticipation for the confession scene, Seungkwan shamefully admits to himself that he spent more time watching your reactions than the movie itself. He can’t help it, eyes flickering to you every time you’d giggle or gush at Shizuku and Seiji’s antics. You were particularly fond of the story Shizuku had written, and he had marveled at the way you couldn’t stop yourself from pausing the movie to explain your analysis of the anecdote to him. He knew your theories inside and out, but he hung onto every word that fell off your lips like it was life or death.

You sigh dreamily and startle Seungkwan out of his thoughts. Your hands are now clutching one of the various stuffed animals thrown haphazardly around your bed. On the screen, Seiji’s arms are wrapped tightly around Shizuku, his words ringing loud and clear through your laptop’s speakers. I love you!

“First loves are so powerful,” you sigh again loudly as the credits begin to roll, the recognizable Country Roads playing. “I wish I got to experience something like them. When is it my turn?”

Time slows down.

Seungkwan knows it’s supposed to be a rhetorical question. That he’s supposed to roll his eyes and tell you to stop playing into your delusions; maybe even joke that you should just download a dating app if you’re this desperate. Perhaps it’s because it’s late into the early morning, or because he had one too many of the devastatingly delicious cookies you two had baked earlier—whatever the reason, he doesn’t even think twice before he’s huffing and throwing his arms around your shoulders, his cheek pressed to yours.

“I love you!”

Oh. That wasn’t how that was supposed to go.

You look at him, eyes wide. He can feel your breath against his lips and it makes his brain short-circuit, pulling away as fast as he had hugged you. The air is suddenly so thick it makes his throat feel choked up, like there’s something dry stuck in it, and he’s desperately reaching for some pathetic excuse as to why he just did what he did.

The credits end and the classic Totoro stares at you two for a brief moment on screen, before going black. It’s eerily silent in your room, your clock ticking like a time bomb on your wall. It’s dark except for the little squishable duck nightlight perched on your dresser, and he watches the way you swallow in the dim lighting.

“Stop messing around,” you ultimately laugh, shoving him away hard in the shoulder and reaching for your bottle of water.

He takes note of the nervousness in your giggles. Messing around? Messing around? He feels a mixture of irritation and frustration well up inside of him, pent up from the past few weeks of misfortune. Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “For goodness’ sake, I’m literally not. I’m serious. I love you.”

A choke.

You’re coughing violently and he’s at your side immediately, rubbing your back in soothing circles. The plushie you were holding is replaced with a proper pillow to keep you upright. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

It’s as if you don’t even hear him. You inhale a final breath to steady yourself and gawk at him. “Are you serious?”

“Serious about what?”

“You loving me.”

And it’s as if something in him finally snaps.

“Yes, I’m serious,” he whines, theatrically falling on his side and draping his arms over his quickly reddening face. “But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! It was supposed to be perfect. I had a whole masterminded plan, where we would go to the park, and there’s no one around but us and we sit on a swing set reminiscing about youth, and then the sun would be setting and you’d look at me and go ‘It’s beautiful,’ and then I’d look at you and go—”

Seungkwan stops when he hears your giggle.

He slowly brings his hands down from his face, staring at you with bewilderment.

You’re laughing. He just confessed his undying love for you and you’re laughing.

“Kwannie,” you gasp between fits of laughter, clutching your side with one hand and covering your mouth with the other. “Oh my God, Seungkwan, hold up. Give me a second.”

After your laughter subsides, you gently take his hands in yours. Highlights from the sole source of lighting line your hair in a halo-like glow. Your grin is as wide and as bright as a crescent moon; though his heartbeat is going wild at the what-ifs screaming in his head, he vows that’s going to be his favorite phase of the lunar cycle now.

“Seungkwan,” you start again, tone raw and sweet as honey, “I love you, too.”

You love him. You love him. Fireworks are going off in his brain, and his heart is rejoicing at the fact that you feel the same as he does. He swears he can hear the band that’s playing the congratulatory tune.

“But…” you trail off, and his eyes widen. “Wait, relax. Just listen to me.”

“All that stuff you said–about your confession being perfect. I hope you realize that I don’t need perfection from you,” he opens his mouth to protest, but you stop him with a look. “I’ve never wanted it, either. In fact, I’ve only ever wanted you. This… okay, this is super cheesy, so look away.”

Seungkwan scoffs. You give him another stern look, and he pouts, his gaze zeroing in on your laptop that’s been discarded off to the side. There’s a moment of your hesitation—palpable, so tangible he could hold it in his hands—before he feels the plush of your lips against his cheek.

“You didn’t make me fall for you by being ‘perfect,’ you made me fall for you by being yourself,” you finish, pulling away and ducking your head shyly.

“I—” Seungkwan pauses, his breathing a little shaky. “God, wait, I wish I had a do-over! Hold on.”

A thousand and one thoughts, all incoherent, are running through his mind at lightning speed. You wait patiently as he racks his brain for anything remotely put together.

“Can I kiss you?” is all he ends up asking. He gives up on being eloquent in his speech for now—his mind can’t really function anymore, only focused on one goal, and you giggle as his palm cups your cheek.

Your eyes meet his, shining. “Of course.”

When his lips press to yours, he swears he can see songs and hear colors. If there’s one thing that didn’t go wrong about this impromptu confession, it’s your lips moving against his, soft and tender and everything else he had imagined. You pull away first and he finds himself following, hoping you’ll indulge him in a second one; when you do, smiling against his lips, he feels like he’s made true inner peace with himself.

“Okay, I know this changes things, but please let me have a do-over,” Seungkwan gripes, finally breaking away and resting his forehead against yours. “Let me ask you out for real.”

“Alright, Kwannie,” you laugh and give him another peck on the lips. “When?”

“When?” he echoes, grinning mischievously. “Honey, the surprise is the best part. If I tell you when, it makes it less than perfect.”

┊ Step 4: Pray they don’t reject you Respect their response, no matter good or bad!

On the day of your birthday, you have your first date with Boo Seungkwan.

It’s confirmed when you and him are out on a leisurely walk, meandering around the park near your place and talking about the meanings of life. There’s not much to it; you’re dressed up in your favorite winter clothes, a scarf once again wrapped around your neck, your nose tucked into it to keep it from getting too cold. Your voice is muffled but pleasant to his ears, a warmth biting away the brisk air as the day winds down.

He’s jittery and he knows it. His gloved fingers brush yours every so often, hesitating before pulling away, and his eyes are embarrassed every time they meet yours. You had looked up at him earlier with mirth swimming in your eyes, giggling. “Nervous ‘cause we’re on a date?”

Seungkwan pouts. “Well, yes, actually. Simple as it is, I’d like this to be our first date of many.”

He sees the shock cross your eyes before it's replaced with pure joy. You tuck your face more into your scarf and Seungkwan physically feels his fists clench with the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks.

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching for his hand and locking your fingers together. “Lead the way, then.”

Seungkwan giddily tightens his hold on you. He simply can’t believe his luck. The love between you two feels like second nature, like something he’s known how to do all his life, and he wouldn’t trade the feeling of your hand in his for the world. You’re his go-to point of contact. His best friend. His partner in crime. His person.

The January sun, long and painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink, is dipping behind the city buildings when he stops. He didn’t really have a spot in mind for what he wanted to say, instead basing it off of how many steps he could take before the golden hour light hit your face just right.

He wants to kiss you again.

You quizzically raise an eyebrow as Seungkwan rubs his glove-encased thumb along yours, his brown eyes warm. “I know you said I just have to be myself, but being myself includes being totally and immensely in love with you to the point of having to confess twice. Also because my pride still can’t take that I confessed earlier than I wanted to.”

You’re laughing, and he is too, but he wipes away the tears welling up in his eyes and returns his hands to yours, proceeding. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I’m so grateful and blessed by the stars to have had you in my life as a friend up until now, and I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to return the happiness and more.”

He says your name, soft and precious. Your eyelashes flutter. “Will you let me have the honor of being your boyfriend?”

No hesitation laces your reply.

“Yes, stupid. For you, it’s always yes.”

Sharing giggles, you throw your arms around his neck, lips brushing his before closing the remaining distance. The kiss is just as sweet as the first few, however a little colder due to the frigid winds picking up around you. He feels your smile against his lips and knows his expression is mirroring yours. It's silly and profound, and you would think with how dramatic he’s being, he just proposed to you for life. Shit. He’s getting ahead of himself, and stuffs the thought away for another time.

He pulls away this time and clutches you close to him. “Let’s go inside now? I actually had more to say, but I’m freezing.”

You throw your head back in a mellifluous laugh and nod vigorously. Smiling, Seungkwan firmly believes he’ll never get tired of the sound, just like he’ll never tire of his life being entwined with yours.

┊ Bonus:

Your teeth are chattering and your skin tingles as you step into your wonderfully heated and dimly lit apartment. “Wow, it’s so cold out—”

“Surprise! Happy birthday!”

The lights flicker on as you shout, scrambling back into Seungkwan’s arms. Your friend group stands in various corners of your living area, some holding party poppers and wearing poorly suited birthday hats. Seungcheol holds a cake in his hands that’s frosted with your favorite color. When they see the two of your guys’ interlocked hands, a second round of cheers erupt, and you laugh in disbelief.

“Just so you know, you can thank me for you two finally getting together,” Chan exclaims happily from his spot next to a smirking Jeonghan, pumping his fist in the air with the excitement of a kid who just got told he can stay up an hour past his bedtime.

Seungkwan lunges for him.

“Okay, but am I wrong? Stop it—ow, wait, ouch, stop—!”

[floweredsoul03]

Hello! I hope I'm sending requests right, because it's rare that I do these. Could you do a Boom!Sonic going on a date with someone who's an introvert and/or has social anxiety? As someone who struggles with this myself, I'm curious to see how that would go; how he'd figure out why they're so quiet and get them out of their shell a bit. I understand if you can't take this request. If you can take your time, no rush! I hope you have a good day/night!💙

Boom!Sonic going on a date with someone who's an introvert / has social anxiety

(Boom!Sonic x Reader)

The first time meeting Sonic:

You decided to stroll around the village to get to know this new place you will now know better as your home. Then you hear screams. Running towards the sound, you see mechanical bees and crabs attacking a burger joint called “Meh Burgers.”

Ready to fight, you unsheathed your katana and used your power to speed it up. One by one, you sliced a crab swiftly with precision.

“What the..!”

You looked up to see a bald, egg-shaped headed man with a mustache way too big not to be considered comical in a floating machine.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Besides, you’re not even Sonic or his other rodent friends.” The man speaking then put a hand on his chin, thinking. “Or are you? Bah! I can’t remember; who cares anyway. If you want to try and be a hero, you can go ahead and die like one. Attack them!” He pointed towards you.

Looking around, the crabs and bees started surrounding you.

“Not so fast, egghead!” Sonic ran in but then started slipping and looked down. “Ice?” His eyes followed the trail, and it ended with you—someone with a scarf covering half their face and a katana in hand. Before he can do anything, he hears you shout, “Falling snow, adorn my night!”

With a slash in the air with your katana, what looked like a snowstorm surrounded you, leaving you unharmed, unlike the robots that were once surrounding you, now being slashed and beaten around. The storm you created calmed and disappeared once all the robots were destroyed. Unaware that Sonic was stumped in place, he had awe on his face as he was still looking at you.

You just did that all on your own. Sonic has seen other people with powers but hasn’t seen anyone do something quite like what you did.

With a shout of frustration, the man you now knew as Egghead went off, “You’ll pay for that! I hope you’re ready to be paranoid for the rest of your life. Shadows in the corner of your eye, a creak in the floorboard, umm.” He scratches his head, but Sonic spin attacks the eggmobile before he can continue. “Can it already.”

“You just became my new enemy!” Egghead yells as he’s sent flying away.

Once he’s out of sight, you sigh, putting away your katana.

The purpose of going out for a walk was to relax and take a break from spending hours settling into your new home. Not even making it past day one being here, you’ve made an enemy. Granted, you’re confident you can take care of yourself, but just because you know how to fight doesn’t mean you want to go around looking for trouble on purpose.

You tense up when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn and see the blue hedgehog that got rid of Egghead. “Those were some sick moves there, and I didn’t even need to step in to help you. Name’s Sonic. And what’s the name of the Ice Prince/Princess.”

In retrospect, you knew off the bat he wasn’t an awful person, and he means well, but your mind shows no mercy. The way he has no problem with direct eye contact with you has you looking anywhere but him. His honest compliment gives a perfect opening to strike up a conversation and possibly make a new friend. Still, experiences of the past haunt you, making you fearful of slipping up and regret saying anything at all. And the way he asked for your name has you panicking. Did Sonic mean to make it sound flirtatious? If he did, that makes the pressure of responding even worse. If he didn’t, you’d feel like an absolute fool and start mentally berating yourself for even thinking of that. What if he called you Ice Prince/Princess because you already came across as a cold individual? You’ve had people tell you that on multiple occasions, more than you would like to admit. Even if he didn’t mean it that way, your mind leads you to these pessimistic thoughts.

He may not think that now, but what if he does later?

You knew you accidentally took too long to respond when you heard Sonic. “Umm. Are you okay?”

Great. Now, he probably thinks that something’s wrong with me.

Panicking, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Sonic is taken aback when suddenly you’re gone, but there is a frozen fog where your feet once stood, running away into an alley.

“Wait!” He tries running after you without stepping on the trail of ice. But then he comes to an intersection where a massive mess of ice and snow is left behind, and the trail has ended. It gave Sonic whiplash how every move you made during the fight looked calculated and confident, ruthless with your attacks, with a steeliness in your eyes. Still, once the fight was over, it was as if you became an entirely different person. Eyes shift anywhere but him, your thumb scratching and rubbing the handle of your blade where your hand was placed, and slight sweat begins forming on your forehead that wasn’t there when you were fighting.

Their powers consist of ice; isn’t that supposed to help with heat? Sonic thought to himself.

Disappointed, he looks around one last time before running off.

You’re grateful for this because not even a moment later, the sneeze you were holding comes out on its own. You knew you couldn't outrun him, so you caused the mess on purpose to make it seem you completely vanished when, in reality, you were hiding behind a dumpster.

How you two become friends:

If Sonic thought it would be a one-time thing, he would have been dead wrong. The few times when there was a moment when it seemed an opponent had the upper hand, you’d show up out of nowhere to help and then disappear. Of course, with this happening, Sonic’s whole gang knew about you now.

Most were convinced you were a good person, just not the best at socializing. Sticks, on the other hand, was still on edge.

But that didn’t stop Amy when she saw you coming out of a store with a bag. She instantly lit up; she and the rest of her friends hardly saw you around when they went… well, anywhere. She had a clue that you probably struggled socially, so maybe she can help you and become friends.

So she walked up to you and said, “Hello there.”

You jumped slightly in surprise before turning around, “Hi.” You felt nerves prick your hands slightly, but it seemed like thanks to the fact that you had an idea of how much of a sweetheart Amy is -as long as you didn’t purposely do or say something rude- you weren’t as skittish around her compared to the day when you first encountered Sonic.

“Thanks for helping me and my friends whenever we’re in a rough situation.”

You shook your head, “It’s no problem.”

They seem nervous yet gentle. Sonic must’ve meant this when he said they’re different when not fighting. Amy thought to herself.

“I’m sorry for always running off.” You carefully chose your following words before Amy beat you to it.

“Interacting with others is hard for you?”

Even though she asked, you can tell it was more of a statement than a question. Some of her warmth and gentleness rubbed off and made it easier to look at her as you nodded.

“How about we become friends, and I’ll slowly introduce you to everyone else?”

You’ve made some friends in the past, but sometimes life happens, and you part ways. You’ve met people in the past who you called friends, but as time passed, you noticed it seemed like they invited you into their already tight-knit group out of pity. And you’ve had people you thought were friends but made you feel small in your life.

However, for some reason, it didn’t feel like Amy was asking you out of pity. You knew she was a good person, and you couldn’t help but feel like once you said yes, there was no way she would let you drift away so easily. So you took the leap of faith and said yes.

The day you were forced to have to face Sonic was an accident. You and Amy were sitting on the couch talking about who she should introduce you to when Sonic just barged in, and his sight landed on you, forgetting what he was initially there for.

“It’s you!” He ran and sat next to you. “Talk about a cold shoulder. You’re hanging out with Amy but don’t have enough time to spare for me? I’m hurt.” He says dramatically, his hands clutching the area where his heart is.

“Sonic.” Amy chides. Annoyed already that things aren’t going the way she hoped. She wanted to talk to her friends about your social anxiety and introvert tendencies before they talk to you.

“It’s fine, Amy.” You assured her. If Sonic is still making jokes with you, then maybe that means he didn’t take you running off multiple times as an offense. “I’m sorry for always running away. I’m not the best at talking to people, so please don’t think it’s something personal.”

Sonic waves you off as he lays back with his arms behind his head and his feet propped up on the table. “It’s fine, I get it. You couldn’t look at or talk to me; you started fidgeting with your sword, sweating, and running away. So that means despite being able to produce ice at will, you just couldn’t stay cool enough not to have the hots for me. Am I right, or am I right?”

You swear you felt yourself malfunctioning at that moment, “What?”

Amy smacked Sonic’s feet off the table so hard he almost fell off from where he was sitting.

“Sonic.” Her tone of warning.

“Yes, I heard you the first time; I don’t have amnesia; I know my name, Amy.”

You thank whatever gods are up there that you wear a scarf.

Sonic helping you out of your comfort zone:

Amy would inform him about what she’s learned from you about your social anxiety. He does like you. Even though he tends to be blunt, rude, and shortsighted about others' feelings, being around you might help him become more considerate of others' emotions.

But he is not perfect, so don’t expect him to be 100% a saint.

Sonic decided to take over introductions as his duty as a hero of the people. Or so he says.

Did Amy agree? No.

Does Sonic care? No.

When the day came, you decided you were ready to meet the next person in their group; Sonic was ecstatic for you to meet his best friend, Tails. He told you to wait home, and he’d bring him over. He did not tell you that they were both coming over on hoverboards.

You couldn’t help but notice how much fun they looked.

“You’re (Y/n), yes? Sonic said you’ll be joining us today.” The fox you assume is Tails comes up next to you with a hoverboard in one arm before handing it over to you.

Before you can say that you don’t know how to ride one, Tails continues, “Don’t think that just because you never knew before means you still can’t learn now. I’ll teach you.”

As silly as it may sound, you can’t help but feel like you just gained a younger brother.

And that’s how Sonic was getting you comfortable with meeting more of his friends, making these outings fun enough for you to forget about society and live in the moment.

The moment he knew he was in love with you:

Shadow was attacking you and your friends. Well, now, only you since he knocked out the rest. Amy already sent a request for backup from Sonic before she passed out. You were doing the best you could to hold out. You can parry some attacks and sense when he teleports, but the problem is his speed. You can cloak yourself into a frozen fog when he runs at you, but he can still get a few hits. You’ve only been able to do more defense moves than offense. You can use your ability to go faster, but it’s not super speed like Sonic.

When you were wondering if you might fail your friends, Sonic arrived. And when the battle was over, you stood in silence for a moment when, for some reason, a giggle left your lips. Which then turned into laughter.

Sonic asked if you were okay when he saw how you looked.

Your scarf had fallen off from your fight with Shadow, showing your face for the first time. Your smile was big yet still held a gentleness like your voice.

And your laughter.

Whenever you laughed before, it was usually just a closed-mouth giggle. The most Sonic could get out of you was when you placed your hand over your scarf where your mouth was to keep yourself from bursting out. But now here you are. Laughing out loud unapologetically without holding back.

You looked beautiful even with a messy hairstyle, dirtied clothes, and bruises. There was a sunset with a chaotic mess of ice surrounding you.

An ice-ability user with a warm heart.

“After everything we’ve been through, I have no idea how we’re still alive; it makes no sense!” You laughed. Your laughter started feeling contagious to Sonic, and he joined in.

How he would confess to you:

As much as Sonic makes it seem like he’s not a sappy person when he puts in the work, he’s exposed as actually being a softy. He wants to make this special, and he does.

You feel drained and desperately need to recharge. You care and love your friends, but if you don’t care for yourself when you feel this way, you start getting irritated and feel a bit snappy. You’ve done a good job holding back from doing or saying anything you know you don’t mean, but it still scares you now and then that it might happen one day. Yes, arguments have happened amongst your friends, but you try your best to be the neutral side.

Saying your goodbyes, you head home. However, once you are away from your friends, Sonic runs beside you. “I made plans today for just the two of us.”

“I’m sorry, Sonic, but I’m not in the mood for anything hectic right now.”

Sonic panicked, “You’re going home to rest up, right? Well, it just so happens that my plans involve both of us just slowing down for once.”

You blinked. “Did I hear that correctly? Sonic T. Hedgehog, ‘the fastest being alive,’ Mr. ‘can’t be tamed,’ Mr. ‘can’t slow down’ has made plans to take it easy for once? Is it the end of the world?” You then poked his shoulder. “Is this secretly Metal Sonic with a new upgrade from Dr. Eggman? A new ploy to let our guard down and destroy everything on Seaside Island?”

“Ha ha, very funny. You know, you’re starting to sound like Sticks,” He took your hand to hold in his and started leading you away. “Don’t underestimate me. I can be unpredictable when I want to be—slowing down? No problem. We’ll start by just walking down to Meh Burgers. No running.”

“I look forward to seeing if you can back up your words.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Sure enough, you and Sonic walked to Meh Burgers hand in hand without running. Before you mentally prepare to speak to the cashier, Sonic says, “You can go ahead and find us a table; I’ll order.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not a problem for me.” He waved, reassuring you before he walked away.

You find a table to sit at and wait for Sonic. Unfortunately, your mind starts to take a cynical path. You chose a table that you hoped seemed inconspicuous, but it still doesn’t change the fact that there’s not really a hiding spot in an open area like this.

Did you stand out negatively? Why does it feel like a giant neon light is pointing at you? Is there someone here talking about how weird you stick out? Are some of them pitying you, thinking you’re eating here alone?

Distracted by your overwhelming thoughts, you don’t sense Sonic arriving with the food. “Everybody else is busy in their own world.” You jump slightly, hearing his voice. “If you listen closely, you can hear them talking about something they got going on.” He says as he places down the tray.

When you listen, you hear conversations about visiting family, going to a theatre, and shopping. Your thoughts and emotions slow, and you feel like you can breathe properly. You miss Sonic's gentle smile before he changes the subject to something he knows makes you happy and allows your mind to drift away from negative thoughts.

You and Sonic are walking hands together to the beach. Sonic has seen more than enough sunsets, but this time, he needs it now more than ever to help ease his nerves and confess to you.

Sitting down, you noticed that something was off with him, but instead of asking immediately, you decided to watch the sunset and wait awhile for him to hopefully feel comfortable enough to talk about it—emphasis on hopefully.

He takes a breath before taking out a Starfruit, “Do you want to share?”

Others may think it's a small gesture; however, you recall reading a story and telling Sonic about a scene where a character mentions that if two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They will remain a part of each other's lives no matter what.

Your heartbeat quickens, and your face warms up, but not because of anxiety.

He knew you needed to rest and recharge, so the fastest person alive slowed down for you. He also knew how nice-looking restaurants make you paranoid about whether you're overdressed or underdressed and whether you're showing proper etiquette, so he took you to a burger joint. He knows how you rehearse every interaction with a cashier multiple times in your head so you don't screw up and make a fool out of yourself, so he went and did it for you. He noticed that your mind had taken over and nearly drowned you with your thoughts, and he helped pull you out. And right now, in this moment, he remembered a small detail in a story you’ve only talked about once.

“I’m not the best at talking about my feelings, but I hope you know what I’m trying to say.”

For once, without a doubt, you hold Sonic’s free hand by the wrist to gently pull it towards you and use an index finger to draw a heart.

Sonic lets out a breath of relief before whispering, “That’s good.” He had a big smile on his face.

A/N: Did I give the reader similar powers of Kazuha and Ayaka from Genshin Impact? Yes, I did. Did I make reference to The Case Study of Vanitas? Yes, I did. Did I also make a reference to Kingdom Hearts? Yes, I did. Do I regret any of it? No 😈😂

[klilyr]

Jegulus raising Harry microfic: 640 words

“Um… dad?”

Regulus looked up from his paper to see a very nervous looking Harry fidgeting with his pajama sleeves, looking down at his slippers. He glanced over to James who was magically washing up their breakfast dishes.

“Which one of us are you talking to there, Haz?”

“Both. Or, uh, either, I guess…” Harry mumbled, still not meeting his eye.

Regulus was struck with how much the boy had grown over the past year. He would be heading back to Hogwarts in a few days, the Christmas break was rapidly coming to an end, and Regulus could hardly believe how fast the time had flown. He was dreading Harry’s upcoming departure, if he was being honest with himself, he loved having him home so much.

He would be fifteen before they both knew it.

James set the last of the plates back in the cupboard and came to sit beside Regulus, both looking at Harry with curiosity, wondering what it is that has him so nervous.

“We’re all ears, hamster,” James said, warmly.

“I think…” Harry started but trailed off quickly, his cheeks burning red and the two men exchanged another glance with each other, anxiety spiking.

“IthinkIlikeaboy,” Harry blurted out, so quickly, that it took a second for the actual words to register in Regulus’ brain.

“You think you like a boy?” James clarified, a smirk appearing on his handsome face.

“Yes.”

“Which boy?” Regulus asked, “Ron?”

“Merlin no! I mean, yes, obviously I like Ron, but not like that!” The shock of the question had, finally, made Harry raise his head to look at his dads in disbelief.

“Dean? Neville? Seamus?” James started listing off names, face twisted in thought and Regulus laughed. It was just like James to immediately name every single boy he could think of until he hit the right one.

“No! It’s none of them! It doesn’t matter who it is, I just wanted you to know,” Harry said exasperatedly, face still a deep shade of crimson.

“Thank you for telling us, mon cheri, we love you and we will be here if you have any questions, at any time,” Regulus said, pointedly looking at James.

“Cedric Diggory!” James yelled, triumphantly, “I knew he was distracting you during that Quidditch match we came to see! You can’t let cute boys take your mind off the game, kid.”

“Oh like you’re one to talk,” Regulus muttered under his breath, which earned him a playful slap to his shoulder.

“It’s not my fault you know how to handle a broom so well,” James muttered back which caused the teenager in front of them to groan loudly.

“It’s not Cedric! Merlin!” Harry’s head fell into his hands, “It’sdracomalfoy.”

“Dra… did I hear you right?” James gaped at his son before turning to Regulus, “did he just say Draco Malfoy?”

Regulus couldn’t respond, he was biting the inside of his cheek trying not to laugh and embarrass their son any further.

“Yes. I know he’s mean but I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s smart and he’s really good at flying and even when he calls me names, my heart starts beating really fast and he has lovely hair and when he’s thinking in class, he gets this little frown line between his eyebrows and…” Harry trails off again, very aware he’s just said too much, “anyway… I just thought you should know. Okay, I’m going to go over to Ron’s now.”

Harry rushed out of the room before either man could say anything and James turned to Regulus in disbelief.

“Draco Malfoy?” James stammered, horror painting his face, “that little ferret is horrible to him!”

Regulus just turned back to his paper, lifting it high enough to cover his grin.

“Ah Jamie, it seems history really does repeat itself, hmm?”

(written for @shoopsthereitis as part of a Xmas ss exchange. I adore you sar, I'm so pleased to be your friend xxx)

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

your husband, i mean ex-husband

you knew perfectly well this wouldn’t end well. who would ever think a failed relationship could work again? bringing back the past only brought more anger and pain. your ex-husband was a prime example of this.

naoya zenin was definitely a fucking bastard.

controlling, angry at everything, and the embodiment of neglect—your ex-husband had thankfully been out of your life for five whole months.

so why the fuck was he between your legs right now, busy devouring your pussy?

“na-naoya fuck, please stop…” you barely managed to voice your protest through the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. you didn’t really want him to stop, but this needed to end before things got even messier.

naoya paused the frantic and sloppy movements of his tongue on your clit, lifting his head from your pussy with a look that screamed, are you serious right now?

“do you my cock want then?”

fuck. things were definitely going to get messier.

“no, no, just… stop, please.”

your ex-husband sat back between your legs, clearly annoyed, and let his gaze travel over your entire body, starting from your face. his expression was unreadable, but you knew him well enough to recognize the gears turning in his head. those weren’t the eyes of someone who planned to reward you—they were eyes ready to punish.

“naoya, don’t even—” you started, but before you could finish, he suddenly flipped you onto your side. before you could even react, he had your right leg over his shoulder, positioning himself between your thighs.

he definitely wasn’t going to fuck you romantically in a goddamn spooning position.

“you know,” he started, holding your thigh effortlessly in one hand as he stroked his cock with the other, “i was planning to spend the whole night worshiping your pussy until you lost count of how many times you came. then, i was going to slide inside you, fill up every inch of that tight little pussy, and pump you so full of my cum that you wouldn’t leave this bed without being pregnant.” he tilted his head, an infuriating smirk on his face. “but, as usual, you had to ruin my surprise with your stupid thoughts.”

you tried to push him away with your right foot, but he had you trapped. your other leg was pinned under his body, leaving you helpless. there was no getting out of this unless he wanted to let you go—and you both knew he didn’t.

“you bastard, i swear—AHH!” your scream tore through the room as his thick cock entered you, stretching you wide.

“fuck… i’ve missed my wife’s pussy so much,” he groaned, his grip on your thigh tightening as he felt your walls clench around him. you could feel his body trembling with pleasure against yours.

goddammit, you had missed this. you’d missed how his cock, thick and veiny, filled you up perfectly, molding to your walls as if it were made just for you. the only thing you and naoya had ever been good at together was sex. in that area, you’d never lost a single battle.

he was merciless, pounding into you with brutal precision, his cock slamming into your dripping core over and over again. he was relentless, driven by the desire to feel all of your heat and wetness wrapped around him.

“hah, got nothing to say? you, who never shuts up... can't seem to open that damn mouth of yours now, huh?”

“fuck you, na-naoya,” you spat, your face buried in the pillow. everything was too much—the sensations, the pace, the depth. even if you wanted to reply, you couldn’t.

“listen to this.” he went silent for a moment, letting the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin fill the air. “listen to the dirty, filthy sounds of your little slutty pussy begging for my cock. ngh—it’s clenching around me so tight, like it doesn’t want me to leave.”

it never wanted him to leave. there wasn’t a single day you didn’t want him. no one else could satisfy your pussy the way he could—whether it was his tongue, his fingers, or his cock.

“so-deep… you’re so deep,” you finally lifted your head, looking at him with tear-filled eyes from being pounded by his cock.

“of course i’m deep. it’s my wife’s pussy—”

“ex-wife,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “your ex-wife…”

“FUCK NO!” his voice rose in anger as he slapped your ass three times in quick succession, forcing a scream from your lips. “you are my wife. i don’t give a fuck about legal bullshit. do you understand me?” another harsh slap landed on your ass. “DO YOU?”

“oh my god, yes—YES, I UNDERSTAND!” you shouted through the mix of pain and pleasure.

“good. now, repeat it.” he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle. “i am naoya zenin's wife. say it, my love,” his lips found your ankle again, his tongue teasing the skin there while his slick cock plunged into your tight, sticky walls.

“i’m… i’m your wife, naoya,” you admitted, your voice shaking but certain.

“i-i..” fuck, you really wanted to say it. you wanted to scream to the whole world that you were his wife, the only lady of the zenin clan. but nothing was the same anymore. at least not for you—though, judging by your husband, no, your ex-husband, everything was exactly as it used to be.

“yes, you?...” his kisses trailed higher up your leg, his possessive eyes locking onto yours. “look at me.”

his commanding tone made you obey instantly. “i’m your wife, naoya.”

he growled as you admitted you belonged to him. his lips pressed kisses along the skin of your leg before suddenly biting down on a spot. it was as if he wanted to brand you, to make sure everyone knew you were his, sucking and tugging at your skin with his teeth. “that’s fucking right. you’re mine.” he didn’t stop moving inside you, his cock still pounding and filling you completely. “you’re a fucking zenin. the woman at the head of the clan. MY wife. fuck—mine.”

his head fell back, and his thrusts slowed as he got closer to his release. but still, every slow thrust hit your g-spot with perfect precision. the blunt tip of his cock you loved so much, the one that drove you crazy, was stroking it so perfectly that you never wanted this moment to end.

“you’re going to take my cum like a good wife, aren’t you? you’re going to carry my children—fuck, my children…”

“please, fill me up, please.” you were begging now, desperate for him, for this. no matter how toxic he was, no matter how fucked up everything had become, you wanted to bear his children more than anything.

“i will, baby. ngh—shit, shit, shit…” his hand squeezed your thigh as he resumed pounding into you with full force. his cock pulsed inside you, and you felt the rush of his cum filling you up, flooding your womb until it spilled out.

“oh my god, naoya, i hate you—I fucking hate you,” after shouting your hatred at your ex-husband, a deep, masculine groan escaped him. he’d cum inside you countless times before, but you couldn’t ever remember him cumming this much.

as his cock softened slightly, you thought he’d let you go, but instead, he flipped you onto your stomach and pinned your arms behind your back with one hand. his free hand came down hard on your ass, making you yelp.

your other leg was still hooked over his shoulder, but his dripping cum was already sliding out of your pussy and trailing down toward your ass. naoya finally let your leg go, and just as you thought you’d be turning to face his sweat-slicked body, he flipped you onto your stomach instead. pinning your hands behind your back with his left hand, he delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “ass up. i’m not done yet. i need to fuck you again to make sure none of my cum goes to waste.”

without a hint of hesitation, you lifted your hips, offering yourself to him. with your face buried somewhere between the pillow and the sheets, he used his free hand to spread your ass cheeks wide. his cum, still inside you, began to drip out, making a soft, lewd drip-drip sound as it landed on the sheets below. “what a fucking waste, letting it drip onto the bed,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with mock disappointment. “guess i’ll have to punish you for that. but first…” he leaned in close, his face just inches from your ass, and ran his tongue from your soaked pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole. when he stopped there, his warm breath fanned over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. he pressed his face close to your dripping folds, running his tongue from your pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole, where he paused, letting his warm breath tease you. “i want to taste this. you lose your fucking mind whenever i eat this tight little hole, don’t you? if you get pregnant tonight, maybe next time, i’ll do more and fuck this tight, fucking sinful hole of yours too.”

“i-i promise, naoya.”

“what do you promise?” his breath tickled your sensitive skin before his tongue gave your hole a short, teasing lick.

“ugh—to carry your child. i promise to carry your child.”

“that’s the right answer, mrs. zenin.” he wasted no time and dove in, licking and devouring your favorite spot with relentless enthusiasm.

that night, you learned with absolute clarity that there was no escaping from this man. whether you gave him the clan’s new heir or not, whether you fled to the other side of the world to escape him, naoya zenin would never abandon the lady of the his clan.

a little note: this might be one of the first things i've written. it was a bit different originally, but after rereading it, i didn’t like it, so i rewrote it. also, a huge thank you to @sugurus-thoughts for encouraging me to post this :)

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[herweirdass]

Hi! Can you possibly write a Joe Burrow imagine please where he keeps referring to his gf as “wifey” or “my wife” to her and other people when he speaks about her even though they are not married yet. But he is waiting for the moment to pop the big question. Until one night he sees the perfect opportunity to propose right after a small argument about leaving the toothpaste cap off.

my wife | jb

life with joe burrow was nothing short of a dream. you were his safe haven, his number-one fan, and the love of his life. but there was one thing that always made you laugh: joe’s habit of calling you “wifey” or “my wife” to everyone—teammates, friends, family, even strangers.

“yeah, wifey cooked this amazing dinner last night,” he’d say, grinning like a lovestruck fool. or, “my wife’s the reason i’m not walking around in mismatched socks today.”

you’d always roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “joe, i’m not your wife yet.”

“technicality,” he’d reply with a smirk. “you will be.”

you thought it was just joe being joe, but little did you know, he was serious. the ring had been sitting in a drawer in his office for months, waiting for the right moment. joe had planned and replanned his proposal a hundred times, but nothing felt quite perfect.

one night, after a long day for both of you, the two of you were brushing your teeth side by side in the bathroom. you noticed the toothpaste cap sitting off again, and with an exaggerated sigh, you grabbed it and screwed it back on.

“joe,” you said, shaking your head, “how hard is it to put the cap back on? i do it every time.”

he rinsed his toothbrush and gave you a sheepish look. “it’s not that i don’t care—it’s just that i forget.”

“you always forget,” you teased, crossing your arms.

he turned to face you, his lips twitching into a grin. “you’re really gonna make a big deal out of this, huh?”

“yes, because one day, you’re gonna leave it off, and it’s gonna dry out, and then—”

you didn’t get to finish your sentence because joe suddenly dropped to one knee, right there on the bathroom floor.

“joe, what are you doing?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“fixing the toothpaste cap problem for good,” he said, pulling a small velvet box from his hoodie pocket. his voice softened as he opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring. “i mean, if you’re officially my wife, maybe you’ll have more patience with me leaving the cap off.”

your eyes widened, tears already pooling. “joe…”

“i’m serious,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “you’ve been my wife in my heart for a long time. i’ve been calling you that because it’s how i feel. and now i just want to make it official. will you marry me?”

you stared at him, your hands flying to your mouth as you nodded vigorously. “yes! of course, yes!”

joe slipped the ring onto your finger, standing and wrapping you in a tight embrace. “finally,” he murmured against your hair. “i’ve been dying to ask you.”

“you couldn’t have waited for a more romantic moment?” you teased, laughing through your happy tears.

“why? this is us,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “you, me, and a toothpaste cap argument. it doesn’t get more perfect than that.”

you kissed him, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. and as the two of you stood in the tiny bathroom, your laughter echoing off the walls, you couldn’t agree more.