#but actually I think it is my favorite word

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Being Human

Derek knows humans are fragile in comparison to wolves. He did have human siblings after all and his mother drilled their vulnerability into him since he was old enough to understand. He knows he has to be gentle around them, knows they are weaker and prone to sickness. Consciously he knows this, but he isn't at all prepared for when Stiles—the only human in the pack—is hurt.

Actually hurt.

Gasping, crying, arms shaking in pain hurt.

He doesn't know what the fuck to do. Because they're alone, trapped, and he can smell the wrongness coming off the human. He can hear his heartbeat fluctuating from weak to sporadic and the sweat and blood and scent of fear blankets the enclosed space so profoundly he thinks he's going to suffocate off the smell.

He siphons away whatever he can but there's still too much. It's barely a bandage over an open artery, like trying to put out a fire with an eyedropper. Even with him pulling away most of the pain the infection has already spread. Every gasping breath and rattling cough has Derek's body twitching in panic.

Human.

The word is a curse, a defect in his world. If Stiles were a wolf he could re-brake and heal the broken rib digging into his lung. The gash on his side would have slowed in it's bleeding if not stopped all together. If he were a wolf there would be no infection or sickness or bloody nose. The bite is a gift.

Derek doesn't know what to do with the frail, weakened human laying with his head on his thigh. He can't even think through the dread and worry and helplessness. Stiles curls in on himself, leans into the hand that is trying to staunch the blood and pull away the pain.

"Not quite how I imagined things would go when I daydreamed about my face down in your lap Sourwolf..." He jokes. Derek almost wants to shake him for it. Stiles is dying and he's joking.

"Don't talk. The pack should be here soon."

"N-Not talk? Have you met me? I'm alone in the dark with Beacon Hill's most eligible grump and you expect me not to make a sex joke?"

"Stiles!" Derek growls and then stops when he hears the awful whistling sound coming from his chest.

"I'm fine. Just a little fever..." Derek wishes it were just a little fever. Wishes he knew the difference between a little fever and this. He doesn't remember his baby sister feeling this warm when his mother said she was sick. He doesn't really remember much of the younger ones... the human ones. Maybe he'd be more helpful if he did...

"Stop it." Stiles chastise. "You keep frowning like that and you're eyebrows will grow together." Derek hates that he does this... Hates that he's the one in pain and he's still trying to lighten Derek's mood. Hates that he's smiling at him through a grimace, that he's looking at him like he's worth something when he knows he isn't.

"I'm okay Der." Stiles says gently. "You k-know you can't actually get rid of me right? I've sorta got a pool going with the pack. How long it'll take till I can get you to say you love me. It's gotta be unironically of course. Lydia's rules." Derek feels his heartbeat tick up at that and Stiles smiles. "I say this year, Scott gave you three. But I know I'm your favorite so it shouldn't be hard."

"Stop moving." He begs when Stiles turns onto his back to look up at him.

"Better view."

"Stiles!" Stubborn! Humans were stubborn. Weak and frail and as stubborn as they came.

"You're beautiful." Stiles murmurs and Derek feels his breath catch in his throat. "Maybe that's wrong to say to a guy huh? But like, I always thought it. Y-Your eyes. I like looking at them. Even when you go all grumpy and broody and flash red at me, they're still beautiful."

Derek feels Stiles' body shake with another jolt of pain and maybe, he's the one crying now. "You gotta promise me something Der, okay? P-Please. You gotta take care of my dad."

"Don't-"

"Would you just listen? I love Scott, I trust him with my life. He's my brother when it comes down to it but he's pretty freaking useless when he's got a new girlfriend with him and dad's going to be bad for a while. He'll drink. A lot... or worse he'll just jump head first into any job they throw at him. P-Please just watch over him for me?." Derek feels himself nodding and Stiles' pained smile widens.

"You know you've always been my alpha right?" Derek startles at that. "Like I said, I love Scott and I love the pack. I'd do anything for any one of you but... since the beginning. Since the start, you've always been my alpha."

"Stiles-"

"Just take care of dad. Scott will be okay, Lydia might need you more than she lets on. And Isaac says he doesn't want anything to do with you but it's not true. I-It's not. If anything he wants you to be proud of him. So call him okay? He'd be on the next flight home, he'd be back here at your side the second he sees your name light up. He kept the same number. Explain it to him. Tell him why you sent him away. N-Not for you, for him. He thinks you hate him, don't let him think it anymore."

Derek can't understand. Can't begin to make sense of this human. This small, 145 pound, eighteen year old looking up at him with all the tranquility and calmness of a condemned man. He's no longer scared. Fear has been replaced with a sense of serenity and its worse! Far worse than the terror. Derek presses harder onto the bleeding wound, chokes on the sob that wants to wrench it's way out of his throat when he hears it... The low howl a mile off.

He covers Stiles' ears and howls back, feeling relief and hope and looking at those confused brown eyes that haven't stopped watching him since they ended up in this hell hole.

"D-Der?"

"I love you." He says, because he does. Because he's never not cared for this ridiculous human being. He had been his headache, his friend, his anchor... The one who has protected him, saved him, given him a family when he never thought he deserved it. The resilient, caring little human that looked at him like he meant something. Like he was worthy of meaning something.

Resilient and stubborn and caring and selfless and fragile... And Derek wishes he were half the human Stiles is.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka jake has been your boyfriend in his heart for months—he just needs to hear you say it.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ 1.4k ⌗ fluff, jake is vulnerable, this one is longer than the other parts but it's a MONUMENTAL STEP in their relationship :')

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── everyone's favorite couple is OFFICIALLY a couple now,,,bc in case anyone didn’t noticed, i never actually established if they were officially official or not..whoops. but i think that's also kinda the entire premise of their relationship as of now─jake wanting to give y/n as much time as she needs to be ready and him proving that he's willing to wait however long it takes for her :')

“But…this doesn’t mean everything’s fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there.”

Jake remembers your words.

Clear as day. Burned into his memory. His life mantra.

And since then, he’s had one and only one promise on repeat inside his head:

That he’ll do whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes to deserve you again.

To deserve being with you.

To deserve loving you, out loud—without holding back this time.

And if that meant patience—if that meant doing it all on your terms—then okay.

He’ll wait.

For you?

Yeah. He’ll wait forever if he has to.

Because it’s not up to him. It can’t be.

Everything’s in your hands now.

He’s in your hands.

So Jake follows your lead.

And at first, it was easy. To just…let things be.

To just keep this—whatever this is.

To keep staying by your side, unwavering, like some stupidly devoted golden retriever boyfriend who’s, technically, not a boyfriend but definitely does your dishes and rubs your back and makes out with you on the couch like he does.

To keep letting you steal his hoodies and never ask for them back. To keep ordering drinks for you at cafes because he knows you hate talking to cashiers.

To keep coming home to you, as if your place was his own.

To keep kissing you goodnight and good morning like you belong to him, even though he’s never actually asked.

To keep pretending he’s fine.

Completely. Totally. Definitely fine.

Fine with being in this maybe-kinda-sorta relationship.

Fine with never keeping any of his hoodies if it means he gets to keep you.

Fine with giving you his whole heart without knowing if he’ll ever get yours back.

Because he gets it. He really does.

You need time. You need space. You need to heal.

Because of him. 

So Jake—Jake doesn’t push.

Because if there’s one thing he has never doubted—

It’s that he wants you.

So he waits.

And waits.

Until—

“…You’re thinking out loud again,” you say suddenly, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Jake blinks, caught red-handed.

He turns to look at you, and for half a second—he forgets what he was stressing about.

Because you’re sitting on the hood of his car, legs dangling, your knees brushing his, swallowed up in one of his old hoodies. Your skin glows warm under the melting summer sky, orange and gold pouring all across you, highlighting the slope of your nose, your cheekbones, the way you tilt your head back and let the light hit you.

And you’re just. So. You.

Soft and comfortable and beautiful and his.

Jake clears this throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands, your gaze going back toward the sunset, "Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Jake inhales sharply, “Y/N.”

You turn to him, curious. “Jake.”

And god, he almost chickens out right then and there.

Because you’re so close, and all you did was simply say his name and he wants to crumble.

He’s in so, so deep.

And that’s how he knows he needs to do this.

“What…exactly are we?”

Jake’s voice comes out small—more so than he intended, as if afraid for the answer.

You blink, caught off guard.

Your expression shifts just slightly.

And Jake sees it—the tiny hitch in your breath, the way you blink one, two, three times.

And then panic floods his chest, because—

Oh god, he just ruined everything.

He shouldn’t have said anything.

He told himself he’d wait. That he wouldn’t push. That this—whatever this is—would unfold whenever you were ready.

But you?

You’re not surprised, per say.

You weren’t not expecting this conversation.

It’s been lingering in the air between you and Jake for a while now—soft and subtle.

Lingering in the way he holds you during movie nights, in the way he always brings you ‘and yet’ flowers (an inside joke you both refuse to explain to anyone else). In the way he stays over every night just a little longer than the last, in the way one of your drawers turned into a Jake drawer.

In the way he looks at you like he’s already in love.

And you noticed it.

You’ve known.

You’ve felt it, too.

But still.

Your heart tightens at his words.

Finally, you open your mouth, but before anything can come out—

“I mean, I—I don’t know, I was just thinking, you know, and I just..,” Jake rambles, brows furrowing, lips forming a worried, endearing, pout. “I know we act like—like this, and I really, really like where we are right now. But I—”

He exhales sharply. Runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t want to assume anything without asking. Like, ever. And there’s no pressure, seriously. If you still want to take things slow, or just—keep doing what we’re doing, I’m fine with that. More than fine. It’s just—”

Your chest tightens.

Jake’s fully facing you now, eyes searching, voice lower—softer, vulnerable, “I just don’t know where we stand, I guess.”

He swallows hard. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve going haywire.

You glance away, your hands curling into your sleeves as if trying to ground yourself.

And then—you finally look back at him.

“…Do you?” You murmur. One of your hands reaches for his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Do you want to know?”

Jake’s breath catches.

Because you’re looking at him now, all hesitant and soft and wide-eyed, and maybe just a little hopeful.

And nervous—in the same way he is.

Like you’re waiting for him to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for months.

And he doesn’t even hesitate. Doesn’t even doubt it.

“Of course I do,” Jake says, voice low and certain. The words spill out like truth. Like instinct.

“I want to be with you,” he continues, voice unwavering, leaning in slightly. “I want to call you my girlfriend. I want to show up to dumb parties with you and watch everyone realize I’m the luckiest guy there. I want to buy you snacks you’ll forget to eat and make reservations at fancy restaurants we’re going to be late to.”

You blink, lip parting slightly at his words. Your brain is short-circuiting—you don’t even think you’re breathing anymore.

And Jake must’ve noticed your reaction, because the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. But his voice remains steady, “But most importantly, I just want you to be happy with whatever we decide. So if you need time, or if you don’t—”

“Yes.”

Jake freezes.

A blink.

“What?”

You swallow, ignoring the way your face is burning, “I mean—yes. I want that too. The parties and snacks and reservations. All of it.”

For a solid business second, Jake just stares at you. Like he almost doesn’t believe you. Like his brain is making this up out of sheer desperation.

But he takes one look at you—the way you’re looking at him all soft and sure—and he breaks.

Into the biggest grin of all time.

He grabs both your hands, clutching them close to him, looking at you like you just handed him the universe, “You’re being serious? Like, for real, for real?”

You raise a brow. 

“You don’t believe me? I must be doing a terrible job if you really thought I didn’t like you this whole time,” you giggle, the air around you immediately shifting into something lighter, something that feels like forever. “Of course, I do, Jake.” 

Jake softens instantly. His smile turns a little crooked, a little shy, “Well, yeah, I knew that. I just…I don’t know, I just wanted to hear you say it, you know?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder lightly—but he tugs you closer, one arm winding easily around your waist while the other links your fingers together, his thumb immediately stroking the back of your hand.

And it’s so easy. So natural. Like you’ve been his forever.

“And you’re my girlfriend now,” he says, absolutely wanting to tattoo it on his forehead for the world to see.

You giggle to yourself, a little breathless now as you rest your head against his chest, “Mmhm. I’m your girlfriend, Sim Jaeyun. Officially.”

“Holy shit,” he groans from above you. “You’re gonna have to say that, like, five more times.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter into his hoodie, but you’re smiling.

“You’re mine,” Jake places a soft kiss into your hair, his words muffled against you, “Mine, mine, mine.”

You’re beaming under his hold, your heart full.

You tilt your head up, catching his gaze again—eyes full of wonder, like he still can’t believe you’re real.

“I’m yours, Jake. Completely.”

But that’s just the thing.

You were always his.

He just needed to know that he was yours, too.

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[cosmerelists]

Would These Cosmere Characters Survive Email?

There was a post I saw talking about how Achilles of Iliad fame would not survive sending one polite email, despite being good at, you know, war and stuff. It got me wondering: Would Cosmere characters succeed if they had to Send Email?

1. Steris: Yes

Steris is a master of email. She's cutting down her enemies with "per my last email" and "just to make sure we're all on the same page" and she knows how to use both CC and BCC.

2. Vin: No

Vin is leaping out the window at the first sign of email.

3. Kelsier: In a way

Kelsier signs off every email with "Smiles :)" which is terrifying, given some of the emails he writes.

4. Marsh: Yes

Marsh doesn't think that Kelsier writes good emails. Marsh, however, feels that he writes very good emails. Most of which contain the word "however."

5. Lezian: No

Much like Achilles in the post I saw, Lezian would die if he had to send one (1) polite email.

6. Sadeas: Yes

Sadeas has one of those fancy email signatures that says "Torol Sadeas" with green lettering in a cursive font. Adolin has always been secretly jealous of it.

7. Dalinar: No

Dalinar strikes me as one of those people who are incapable of answering more than one question in an email, who when asked, "Would you like to have the meeting Tuesday or Wednesday," simply respond "Yes."

8. Marasi: Moreso than she thinks

Marasi is always having a friend read over her email for her to make sure it's okay, but she's actually very good at email and probably doesn't need to do that.

9. Vivenna: Less so than she thinks

Vivenna writes emails that are politic but incisive...and never once has she been understood properly. Greg from IT still hasn't forgiven her for that email she sent a year ago that Vivenna thought was pretty charming.

10. Jasnah: Yes

Jasnah's emails are long, polished, and perfectly grammatical, and her eye only twitches a little bit when she gets "yeag" in response.

11. Lightsong: Yes but also no

Lightsong's emails are great! But of course, it's actually Llarimar writing them according to his "interpretation" of what Lightsong says.

12. Shallan: Yes but also no

Shallan was taught Proper Email Technique as part of her education. But also she saw that "Your timesheets are now three days overdue" email...and then she ceased to see it, and now she's busy designing Adoliin a new email signature that's way better than Sadeas's and uh maybe Radiant needs to take over again.

13. Adolin: No

The worst turn-based combat, in Adolin's opinion, is email. Why can he not simply duel Maurice from Accounting with swords?

14. Sarene: Yes

Sarene's favorite turn-based combat is email. Because she always wins.

15. Raoden: Yes but it's not his favorite

Raoden would much rather pick up the phone or stop by your office, but he can do email if he needs to. It's just much better to talk in person, you know?

16. Fort: No

His emails keep getting flagged as spam. If he didn't put "Great Deal!!!" as his subject every time maybe it would be different.

17. Yumi: No

It's not that she writes bad emails exactly, but she definitely overwrites them. Her intro paragraph is always like five lines long, and her conclusion turns "best wishes" into like nine sentences.

18. Rlain: Yes

Rlain is unfailingly polite in emails, even when he is responding to one that was...less than polite.

19. Sazed: Yes

Sazed's emails are meticulous and well-written, and he can always cite the exact policy he needs.

20. Renarin: It's mixed

Renarin appreciates that email allows you to consider and craft your response, but he does NOT appreciate that tone is impossible to determine. When his boss wrote, "We need to have a meeting," Renarin thought he would die (it ended up being about what color balloons to order for Sharon's birthday). Renarin just wishes humans would use email tone indicators like the Singers do.

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

puddin!reader being a crybaby on her period?

pairing: puddin!reader x older!rafe

warnings: mdni, lottie do not read, mainly fluff but suggestive content, ddlg themes, use of 'daddy'.

word count: 700+ words

a/n: cel finally sticking to just a blurb??? btw i fear this is just me on my period...

tags: @athaliahxoxo

rafe was met with cries bouncing off the walls as he came through the front door, dropping the bags in hand to look for you immediately.

"puddin'?" he calls out, making his way upstairs to find you on the floor of the bathroom sobbing. your legs were folded beneath you, head tilted up as the tears flowed down your cheeks.

"baby, what's wrong?" he asks, crouching down in front of you.

he grabbed your arm, looking over you with a worried expression and checking for any sort of injuries you could've had.

"you left me" you sob, throwing your arms around him.

your words caught him off guard but he wrapped his arms around you, hand rubbing your back gently.

"puddin', i asked you if you wanted to come and you told me no" he says softly.

"but you didn't say you wanted me to go with you" you wail, burying your face in his chest.

it was the second day of your menstrual cycle, which was arguable the worst. your flow was at its heaviest, cramps riddled your body with discomfort, and you were emotional as ever.

you had thrown a fit earlier about there not being any good snacks in the house; nothing chocolate, nothing sweet, nothing savory, nothing you wanted. the subtle complaints turned into cries, rafe finding you on the kitchen floor in tears over the matter.

so, like the good fath-... lover he was, he offered to go get you all the snacks your bleeding heart desired. he even sat with you at the breakfast bar while you made a list of everything you wanted him to pick up—which was damn near the entire store.

he asked if you wanted to come with, just in case you saw something that you didn't think of, but you declined. you actually told him you'd rather die than leave the house in your state—he widened his eyes and slowly nodded at that.

he also figured maybe you wanted your space from him because you usually did during this time. one minute you were all over him and the next his presence made you want to hurl. he concluded the latter had been long forgotten by this point.

"i'm sorry, puddin'" he soothes, hand brushing over your hair. "daddy shouldn't have left you all by yourself"

you nodded against his chest, continuing to sob into it. he knew you weren't really upset over that, not genuinely. your hormones were just so out of wack that any little thing was setting you off. it was best to just comfort you and let you get it out of your system.

"shh, it's okay. daddy's got you" he cooed, holding you close and littering kisses on your head until you finally calmed down.

"come on, let's get some food in you, yeah?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod weakly. with that he helps you up from the floor, taking your hand in his and guiding you downstairs. he sets everything he purchased on the counter, pressing behind you as your eyes trail over the items.

rafe cooks your favorite, something you hadn't even thought of when making the list. rafe did though, because he knew you better than you knew yourself. you're pressed either into his side or against him the whole time he cooks.

when he finally finishes, he sits you on his lap and feeds it to you, knowing you wouldn't even bother touching the fork yourself. and since he knows you so well, he knew you would crave something sweet after.

he had gotten you an array of various sweets; ice cream, brownies, cakes, and candies. he gave you ice cream though, for now, mumbling something about making you brownies later in the night.

he watched you swirl your tongue around the cone, eyes glued to the living room television that was playing. his thoughts drift as he watches you, but he keeps them tucked away.

"that's my pretty girl, all better now?" he asks.

you give him a nod, settling back against his chest contently.

rafe didn't leave your side for the rest of the week. he fulfilled your every request and even when you briefly declared you wanted your space from him, he was never too far. he even canceled all his work meetings, saying he had "family things" to take care of.

anything to keep his puddin' happy.

-

[daegall]

☆ when the candles burn out.

➷ Jeno Lee has everything he's wished for, except for you.

pairing: best friend!jeno x (implied fem!) reader

genre: bff2l!AU (WE R SOOO BACK), birthday!AU, university!AU, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none, but feel free to lmk if you find any

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: happies birthday to the (officially titled!) birthday boyyy!!! wishing him the very very best and hope that he knows we're so proud of him and love him sooo much!!!! I've missed writing sm so this was soo fun to make!! sorry if i've been super inactive, i've still got a lot to do before graduation ♡ i hope you all enjoy!!!

If he was asked, Jeno would say his life is very fulfilling, and that he's completely satisfied with it. How could he say any differently? He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends and a steady side job to support himself. He shouldn't be complaining.

But he's lying to himself. He knows he feels empty inside. And he knows what could fill that void.

It's you.

Jeno always felt he was missing something—he figured he would fix it later in life. He never knew it would hurt this much, he never knew it would be this hard to fix it. Frankly, he wishes it was something else that would be the glue to fix everything in his life.

It's not that Jeno hated you, no, he loved you. So dearly—he's never ever felt anything so intense in his life. Every time he looked at you, it was like he was reading his favorite book, unable to peel his eyes off the pages. Every time he heard your voice, it was like listening to the soft chirping of birds in the morning—the breeze in the afternoon—the comforting sounds of the bustling city in the evening. And when you touched him, a hug, or even something as simple as a high-five, it's as if you're a fireplace in winter, keeping him warm, inside and out.

God, he wanted you. Bad. Jeno never know one could yearn so deeply. He was never one good with words, but you make him want to write thousands of poems and sing melodies dedicated just to you.

The echoing questions that all his friends constantly ask him haunt him.

'Why don't you tell her?'

'She doesn't know yet?'

'What's the worst that could happen?'

'Why are you so scared?'

That's what Donghyuck always asks him. Jeno can't begin to tell him, he doesn't know where to start, Donghyuck wouldn't understand the turmoil he feels.

Jeno's scared that he's not what you expect. That you have a completely different vision of him than who he actually is. Jeno thinks you need someone who is able to love you loudly, who isn't afraid to give you everything that you not only need, but want, too. Jeno is sure that he's not your ideal man.

Today's his birthday. 25th. He knows because Jaemin greets him the very first this morning, calling him 'halfway-50 year old'. Jeno only rolls his eyes at his usual strange antics, pushing him out of the way of the fridge to grab his yogurt from the fridge.

When Jeno checks his phone, he realizes that Jaemin isn't the first one to say happy birthday. He finds out with a mouthful of yogurt, and a heart full of love, that it was you. On April 23, military time 00:12, you left a long paragraph wishing him a happy birthday, thanking him for everything and for being a great friend, and wishes of love and luck.

"Friends don't send birthday messages that long."

Jeno barely catches on that Jaemin is shamelessly peeking at his phone, throwing him a pointed look. "Maybe she does."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise—a deadpanned look. "She sent me a sentence on my birthday. At 5pm."

"That's cause you gifted her a giftcard for her birthday."

"That's what friends do!" Jaemin retorts. "You gifted her animal crossing—that shit's expensive!"

Jeno has to admit, he's right. About one thing. Friends don't send an essay's worth of a birthday message.

Okay, yeah, saving up for animal crossing for you took some time, but Jeno would do anything for you. And he means everything.

Like meeting up at your place for a birthday celebration with others. He would much rather spend it with only you, but that doesn't seem to be an option, considering how you love to make a huge deal about his birthday every year.

Now here he stands, at your door, knowing full well that you've planned some 'surprise' party. Despite that, he'll still pretend to be shocked—just to make you happy.

Jeno only needs to wait about 3 seconds right after he knocks, before the door swings open, the music inside finally distinguishable and—oh, it's... you. Just you.

Nobody else is seen behind you in your apartment, the familiar living area he recognizes so easily dimmed with a low, warm light, the walls filled with handing streamers of red and green—his favorite colors.

Jeno's heart has never swelled this much with love, his head has never been so clear and unbelievably messy at the same time, his practiced surprised smile completely fading in an expression of shock, his jaw hanging lightly.

"Hello, birthday boy," You grin. God, Jeno might kiss you.

The way you can't seem to stay still in excitement, the anticipation on your face and the way you wear his sweater, something he's definitely left accidentally somewhere inside there—he adores it all.

He never thought his feelings could get even more eager and heartfelt, and yet here he is, feeling it tenfold right in his heart.

"Come in," You smile, grabbing and tugging at his sleeve gently.

You want to laugh at his surprised expression, your excited smile falling shy. "Surprise! I bet you thought it was like all the surprise parties I hosted, huh?"

Jeno should have seen it coming. The fact that you saw through him almost immediately. A soft huff of a laugh leaves his lips as he nods, growing more comfortable as he ventures deeper into the surprise. His eyes trail over the streamers reflecting the warm light from your lamp, his gratitude growing almost unbearable.

Finally, his eyes land on the cake. Unlike the usual ordered or store-bought cake you make Mark Lee get every year for the party, it's sloppy, and it's clear that you made it yourself. The icing barely covers the full surface of the cake, leaving blank, splotchy spots along the cake.

"I tried my best," You comment, noticing his gaze on your cake. You really did, practicing some nights and watching multiple videos to find the best recipe to use.

Jeno grins even more his gaze shifting to you. If you weren't mistaken... he looks at you differently. Well, he looks at you as he always does, with a twinkle in his eyes and with utmost attentiveness, but tonight... it's different.

You think—and this is a big assumption—that he's looking at you with love. You could only dream that he would admit it.

"I love it," He reassures, slowly approaching you. "thank you, Y/N, I love everything about this."

Your cheeks feel sore from all the smiling, but you can't seem to stop smiling, pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. "I'm glad. You deserve the best, Jeno."

Jeno holds you tight, his nose burying into the depths of your hair, eyes shutting to savor the moment as long as possible. His hands are warm, you can feel it through his sweater that you wear, one hand on your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades.

It's as if his hands have burnt through the fabric, because you feel every single movement his hands make. The way his thumbs rub gently up and down—the way his palms tensing up as he holds you closer—this feels better than it should.

When you pull away, the warmth finds it's way to your heart, beating faster suddenly and soaring, as if it was searching for his own to entangle in.

When you lead him to the couch to finally blow out the candles (with he candles now about a third of it's original height), Jeno has never felt happier, leaning in close to the cake.

He laughs when you suddenly panic, halting him to search for your camera.

"Why do you even need to film this?" He chuckles softly, it's a rich sound you find yourself enjoying more than you should.

You roll your eyes, finding the camera on your messy study desk, hidden behind a stack of books you never seem to finish reading. "To remember this! I want to look back on this when I'm eighty and reminisce like a stubborn old lady."

When Jeno blows out his candles after an awkward minute of you singing him 'happy birthday' by yourself, he finds himself wishing that you'd be a stubborn old lady with him. He wishes with his whole heart that he'd be there, reminiscing with you, that'd your grandchildren would be gagging at your love story, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Jeno gives you the first slice of the cake, despite your protests, handing it to you with a stern look. His heart melts when you take it from his hands, a small playful scowl on your lips. "I wanted you to taste it first..."

"Fine," He sighs, picking up the two forks you prepared. "we'll eat it together, yeah?"

Jeno dismisses your objections, already stabbing the forks into the cake and scooping it up. He laughs heartily when your words die in your throat, offering the fork to you.

You stare at the piece of cake on your fork with intent. "If it tastes like shit, I'm sorry,"

Even if it did, he'd pretend it was the most delectable delicacy he'd ever eaten. He would believe so, with his whole being. Even if it was bad, your stunning smile would be sweet enough for it to substitute the taste.

You're surprised when Jeno brings his own fork up to your lips, blinking in shock. When you look up at him, he gives you an encouraging look. "I'll feed you, you'll feed me."

You don't think he's aware of how intimate this is. Not when he's looking at you with such innocence and care. But with the dim, warm lighting from the distant lamp, and the music that still plays softly in the background, this feels too romantic—too real.

You go along with it anyway, knowing that you'd do anything and everything for him.

As your lips come in contact with the cake, and your teeth clash just slightly with the metal of the fork, you realize the strawberry jam you used for each layer—it's sour.

Instantly, you gaze up at Jeno, to gauge his reaction and his opinion of your cake, only to see that his mouth is closed, lips stretched into a soft, loving smile as his face his dodged from your fork.

"Jeno, you—how could you!"

In a moment, both forks are on the ground as you lunge forward to grab at his shirt. On your lips is an embarrassed smile, your eyes shut as you shake him back and forth. "You ass! I made this for you..."

"Sorry, sorry!" Jeno laughs, his hands enveloping yours, holding on top of them as you continue to shake him. "You just looked so cute—all anticipated and excited,"

"Yeah! For you to taste it!"

"Fine, fine! I'll taste it! Just stop shaking me!"

When you scowl and release his collar, his hands don't leave yours, instead, he takes your hands in his, his fingers slotting almost perfectly between yours with ease. You don't shy away from this, it's normal for him to do this. It's a typical tactic he uses so you don't start fooling around once more—but this time... it feels different. His touch seems gentler, his thumbs rubbing softly up and down the sides of your palm. You have to admit, it has your heart in a twist.

"How are you going to try it if you keep holding my hands?" You smart him, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jeno's eyes search yours, his gaze deep. It's almost as if he's trying to look into your soul—trying to find the place you keep the thought of him. He should look into your heart, then.

His right hand suddenly leaves yours, and just as you think he's about to grab the fork once more, his hand inches towards your face. You don't dodge it, despite your shock, your lips parting in surprise, and Jeno knows that he's interrupted one of your sassy, smart retorts that he loves so much.

It's like instinct when his palm envelops your cheek, that you lean into his touch, your head tilting into his hold. As his thumbs rub at your cheek, his eyes search your entire face, searching for any signs of discomfort or rejection. He searches, and keeps searching, only to find nothing. You want this. As much as he does.

"...so are you going to try the cake?"

"Give me a minute, you dork,"

You laugh, and he laughs when you laugh. Your laughter entangle in the air and echo, like a resonating song on repeat—the kind that no matter how many times you play over and over, you never get sick of it.

Suddenly, Jeno's nose is brushing against yours. His thumb gently caressing at your bottom lip. He searches your eyes once more, and at this proximity, he can finally tell what you feel. In your eyes, it's him. In his eyes, it's you. In your heart, is his. In his soul, is yours.

The tender exchange of affectionate looks screams only one thing.

I love you.

When Jeno's lips press to yours, you're not surprised. Instead, you welcome it warmly, reciprocating and leaning into it.

His hands travel, one to your neck, the other your waist to tug you closer. Your own find comfort in the hairs of the bottom of his neck, tousling the strands there. You feel his lips curl into a smile, as his neck cranes to find an angle to grow closer to you, if it were possible.

Jeno slowly and gently lowers you to your back, his hand protecting the back of your head as he settles you down on your carpet, hovering over your body. As your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue finds yours, tangling tenderly and lovingly, declaring his care and affection, all his feelings for you.

You smile against his lips as Jeno's laugh vibrates against your own, content and devoted, finding the whole situation unbelievable. Luck truly is in his favor, and he thinks he's one step closer to his birthday wish coming true.

When Jeno pulls away, his breath is warm against your lips, the tip of his nose grazing against yours.

"...tastes sweet," He finally elates, smiling. His eyes find yours, pupils dilated with love.

You laugh out, eyes squeezed shut, and head throwing back against his hand that still holds you protectively. You snort when he gives you a confused, almost lost puppy-like look. "The cake jam was sour, Jeno,"

"Oh," he hums. "must've just been you I was tasting, then..."

You push playfully at his shoulder. "Oh my god, you sappy idiot!"

"No, no," He retorts with a grin. "you taste sweet. I didn't get a single taste of sour,"

"Taste the cake, then!"

"Don't wanna, just want you,"

Despite his words, you make him taste the cake, laughing as his nose scrunches up. "It's—oh god—it's sweet! I swear!" He insists.

Finally, Jeno feels complete. He no longer feels an empty void inside of him, he no longer feels lonely or hurt when he looks at you—though he does feel his heart hurt, swelling with the amount of love he has for you. He can finally say wholeheartedly that he's satisfied with his life, that he feels fulfilled.

He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends, the best girlfriend he could ask for, and a steady side job to support himself and his girl, you.

Jeno is dead set on making his birthday wish come true.

[mirainwonderland]

Content: MDNI, jealous Leon, afab sub, m dom, Leon x reader, cunnilingus (f receiving), unprotected, p in v, smut with some plot

Words: 3.4k

A/N: via request to expand on my headcanon of jealous Leon I come bearing this offering. (Thank you @daliastar) I hope I expressed how I think he would react well. If you enjoy it pls like and let me know, I love hearing from people ☺️ oh and if you have a request, send it over, I love ideas! :D okie bai have fun RIP you

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“What was that all about?” Leon tries to make his tone sound controlled and unbothered. It’s not working out so well. He tugs off his jacket trying to feign nonchalance, but there’s a fire burning beneath his rib cage.

“Hm?” Your oblivious little response makes the jealousy flare up even hotter, but he bites it back. It’s not like it was your fault. He doesn’t want to be that kind of guy anyway—that immature little prick that takes his insecurities out on his girlfriend.

You turn toward him, unbuttoning your dress as you do, and he finds his gaze drifting low over the sliver of your chest and bra that’s becoming visible with each button freed.

Goddammit. That’s his. That’s all his! Every inch of that goddamn gorgeous body is his and his alone, and nobody or nothing is gonna get a sneak peek at his girl.

He snaps himself out of it before you notice his internal petulant tantrum that he’s desperately trying to keep just that: internal. He takes a deep breath and tosses his jacket onto the back of the chair, reaching for his belt next, hoping you won’t notice how he’s all but yanking it off like a sulky kid.

You haven’t noticed a thing. Hell, you’re not even looking at him as you focus on changing out of your outside clothes.

“That guy we ran into.” He tries not to spit out the words and make it obviously venomous. “Where do you know him from again?”

He’s attempting to sound interested rather than interrogating. And thank god you’re not paying close enough attention to see the boiling jealousy behind his eyes.

“Oh. I told you. Knew him back in college. Same classes as me or something. Can’t really remember, actually.”

Leon watches your back as you walk over to your vanity and pull your hair back, dress hanging open.

“You… go out with him or something?”

Your little laugh tells him that you haven’t caught on to the slight cyanide in his tone.

“Oh god no! He wasn’t really my type. I don’t think he sees me like that anyway.”

Leon stares at your reflection in the mirror hard, like he can’t even wrap his head around how fucking dense your big beautiful brain is sometimes.

“Oh he definitely sees you like that.”

You pause in taking off your makeup to look at his reflection in the mirror with that dry, disbelieving expression you give him. The little pink on your cheeks that’s not from your blush doesn’t make him feel any better. You shake your head with an unconvinced smile.

“Don’t be silly Leon.” You return to scrubbing off your makeup.

He watches long and hard while you do your skincare. Your face glows as your delicate fingers apply that face oil you love so much. He feels his dick stiffen with mixed feelings of jealousy, possessiveness, and thoughts along the lines of, Only I get to see her naked like that. Face, body, everything. Just me.

Dammit, he hates himself. More than anything right now, he hates himself. But it’s like something else is possessing him as he watches you slip out of your dress and go into your closet for something more comfortable to wear.

That’s it. He really can’t stand it anymore. He tosses aside the belt in his hand, not caring where it lands, and follows after you. He corners you in the closet, approaching from behind you where you can’t see him just as you’re pulling a pair of your favorite lounge set from your drawer. He catches you, big arms wrapping around you from behind.

“No.” He says, voice sounding tender in your ear, but laced with an intensity you pause for. He intercepts your hand, taking the pjs from you and tosses them back in the direction of the drawer. “Don’t put on anything else.”

His lips trail over the back of your neck.

“Leon…” You kind of laugh, bewildered. Your hands come to wrap around his forearms. “What are you doing?”

One hand reaches behind your hair to pull out the clip you’d pulled it back with and let your soft strands fall down around your face again.

Beautiful.

“You didn’t see the way that guy was looking at you?” He forces his voice to sound more concerned than jealous. “He was undressing you with his eyes.”

His lips and nose brush your temple as he stares straight ahead, remembering the interaction from earlier.

“You really need to be more careful, Y/N. Guys do stuff like this all the time.”

He gives your temple a kiss. He feels the jealously bubbling in his gut, making him clench his teeth and hold you a little tighter.

“Leon, he wasn’t—“

His jaw clenches so hard, he’s surprised that his teeth don’t shatter in his mouth.

“C’mere.” He says more lowly and calmly than he even expects to. He tugs you around to the mirror he’d hung in your closet, just for you. He makes you look into it with him behind you, your body clad in nothing more than the bra and panties you’d put on this morning.

“Look at her.” He refuses to let go, even a little bit. He nuzzles the back of your neck again, mouth at the skin there and nuzzling your hair aside so he can reach more.

“Watch her face.”

He slides a free hand around the front of your throat, holding your jaw securely in his hand to make sure you’re watching. You watch as your eyes lid and your cheeks flush the color of obscenity. Your lips part but nothing comes out. He noses your hair aside and nuzzles the side of your neck.

He bites down on the skin, and holds you a little tighter when you jerk. Your mouth opens in a silent ‘Oh!’.

“Leon, what are you-“

“Tell me to stop.” He blurts, cutting you off. His face is lifted from your neck and he’s staring you down in the mirror.

“I-“

“Tell me. To stop.” He says, slower this time, emphasizing every word. He feels like an absolute asshole. He feels like even if he asks for consent a million times he’ll never truly make you realize that what type of feelings you allow him when you say yes. Do you know you’re consenting to his jealous tantrum that makes him wanna smother you with his body?

“You… don’t have to stop.” You say carefully, a little curious and bewildered of whatever this is that seemed to come out of the blue.

It didn’t really of course, you’re just a sweet little oblivious girl—his girl, and he loves you to death. But sometimes. Sometimes he wishes you could know how he feels. Not to make you feel bad but so that you can give him the reassurance he doesn’t know how to ask for.

But he’s too good at hiding things from you.

He grits his teeth, studying your expression in the mirror.

“What am I gonna do with you…” He sighs, shaking his head almost disappointedly. You feel a pang in your chest. He’s not disappointed with you of course, but with himself.

He grabs your jaw with more intensity than before and forces it to tilt to the side so he can kiss at your neck. You grimace, waves and waves of shivers migrating down your spine to pool in the bottom of your panties.

He wants to prove it to himself. That he’s it. That he’s the one you come to for everything. That you won’t ever need another man again. He knows it’s awful, but he wants you to rely on him for these things. He wants to be the one you come to at the end of the day and curl up with, or take your clothes off for. Whichever one you’re in the mood for, he’ll be here. He’ll do it.

He kisses your neck and your shoulders, and massages your skin with a firm touch of his hands. You wince a couple times when he’s too forceful, but you never open your mouth and say anything. You never complain. Secretly, you kinda like it; and part of you can sense that this is something he needs.

He’s too lost in his own internal conflict and jealousy to even register his own strength. He can’t stand it. He didn’t want to be so direct and vulgar, but you’re not moaning enough. You’re not squirming enough. Not making enough of those faces he loves to see.

His hand slides down your stomach and disappears into your underwear. You gasp and stiffen when you feel his fingers brush you, and wide eyes meet his blue ones in the mirror.

“Tell me no.” He whispers, his breath fluttering your hair. His heart thuds so hard in his chest he fears you might feel it. He’s challenging you, but deep on the inside he’s afraid he’s pushing it. He almost wants you to push him away and smack some sense into him.

But you don’t. You just maintain eye contact with him and slowly shake your head.

“Fuck.” He breathes, low and drawn out in your ear as his hand cups your mound and his thumb brushes over your clit.

Your reaction sends waves of satisfaction through him, and for a moment it’s enough to numb the feelings of self-loathing and jealousy. You jerk against him, letting out the sweetest moan as your face twists into one of those expressions he loves so much. His arm muscles twitch, holding you a little harder to keep you still and anchored to him, unable to bear the idea of you even having a millimeter of skin not touching him.

“How are you already wet, baby?” He hums in your ear, almost not sure how to feel about it. Was it him? Idiot, of course it was. But… you didn’t like that guy at all… did you? That guy didn’t turn you on, even a little bit, did he?

With all his compliments and flattering language and-

He grunts again, this time a more aggressive, irritated sound. He shoves his nose against your ear, breathing heavily into it. Your spine twists in his hard grip.

“It’s me. I made you like that. Didn’t I, hm?” He feels stupid. He know’s he’s out of his head with even thinking this, and he feels so guilty. He almost feels like he’s not even worthy to be touching you.

Almost.

“Tell me baby.” He growls into your ear.

“Y-yes, Leon. Wh-“ You don’t even know how to react. You’re sort of lost on what’s going on. Why he’s suddenly like this out of the blue. Who else would do this to you?

“Damn right I did.” He stuffs two fingers into you, loving the sharp little cry you make and the way your body snaps in his arms. He tightens his grip and brings you back against his chest.

“Leon, what the hell!?” You cry out, but it comes out on more of breath of ecstasy than any real sort of scolding. What the hell has gotten into him?

“Don’t question it, baby. Just tell me how good it feels.”

You moan again.

“That’s right. Just like that.”

He grunts in frustration as he watches you in the mirror. As he watches the way his hand moves underneath your panties and how he can’t see anything with the fabric in the way. He pulls his hands out just long enough to tug the cotton down off your legs and watch them slide down around your ankles. Then he’s plunging the two fingers back inside you.

Your back curves against his chest and he catches you, wrapping his free arm around your chest, pinning your arms with it, and dragging his nose and lips up the side of your face.

“That’s it.” He praises as he closes his eyes for a minute, just listening to you and breathing you in. He opens them to look back in the reflection and watch his fingers slide in and out of your twitching channel. He watches with tightening jeans how willingly you take his fingers.

He feels a pang of insecurity. He knows his brain is feeding him lies, but he thinks about how easy you are for him. Would you be easy for someone else?

That’s stupid, Leon. You idiot. He scolds himself for having the intrusive thought. He immediatly feels horrible for even thinking it. He knows you’re not that kind of girl. He remembers how hard it was to get you to open up to him when you guys first started exploring intimacy together.

That coaxes a sense of pride into his chest. How willingly you give yourself to him. No other guy could be as lucky. No other guy would ever have this. Such a pretty girl, moaning and clenching on his fingers. His pretty girl.

“Look at you, dripping down those pretty legs.” He breathes in your ear, making you shudder. He pulls his fingers out with a little whimper from you.

“Can’t let it go to waste, can we?”

He licks his fingers clean.

He spins you around and sinks down to his knees, letting your back hit the cold surface of the mirror. You writhe and pant against it as he throws a leg over his shoulder and licks up all the trickles of nectar down the inside of your thighs, making his way centerward. He nibbles on the soft skin as he goes, making you gasp and choke and shudder, over and over again.

He places a confident, flat tongue against you and licks the entire surface of your opening. The tang of your juices slides down his throat, and the noises you make force his eyes closed as he savors taste and sound.

“Leon!”

“Easy, baby. I know it feels good.”

He does it again a second time. Fucking hell, you taste good. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. It makes your insides clench, and you double forward at the intensity, catching yourself with a hand on his shoulder. You grip it, hand fisting into his shirt.

“Mm.” He moans against your heat, sending vibrations through the already swollen and puffy bundle of nerves.

He’s determined. It’s the only revenge he knows how to enact at this point. It’s too bad you’re on the receiving end since you didn’t even do anything wrong. But he knows that you’re not ever gonna actually complain about this later.

He swirls his tongue around your clit, bringing two fingers to prod more gently into you than the first time. He takes his time, gently probing around inside you for that sweet spot. He knows he finds it when you practically melt on him like ice cream.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give me more of that. C’mon.” He pulls away from your puffy clit long enough to murmur that gentle encouragement. He returns to sucking and biting gently on the sensitive nub, as he rubs his fingers encouragingly against the spot inside of you.

If he can’t make you cum with nothing more than his mouth and two fingers, he isn’t a man worthy of the title.

Every breath is a moan from your lips at this point. You feel the tension in your tummy growing tighter, and you’re desperately trying to reach that peak. You focus on his ministrations and his coaxing words, chasing that illusive feeling.

“Leon!” You’re fingers fly to fist into his hair for something to anchor to and feel like you have a little bit of leverage; even if control is just an illusion at this point. But you’re okay with that, you don’t want control.

You want to lose it.

“Please please please please!” You chant quietly under your breath as you focus on the rise. It climbs higher and higher and each breath fills your lungs to bursting as your mouth falls open wider.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me, sweetheart. Come on.”

He can’t take his eyes off your face. He grinds the pads of his fingers down on that sweet spot inside and sucks on your clit with everything he’s got. And he watches you explode.

It’s mind-numbing. Your body jerks hard and suddenly against the mirror and your wails of ecstasy fill the small walk-in like a symphony to his ears. He laps up your release like it’s a fountain of water and he’s a man dying of thirst.

He stimulates you through it until you grow limp against the mirror. He’s on his feet as you pant against the reflection and his mouth is on yours in a blink, forcing your taste into your mouth as he grips your arms tightly.

All the fight has gone out of you anyway, and you feel weightless. You just take it, allowing him to hold you there as long as he wants. You gasp for a deep breath when his lips finally release yours, and slump into his arms.

Fuck. He looks down at you all dazed in his arms, and he immediately feels like such a dick. He does feel a little self-satisfied though as you nuzzle your face into his chest and cling to his body like you need him to stand.

Because you do. It’s all thanks to him and he feels good.

“I’m so sorry baby.” He murmurs in your ear as he gathers you up in his arms, because he knows it’s not over. He can’t just leave it here, much as he knows in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be so pushy and cruel. But he just can’t help it.

He carries you over to your guys’ bed, and lays you down more gently on it. His clothes are abandoned on the bedroom floor and as he sheds the remainder of yours off you, he kisses your forehead.

Your hands slide gently up over his arms, and it makes him feel so strong and powerful, and desired.

“You want me?” He whispers softly against your lips.

“Mhm.” You nod your head against the pillow as he positions himself over you.

“Spread them a little wider for me then, baby.” His hand grips your thigh.

You obey and he settles between your legs. You feel his tip brush against your sensitive folds and you jump.

“Shhhhh…” He hushes, his hand coming down to grip your jaw and run his thumb over your cheek. He takes your bottom lip between his in a deep but gentle kiss, and holds you there as he slides himself in.

You gasp into the kiss, twitching and sucking in over-sensitive breaths through your nose as he takes it inch by inch. Your toes curl, and your nails dig into his biceps. When he bottoms out, he finally releases your lips, letting you pant beneath him and catch your breath and your bearings.

“Mm… nn-… Leon.” You breathe, your tongue feeling thick and your head feeling numb. All you can do is breathe heavy and look up at him through pleasure-lidded eyes.

It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos as he gradually starts to move. He leans down to kiss your lips again, to leave them all over your cheeks and jaw.

“Tell me how you want it.” He rumbles against your skin.

“I don’t—“ Your head lulls back and forth on the pillow as breathing takes precedence over words. “—I don’t care. Jus’… it jus’ feels so good.”

God, he could explode right now. You feel him twitch inside you when you give him free rein to do what he needs to do.

His hips speed up a few notches. Skin slaps against skin as he pushes your legs open wider to an intense moan from you. Then he increases the harshness of his thrusts, slamming into you until he feels like it’s a rhythm that matches his frustration with every bit of himself that’s afraid of another man taking you away from him.

He nips your kiss swollen lip.

“You’re my baby.” He breathes.

“Your baby.” You echo, eyes as starry as your brain feels. Not a thought in your head except how he feels inside you.

“Mhm. Fuck��� yes you are, aren’t you? My good girl.”

“Your good girl.” Your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “For nobody else.”

The tightness in his chest soothes a little bit, the tension he’d been carrying pushing out through his lungs. He watches as you succumb a second time, crying out his name as you shake underneath him and cling to him like he’s your anchor.

He doesn’t even mind the scratch marks. God knows, he loves them.

A semblance of peace washes over him, and he almost doesn’t even care about the release when it washes over him too, a moment later.

He got the release he was looking for.

[no1blacksapphirefan]

Hello there! I love the work you do and hope that you have a great day! My request is for your Self-Aware Cookie Run au.

The reader somehow is transported into the game, meaning they can finally interact with everyone. There is just one drawback, their body is now a replica of the cookie that appears in the guild domain. (Ex: They chose Shadow Milk in the guild domain and now they have the same body as him.) I imagine some cookies have fun with this, using it as opportunity to pull some pranks or maybe even tease them a bit if the cookie the reader chose was their favorite. Maybe even try on costumes that were made for that cookie?

Also I would like Red Velvet and Capsaicin to be included in this ask please?

Hihii!! I hope you're having a good day too :D Glad you like my work hehe, your idea is very silly and I hope you enjoy

Red Velvet He was just looking for his cute lil cake hounds and now he's face to face with...himself?? Huh, when did this happen...AND WHY DOES HIS CAKE HOUNDS LIKE THIS CLONE OF HIM MORE?? He gently asks them to come back, what if you're some evil entity that can change form!! He can't let them be hur-...what's that Chiffon?...Wait what-

You're not sure how he understood the dog, if he actually did and it was just a "cooler"/funnier way to show that he knows but he points at you and questions if your truly their so called "God" Wow that's weird to hear out of someones mouth, you didn't know the cookies saw you as their God? You think? All you had to do was say you're name and he just stands there in shock. He wanted to meet you but like this??...Wow...And you look like him too...he gets a bit flustered when you explain why you look like him, due to the guild. But he's also happy, and Chiffon and the other Cake Hounds like you so, win-win?

Capsaicin He got so confused at first, looking you up and down. You know that TV trope where the character acts like it's a mirror? Holding up one arm and the "clone" (in this case you) holds up the other. I see him doing that. He has a feeling he knows you, and not the fact that it's just...well him staring back. But he feels like your just a separate person.

When you tell him he's so happy, quickly hugging you tight. He wanted to meet you for so long!! He does question why you look like him, so you explain that you seem to just be a "copy" of whoever you had as your avatar in guild. Oh he's so honoured, out of all the cookies you chose him to be and walk around in, in your guild? Definitely tries to convince you to pull some pranks on the others.

Shadow Milk Imagine your dressed as the Sage of Truth though. Like he's walking around, humming to himself then he suddenly sees an alternate version of himself. What?? How, is he dreaming? Must be an illusion, he flies over and pokes you, just to see if you're real before pinching himself...so you're real and he's not dreaming, then why is he--

When you spoke out to him he came to realise who you were, let's just say your voice stayed the same. He...isn't sure what to think. Like, don't get me wrong, he loves seeing you here now and to think that you chose him to, in better words. Represent yourself in your guild is making him feel butterflies but...he's staring at this version of himself, this version who had accepted what he had not...it was strange and he didn’t know what to think. It takes him a bit to get used too, he still wants to hang around you but it may take a bit to ignore the fact you looked like what he could’ve been in another universe.

((He defo convinces you to pull pranks on other cookies though))

Pure Vanilla Oh? Oh my, he stares at you for a bit, he had thought he heard your voice when he was taking a walk but now he just sees himself. Calmly picking up flowers. When this version of him turns around and spots him, you nearly had a heart attack, you didn't think you'd meet him. You quickly explain and all he can do is laugh gently, lending a hand out and asks if you'd walk with him.

This is quite the discovery though, he always wanted to meet you in "person" (...cookieson?) and imagined either him getting out of the screen or seeing you as a cookie like they were, but you were just a clone of him in better terms. He's very happy to hear the reason seemed to be that you used him to represent yourself in your little guild. He's so honoured.

Black Pearl Hear me out, just like Shadow Milk. Instead of looking like Black Pearl, you looked like White Pearl. Her more...tranquil side, when she was happier. You just wanted to test out swimming, it's a new body after all and one that can swim when you were grabbed by her. At first she thought you were disturbing the tranquil of her seas but then she sees...her past self? She grows...disturbed seeing it and lets you go.

You try to tell her who you are, which she does listen but she can't help but flee quickly. Out of all the cookie you had to be when you came here, did it have to be her? She comes finds you eventually, despite her initial reaction, she's quick to help you swim around. She still feels...off seeing her past self but she knows it's not her. That "her" has long gone. It's only you know, and to be honest. She is honoured you had used her to represent yourself in the guild.

[creatingblackcharacters]

I saw your tags about Stephen Kings portrayal of Black characters and I gotta say, my mom and I have been reading a few books by him and are SHOCKED at how much he loves to throw around the n word and how there’s always some uneducated drawl in their speech. Very disheartening after years of being fans of his but better late than never to see the truth. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Yeah.... Yeah 😅 like I do enjoy some of Stephen King's books (Shawshank and The Green Mile remain some of my favorite stories), but there is a pattern of how he treats his Black characters and it's not very good! Like it would be a lie to say they don't serve important roles, but... Very much plot devices and fake mysticality and magical negroes meant to serve and deliver white characters' stories. Plus, his desire to incorporate racism hits a point where you're like... Do you actually understand what you're writing or do you just think saying the n word is the only way to express antiblack racism?

He's a great example of how if you think the mere presence of Black people counts as caring about representation, you'd think he's a great person who cares about diversity, but if you actually understand what's going on, you're like 🥴

[karikarasuno]

part nine | part ten | part eleven

law is currently having a hard time. literally. he's straining against his jeans and he's conflicted by the feeling. all you're doing is snooping around his childhood bedroom. excitedly and unabashedly curious. one of his favorite versions of you. right beside bratty and teasing.

when he brought up attending a bbq at his parents this weekend you were all for it. you even bought a dress. a very pretty one. one that's hem is inching up the back of your thighs as you bend over to inspect a lego pirate ship he made when he was twelve.

"i don't think i've ever met both a delinquent and a nerd," you say, spinning on the balls of your feet to face him.

"what? i can't have hobbies," he shrugs from his seat on the edge of his bed. he doesn't remember it being so small.

"if you call drug dealing and building lego sets normal preteen hobbies, then yes, of course you can," you say with a sneaky little smile. you turn away from him again and your dress twirls around your thighs. the fabric brushes the back of them in a way that his fingertips usually do. so yeah, law is having a rather hard time.

"but i think this is my favorite." your palms are pressed against his dresser as you look over a blossoming bonsai tree he built for his mom for mother's day when he was fifteen.

"those flowers actually come off and you can replace it with the leaves," he explains. you lean over further. one more inch and he'll be able to see your ass. which he wouldn't necessarily mind except you're at his parents' house.

you cross your ankles, the heels you chose to wear making your legs seem longer as you rub one foot down your calf. well now he thinks you're trying to seduce him. hell, you'll just have to be quiet then.

"so what else-" he doesn't give you the chance to finish. he slides his hands onto your hips and squeezes.

"what are you doing?" you whisper, clearly he caught you by surprise.

"what do you think?" he bends forward sticking his nose in your hair, just behind your ear. law inhales the scent of your perfume. which is a bad idea if he had any hopes of restraining himself. your sigh makes it even more difficult to stop.

"law," you whine and his grip tightens. "your parents are downstairs."

"yeah outside. on the patio," he clarifies, starting to kiss your neck. you push your ass against him to try and wiggle away, but he uses his hips to pin you in place. "and you can be quiet, can't you?"

his hand slips between your thighs. gently at first. with enough tentativeness to make sure you don't want him to stop. and you don't because your legs inch apart, giving his fingers more room to explore. he smiles into your shoulder. that was easier than he thought it would be.

"ok," you nod and he feels you raise your head. when he meets your gaze through the mirror above his dresser he can tell how riled up you already are. your cheeks are clearly burning. your eyes are half-lidded. and you can only seem to breathe through your mouth. "but we have to be quick."

"i can do that." his fingers press against you over your panties and your thighs rub together from that brief touch. there's really no time to waste and you prove that when your fingers wrap around his wrist and push him further between your legs.

he's not surprised to find that you're wet already. he's learned which buttons of yours are easiest to push. which ones to turn on. and you make that exceptionally simple when you take his fingers and use them to slip your underwear to the side.

"i didn't expect you to be so eager," he says, a breathy chuckle following his words as he slips two fingers between your folds. there's no doubt in his mind now that you were definitely trying to seduce him in some way. not when you're so ready for him. he wonders what he did to rile you up this much. wonders how he can do it again for next time.

your head falls back onto his shoulder as you meet his eyes through the mirror. you're struggling to come up with something to say when he slides those two fingers inside of you and curves them. just the way you like. but he can see how your mind is working. your lips part, "you-"

he cuts you off when he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back inside. a little more forceful this time. with enough strength that has you dripping into his palm. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, biting down on it to keep the moan from escaping your chest. he stares as your lip blossoms red. refraining from grinding his erection into your ass when you squeeze around his fingers.

"we shouldn't," you gasp, your eyes blinking closed when he rubs a tight circle against your g-spot.

"but you're so close," he counters. his lips find the shell of your ear and as his exhale breezes down your skin you shudder in his arms.

"that's the problem," you say through rough vocal cords. "you're making it hard to be quiet."

he removes his fingers and you sigh as your knees buckle slightly and you sag onto his dresser. but he doesn't give you much time to relax. he undoes his jeans, shoving them down enough to free himself. he gathers your dress and shoves it out of the way. he's not even really thinking straight anymore. he's leaking, red, and his dick is damn near painful from how hard he is.

maybe later, after he comes, he'll revisit why exactly he's so turned on right now. but you're whimpering when he slips between your thighs. sighing when his head nudges your entrance.

law's hand rises to cup your throat. he drags it over your chin until his palm is covering your mouth. you squirm the entire time. your own hands balling into fists on the surface of the dresser.

"is this better?" he whispers. but obviously you can't reply. you don't really need to say anything, anyway. your hips push against him and it forces him inside. his head drops and he bites your shoulder. a whine squeaks up your throat but is muffled by his hand. he needs to make this fast. not that that'll be an issue for him. he just needs to make sure you get off first.

his fingers are on your clit as soon as he's flush against you. he's methodical with the way he circles your clit, gathering as much of your slick as he can to make it easier.

your nails scrape at wood and you start meeting his thrusts with small movements of your own. his dresser thumps against the wall lightly. the mirror jostles in place as he fucks you into the edge of the furniture. he can't take his eyes off of you. it's impossible. your eyes water and your mascara smudges across your water line.

small, short noises escape your mouth between the gaps in his fingers. and his gut twists and tightens as you pulse erratically around him. sweat drips down the curve of his spine. inadvertently, his grip on your face tightens. a groan vibrates from your chest and into his palm. his thrusts harshen and something drops low and molten in his stomach.

it's sudden. you clamp around him violently and your back bows away from him. your hand slips across the surface of the dresser and accidentally knocks over the bonsai tree. and in some strange stroke of luck and with reflexes he forgets he possesses he catches the set before it can fall off the dresser and break apart against the hardwood floor. he barely manages to place it back down before his muscles tighten and he pulls out. your thighs squeeze around his cock when he no longer fills you. and he's coming all over the plush, moist skin.

he tries to swallow down the grunt that threatens to spill from his lips, but he's not sure if he can really contain it as his head grows fuzzy and all he can think about is the mess he just made. the mess you helped him make.

you grab his wrist and push his hand away from your mouth. the heaviest exhale falls from your lips as you both try to regain composure.

"i can't believe we just did that," you chuckle and shake your head. your thighs tremble slightly when you shift on your heels and he has to plant his hands on your hips to keep you from toppling over.

"that was your doing." he flinches when he pulls his sensitive cock from between your legs. the cool air that meets his skin makes him hiss.

"you are not blaming me for this," you say, glaring at him through the mirror. "you pounced."

"i don't pounce," law argues, tucking himself gingerly into his pants.

"well there's a first time for everything," you respond, cringing when your legs smear together when you attempt to move your panties back into place.

"let me grab you something to clean up." he smiles to himself at the sight. some weird sort of satisfaction festers in his chest. like a reclamation.

"that would be nice."

****

after he successfully cleans you up, you and law head back downstairs. you’re giddy. there’s a spring in your step. and he can’t help but notice the way your eyes continue glancing his way. with something knowing in them. something roguish. almost makes him wanna take you back upstairs.

“hi!” you say cheerily as you stroll into the kitchen. his sister is standing by the island with a tray of veggies in front of her. it takes her a second to meet your eyes. and then it takes her another to greet you in return.

“hey,” lami says, and she shuffles a little in place before averting her gaze back to the tray in front of her.

“come try this,” his mom says to you, sticking her head inside to grab your attention. you spin on your heels to face her. excitement again rushes through you. there’s something just so endearing about it. he really is in such a mood and he needs to calm down. he just had his way with you not even twenty minutes ago and he’s already starting up again. surely something is wrong with him today.

“i’ll meet you outside,” you grin up at him, tilting your head up and pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before you skip over to where his parents are waiting for you outside. he watches you go. that might just be his favorite dress now. because every time he registers you in it, he thinks of how good you were for him pressed against that dresser. his mind wanders to whatever positions he can sneak you into when something small and hard bounces off his temple.

"ow," he emphasizes, glaring at lami when he looks down at his feet to see a baby carrot rolling away.

"you're gross," she says, lips frowning in disgust.

"what did i do?" he's offended.

"you know, dad almost went up there to get you," she starts, placing her hand on her hip as her frown deepens.

"oh," law nods, biting down on his tongue to keep his laugh at bay. it's not funny.

"yeah, so you're welcome." she grips the tray and yanks it off the counter, but not before grabbing a celery stick and launching it at him. "gross."

"stop wasting food," he chastises, bending down to pick up the celery rolling away from his shoe.

"and you don't have sex with your freakin' girlfriend within earshot of your entire family," she scolds him, stomping away from him loudly.

he chuckles. he can't even bring himself to feel bad. "it wasn't technically within earshot," he mutters.

she whips around when she has one foot out the door, "gross!"

[xechu]

Better Than Your Ex, Hotter Than Your Next - C. Kamo (One-shot)

pairing: mechanic!choso kamo x fem!reader

wc: 7.3k

cw/tags: please read my blog rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, swearing, mature themes, explicit sexual content, smut, brief mention of crime, fluff, crack, slice of life

summary: who would have known that your meet cute all began with slashing the wrong guy's tires.

a/n: An unexpected spin-off, but I had a lot of fun with it! This is based off of my cmh au but focused on Choso instead. Definitely tried something new with this one-shot here, going for a chaotic-awkward-unhinged-sprinkle of soft vibe. I highly recommend reading what I currently have for that au for some additional context, but this works as a standalone as well. Timeline-wise, this happens two weeks before Warm on a Cold Night. You can also check out some of my character notes on Choso here. Thank you for reading! x

The garage has always been pure chaos, and in the most rowdy testosterone-filled way possible. But Choso wouldn't have it any other way. The only touch of feminine energy in this establishment was when Jin's wife, Kaori, would come by. Otherwise, it would have been Sukuna’s girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend—his ass got dumped last year (completely his fault, by the way), and he’s still in mourning.

At this point, Choso is pretty sure Sukuna has gone full monk, enduring the trials of dry spell. He'd even quit smoking and drinking—definitely onto the path of nirvana.

The break-up was particularly nasty from what he remembered, but he still keeps a picture of her at his workbench to this day. And he's heard Baby Come Back by Player blasting from Sukuna's earbuds more times than he can remember.

It’s…sad, to see his mentor fall so far from grace. Choso is pretty confident that the man has gone off to the deep end. At this rate, if she doesn’t come back, he’s actually going to shave his head and move to a monastery in the mountains.

"Cho!” Jin called out from upstairs, peeking his head out from the office, "Think you can man the front desk for a bit? I got a business call."

Choso waved him off and made his way to the front desk.

Things have been laid-back lately. There's two more weeks before Christmas, and that's usually when garages see a dip in activities. Summer, on the other hand, was around the clock hell.

Choso leaned into the chair and took out his phone, which, quite frankly, needed to be replaced—a shattered-beyond-recognition iPhone 7. But it still made calls and sent texts, so it was good enough. Yeah, he knows—he's long overdue for an upgrade. But it’s like how some girls procrastinate on getting their oil changed. Same thing.

Ah. This was a nice break.

He could hear Sukuna tinkering with a car at the back, followed by a loud snap, and a few choice words. Man was definitely having the worst day of his life...for the past 368 days.

“Everything good—?”

The front door swings open and a frosty chill rushes in.

Oh, great—it’s Nancy. A long-time customer.

“Hey, Nance,” Choso greeted. He wasn’t much of a talker by nature, but after a few years at the garage he’s picked up more social skills. He's become quite fluent in customer service banter.

“Hiiii Cho!! How are ya?” Nancy was practically squealing, as she dusted off the light snow on her jacket.

“I’m good, I’m good. How are you? How are the kids?”

“Good! Brandon is coming back from college for the holidays, and Jeremy's at home already. The boys and I are going to have such a great time this year. Better than being with their father—”

“Oh, that’s nice—whatcha got there?” Choso smoothly interjected, it completely flew over her head that he cut her off intentionally. He wasn’t going to let her talk his ears off about her ex-husband again, he’s already made that mistake five times, and the story was always the exact same. It’s quite frankly a talent—how she doesn’t miss a beat.

“Ah! Just a small Christmas gift for my favorite group of boys! I’m a boy mom after all!” Nancy laughs a little too loud.

Right. Everyone knew it was really for Jin.

For a while now, Nancy has a not-so-lowkey crush on him. Thankfully, Kaori hasn’t crossed paths with her yet. And thankfully, Jin was in that business call, but Choso also wouldn’t put it past him that he saw her on the surveillance cams upstairs and decided to lay low.

“Aw, you’re sweet—thanks, Nance.” Nailed the fake sincerity.

Choso takes the box of chocolates from her hands.

Yep. Definitely for Jin. Nobody else ate 90% dark chocolate with orange flavored filling.

Nancy wasn’t the only one who’s got the hots for Jin, there were a few of them fangirls. Word has it that Jin's a “total DILF”. Choso doesn’t see the vision, but he supposes the vision isn’t for him to see. If anything, he thought Sukuna’s ex-friend Toji was more of a DILF. He’s only seen the guy once before, but it was enough to know that the man has a plethora of issues…and probably diseases. So he would advise anyone against actually fucking Toji.

"Awfully quiet today, just you here?" Nancy's eyes scanned around the shop.

More like was Jin here.

"Mhm, just me. Jin's dealing with stuff, gonna take a while. And well, Sukuna is..."

"Still hung up, huh?" She quietly whispers with a look of sympathy in her eyes.

Choso slowly nods. Apart from her weird crush on Jin, making her kids her entire personality, and throwing shade at her ex-husband every chance she gets, Choso believes she's still a nice lady deep down…though she probably would benefit from seeing a therapist.

"I understand what he's going through. You know, when Edward and I divorced—"

"You're fucking shitting me!" Sukuna yells from the garage.

Poor Nancy looked like she was about to have a heart attack. But for Choso, this was a typical Thursday afternoon.

Sukuna storms out from the garage and towards the front desk as he grabs his jacket.

"Oh, hey Nance," Sukuna muttered, and marched out the door before she could even say a word.

Choso looks at her and gives an awkward shrug, "Sorry about that. He's...you know."

Nancy nods, but it was clear she was a bit shaken up. She has a bit of a frail heart.

"G-Guess I should get going now," she nervously chuckled, "I should get the house ready before Brandon comes back."

"Yeah, I'll tell Jin you dropped by," Choso said, feeling a bit apologetic that she had to witness Sukuna's outburst.

"Thanks, Choso," her usual smile slowly returning.

"See ya."

---

Finally, peace was restored.

Choso guesses that he has about thirty minutes of relaxation.

Perhaps it was because the holiday spirit is making him a tad sentimental. Or maybe because he's finally found a steady footing in his life with his career. But he caught himself thinking lately: when would he find a girl that sweeps him off his feet?

Sure, he's gone on a few Tinder dates and had his share of casual hookups, but it wasn't satisfying.

As he’s scrolling, numerous ads of hot single women in your area pop up on his feed. Tempting, but he’s pretty sure that it was a greasy man on the other side of the screen, or some swindler trying to get you to buy crypto for them.

Choso wasn't much of a conspiracist, but he does believe that the phones are listening in on you—and not just your voice, but your thoughts via wavelengths and shit. Don’t ask him to get into specifics though, he’s not a science guy. It’s just a theory that hasn’t been proven yet. But how else do the ads always seem to know when he was feeling lonely?

Sigh. This sucked.

Jin found his dream girl. Sukuna fumbled his—but at least he got a taste of what it was like to be with someone who you were head over heels about.

When was it his turn? Sans the fumbling, of course.

Then suddenly, the front door bursts open. And that was when you came rolling through those doors like a storm, dressed in black from head to toe.

At that moment, Choso's breath hitched, his heart raced, and heat rose to his ears. He was absolutely certain that cupid didn't just shoot an arrow, he shot a whole fucking bullet through his chest.

---

"Hi," you said, as you dusted off the snow on your coat and removed your ski mask.

"H-Hey," Choso stammered. Where was his customer service fluency when he needed it?

"Can I...help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to turn myself in—oh, crap," you noticed you were still holding the pocket knife in your hand, and quickly tucked it away in your jacket pocket. You wouldn't want there to be a misunderstanding now, but you were pretty sure it was a little too late for that.

"Um, this isn't the police station."

"Oh, I know," you said as you awkwardly walked towards the front desk.

Holy shit, you were the cutest girl he had ever seen.

"I..." you cleared your throat, "...accidentally slashed someone's tires outside."

Okay, so you were maybe a little off the rails. But a touch of crazy was totally his guilty pleasure.

"You what?"

"Yeah, I accidentally slashed someone's tires. But I'm here to pay for it, I swear!" You smiled nervously, but he could see the guilt in your eyes.

Choso didn't even know how to respond to that.

He was pretty sure that slashing tires were illegal. Does he call the cops? It should be fine if you're willing to pay for it, right? What do they call that in legal terms? A settlement, right. No need to give the love of his life cute girl a criminal record.

But before Choso could figure out what to do, you start sobbing hysterically.

So much for a slow Thursday afternoon.

"H-Hey! There's no need to cry over it, you said you were gonna pay, right?"

"Y-Yeah, I want to pay, h-honest!" You choked.

Clearly, this was your first rodeo in crime committing.

"Why don't we go out and you show me which car you, er, slashed. And I'll get you a quote." Choso rubbed the back of his neck, while handing you a tissue.

"Okay," you nodded, still barely able to contain your hysteria.

Choso grabbed his jacket and followed you outside. And of course, the victim of this supposed accidental tire slashing was a black Nissan 240SX—a car he was all too familiar with.

"That's...my car," he sighed in disbelief.

"I-I'm so sorry. I promise, I really didn't mean to. I—"

"It's fine," he says. To be honest, he wasn't even mad. The situation was just too unreal.

Choso slowly surveyed his car, making his round. You stood there, watching him intently, your brows knitted together—nervous with anticipation.

"You really slashed all four of them," he remarked.

"Yeah..."

"Do we know each other from somewhere?"

You shook your head.

You weren't sure if he cared for it or not, but an explanation seemed like the right thing to do.

"I mistook your car for my ex's," you cringed, realizing how stupid and farfetched that sounded, "His and your license plates are almost identical. Exact same make and all. I didn’t realize it was the wrong car until it was too late."

"Ah, what a coincidence."

"I know it’s unbelievable, but I’ll pay for everything! I promise. I just wasn’t thinking straight, and thinking about that asshole just makes me—"

"Hey, I said it’s fine," Choso tried to calm you down, "you don’t owe me your personal story."

"God, I’m just so embarrassed."

"Yeah, I’d be too," he gave a small smile.

There was a brief silence, and then you couldn’t help but let out a light laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Choso wasn't sure why his heart did flips. Actually, he was lying, he knew why, that's because you're confirmed single. Not so sure about the mingling part, but at least he wasn’t pulling a Nancy.

"Well, I’ll get you the quote," he said, as the two of you walked back to the shop, "we can do a settlement."

"Thank you for being so understanding," you quietly said, blush dusting your cheeks.

"Don't mention it," he casually waved you off, "At least it was my car and not a customer's."

---

This was, without a doubt, the most decisive moment of Choso’s life. As he stood behind the front desk and watched you punch in the PIN of your credit card. It was only a matter of time before it went through, he printed the receipt, and then you'll be on your merry way. After that, your paths will never cross again.

Does he ask you? Is it completely strange and unhinged? But then again, after what had just transpired, he doesn't even know the meaning of unhinged anymore. You literally came in ski mask and all, with a knife, and his first reaction was to fall in love and help you get away with a crime.

Settlement. It's a settlement.

Choso is quite convinced you're no criminal, and you had your crocodile tears and anxiety-fueled word vomit to prove it. Just a temporary lapse in judgment, happens to the best of everyone.

Mustering the courage he had, he takes a deep breath, "Go out with—"

"What the fuck happened to your car, Cho?!" Sukuna busted through the door.

Of course. Because why not have the front door blast open again today.

"Um—" you were about to confess to your crime again and relive the shame.

"I know," Choso said calmly to Sukuna, "taking care of it."

"Who the hell did you piss off?"

"No one. It was an accident."

"Accident? They were four tires in deep," Sukuna scowled.

Choso clears his throat, and makes a tiny gesture with his head—nudging to your direction. Sukuna momentarily froze, just as the card machine let out a loud skrrr-rr-rrr and printed the receipt. Clocking the situation—and the sheer awkwardness he had just created—he cleared his throat and excused himself back to the garage.

"...Anyway, I’ll put on new tires for you. I'm sure we got fresh ones laying around."

"Thanks," Choso nodded, and turns to you, "Don't worry. We've settled it. I won't call the cops or anything."

"I appreciate it, and again, I'm sor—"

"Go out with me?"

He did it. He actually did it. Albeit, not the smooth operator he wanted to be, but there's no turning back now.

---

They say to forgive and to forget, but that's the dumbest thing you've ever heard. Forgiveness, sometimes—sure. But forget? Absolutely not. Unless you get hit by a truck and end up getting amnesia.

In the case of your sorry excuse of an ex-boyfriend, he deserved neither your forgiveness nor your...forgetfulness. How does one even forget the image of your ex wedged between the legs of your best friend and rabidly dicking her down? You can't. No one can forget that imagery.

Every day you pray for his downfall, and quite frankly, for his dick to fall.

And it was like your prayer was somewhat answered when you saw his car sitting out at a garage.

He was about to get his comeuppance.

There was always a part of you that was a bit reckless, and going through the motions of this break-up really brought that side out of you. You were done playing nice, and now, you were going to lay it down on that asshole.

You park your car to the side of a road across from the garage, and flip off the engine. Sitting in the driver seat, you carefully assess the area. It was rather empty except for two other cars, but then again, most garages were quiet during this time of year.

This was it. You were going to go through with it. You take out your ski mask and switch knife from the passenger's compartment. Yes, you weren’t oblivious to how suspicious that looked, but you had your reasoning. The knife was for your protection, and the ski mask—well, your ex-boyfriend was going to bring you to a ski resort this year but clearly that was no longer happening. You were going to return it, the price tag was still on there—but screw it, the sports store could keep the forty-dollars.

This was by all accounts completely illegal, and it would be your first time committing a crime, but he deserved it. If anything, cheating should be illegal. What's a little tire slashing going to do? At least you could compensate for that. How does one compensate for a broken heart, after they slash it all up? Exactly.

You rip the price tag off and put on the ski mask, checking to see how you looked in the rearview mirror: ridiculous.

Oh, right. Your nearly forgot to put on some lip gloss. It was one of those things that gave you confidence, and surely, you needed it to commit your first illegal activity.

With a deep breath you get out of your car and stealthily crouch-speed-walk towards his car. Kneeling beside a tire, your heart began to race, and hands began sweating.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Something didn't feel quite...right.

You give yourself a few slaps. It's too late to turn back now, you were literally right here—crouched beside his car. It's not like he was thinking with his head either when he decided to cheat.

Ironically, it was your ex-boyfriend that told you that slashing tires was an art form. You have to puncture it a certain way, and make sure you're not standing right in front of the puncture hole, or you could get hurt from the air pressure.

You brace yourself, and with your full might you sunk the knife into the tire.

God, it felt so damn good.

Watching the car slowly sink as the tires deflate, a thought came into your mind: you could absolutely do this for a living. Maybe start a side gig and get people to hire you to slash up scummy ex's tires. Consider it a service to the community—a voice for the voiceless.

As you stood up to revel in your masterpiece, your euphoria quickly turned to sheer horror.

In your fit of rage, you’d mistaken the 'U' on this person's license plate for a 'V'.

This was not your ex’s car.

The realization hit you like a brick. You felt dizzy. You might actually throw up and pass out all at the same time. Not only had you just violated the hell out of an innocent person’s tires, but your ex? He got away again. You could practically hear him snickering. Whoever said God didn't play favorites was an absolute liar. Because your ex was clearly a favored child, bestowed upon a divine gift of cosmic plot armor.

You were screwed. Royally screwed.

…Or so you thought.

Because in a shocking plot twist—you’re now being asked on a date.

By the very man whose tires you just stabbed.

"Go out with me?" Choso asked.

You blinked a few times, standing by the front desk completely stupefied.

Did you mishear? No, he said it quite clearly. He asked you to go out with him.

Was he desperate or completely unhinged? Perhaps both?

"But I literally just slashed your tires."

"But it was an accident."

Maybe a little suggestible too.

"Um, you don't think that's kind of—I don't know—red flag of me?"

"So...is that a yes, or no?"

"Yes," you replied without missing a beat.

Fuck it. He was ridiculously hot anyway.

You had noticed it the moment you saw him, there was an aura of dark mystery that surrounded him, which quite frankly, would have made you ache under normal circumstances.

And the way he defended your honor was the cherry on top. Whether he did it intentionally or not—it was super sexy.

So yes, a thousand times, fucking yes.

---

Is this what cloud nine feels like?

Because Choso couldn't believe that you actually said yes. He watched as you left the shop and stared at his phone for a good minute, letting reality sink in.

He's pretty sure this felt more surreal than finding out what happened to his car. And he knew you were special when you weren't deterred by the state of his phone, they way you plucked it out of his hand and typed in your number:

Y/N ����🔪 (XXX)-XXX-XXXX

Yeah, you were definitely the one.

"I can't believe you asked out your tire slasher," Sukuna said casually, as he leaned by the door frame that connected the garage to the front desk.

"She's cute," Choso murmured.

"And kinda crazy."

"I'm sure you could relate."

Sukuna lets out a small 'tch', but Choso could see the corner of his mentor's lips ever so slightly lift.

Atta big guy, at least he didn't forget how to smile.

"Thanks, Cho. The call went on longer than I expected—" Jin let out a deep sigh, as he made his way down the stairs, "Did I miss something?"

Ok, so he wasn't hiding from Nancy after all.

"A whole lot. Cho got himself a date," Sukuna said. There was a slight underlayer of pride in his voice that didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh?" Jin grinned, "When did that happen?"

…

Men, too, enjoyed their share of gossip and tea, they’re just better at hiding their eagerness and enthusiasm about it. But if given the chance to partake in such discovery and sharing of 'information', they will certainly indulge. Which is how Choso found himself sandwiched between Sukuna and Jin. The three of them were upstairs in the office, huddled in front of a tiny Dell monitor from the early 2000’s, which was solely used for the garage's surveillance.

"Can you zoom in on her car?" Jin asked.

"Can't. Anymore and she'll look like a Minecraft character," Choso shook his head, he was the one in charge of manning the computer.

"What is she even doing?" Sukuna squinted, he had to put on his glasses for this—that's how you know he means business.

"Is she putting on...lipstick?" Sukuna asked, squinting closer.

"I think so," Jin said, adjusting his glasses. "Kaori does that too before we leave the car."

"Except she’s not leaving the car to go have brunch with the girls. She’s committing a felony."

The three of them focused intently on the surveillance recording like studious first row college students. Witnessing how you left the car, then not-so-stealthily fumbling your way to Choso's car, slapping yourself, plunging your knife into the wheels, rewinding, plunging your knife into the wheels, the exact moment of your horrific realization, and then turning yourself in immediately after.

By the end of the surveillance review, Sukuna was practically howling. At least this whole debacle seemed to lift his spirits up, even if it’ll only be temporarily.

"How were you not even alarmed when she came in with a ski mask and knife in hand?" Jin leaned back in his office chair, clearly amused.

Choso shrugged, "Gut feeling."

"Impressive,” Sukuna lets out a content groan as he got up and stretched, getting ready to head back downstairs, “Maybe you should stick to being a mechanic though."

"We'll save a recording for you, Cho. In case—you know, the two of you ever get married. It'll be a nice trip down memory lane," Jin sipped from his coffee, as if he wasn't lowkey egging him on.

"We'll see how the date goes first," Choso muttered, but the slight heat in his face was enough for anyone to tell that he's already down bad.

---

According to many, flowers on the first date was basic etiquette, but in Choso’s mind flowers were kind of…dumb. They cost a fortune only to wither in a week, and pollen allergies were also quite common—so it seems a little risky. He wasn’t even sure what to believe. Some girls love it, while others would roll their eyes and say that it’s presumptuous for men to think that all girls would be swooned by flowers. Uncreative. Unimaginative. Thoughtless. Basic.

So he compromised and got you a succulent.

Still a plant, still pretty (he thinks), and could actually last. He took it a step further and even picked out a pot for you—though he wasn’t sure if it was your style. It was a pastel green pot, in a shape of a cute cartoonish frog. He thought the green matched with the, well, green. Color coordination was a bit of a learning curve for Choso, he was an all-black and chrome kind of guy. Some call it goth, or emo, but he prefers no labels. Still, E for effort—or maybe endgame?

Surprisingly, you said yes to him picking you up. Which is how he found himself waiting in his car, at the front of your apartment. As he stared into the beady eyes of his cartoon friend aka ‘Phrog’, he was starting to have second thoughts. Because why did he kinda want this for himself? Him and Phrog had developed a nice rapport while driving over to your place.

Maybe he could just put it in the trunk, and then pay for dinner. Just dinner is good, right?

Wrong. He had principles.

You were supposed to get both Phrog and dinner, so it’d be utterly wrong for him to scam you out of your plant.

Lost in his own thoughts of first date ethics, he doesn’t notice you coming out of the building until the passenger door opens.

"Hi," you smiled as you dipped your head in, "thank you for picking me up."

The man was too stunned to speak.

Thankfully, you could not hear the obscene thoughts in Choso’s head. Because how do you manage to look both so sexy and cute at the same time?

"Any time," he clears his throat.

You slid into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt, completely oblivious to the fact that your date was on the verge of malfunctioning. The car filling up with the sweet scent of your perfume was driving him insane.

"What’s this?"

"Oh, yeah," Choso hands over Phrog to you (time to say goodbye he guesses), "it’s for you. I just kinda thought you know—"

"It’s adorable! I love it. You’re so thoughtful, Choso," you gushed, "We should name it Phrog—with a PH!"

Definitely soulmates, twin flame, or whatever they called it. The two of you practically share the same brain cell.

As the two of you head to a fancy restaurant, you engage in small but comfortable banter with Choso. It was expected that the initial hour of a first date was always going to be a bit awkward and restrained.

The way he drove with one hand on the stirring wheel, and the other rested on the gear shift was so incredibly hot. You nearly forgot what it was like to be a passenger princess, which was why when he offered to come pick you up, you immediately jumped on it.

What’s so wrong about a girl wanting to be spoiled every so often?

And by spoiled, it wasn’t just material things, it was acts of services. Wanting to be understood without having to spell everything out. Wanting for someone to just offer their help, not because you’re incapable but because they want to.

So far, Choso has made all the right moves in your book. The way he was so calm and collected when you slashed his tires, the way he dealt with Sukuna without putting you on the spot, and the way he initiated asking you out. You were practically going feral over him.

It was true what they say, pick a man that was obsessed with you—and everything else will come after.

But was he really obsessed? You could only pray to the universe that he was.

...

It was a horrible mistake to have come here.

Fine dining was anything but fine, and Choso should have known better. But still, he wanted to impress you and it completely backfired.

How could the two of you get to know each other, if you could hardly even see each other under these dim lights? They mean to tell you that they charge an upwards of four-hundred dollars per meal, and they still need to cut back on the electricity?

And to top it all off, he could barely make a conversation with you, without Karen and Kevin sitting at the next table giving the stink eye like the two of you were uncouth animals.

They say the world of fine dining laid in the experience, but the only experience the both of you had was ‘what the actual fuck was this?’

He definitely does not recommend this restaurant as a first date, and probably not for any dates. Unless, you fall into the category of couples who perpetually hate each other but still need to keep up with appearances. You know, the ones that are always on the verge of divorce, but also, never going to actually divorce. It's oddly specific, he knows, because of...personal experience. Dark enough to not see each other's brooding faces. Quiet enough to avoid the things that need to be said. And enough wine to get through the night.

"What did you think of it?" You asked, as the two of you walked out of the restaurant.

"If I'm being honest, completely awful," he smirked, tossing the crumpled receipt into the nearest trash bin, "What did we have? A leaf and two meatballs?"

You let out a sigh of relief and laughed, "Two might be a bit generous for fine dining."

"It should be illegal, because what do you mean we came to a restaurant for an experience and not for food?" Choso chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Well, I have a place in mind since we're both...unsatisfied," there was a flirty and mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Choso swallowed the lump in his throat. Are you suggesting what he thinks you're suggesting?

You hook your hand under his arm. Bold. Exactly what he expected, and exactly what he liked.

You are a gentleman. A gentleman. The gentlest of man. Choso repeated in his head like a mantra.

"Mel's Diner is just down the street!" You pointed enthusiastically, "Have you ever been? Their burgers and milkshakes are to die for."

Of course, you were talking about food. What else could you have possibly meant?

"Good call, I'm starved."

"It'll be my treat," you grinned, already dragging him in the direction of the glowing neon sign.

---

Marry me. Choso proposed to you in his head as he watched you bring the tray of milkshakes and burgers.

He wouldn't mind an 80's diner wedding, underneath the fluorescent lights and all. It was perfect. The two of you were already somewhat dressed for the occasion. Heaven is a Place on Earth was playing softly in the background. The cashier could be the officiant, and the three other customers in the diner could be the witnesses.

You slide into the seat beside Choso, completely oblivious to the fantasy 80's diner wedding he was rehearsing in his head.

"Dig in!" Your mouth was practically salivating from the smell.

Your fingers brushed against his as you handed him the burger. His calloused fingertips were the kind that belonged to a man who worked with his hands.

Now, you weren’t so sure anymore if you were salivating because of the burger… or because of this man.

"Do you play the guitar?" you asked absentmindedly, taking another bite of your burger.

"I play the bass," Choso replied. "Sometimes I jam out with Jin and Sukuna."

"Sukuna is… the one who came through the door, right?"

"Mhm. He plays the drums. And Jin—his twin brother—is on guitar. The two look nothing alike, though."

You could only imagine. One big, brooding man who looked like he could absolutely send you to the shadow realm with a single punch was already enough. Two would be catastrophic.

"It could get chaotic sometimes," Choso smiled, "But they're like brothers to me."

"Are you an only child?"

"Oh, no. I have a few siblings, but I don't talk to my family anymore. I was never really close with them."

"Family dynamics can get complicated," you said with a quiet nod. "Are you... happy with how things turned out? Is there anything you would do differently?"

"Happier than ever. I wouldn't change a thing," he smiled thoughtfully.

His honesty and vulnerability only made him all the more attractive. Your heart was practically doing flips.

You stirred your milkshake mindlessly, unable to shake the heat radiating off of him. Your arms were practically touching given the cramped booth, and somehow, that felt more intimate than holding hands.

"So your ex, huh?" he broke the silence, a sly edge to his voice. "Must’ve really been something for you to want to commit your first felony."

"Ugh, don't mention it," you groaned, "I should have known something was off when he didn't even have a driver’s license. That scum cheated on me with my best friend."

"I hope his dick falls off." Choso rolled his eyes.

You laughed, "Trust me. I pray for that everyday."

"His loss though," he shrugged, "Thanks to him, I have a chance."

The both of you blushed as your eyes locked on each other.

“You got a little bit of…” Choso murmured, reaching up to wipe the mayo from the corner of your lips with his thumb.

You looked at him with your mouth slightly agape, while he casually glanced around for a tissue. It was insane how this man had you in a chokehold without even trying. Something took hold of you—some primal need to taste him, to start something you couldn't walk away from. You grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth, sucking it clean without a second thought.

"I want you to fuck me, Choso."

Was this a dream?

He blinked a few times.

Oh.

---

"My place or yours—"

"I don't care," you hissed, "Start driving. Or we'll do it here."

You suppose his physique wasn't just for show. You could tell how well-built he was even under the greasy coveralls at the garage. And the way he had his black shirt sleeves rolled up this entire evening, to reveal his veiny forearms was definitely a seduction tactic—which obviously worked, and you are not ashamed to admit that.

As the two of you stumble through your apartment door, he swings you over his shoulder.

"C-Cho! Lock the door." You giggled.

The lock of the door clicks, and he impatiently walks over to your room and throws you onto the bed. The way he looked down at you alone was enough to send a shiver down your spine, like a predator with his gaze fixated only on his prey, and nothing else. His eyes alone were enough to tell you how much he wanted you.

Now, the issue was: he didn't have protection. Choso, although lowkey had hopes that tonight would end with a bang, genuinely did not anticipate that you'd actually want to have sex with him. So he didn't bring anything with him.

A gentleman. He was trying to be a gentleman. Though he knew it'd be difficult the moment he saw you.

"Just fuck me raw then," you said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Choso muttered a few swear words under his breath. But who was he to deny you?

Your wish was his command.

A cocky smile tugged at his lips, as he unbuttoned his shirt. Revealing his ripped physique and upper arm tattoos. You could see the way his back muscles flexed in the mirror—which was enough to already make you wet.

You didn’t expect this at all. Then again… it was always the quiet ones.

The way his cock strained against his boxers made it clear just how much he ached for you.

But as he hovered closer, something else hit you: for the first time ever… why did you feel so flustered? Where had all that confidence and boldness from ten seconds ago gone?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him a little closer.

“I want you to kiss me,” you said, quieter than you expected. A blush crept up your cheeks, hidden under the dim lights.

Without another word, his lips crashed into yours. It was hungry and intense, igniting a warmth within you. His hands eagerly roamed your body, tracing every line and curve, like he’d been dying to touch you all night. Your scent, the softness of your body, it was everything he had been imagining but even better.

He guided you down gently on the bed. The sight of you laid out before him was enough to make him let go of all his restraint, but no, he wanted to savor this moment and take his time with you. His lips wandered, leaving trails of hot kisses along your jawline and neck, while deftly removing the layers of clothing that stood between him and your bare skin.

“Show me how you like it,” he murmured, as he slid down your panties, “I’m good with my hands.”

His words gave you chills.

Maybe you saved an entire country in a past life—whatever it was, you weren’t complaining. You'd hit the jackpot.

You took his hand, placing it right where you wanted it. Guiding his fingers, showing him the pace and pressure that drove you wild. His thumb found your sweet spot, and he gently circled it while his middle finger teased your entrance, making your breath hitch.

"Mm—right there, Choso!" You cried, as your hips bucked up for more. His mouth latched onto your breasts, suckling gently while his free hand continued to explore your body. Every touch, every breath on your skin, was enough to unravel you—and he wasn’t even inside yet.

Pleasure built steadily—warmth tingling through your limbs, wrapping you in heat. True to his words, Choso was indeed good with his hands. His fingers steadily moved in and out, stretching you as he prepped you for what's to come. The sheets twisted in your fists as you writhed beneath him, panting and gasping with each delicious stroke.

"Don't you dare stop," you panted, your body tensing up with the closeness of your climax. "Y-Yes, Choso, right there!"

He applies more pressure to your clit, and quickens the pace of his fingers. "Cum, sweetheart. Let go for me," his voice hoarse with lust and desire.

The tension within you snap. Your back arching off the bed as you cried his name, the release crashing over you like a wave. Your body trembled as you relished the aftershock. Your head spun, like you were on some kind of high.

If there’s one thing you learned from the last twenty minutes, it’s that you could get off on words alone.

When you finally came back to your senses, Choso was hovered over you. A cocky smile plastered on his face.

"That was amazing," he breathed, clearly a little more satisfied with himself.

"Mhm. But now..." you said playfully, your usual boldness returning, "It's your turn to feel good."

You push him flat on the bed and swing your leg over, straddling his hips. His face flushed an even deeper red. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, and the thought of having him inside was driving you insane. Peeling off his boxer, your eyes widen as his cock springs up to reveal a silver piercing.

"You like it?" He raised an eyebrow. Clearly proud of his hidden accessory.

The duality of this man. Who taught him to be so sinfully deceptive?

It was your first time seeing this in person. Your fingers curiously trace from the base of his cock and up to his piercing, touching the piece of metal and the pierced skin.

“Ngh—sweetheart,” he groaned, grabbing your wrist, “if you keep playing with it, I’m gonna cum.”

You hummed and gave him a sly look, grinding your wet core against his cock, coating it with your juices. His tip already beginning to leak with pre-cum.

It felt nice. To feel so desired and understood by someone.

"I want you to cum inside me," you blurted.

Both of you stared at each other, eyes wide. Choso swallowed hard—he swore he was losing his mind. Scratch that. He had already lost it in the car.

He nodded.

His hands found your hips, firm but gentle, as you guided his cock to your entrance—and slowly began to sink down onto him.

"Hah—Choso, you're…" you gasped, struggling to breathe through the stretch.

Choso was pretty sure he had already ascended. Seeing how you were determined to take him, and also focused on his pleasure was the sexiest thing he's ever experienced. Not to mention, he wasn't even fully in yet and he's already about to blow.

"Relax. Take it slow," he cooed, his thumbs gently rubbing circles into your hips. "Just let me know if you want to switch."

You sank down onto him with a moan; the fullness was dizzying, your breath catching as your walls pulsed around him. After adjusting to the fullness, you begin to slowly move, savoring the feeling of how he stretched you deliciously, and the extra sensation of the piercing.

"Fuck, you feel like heaven," Choso sucked his breath in, his grip tightening around your hips.

The bed creaked as you picked up the pace, riding him with enthusiasm. The room was thick and heavy with heady musk, breathy moans, and the skin on skin contact were the only sounds that filled the air.

"T-That's right, sweetheart. Shit—you're perfect. You're doing so good," he was a babbling mess.

"R-Ruin me, Choso! F-Fuck me."

He let out a deep groan, gripping your hips so hard you knew you’d bruise. In one smooth motion, he flipped you onto your back and caged you beneath him. His hands slid beneath your thighs, spreading them apart before hooking one leg over his shoulder, angling you perfectly beneath him. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your entire body.

"Harder, I want it all," you begged. Tears pricked your eyes. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

He gave it to you on command—relentless and deep, eliciting cries of pleasure from you like it was his mission. The friction was incredible, and the piercing only added to the sensation, nudging just the right spots inside, until your whole body tightened, your orgasm approaching fast and brutal.

"Fuck, Choso—!" You shattered beneath him, release washing over you in waves, your vision going white as your body trembled from the intensity.

He followed, stuttering inside you with a low, strangled moan. His hips stilled, buried deep as his warmth filled you. His body trembled against yours, forehead pressing into your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

...

You lay snuggled under Choso's arm, neither of you fully having come down from the high—but everything felt… right. The moment was perfect.

Maybe you were the one with the cosmic plot armor. Because how else do you go from slashing the wrong guy’s tires, to finding someone you genuinely connect with, and then also getting the best dick of your life?

This man was almost too good to be true. Surely, he must’ve been written by a woman.

“Be my girlfriend?” Choso suddenly asked.

You were definitely the one wearing the plot armor.

“Yes,” you smiled, looking up at him—and leaned in for a kiss.

---

"So, how did the date go?" Sukuna asked.

"Better than I expected. I'll be seeing her again," Choso smiled.

He was a liar, it was not just better. It was an enlightenment. He might not devote himself to the monastic lifestyle, but you are without a doubt his newfound religion.

Also, he's not about to let his mentor know how he ended up having the most mind-blowing sex on his first date. He highly doubt Sukuna would want to know about his sex life, it'd feel like a coercion more than anything.

By some stroke of luck, you had also agreed to become his girlfriend. Perhaps he saved a country or something in his past life—not that he really believes in those stuff.

"Well, I'm glad it went well, because I have something for you," Jin said, walking in on the conversation with a shit-eating grin.

He held up a small USB stick and handed it over to Choso.

"What's this?" Choso blinked.

"A copy of How I Met Your Mother: Choso Edition. We even added music," Jin said proudly.

"...You're kidding." Choso stared at it.

"We debated putting it on DVD," Sukuna added, leaning against the doorframe, "but figured you'd want portability."

Choso groaned and shoved the USB into his pocket.

Yeah. Life was good.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

I do not own any of the photos used in this banner

a/n #2: would any of you be interested in a playlist for the Cross My Heart au? Let me know in the comments! I appreciate you all. x

[linskywords]

Key takeaways from the WillMack podcast episode so far:

Omg I can't tell these boys' voice apart. How dare they both be boys of a certain age and why can't one of them have more of an accent

However, I did manage to suss out that Mack punched a hole in Will's windshield because Will was taking too long getting new golf clubs?? And then Mack just, like, not having another side of the story. They both agree that's what happened. Though Mack does maintain that Will's windshield was fundamentally unsafe for cracking that easily.

Also he refused to apologize because he was going to pay for it.

Their favorite song is Pony.

By Ginuwine.

From Magic Mike.

At least that's how they introduce it.

Will HAS A DANCE TO THIS.

Neither of them could remember the words to it on the air. (Or so they said.)

They think the idea of wearing each other's suits is gross. Not, like, weird, or they wouldn't fit, but gross. Cooties, probably.

They never go out to dinner without each other, unless they have family in town.

They do, however, get tragically separated on the road sometimes if other guys are called up. This resulted in Mack missing out on the best hotel cookies, which were in Fort Lauderdale. They bravely took this in stride.

Mack (probably) was quiet when they first met at rookie camp, but he opened up quick.

They think Cat and Toff can't take a joke. It's possible they're actually joking a lot more of the time than it seems and they're just really deadpan about it.

Mack thinks Will looks like a donkey, which seems fairly accurate.

Will thinks Mack looks like a parrot, which is completely wrong. Mack is obviously a capybara.

They go to coffee shops to people watch (but it's not weird!!) either once a month or every other day. Unfortunately due to my voice blindness I don't know who was making which claim.

It may have been Toff who suggested that if WillMack moves in with him, Cat will have to leave. Toff begs to differ.

WillMack is going to discuss living arrangements for next year after the end of the season. That has now happened, presumably. We need them to go on another podcast so we can find out what happened.

I'm sure I have forgotten many magical moments. Please remind me at your leisure!

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; the reunion ends with forgiveness and firm boundaries, and an unlikely proposition. back home, leah reveals her need to journey and define her life beyond your growing shadow.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

A hush as dense as morning fog settled over the room. 

Ghost lingered behind the couch, arms folded, mask in place; Soap was perched on the armrest, knee bouncing; Gaz stood by the doorway, alert but outwardly calm, a faint shimmer of ward‑dust swirling around his boots; and Price leaned against the mantle, steady as a stone idol. You sat across from him, spine rigid, every muscle locked against the scrutiny of four men who once knew your heartbeat by memory.

You drew a single breath, let it lodge behind your ribs, and spoke before courage could abandon you. “I can’t quite believe it,” you said, voice low and surgical, “that you actually moved to my town—my home—just to follow me. To grovel. To beg for forgiveness as if that could unwind the past.” Your words cracked like a whip. 

“Then again,” you continued, gaze flicking from Johnny’s sheepish grimace to Ghost’s blank mask, “maybe I can believe it. Grand gestures were always your favorite sin.”

You inhaled deeper, bracing against the dull throb where old wounds still lived. “And yet,” your voice softened around a truth you could not deny, “thank you. All of you.” 

The hush didn’t break, but the air thickened as though it recognized gratitude like a spell. “Thank you for stepping in when I couldn’t, for helping me put Makarov down when I had nothing left. Without that intervention I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn���t be me.”

For a heartbeat you allowed yourself to see them not as traitors or ghosts, but as the men you once loved—perhaps still loved in corners of the heart you’d tried to board up.

“I am angry,” you admitted, the confession scraping your throat.

“Probably always will be. But that night shaped everything. Like it or not, you helped build the path that placed leadership on my shoulders.” Soap’s body leaned forward, desperate to close the distance. You lifted a single palm—halt—and he froze, breathing hard, as if muscle memory alone might yank him into your gravity. Silence draped the room again. You laced your fingers tight to keep them from trembling.

“I forgive you,” you said, and the words weighed more than you expected. “I know you were brainwashed, manipulated. Still, that doesn’t erase what shattered in me.”

A bitter laugh escaped you.

“I clung to you like lifelines, thought I knew every quirk. Truth is, Johnny, I don’t even know how you take your tea. Or if Gaz sleeps in socks.” Gaz made a face—half offense, half amusement—muttering, “Who on earth sleeps in socks?” Soap huffed, but your point landed. 

“I filled the gaps with fantasy,” you finished quietly. “That’s on me. I’m sorry—for expecting you to patch the holes in me simply by being there.”

The silence that followed was not empty, it thrummed with grief and half‑glimpsed hope. Price unfolded his arms and pushed off the mantle. “We acknowledge it,” he said, voice like gravel under boot, “but we’re not acceptin’ it.” 

You blinked. “Excuse me?” 

Then Soap shot upright, chair legs scraping. “Damn right we’re not!” His blue eyes blazed with unshed desperation. “You’re floggin’ yourself for lovin’ us too much, bonnie. But do you think we came here outta pity? We can’t breathe right without you. Every day hurts!”

Gaz laid a steadying hand on his shoulder, though the same ache shimmered in his own eyes. “We know we lost your trust,” he said softly. “But don’t pretend the bond was one‑sided. It’s still real, even broken, and if there’s any shard left to mend—” He let the unfinished promise hang. Ghost remained silent, but he stepped closer, silent vow radiating from the set of his shoulders.

“I can’t,” you whispered, voice shredding. “I can’t give you anything. Not now.” 

Tears blurred your vision; fury and shame tangled in your chest. “I hate that I still feel something. I hate that part of me misses you and I can’t cauterize it.” Soap made a low, wounded sound as Ghost’s gloved fist clenched. “I should have buried this,” you rasped. “Let it rot.”

“But you didn’t,” Price countered, voice gentling without losing steel. “And neither did we.” The truth hovered like smoke. You were breaking—but so were they.

You swallowed, drew yourself taller though exhaustion dragged at every limb. “Listen carefully. For now you can stay. I won’t force you out. But I still need the distance. Weeks, months—whatever it takes."

It had already been a year, and despite the restraint clearly already ready to burst at the seams, this would be the perfect test. Both for them and you.

“And Leah lives with me,” you added, protective steel in the name. “She owns her scars. Keep your distance unless she chooses otherwise.” Unease flickered across their faces—shared guilt for harm they hadn’t meant. Gaz answered, “Understood. Her terms rule.”

Relief loosened something inside you. With everything out of the way, at least for now, you stood to leave.

"Well....I'll be seeing you around, I guess." Surprisingly nobody followed. Well, expected Price. He rounded the table, ready to guide you out.

His hand found the small of your back as he followed you through the hallway. The house was quiet now—no more clatter of boots, no sharp inhalations of half‑swallowed arguments—only the subdued creak of old floorboards and the faint clink of glasses settling in the other room. Lamps cast pools of amber across the walls, and your shadow moved alongside his brief moments where the two merged before separating again.

He paused at a side table to snag his cap, brushing unseen dust from the brim in a small, absent gesture of habit. Then he opened the front door, letting in a wash of night air scented with pine and damp earth. Starlight splintered on the porch rails; the distant murmur of the town’s night‑watch bells drifted across the fields.

Price didn’t release you right away. He stepped onto the threshold with you, gaze sweeping the dark road as if mapping potential threats before returning to your face. Only then did he speak—voice pitched low, meant for you alone.

“We’re not blind to what’s been shifting since last year,” he began. “A new matriarch at the center of the web, stirring up council seats that haven’t budged since smoke signals were state‑of‑the‑art. A lot of good’s come from your leadership—lively streets, open borders, folks actually smiling in daylight. But change?” He huffed a humorless laugh. “Change makes the oldest bones creak. Some of those ancients in your High Circle would sooner petrify the whole coven than let it bend.”

You stiffened at the truth of it.

You’d felt every silent rebuke carved into council chambers—every potion master who sniffed at your reforms as though fresh air itself might poison tradition. He read the flash in your eyes and pressed on.

“We also know König and Horangi will likely take their leave once your mothers retire,” Price continued, voice pitched low. “They’ve given the coven decades—stood watch when everyone else slept, bled to keep its walls upright. But when the two old matriarchs step aside? Well, those lads may fancy open skies for once—somewhere no one calls ’em muscle or minder.” He tipped his cap back, meeting your gaze squarely. “That’ll leave you shorthanded—two pillars gone while the roof’s still settling.”

You exhaled through your nose, a slow, reluctant acknowledgment. Part of you had known this was coming ever since that moment on the hallway months ago, when König confessed feelings he’d hidden for years. You’d turned him down, quiet harshly at that, yet he’d accepted the answer with his usual, wordless loyalty. But afterward, you’d often caught him staring toward the horizon, as though mapping a life that didn’t require him to haunt your shadow. Freedom, you suspected, would heal him in ways the coven’s corridors never could.

The night pulsed around you; the wards along the fence line thrummed at the edge of your senses like distant bees.

“So here it is plain.” Price’s tone softened, gentled by something that felt older than war. “Let us be those pillars. The four of us—my pack. We stand in their stead, if you’ll have us.”

Behind him, through the open door, you caught silhouettes: Soap halfway out of his seat, hope blazing bright; Gaz leaning in the doorway, arms crossed but nodding once, steady as a vow; Ghost a darker presence at the corridor’s mouth, mask unmoving yet radiating fierce allegiance. They stood like stars fallen into human skin, each one waiting for your celestial mechanics to draw them back into orbit.

Your pulse thundered. The notion of replacing König’s quiet steadfastness and Horangi’s razor‑sharp counsel with four men who had broken your heart felt impossible—yet their offer glowed like embers in snow, stubborn and warm.

“I… appreciate the offer,” you said, voice husky from the whirl of emotions still lodged in your chest. “But my boundaries stand. Space, time—no stepping over lines. If you can keep to that… I’ll consider it.”

Price’s mouth curved—not smug, but pleased, as though the first stone of a long bridge had just been set. “That’s all we ask, love. Consideration.” He gave a slow nod, tilting his cap as though sealing a contract. “We’ll remain exactly where you need us—no more, no less.”

Reluctant hope flickered traitorously in your heart. You stepped onto the porch boards; they groaned underfoot.

You faced Price once more. “Goodnight, Captain.”

“’Night, Matriarch,” he replied, voice warm enough to curl in the cold. He stayed on the threshold until you reached the end of the path—guardian to the last—before the door clicked shut behind him.

The walk back to the manor was long and.....lonely, but moonlight painted silver across cobblestones, and every breath tasted of possibility. You were uncertain, bruised, still angry—but the fragile ember inside your chest burned a fraction brighter.

Change did rattle old bones. But it also made room for new foundations to rise.

. . .

The manor’s gates groaned open to admit you, wards fluttering over your skin in recognition. Lanterns along the front path glowed a soft rose‑gold, but every window beyond remained dark; the household had long since gone to bed.

For now, only Sybil was awake.

You had barely shut the heavy oak door when a blur of fur barreled down the hall. Sybil skidded across the polished marble, claws tapping frantically, dark eyes wide with accusation. She shoved her broad muzzle beneath your hand, whining—a sharp, scolding sound that vibrated in her chest.

“All right, all right,” you murmured, fingers diving into her ruff. She huffed, clearly displeased, then inhaled—one deep, thorough breath—and froze. The mingled scents of Soap’s cologne, Ghost’s leather, Price’s tobacco, and Gaz’s ward‑dust still clung to your clothes. Sybil’s ears flattened; she nosed your coat again, as if to be certain. A soft, disapproving grumble rolled up her throat.

“Not a word,” you sighed, guilt pricking. “I know I should’ve taken you.” You tugged off your boots in the entryway and padded toward the sitting room, Sybil glued to your side. She bumped your hip each step, her own wordless reprimand.

Inside, the hearth was banked to embers, casting copper shadows across bookshelves. You collapsed onto the rug, pulling Sybil down with you. She flopped half‑across your lap, an eighty‑pound criticism. You answered with apologetic kisses to her velvety ear, gentle scritches beneath her jaw. Her tail thumped once in reluctant forgiveness, but she continued to stare up at you, eyes reflecting firelight and worry.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, smoothing the fur over her ribs. “Shaken, but alive.”

A creak sounded in the doorway. Leah hovered there in slippers and an oversized cardigan, hair tousled from sleep but eyes sharp and very awake. She took in Sybil’s posture, the coat you still wore, the flush in your cheeks.

“You went to them,” she said—not quite a question, not quite an accusation. Just fact.

You nodded, too tired for pretense. “Price asked to talk. All of them did.” You motioned to the far armchair. “Come in. I’ll give you the unabridged version.”

Leah crossed the room, curling into the chair with her knees tucked beneath her. The soft glow of embers painted her golden hair with copper streaks. She listened without interrupting while you recounted the confrontation: the gratitude and the fury, the boundaries set, Ghost’s pledge, Price’s final offer. Every so often her gaze flicked to Sybil, then back to you, assessing, weighing.

When you finished, silence settled, punctuated only by Sybil’s slow breathing and the crackle of burning oak.

Leah spoke first, voice measured. “I’m… relieved you laid down rules. And grateful you mentioned me.” She braided a strand of her hair around one finger. “But hearing they’re back, hearing how badly they want in…” She swallowed. “It’s complicated.”

You opened your mouth, ready to promise them nowhere near her, but Leah raised a hand.

“That’s only part of it,” she said. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about leaving for months.”

The words struck like a sudden downdraft. “Leaving?” You shifted, Sybil whined. “Because of the pack?”

“Partly,” Leah admitted, fingers tightening in the knit sleeve. “But mostly… me. You know what your Mom discovered about the parasite’s imprint. I’m neither fully human nor fully supernatural. I feel… unanchored.” Her gaze flicked toward the dark windowpane, where reflections of fire danced like distant spirits. “Everyone here has roots: lineage, magic, a place in the coven’s lattice. I have you—and I’m grateful beyond words—but I still wake some nights wondering who I am when I’m not in your shadow.”

The confession hollowed something in your chest. “Leah, you have a home here. You’re family.”

“I know.” Her smile was rueful. “That’s what scares me. I don’t want to stay only because your power makes the imprint easier. I want to choose it, not need it.”

Your throat tightened. “Are you—are you asking to leave?”

“I’m asking for time,” she said softly. “The same thing you asked of them.” She met your eyes—steady, earnest. “Let me visit other sanctuaries. Meet with healers who understand in‑between things. Figure out whether my place is truly here—or somewhere I carve for myself.”

Sybil rose, rested her head on Leah’s knee, a silent gesture of solidarity. Leah stroked her ears, smile trembling.

You exhaled, a slow, painful release. First König and Horangi, now Leah looking to wander. Part of you wanted to lock every door to keep everyone safe and close. But leadership had taught you the cost of clenched fists: nothing new can grow in a grip that never opens.

“All right,” you said, voice hoarse but firm. “Take the time you need. I won’t chain you here—physically or emotionally.” You reached across the low table, brushing your fingertips over her hand. “But promise you’ll write. And promise you’ll come back if the imprint worsens.”

Leah’s eyes glistened. “I promise.”

She rose, crossed to you, and pulled you into a fierce, awkward hug around Sybil’s bulk. You held her tight, pressing your cheek to her hair, anchoring each other for one long breath before letting go.

When she finally left for her room, Sybil circled, curled against your side, and rested her heavy head on your lap. You leaned back on your palms, staring into the dying fire. Price’s proposal echoed in the dark, tangled now with Leah’s request. Pillars leaving, pillars offered, friends risking the wide unknown—no wonder the future felt like a shifting deck beneath your feet.

Change rattled the oldest bones—but somewhere inside the noise, hope kept humming.

divider credit

[chipthekeeper]

On September 21, 2022, one day before my 30th birthday, I took a vacation day. I usually take one on my birthday when it falls during the week, and I would have done so in 2022 as well if not for the fact that something monumental was happening the day before. On September 21, 2022, a Wednesday, I slept in as long as my pent up excitement allowed, got up and made coffee, then went to my living room and settled into my recliner, placed directly in front of my tv as if I could sit in the front row of a movie theater. I cursed under my breath at some noisy people working in the apartment next door and at the light of the morning still sneaking in through the window even though I’d covered it with a blackout curtain. With the conditions as close to perfect as I could get them and my giddy anticipation becoming unbearable, I finally pulled up Disney+ and turned on the first episode of the show that I’d been waiting to see for almost two years.

What I saw that day, and for the next nine Wednesday mornings (getting up an hour before my usual 6:30 alarm just to watch because I could NOT wait the whole day), was nothing short of incredible, life-changing Star Wars. What I'd hoped would be at the very least a nice buildup to my favorite movie about the rebellion turned out to be perhaps the most meaningful piece of media I've ever consumed. You don't need me to list all the reasons why. We've talked about it over and over, and many people have said it all so much better than I could ever dream to. The hope this show instills and the representation I felt in watching it can never be properly put into words.

But even more than the experience of watching the show itself over those ten truly incredible weeks, I've come to value all the many, MANY weeks since. Nearly two and a half years. One hundred and twenty-five weeks. Eight hundred and eighty-one days. Some of them went by so slowly and painfully that we started to think we'd never reach this day, but we did. And we did it together. We did it with gifsets and metas, with shitposts and unhinged poll tournaments. We created names and lore and fics where there was never meant to be any. We some people truly lost the plot and created the peedy-verse (and for that I am constantly repenting).

The point is, I am so grateful for the day I finally decided the boredom was too overwhelming, when I started dedicating myself to [Shit]Posting Through It with more organization and passion than any day of actual work in my life. It has been the greatest privilege to have existed here with you all throughout this wait, to have seen this community stick together and thrive in our little corner of the internet. We've gotten through some really tough times together with the help of this show and all of our friends we've made along the way. And now the day has come that we've all been waiting for, and I could not be happier to get to experience it with everyone.

Whatever happens now, we made it! From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for helping spread joy throughout this community every single day we've had to wait.

Now let's have some fun, rebels <3

[velmalav]

The Giver - Frank Langdon pt. IV

masterlist

day one // night one // day two

night two - f.l.

synopsis: being the selfless person you are, you agree to travel to a 3-day conference with your biggest competition - dr. langdon. part 3 of I don't know how many yet :-)

warnings: cursing, oops there's only one bed, enemies to lovers, ANGST!!!!

Sometimes you just need to dance.

The gears in my brain haven’t stopped turning since I left Langdon in the lobby. Focusing in an academic setting has never been a problem for me; it’s when I thrive the most. Today was an exception. Notebook splayed open across my lap, pen clicked an excessive number of times in preparation, I kept reminding myself that I needed to take notes for Mel. Another task I’d been determined to complete to make me feel less shitty about making us late. And yet by the end of the eighth and final session, I hadn’t written one single word down.

This isn’t about the startling attraction I’ve realized I have for him; it’s the fact that somewhere from the airport to the hotel to the conference, I started to care about him. And it doesn’t make sense because he’s given me nothing to change how I feel. We’ve spent the entire trip arguing and avoiding each other. If seeing the man I hate naked one time is enough to alter my entire perspective on him, then I’m fucking doomed. And stupid.

But last night felt like we bonded. Yes, most of it out of spite, but somehow without noticing all these years, there’s always been a line to our games. We’ve never let it get in the way of our job and we’ve never actually hurt each other’s feelings. Until this morning. It took me crossing the line to find out there ever was one.

At some point, after waging war inside my head all day, my head started to pound. I was afraid to confront him, another thing I usually never hesitated to do. And so when a lovely ER nurse named Daisha made me aware of the mixer after the conference, I used it as a way to avoid the inevitable for just a little longer.

Theo, a senior resident like Langdon, also just happened to be another means of my avoidance. He was very forward, jumping from small talk to very transparent flirting to whisking me off to the dance floor. My entire aim of the night was to dance – my favorite coping skill – so I wasn’t reluctant to take his hand. In all honesty, it felt wrong. To dance with him. To flirt with him. I just don’t know why.

Well, at least I didn’t. Only half a song in, Theo’s arms around my waist and my fingers gripping into his shoulders, I lean my head back to shake my hair out. Just in time to spot Langdon pushing his way out. And it hits me. It’s the thought of him that’s making this feel wrong. I straighten up, pull away from Theo. He’s confused, trying to lean closer so he presumably can ask what’s wrong when I, like Langdon, start to push my way free.

I spin in Theo’s direction once I’m off the dance floor, giving a sheepish wave before booking it after Langdon.

.

The air is thick and filled to the brim with tension when I reach the hallway outside our hotel room. Langdon walks so fucking fast that he’s already comfortably leaned against the hotel wall, arms crossed with his neck craned upwards. His eyes are closed and by his expression, he seems to be in deep contemplation.

“Langdon,” I call out as I approach, holding up the key card he absolutely forgot there was only one of. His eyes drift open, but slowly, like he’s dreading my presence.

He’s silent, turns so he’s leaning beside the door. He avoids making eye contact. Having taken the hint, I simply unlock the door and let him enter first. Again, he does so without a word. But I can feel that whatever he was thinking about is laced with hostility.

Now that I’m alone with him, I have no idea what to say. Where to start. What to even bring up. But I have to say something, I have to cut this tension.

“Sorry about the keycard. I, uh, forgot to remind you that there was only one,” I say gently.

Standing on the other side of the bed, Langdon appears surprised by my words. I’m not sure I’ve ever apologized to him before. I never thought I’d need to or want to for that matter.

“It’s fine,” he says tightly, neck veins protruding and eyes fixated on everything but me. He begins to gather clothes to change into but there is no relief from his response. If anything, it’s starting to rile me up. I have a terrible habit of getting angry when I’m anxious, and I can feel it simmering underneath my skin.

“Langdon,” I repeat. It’s not a question but in the meek way I say it, it kind of sounds like one.

Nothing. Only the shuffling of bags can be heard. And fuck it’s hot in here all of a sudden.

“Listen, I know you’re pissed about this morning. And even though it’s hard to believe, I am actually really sorry. I should’ve woken you up,” I bite out, shutting my eyes. I’m fidgeting with the ring on my middle finger, awaiting the venomous response I’m sure will follow.

“Oh, you mean when you purposefully sabotaged my medical career? And then lied to my face like it was one of your games? Yeah, I’m still pissed,” Langdon snaps. His words are loud like he just yelled them right in my ear. I open my mouth to fumble out whatever I can think of, but he’s not finished. “And, yeah, it’s hard to believe you’d ever feel fucking sorry about anything. Especially that. Because all you’ve ever done is think about yourself, and it’s just fucking gross.”

Another line crossed. Seeing as though I was the first one to do so, I try and take the words in stride. But they keep beating in my ears like they’re on a timer. And instead of breaking down, my anger rushes in full force.

“Fuck you,” my voice scares me. Tears collect in the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. It’s those words that finally get Langdon to look at me. It doesn’t take him long to realize he’s taken it too far.

I toss my purse on the bed and start towards the bathroom, prepared to lock myself in there for the night. But just as I reach it, Langdon’s hand is yanking me toward him. It’s not aggressive but firm, and his other hand moves to rest upon the top of the door frame so we’re facing each other.

It’s clear he hasn’t thought about his next words because we stand there glaring at each other for what feels like hours. Both breathing heavily, unable to break eye contact. I speak first.

“Say whatever you want, but you don’t know anything about me,” I seethe. “All you see is competition, someone who reminds you of everything you wish you had. And you know what, maybe I don’t feel fucking sorry.” I pull my arm out of his grasp.

Langdon flicks his attention between both of my eyes, trying to read anything he can underneath the coldness of my stare. I’m hoping he can’t see the devastation lurking just behind it.

“All I see is someone I don’t want to know,” he breathes. His voice has lost its edge, a vulnerability breaking through without his permission.

“Wow,” I reply softly, matching his tone.

“Wow,” Langdon mimics, more incredulously. “Now why don’t you go find that dude at the bar and find a place to stay for the night?” out of all of the things he has said to me tonight, this is the sentence he says with the most aggression. Like we’re competing again. Because despite all of the reasons he could be upset with me, the sight of me with another man is what hurt him the most.

I’m not even sure he realizes what he’s just given away. Finally, the relief I’ve been begging to feel all day comes. And I start laughing.

Langdon’s face falls in confusion, still leaning toward me with his hand on the doorframe. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh, “You’re fucking jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he states in a way that seems a whole lot like he’s trying to convince himself, too.

“Oh, we’ve said enough tonight. The least you could do is just admit it,” I push. “I mean, I knew you’d be mad about this morning, it was shitty, and I felt terrible. And maybe a little about the keycard. And I definitely know having to spend half your weekends this year at conferences isn’t helping either. But this mad?” He tries to interrupt, but I refuse to let him, holding up my hand in protest. “It all makes sense now. You saw me with that guy and now you’re fucking jealous.”

Langdon shifts uncomfortably on his feet, propping his other hand on the opposite door frame so he’s towering over me. He glances off past me, tongue swiping past his lips. He’s thinking hard about something. Then his head drops so I can only see the top of his forehead.

The silence is killing me slowly. My smile starts to fade in the thought that I might’ve gotten it all wrong. That he’s actually just pissed about this morning, and now I’ve made it all out to be one big joke. As he lifts his head, probably ready to lay into me again, I sputter out, “I-Frank, I’m sorry. I thought—”

Langdon’s hands drop from the doorframe, and within a second one hand curves around my cheek, the other gripping the back of my neck. My heart has just enough time to sputter once before his mouth is on mine.

My body relaxes into his touch like it’s second nature. I wind a hand into his side, jerking him closer until our chests are one. Senses flooded with only him, his touch, the sound of his uneven breathing, his smell. His mouth drags along mine, and I continue gripping him as to fight the moment we have to come up for air.

But it happens. We breath into each other’s mouths, reveling in the heat existing between us. Eyes shut; I prod at his lips with my own as if trying to find him in the darkness. His one tendril of hair grazes my nose.

“Fuck,” Langdon breathes. I open my eyes to be met with his immediately, harsh blue eyes penetrating me like I’m the first thing he’s ever seen. His eyes half-lidded, he dips down to rejoin our lips. With every second that passes, I crave more of him, wanting him so intensely I’m not sure my heart will remember to beat. I open my mouth, a wordless invitation to have more of me. We stay there, tongues competing against each other, a familiar dance that almost makes me laugh.

“So I was right,” I sigh into his mouth. “Definitely jealous.”

Langdon breaks the kiss, narrowing his eyes as his nose bumps against mine. “You are so fucking lucky you were, too,” he whispers, sending a tremor through my body. He gazes at my lips, temptation simmering in his expression. I anticipate more only for him to break out into a sinister smile. “Too bad we have an early morning tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

Before I can protest or even muster of the courage to beg him to touch me again, he spins into the bathroom and shuts the door. And it hits me when the shower turns on. He played me – this is his revenge for me not waking him this morning.

A temporary truce, one that I know won’t even last through the night.

day three

[hello-gloomy]

So I was thinking. A stanley snyder x reader where Stanley and reader have a one-night stand (no detail if you obviously don't feel comfortable) but its not necessarily supposed to be like that- reader basically disappears in the morning and stan didn't get her number...

Maybe Stanley kind of wants to find her but he can't and reader actually ends up getting pregnant (from one-night stand with Stanley).

And then like she actually ends up being on the same team as Senku with his daughter/son post petrification??

Ignore this if you want. I was just rambling!! Have a lovely day!! And take some rest and breaks please!!

I may have strayed away a bit, but I hope this satisfies you. I also hope you don't mind that I named our son lol.

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

Mini-Me

Stanley Snyder x Fem!Reader

Description: Meeting back up with some previous allies who were also on the ocean leads to the past finally catching up with Stanley with a sweet surprise(s)

Warnings: One curse, manhandling a child lol, light angst, named child of yours and Stanley's making, chaotic uncle Xeno ofc, big brother Senku in the background.

A/N: probably one of my favorite asks ngl.

Words: 863

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

"Hey, kid, where's your mom at?"

"She's taking roll call and checking supplies."

"Alright, you got the coordinates for your position?" The little boy told Senku their location and that their ships would meet soon. Senku hung up, and the crew looked at him expectantly. Most of the original members knew who they were meeting up with, but a few of the others didn't. He just shrugged and told them they'd see some allies soon. Senku went up to the deck, and a few others followed him.

"Hey! There's a ship approaching us!" Kohaku announced from the lookout, and everyone rushed to the ship's front end to spot the other vessel.

"Is that a fucking pirate ship?"

"Technically, yes." Stanley gave the junior scientist an unimpressed look. The vessel docked close by, threw out a boarding bridge, and joined the group on the Perseus. A line was shot out, and a boy with blonde hair zip-lined across and landed on the deck next to what they could tell was the ship captain. You scruffed up your son's blonde hair, let him run off to cause trouble, and went to go and greet Senku.

"Your crew got bigger," You offer him while shaking his hand. He huffs at you in return.

"Want an introduction?"

"I would have dinner first, young man." He rolls his eyes and leads the way to the dining area, announcing an early dinner, much to everyone's happiness. Ryusui announces a party at a reunion of allies, and everyone cheers. Carrying his crossbow on his back and holding his skateboard in his arms while trying to find clear ground to ride it on the crowded deck, he almost crashes when a strong pair of gloved hands saves him and lifts him in the air.

"Are you alright?" Stanley asks while placing the kid back on his feet. When the boy turns and faces him, he feels a strong feeling of whiplash while looking at him. He's the spitting image of himself from when he was a kid; it was a jarring sight. The child was watching him with just as curious eyes. Stanley drops down into a crouch to meet the boy in an eye-level gaze.

"What's your name?"

"Sonata…Sonata Snyder." Stanley felt his heart tighten in his chest, which meant after that night, This was his son, his and your son.

"Sonata!" You jogged down the hallways to see where he had run off so quickly. The second you saw who he was with, though, made you stop dead in your tracks; god, he was just as stunning as those nights in the club. You held your hand to your mouth, all the emotions welling up in your throat simultaneously. Stanley stood up, hoisted his son into the air on his hip, and strode over to you; you took a step back in surprise, but that didn't stop him. He grabbed your hand and made you look at him; the tears started to fall freely now.

"It wasn't just a one-time thing for me." You let out a sob at his words and felt a little hand rubbing the tears from your eyes; you looked at both of them, Your boys.

"It wasn't for me either." You kissed him with all the passion you had in your body. You heard a little gross beside you, and both of you laughed at your son; you showered him in kisses, and Stanley also decided to join in.

"That's your daddy, baby." You told him while messing with his little tufts of gold on his head. The three of you talked a bit more in the hallway before Stanley made a face and shared a thought with you both.

"Let's go meet your uncle Xeno." You chuckled to yourself about the torture the doctor was about to go through. Sonata ran off ahead, and you picked up his skateboard as you walked beside Stanley. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you close.

"Will you start again with me?" he asked as you walked. You looked up at him.

"Yes."

"An Elegant looking child. And the spitting image of you nonetheless, Stan." Xeno told both of you while looking at Sonata. The boy couldn't stop laughing at all the attention his new uncle was giving him. The doctor sat back down and let the child climb over him while the boy explained his crossbow when asked about it. The three of you couldn't help but smile.

"I suppose I have another little soldier now." You couldn't help but burst out laughing while Stanley smiled proudly.

"I'll have to construct you a unique firearm like I do for your Father now," Xeno spoke while holding your son's crossbow.

"Yes, please encourage his shooting habits." You tease while looking at Stanley, who looks ecstatic to have a new shooting partner.

"Yo, it's dinner time." Senku poked his head in, looked at the scene before him, and let out a small 'huh' like he finally concluded a discovery."

"That's who he looks like." He shrugged and closed the door behind him; you smiled again and looked between them, 'Yeah, that's who he looks like, alright.'

[cheolsbitch]

“Don’t Look”

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: Smut | Best Friends to Lovers | Secret Relationship | Slow Burn (turned fast & filthy) (Not proof read)

Word Count: (forgot to do the count ngl)

Status: Ongoing one-shot continuation (maybe)

Content Warnings: (MINORS DNI)

• Sexual tension and explicit sexual content (slow-burn smut)

• Voyeurism elements (accidental and intentional watching)

• Light degradation and praise (eventually)

• Friends-to-lovers tension with emotionally messy moments

• Masturbation (mutual and solo)

• Unspoken feelings, jealousy, possessiveness

• Eventual explicit consent and sexual exploration

Summary:

What started as innocent teasing between childhood best friends has spiraled into something much more dangerous — and addicting. Late-night games, stolen glances, and one risqué manga opened the door, but now? Jaehyun owns her — her body, her sounds, her limits. The only problem? No one else knows they’ve crossed that line.

From stolen touches in crowded rooms to being bent over bathroom stalls, their secret grows harder to hide… and harder to resist. He was supposed to be her best friend. Now he’s her favorite mistake — and he’s not letting anyone else have a taste.

But teasing Jaehyun has its consequences… especially when she moans his name while thinking of someone else. (lil teaser🫣)

This is the full fic to the “don’t look” teaser didn’t expect to actually get people to like it i hope this will story satisfy yall… idk how to feel about it just know that it is STEAMY

The sound of rapid clicking and muffled gunshots filled the air, blending with the occasional curse that left Jaehyun’s lips as he focused on the game. Y/N barely paid him any mind, curled up on his bed with her legs swinging lazily in the air, a well-worn manga volume in her hands.

It was a regular thing — crashing at Jaehyun’s place after classes, him glued to his monitor while she raided his snack stash and made herself at home in his room. They didn’t need to talk to feel comfortable. That’s just how they were. Easy. Familiar.

At least… usually.

Today was different.

Jaehyun had taken off his headset to answer a call, wandering out of the room mid-game. When he came back, the first thing he saw wasn’t the screen. It was Y/N, lying on her stomach on his bed, skirt hiked up just a little too high, and her eyes glued to a page that definitely wasn’t PG-13.

He blinked. Then blinked again.

Was she seriously reading that kind of manga? In his room?

He moved closer, quiet as ever, leaning over to glance at the page. Yup. That was definitely someone getting bent over a desk.

His voice came out lower than intended, a little too amused. “What are you reading?”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin. She snapped the book shut with a gasp and turned over, clutching it to her chest.

“W-What the hell, Jaehyun! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he grinned, walking over and tossing himself onto the bed beside her. “You were just too into it to notice me.”

She narrowed her eyes, cheeks flushed. “You saw nothing.”

“Oh no, I definitely saw something. A lot of something, actually.” He smirked, eyes drifting — not-so-subtly — from the manga to her exposed thighs. “Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Shut up! It’s just—plot. With… extra.”

“Mhmm.” He leaned in, voice dipping to a tease. “Didn’t know my bed was so inspiring.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to cover the blush blooming down her neck. “You’re such an ass.”

“Maybe.” His fingers brushed her knee, lingering longer than they should. “But you’re not denying it.”

Silence hung for a beat too long. The tension wasn’t like usual. It wasn’t playful — not entirely. There was heat in the air, thick and humming between them.

His voice dropped. “You know, if you wanted inspiration… you could’ve just asked.”

She stared at him, heart pounding.

“You’re joking.”

His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up. “Am I?”

Another beat passed. Her book slipped from her hands, forgotten.

And then—

Y/N didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

She couldn’t. Not with the way Jaehyun was looking at her — like he’d just flipped a switch and wasn’t planning to turn it off anytime soon.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “You’re not serious.”

Jaehyun smirked again, slower this time. Darker. His hand, still resting lightly on her knee, started to move. Not rushed, just deliberate — dragging up the soft skin of her thigh, under the hem of her skirt. “You think I’m the kind of guy who says things he doesn’t mean?”

She swallowed hard. “Sometimes.”

“Not about this.”

He leaned closer, one knee sliding between her legs as he crowded her space. She could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles — held back, barely. His fingers brushed higher now, just skimming where her inner thigh met the curve of her underwear. Her breath hitched.

“You’ve been teasing me for months and didn’t even know it,” he murmured, voice low, like a secret just for her. “Walking around in those short skirts, curling up in my bed like it’s yours, making these little sounds when you read your dirty books.”

“I—I wasn’t teasing”

He chuckled, dark and low, thumb hooking under the edge of her panties now. “No? Then what are you doing now, letting me touch you like this and not stopping me?”

She couldn’t answer. Not with the way her pulse was racing. Not with the way his mouth was hovering, close enough that she could feel every word ghost over her lips.

“Say something, baby.”

That broke her. She shivered — not from fear, but from the way he said it. Like he owned the word. Like he already owned her.

“I want you,” she whispered, cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

His eyes darkened — not in mockery, but something deeper. Fiercer. Possessive.

“I’ll take care of you”

And with that, he kissed her.

It wasn’t sweet. It was slow, claiming, full of intent. His tongue slid past her lips, coaxing rather than demanding, but still leaving no room for doubt. His hand moved behind her neck, tilting her to deepen the kiss while his other pushed her skirt up fully, baring her to the cool air and his warm touch.

She moaned into him — soft, unsure. He swallowed the sound greedily.

“You trust me?” he murmured against her lips, fingers now stroking the damp cotton between her legs.

“Yes,” she breathed, hips twitching into his hand.

“Then be a good girl,” he said, voice pure sin, “and let me show you how good it can feel.”

He pulled her underwear down slowly, trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck, teeth scraping lightly as he went. “Keep your hands in my sheets,” he ordered, eyes flicking up. “Don’t hide from me.”

She did as he said, fingers curling into his navy-blue comforter, breath coming faster as he shifted lower. He settled between her thighs like he belonged there, dragging his mouth over the inside of her knee before looking up at her — eyes burning.

“Don’t look away,” he said softly, almost tender. “I want you to watch me when I make you fall apart.”

And then his mouth was on her.

Hot. Wet. Expert.

She gasped, arching, one hand flying to her mouth only for him to pull back and growl, “Hands. In. The. Sheets.”

She obeyed, whimpering when he dove back in, licking and sucking her clit with slow, devastating precision. He took his time, letting her fall apart inch by inch, building the tension until she was trembling, thighs threatening to close around his head.

“Jaehyun,” she sobbed, nearly there.

“Come for me,” he whispered, lips brushing her clit with the words. “Right now. Be good and come on my tongue.”

She shattered.

She came with a cry, thighs shaking, hips bucking into his mouth as he held her down and took everything she gave him.

Only when she stopped trembling did he pull back, lips glistening, eyes dark with something dangerous.

And he still wasn’t done.

“Now,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the body she’d only ever dared to imagine, “you’re gonna lie back like that sweet little mess you are—” he undid his belt slowly, letting the sound echo in the room, “and take your reward like a good girl.”

Y/N’s breath was still catching in her throat when she watched Jaehyun rise above her — slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. His eyes never left hers. Not even as he kicked off his jeans, fingers moving with that same calm confidence that was driving her absolutely insane.

She’d never seen him like this. Not fully.

Not like this — shirtless, flushed, cock hard and heavy in his hand as he stroked it lazily while looking down at her like she was something to be worshipped.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, crawling over her. His fingers traced the outline of her face, brushing hair from her cheek like she was fragile. “You—like this. Under me.”

She bit her lip, heart thudding. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His smile was soft now, almost sad. “Because you were mine long before you ever knew it. And I wasn’t gonna risk losing you… not until I knew you wanted this too.”

She didn’t answer. Just reached up, touching his cheek, then trailing her fingers down his chest, the tight muscles flexing beneath her touch.

“I do,” she whispered. “I want you.”

That was all he needed.

Jaehyun leaned down and kissed her again — this time slower. Deeper. All tongue and warmth, his body lowering to press fully against hers, skin to skin. She could feel everything: his heat, the weight of him, the way his cock slid against her slick folds, not yet inside but enough to make her whimper.

His hand found hers beside her head, fingers lacing together. “You ready, baby?”

She nodded, voice gone.

“Words.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m ready. Please.”

His groan was low, strained. “Fuck. You’re gonna feel so good.”

And then — slowly, carefully — he pushed in.

The stretch was unfamiliar, thick and hot and so much, but he didn’t rush. He kissed her through it, whispered against her skin, his free hand stroking her thigh as he sank in inch by inch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing her temple. “Just breathe. You’re doing so good.”

She clung to him, eyes wide, overwhelmed in the best way as he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt and panting against her neck.

“God, you’re tight,” he growled, stilling for a moment. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep clenching like that.”

“Move,” she gasped. “Please, Jae

He did.

His hips pulled back and rolled forward again, slow and smooth, grinding into her with a rhythm that made her toes curl. Every thrust was measured, sensual, like he wanted her to feel every single inch of him — and she did. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, trying to pull him deeper, closer, more.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, biting down on her shoulder. “You take me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

She couldn’t hold back the moan that tore from her throat.

Jaehyun caught it with a kiss, swallowing the sound as he picked up pace, just a little. The bed creaked, the air thick with heat and breath and the slick sounds of skin on skin.

But through it all, he kept touching her — his hand on her cheek, his mouth on her throat, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Like this wasn’t just sex. Like it was something more.

“You feel everything?” he panted against her skin.

She nodded desperately. “Feels so good… you feel so good…”

“I’ve got you,” he said, voice wrecked but still soft. “I’ll take care of you. Gonna make you come again, alright?”

His thumb found her clit, rubbing in tight circles while he drove into her, each thrust making her cry out.

“Let go for me,” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”

She shattered with a scream, legs locking around him as her orgasm ripped through her. Jaehyun followed with a curse, hips stuttering as he came deep inside her, holding her close like he never wanted to let go.

And when it was over — when the room was filled with only the sound of their breathing and the soft thump of his heartbeat against her chest — he kissed her again.

This time, it was gentle. Loving.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers. “You’re mine.”

Her fingers curled in his hair, a lazy smile spreading across her lips.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Jaehyun didn’t pull away right away. He stayed inside her, warm and pulsing, forehead resting against hers while his fingers lazily traced the curve of her hip. His breath was still heavy, but his touch was gentle — grounding. Worshipful.

Y/N’s legs were still wrapped loosely around him, and even though her body was spent, she didn’t want to let go.

“Was it too much?” he asked softly, eyes searching hers like he hadn’t just made her see stars.

She smiled, tired and blissed out. “No… it was perfect.”

He kissed her nose, then her cheek, then finally her lips again — slow and sweet this time, no urgency. Just affection.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured, carefully slipping out of her. She whimpered at the loss, and he chuckled, low and fond. “I know, baby. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, he returned with a warm cloth, cleaning her up gently, murmuring quiet praises and brushing hair from her forehead.

“So pretty when you’re all fucked out,” he teased, but his touch was careful, his eyes soft. Once she was tucked into his sheets — now officially hers too — he pulled her into his chest and stroked her back.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted someone like I want you.”

She blinked up at him sleepily. “I’ve never let anyone in like this before…”

Jaehyun leaned down and kissed her again, just because he could.

“You’re mine now,” he said, half-possessive, half-promise.

She fell asleep with her head on his chest, heart full and body aching in the best way.

⸻

THE NEXT MORNING

Y/N was deep in sleep, limbs tangled in Jaehyun’s sheets, when she felt something warm and firm press against the back of her thigh.

At first, she stirred faintly, breath hitching as the sensation grew — the softest kisses trailing up her spine, teeth nipping at her shoulder, a hand sliding under the hem of his oversized shirt she wore to bed.

“Morning, baby,” Jaehyun’s voice rasped against her skin, already thick with lust. “You looked too pretty not to touch.”

She whined in protest — half asleep, half already aching. “Jae…”

“You gonna pretend you don’t like it?” he murmured, hand sliding between her legs. She was already wet, and he groaned in satisfaction. “Damn. You were dreaming about me, weren’t you?”

“Mmm… maybe,” she teased, wiggling her hips a little.

His grip tightened slightly. “That attitude’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“Oh no,” she said innocently. “Whatever will you do?”

His hand slid around her throat — not tight, just firm, grounding, possessive — and she gasped at the sudden rush it gave her. Her thighs squeezed together, and Jaehyun noticed instantly.

“Oh?” he grinned, low and wicked. “You like being choked, baby?”

She bit her lip but didn’t answer.

“That was a yes,” he muttered, flipping her onto her back, spreading her thighs. “You should’ve told me. I’d’ve had you crying in pleasure last night.”

His hand stayed at her throat, still gentle, still careful — but undeniably dominant as he slid inside her again, this time with more force. More hunger.

She cried out, hands flying to his biceps, nails digging in.

“Still sore?” he panted, driving into her deeper. “Too bad. You’re the one who woke up wet and bratty.”

“You’re such—ah—an ass.”

He smirked. “Yeah? Then why are you moaning like that?”

He grabbed her thighs and pinned them open, his pace picking up — steady but rougher, his abs flexing as he fucked her into the mattress, groaning every time she clenched around him.

“You want it harder, don’t you?” he breathed against her mouth. “Want me to ruin this sweet little pussy again?”

“Yes—fuck—Jaehyun…”

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Be a good girl. Let me see.”

Her fingers found her clit instantly, circling as he pounded into her harder, more unrestrained now. He was still watching her, though — eyes glued to her face, hand tight around her throat again, thumb brushing her jaw.

“You gonna come for me like this?” he growled. “Choked and used and full of me?”

She nodded, eyes rolling back. “Jaehyun—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he demanded. “Come now.”

She shattered under him with a scream, clenching around him like a vice — and he followed with a loud groan, spilling inside her again, thrusts slowing as he milked every second of her orgasm.

When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, then rolled them gently so she was cradled against him again.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she breathed.

He chuckled against her hair. “You say that like I’m done with you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a lazy smile on her lips.

She was absolutely ruined. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room was thick with heat, the air heavy from everything they’d already done — the tangled sheets, their sweat-slicked bodies, the faint scent of sex still clinging to the air.

Jaehyun was lying back against the pillows now, one arm behind his head, the other lazily brushing along her spine as she rested on his chest, both of them trying to catch their breath. He looked smug. Satisfied. Like a man who’d just conquered something sweet and sacred.

But she wasn’t done.

Y/N lifted her head, eyes dark with mischief and still-flushed cheeks. She trailed her hand down his abs, letting her fingers drift lower, nails teasing just above where the blanket covered his hips.

Jaehyun groaned, low and surprised. “No way. You’re not seriously ready for more.”

She straddled him without a word, sliding up until she was seated right over him, warm and wet and barely hidden by the thin sheet between them. Her hands braced on his chest as she leaned down.

“I wanna ride you,” she whispered against his lips.

Jaehyun’s breath caught. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide. “Fuck. Are you even real?”

She grinned and rocked her hips slightly, feeling him twitch beneath her. “You’re not scared I’ll break you, are you?”

“Scared?” He growled, yanking the sheet away so she was bare above him. “I’m scared you’re gonna pass out. You were crying into my mouth ten minutes ago.”

“Let me show you what I want,” she said, grinding harder now. “Please.”

That word — that please — did something to him.

He watched her sit up, take him in her hand, and line him up with her entrance. The head of his cock slid against her soaked folds, and they both groaned at the contact. Then, slowly, so fucking slowly, she sank down on him.

Jaehyun’s head hit the headboard with a dull thud.

“Holy shit,” he hissed. “You feel even tighter like this.”

Her hands gripped his stomach for balance as she started to move, hips rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Her thighs trembled slightly, but she kept going, riding him with a mix of inexperience and raw, aching need.

And he watched her — eyes locked on the way her breasts bounced, the way her lips parted in moans, the way her nails clawed at his chest as she found the pace that made her see stars.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Taking what you want. Fucking yourself on my cock like you need it.”

“I do,” she gasped. “You feel so good, Jaehyun—fuck—don’t stop looking at me.”

“Never,” he promised, hands finding her hips, helping her grind deeper, harder, until the sounds of wet skin and broken cries echoed in the room. “You’re so fucking sexy like this. Like you were made to ride me.”

She moaned louder, pace faltering as her legs began to tremble harder. She leaned forward, bracing herself on his chest, thighs burning, every inch of her buzzing with overstimulation.

Jaehyun saw it — saw her trying to hold on, trying to stay in control — and smirked darkly.

“Getting tired already, baby?”

She bit her lip, nodded just slightly, eyes glassy.

He sat up in one smooth motion, flipping her effortlessly onto the bed and pulling her onto all fours.

“You shouldn’t have tempted me,” he growled, lining himself up behind her. “You knew what this was gonna do to me.”

She barely had time to breathe before he slammed into her from behind — hard, fast, deep — the new angle making her scream into the pillow. He gripped her hips like he owned her, driving into her relentlessly, the bed frame rocking under the force of it.

“F-fuck—Jaehyun—too much—”

“No,” he gritted, bending down to kiss her spine, his hand tangling in her hair. “You wanted to ride me? You wanted to show me what you like? Then take it.”

He yanked her head back gently by her hair, just enough to make her arch. Her back curved perfectly, ass pressed against his hips with every thrust, and he groaned at the sight of it.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he growled, hot against her ear. “You like being used like my personal toy, huh? Getting fucked stupid first thing in the morning?”

She couldn’t answer. Not with the way he was splitting her open, dragging her closer and closer to the edge again. But her whimpers said it all.

Then, suddenly, his chest pressed to her back. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other came up to press gently around her throat — firm, confident, perfect. His lips were at her ear now, whispering filth as he fucked up into her, angle deep and brutal in the most intoxicating way.

“Can feel you tightening,” he whispered, voice ragged. “You gonna come like this? With me choking you? Huh, baby?”

She sobbed, nodding, body jolting with every thrust.

“Do it,” he growled, slamming into her one final time. “Come for me like the good little slut you are.”

She came hard — harder than she had the first time — shaking in his arms, muscles locking up as her climax hit like a wave. Jaehyun wasn’t far behind. He grunted against her neck, hips jerking as he spilled inside her again, holding her close through the aftershocks.

They collapsed together, sweaty, tangled, completely wrecked.

He kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her temple.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “You were not kidding about round two.”

She laughed breathlessly, collapsing onto her back. “You look ruined.”

“I am,” he groaned, flopping beside her. “You ride me like that again and I’m gonna have to put a ring on you.”

She turned, smirking. “So… round three?”

He blinked.

Then grinned.

“Oh, you’re in trouble.”

“Let’s go get cleaned up Jae, i feel super dirty” she says

All he can think about is what he’ll do to her in the shower

“Anything you want princess, but don’t think i’m done with you yet.”

SHOWER SCENE

Steam had already filled the bathroom by the time Jaehyun dragged her in, lips locked to hers like he couldn’t bear to part for even a second. His hands were on her ass, squeezing, guiding her backwards toward the hot spray as their bodies pressed together.

The second the water hit her back, she gasped — warm and soothing, a perfect contrast to the sharp ache still lingering between her legs from earlier. But Jaehyun wasn’t giving her a break.

His mouth dropped to her throat, sucking a bruise into her skin while his hands slid down her slick body, worshipping every curve like he hadn’t just fucked her senseless.

“You’re unreal,” he muttered into her neck. “I get you off twice, and you’re still looking at me like you want more.”

“I do want more,” she whispered back, fingers curling into his damp hair.

He growled, spinning her and pressing her front to the fogged-up glass wall, hands spreading her legs apart. The hot water ran down her body, pooling between her thighs — and then she felt him again, thick and heavy, sliding against her already-sensitive core.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Still so wet for me. You want it here? Against the glass?”

“Y-yeah,” she panted. “Want you to fuck me, Jaehyun—just fuck me.”

He slid in without warning — hot, deep, and thick — and she nearly screamed from how sensitive she still was. The glass rattled with each thrust as he buried himself inside her over and over, pace rough but controlled, one hand gripping her hip, the other wrapped tight around her throat.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he panted. “Even after everything, you still suck me in like it’s your first time.”

Her legs shook, breath fogging the glass.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Say my name.”

She moaned, voice cracking. “D-Daddy—!”

Everything stopped.

Jaehyun froze mid-thrust, his whole body going still behind her. For a second, all they could hear was the pounding of the water and her own ragged breathing.

Then he twitched inside her — hard.

“W-Wait,” she gasped, panicking. “I didn’t mean—! I mean, I—shit, I didn’t know it would just come out—”

He laughed.

Low. Dark. Dangerous.

“You didn’t know?” he repeated, pulling out of her slowly, then turning her to face him. His hands slid down to grab her ass, hard. “Princess, you could’ve called me that ages ago.”

Her eyes widened as he pushed her back against the tiled wall, gripping her thigh and hiking it up over his hip.

“You like that shit, huh?” he murmured, dragging the head of his cock through her folds again. “Calling me ‘Daddy’ while I fuck you dumb? You dirty little thing.”

She whimpered, already melting.

“Say it again.”

She looked up at him, lips trembling. “Daddy…”

He groaned and slammed into her in one rough stroke, hand coming down on her ass with a loud smack. The sound echoed off the tile, mixing with her gasp as he started thrusting hard — deeper than before, the slap of skin on skin bouncing off the shower walls.

“That’s my girl,” he growled. “Fucking take it.”

She clung to him, the rhythm brutal but addicting — loud, wet, and desperate. His hand gripped her throat again, squeezing just enough to make her moan louder, and his other hand delivered another hard spank to her ass, making her jolt.

“Such a good little slut,” he hissed. “Taking your daddy’s cock like this.”

“Y-You’re so full of yourself,” she managed to choke out, even as her moans stuttered with every hard thrust. “Bet you say that to all your little brats.”

He laughed — low and wrecked. “You’re lucky I like that mouth.”

Another slap. Another choke. Another deep thrust that made her legs shake.

“You keep acting like a brat,” he murmured, licking up her neck, “and I’ll bend you over the sink next.”

She grinned through her moans, breathless. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

Jaehyun snapped.

He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the wall with his body and pounding up into her — hard, sloppy, loud. The water only added to the sound, the slick slide of his cock inside her driving them both insane.

Her head fell back, nails scratching at his shoulders.

“I’m gonna—fuck—gonna come—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, hand tightening at her throat, his mouth on hers as she shattered. Her whole body trembled, walls clenching around him in rhythmic waves. He didn’t stop — just kept going, chasing his own high until his thrusts grew erratic and he came hard inside her again, groaning her name like a prayer.

They stayed like that — shaking, dripping wet, bodies plastered together under the stream — until their breathing evened out.

Jaehyun leaned in, kissed her temple, then whispered against her cheek:

“You call me daddy again, and I swear, I might just fuck the shit out of you with no mercy.”

She laughed — spent, wrecked, and so, so happy.

“Guess I’ll have to say it more often, then.”

He smirked, brushing hair from her face. “You’re so getting bent over that sink next.”

Few weeks later

The music pulsed through the walls of the club, heavy and hot, bass vibrating through the floors like it had its own heartbeat.

Lights flashed overhead in dizzy bursts — red, blue, violet. The crowd moved like waves, hips grinding, drinks spilling, bodies brushing close in the dark.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, Y/N was dancing.

Jaehyun leaned against the bar, jaw clenched, sipping his drink as he watched her with hooded eyes. Her dress was short — dangerously so — clinging to her body like it had been designed to drive him insane. And she knew it. Oh, she fucking knew it.

He watched her laugh at something some random guy whispered in her ear, watched her throw her head back, touching his arm like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him.

Because she wasn’t just his best friend anymore. Not after that night on his bed. Not after the shower. Not after she called him daddy with his hand wrapped around her throat.

And yet here she was — pretending they were still just roommates. Still just close friends out clubbing.

Pretending she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down a little too hard.

Fine.

Two could play.

When she finally turned to glance at him across the floor — all heat and mischief and sweat-slick skin — he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just stared.

That heavy, unreadable stare that made her thighs press together.

She turned back to the guy dancing behind her, but her hips slowed.

She felt it. The shift.

Jaehyun wasn’t just watching anymore.

He was waiting.

She leaned into the stranger’s touch a little more, lips parting in mock laughter.

And across the room, Jaehyun’s jaw ticked.

She should’ve stopped there. Should’ve known better. But she was tipsy — on alcohol, on attention, on him. And she was feeling bratty.

So when she brushed past Jaehyun to grab another drink, she leaned in real close, whispered in his ear:

“Jealous much?”

He didn’t respond. Just looked at her. Unblinking.

So she smirked. Teased her finger along the edge of his collar. “I’m gonna go freshen up. Try not to stare too hard while I walk away.”

She turned.

Jaehyun waited exactly three seconds before downing the last of his drink and following her.

The hallway to the restroom was dim, empty except for the muffled throb of music bleeding through the walls.

Y/N stepped into the women’s restroom, humming under her breath, cheeks flushed from dancing. She leaned over the sink, fixing her lipstick, unaware that the door behind her didn’t fully close.

Then — a click. The lock.

She turned, startled — and there he was.

Jaehyun.

Broad, dark-eyed, towering in the tight space.

“Jae—? What are you—”

“You done?”

His voice was low. Rough. Dangerous.

She blinked. “What?”

He stepped forward, crowding her back against the sink.

“This game you’re playing. You done teasing?”

She laughed — a little breathless now. “It’s not a game—”

“Yes it is,” he cut her off, hand bracing beside her head. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Grinding on some guy like I haven’t fucked you raw three times this week?”

Her breath hitched.

His hand slid to her throat, thumb tilting her chin up.

“You want me to lose it, don’t you?”

“I—maybe.”

His eyes darkened.

“Then congratulations.”

He spun her around before she could react, bending her over the sink. She gasped, bracing herself on the edge as he yanked up her dress — no preamble, no hesitation. Just pure, possessive energy.

“I tried to be patient,” he muttered, dragging his hand down her spine. “Tried to let you play your little game. But you just had to push me.”

“Jaehyun—”

“Shut up,” he growled, yanking her panties to the side. “You don’t get to act like a brat and then pretend you don’t want this.”

She whimpered — hips wiggling just slightly. A challenge.

So he spanked her.

Hard.

The slap echoed in the bathroom, followed by her muffled moan as her hands clenched the edge of the sink.

“I’ll make sure everyone in that club knows who you belong to,” he whispered against her ear. “Even if they never see it.”

Then he pushed into her — slow, punishingly deep — until she was gasping and arching and biting her lip to keep from moaning too loud.

Jaehyun didn’t hold back.

He set a brutal rhythm, fucking into her with possessive precision, each thrust angled perfectly to make her cry out.

One hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back, the other snaked around her waist to choke her gently — thumb pressing right under her jawline.

“You like being used like this?” he hissed. “Bent over a dirty sink like a slut?”

“Y-Yes—fuck—”

“You gonna flirt with another guy again?”

She laughed through a moan — bratty to the end. “Only if you watch.”

He growled and slammed into her harder, one hand smacking her ass again, the other gripping her throat tighter.

“You’re gonna pay for that later.”

“P-Promise?”

He fucked her until her legs gave out, until her moans turned into broken little gasps, until her mascara started to smear from the tears she didn’t even notice.

And when she finally came — hard, shaking, back arched like a bow — Jaehyun followed right behind, spilling into her with a groan that sounded like her name.

They stayed like that for a moment — panting, pressed together, sweaty and flushed — the scent of sex thick in the air.

Finally, he pulled back, fixing her dress and kissing her neck.

“You okay?”

She turned, breathless, eyes blown wide. “I want a round two.”

He smirked. “Back to the apartment.”

“No,” she whispered, tugging him down by the collar.

“I meant in the stall.”

The door to the stall slammed shut behind them, barely catching on the lock before Y/N was already on her knees — dress rumpled, pupils blown wide, lips parted in that wrecked little smile that made Jaehyun twitch.

“You’re getting way too good at that,” he muttered, looking down at her. “Dropping like that without me saying a word?”

She just smirked, fingers curling around his waistband as she undid his jeans, slow and teasing. “You didn’t need to say it.”

Jaehyun hissed between his teeth as she pulled him out, her hand wrapping around his cock like it was second nature by now. And maybe it was.

“You’re already so hard,” she murmured, tongue sliding out to trace his tip. “You like me like this, don’t you?”

He stared down at her, hand threading into her hair. “I like you better when your mouth’s full.”

She grinned — brat — and took him in, slow at first, letting her lips stretch around him, letting him feel every inch. Her hands held him at the base, stroking where her mouth couldn’t reach yet, and soon she was bobbing her head, taking more and more, tongue swirling, moaning around him.

And fuck, that sound…

His hips jerked forward instinctively.

But then he saw it.

Her other hand.

Slipped under her dress. Between her legs. Fingers buried where he should be.

“Y/N,” he growled.

She stilled — mouth still full, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice dropped, dangerous. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

She whimpered around him, lips tightening, but she didn’t move her hand.

He stepped forward, forcing her to take more of him, groaning when she gagged just slightly, those wet, obscene noises echoing off the tile.

Then his leg moved between hers, spreading her wider.

“I said—” his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her off him, spit dripping from her lips “—did I fucking say you could touch yourself?”

“N-No,” she whispered, breathless.

“So what the fuck are you doing?”

She opened her mouth to answer but he was already dragging her up by her hair and spinning her, slamming her back into the stall door.

“You wanna act like a slut?” he muttered. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

He didn’t wait.

He shoved into her in one hard, punishing thrust that made her eyes roll back. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the scream, his other hand slipping under her thigh to hook it around his hip and keep her wide open for him.

He fucked her hard — rough, deep, possessive. Every thrust shoved her into the door, the stall rattling with every slap of skin on skin. His palm came down on her ass in sharp smacks that echoed louder than her moans.

“You like this?” he panted. “Getting used like a toy in some filthy club stall?”

She moaned, clawing at his back.

“What was that?” he taunted. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Yes—yes, daddy—”

He growled, fucking her even deeper, sweat dripping down his temple.

Her body clenched — tight, fluttering — and just when she was about to fall over the edge—

He stopped.

Pulled out.

Her whine was immediate, high and needy.

“What the fuck—Jaehyun—!”

“You don’t deserve to cum,” he said simply. “Not yet.”

She sobbed — bratty and ruined — but he flipped her again, bending her over the toilet tank this time, fucking her from behind at a new angle that had her shaking almost instantly.

Then the phone in her purse started ringing.

They both paused for half a second — then Jaehyun’s grin turned vicious.

“Answer it.”

“What—?”

“Answer the fucking phone.”

She fumbled for it with shaking fingers, not even checking the caller ID.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Johnny,” came the casual voice on the other end. “I was thinking we should hit up that new rooftop bar next week. You down?”

She tried to breathe. Tried to speak.

Jaehyun grabbed her hips and slammed into her hard, making her lurch forward with a muffled cry.

“Y/N?” Johnny asked. “You good?”

She bit her lip hard, trying to speak through the moan threatening to rip out of her throat. “Y-Yeah, I—mhm—‘m good, just—um—club’s really loud.”

Jaehyun’s hand snaked around to rub slow, brutal circles against her clit.

She whimpered.

“Oh,” Johnny said, clearly pausing. “…should I call back later?”

Jaehyun leaned down, whispering into her ear loud enough to be heard: “Go on. Moan for him, princess.”

She couldn’t help it.

She slipped — loud and sharp and filthy.

“Oh fuck—”

Silence on the line.

Then Johnny’s voice, tight. “Yeah. Uh. Definitely calling back later.”

Click.

The line went dead.

⸻

Johnny’s POV

He stared at the screen for a second, blinking.

Across the table, his friends were still chatting, laughing over drinks.

“You good?” one of them asked, noticing his expression.

Johnny cleared his throat, cheeks flushed red. “Y-Yeah. Just… think I called at a weird time.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket and picked up his drink again, but his mind was definitely not on the conversation anymore.

All he could hear was her voice in his head.

That moan.

Fuck.

⸻

Back to Jaehyun

“Oh?” Jaehyun murmured, thrusting slow and deep now, cock dragging against every sensitive spot. “You clenched so hard when he was on the phone.”

She moaned, wrecked.

“You like being fucked while someone’s listening?”

She nodded.

He laughed — low and dangerous. “Maybe you’d like getting fucked while someone watches too.”

She gasped — and clenched again.

“Oh my god,” he grinned. “You’re such a slut.”

Then he leaned down, lips at her ear.

“Maybe I should invite Johnny next time.”

She moaned — high and needy.

“You’d like that, huh?” he growled. “Two cocks instead of one? One in your mouth, one in your pussy? Letting him see how dumb you get when I fuck you like this?”

She nodded again, panting. “P-Please—daddy—”

“Maybe he’d let me cum,” she teased through a moan. “You’re so mean—”

His hand flew to her throat.

“You wanna come?” he hissed, slamming into her. “Then beg for it.”

She whimpered.

“Beg like a good little slut. Or I’ll keep edging you until you cry.”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, thighs trembling, cheek pressed against the cold stall door as Jaehyun’s grip tightened around her throat. Not enough to hurt — not really — but just enough to remind her who she belonged to.

His cock was buried deep inside her, dragging slow, punishing thrusts that had her clenching and fluttering with every drag. She was so close — could feel the edge of it, hot and prickling and just out of reach.

But he wasn’t giving it to her.

Not yet.

“Go on,” he murmured against her ear, breath hot. “You were talking real bold a second ago.”

She whimpered, squirming under him.

“You said maybe Johnny would let you cum.” His voice dropped, dangerous. “You still think that?”

She shook her head quickly, mouth falling open with a gasped moan when he snapped his hips forward again, hitting that spot that made her knees nearly buckle.

“Then beg.”

“I—daddy—please,” she whispered. “Please let me cum, I need it—”

“Not good enough.” His hand slid between her legs, rubbing circles over her soaked clit, fast and firm and mean. “You can do better than that.”

She sobbed, writhing under his grip.

“Please, daddy,” she choked out. “I’ll be good, I swear—don’t wanna be a brat anymore—just wanna cum—please—”

“Say what you are.”

“I’m your slut,” she gasped. “I’m your filthy little slut and I don’t wanna cum unless you say I can—”

His hand slammed over her mouth just in time as he rammed into her — hard, punishing, each thrust stealing air from her lungs.

“Now,” he growled. “Cum for me. Loud.”

She shattered.

Her scream was lost in his palm, her whole body convulsing around him, legs giving out as her orgasm hit her like a truck. Her walls clamped around him so tight he groaned into her neck, hips stuttering as she milked every drop of sensation from him.

But he didn’t stop.

Not even close.

He pulled her back up, arms wrapped around her waist from behind, holding her flush to his chest while he kept fucking her through it, her body twitching and oversensitive.

“You thought we were done?” he rasped. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

She whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder.

“You begged so pretty for that one,” he said, voice low and smug. “Let’s see how long you last now.”

He brought her to the edge again.

And again.

And again.

⸻

She didn’t know how long it had been. Minutes? Hours? Time had dissolved into a haze of overstimulation and gasped breaths, of rough hands and soft kisses and bruising thrusts that made her see stars.

Eventually, Jaehyun finally pulled out, chest heaving, watching her collapse against the door with her dress riding up, thighs shaking, lipstick smeared across her cheek.

“Fuck,” he muttered, bending to kiss the base of her spine. “You look ruined.”

“I am ruined,” she mumbled, barely able to lift her head.

He laughed, soft but smug, and kissed her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A/N: SHESH that was intense… i didn’t really expect it to go this far but i just went with the flow🥸 what do you guys think- yall want me to end it here or have a part 2 with a potential invite to johnny…👁️👄👁️