#but at the same time it's funny not knowing

[kooyabooya]

CALLA

m reader x chaeryeong // 7k words

“You’re gonna be late,” says Chaeryeong, carelessly kicking her feet up in the air off the kitchen counter. “I told you to set your alarm last night after we uh- yeah, then look what happens.” 

She’s not wrong here, honestly. You are going to be late. And it isn’t helping your case when the stolen dress shirt from your closet is being worn by her, staring shamelessly at you with an apple slice in her mouth as you’re cleaning the sink. 

But here you are making things worse, giving in to the sultry grin that Chaeryeong gives when your arms are wrapped around her waist, crumpling up the perfectly ironed piece of cloth when her hands snake up to the nape of your neck, and upwards. “Can’t you just like- call off today?” she asks, carding her fingers deep into the back of your head, massaging, “It’s always so boring here when you’re gone.” 

Your forehead bumps hers, and some of that bedroom hair starts to pool over her right collarbone, compensating for the increasing tilt of your head as the tips of your noses brush together as a small tease as you retreat with Chaeryeong leaning forward to chase that wanting kiss. 

“As much as I want to,” you’re telling her, swooping back in for a quick peck across her cheek. “I can’t. Besides, I called off that other time to stay here with you.” 

Chaeryeong pouts, eyes fixed on your face as she pulls the upper part of your shirt just underneath the collar, revealing. You take into account the scattered marks of cherry fading across her chest and neck, remnants from a list of preferences she loves you to indulge in: her lips, her breasts - especially when she’s bent over or pressed into the mattress with the end of your cock being the closer. 

“I know that look.” You dip your head down at the familiar sight, hands scooching her to the edge of the counter as you feel her ankles hook your backside loosely. “The guilt trip isn’t gonna work on me today honey, sorry.” 

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes at that, and blinks. She has this kind of tendency no matter what given situation it may be, for her to let the eyes lock onto something over your shoulder or let the mind just wander. It’s only for a few seconds and nothing more than that, but with the way that her fingers curl around your neck again, darting her eyes back towards you, signaling to something. 

“Not letting me go, are you?” You prompt. 

“Are you sure you can’t call off again?” Chaeryeong reels you in with the pull of her knees, smiling at the dry laugh leaving your lips. “Please? For me?” 

So you lower your guard, tip your head downwards to get those first tastes of her lips. She tastes like coffee, and you’re probably sure that there’s a little bit of ketchup stuck on the outer room of her bottom lip. 

You’ll be partial to the playfulness that Chaeryeong exerts, the seemingless gravity that makes everyday worth treading through. If you roll your eyes at her, she’ll do the same thing, because that’s the kind of person that Chaeyeyong is: someone who gets what she wants, even when the common denominator of all things is you. 

She’s an easy person to let by. Frankly, you’re quite the opposite. 

You like when she has a little bit of an attitude towards you, riling her up and pressing all the right buttons with all this teasing and the usual back and forth banter that ends up with a flying hand to a shoulder or face, but you love when she does that - consider it to be a hidden charm.

“Not today, princess,” you finally answer, a finger treating the corner of your lip as you quickly glance at Chaeryeong wetting her lips some more leaning again but you’re pulling back just a bit just to get the funny little shake she does with her arms when she’s being messed with. “As much as I love to, I’ve got some stuff to be done today.” 

“Like what?” Chaeryeong asks, using her hands to shake your waist in place, kind of like a little kid throwing a tantrum in the middle of the grocery store, her whining tone a further emphasis. “If you don’t go in, then-”

“My manager would be on my ass,” you answer for one. “Plus, our project would be pushed back a bit. Worst case scenario: I could get fired since this is the third time in the past two weeks where I had to call off.” 

“That won’t happen.” 

“You’re right, but I could lose my job if we keep this up. We would lose one of our primary sources of income. Bills won’t be paid, no groceries - imagine the house goes too, now that would be tragic.” 

Chaeryeong listens dutifully, but her grip is still somewhat tight on you. 

“Is that enough to sway you, my dear?” you ask, thumbs massaging the back of her (your) dress shirt that she’s practically swimming in all of it’s unbuttoned glory. And Chaeryeong here leans her head towards the bridge of her left collarbone, retreating a hand back firmly onto the counter. That same side also opened up a bit to where you could see more of her exposed chest right down the middle. Her thoughts are in order, and her right hand is sending the clear message. 

She’s not letting go. 

“Tempting,” is what she gives, her voice a bit off, not exactly defeated nor depressed, but firm. She’s pulling you in the more she leans back, flashing those pleading eyes with the hint of lust hidden beneath them. “I guess you can be on time for once.” 

Well, fuck it. What’s one more earful from your boss later today when you come in? 

Whether or not it’s your fault or Chaeryeong’s will be decided sometime later, but it doesn’t take any more of an ounce in your mind when her arms wrap around the broad shape of your back, feeling the heat of her cheeks grow with every passing second as you’re picking up on the familiar rhythms and movements from last night’s escapades. Through all the hot, slick mouths to the consuming presses of your faces against each other, you’re doubling down your efforts when you lay her across the marble as she tugs your hair gently. 

Chaeryeong gets a single leg wrapped around your waist as she shimmies herself down a bit to where the tent of your pants is, the slight raise of her hips hoping to be satisfied with an early form of friction to get a feel of the real thing following the next couple of minutes. You pull back with an audible smack off of her small, plump lips. “Figured you changed your mind?” She asks, and the lazy smirk she pulls is nothing short of playing calm and collected as you snake a hand beneath the dress shirt, feeling up the cold skin since the lack of layers is playing to her disadvantage. “That look in your eyes says ‘yes’ to me.” 

“You’re not really offering me much choice here,” you’re saying, thumb grazing the curve of her underboob. Chaeryeong never likes wearing clothes in the morning unless it's just her underwear. Today was certainly no exception. 

The more you sink your body onto Chaeryeong’s, the more you’re starting to become more familiar with the sloping curves and lines of her body that your fingers glide over - she’s tightening the noose that’s formed within her arms, slithering along with the additional pull of her ankle pressed into the posterior of your thigh. 

It’s the question she asks so innocently, even when her actions don’t really speak for her words: 

“I’m always offering you a choice here, babe.” You consider that to every avenue possible, even when you’re bent over the kitchen counter with your girlfriend under you, and she isn’t wrong in this case either. There’s always a choice for you to hide away from the rest of the world with her without having repercussions. There’s always a choice to follow when you’re making her cum over and over and over until the eventual trade off happens in emptying yourself, heaving and exhausted only for the cycle to repeat again not long after. “You just have to think critically here.” 

“Which I am,” you’re telling her, a stray finger sweeping the strand of hair stuck to the side of her cheek, meticulously tracing every fine detail along the line of her profile, studying and admiring the beauty right in front of your eyes, where the appearance is all natural and without the added effects of lighting and makeup. 

It isn’t any different, this gaze you’re bearing. Call it straight out of a romantic movie, the way that you wait at the bottom steps of Chaeryeong’s office building, waiting for her to get out at approximately five o’clock every day of the week and when she does get out, the glint in your eyes and pretty much everything around just seems to bright up instantly as she gracefully makes her way down like that typical Cinderella story, expect that both of her heels stay on throughout the whole time, but you’d love to put the heel back with it’s rightful owner if it came to that. A fairytale story imitated in real life. You would love to be stuck in that little world with her no matter where it takes you, exploring and sharing the new experiences because she’ll be there right at your side. 

But if it’s during the late nights or mornings like these, it usually entails a different story entirely. 

Chaeryeong knows what she’s doing at times when you’re up late writing reports or getting those late night reads. You know what she does to you in the mornings especially after a night out with her limbs bundled up all over you beneath the sheets - the eventual mixup culminated after you’ve rucked your fingers deep into her hair, her skin, until she’s a whimpering and whining mess in the dim lights, muscles having a mind and memory of their own in making her feel good. All of this was led from the subtitles advances, the taunts, the hushed whispers of what she would do to you or vice versa. 

The wavelength is well connected, you’re still looking deep past those whisky irises of hers, a shimmering sparkle lying beneath as she pulls a lazy smile at the corner of her lip. 

“Wanna know what I’m thinking about right now? You ask, pressing your head across the underside of Chaeryeong’s jaw and at the top of her neck. As if it were second nature or just practiced, she inhales deep, arches her back up and away from the counter, giving leeway for your arms as she grasps you close. Closer. As if she’ll melt right into your skin then and there. She’ll want more of you. The touches, the kisses, just anything of substance that makes her feel amazing. Your nose gets filled up with that sea breeze scent from her shampoo the other night, nuzzling at the tilt of her chin when you’re saying, “Forget about work, it’s just you, you, you. It’s all about you.” 

“That’s flattering,” Chaeryeong says, moving her head when your lips continue to canvas across the slender column of her neck, leaving her with these quick gasps as her body shivers beneath the dress shirt. “You’re like- so crazy about me. It’s a bit concerning, but when you’re equally insane as me-” 

“Chaery,” you say, and even with the low timbre your voice is presented with, it does something to her head, the way her eyes flutter at her own name. The sigh she lets out is heavenly. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.” 

And here you catch wind of Chaeryeong doubling back on the defensive, her face flushed as her eyes are fixated on your face again, the breathing suddenly getting irregular but only for just a second - her position is rapidly deteriorating when she averts her gaze away from yours, like she wasn’t the one who swiped your dress shirt for her to put on while you were in the shower, the way she sat so leisurely on the kitchen counter as you wrap up breakfast, and the fact that she got on top of you before you even did all that, fluttering her pussy lips across your growing cock in the hope that you’d give her a quickie. 

But here she is, splayed across beneath you. It didn’t matter whether it’d be on the couch, the floor, the bathroom floor, the mattress; anywhere you go, there’s a certain hierarchy to be followed. “God, you’re so effortless with it. You-” 

You’re shaking your head here, the air leaving your nostrils hitting right above her lips as you slide your right hand down her waist starts this little aftershock effect of shuddering when your fingertips start to dance along the lacy elastic of her panties, her legs moving with unease as she’s anticipating the inevitable creaming and jutting her hips for more. She hates the teasing to an extent, but knows that you’ll play into her game before she lets you have free reign. “Keep telling me what I want to hear, babe. It’s okay.” 

Chaeryeong however, when the right moment matters the most, doesn’t say anything. The only thing coming out of her mouth is another moan when you’ve got a handful of her ass on your palm, pressing your lips and nose deeper into her neck again. Your weight is pressing deeper to the lower half of her body as she manages to get her other leg wrapped around your waist as her lips capture yours, pulling and biting the slick parts to get more out of you. The desperation. She wants it. She needs it. You could agree with the craving aspect all by itself. 

“Not hearing anything from you,” you mutter as your lips slide across hers, dragging your hand in this perpendicular motion that catches her panties at the edge, moving it down as the cloth goes along with it. She’s still shifting about underneath, a bit erratic though it fits her so well. You don’t have to say an inkling of praise as to how good she looks when she doesn’t get what she wants. No point in telling because you’ll spread her legs apart and give exactly what she needs before she can even put in a proper request. 

“Bitch,” Chaeryeong hisses, the line of her spine jagged in a weird formation as she tilts her head back, muscles tensing as the hooks of your arms really do their work as intended. “Don’t- Don’t do this shit with me. I know what you’re doing.” 

Part of the dress shirt falls past her shoulder. Her chest opens up to you as your head goes a bit lower past her neck, letting the pale skin stretch below as the hand focusing on her panties reaches to her thighs. Almost on impulse, probably instinctually, her legs open up revealing the usual site of damage waiting to be bombarded on again, hips moving out of their own will as she keeps on fidgeting at your touch. 

Normally you’d be off to work around this time, or hit the front door in the main lobby, but not today. “Doing what, exactly?” you reiterate, fingers grazing her inner thigh as the panties eventually get discarded from her legs with all the moving that she keeps on doing, the bottom of your wrist hitting her aching lips on accident (calculated, actually), “Cause from the looks of it, I’m not doing anything wrong here.” You can’t really help yourself in these types of situations: the teasing, being playful with all of the nonchalance of talking. The first pressure point was the cursing, and that’s already done. What follows with that first barrier cracking in front of your eyes would be all of the swearing and the lovely pleads of her begging - giving it to her like she deserves, in the arched backs, the press of her calf on the small of your back, her toes curling, fingers digging into the back of your head, letting her vocal cords sing as you’re filling every single bit of her fantasy of the kind of unfathomable sex that kind of feels a bit unrealistic; though it’s real, all of it. Like you’re good at reading all of the signs and lines that the body gives without any additional help at all. “I’m just getting you ready. Exactly in the way that you want.” 

Boom. Bullseye. Chaeryeong knows all too well, and she’s yours. Her eyes roll back as the upper profile of her teeth catches her swollen bottom lip, because it’s a rinse and repeat of the countless times that you’ve fucked her over and over with your tongue, your lips, your cock. She’ll keep spilling out these praises and swears of you carrying her to bed, or dragging her at times, all of the good and bad things that she’ll late on forget when you’re burying her into the mattress or letting her ride you out in the open air. You’ll be her enemy, and she’ll be yours. But here’s the thing: it cuts both ways. 

She gets a nail or two into your nape, a bit too deep, another mark of dishonor. The growl rumbling in your throat finds its way into the upper profile of her chest, but the return of delight coming from Chaeryeong serves as the proper antithesis that cancels it out completely. “Look at you,” you drawl, “I can see the fucking glisten from up here.” 

Chaeryeong manages to get an elbow up for stability, leaning back as you find the grooves to grip into her waist, holding the bottom of her thighs with your hips as they finally rest at the edge of the counter. 

Your hand works behind the scenes as Chaeryeong keeps her lidded eyes up, just barely. “You-” Is a firm attempt for her to reply to your remark, but when the root of your palm presses down onto her heat, she moves up on reflex, wanting that roughness in the lines to momentarily sate the growing want with every small shift. Her voice hides well under her loud breaths, and all she mumbles off of her lips is a very timid, “need.” 

There’s a fair share of sights you’ll drink your eyes into for as long as you need. Oddly enough, the displeasure of making Chaeryeong wait, to whittle her down into nothing less than just impatience and desperation - it’s adorable, because this is payback for what she did to you the night before. 

You remain stoic, unfazed. Her eyes keep focusing and unfocusing as her chin goes low, looking up. 

“Gotta help me out here, love,” you adjust, swaying your head from side to side slowly as you ease up with another kiss or two, leaving nothing untouched with the soft presses until you figure enough is enough for the time being. “What is it that you need?” 

She inhales deeply. Collecting her thoughts. Her favorite kind of truth serum: the neediness. “Need you to feel me.” 

“Need me to fix you up,” you rephrase, allowing her a small victory when her arms pull you in again, the taste of your lips too addicting to ignore, holding her close at the waist that makes her stop abruptly. “Make you cum so hard that you’re aching for more.” 

The nods she makes are frantic, and you can see the lump in her throat roll downwards as she leans up for another quick kiss to your chin. 

“Please baby.” Chaeryeong’s drawing another sharp inhale into her chest when you pick her up off the counter, sitting her upright. Some of her hair catches your cheek, just by a few strands, but she takes this opportunity to recount and compose herself. “For me.” 

“You’re pretty,” you huff into her ear and she hums this nice tone against her throat when you’ve slid her right at the edge of the counter, easing up the tension in her body when you flip your fingertips at the growing warmth between her legs. She does the easy part all by herself when she slips out of the dress shirt even more, the bottom part of the cloth rumpling across the smooth surface behind her. “I’ll give you exactly what you need.” 

She’s nodding against your ear, you’re smiling deep into her hair. This is the best way to start the morning. 

When the two pads of your fingertips make that first dip into her cunt, she’s clutching onto you like her life depends on it. Like the shackles of every chain of common sense she had left finally severed. She hisses again, you realize how wet she’s really gotten, the ruts she continues on doing only makes that craving even more deserving to satisfy. 

The quick murmur of a ‘fuck’ doesn’t go unoticed when you’re calculating every move your finger makes as it inches further down the soaking trenches of her cunt. It’s all in the right amounts of pressure, the curls, inching deeper and deeper to elicit these beautiful hymns of pleasure infecting your ears. She’s spreading herself winder, mirroring the stretch of her pussy lips when you finally give her that fill that she’s been wanting all morning. You’ve got all three knuckles up inside her, each move makes her pussy gush around your fingers as you pick up the pace a bit. 

Chaeryeong isn’t one to just sit and let anyone do the work for her. She equally wants the effort just as much as you, rolling her hips into your hand as you’re dividing and conquering her body with another fast shower of kisses across her neck and chest. In the ‘ahh’s’ and ‘mmm’s’ and ‘mhm’s’ brings her closer to the edge that she oh so yearns for. Only you can pull it off and out of her in record time. 

Her fingers keep traversing into your hair, until you’ve got her in that lecherous spot to where her head shoots back in a momentary shock and buries her chin into the crater where your collarbone is as you can picture the crinkle in her eyebrows. She coos when she feels the ends of your teeth nibble over her neck, adding onto the catalog of bruises from the night prior and where the concealer will have to work a little bit harder when she goes out later in the week. 

And you curl your fingers right before the opening, and the thumb on her clit throws itself into the mix. A pinch happens somewhere here too. You’re closing in on the staggered breathing that steadies itself as the wetness starts to seep into your hand. She knows she’s close, and you know her better than anyone when she finally reaches the first layer of her orgasm, holding her at the rim of her ass as the bottoms of her thighs slide across the counter. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” you’re whispering amidst the sucking gasps of her rapture. Her head faces up towards the ceiling, her eyes roll back before they’re fading behind her eyelids. “Some wiggle room as you’re cumming. Thank me later.” 

Chaeryeong keeps her lower half moving as she manages to pull your head back so that you can make eye contact with her. Those fucking eyes. The mocha shade of them focusing and unfocusing as her jaw slackens, the shade in her cheeks flushed as you’re grinning of her sought-after reward. You’re pretty sure that she’s mouthing a ‘thank you’, but the whines fill in as the harmonious sound to which you nod at how proud you are of your own handiwork. 

She’s riding herself without a single care in the world, chest heaving so high and low deep as the heat’s already spread out to every part in her body. 

When you do eventually draw your fingers back from her pussy, there’s a slight coat covering them as you take the time to indulge with your tongue all over them, making her watch as you’re wiping the mess off of your lips. You’re evil, but not that evil. You give her the good grace of making Chaeryeong taste herself, lips and tongue quick to pick up on the spots where you didn’t treat on purpose, watching as she sucks and licks her own slick off that brings a familiar image to foreshadow. The mess. The sloppiness of her. She’s perfect. 

You stare for a little too long as she comes down from that deserved high. Her tongue wetting her lips from the aftertaste. She leans back a bit, watches you breathe out the exhaustion as a twinkle shines in her eyes - another spark - gets both hands on the rim of the counter and lets herself down. She’s a few inches shorter than you. Her forehead right at the end of your chin, and here she looks up. It’s like this optical illusion, how she starts to shrink right in front of your eyes. 

She sinks down slowly, dropping to her knees, hands at the front of your pants, pulling them. 

You can’t let her have a head start, so you don’t even think twice about what she wants next.

It all comes in a black flash. A spring forward in time. She’s on her knees with a finger wrapped around the base of your cock, tongue sweeping the underside as she works her way up the shaft, the heat and slickness of her mouth leaving a trail of her until she’s at the end of it. 

“Chaery,” you hiss, eyes fixated at the sight of her pouty lips lathering up your cock in her spit, watching as she gently bobs her way down the line, slurping and hollowing her cheeks to her heart’s content. “Fuck- fucking hell. God-” 

A pull back with the graze of her teeth is one thing. The swirling tip of her tongue over the head of your cock is another. Then there’s the effortless dive all the way down at the base. She’s unbridled to do whatever she wants to you, and you would be okay with that. The look up with those doe eyes of hers - and the fucking cross-eyed expression with them does something to your neurons. 

She puts most of her hair behind her head while you rest your hand on top, burying your fingers in them. Chaeryeong hums as you test the first thrust of your hips slowly into the choking heat of your mouth. Bit by bit, she takes every inch of you with ease. 

You’ll get your face between her legs, it’s already happened. 

You’ll get your cock deep into the hollow of her throat, it’s happening right now. 

Fuck, and when you pull out to smack the head of your cock across her lips before you see her eyes go wide to that repeated deepthroat motion, she’ll take it well and you’re sure of it. 

Doesn’t change the impending outcome whatsoever: you’re still going to be late. 

You’re surprised at how the dress shirt has managed to stay on Chaeryeong’s body this entire time, hitting the back of her mouth with obscene precision. She’s giving you this sort of payback when her hands hook to the back of your thighs; they go a bit higher to rest on your ass as she relaxes her throat, resting your cock into the cyclonic heat in every passing stroke. 

She gags a bit for a second, the puff of her cheeks letting you know that the choke is a positive implication, and you gasp in surprise. 

Her heavenly locks are even messier than they were before, when you’re pumping yourself into her mouth, holding her still to prolong the amazing feeling she has over your cock. The sounds she makes happened the morning before when your body decided to have a mind of its own, in response of the cold air to which Chaeryeong accepted the gift wholeheartedly: fucking her mouth until you’ve got your cum spilling out the corners of her mouth and a few spurts painting her cheek soon after - it isn’t any different here.

You could cum right here, right now, and she’d be happy with the result. 

But when her eyes drop low, dead in the water, hazy, the puff up of your chest prepares you for the worst. 

She hums. Her mouth slips across your hard length slowly, meticulously. The little notion of control takes over when she drags her lips across the sensitive surface with so much care - so much detail, the grip you have in her hair only makes it much more excruciatingly difficult to keep yourself upright, in the buckling of your knees every few other seconds. You’re not simple to take on, and where she’s gargling all over the length, she diverts some of her attention to your balls soon after, nails lighty dragging across the ridges as you nudge down deeper into the opening inside. 

“Umgph,” she finally says when nothing is said except for the leaking gags coming out of her throat, and you’re starting to feel a tad bit dizzier. 

You drag yourself out, pull a bit too hard where the roots of her hair are tangled along with your fingers, and she looks up, a third of your cock sticks out to the inside of her cheek, then her eyes roll back. The hollow she does with her cheeks, the suction- the fucking suction. 

“Jesus girl,” you taunt, almost defensively. “Fuck. Love it when you do that.” 

“Mmph,” she hums, nodding with your tip captured between her lips still. She does a few additional bobs as the clutch of your fingers starts to loosen over her head, slipping, retreats a second later. “Was that enough to convince you to stay?”

The way that you bend yourself down, reach to her level. Her fingers slide over your wrists while your hands get her face in between them, pulling the old bag of tricks and kisses - pulling and biting and sucking off the slop, melding every little part of her towards you. Everything starts to fade out from the outside, as if you’re sinking down deeper into the never ending abyss that’s Chaeryeong. 

Except, she’s the one who pulls away first - not you. The irregular breathing returns after a short stint away, hot and haphazardly, rising up from the floor with a hand quickly wrapped around your cock still. “Maybe you need a little bit more persuading.” 

“I’m all ears,” you tell her, willingly. 

“Really? Okay then. Couch.” 

Your cock is tethered between her fingers, following along to the hypnotic fashion in the movement of her hips. She’s gliding along the hardwood floors on the balls of her feet, humming along shamelessly until you find yourself in a usual territory, just a few steps away from the first battleground. Chaeryeong doesn’t let up with the racking of your brain when she twirls around and captures your lips with hers, her hand languidly sliding along your slick cock that shuffles an influx of these scattered breaths to where she’s smiling into your parted lips. Though, she pushes you onto the cushions of the couch, straddling you as she cradles the back of your head so gently, to where you’re looking up and the only things you can feel are the stray strands in her hair brushing along the side of your face as your lips are under attack again. 

But your hands have their own ideas in mind, acting as an additional weight to her hips, your cock twitching when the outer rim of her puffy pussy lips, making your lips and hers buck on impulse from the contact, chuckling at the twitch. 

“I think teasing you would be better,” she suggests, finally letting herself rest on top of you, the wetness staining the underside of your length, gasping a bit when she realizes that the growth of your cock actually feels a bit thicker than usual. “Wow babe, oh- god. Did you-” 

“Could say that I’m properly convinced,” you sigh, dropping your head back when she slides up a tad bit- jesus. 

And Chaeryeong nods at the resolve, leaning her head to the left as she manages to get a hand underneath your chin, hips moving dangerously slow on purpose. This can be an agenda of sorts, the usual wake-up routine that you would have no problem in following. Until one of you wants to tear the page to start something anew; you could have the ending of digging your cock deep into her until she’s shaking her head for more. 

“Had I done enough already?” she then asks, the drag of her lips past the corner of your mouth, her breath enchanting enough for you to pass out figuratively. 

“I’m passive to changing my mind. But seriously, Chaery, your fucking hips-” 

She hums and nods, grinding down your cock a bit more harshly. Anything that she does would be enough to make you snap. 

“Don’t think too hard about this.” Chaeryeong grins, her soft chuckle in the open space between your lips and hers. It’s a brief moment of embrace - the intimacy - something that happens effortlessly without even the move of a muscle or nerve. You kiss her again, trying to do everything in your power to not give a shrivel of attention in the way that she grinds her pussy over your cock. A tongue gets swept across your lower lip, followed by another sharp inhale; she’s happily skating along your length, makes your eyes drop low, and your head feels dizzy. Only when she pulls away, brushes the tip of her nose against yours, biting her lip down and breathing, “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” 

Your only logical choice here is to look up, watch Chaeryeong’s face as she licks her fingers, runs them through her folds a few times, grabbing your cock carefully and runs your tip across the first waves of heat, sponging up the soakage as she lets herself down; she slides down to a third - right above the halfway point, and sinks soon after. 

Her cunt molds around your cock perfectly. At the mere fit of her, your lower half twitches in response. She rests for a second as her eyelids drop from above, frozen. You’re positive that you can’t move either; neither of you want to, because everything pretty much made sense in the moment alone, making you forget about everything else. 

“Slow,” you’re telling her, thumbs resting at the creases of her hip. “Slow.”  The anchor of your hands to her impossibly small waist guides her in the same motion she was doing a few minutes ago, gyrating her pussy down to the base of your cock. And then she rises, drops her ass onto your balls and the rebound transfers over to your thighs. “Yeah, right there. Good girl.” 

Chaeryeong does the same motion again, and slams her ass down. She repeats it, and the second time you’re thrusting up a bit to reduce the impact, but the weight on top of you becomes a bit unbearable, and you’re filling the crater of the cushion once more. You’re going to be fucked, the same can be said for her too; it’s a competition as to who can reach their edge first, or at the very least, who can get so needy for their own release that all bets are thrown off the table and one of you will just fuck the other into oblivion. 

“Every fucking time,” she curses, her body almost levitating over your hips at this point. You’re biting down the groan ripping between your vocal cords, each one more aggressive than the last. That’s what she’s working towards - to break you both mentally and physically - bringing out that side of you that’s mere putty one second, make the complete one-eighty to flip her over and make her suffocate through the cushions. You can feel it in the audible slaps her legs sound against yours, the drag of her unbelievably tight pussy piloting the usual aches back to the forefront, unraveling the slack as you struggle to keep it altogether. “Ugh. Amazing.” 

“Chaeryeong,” you sputter out, and this in one of the few rare instances where you’re saying her name properly, and the sight above is always something to get lost into; her head falls forward, shielding the sly smirk and whimpering whines leaking out of her lips. She throws her head back when you’re yanking her back down onto your throbbing length - a test run, an assessment. The way that she fits all around you is second to none, the smoothness and intuition to double down serves as a dangerous addiction that you see yourself relapsing in no time flat. “Hold yourself down here, close to me. Bounce on my fucking cock - shit, just like that.” 

She nods, her upper half finding a hold as she lets the other do it’s thing, moaning mindlessly and all of the good things about how your cock fills her up so easily. The desperation, the hint of panic, that natural instinct of wanting to be fucked, drench your cock with her slick any chance she can get like right now. Her huffs are starting to pick up in pitch as your hands play second fiddle of driving yourself into her as deep as you can get it, and you start to feel your eyelids drooping while the sounds of her thighs start to fade out between your ears. Keeping it together here was never the option. And she holds herself down at the hilt, grinds a bit once you’ve bottomed her out, gyrating your embedded cock as the press of your fingers starts transforming into this claw-like grip. 

Innovative as she is, Chaeryeong moves her legs a bit, plants her feet onto the seat of the couch. Your hands find their way to the underside of her thighs, raising up the intensity with the same motion as before. 

“S’that feel good, baby?” She asks sweetly, innocently. “Your fucking cock feels so good. I could live like this if I wanted to. 

You’ve reduced yourself to nods. There’s nothing left to be said, this indescribable feeling.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” The assurance is cute, but with her pretty little body in the form that it is, the flushed face and heaving coming out of her chest almost undermines the appearance entirely. 

So you’re back to the drawing board. Square one. Chaeryeong is an endless bundle of lust when she squats down on your cock again, doing exactly as she said. She’s fucking you relentlessly as the entire frame of her body plays victim to the aftershocks of your cock and hips; the crash sending a ripple effect of her ass, her thighs, her tits, all shaking up in different paces of motion, and the feeling is the same result every time. 

Everything starts to stir within your body, nearing that eventual end that you and her have been working towards, breaking her body down in endless spires of nerves, right until the very second where she’s clenching around your cock, cumming on your waist. She’s holding herself down to you again, hips moving in this counter-clockwise motion, hoping to reduce the overbearing sensation when she’s peaking again, biting down her scream. It’s in the cinches of her face, the patchwork of scratches forming across your neck and shoulders, the signs of a pretty girl losing their mind over a good dick, wanting to have more like she depends on it. 

“Look at you, baby,” you appraise, combing a handful of her hair as you keep up the stable pace of upward thrusts into her cunt. You know how this story goes - how it’ll be from here on out, where Chaeryeong can’t even come up with the right words on the tip of her tongue, when she’s all fucked out where she can’t even think straight, lets you take the reins away from her. It’s a bit of a facade when she’s holding your neck by the arms, the kind of hug in a reunion after for being away for so long, palms pressing down on the small of her back as you get yourself in the prime position to really fuck her in the way that she knows and likes. The inside of her knees squeeze the outer rim of your legs, holding herself in palace as you get the right angle to the degree, fuck her through and through until she’s screaming and cumming the absolute mess out her. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. Just relax. Let me.” 

Chaeryeong sighs into your collarbone, resting her lips across the skin. You zero in on the imaginary line that you’ve created in your head, gliding into her tight hole. The sound of her slick getting louder and louder with every harsh thrust. There’s also a hint of care in the back of your mind: to not let her squirt over the cushions, since that’ll be another hassle to handle once all of this is over until the next round. 

You’re pulling a lazy grin at the corner of your mouth again, and she takes notice, an airy laugh following soon after. Chaeryeong knows that look all too well. She lives to see that look each and every time - to shake your goodwill down and morphing it into mere impulses of her infectious lust, the rawness of which you’ll completely forget what you were doing minutes prior as you’re only fixated on pounding her cunt to where she’ll beg for more, wail when she hasn’t had enough, just a full on fledged mess. Just when she’s got a few scraps of sense back into her head, she pulls her head sideways, and a siren’s call passes her lips, “do it, want to feel all of you.” 

Well, you’ll do just that. Chaeryeong’s body is one with yours, her hot breath flushing over your neck, peppering your cheek with kisses and huffing out these sorrowful gasps every stroke your cock does inside her, ripping apart every ounce of self control you have left to give. You’ll bask in the glorifying graces of her rapid cunt tearing your cock, the melting heat amidst the heaven that space between her thighs possesses - each passing movement more addictive as you’re pistoning your cock into her pussy - you’ll fuck her well, you’ll fuck her right. The clench she has on you is too strong, and it’s gotten so fucking simple for her to slide from the head of your cock to where your balls is at. She’ll ride you like there’s no tomorrow, and you would be fine with that. 

Harder. Deeper. She whispers into your ear, gasping out more with utter desperation, the voice wracked with pure pleasure, though still stable above the constant slaps your balls and thighs make against her ass; the begging hasn’t stopped too, and she really just wants one thing here from you. She can easily tell that you’re at the edge, the muscles along your cock and around your waist are contracting and relaxing in all the right areas. “Fuck your cum into me, baby. I want it. I want it bad. This pussy is yours. Yours. Own it like you mean it, I want it right in my fucking stomach.” 

‘Chae, fuck-” You bite down hard, drag your teeth against themselves. She’s fucking insane. Her pressure is too much on one point, actually on many points. Your mind and body are out of sync - everything all at once is too much to handle. You’ve got no control anymore. “-your pussy, feels wonderful.” 

“I know, I know,” she coos, managing to get a thumb across your bottom lip, fingers sliding across your cheek, barely keeping it together from the high ground. Her eyes go cross again, jaw slack when your cock drives itself deep into her sopping socket. “Can feel you throbbing. Fuck me. Fuck my pretty little pussy.” 

Your stomach collapses, and you manage to get a few more good thrusts in. “Chaer- god.” 

She slams her ass back down as you hold her there, cumming into her cunt. The first few pulses are lethal, and you’re pretty sure you’re seeing white in your head.

“Shh, there we go.” Chaeryeong sighs, hushing you with a palm over your mouth, muffling out the listless groans and curses that are trapped deep within your lexicon. “Can feel your cum- oh my god, it’s so much.” She’s still clamped well around your cock, squeezing you dry and the lazy follow up thrusts wrings out the last savoring pulses of cum where you can get it. The throbbing hotness finally taking rest within her slick. 

Though she doesn’t take herself off from you right away, and you’re not bothering the idea of pulling out, because she’s meant to stay where she’s at. Her hips continue to massage your cock inside of her as you’re doing your best to come down from your high. You and her mesh the heavy breathing, the exhaustion washing over you as the lustful aura starts to fade away. 

Chaeryeong places her head right next to yours, lightly scratching the back of your head as she lazily looks up to the low hum of your phone vibrating on the kitchen counter. 

“I think that’s your boss calling,” she tells you, placing a kiss to your temple, hips slowly grinding against yours to keep your focus on her, a foreshadow of what’s yet to come, “You should probably tell him that you’re coming in late.” 

[fishnapple]

You in their eyes, how do they see you?

(Future spouse/partner/lover)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

MAELSTROM

• Spirit animal: Turtle

You're a balanced combination of both soft, mysterious energy and firm, assertive energy. They can definitely see that you have mental compatibility with each other. Words flow between you effortlessly, conversations would take hours without anyone noticing time was flying by. They can talk about anything with you without fear of judgement and misunderstanding. You stimulate their mind, and when conflicts arise, you can discuss them logically with clarity without letting emotions take over you. This make problems solving between you and them easier, leaving less space for resentment and unresolved feelings.

You seem reserved and quiet in their eyes. Your display of emotions and affection is subtle and intuitive, a quiet devotion that embraces them every day without suffocating them. Though, sometimes, they would have difficulties in trying to decipher your deeper feelings, to understand you at your core, the part that you conceal from them.

But they admire your ability to embrace your inner child fully. They know that this didn't come naturally for you, there's a journey behind it, lessons and hardship you had to go through in order to protect and bring your inner child to the world, no matter how you're perceived. They love this courage, this fearless attitude when you have to face people's opinions, you don't let yourself be swayed by them. Sometimes, you can even be rebellious. But the funny thing is, the more you fight, the more rebellious you're, the more attractive you're in their eyes. And it's not like you go about it in an aggressive and confrontional method. You do you, unapologetically, like a child unaware of how seemingly "odd" their behaviour is in other's eyes. But they know you're not childish. Behind that oblivious attitude is a strong sense of self, a wise person, ruling their own inner kingdom with iron fists. Like a ballerina, their movements can be so graceful only because they've spent endless hours discipline themselves and practised.

Sometimes, they can think that you're being too engrossed in the pursuit of material achievements, like you're always in preparation mode for some disasters looming in the distant future. Greedy might be too strong of a word, but they can view you as materialistic or have a mindset of lack. They understand that material security is very important to you. You need to feel a strong foundation under your feet to feel safe. That can make you overwork yourself to the point of exhaustion, always looking for the next thing to do. But they can see you putting that same effort in making the relationship work, you care about them and are willing to take care of things to make their life easier. They will feel that you're always there when they need you, your presence is a constant that is very much needed in their life. They would feel empty, a part of them is missing when you're away.

SEA FOAM

• Spirit animal: Fish

They think you're their good karma (if you believe in the concept of karma) or a reward, a surprise given to them by some higher powers. I see the image of someone being ushered into someone's life. Both parties can be quite reluctant at first, but as fate has it, you and them need to be together. There's a heavy element of fatefulness in this connection, or so that's how they see it. You are destined to love each other, no matter how much both of you try to deny or run away from it.

I think you will be the one who does the running away in the beginning. You seem "hard to catch", like trying to catch a fish with their bare hands. You would fleet in and out of their life at first, they can't seem to figure you out. But your presence will be a pushing force in their life, pushing them into a different direction, to where they are afraid to tread but secretly wish to.

In their eyes, you can be a little immature or temperamental, acting on whims of the moment. This makes you exciting and unique but sometimes, also agitating and hard to pin down. It's like they're torn between the feeling of love and frustration for you. Their personality probably is more serious and intense than yours. They want to be in the deep water with their lover, but you seem to refuse to swim there with them. But they will always want to care for you, to protect you from the harsh world outside.

The way you talk and act just exudes a young and pure energy, as of someone who, just for the first time, allowed to go outside to explore. You might talk a lot (compare to them), you ask questions, sometimes funny one, sometimes philosophical one, sometimes silly one. They will like to indulge you, patiently answer each one of your questions, then sometimes they can get irritated and start to lecture you, to that, you will just ask more questions. You want to learn, to understand this world. Behind that seemingly busy bee mind is a yearning to explore, to be free and soaring. And even if they can't fly with you, they sure will gather all the winds to lift your wings, instead of trying to pull you down into their water (who's the fish here?).

Your habits might be a little more messy or undisciplined compared to this person. You seem confused lots of times and don't have a good grasp of how to navigate your daily life efficiently, yet miraculously, you still swim through life effortlessly, much to their amazement. You don't fret too much about the future, somehow always arrive at the desired destination on time, things just work out for you, as if you just need to focus on taking good care of yourself and be contented, the rest will be taken care of for you by some mysterious force. This contrasts sharply with their approach to life, always planning ahead, always wanting to control the outcome. This creates a complementary dynamic between you two. Where you need structure, they provide, where they need spontaneity, you provide. In the end, no matter how different you guys are, you just fit each other neatly, like puzzle pieces.

SANDSTORM

• Spirit animal: Swan

They just know that you're the perfect partner for them, the one they need to get married to or at least make a serious, long-term commitment. You just possess all the qualities they seek in a spouse, the thought of committing probably will appear in their mind early on. You have a natural ability to understand them, nurture and protect them, at the same time, be a reliable pillar of strength for them. You are serious in your commitment, never take feelings for granted, you date with marriage as end goal in mind. They also think you would make a good parent, someone with enough tenderness and discipline to raise children with good balance.

Your work might involve lots of travelling and communicating. They can see that these are prominent parts of your life, demanding a large chunk of your time. They think that you tend to overwork yourself, being too engrossed in working, you're always busy, I wonder if this also means that you don't spend enough time with them, they feel like they have to demand for your time, to take you away from whatever is bothering your mind. Security is very important to you, you need to feel abundant to feel safe, yet they think you hardly ever feel that way, hence the constant working. They will want to help you in this area, just like how you help them. You mirror each other, in energy, in intentions, both of you want to care for each other in the same way as the other person does.

They probably like to hear your voice, be it talking, singing, or making other sounds. It feels soothing and calming for them. What you say also brings a new perspective, widening their view about the world. They sometimes see you as a teacher, whom they should listen to and want to be guided by. You just move through life gracefully, always open to new adventure, but still leave space for contemplating deeper meanings about everything. Like a philosopher wandering through life, observing the world, and sharing wisdom with the people. You need to be constantly in motion, travelling, or just moving around, and they're happy to be your companion, though they might sometimes want to slow down and rest a little.

They think you have a lot to uncover. You hide a huge treasure of deep love inside, something too intense for you to confidently show to the world. They would be sad to see you lock your dreams away, and they are willing to help make your dreams come true, if you would just ask them to. Your inner child is also someone they want to get close to. You seem to be disconnected from your inner child. They can feel that you want to connect, but something in your psyche is scaring your inner child away, making them reluctant to join the "family". From the outside, this makes you look a little cold or unaffectionate, you're discreet with your love, only ever bring it out when you completely trust someone.  They would want to reach out their hands and pull your inner child closer, to give your inner child a hug.

DUSK

• Spirit animal: Phoenix

They think that you being in a relationship with them is be a big step away from your past wounds. Not that they want the credit for themselves, but as an admiration for you, for your strength. They can see that you had a great fear concerning relationship and commitment in general. Maybe you have been burnt in the past, childhood baggage, and the bad examples you saw around you made you wary of love. So choosing to be in a relationship with someone, being committed to that person, trusting that person enough to share yourself with them, all of these are really brave actions in their eyes. It shows that you don't let your past hold you back and define you, you rise above it and are willing to change, to choose happiness for yourself.  Sometimes, they would reminisce about the initial getting-to-know-each-other phase, how many obstacles they saw in your connection, and how hard it was for them to gain your trust and affection. They would even tease you for it.

Your life seems to be ridden with changes of direction. You're not meant to stay still in one place, both mentally and physically. Life will always present you some events to push you to move. You can't stay stagnant, if you think you're contented with the current situation, then sure enough, there would be an event, an opportunity appearing in front of you, making you reevaluate your current direction in life. So life with you definitely won't lack movements and changes. Another thing is, you also actively seek to restructure your life. From small hobbies to big life decisions, you can be pretty random and go with the flow. You would change the plan at the last minute, planning to turn left, then suddenly turn right because something caught your attention that made you change your mind. Or some mornings, you would suddenly announce that you will take up a new hobby, register for a dance class, learning new language etc. without prior warning.

Life with you would be busy, you always have something to do, a task to complete, a news to watch, a track to run, a book to read. It's like they can't never see you being still. Maybe that also made them feel like you were afraid of commitment when they first got to know you. They could feel that you're too busy for love. But of course, that's not true, being a busy bee is just who you are, and over time, they've gotten used to it and adapted to it well. That busy energy also shows itself in the way you talk. Maybe you talk a lot, very fast, always have something witty to say. They love your humour, your ability to look at yourself, and joke without being defensive. The way you express your ideas and emotions is clear and rational but not cold. You know when to offer the softest words of encouragement and when to debate with the sharpest points.

They think you like to beautify yourself, you like beautiful things but at the same time you seem to be reluctant to spend on yourself, almost like you're stingy with yourself. Even if you like something, you might rationalise and deny yourself that thing. You want to earn lots of money yet don't feel comfortable spending it, especially for yourself. They know this trait of yours, so they will try to guess your desire and get it for you. You're not stingy with them or everyone, though, you're likely to pour your resources into the people you love and the house you share with them. You might like to beautify the house instead. Which is where you would like to stay a lot. You can seem like a homebody to them (with all the busy work) but you will have to go out and make an appearance in the world and they know the world loves you.

SIERRA

• Spirit animal: Phoenix

If they were the wind, they would lift your wings up as much as they could. Your person sees so much potential in you, so many talents, yet you're limiting yourself with your fears. You have an enormous desire to learn and expand your mind. But you also fear going deeper. You might be the kind of person who learns various subjects simultaneously, has a good grasp of everything, but doesn't dig too deep into any particular subjects. Not because you're shallow or impatient, it's the opposite, you know that once you've engrossed yourself in something, you go all in, it would get to the core really fast, and this drains your time and energy so much, you're reluctant to dive in. You also know that there will be hidden things inside you that need to be uncovered if you were to go any deeper. But they think you have the strength to do this because they understand, deep down, you're much happier when you devote yourself to something.

And they know you devote yourself to them and the relationship. Once you're in a commitment, you take it seriously, you see your life as an entanglement with each other, not just one's own anymore. In a way, you're a team person, someone who has a talent for working with people. This makes being in a relationship with you so much easier. Because you're willing to cooperate and want to make a team effort to build the relationship strong, instead of demanding from a selfish stance.

But you're not a pushover or a people pleaser in their eyes. Your individuality shines intensely. You have no trouble being yourself, you can't help being yourself. Even if you wear normal clothing like everyone else, blending in quietly, you still somehow stand out to them. Like a visible halo around you is beckoning them. They admire your creative energy so much, if they're ever short of ideas, they can always turn to you to get some. If you want to pursue some creative endeavours, they would probably encourage and support you wholeheartedly. Because they believe in you.

They also love your playful side, which you only show to a few close ones, and only in a comfortable space. You appear much more serious in public than when you're with them in private. When you're home with them, you can be tender, childish but also very seductive, you show yourself fully to them. You can act silly, making jokes all the time with them, being competitive in games, or playing pranks on them. But all of those are saved for alone time together. Outside, to the world, you're more uptight, serious. People also respect you a lot, looking up to you like a teacher. What you say probably are well listened to by people. You appear as a wise, mature friend, whom people can come to for sound advice. Your person would sometimes chuckle quietly to themselves whenever they see you out in public or with acquaintances. Those people wouldn't imagine how you would act in private, imagine their reaction when they found out some of your silly jokes. They definitely think you have the world fooled.

RIVER

• Spirit animal: Lamb

You're a quiet presence that haunts their psyche in an inexplicable way. They sometimes can't understand why they're so drawn to you, they have that feeling in their heart, but they can't put it into word. If someone asks your person how they feel about you, they would stumble a bit and would take a long time to come up with a coherent answer. Don't mistake this for their lack of affection or commitment, they just haven't fully comprehended your effect on them. When they hear the question, in their mind, the image of you would be conjured up in so many different ways and different areas, it's like you're everywhere.

They admire your grace under pressure. Your quietness doesn't mean you're meek or naive. Your energy is pure and wise. The hardship you encountered in the past didn't turn you into a bitter and cold person. On the contrary, you developed compassion for other's suffering. Everyone has their own story and they deserve to tell them without shame. Each pain is traded with wisdom. They probably wish to learn a thing or two from your stoicism. You're here, in the present, you don't put your mind to needless worrying nor do you cling to the past.

You're the person they would always turn to when they need an advice, your words have a stabilising effect on them, you make them believe that everything will be okay in the end, that they're safe and sound. You might not talk a lot, superfluous information doesn't interest you, but each word holds values. You can talk about deep and taboo topics without judgement, fear or prejudice. Your person will also love your voice, it sounds tender and calming, though they may wish that you would talk more so that they can hear your voice more.

They do notice, when they've gotten closer to you, that you tend to hold in your anger, you don't want it to affect other people, but your person will worry that this can affect you negatively. You also hold your drive and ambitions close to your chest, refusing to disclose them to others. You work silently, diligently towards your goals. It's like you don't want to show anything too overt, your emotions, your struggle, your passion, they are kept simmering inside, while outwardly, you show a serene and placid disposition.

In love, you show a more relaxed energy to them, like a child finally out of the house after a heavy rain, enjoying the freshness and the earthy scent of everything. You can act a little more erratic with them than when you're with other people. Maybe they adore that side of you or more tolerate towards it. You can be unpredictable, not showing your cards fully. They sometimes have to guess how much you love them, how you feel about them. They can ask you for your opinion about other matters and receive practical and solid answers from you, but when the questions change to the topic of personal feelings and love, you can be elusive. This frustrates them greatly but also pull them to you greatly. You're like the muse and the poet at the same time. And they're your avid reader.

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） STRAWBERRY HEAD.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀a guy with a fun costume flirts with you at a party.

( 엔하이픈 희승 ) ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff meet cute ── flirting skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

지아 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ i am not leaving tumblr everrr don’t worry, luvdolls 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

it always ends up the same. no matter what the conversation is, no matter how it began or where; it always ends up with the same conclusion. why don’t you have a boyfriend, yet?

as always, you groan while tilting your face to the ceiling. like a tradition, it is like you are begging a superior being to end your misery now and just take you before they all start to recall all your failed dates and talking stage over the past few months. it is not like they are that many, anyway.

you can try to tell each one of the people surrounding you that you are not interested in a relationship, that you think boys are fun to mess with but truly useless and that you are fine on your own— they never listen.

you successfully disappear amongst the crowd of diverse book, movie and game characters— and even … fruits? — costumes to get a drink. suddenly feeling very thirsty. 

no one notices you, too hang on debating on your love life when you are not even there to begin with.

pouring something into your glass, you feel someone standing a bit too close to you. 

“hey,” a voice greets you loudly. making your heart jump all the way to your stomach. 

you almost giggle as you turn around; a tall, grown man in a bright red hoodie, the same color as his joggings and a strawberry sort of hat wrapped around his head. 

his voice is way too deep to go with his costume.  

a smile tugs your lips, “hi.”

he smiles back. this time with a much much softer, he tells you back, “hi,” he eyes lingers on your face. “you come here often?”

you actually giggle at that, with your face falling towards the ground, with his face following yours, with his gaze never leaving you as he smirks. 

you cross one arm under your chest and plant your free arm’s elbow in your wrist, holding your drink close to your mouth, “please, don’t tell me that line has ever worked for you,” he chuckles at that, “i wouldn’t stand it.” 

the strawberry head shrugs, “tried and tested true for a reason,” then he leans his shoulder against the wall next to you. 

“what’s your name, bambi?” he asks you, biting down his lip as he smiles. 

the nickname comes from your doe makeup and the little tail on your skirt. looks like you are not the only one who makes nicknames. 

you respond while turning to face him, “what is yours?” 

“heeseung,” you admit it, ‘strawberry head’ will be missed but you like this one better. 

“it’s cute,” you nod and he laughs. 

“and yours isn’t?” he immediately says back. he rolls your name on his tongue, dear god . “it suits you well, i like it.”

you huff humoredly, “i will tell my parents you are a fan,” you don’t forget to emphasis on his name and hold your drink up, “heeseung.” 

“i hope i will be able to tell them myself one day,” he teases when you drink, making your choke. 

well, that was quite risky— although, still very smooth, you will give him that. 

your eyes wide and your mouth falls open is a surprised smile. your face must be funny because heeseung lets out a genuine laugh, that goes beyond the sound of the loud music. 

“take me to dinner first!” you tell him, while watching his body vibrate because of his laughter. 

the tall man gets serious pretty quickly after the words leave your mouth, he looks at you like he had you exactly where he wanted. 

“well,” he starts and his smirk is back again. “what about tonight?”

you can only blink at him for a moment. as if it was written on it; you scan his entire face in a hope of an answer. oh. 

“diner?” you ask, he hums. “tonight?” he hums again and your knees weaken a bit. “but we barely know each other!”

“we can get to!” his smile is more than evident in his voice, on his pink lips. “over diner!” 

he got you pressing your lips together and fighting back a smile like a highschool girl. the debate doesn’t take very long in your head, you just need to bite your inner cheek to get yourself to say it. 

strawberry head’s face is full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder who looks the most idiotic between the two of you. 

you sigh, then giggle, “fine, you convinced me.” 

the guy smiles. and after you successfully say goodbye to your friends while avoiding all their questions, everything gets wrapped pretty well. 

soon you stand a few meters away from heeseung’s means of transport.

“you have a bike,” you sound half impressed, half incredulous. 

heeseung, with his strawberry costume, has the audacity to look at you with an utterly shocked and offended expression splashed on his face. he even puts his hand on his heart. 

“am i not cool enough to have one?” he asks as he leans on his motorcycle. 

you take one step closer to him, letting your fingertips run through the leather seat. it is cool, very much so. him, despise his bright red ensemble, too. 

you chuckle, “it just doesn’t match your costume,” you confess and he chuckles. “you are like my very own james dean,” you turn your gaze back to him, “very cool to me.”

his look softens, his hand offered to you and helping you when you get on the passenger sit. he speaks again : 

“i promise to take care of you.” he whispers before letting your hand go gently. “i know a good restaurant a couple of blocks away.” you want to ask him if he doesn’t feel a bit ridiculous wearing this. “are you comfortable?

you thank your past self for choosing a black short instead of a skirt to wear with your black top and boots, “yeah,” you nod. “thank you.”

the wind runs through his hair when he takes off his strawberry head. it takes your breath away instantly. he was already beautiful before but now, this is something beyond and different. 

of course, his hair is pink.

“wouldn’t like to see it flying, would we?” he jokes and you only blink, eyes following him as he gets behind the bike and puts the strawberry in the box. he takes a helmet and comes back to you. 

he gets on the bike, so close to you when he turns around. 

your world completely collapse when he puts the helmet on your head for you, “i only got one,” he speaks, eyes focused on his fingers adjusting the helmet. “didn’t know a pretty girl like you would let me carry her around, you know?” 

thankfully, the tinted visor can hide your blushing face. and your stupid smile. halas— it can’t hide your giggles.

“i saw it in a dream of mine,” you respond when he turns around. you embrace his waist, “i knew the trajectory of you life would be changed tonight.” 

heeseung laughs again.

as he starts the engine you whisper in his ear, “is it the part where you tell me to hold on tight?” 

“i think you are doing that already, doll,” he taps your hand. 

and man, what a ride it was.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[flameblade3]

You’ve been at this for a while- years. Hundreds of happy couples made under your guidance. You’ve learned a few things over the years, some people don’t have those threads yet. Maybe for infants they’re just not born yet, or for others maybe something needs to change in their future soulmate before they would be ready. You’ve seen people holding hands while each of their strings runs off in different directions. You swear you’ve seen a few people whose soulmates switch almost every week. Even asexual or aromantic people had one, they simply led them to someone who would be special to them, content to live with but no need to love. After all, no one truly wants to be alone. But one thing always remained the same… they had one. You waited and waited and waited, but you never were able to see those strings wrapped around your own fingers like everyone else’s. Leading soulmates together always had a rather violently bittersweet taste, knowing that you might never get to feel that same sweet sensation that they must all get when they realize how well things worked out. One day, a rather simple looking lady walked through your business’s door also without strings attached to her fingers. You were shocked

“Excuse me,” she started, “I heard this would be the place where people can always find their special someone?” She asked

You gave your usual business monologue: “well you heard correct! Here we have a near 100% success rate that every person we guide to another will live their happily ever after.”

The woman chuckled, you raised an eyebrow, “it’s funny,” she laughed again, you felt something in your chest, “I did the same thing for so many others back home, but could never find someone for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was late so no one else was in the building. “Ma’am, could you come to the desk, please?” You asked, trying to hide the frantic tone in your voice

“Ah, of course!” She came forward

You leaned in and asked “can you see strings on people’s fingers that lead them to others?” Trying to sound as serious as possible so she knows you’re not joking

“Wh- I,” she stammered, “how did you know!?”

“Because I can do the same thing. And no matter how long I waited… I could never see strings on my own hands, and I can’t see them on your’s”

She was dead silent for a moment, she kept glancing between your hand, your face, and her hands. “Oh my… you’re right… I don’t believe it!”

“Well, it’s almost closing time for me, so how about I make you my last client for the day. Would you care to go for a walk? The travel must have been long and my desk is rather cramped. Plus, I know a really good place to grab dinner around here.” You stood up and held out your hand, she took it with a soft shake. Her hands were softer than you expected, she took better care of herself than her other features let on.

The two of you left your business as you locked up the building and began your walk, both of you hopeful that maybe, finally, you found your special someone.

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Cat boy lads things

Rafayel is the type of car boy who’d occupy your lap more often than not and will become pouty when your attention isn’t fully on him, so much so to the point where he’ll act like you’ve been neglecting him. (This is a false statement)

He’s the king of the side eye. He’s judging you but he’s not silent about it either and he will move to the other side of the room, however he’ll think that you’ll come after him and get pouty when you don’t.

He’s sending all kinds of signals and all of them contradict the other and yet he still expects you to know what he was conveying…for someone who hates cats he shares a lot more in common with them then he’d like to admit.

Zayne is the type of cat boy who is secretly obsessed with you and would do just about anything you’d ask of him.

He’s more than willing to wait on hand and foot for you, all the while reminding you of his loyalty and fondness for you when in close proximity of you. It’s extremely intimate with how close your faces were from each other, feeling his breath fan across your face.

He’s the calmest out of all of the cat boys and the most well behaved as he can be found next to you, casually grooming his tail and ears while chaos ensues throughout the room. He’s kinda low maintenance but you give him attention and affection regardless just to see him smile and purr against your lips.

Xavier the little freak is the kind of cat boy who will be calm with the hand dealt with him but thrives off of you touching his ears and tail, regardless of how sensitive both of them were, he just likes the feel of your hands touching him while he becomes a little warm under the collar.

However he’s also the type to be found fast asleep in some weird places and in weird situations. He sleeps like he’s dead and it concerns you greatly as you spend the next ten minutes trying to wake him up, internally freaking out, only for him to wake up completely unbothered.

He kneads your chest…a lot…that is all. The little freak. (Affectionate)

Sylus is a gentlemanly cat boy who always had a pension for mischief either the way it glimmered in his eyes as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

He uses his tail to grasp your wrist or even brush again your waist as he’s walking past, his ears pricking up at the sound of your little hitches of breath, and a knowing smile is stretched across his lips as he raises a brow at you.

You hated him for making you feel like this but you didn’t at the same time.

He will rub his scent on you if he smells another cat boy on you, not out of possessiveness or overprotectiveness, he just really doesn’t want you smelling like other cat boys. However this isn’t much of a problem when his scent away them away anyway from you anyway.

Bonus cat boys;

Kieran and Luke are the two shits who makes life infinitely harder.

They will think it’s funny to knock shit over, while your watching them do so no less, and or start biting and tugging at your clothes relentlessly until you threaten to spray water on them for being little shits.

Somehow they get their tails knotted together…how you don’t bother to ask as it’s already a headache with them saying that while they’re twins, they rather liked have their own independence separate form the other.

There the type lie their bodies across your body while you sleep, making you wonder what the fuck is that unnecessary weight coming from, only to open your eyes and see these two dummies smiling back at you with matching Cheshire grins. That or use their tails to tickle your nose as a prank or even rest their heads close to you so you could feel the twitching of their ears at every subtle sound.

They have to sleep on either side of you, those are the rules and you have to abide by them if you don’t want them being little shits.

[genericpuff]

I've been griping about the normalization of identity outing via social media for a while now. To put it simply, it's become almost some weird societal requirement that if you don't have every detail listed about yourself in your Twitter/FB/etc. bio, then it means you have "something to hide" or that you're not as "verifiable" because your account looks indistinct from that of a bot.

But that societal norm has really only benefited the people who profit off of that information in some way, whether it's through selling user data or through weaponizing details about a person against them.

I know that a lot of us love to use the fun little labels and acronyms in our bio that help others like us identify us as a 'safe person' or as someone who's in the same social/racial/identity groups as them. We're humans, we love to categorize things, it's in our nature (and it's fun!)

But if there's any time to start regulating that habit and challenging the norm that you're obligated to include all your personal info online - it's now.

There was a time when sock puppet accounts were expected and typical, not "suspicious".

There was a time when even age-sex-location was considered "too much information", but once it became the norm, we only EVER gave our personal information beyond generic ASL to people who we knew both online and in real life, or at the very least, people who we had known online for a significant enough amount of time that they had proved to be trustworthy (and even then, we didn't owe that information to anyone, ever; there are forum friends who I made online 10+ years ago and still talk to who do not know my personal information beyond broad strokes).

There was a time when simply being an avatar with a funny username was enough. And it still is enough, but massive platforms like Facebook and Twitter have been brainwashing us for years to believe that's not the case, under the guise of, "You wouldn't want to be dishonest, would you?" Through these same norms, we were led to believe that anime profile pictures are cringe, that having a fake online name is stupid, that the photos of you having fun at social events have to be taken JUST right otherwise you might imply to others that you're not actually having fun.

And considering how long these platforms have been around now, we have entire generations of children now who have been born and raised on that version of the ZuckMusk web, who have been taught that it "protects them" to express to everyone publicly their age, their school, their workplace, their family members, everything about themselves, because to not do so would be disingenuous.

None of this is to imply that the Internet was "safer" back in the day. I definitely should not have been on the Internet as much as I was when I was 13 in the late 2000's, it definitely did not benefit my brain development or my social skills. But the version of the Internet we currently exist in now is one that's been predicated on the false sense of security - the belief that if you're honest, everyone else has to be, too.

We've always had ways of identifying our safe people - by participating in the communities that we know are designed around our hobbies, our interests, our people. They might be small, they might not be as "cool" as the idea of netting yourself a big following of thousands of people, but they're also a lot safer and more genuine than that idealized following ever could be.

Don't feel pressured to include every bit of information about yourself in your bio. Even on Facebook, there's no rule that says you have to list your workplace, your school, your family members. There's no rule that says you have to list your personality type, queer labels, and neurodivergent disorders in your Twitter bio. There's no rule that you have to "prove" your life is real and fulfilled through the verification of photos, location tagging, and open-book sharing. If you share those photos, it should be because you genuinely want to share them, not because you feel some societal pressure to live up to others' expectations.

And I guarantee you, even your local mutuals on Facebook - your former classmates, family friends, distant relatives, coworkers, etc. - do not actually give that much of a damn about your personal life that they should be owed that much of a look into it on a daily basis. They've got their own shit going on, they literally do not need to know every detail about you.

I know it sounds scary. It also sounds kind of boring, when we've been used to a certain "way" of browsing and participating for years, that if we don't do so, it feels like being in the "out group" and that we're "breaking the rules". But I promise you, after spending over half my life online, those rules do not exist or benefit anyone who wouldn't profit off that information.

If you're wanting to learn how to branch off from major platforms like Facebook and Twitter and/or become more self-sufficient online, here are some guides to navigating the Internet like an old schooler that may help you!

FREE SITE BUILDER:

DIGITAL PIRACY 101:

(also in addition to everything mentioned here ^^^ they neglect to also mention Tor Browser which is a light and free-to-use browser software that allows you to browse anonymously; note that it's similar to a VPN in that it helps hide your identity online, HOWEVER it won't mask you from your ISP quite as effectively as a VPN, and if you sign into personal accounts with Tor, that's still going to obviously out you online lmao but I love using Tor for the odd time when I need to make a sock puppet for something and don't want it linked to my IP! and unlike a VPN, it's free to use!)

LEARN HOW TO USE RSS FEEDS:

People still use these! They're especially helpful for getting updates from your favorite pages and sites directly to your browser WITHOUT having to worry about stupid algorithm bullshit picking and choosing what you see. And many sites DO have RSS support once you know how to find it! (like adding in /rss at the end of a URL! Like this!)

FAKE EMAIL SERVICES:

LEARN HOW TO CODE IN HTML/CSS/JAVASCRIPT (AND MORE!):

DECENTRALIZED SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS:

I hope this helps arm you with some new knowledge in how to navigate the Internet like a Certified Old Person™️(like meeee!) Make your secret alt blogs for besties! Make your formal Facebook accounts that are clean of personal information and present the most neutral, safe-for-work version of yourself and keep the fun stuff to the secret profiles and chat groups that are just for you and friends/family/etc!! It might be "inconvenient" to have multiple accounts for the same purpose, but it's also INCREDIBLY freeing and can make your online experience both safer and more enjoyable.

Being "less" of yourself online does not make you any less you. It is your identity - you do not owe any amount of it to anyone beyond yourself. And in times like these, your identity is your greatest asset. Protect it.

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | i

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor & fluff in later chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.8K Warnings: angst no comfort, swearing, suggestive content, puppy!!!!

Fic Masterlist

a/n: here's the first part to the revamped mingi drabble series someone tell me to finish my other wips

“Don’t fuck this up for me,” you hissed, slipping on your heels and casting a sharp look in his direction.

Mingi, lounging by the door with his tie half-done, didn’t even look up. He adjusted his cufflinks instead, his movements slow, deliberate, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You think I’m the one who’s going to mess this up?” he replied, his voice laced with mockery. 

“You’re lucky I’m even bothering to show up at all. God knows I could be elsewhere.”

“Did you forget that you sabotaged last year’s event when you showed up completely shitfaced?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, hoping no one would notice. Mingi just laughed, a bitter, mocking sound that rang louder than you’d intended to speak as you pulled him aside.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he slurred, his words coming slow and thick, as if savoring each one. “But look at you, all dressed up like it matters.” 

His gaze raked over you, and for the first time, you felt small—like everything you’d done, everything you cared about, was nothing but a performance in his eyes.

Throughout the evening, he continued, unleashing a trail of subtle digs and outright insults, each one cutting deeper than the last. 

“No, I’m not much into charity—though I guess marrying Ms. Choi counts,” he drawled. You felt the sting of the insult, a wave of humiliation creeping up as he smirked at your expression.

And as he went on, his words got uglier, accusations laced with venomous insinuations about your foundation, about the people you’d invited, about you. 

“You know what’s funny? This is all she has. She begged me to be here, begged me to care. Pathetic, right?”

It was the cruelty of it that made you flinch. He looked at you, pleased with himself, with that twisted smile that told you he had come tonight for one reason only: to break you down.

Mingi didn’t hate you. He didn’t even care enough to despise you. Hatred would have required him to feel something at all, but to Mingi, you were nothing more than an obligation, a piece of his life he had to endure when the occasion called for it. 

You had to exist in the same spaces as him, but only on his terms, only when he wanted to remind you how little you meant to him.

Mingi had taken so much from you already—had eroded every bit of independence and dignity you’d fought to hold onto. But the annual Gold Gala, hosted by your foundation, was different. It was one of the few things left that was still unmistakably yours.

The Cromer Foundation wasn’t quite the classroom you’d once dreamed of teaching in, but it was something. It was your way of keeping that dream of becoming a music teacher alive. It was a way to support arts education, a way to pour hope and passion into the future. 

It was the only part of this new life you’d been forced into that felt like it had real purpose, the only place where you could still feel yourself making an impact, even if it meant facing Mingi’s ire every step of the way.

“I had to work my ass off,” you bit out, voice trembling with the strain of holding back everything you wanted to scream. 

“I had to clean up your mess to convince donors to continue supporting the foundation after you nearly destroyed it last time. This is the one thing I have left that actually matters to me.” 

The words were punctuated by the ache in your throat, your heart pounding as if it might burst from the sheer weight of your frustration.

“I’m not begging you to be there. I never asked for that. But I think we both know that neither of us wants to hear our families complaining about your belligerence, especially since I made concessions to let her be there.”

Your voice caught on the word, but you forced it out. He knew exactly who you meant—her, the woman he’d flaunted just enough to humiliate you but never enough for his family to call him out on it. 

Jeong Ahri. His first love, the girl who knew him before he became what he was now. She was also his best friend’s sister, the one woman who, even in her absence, always held a piece of him. Just the sound of her name was enough for him to lay his arms down. 

Mingi didn’t consider himself religious. He’d never felt the pull toward faith, despite his family’s insistence on portraying themselves as god-fearing, pious people. But the day his father announced that he was considering a merger, weighing options to secure their legacy through an alliance, Mingi prayed for the first time he could remember. 

But his father chose otherwise. Mingi hadn’t heard his father’s reasoning in detail—only the clipped statement that “it was decided” and that it would be you instead of Ahri. It wasn’t that she was lacking in education or accomplishments; her qualifications were impeccable. 

But you were different, his father had said. More refined. More…controlled.

Where Ahri was unpredictable, a free spirit with an uncontainable passion that Mingi had always adored, you were composed, you brought a stability that his father believed Ahri could never offer, and to him, that was paramount. It was a choice made for optics and security, the perfect union on paper, a marriage that would uphold the family’s reputation.

Now here he was, bound not to her, but to you—an arrangement forged by titles and alliances, with love considered an afterthought at best. This marriage wasn’t just a partnership but a meticulously crafted piece of his family’s foundation. 

And you—perhaps unwillingly, perhaps reluctantly—were the chosen piece in this carefully woven tapestry of alliances.

“How could I forget? We’re putting on a show, some picture-perfect life that everyone else could admire.” His gaze was sharp, unyielding. 

“Picture-perfect life?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of the room. 

“Please. This is far from that. All I wanted was to make something meaningful out of this sham of a marriage, to salvage whatever was left of my life.”

“Meaningful?” he sneered, his eyes narrowing. 

"You think you're the only one making sacrifices?" he snapped, his voice low but venomous. 

"I lost any chance at a real life the moment I agreed to marry some pathetic charity case." The words dripped with contempt, his gaze locked onto yours as though daring you to react.

“Playing the victim as always,” you replied coldly, your gaze steady as you met Mingi’s glare. His jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark passing over his eyes, but you pressed on,  undeterred. 

"Maybe you should have fought harder against your parents instead of just rolling over every time they threw you a command. Including this marriage.”

That struck a nerve. Mingi’s expression twisted, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his armor. He scoffed, but there was no humor in it—just a bitter edge, sharp and unrestrained.

“You think I didn’t try? They didn’t care who I spent my time with as long as they got what they wanted—a merger, a legacy. So I went along with it. It wasn’t worth the battle when I already had Ahri.”

His words stung, sharper than you’d anticipated, cutting right through you. But as you stared at him, searching for any hint of regret, any flicker of hesitation, there was…nothing. Just the same cold, unfeeling expression that had worn down your patience over time.

“And here we are—both miserable because you took the easy way out,” you sighed. 

“All those sacrifices you keep talking about, all those things you supposedly gave up? They mean nothing if you can’t even own up to them. Including marrying the ‘charity case’ you despise so much.”

You saw his eyes harden, his shoulders tense, but you refused to back down, leaning into the truth you both knew but never spoke.

“You wanted a convenient life, and you got it. But don’t you dare try to make me the villain just because you couldn’t stand up to them—or to yourself.”

You held his gaze, a cold, bitter silence stretching between you. Without another word, you turned, steeling yourself for the night ahead, knowing that the only thing left between you was the hollow image of the life you failed to create.

⋆

Your wedding to Mingi was more of a business transaction than a celebration. The ceremony took place in an office that bore more resemblance to a boardroom than a place for vows. 

The only witnesses were your parents, your cousins Jongho and San, and Mingi’s best friend, Yunho. All were seated with neutral expressions, gazes locked on the officiant as if marking the completion of a financial report.

You barely remembered the words exchanged. There was no music, no flowers—just the murmured vows, the scratch of a pen signing your names, and the cold weight of a ring slipped onto your finger by a man who didn’t even meet your eyes. 

When it was over, the officiant closed the book with a finality that made your stomach drop—a reminder that there was no turning back now. Your parents offered restrained congratulations, their smiles polite but empty. 

Only your cousins seemed to look at you with genuine sympathy, understanding the weight of what you’d just committed to. Mingi’s mother, on the other hand, wore a sharp, proud smile, one devoid of joy but full of satisfaction. To her, this wasn’t a marriage; it was a completed transaction.

Following the ceremony, a small reception was held in the upstairs lounge. Glasses were raised, and toasts were made to "a prosperous future," though they felt painfully empty. 

Mingi barely spoke to you, instead engaging in brief, clipped conversations with his father and yours about the two families’ businesses and the outlook for the next quarter.

You sat in silence, barely tasting the champagne in your glass, as you watched the people around you discuss the "success" of this union. You wanted to scream, to tell them this wasn’t a union, just an arrangement—a legal binding that had stripped you of any choice you once had.

The room felt cold, and as you glanced at the man who was now your husband, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something lonely.

You had spent years nurturing a different dream—one that had nothing to do with boardrooms or mergers. You had wanted to teach music, to live a quiet, meaningful life, far from the shadows of your family’s empire. 

Drawn to the idea of leaving it all behind, you envisioned moving abroad to pass on your love for music to young, eager minds. The plan was simple: save enough, book a one-way ticket, and disappear into the life you wanted. 

But when you told your family about your plans, their reactions left you stunned. They couldn't see a future for you as a teacher—not when you were the heir to the Choi Group, not when your last name carried so much weight. 

You fought them on it, desperate to hold onto the life you wanted. Shouting matches stretched late into the night, but when arguments proved fruitless, desperation drove you to action. 

Just as you reached the final hurdle, minutes away from your flight, the authorities stopped you. Your heart dropped as you realized just how deep your parents' control ran—how their reach extended even across oceans you hadn't yet crossed.

By the time you both left the reception, it was clear there would be no honeymoon, no illusion of a romantic escape. Mingi went to his own car without a word, and you followed in your own to the penthouse, wondering how a marriage could feel like a prison on the very first day.

Crystal chandeliers cast their glow across the gala hall, the soft hum of conversation mingling with the gentle clink of champagne flutes. This event was one of the few things you could call your own—a charitable foundation you’d helped establish to support arts education. It wasn’t quite the classroom you’d once dreamed of, but it was something—a way to keep that dream alive, even in the world you’d been forced into. 

You moved among the guests, offering a polished smile and gracious words about the foundation’s mission, with Mingi at your side, his arm draped around your waist as you made the rounds together.

To the crowd, you looked like the perfect couple—a united front. But you felt the coldness between you, the way Mingi’s hand barely touched your waist, how his gaze slid away from yours the moment anyone’s attention drifted.

The evening was moving along smoothly until you noticed her—the woman standing near the bar, her eyes fixed on Mingi. Dressed in a red gown, she radiated confidence, her gaze unflinching as she watched him. She was the shadow that trailed him, the one he turned to whenever he could no longer bear the weight of pretending with you.

Beside you, Mingi’s posture tensed almost imperceptibly, his hand lingering at the small of your back. He noticed her too, of course; he’d be a fool not to. Yet his grip on you remained firm, as if bound by an invisible script dictating the image you two were expected to maintain. Nothing amiss, nothing unseemly, as though the weight of her presence hadn’t shaken him at all.

To anyone who looked closely, the story between them was clear: her gaze was steady, defiant even, a silent reminder that she held a part of him you would never touch.

This was meant to be your night—the one place to grieve the shattered pieces of your own dreams, had you succeeded in escaping the clutches of this arrangement. 

But as you held yourself in place, the warmth of Mingi’s hand was nothing but a reminder that even when he stood at your side, his heart was somewhere else entirely.

You returned to the penthouse alone, the buzz of the gala still ringing in your ears, though the evening itself felt hollow and cold now that you were by yourself. The laughter and polite applause, the countless exchanges of small talk and polished smiles—none of it seemed to matter. 

Mingi had left your side almost as soon as the event began winding down, disappearing into the night with the excuse of business matters to attend to. You didn’t need to ask; you already knew where he was headed and with whom.

You weren’t bothered by Mingi’s connection to Ahri. Sure, he brought her to the penthouse on your wedding night, but you understood that their story existed long before you ever came into the picture—a chapter of his life that, despite the complexities, didn’t take away from your own sense of self-worth or purpose in this arrangement.

The memory of that night still lingered. You had walked into the penthouse to find Ahri there, her laughter filling the space as she sat comfortably on the sofa, a glass of wine in hand. 

Mingi was by her side, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his fingers tracing patterns along her thigh. A soft smile played on his lips—a smile you didn’t know he was capable of, one that felt like a taunt.

And when you retired to your room, the primal sounds from the both of them escaped through the confines of Mingi’s bedroom. 

“Shit, just like that, right there, Mingi!”

“Fuuuuck, takin’ me so well.”

You knew they were both trying to hurt you, flaunting how intimate their relationship was in front of you, as if to remind you of your place. Their calculated cruelty seeped into your consciousness like poison, amplifying your insecurities and sowing seeds of self-doubt. 

Every laugh, every touch between them was a dagger to your heart, a reminder of the love and warmth you were denied. The pain was a constant, gnawing ache, leaving you feeling more alone and unworthy with each passing moment.

You had hoped, at the very least, that Mingi might see you as more than an obligation—perhaps even as an ally. Instead, you were nothing more than a prop in his life, a fixture he resented. If only he’d see you for who you really were—not the enemy in this tangled web, but someone who could make this shared fate a little less lonely.

You kicked off your heels, draped your coat over the back of the sofa, and sank down, staring out at the glittering city lights beyond the penthouse windows. Loneliness settled over you as you replayed the night’s events. 

Your gaze drifted to the piano in the corner. For a moment, you could almost see him there—Hongjoong, with his fingers drifting effortlessly over the keys as he coaxed a melody from the instrument. 

He had been the son of your piano teacher, your best friend, and your first love. You remembered the way he’d listened to your dreams, encouraging you to reach higher, even when you could see the exhaustion creeping into his features, the shadow of his terminal illness never far behind. 

“Would you still believe in me now?” you murmured to the empty room, the silence thickening with the question. You knew what Hongjoong would say. 

“Fuck it, sell your shares and leave. Start over. Eat the rich.”

He had shown you what passion looked like, not only for music but for life itself, even as he faced an uncertain future. He had given you strength and taught you resilience. The long afternoons spent together, his hands guiding yours over the piano keys, had been a sanctuary from the expectations and pressures of your family.

The silence in the room seemed to shift, becoming less oppressive, more contemplative. You could almost hear Hongjoong's voice, softer now, more encouraging. 

"You've got this," he would say. "Just take the first step."

You closed your eyes. Tomorrow would come with its demands and pretenses, but for now, you surrendered to the silence, letting it carry you into a sleep that softened the loneliness—if only for a little while.

Ahri’s laughter filled the confined space of the car, soft and unrestrained as she collapsed against Mingi’s chest, her fingers drawing idle patterns along his jawline. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, a playful daring that stirred something in him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Your wife looked like she wanted to kill me,” Ahri giggled. She knew exactly what she was to him—a temptation, a release, a break from the predictability of his life.

Mingi only smirked, his large hands cupping the curve of her ass with ease as he let out a low chuckle, brushing his thumb along her skin as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I would’ve stopped her,” he murmured, the words casual, devoid of any true weight.

Ahri tilted her head, her eyes searching his face, a smile curling at her lips. She could read the lack of hesitation in his expression, the cold confidence of a man who knew he was untouchable, who knew he had nothing to lose by being here with her. 

“You’d really do that for me?” she asked, her voice soft and playful, but she knew the answer. 

They both did. She didn’t need him to reassure her, didn’t need promises or apologies—she was here because she understood exactly who he was, what he wanted, and how little he cared about the impact it had on anyone else.

“Of course,” he said simply, brushing his lips against her neck with an easy familiarity. His smirk grew as he pulled her closer, rutting up against her with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

The idea of hurting you wasn’t something he dwelled on; it was merely collateral, an afterthought in a life where his own desires came first. 

To him, this wasn’t betrayal—it was freedom. Being with Ahri wasn’t about guilt or regret. It was about the thrill of defiance, the joy of stepping beyond the lines and indulging in the part of himself he’d never fully let go. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Mingi suggested, his voice low, laced with an eagerness that hinted at the thrill of escaping somewhere no one could find them.

The steady hum of the engine filled the silence between them as Mingi guided the car along the winding roads leading out of the city. The quiet hum of the engine settled between them, and Mingi’s grip on the wheel tightened as he let the night swallow them whole.

His gaze flickered to Ahri, watching the way she leaned back, eyes half-closed, utterly carefree. She was always like this with him—at ease, undemanding, dangerous in all the ways that made him forget everything else. With her, he could let go of every responsibility, every burden weighing him down. 

The soft, velvety vocals of jazz singer Kim Taehyung drifted through the radio, wrapping around the pair in a warm embrace. For a fleeting second, Mingi allowed himself to sink into the fantasy. Here, with her beside him, the world outside felt like a distant dream, nothing more than whispers beyond the car windows.

But dreams eventually come to an end. 

Out of nowhere, a pair of blinding headlights burst through the night, a harsh, unforgiving brightness that tore through the calm. Mingi’s eyes widened, but the oncoming vehicle was so close, so sudden, that there was barely a second to react. His hands jerked on the wheel, trying to swerve, but the road was narrow, and there was nowhere to go.

In an instant, everything blurred into chaos. The impact hit them head-on, a deafening crunch of metal against metal, a violent jolt that rattled through the car as it skidded off the road. Mingi’s head slammed back against the seat, his vision blurring as the car spun, skidding to a brutal stop against the guardrail. The world seemed to fall silent in the aftermath, a surreal quiet settling over them.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard the faint wail of sirens approaching, growing louder with every passing second. As the darkness closed in, Mingi felt the weight of it all—the choices he’d made, the life he’d led, and the person waiting for him at home—weighing down on him, filling him with a regret he could no longer ignore.

⋆

It was after midnight when the phone rang, the sudden sound breaking the uneasy stillness of the penthouse. In your sleepy stupor, you hesitated for a moment before reaching for it, your heart pounding in your chest. A vague sense of dread built as you picked up the receiver upon seeing your mother-in-law’s contact photo.

“Y/N! Oh, thank goodness! Mingi—he’s in the hospital! He was in a terrible accident and is in critical condition. Your father-in-law and I are on our way now!”

Mingi. Critical condition. Hospital. The world seemed to tilt on its side, and you felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, barely able to get the words out as you clutched the phone, your knuckles white. “How… how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. They… they’re not sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

In that instant, any resentment or past grievances faded into the background. You couldn’t deny the strange ache settling in your chest as you thought of Mingi lying in that hospital bed, perhaps alone, facing something he could not fight or push away.

You didn’t remember much of the drive to the hospital. The city lights blurred past you as you sped through the streets, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every other thought. All you could focus on was getting to him.

When you finally reached the emergency wing, the harsh, fluorescent lights made you feel even more out of place. You spotted his family first—his mother and father huddled together on the worn hospital chairs. 

Mrs. Song was barely holding it together, face streaked with tears as she leaned against her husband, clutching his hand so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs that she tried to stifle, but each gasp tore through the silence, raw and full of anguish.

It was odd, seeing her show so much emotion for her son when, for so many years, her presence in his life had been so distant. There was no trace of the stoic woman who had always seemed to keep the world at arm's length. Here in the unforgiving lights of the hospital, she looked like any mother, grieving, terrified of losing her son.

Your own parents were there too, solemn and tense as they stood a little to the side, offering whatever silent support they could. 

When your mother noticed you, her gaze softened, and she reached out, wrapping you in a brief, tight hug. Yet even in her embrace, there was a certain restraint, like she wasn’t sure how to give more, wasn’t sure how to bridge the space between you in a way that felt natural. 

But then you turned, and that’s when you saw him.

Through the window of the ICU room, Mingi lay on the hospital bed, looking nothing like the man you knew. He was pale, his face bruised and battered, his body still and weak beneath the sheets. Tubes and wires connected him to a series of machines, each beeping and whirring to keep him alive, monitoring his vitals after hours of surgery to stop the relentless bleeding.

It was a jarring sight, seeing someone usually so full of life, even if that life had often been directed at you in anger. Now he seemed so small, vulnerable, a shadow of the man who had once looked at you with such disdain. 

Despite all the bitterness, you couldn’t deny the weight settling heavily in your chest as you found yourself wishing he would open his eyes, even if it meant another one of his sharp, dismissive looks.

“H-Hey.” 

You whipped around to find Yunho. His shoulders were slouched, exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes, and worry etched into his expression. He offered you a small, tired smile, a weak attempt at reassurance that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi,” you murmured, tearing your eyes away from Mingi. 

The silence between you and Yunho was thick with unspoken concerns, a tension that felt almost palpable.

“I know things between you two have never been easy,” Yunho murmured, his voice low and hesitant. He avoided your gaze, eyes lingering on Mingi through the glass. His tone was careful, a mix of sympathy and regret. 

“I’m sorry that he’s been awful to you. My sister, too.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. For so long, the hostility from both Mingi and Ahri had been an almost constant presence in your life, a simmering resentment that had shaped almost every single facet of your relationship with your husband.

But hearing Yunho acknowledge it so openly was…strange. Disarming, even. You weren’t used to someone seeing it, let alone speaking about it without any pretense or defensiveness. In his soft, understanding tone, you could sense not just sympathy, but regret.

“How’s Ahri?” you finally asked. 

“She’s pretty banged up,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion evident. 

“But doctors say she’s expected to leave here in a few days. Nothing too serious, thankfully.” He hesitated, his eyes drifting back to Mingi. 

“But Mingi is still pretty touch-and-go.”

You could hear it in Yunho’s voice—the worry, the fear that his best friend might not make it. It was a stark reminder of just how fragile life was, how quickly things could change in the span of a heartbeat.

“He’s got so much fight in him,” you acknowledged softly, as if you were trying to convince yourself.

“If anyone can pull through this, it’s him. He just… he has to.”

Mingi’s presence, for all the ways it had complicated your life, was something you weren’t ready to lose. The ache in your chest betrayed the truth: you wanted him to fight, to come back, to have the chance to be more than the sum of his anger and bitterness.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” A voice cut through the silence, clear and sharp. 

Mingi’s eyes fluttered open to an otherworldly darkness, pierced only by the eerie glow of dim, floating lanterns. He felt weightless, almost translucent, his last memory fragmented—the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, the sound of metal twisting. He tried to move, but his limbs felt disconnected from him, as if he were less a person and more a shadow drifting in an endless void.

“Where… where am I?” he whispered, his voice echoing through the vast emptiness.

A figure emerged from the darkness, wearing a calm, almost unsettling smile. Dressed in flowing black robes, the man stood before him, his gaze sharp and cat-like.

“My courtroom,” the man replied, his voice smooth but cold. “People know me as The Judge, but you can call me Wooyoung.” 

His eyes gleamed as he looked down at Mingi, as if he could see every mistake, every regret, every flaw carved into his very soul.

“I’m…I’m dead?”

Wooyoung tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, assessing Mingi as if he were little more than a curious object. 

“Not necessarily,” he replied, a slight, detached smile curving his lips. 

“At least, not until you plead your case.”

A chill ran through Mingi, spreading from the base of his spine up to his shoulders. He was no longer in the realm of the living, yet neither was he truly dead. This wasn’t a dream, nor was it a fleeting punishment. 

This was judgment.

“It seems you have unfinished business,” Wooyoung continued, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather. 

“Regrets. Mistakes. Wrongdoings that tether you to the life you left behind. And now, you will face them.”

“W-What…” Mingi stammered, struggling to find words, every attempt at forming a coherent thought falling apart under the man’s unrelenting stare. 

“What… unfinished business?”

Wooyoung’s expression twisted, a mix of disbelief and disdain crossing his face as he raised a brow. 

“Really?” he said, his tone heavy with incredulity. He let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if Mingi’s question had been the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in centuries. 

Wooyoung’s eyes gleamed as he summoned a scroll into his hand, the parchment unfurling with a dramatic flourish and rolling all the way down to the ground. An endless list of Mingi’s transgressions and misdeeds spilled forth, each offense scrawled in elaborate detail, stretching on as if it would never end.

“Selfish. Petulant. You’re the kind of person who only considers what you want, regardless of who gets hurt.” His voice grew sharper, each word landing like a blow. 

“You cheated on your wife without a second thought, treating her like she was nothing more than an inconvenience in your life. And let’s not forget—” he tilted his head, a dark gleam in his eyes, “bullying other kids in middle school.”

Mingi felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut, dredging up memories he had buried long ago, things he’d justified or ignored. He shifted uncomfortably, every accusation pulling him deeper into his own shame.

“That… that was so long ago,” he whispered, barely audible. “I was a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

“Ah, so ignorance is your excuse?” Wooyoung’s tone was icy, unimpressed. 

Mingi swallowed, his mind flashing through a thousand faces, fragments of past encounters that blurred together but still left an unsettling weight in his chest. All the people he’d dismissed, manipulated, pushed aside. The friends he’d neglected, the promises he’d broken, and, above all, the way he had carelessly stomped on the one person who had also been innocent in this situation–you. 

“So how do I fix it? I—I don’t want to die. Please,” he choked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at the man with pleading eyes. 

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t soften, but there was a pause—a brief, quiet stillness that felt like a moment of reckoning. He tilted his head, studying Mingi as if weighing the depths of his fear, his regret, his desperation.

"Is that it, then? Now that you’re here, now that death is staring you in the face, now you want redemption? Not when you had the power to make different choices, not when the people who cared about you needed you to be better?”

Mingi swallowed hard, feeling the weight of each accusation sink into him. He could barely meet the man’s gaze, shame twisting in his stomach. 

“I made mistakes. I didn’t think…I thought I’d always have time to change, to make things right. But I can’t…I can’t end like this.” His voice broke, and he felt the desperation bubbling up, raw and unfiltered. 

“I’m begging you. Give me a chance. I’ll do anything.”

Wooyoung watched him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he took a step closer, his dark robes fluttering against the ground.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Mingi whispered. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “If you want to escape this fate, then you’ll have to complete three tasks within three months.”

Mingi’s heart pounded in his chest, but he nodded, his eyes shining with desperate determination. 

“I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” 

With a single snap, Mingi felt his body contort, an overwhelming, suffocating pressure enveloping him. His form began to shrink and his vision blurred. A high-pitched yelp escaped his throat as he realized he was no longer human. 

He was small, helpless, wrapped in fur with tiny paws trembling beneath him. He had been transformed into a puppy, looking up at the man from the ground, his new form shivering in fear and confusion.

“You’re much cuter when you’re not hurling insults at people and lying through your teeth,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching out to poke Mingi’s snout. 

Indignation boiled in Mingi’s tiny chest, but he was powerless to do anything but stand there, his fur puffed out as he tried to look fierce while Wooyoung continued to pet him.

“First,” Wooyoung began, “you’re going to learn what it means to be vulnerable. Focus on letting go of control completely, and start with small acts. ” 

“For your second task,” he continued, “you’re going to help someone who’s hurt or lost. You have to figure out how to comfort them. You’ll need to offer genuine support, not just do what’s easiest for you.”

Mingi whimpered, his tiny body shivering, but Wooyoung didn’t give him a chance to protest.

“And finally,” Wooyoung said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ll help someone find happiness. You’re going to show them kindness and bring them joy, with no expectation of getting anything in return. For someone as self-centered as you, that’ll be your most difficult challenge of all.”

With that, Wooyoung straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Simple enough for you, little guy?” he chuckled, scratching behind Mingi’s soft, floppy ear. 

“Complete these tasks, and you can have your life back. It’s not so hard, right?”

Mingi looked up, wide-eyed and uncertain in his new, pint-sized form. The world felt so large and overwhelming now, every shadow looming like a mountain, every distant sound magnified. His tiny paws shuffled nervously, a soft whimper escaping him.

“But, hey, if you can’t handle it and end up staying here, at least you’ll be the cutest little thing in the afterlife. You’re so small, I could just carry you around in my pocket!”

Mingi huffed, his tail puffing up in what he hoped was indignation. The thought was absurd! He couldn't decide whether to feel insulted or embarrassed, but Wooyoung’s warm smile and the affectionate scritch behind his ear made it hard to stay mad.

⋆

You sighed and sat down on a bench, the quiet stillness of the early morning hours settling around you. Mingi’s mother hadn’t let you leave, insisting that you stay for any updates on his condition. It was easier to wait outside, where the air felt fresher and the weight of worry wasn’t as suffocating.

Two years. Had it really been two years? You leaned back against the bench, staring up at the faint dawn light peeking through the trees. You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. Mingi’s bitterness had been a slow, creeping poison. He blamed you for the engagement, even though it was hardly your choice, and his resentment seeped into every corner of your life.

Every conversation was strained, every look filled with contempt, and yet here you were, waiting outside a hospital, a dutiful spouse in name alone. 

The weight of your commitment felt heavier now that he was teetering on the edge of life and death. The responsibilities and promises you had made to each other took on a new, almost suffocating significance. It wasn't just about keeping up appearances anymore—it was about being there, truly being there, when it mattered most.

You sighed, the sound mingling with the faint rustling from the bushes nearby, pulling you momentarily from your reverie.

From the corner of your eye, a small white puppy emerged, its fur dirty and matted with leaves. The tiny creature padded forward, nose twitching as it sniffed the air and hesitated as it spotted you. Something about its curiosity struck a chord in you, melting the heaviness in your chest just a little.

“Puppy!” you gasped, crouching down and holding out your hand. 

Mingi’s ears perked up at your voice, and he took a tentative step forward. 

You appeared more exhausted than usual, the shadows under your eyes more pronounced, and a weariness etched into your features that he hadn't noticed previously. There was a fragility about you that tugged at something deep within him, a vulnerability you rarely allowed to show.

But the way you whispered, with that soft, delighted tone and the way your face lit up when you saw him—it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Without thinking, his little tail started wagging, betraying him completely. He could feel his new puppy body responding instinctively, unable to stop the joyful swishing, even though part of him knew how ridiculous he must look.

“Why are you by yourself?” you asked, wiggling your fingers in front of him. 

Mingi watched, trying to resist the urge to play, but then—damn it—he couldn’t help himself. Before he knew it, he’d pounced forward, his tiny paws reaching for your hand, teeth closing softly around your fingers in a playful nibble.

No, stop it, Mingi! He cursed, attempting to restrain himself from giving into his instincts. But he couldn’t. The look on your face, the warmth in your eyes, was worth the humiliation of his tiny, floppy form and the impulse to play like he actually enjoyed it.

He flopped onto his back, revealing his soft, fluffy belly, earning an immediate squeal of joy. The sight of his tiny paws tucked adorably close to his chest and his big puppy eyes was simply too much.

The sheer cuteness of the puppy version of him was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but scratch his belly. His hind leg kicked instinctively, a sign of his enjoyment.

Mingi let out a soft, high-pitched whimper, as you scooped him into your arms. This is…nice? And when your hand ran gently down his back, he melted further, his tiny body going limp as he nuzzled into your chest. His heart thrummed with a fluttering feeling he didn’t recognize. 

Why does this actually feel good? 

You didn’t have that look of quiet disappointment that had seemed to settle on your face since the day you both said, “I do.”

You just looked…happy.

For the first time, Mingi realized how little he’d truly known you. It hurt to realize that a tiny puppy—his current form—could make you feel more affection than he ever had when he was human. He hadn’t given you any reason to smile at him like this; he hadn’t even tried.

“I guess the universe is exchanging my husband for you, huh?” you mumbled, stroking his tiny head with your thumb.

Mingi bristled internally. How rude! He was irreplaceable. You couldn’t simply replace him with a puppy!

You stood up, carefully bundling him against your chest to shield him from the chill of dawn. 

He wondered if he would ever feel this again once he returned to his original self, or if he would only carry the ache of what he could have had—if he’d been a different person, if he’d ever let you in.

ii >>

a/n: I have a taglist signup to keep things organized! feel free to fill it out for any fics that I'm currently working on! also this first chapter will be the longest and future chapters will be shorter

[oimitocat]

ATEEZ REACTION TO….

….reader having a big dick (established relationship)

ᡴꪫ HONGJOONG…. had no idea what you were being so shy for. he was riled up beyond anything and seeing you be so hesitant for him to go under your waistband was annoying him a bit.

your hand was gripping his wrist even as his fingers dipped under your shorts.

“baby i don’t care if you’re sma-“ his eyes drop when he sees your tent. just the size of it was enough for him to drool. he definitely made sure you got rid of that shyness.

ᡴꪫ SEONGHWA…. is also shy. he found it cute that the two of you were in the same situation- trying to hide from each other and stick to kisses and wandering hands. but let’s be honest, he was aching for more.

so hearing you offer something outside of his plans upset him. he stared at you with his pretty eyes until you swallows and gave in. his eyes almost come out of their sockets when he sees how big you are. definitely shuts you up with kisses and a helpful mouth.

ᡴꪫ YUNHO….’s large hands were antsy. he needed to feel more and see more. you kept focusing more on his hands than on his kisses. you do anything to keep him away from below your shorts but…

yunho lets out a breathless moan when you spring free. he takes no time in working on you, praising you through and through.

ᡴꪫ YEOSANG…. was already on top of your lap. you were mentally begging he didn’t feel you because that was enough to give away how big you were. yet he kept moving his hips and when he pushes you down to lay on the pillows, just as he moves to crawl into a better position- he sees your tent.

you swallow at the immediate gaze he gives you. he’s surprised but so exited. he definitely shows you how much and his lovely voice coaxes you more than you coax him when he sinks down on it.

ᡴꪫ SAN…. wasted no time in demanding to see you. he was on a mission and he needed to fulfill it pronto. so when he sees how quiet you become when he pulls your out of your boxers, he smiles.

“i can take you baby,” he says eagerly, “imma prove it.” and he makes sure you don’t forget how much he’s in love with every single part of you.

ᡴꪫ MINGI…. was putting little to no work. our pillow princess was enjoying your attention in the form of kisses and gropes but he desperately needed more. he was so confused at how you tried to shy away from the deed.

actually, you weren’t, you were just trying to make him understand your size isn’t all that. i promise you, the second he sees it and the second he FEELS it, he’s letting you know it’s all that.

ᡴꪫ WOOYOUNG…. has a big mouth. you have a big dick. he has a big mouth. he has the AUDACITY to bully you over your shyness. your shyness goes out the window immediately.

he had it planned all along apparently. making sure you know he’s uncaring of your size. it turns into a rile competition and you end up showing him he should be nicer.

ᡴꪫ JONGHO…. tried not to panic. not over the fact that you were big. but at the fact he was just as shy as you were. the two of you sat in a dry silence until he makes eye contact with your flushes face.

in the end, you had to work with his shyness and your own. he was really willing. it awkward, funny and purely genuine. he definitely assures you he won’t be shy afterwards.

[aritsukemo]

There goes my baaaabyyyy | Multiple Characters

Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, and Sae Itoshi

Summary: After seeing an abundance of tiktoks about the Usher trend, you decide to try it out on your unsuspecting boyfriend after a while of not seeing him

Warnings: This is the author's attempt at being funny so crack ahead. I apologize in advance.

A/N: Idk what came over me today, but I decided to waste my time writing this anyways after getting inspired by this amazing slideshow on tiktok talking about how each Haikyuu character would react to you doing the Usher trend. This is also my first time writing for Sae ( and I also know virtually nothing about him as I've only seen season 1 of Blue Lock ) so I'm sorry if he's ooc. I just realllyyy wanted to add him as I've been thirsting over edits of him ( and Reo ) for the past day or so.

A sigh of relief escapes through the chapped lips of the soon-to-be world cup competitor Isagi Yoichi. After hard fought battles during the preliminaries and all the stress and trials that come with it, it was finally the time for Isagi to return to his safe haven. He was hesitant for a time as he was still riding the adrenaline rush and wanted to stay back and train with some of the others, but since Bachira was returning to Japan to visit his mom and celebrate with her, it reminded him that he also had someone to return home to; you.

And so, after the longest thirteen hour flight of his life, he was now walking, suitcase in hand, alongside his best friend as the two of them exited the baggage claim and was nearing the lounge where you were allegedly waiting for him.

It had been so long since he's seen you, touched you—held you.. He finds himself wondering, how much has changed? Has your laugh changed at all? Have you switched up your sense of style? Maybe your hair? Do you still taste like the honeyed, buttered pancakes you used to make him every morning? Is your smile still so wide that it creases your cheeks and makes them pudge out more? Do your eyes still gaze at him as if he was made out of gold like they used to?

As he dwells on his thoughts, the yearning for you seeps in more and more like oil filling up a tank. It's heavy and it's only when he's just about to succumb to the weight of it all that he realizes just how much he's truly missed you.

And it seems that he wasn't alone in this feeling.

As he stepped into the lounge, he's met with his first and only warning. A warning that came in the familiar tune of the audio of a certain tiktok you had sent him a week prior before you came sliding his way on your knees. Your voice raised to match the exact pitch of the audio as you sung the infamous lyrics until you came to an abrupt halt when you collided with his stomach, nearly knocking him over with the force you hit him with.

And the only thing he could fathom to do was to stare like a deer in headlights and say, "Uh...what in the world?!"

Bachira couldn't possibly hope to contain his laughter any longer after that.

After seconds of Bachira's wheezing and airless chuckles, it was only when he was beginning to grip his stomach from the pain of his amusement that Isagi finally realized what just happened. And when he did, his entire face flushed a cherry red.

"What- Why are you doing this right now of all time?" He asked, semi-shouting as he grabbed the upper part of your arms—which were wrapped around his waist.

"I missed you, baby~!" You said in a sing-songy voice. And, as you looked up at him with your eyes shining with the familiar gleam he knew just as that same trophy-awarding smile stretched across your face, he found himself faltering for a moment. His shoulders slumping as he began mumbling shyly..

"I- I.. I missed you too.. But please, get up! People are starting to give us weird looks.."

Three months. That's how long it's been since you've last seen him.

Well, that's technically not true. If you wanted to be less dramatic, you could admit that you saw your boyfriend just last week on tv doing his signature dribbling moves and if you wanted to really be frank, you had seen his gorgeous face up close just the other day when he facetimed you and informed you that he'll be home that following afternoon. You could also make it sound much less extreme by simply confessing that you had regularly spoke to Bachira throughout these three months via text and that he'd facetime you at least one a week.

But you didn't want to count any of that.

I mean, sure you got to see him, but you didn't really get to see him. You weren't able to kiss his cheek whenever they perked up and flushed pink. You couldn't run your fingers through his layered hair and watch the satisfying transition of his brown strands turn yellow between your fingertips. You weren't able to hold his chin and watch in awe and fondness as he laughed toothily like a baby kitten..

You haven't seen him, not in all his glory which, to you, was like not seeing him at all. That said, three months of that torture was unbearable.

But all of that pain was forgotten in a matter of seconds at the odd sound of drums playing in the distance.

You didn't have any time to react to—or rather, process—what was happening or prepare yourself before Bachira got a running start towards you and soon dropped to his knees, sliding the rest of the way up to you with the biggest smile on his face—all while Usher's voice boomed behind him from his back pocket.

You had no choice but to accept fate and allow the love of your life to crash into you and completely knock you to the ground.

As the biting cold of the airport's tiles crept up your skin and all the air was just about knocked from your lungs from unexpectedly hitting the flat surface, Bachira stared down at you from above, cheeks dusted pink which made him look like an excited little kid.

"Hey, babe! It's been so long!" He chirped before coming down to press all his weight onto you as he caged your torso with his arms, his face immediately nearing yours to press a big, wet kiss to your cheek.

If it had been any other situation that he had done this in, you'd probably be annoyed from the embarrassment of having basically half the airport staring at the two of you like you were a bunch of buffoons or, at the very least, the fact that his team was laughing up a storm in the background...but having been as starved of him as you were, all you could do was laugh while relishing in the feeling of his warmth consuming every part of your body as he leaned down again to plant a feverish kiss to your lips.

Feet tapped against the small tile floors of the elevator, thumping against the marble in a rhythm that embodied the very dread of its owner.

After months of dreading this day, Sae had, once again, stepped foot in Japan; a notion he refused to even utter aloud from just how much he despised it.

For a man with such negative opinions about his homeland, his reasons for coming back were quite frivolous in comparison. Though if asked, he lie and say that his passport expired—which wasn't wrong—but deep down he knew the real reason for his return; his partner who he was too prideful to call the love of his life.

It had took some time, and for a while, Sae was forced to come back here every other year or so in secret to visit them per their request, but at last, they had decided that so much time waiting for his semi-yearly visits were too much for their poor heart and that they were ready to take the next step and leave with him to Spain.

Sae had pushed the thought to the very back of his mind, but he was more than glad—overjoyed, even—when you told him of your decision over the phone as he himself was starting to grow restless without you by his side at times.

He had already went through the process of renewing his passport so all that was left was to pick you up and drive to the airport—well, get driven to the airport—where he could finally leave this horrendous country, this time with you snuggled up by his side.

But he should've known that you wouldn't have let things be so simple.

As the doors to the elevator opened and allowed him to, at last, step foot into your lavish home, the symphony of his demise began to rang throughout it and bounce of the walls. Sae paused, face contorting into one of visible perplexment before his eyes widened at the sight of you sliding on your knees towards him, mouth opened as you sang to the beat of the music blasting throughout your home.

Your performance was short, glorious, and came to an end when your face was buried into the smooth fabric of your boyfriend's clothing and you smoothly wrapped your arms around your boyfriend's waist.

And it was only a full minute after such an amazing performance that it finally dawned on him what you were doing. And to that, he simply sighs disappointedly.

"I've changed my mind. You're not going anywhere with me," He said, and despite the blunt tone he douses his words in, it does little to your dazzling smile as you knew full well his words held little weight to them. You find yourself playing into your own bullshit anyways, though, as you begun to whine out in a high pitch you just knew he couldn't stand.

"Aww, but why? All I did was greet my pookie--" "Finish that sentence and I will actually leave you in Japan for another ten years."

You promptly shut your mouth after that, much to Sae's relief.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[5:24 pm]

"Nice try, we don't believe you guys," your friend laughed sarcastically as they walked through your front door to catch sight of you and childhood best friend!Jeno pressed together looking like a loved up couple.

For some reason, over the nearly 20 years of friendship with Jeno, it had become some kind of ongoing bit for the two of you to act like a couple. Usually you had good reason, like someone being annoying and not leaving either of you alone, or someone hitting on either one of you but not getting the hint.

Other times, it was just to mess with your friends, your friends who were far too used to it and tired of it. At least 80% of the hang outs you all had would start with you and Jeno claiming you were a couple. The first few times they fell for it, but now it was just the normal. They weren't tired because it wasn't funny, it was kind of funny. Funny because the two of you were so clearly in love with each other yet refuse to act on it.

Jeno never protected anyone the way he protected you. You didn't care for anyone the way you cared for Jeno. You both had so many inside jokes that the others would never understand. You both could have conversations with just your eyes, you both knew things about the other that no normal friends would know about each other. You were both each other's first call when something went wrong, the first text in the morning, and your last text at night (if you didn't fall asleep while on a call). You both refused to get into relationships with other people, because somethings always felt "wrong."

Yeah, your friends had all decided that you were both idiots and the "wrong-ness" was always just that the potential partner wasn't you or Jeno. However, tonight you and Jeno had decided to commit. Your friends were going to believe it if it was the last thing they did.

"We're actually like really together this time, today is officially one week and 3 days," you tell your friends as you all settle down on the couch to start your movie marathon.

"We've fallen for that too many times now. Just give it up," your friend waves off.

"Yeah, start the movie," another friend sighs.

Jeno gulps, standing suddenly, "I think we would really just appreciate the support of our friends as we navigate our new relationship."

"Look guys, it's the same routine every time. You guys claim to be together and the only difference is that you take your usual affection to another level of annoying. If you were ever actually together, you wouldn't feel the need to announce it every few weeks or still be on dating apps. I mean, Jeno, didn't you ask me just a few days ago why you were still getting Hinge emails?" Your first friend asks, crossing their arms.

"Plus, I think you guys would be that annoying couple that would be shameless and kiss in front of us all the time," another friend pipes up.

Jeno's face falls into a serious look, he grabs your hand and tugs you up. Your chest crashes into his own as your eyes widen in surprise. The plan had simply been to cuddle, giggle, and maybe sit in his lap.

Your friends all paused, eyes full of caution as they watched the two of you. Jeno's breathing was uneven and nervous as his eyes searched your own.

You blinked and his forehead was pressed against your own and as you gasped in surprise his lips met your own. He was still for just a moment, giving you the opportunity to pull away, to smack him, to tell him he was crazy, but you didn't.

Instead, your breath hitched as you kissed him back. His lips were soft and his hands even softer as he delicately cupped your face. Your lips moved in sync, slow, tentative, but meaningful. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, his heart was beating just as fast under your hand.

Your friends all eyed each other awkwardly. This had never happened before. It was only when your hand moved from Jeno's chest to gripping the cotton at his waist to pull him closer that they all got the message and left while high fiving each other on the way out.

You and Jeno were far too entangled in one another to even care. One of hands went from your face to your waist and the other went to the back of your neck. His gently tilted your head up to kiss you more deeply.

Everything was slow and passionate, but it felt right. There were explosions happening all around you, remnant sparks from Jeno's lips that shot right down your spine. Why had you waited so long to do this? Why had you deprived yourself of this feelings for all these years? You couldn't even fight how your body melted against his as your grip on his shirt became desperate and your lungs burned for air. You couldn't find it in yourself to pull away, too greedy for more, more, more.

Jeno pulled away first, lips swollen and chest heaving as he caught his breath. His forehead was pressed against your own, "I don't think we can be friends anymore."

A choked squeak escaped your throat involuntarily, "I'm sorry?"

"No, don't be sorry. I could have said that better," Jeno chuckles, his hands softly cupping your face to keep you from looking away. "I can't be just friends with you when I don't have friendly feelings for you. I can't believe it took this long, it's always been something in the back of my mind, but I think I love you-- no. I know I love you."

"After that kiss, I don't have friendly feelings for you either. I guess when I think about it, there's no one else that will get me like you. No one will ever know me better than you or understand me like you do. I love you too, Jeno. And I really, really want to keep kissing you," You confess breathlessly.

"I don't think they'd like it if we keep kissing, unfortunately," Jeno sighs, despite his words leaning in toward you again.

It's then that you notice how quiet your living room is. You pull away to look around the room, finally noticing that it's just you and Jeno in your apartment. "What the... when did everyone leave?" You wonder aloud.

"Who cares? Let's keep kissing," Jeno replies, tugging you closer. And who are you to argue?

[tanddiscord]

The funny thing is, both are coming from a valid angle, rooted on good theory... They've just both mangled it utterly. Communal eating has been part of human society for, well, all of human society. Offloading the task of cooking onto select individuals, lowers the overall burden of food prep (It takes less total work time for one person to prep a meal for 10 than for 10 people to individually prep their own meals), and is something that is underutilised as a social and support structure. Reclaiming food prep into a communal setting can be a valuable thing to do, either in the form of cheap, (probably subsidised) eateries (not restaurants), where you don't go for exactly what you're craving at that moment, but where you know "from 4 to 6 I can get a cheap meal here, and eat it alongside other locals.... Oh, today's beef stew, i love that, I'll absolutely go today", or, with less top-down organisation, forming small collectives where you take turns cooking larger batches of food, either to eat as a group, or (since seating a sizable group in private homes is not always feasible or desirable), serve as a cheap, regular sorta takeaway, can be a way to reclaim not only communal eating but also lower costs (both labour and material) associated with food. At the same time, in the absence of such structures and communal actions, preparing your own food is, well, a smart thing to make your default option, and certainly, there are forms of socialist/communist world structures that do not have space for high end, luxury restaurants, and valid (though counter to my own) socialist worldviews, where "food artistry" is too wastefully to be part of a utopian vision. All the takes actually outlined here though, are just batshit insane. Calling someone bourgeois for eating at restaurants every now and then, or calling home cooking regressive, is just fucking silly. What the hell are they even on about? Cooking your own food is Nimby aligned? Come the fuck off it ya bloody wanker.

dialectics

[chlmtsdoll]

hear me out

reader and girl friends dancing and drinking at a nightclub after work when one of the girls says something like "holy shit, look at those two, they're hot"

when reader turns to look, she sees Patrick and Art laughing and having fun together

"i want the brunette one", one says, "are you crazy? look at the blonde, how hot he is", another responds.

"fifty bucks for whoever gets both"

reader smiles. it's showtime.

OH? IT’S GIVING SATC 🤭

This was supposed to be short but I got carried away I’m afraid ! 🎀 | 18 + smut, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m) receiving, heavy obnoxious flirting, kinda messy reader

When the club had been this crowded with a full dance floor and beautiful men nearly everywhere you looked, finally letting loose after a long work week with your girls was enough motivation to get the confidence pumping between the three of you.

Your friends were frozen. Facing the the bar area where this six foot blonde and brunette were standing, laughing like everything around them was funny. One had an infectious grin, hair untamed and a tight dark skirt that show cased his brooding arms. He was the tallest and had ‘a party girls wet dream’ written all over him. The other slightly more polished, could pass for the stereotypical Ken doll type with his charming smile, sterling blue eyes with golden locks combination. You couldn’t find why he would be here, he looked like the only interested in finding a wife type.

Either way, the two men had your thighs pushing against one another the second the girls began chattering about. And once you heard ‘fifty bucks for whoever can get both’ your ears were all game.

“Oh, I am so in. That brunette is scorching.”

“And ? Look at that blondes jawline, bitch.”

“Double the pay if they both finish.” You announce. Both of your girlfriend’s locks go up in the air as they whip around to see the smirk pulling at your lips. They quickly take upon one of their own as well.

“Oh… the competition just got serious.” One of them says.

“It’s been serious. Those guys are totally loaded..” The other comments.

Your eyebrow dips. “What makes you think that ?”

“Oh come on, what two guys that hot are going to come to the club and not be looking to spend their cash on a girl ?”

Her theory wasn’t too out of range. There was something quite different from the boys across from you all. Setting them apart from the other clueless guys around just trying to get as drunk as they possibly can. There was a more tamed and calculated aura to these two. Something that made them not only sexy, but stand out profoundly.

“..or, they could just be gay.” The other girl replies casually and the three of you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

You giggle, slightly rolling your eyes to land on the two men occasionally eyeing the dance floor as if they’re considering joining in the crowd. And that’s when you caught the gaze of the one with the darker head of hair, he flashed you a smile that sent a thrill straight to your core. You tried not to blush so terribly your friends would be on to you and raise the stakes.

But you couldn't help but ponder if they’d been right too — not about the gay thing, but if they truly we’re packing bills.

And soon you found yourself worrying less about what was in you and your friends wallets, and whatever was in theirs.

“Okay. Let’s get in there. Game on.”

You and your girls were heading over to the bar, tight mini skirts and all with just the right amount of cleavage on display for your upcoming play date. And with hardly any nerves that you’d loose to the two, knowing you had it locked in with the way you just got checked out hard from the brunette all the way across the bar had your hopes high.

As you all were now getting ready to own that bar area, you let your friends have a try at playing with the men first — and it was certainly quite amusing to watch them try to flirt with both the blonde and brunette at the same time.

With fingers twirling in their hair, laughing a little too hysterically at whatever was said and trying to keep both of their attention, you wondered from observation if it crossed them that it wasn’t as easy as they’d think. One of the boys was either off staring at another cute girl or just looking for a drink when your friends hadn’t been trying to sweet talk them into a little more fun. The most they got was a couple flattering laughs from the two.. and you couldn’t help but chuckle yourself, their game play was adorable.

But they failed where you knew best. Multitasking.

So when it was your turn to get your head in the game, one of your friends walking past you in defeat from her attempt whispered, “totally gay.” in your ear post her rejection from the charming boys. You tried not to laugh in her face but you did crack and grin.

You were up next. And you wasted no time going in.

You played it all out in your head within a few minutes of taking note of the two and also of course where your friends lacked. It would be an easy job especially since you spent your week trying to sell to people at work. You knew charm like the back of your hand — soon enough you’d be making out with these guys in the back of the club in no time.

Hips swayed without any real effort as you found where the brunette had been standing nearby the vault of vodka and steely liquor at the bar. Purposefully leaning against the counter and close enough to his side for him to hear you call to get one of the bartenders attention, “Um- - could I get another drink ??” You attempted. But with it being rush hour, they'd all been too occupied.

And that’s when your plan started to make the magic happen.

The towering man beside you glanced over his shoulder at your presence, noticing you weren’t getting any luck with the attention of the bartenders and he inspected your soft and sweetened voice pretty quickly. But also with just how edible he thought you were from earlier, “what do you want, doll face ?” he turned to face you with a grin that was as overwhelmingly striking as they come. It could have made any girl want to drop her panties at the sight. And his voice sounded as if he knew that he absolutely could, “it’s packed in here, yeah ? I’ll get someone for you.”

If it wasn’t for your determination, you would have erupted into a melted pile on the ground after he winked down at you. “Oh- no, it’s fine. I’m sure my friends annoyed you enough.” You laughed lightly and he joined along with you.

“Nah, they’re cute girls… but I gotta admit, I was kinda hopin’ you’d be the one to come over and annoy me a little bit.” His eyes focused on the way your lips curled up into a swayed smile and your face was flustered quicker than the flashing lights on the ceiling. He could be bluffing. And he probably was. Even though that was supposed to be your job here — it was totally working.

You titter, “..really ?”

“Really.”

“Well than, I guess I stumbled into the right spot.” (You wanted to pat yourself on the back. You’d been farther ahead than you even assumed.) “What do they call you ?”

“Patrick, a hell of a fun time, Zweig. Your pick.” his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he took a swing of his drink, and you were all laugher as his green eyes followed you from over the rim.

This was when you could implement the gorgeous blonde to his right — eyeing off to a couple of girls on the floor. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you step a little closer to Patrick, glance going from him to other handsome work of art beside. The space getting less and less personal between you two didn’t scare him either.

“Well, Patrick… who’s your friend- - ?” Your eyes darted to where he stood and the brunette hit his poor friend in the chest to get his attention on you, when he did, you noticed the uniqueness of his eyes up close. You could of seen it from across the bar — but this is another level. Some kind of otherworldly matter, it got you choked up for a moment.

He was about to make you bank.

“This is Art.”

Of course it is.

Your were trying not to drool as you took a little too long to examine the way Art leaned up with a miniature straw pressed against his pretty lips with a soft sideways smirk,

“I think he’s a cutie..” You sputter as you bit your lip with a cheeky smile. Trying not to get lost in Arts gaze — you had to remember the goal, get your head in the game to why you’d walked over here in the first damn place.

“I think you’re both pretty cute..”

“Yeah?” Patrick chuckled and grinned at his friend, they looked at each other like it had been some hidden kind of communication. Like they already knew what the other was trying to say telepathically. That was a signal to you that this was for sure a package deal — you’d have both of them tonight. Not only did they welcome it, but they’d probably been here for that exact motive.

Art gave you a little smile, “We had our eye on you the whole night honestly, so that’s good to know…”

There it is.

You laughed a bit and shrugged. Eyes following back to the darker haired one. “So I heard..”

“How come you aren’t out there?” Art nodded to the dance floor full of bodies, his eyes ran over you, “you’re a stunning girl.. no way none of these guys asked you to dance.”

You hoped to god you weren’t getting flustered. They’re just boys. Ones that you needed to be bedded by till the sun came up, but still.

“I’m- uh.. a bit shy.” (You weren’t. You had your fair share of men in and out of your apartment. Not as stunning as Art and Patrick although, so making them feel extra special wasn’t too much of a stretched truth.) “so it’s rare I even talk to guys.. but you two- - I just had to say something.” You giggled and they were leaning into your laughter with their own. You could swear you smelled Burberry cologne being sent your way from one of them, if not both. Maybe your friends had been right about the wealth.

Art and Patricks attention had been solidly on you. And you didn’t know if it was the way you decided to style your hair tonight, and the way you made sure to keep lustful but sweet eyes between them, or if your friends just sucked at flirting. But you were already yearning to keep this going.

It was time to throw them a curve to lock in their undivided for the rest of the night.

“Well- - I should get back to my friends, they probably think it’s way odd of me to even be over here..” you tittered with a soft goodbye smile as you began to turn away from the men and before you could even step away from the countertop, “wait!” was being called your way from over your shoulder.

A smirk was ridden on your lips once again. You turned back to face their pitch with curiosity.

“Stay a little longer?” Patrick asked of you with a beam.

“Yeah, let us buy you a drink.. what are you? An espresso?”

“No. Man, she’s a cosmo girl, trust me. You are- - aren’t you?” When the brunette corrected his friend, blue and green orbs focused on your answer in desperation you’d keep them a little more company. And you couldn’t help your decisive but giddy expression that was all too pleased with your work here.

“I am actually, yes.” You chuckled before taking a stand between the two tall and handsome men with much more than a quick fuck and collecting your rewards on your mind now. You actually sort of liked them. And that was rare with any man you’d meet doing an activity like clubbing, especially two of them.

As time went on, Art and Patrick were racking up on buying you drink after drink. As many as you wanted. Within as little as an hour that passed, you’d been with the two boys as if you’d known them your entire life. It could have been borderline love bombing with how fast you went from zero to a hundred. Both men simultaneously wrapping their arms around you from behind, laughing loudly as you’d been glued between the two of them. Even dancing in ways more than a couple flirts could have gotten you.

The boys were more than happy to keep tipping the bartenders with haughty smirks after getting you sparked up and hanging on their arms of course, even having one too many of their own. The three of you took it to the lounge area and your friends would be somewhere watching in disbelief and slight envy of how quickly you were able to get handsy with Art and Patrick.

You’d been passed back and forth on their laps as you chatted and even snuck a couple kisses by now. Totally giddy off their energy and the liquids they’d been giving you. The way Art had slipped his wallet back into his back pocket after buying you another drink, was a straight turn on to the point you’d been sticking sugary kisses to his neck as he did so with a couple playful bites, the man grinned at your bubbly essence. Your not so careful hands slid up his chest and slung over his shoulders, “Mmm- -You’re the sweet one aren’t you?” You giggle, finger tips run over his jaw and Art bit down on his peachy lip while he held on to your hips nice and easy, yet with a respectful distance. He couldn’t find the words to define the way he’d been enjoying the way you stroked his ego all night long.

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s actually a menace.” Patrick scoffed as he sat man spread in the seat across from you two with a cigarette in hand.

“Fuck off.” His friend defended lightly. It was the way you could tell he enjoyed the playful banter when Patrick poked at him tonight that solidified to you just how close they really were. You thought it was adorable.

“You two really do everything together, huh?” You toyed with Arts now loose collar, casually sipping on something clear with flirtatious eyes, and the man shrugged a bit as he glanced at the brunette across from him who was hiding a sardonic kind of look behind his glass.

“I mean, well- - somethings..” The blonde nodded with a soft smile, but you raised a brow. “Most things.” He corrected, he and Patrick narrowed eyes at one another. You noticed with a devious little hum at the way the blonde had still been holding back. It made your lips turn up with a grin, watching between the two as Art struggled to confess the obvious. “Okay. Yeah- kind of.. everything.” With a flustered look towards the brunette, Arts eyes trailed off with a sort of blush as you leaned into his shoulder. All close to the blue eyed man getting harshly coy now.

“That’s so cute. Like brothers..” you smiled in Patrick’s direction and he immediately let out heavy laughter.

“Not exactly.” The other man grinned. You tilted your head some, and looked at Art again with wonder in your eyes.

“Like.. lovers ?” Your eyes were wide as you focused on the blonde and he shook his head and drowned out his flustered expression with a swing from his glass. Patrick had smirked at your final conclusion, but still, the two gave you not a significant confirmation spite lingering looks and the newfound heat coming from Arts body.

Holy fuck

not just one, but both your friends had been right.

You were already one step ahead with more questions to coax out of the two if a bartender hadn’t interrupted with a new round of shots and your mind was quickly occupied as you ‘ooo’d’ at the tray being set beyond you. Patrick met your gaze and grinned. “Baby, come take one with me,” you were cheerfully being swapped from Arts lap to Patrick’s — bouncing over his way and also grabbing a shot with him.

A quick clink of your glasses filled the air along with your energetic giggles as the man who groped you with firmness in his lap contrast Art, drowned the substance at the same time. Patricks roaming hands were coarse and just as bold as he was when you straddled him after letting the liquor flow down your throat with ease, you wiped your stained lips with the back of your palm.

“Shit.. you took that so well, pretty girl..” Patrick took the glass from your hands, his hooded eyes stayed on you with a smirk. You brushed your fingers over the light stubble to his chin and leaned in close,

“I can take a lot of things pretty well.” You whispered so only he could hear with a smile, you scanned the area proudly as you were very aware of the show you’d been putting up all night. Patrick shifted in his seat with arousal, lips inches away from yours so you went in deep with a kiss.

The man groaned, “Is that so?” He pushed your hips farther into his lap as you’d been lipping off his jaw with a prideful giggle. You were messing with the hem of his shirt as you remembered you still had your own benefit of the deal to seal — getting the boys somewhere you could have your way with them. You came this far, why stop now when you’d been so close to victory?

“Mmhm… want me to show you how?”

Your words were music to the brunettes ears. His eyebrows rose as he watched you lean up with a grin, intertwining your fingers through his knuckles and Patrick stood as you were able to grab Arts attention too. Abruptly stripping him of his seat as well. “oh- - we’re going somewhere else..” the blonde rushed to follow where you’d been leading for a little more privacy. A secluded vip party section that you were a hundred percent not allowed in without a fee — but something about the trespassing turned you on even more. With a finger to your lips, you gave the two a silent “shh” along with your little grin and lustful eyes. They were all in with arousal and eager hands to get on you anyways.

You had gone to the nervously flattered one first. Taking his hands to wrap them around your waist, you stood on your toes to press your lips against his, carefully moving your jaw with Art and melting into the dance of it on instant. Your fingertips crawl through his butterscotch tinted curls like you couldn’t get enough. Art went to a little bit of a risk, he didn’t stop his hands from slipping to grip your ass beneath your tight skirt.

“Mmm.. easy blondie- -” you giggled with a soft push to his collarbone so he’d been a tad away from you once again, and Art finally let himself breathe with a mumbled curse coming from his lips.

You then made your way to the brunette beside him — but before you could even take your stance, the man pulled you in without a warning. Pressing his broad body against you as he collided his mouth with yours in one swift motion and your whimpers had been an immediate reaction by the way Patrick left sloppy kisses wherever he could. Down your neck, over the top of your chest. You grinned as you eyed the man next to him while Patrick tore into your skin.

You found the vile rising tent in Arts jeans quite cute.

You let your hand trail to where his button began and you undid it as quick as you could with the way Patrick had been holding your body like some kind of rag doll. Art helped you unzip them, and when Patrick had flung you around so your back was flush against his chest, your jaw was unleashed as you squealed.

“You really aren’t shy are you?” His voice was richer than before — full of the whisky and pent up from the foreplay of the last hour making you let out a loose laugh while the man pushed past your messy hair to kiss on your neck.

“I am- - but even the quite ones have our needs.. right, Art?”

The blonde let out a coy chuckle before his blush took over more of his expression and with that you had been hiking up your skirt to tuck your thumbs into the hem of your panties to pull them down your thighs. “Oh, shit.. shit” Art was already softly groaning as you used his undone belt buckle as leverage to get the lacy pair from your feet and he watched with overwhelming interest in the way Patrick caught your drift and started to get his own belt gone faster than you got them into that room.

“Fuck” Patrick, equally aroused, groaned when he had got his hardened dick out of his boxers. Your mind was so clouded from the tension of the way he grabbed on to your clothed breasts behind your top, rummaging to find your sensitive nipples — you were panting from the friction of his throbbing member that was far ready to fuck you senseless, just brushing against your upper thigh. You bit down on your lip hard as you looked up at the finely built man behind you who had a smirk stuck to his face before he toyed at your already slick pussy with his fingers.

“Go on… put it in- -” your drunken mind went fuzzy when the dark haired man started to slide through your walls, your hand went slapping against whatever you could reach in the confined space you’d been in as a full moan escaped you — your eyes fluttered from the way Patrick stretched you open on his cock. Keeping both hands on your hips so you didn’t fall over as your legs already begun to go weak. He didn’t even hesitate to plunge into you with a grunt. “I wasn’t- - even planning on.. fucking you tonight, but fuck, I knew you wanted it.” Patrick groaned out while he snapped his hips against your ass and you turned into a mess of whimpers. You’d been in a slight arch for his entrance, cunt clenching around his length so much so you were sure to turn into a stuttering mess within minutes.

Arts reddened cock was on your mind as he’d been right ahead of you just in reach of your sloppy fuck with the brunette. And as “Oh ! Fuck.. yes, yes” was being thrusted out of you, you still reached out to start stroking him. Art hissed on contact with your warm palms on his shaft like you’d been a pro. And he was gorgeous, eyebrows knitted away as he melted into your heavenly coax of his dick, stiff enough to cum right then just from the voyeurism of it all.

“Baby.. faster- - just like that..” Art groaned before putting a hand on your waist that was being rutted by his friend. You spit on your hand quickly before going back to use it on Art. Your legs were in fact giving out — but the bliss due to the man fucking into you was just too good to let go to waste.

“Patrick..keep fucking me- - mmm.. please, it feels so-so good.” You whine while your wetness sticks to the curve of your inner thighs, you could hear the man’s haughty snicker run through your ears. He was now digging his fingers into your hips, slowing his movements to watching himself pump in and out of your hole with rhythm.

“Hold still, sweet girl.. I’m gonna make you cum- -”

That wasn’t what you needed. But what the heck.

With Patrick pounding a couple cries out of you down the line, he'd been putting his hands roughly in your hair to push you over the ledge as you began to make a mess on his twitching cock. “Mmmh.. f-fuck- yes..!” You couldn’t give a damn at how loud you were being. Your creamy juices were left on the man as he wasted no time to pull out of you and start pumping away at his cock on your backside. Using the wall as a rest with his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he released ropes of his cum on to the dip of your back with a low grunt. By the time he tapped the last few drops on your ass, you had a teasing little hazy smile on your face and Patrick held you up again like used goods.

You got one down. You already knew with a few strokes of your tongue, Art would have that sweet release too. So you got on your knees without a question and attached your generous lips around the blondes member. He closed his eyes to feel the heated wetness of your mouth closing on him. “Oh god,” he panted as you suctioned your lips around his tip and he most naughty kind of sounds leaving you as you sucked a climax from Art at the same time. The feeling of his cock down your throat mixed with the moaning through the moment his cum flows through, made your mouth feel all full and fucked out. Art cursed at the way you looked too pretty taking him on your knees like this — but he thought you were far too comely to be down there for long, so as soon as you swallowed he helped you rise to your feet with a small stumble, but the man managed to keep you aligned as he grabbed hold of you with a soft grin.

“You’re too good, even drunk. I mean, shit..” Patrick panted as he observed your state. Just like before. Arms flung over Arts shoulders as you leaned into him with flirtatiousness.

“You fuck good.” You eyed him back, your voice was a little too impressed to the brunette, but he was appreciative of the acknowledgement. You had focused on the blonde again, whose chest was against yours, running your finger over his cheek in playfulness with a small giggle.

“And you have to play Ken in me next time..”

He looked down as he just couldn’t help himself but shy away from your compliment. “next time, huh ?” Art questioned with a soft chuckle, You nodded and kept your place temptingly close to the blondes lips. “Well then, we’ve gotta get you home first.”

After Patrick and Art insisted on paying for your Uber back to your apartment, they were also nearly begging for your number as well — and after a few waters to sober up, and a kind hearted snap of your seatbelt from one of the boys, you eventually did give in.

You nearly forgot you had a pay to pick up from your friends at your hangover brunch the next morning, and of course the girls wanted all the details about everything from the previous night while bills were paid to you gladly.

You planned on giving the two hot guys at the bar a few handjobs and kisses at the beginning, but exposing to your friends that you’d go to cum on Patrick’s cock while you jerked off Art and sealed your deal was an extra bonus being as they both ended up being as sweet as they come.

Maybe two boyfriends wouldn’t hurt.

[jingler]

Wizard 101 Dashboard Simulator (set in arc 1)

0 notes

⛈️ fuckfizzles Follow

Hot take but I shouldn't see any life wizards hogging all the health wisps after almost dying in a dungeon for the 50th time. Don't yall have your decks full of nothing but healing spells already 🙄

⚖️ bladesprinter Follow

why is it always the fizzle-addicts being lifephobic

⛈️ fuckfizzles Follow

Why's it always wizards from the weakest schools crying about schoolphobia

⚖️ bladesprinter Follow

mad because you fizzled again arent you

125 notes

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

what's this opaque wizard doing running around dragonspyre lmao

🧭 spiralexplorer38 Follow

OP are you......are you not opaque?

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

um.....no??? i'm translucent like everyone else

🎇 lenora-bitchcrow Follow

Is someone gonna tell them

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

TELL ME WHAT

🐮 mooooooooooshu Follow

How familiar are you with the name Malistaire?

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i think he was a year or two above me in the academy??? what does he have to do with anything????

🐈 marleyboner Follow

im just gonna leave this link for you op: https://spiralpedia.com/malistaire/dragonspyre

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

I'M DEAD???????

⛲️ wysting-away Follow

HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW

🔫 undeadstalker Follow

how is a ghost using spiralblr

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i'm translucent, not incorporeal idiot. and sorry it was kinda hard to tell when EVERYONE in my world ghosted at the same time.

✨️ chad-dickbringer Follow

I FINALLY FOUND THIS POST

⏳️ spiralingdownwardsfast Follow

Oh my titan I only ever saw this post in wandcaps

⛰️ goatedonmooshu Follow

need an update from op on how theyre handling being dead

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i still don't get why some ghosts get to be mysteriously hooded by a shroud and im just translucent me.

23.1k notes

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Honestly DNI if you support the Young Wizard. Since when is murdering banshees okay just because they're hanging out outside?

🌿 bearingclaws Follow

Imagine being so privileged you don't have to worry about being literally killed every time you leave your home because of Malistaire

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

I'm literally from colossus boulevard. And you know what? We made peace with the gobblers instead of just killing them for wanting a place to stay

🧨 themiddleagedwizard Follow

Ohhhhh my titans. You know WHO made peace with the gobblers FOR you? The young wizard. Anti yws don't even know how much they've done for them.

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Even if that were true, you telling me to shut up and be grateful a crazed child solider is slaughtering hundreds of people when I never asked them to do that is not helping your case lmao

🌿 bearingclaws Follow

It's always wizards from peaceful zones critiquing the young wizard and forgetting that we're literally IN A WAR. I don't even think the young wizard has a choice in it because they are literally a minor. Complain to ambrose about it but don't hate on people who are finally getting to experience some peace after malistaire completely fucked their lives over.

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Whatever keep relying on a child solider to fix all your problems but don't be surprised if they get addicted to all that killing and become the next malistaire

🧨 themiddleagedwizard Follow

You CANNOT seriously be comparing the young wizard to malistaire i

Expand

5,480 notes

❄️ iceytears Follow

being a goth but not a necromancer is so funny. sorry for the confusion I can't actually raise ghouls from the dead I just know that black eyeliner is hot.

273 notes

🐴 diegosdick-andballs Follow

at this point whoevers going to save the spiral is gonna come from some dumb world named dirt or some shit

🦄 uniquelymyway Follow

The original date of this post is crazy

🐴 diegosdick-andballs Follow

I forgot about this post holy shit?!

🍖 gobblinthatass Follow

20.3k notes

🛡 meetmeatthearena Follow

I know that ambrose isn't a deathphobe but it's very funny how from an outsider's perspective it definitely looks that way. Like welcome to my academy here's all these beautiful buildings and trees for the other schools meanwhile the death school is just like. Hole.

🎩 strongermarleyboner Follow

op casually forgetting the balance school exists

🛡 meetmeatthearena Follow

I don't think ambrose even knows the balance school exists

4,346 notes

👻krokpenceee Follow

Introducing Krokpenceee Heals

So I noticed how unhappiness can really plague us. Sometimes the spiral throws so many hit spells at us. It prevents us from being happy and free-spirited. I really want to reach out and help people break free of certain negative patterns in their lives, so I’ve created Krokpenceee Heals. I am an extremely intuitive and empathetic individual. I will never judge or disclose any of your problems to anyone. I will help you transcend confusion, and self-limiting beliefs so that you can be the best version of yourself. 

🔥 dragula-fireblade Follow

aren't you the krok whose family owns a mander slave

12.4k notes

🍑 youngwizard-official Follow

malistaire's not gonna know what's coming when i hit him with my massive dong

🎃 darkcavelurker Follow

why is this the only post on the young wizard's tumblr

🧵 stitchbitchly Follow

Probably too busy doing the gangnum style over the corpses they create

[doeeyeseddie]

your shoulders brush (no proof, one touch)

“It’s not funny,” Buck whines. “I just thought– we have– were having a good time together. And he’s been so great through the whole figuring myself out, he made me feel so, um, so secure in my sexuality, you know?” “Well, you’re not any less bisexual if you’re not dating him,” Eddie shrugs. “So I guess he didn’t feel the same way, then?” “Kind of?” Buck turns on the couch and pulls one of his legs up. His knee nudges Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie is suddenly very aware that he’s not wearing pants. ~ a coda to 8x06

1.1k, rated G [read on ao3]

[gilbertscurls]

Stuck With You ➵ Matt Sturniolo

Matt sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through channels as he waited for you to come back from the kitchen. You had insisted on making popcorn for your movie night, though he knew you’d likely burn it or set the microwave to the wrong time, like always.

“Hey, Matt, do we put the popcorn on one minute or two?” your voice called from the other room.

He smirked to himself. Called it.

“Two minutes, but stop it early if it starts slowing down,” he yelled back, leaning into the couch with a grin.

“Right. Got it,” you replied, your tone filled with your usual confidence despite the fact you always asked the same question every time. He shook his head, already anticipating your probable victory over yet another microwaved snack.

Moments later, you appeared in the doorway, triumphantly holding a large bowl of popcorn. “Success! No burnt kernels this time,” you announced, plopping down next to him, your head resting against his shoulder.

“I’m impressed,” he teased, draping an arm around you. “You’re really stepping up in the world.”

You laughed, shoving a handful of popcorn into his face. “Shut up. I’m practically a chef.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” he chuckled, stealing a piece of popcorn from the bowl. “Master of all things microwaveable.”

You settled into their usual spots, your feet tucked under his legs while you scrolled through the endless sea of romantic comedies on the streaming service. He already knew which one you’d pick; you had a habit of rewatching the same movies over and over, and tonight would be no different.

“Ooh, let’s watch The Proposal again,” you said, your eyes lighting up as you hovered over the familiar title.

Matt groaned playfully. “Again? Haven’t you seen that movie like… fifty times?”

“Only like ten,” you corrected with a smile. “But come on, you know you secretly love it.”

He sighed dramatically but clicked on the movie anyway. “Fine, but I reserve the right to make fun of every cheesy line.”

“Deal,” you grinned, cuddling closer as the movie began.

The opening credits rolled, and soon enough, you were lost in the predictable but comforting story of romance, witty banter, and happy endings. Every so often, you would mutter along with your favorite lines, your voice a soft echo of the characters on screen.

Matt wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, though. Instead, his mind kept wandering to how normal this all felt—how natural it was to have you here, your head against his shoulder, your legs tangled with his, as if you’d always belonged there.

“You know,” you said during a lull in the movie, your voice casual but thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” he teased, nudging you lightly. “That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, poking him in the side. “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about us.”

His heart skipped a beat, though he kept his expression relaxed. “Yeah? What about us?”

You sat up slightly, turning to face him. “About how we’re always together. Like… we spend more time together than most couples I know. And we’re not even sick of each other.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood light despite the way his chest tightened at your words. “Speak for yourself. I’m definitely sick of you.”

“Liar,” you grinned, lightly smacking his arm. “But seriously, it’s kinda funny, isn’t it? How we’ve just… become this. Like we’re stuck together.”

Matt’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the playful banter fading for a moment. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We kind of are.”

You smiled, leaning your head back against his chest. “Well, I guess there are worse people to be stuck with.”

He chuckled at your words, his chest tightening at the thought of being stuck with you. Stuck with your sass, your clinginess, your endless chatter.

Stuck with your love for cheesy romantic comedies, your inability to cook anything that didn't come from a packet, your habit of stealing all his hoodies.

He was stuck with you, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

[mrchiipchrome]

Girlfriends?

W.C. - 5.7 k

a/n: wonze kid is backkkkkkkkkk and with a bang.

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

Growing up in Sevilla, life was perfect. Three older brothers that encouraged your footballing ability practically from the second you took your first breath, a set of parents that pushed you to be the very best at everything, and an academy that proved to be the absolute best for your development made for a good childhood.

A quick learner by far, you had already started playing with girls twice your age when you were 10, and by age 12 (and a half) you had already started to train with the senior girls, not old enough to be allowed to play in matches. 

It was a weekly routine you had built up over the years, go train with the senior girls during the weekdays, school work completed during the afternoon, games with the girls your age on fridays, games with the U21s during the sunday afternoon. It was hectic, sure, but you were good, really good.

Some weeks you would have to skip the U21 matches in favor of tournaments with the other youth teams, which in turn gave you perhaps the best gift of your lifetime, a (by now) 5’6 brunette with the most encaptivating greenish eyes and the feistiest demeanor you’ll ever encounter.

Julia Romero, una true madridista.

Her white clad frame had been a constant in your life since you were practically too short to reach the kitchen table, as feisty as she always had been. 

That almost chaotic energy always translated onto the pitch, with creative passes and shots from distance being a regular occurrence in her game. She had your heart captured since the moment you’d first laid eyes on her.

Through the multitude of years you’d come to know each other, you had formed a special partnership both on and off the field, a connection that led to more than a few trophies for the youth national teams. 

A package deal as most would label you two as, playing for teams miles upon miles away from each other. It was funny when they (mostly parents of the other kids) would refer to you as that, a package deal. 

It was even funnier when they’d refer to you as twins, each fiery and competitive in your own rights, but knowing the hidden affections quickly developing, it just felt wrong.

The weekends you were meeting up to play against each other quickly became the highlights of your weeks, waiting patiently for the next opportunity to challenge the other. 

When, at the ripe age of 13, you both got your very own cell phones, communication became ten million times easier and in turn you became ten times more in love with the breakout madrid star. Best in Spain, Y/n/n and Juli. 

Strangely enough though, neither of you clocked the fact that you were both madly, undoubtedly, so in love with each other until that night when you both turned 14.

Julia always liked to boast about the fact that she was 10 minutes older than you, born right before midnight, whilst you were born right after midnight. 

Sitting on the hotel bed in your shared room at the under 21 Spain camp, the only players under the age of 17, you and your best friend obviously got to room together.

Right across from you sat Julia, with her normal mischievous smile, looking deeply into your eyes as the clock ticked down to midnight, anticipation filling her body more than your own. Your knees touch hers ever so slightly, you both sitting crisscrossed so that you’d be able to even fit on the bed in the first place.

“What are you going to wish for?” She asks, eyes wide in suspense, as if the answer had been something she had been waiting for since the dawn of time. Leaning back into the headboard, you look up towards the ceiling, contemplating (but not really at the same time) about what you would wish for as you blew out the lit match only minutes from now.

“Maybe a contract from Barcelona.” You tease, looking down at her unamused face, shrieking when she ‘attacks’ you, jumping onto your body and tickling your sides. “No, no, stop, stop, I won’t, I promise.” You gasp out between fits of laughter, Julia quickly retreating with a satisfied look on her face.

“Mhm, better keep that promise. I can’t stand seeing your little sad face when I beat you.” Laying down beside you, Julia starts the teasing again, the look on her face one of amusement, eyes widening as she notices the arms of the clock on the wall almost at midnight.

Watching her spring up from the bed, your eyes follow her all the way until she stops at her bag, pulling a box of matches out of the front compartment.

Pretending you weren’t just studying her entire being when she turns around, Julia makes her way back to the bed, resuming her position on the bed.

“Sit up lazy.” You roll your eyes at the playful insult slipping from her lips, begrudgingly sitting up and facing the shorter girl. 

She pulls out a match and strikes it against the match board, lighting up in the span of milliseconds before she holds it out closer to you, waiting for you to blow the flame out. It was the next best thing to a cake, with diets and all.

Actually pondering over what you would wish, only one thing comes to mind. 

Closing your eyes, you blow the flame out quickly, only one thing repeating in your mind as you do.

‘All I wish for is you, Julia.’

It puts a small smile on your lips, that much you can’t deny, and as you open your eyes you see the smile is mirrored by the girl across from you, her soft, plump lips stretching into that familiar smile you love oh so much.

“Soooo, what did you wish for?” She asks playfully, smirking at the silly smile painted on your face. 

“I don’t wish and tell Juli, those are the rules.” You make a play on the popular saying, backing away from her slowly, as if she wouldn’t notice. Her eyes narrow at you, like she knew something you didn’t.

“Oh really, that’s how it is?” She moves closer to you on the bed, knees just about touching now as she continues her interrogation, looking up at you through her painted lashes. 

“Mhm, that’s exactly how it is mi amor.” The casual nickname slips out from between your lips as she leans in closer to you, face only centimeters from your own. You see the way her eyes flick down to rest on your lips for just a second, her hands creeping onto your knees carefully, like she didn’t want to startle you.

You copy her, eyes looking down at the soft lips not too far away from yours, wanting nothing other than to just close the gap between you.

“Do it.” The faint whisper comes from the girl across from you, her lips barely parted as she speaks in that low faint tone, her eyes briefly meeting yours as they look up from your lips. Your eyes look back down at her lips, tongue peeking out to wet your lips quickly. “Kiss me.”

You don’t waste another second after that, leaning in and capturing her lips with your own. They were everything you could have hoped for and more, sweet like the candy you had shared before, with just the smallest hint of mango from the lipgloss she had put on earlier in the day. Her lips were soft like pillows and it felt like you were dreaming, in what world could she not be a figment of your imagination.

When she starts to pull away you chase after her lips, one taste of her and you were already hooked on the drug that is Julia Romero. 

“Was that what you wished for?” She asks, her hand pressing against the middle of your chest to almost stop you from catching her lips with yours again.

“Yes, you, all I wished for was you.” Julia smiles with her whole face, looking at you all sweetly like she always did, that love in her eyes stronger than ever. 

“Good, because that’s what I wished for too.” Your expression turns confused, like you couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“You wished for yourself too?” The girl has to keep herself from rolling her eyes at your stupidity, instead laying down on the bed just beside where you’re still sitting up and extending her arms out for you to crawl into.

“You’re a dumbass.” She says, laughing as you bury your face in her neck and sigh loudly, throwing your leg around her hips and pulling her entire body into yours.

“Yeah but I’m your dumbass.” Now that you knew she liked you, you would never let her go. And based on the way she laughed and hummed in agreement, you were pretty sure she liked the idea of that too.

—----------------------

The next few months go surprisingly well, with Julia coming down to visit on the weekends every month and you going up to Madrid two weeks after that. The months neither of you had time to visit, that’s when facetime was used the most. 

It hurt, not being able to see each other every day, but that was simply life. School and training started picking up again, especially as you had finally been moved up to the senior team permanently, playing in the dying minutes of games and even scoring at times.

But you knew that it would pay off, all the time spent on the pitch and away from your girlfriend, as you got to dedicate all the goals you scored to her. When you scored, the first thing you did was kiss the tape you always had around your wrist (from an old injury that still caused some pain), her name hidden beneath a layer of it, before you ran towards the camera at the corner flag to do your half of the duo celebration you’d both come up with years ago.

In reality it was just a handshake, but you did your half of it in front of the camera every time, no matter what, because you knew she was at home doing the other half.

That was until the last game of the 21/22 season, Sevilla v Barcelona. The team hadn’t lost a game the whole season, undefeated in Liga F and you wanted to break their streak. 

Definitely not because a certain someone was in the crowd, waving enthusiastically every time your eyes met as you warmed up. No, it wasn’t her. 

You wanted to impress her, not that you’d ever tell her that, seeing as you’d never hear the end of it if you did. 

Like usual, you sat on the bench for most of the game, exchanging silly faces with your girl, not even batting an eye as Barcelona hit the net one, two, three, four, five times. She was all you could focus on when you sat on the uncomfortable bench, leg bouncing up and down in anticipation for the call to get on the pitch.

“Y/l/n, it’s time, go warm up.” Your coach told you, watching with careful eyes as you started going through the motions of warming up. It was only the 65th minute, so you had plenty of time to make your mark on the game, like you wanted to.

Only a minute or two later you’re standing at the sidelines, looking back to where your girl is sitting for a bit of reassurance, the girl flashing a big smile and two equally enthusiastic thumbs up your way. Taking a big breath in, you breathe out through your mouth, holding your hands up for your teammate to slap as she makes her way off the pitch for you to enter.

“This is surely not what Barcelona have expected from Sevilla, 14 year old superstar in the making Y/n Y/l/n stepping onto the pitch, towering over her grown opponents as she takes her place in the striker position.” The commentators explain to the people watching the game online, looking on as the game restarts, the ball in Barcelona’s half. You can feel the atmosphere in the stadium, the small section of Sevilla fans cheering louder than the Barcelona fans for just a moment as you step on. 

The academy product, scoring against women twice her age most of the time, a superstar from their very own city. They had the right to be proud.

Loudest of all was your girlfriend, standing and cheering for you in one of your old Spain jerseys, as much as she did love you, there was no way that she would ever wear another team’s shirt.

The Barcelona team you were meeting was probably the most difficult team to play against, their skilled midfielders keeping the ball from you and the centerbacks keeping you from ever getting close to their goal. Still, you were nothing if not determined.

Getting the ball back to your feet, you think about all the videos you’d watched and analyzed of the opposing team, how they built up their attacks, how they closed down other teams, everything. All of it is in your head, you know them, you know how they play and you know how to use it to your advantage.

Starting your run through the middle of the pitch, the first player you encounter is Ana-Maria, her style was easy, and it was even easier to tap the ball between her open legs and push around her, continuing your run. 

The next player running towards you is a certain Aitana Bonmatí, undoubtedly one of the best players in the world and a player that’s more difficult to get through, given not only the technical skill she possesses but also the pure physicality of the shorter woman. Switching the ball onto your non-dominant foot, you quickly maneuver it to the other one, flicking the ball up in the air before taking advantage of the height difference to run around her and head the ball back down to your foot. 

Next up was Mapí Leon, a player that wouldn’t hesitate to use brute force to stop you from getting the ball in the goal, still, like Bonmati she was quite short. Running straight at her, like you predicted, she slides in to get the ball, only you’ve already chipped it straight over her outstretched legs, running to the edge of the penalty box. 

The last line of defense, Paños, the one you have the most trouble reading. The goalkeeper rushes out towards you, making herself as big as possible to be able to deflect any shot from your foot. The one thing she doesn’t realize is the fact that you have a knack for curling the ball around the keeper in the most infuriating way possible.

The whole team watches with stunned expressions as the ball travels towards the goal, landing in the bottom corner with a satisfying swish. Two minutes, that’s all it took for you to make your mark on the game, two damn minutes.

Running towards the Sevilla fans on the opposite side of the pitch, you dutifully kiss the tape on your wrist, then tap the badge atop your heart before stopping in front of your girlfriend, holding your hand out to do your celebration.

Moments later, after the whole handshake is done, you wink at her before taking your leave, not forgetting to bow down in front of the screaming fans. Sure, you were still 5-1 down, but you had just scored against the biggest team in the country so you were allowed to celebrate.

Returning to your position, the game restarts and you immediately notice the increased mancoverage on you, you could barely even get the ball before there would be an annoying Barcelona player breathing down your neck.

Using this to your advantage, you distracted the women around you as your teammates built up attacking plays. At the same time, you were still freshly on with loads of energy, leaving the tired players to chase after you as you made runs upon runs.

In the 76th minute you see your teammate run up the wing and you just know she needs a head to meet the ball she plays into the box. Running as fast as you can, you launch yourself up towards the ball, angling it down to the ground just inside the goal with your head, like a bird of sorts.

A brace off the bench against one of the best teams in the world, yeah that’s just something you would do. This time you run towards the cornerflag, your team surrounding you as you get various pats on your head and shoulders. When the team starts to leave to their positions on the field, you decide to do one last thing in front of the furious Barcelona fans. 

You blow a kiss to the crowd, laughing at their overreactions to the simple gesture.

In the 89th minute, you find yourself surrounded by shorter women, all trying to keep you from rising up above them and heading the ball from the corner into the goal. Like the slippery eel you are, you try to run circles around them, trying to confuse them with your position.

When you finally settle between two of their defenders you decide to be a little cheeky, one of your favorite pastime activities.   

“So are all Barca defenders this short? Or have I just struck gold today?” You tease Mapi, who’s elbow meets your ribs harshly, almost making you double over in pain. There wasn’t much muscle protecting your dear ribs yet, or the rest of your body to be fair, so impact was felt to the full extent.

“Are you not meant to be doing your fifth grade homework?” She asks in the same tone as you had before, looking back at you with that oversure expression on her face. You just know that you have to wipe it off her face, with a goal preferably.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing bingo with the other elders? Or can you just not reach the table?” Before Mapi can retort, the ball is played into the box and with athleticism that only Zlatan could rival, you leap up into the air, twisting around so that your heel meets the ball with your back to the goal, a perfect scorpion kick.  Well as perfect as it could be with you ending up on the ground in the goal.

Dying minute bangers, another specialty of yours.

Blowing another kiss, this time towards the Spanish defender standing dumbfounded in front of you, you get up off the floor, running past her to get back to your own half, not without yelling a quick “that one was for you” to the world class defender. All in good fun of course, you wouldn’t do it maliciously, especially not seeing as they were still leading.

The final whistle is blown only moments later, leaving you to collapse onto the pitch in pure exhaustion from the game. Considering the fact that you’d already played a full 90 against a U23 team earlier that week, you were pretty tired.

Wondering silently if you could just take a nap in the middle of the field, you’re interrupted in your daydreaming by a hand in front of your face, a hand leading up to a player in blaugrana. 

“You had a good game kid, next time though, could you not score a hattrick off the bench?” Mapi helps you up and off the ground, shaking your hand properly as you just stand there, a silly smile on your face.

“I can score a double hat trick with a start if that would make you feel any better?” The older defender ruffles your hair quickly at the teasing before she lets you go, sending you on your merry way to wherever it is you went after games.

Trudging across the pitch, you almost fall into your girlfriend’s arms as soon as you get close enough, pretty much falling asleep in the crook of her neck. She giggles sweetly and the sound paints a smile on your face, her whispered complaints of how sweaty you were drowned out by your playful yawns. 

Pulling away from her neck, your eyes meet and your cheeks turn even more red than before, the physical exertion from the match clearly catching up to you. But no kiss was exchanged, you two wanted to keep your blooming relationship to yourselves and away from the public eye, leading to the act of just being best friends continuing out in the open.

Your girlfriend’s eyes shift from your own to something behind you, eyes widening exponentially at what she found.

“What’s up?” You ask Julia, who just continues to stare at something over your shoulder.

“Enemy, 6 o’clock.” Is all she says in response, rolling her eyes when you just look at her confused, placing her hands on either side of your head to turn it back to where she was looking. A smiling Alexia Putellas making her way over to where you’re standing next to your girlfriend is the last thing you were expecting, but that’s exactly what was happening.

“What the fu-” You start before one of the hands placed on the sides of your head lands over your mouth, Julia clearly not wanting you to swear in front of a legend. Licking her palm, Julia snatches her hand back as quickly as she had put it there, wiping her hand on the front of her shirt.

Looking back at her with a smirk, Julia rolls her eyes again before she slaps the back of your head, Alexia having stopped right in front of you, an unreadable expression on her face.

“You played really good today Y/n, impressive for your age, don’t be surprised if you hear from your agent within the coming days.” She smiles before turning on her heel, almost whiplashing you with the quick statement. 

Looking back at the brunette, she meets your gaze with a knowing look in her eyes and a smile stretched across her lips.

“Accept it.” Julia tells you silently, the fond look never disappearing off her face.

“What?” You ask the Real Madrid youth player, not understanding what she meant by that. There wasn’t a world wherein Julia Romero would tell you to join Barcelona.

“If you get a contract offer from them, you have to accept it.” She clarifies, looking you in the eyes deeply, like she was telling you that she was being fully truthful, which she was either way.

“Why?”

“It’s what’s best for your career, I won’t let a little rivalry destroy us. Plus it'll make El Clasico 10 times more fun when I’ll absolutely crush you.” She winks at the end, making you blush once again.

“Oh in your dreams, pretty girl.” Starting to walk back to your locker room, you keep up the conversation with your girl, walking backwards to see her.

“You know you are.” Stumbling over your feet, you fall back onto your butt at the words, the already visible blush on your face growing darker, both at the words but also what you had done.

It’s just like you to score a hattrick against the best team in the world then trip over your own feet walking backwards.

—---------------------------

Just like that, a few days later Barcelona offered you a contract and the rest was history. You moved out of the small house in Sevilla to Barcelona, where you moved into the home of the two overbearing English women. A key part in the 22/23 Champions League winning squad, you scored a goal in the final of the competition, the winning goal that got you the shiny gold medal hanging over your bed, which then led to you being called up to the senior national team and winning a World Cup gold, but that’s a story for another day.

You continued to see Julia on the weekends neither of you had anything to do, getting on a train to Madrid under the guise of having a sleepover with Vicky, meeting up with your girl, spending the night and then going back to Barcelona just in time for Lucy to pick you up from Vicky’s house. Sure it cost you a good 100 euros every time, with the train tickets and the so-called ‘Vicky bribe’, but it was so worth it.

You got a weekend with your girlfriend and Vicky got 20 euros. A win-win.

During the two years you’d lived with the English women, they hadn’t suspected anything, not that you had a girlfriend nor that you went and visited her as often as you possibly could.

Well they didn’t suspect anything until the Clasico, where they had seen you both laughing and smiling all secretly to each other, like something was going on between you and the Real Madrid player.

Coincidentally, that day was also the day when your girlfriend first met your unofficial parents. 

—-------------------------

The first El Clásico you had played against your girl had ended in a 4-1 win to Barcelona, with you scoring a brace and Julia scoring Madrid’s sole goal. She had been moved up to the first team at the start of the 23/24 season and despite her technically being your enemy, you were still over the moon for her.

As soon as the final whistle had been blown, you dropped to the floor like you always did, ready to take an impromptu nap right there and then.

A recognisable giggle sounds from above you, opening one eye to look up at the white clad midfielder standing in front of you with a hand out, you don’t waste a second before taking the hand in your own, pulling the girl down onto the ground instead of pulling yourself up.

“Lia, my sweetheart, what are you doing down on the ground?” You ask her playfully as she slaps your shoulder, sitting up and looking down at you with that captivating smile on her face, rolling her eyes at you like you loved.

“You’re an idiot, you know that.” Nodding along with her words, you mirror her, sitting up and leaning your weight back onto your hands, smiling mischievously her way.

“Yeah, you’ve told me like a gazillion times.” Wifting your arms around as you speak, you don’t notice Lucy and Keira making their way over to you and your ‘friend’.

“Told you what?” Lucy interrupts, looking between you and Julia rapidly, trying to understand the relationship there, friends or something more. 

“Nothing special Lucifer, did you want anything or did you just come to interrupt?” Stifling a laugh at Lucy's expression, you look at your girlfriend, thinking you’d see a smile stretched over her pillowy lips, instead finding what you assume to be a look of dread on her face.

Rolling your eyes good naturedly, you stand up from your sitting position and dust yourself off before offering a courteous hand to your secret girlfriend, who takes it and stands up, half hiding behind you.

“Right, Robert, Keira, this is my childhood friend Julia, who unfortunately plays for Real Madrid which means she’ll never win anything ever.” You tease the brunette, like you always did, it was just too easy. Still, you were met with a slap to the back of your head, like usual, before she sticks her hand out to properly introduce herself to your pseudo moms. 

“Julia Romero, nice to meet you both.” The way you’re looking at her definitely exposes you more than it should, but you don’t mind it, the two women in front of you knew nothing about your love life as it was.

“Childhood friends you say? Nothing else…?” Lucy really wasn’t smooth, or subtle for that matter as she tried asking you the question they were both thinking.

“Childhood friends, we’re actually best friends but I didn’t think that was a worthwhile distinction.” You respond sassily, Lucy ruffling your hair before you could even try to stop her, and whilst it was annoying for you, it did put a smile on Julia’s face and that was all that mattered.

“Alright, alright, just wrap it up soon, the bus leaves in 15.” The two leave after that, and suddenly you’re just standing with your girlfriend, all alone. 

“Well, I should get going, my teammates are probably wondering where I am.” Her voice trails off as she points over her shoulder and you smile, raising your eyebrows softly.

“I’ll see you in a couple weeks.” 

As you both make your way back to your respective locker rooms, you’re both oblivious to the bets being placed on what your relationship actually is.

—------------------------------

Champions League final 2024, one of the biggest games of your career, big games that keep piling up as you play for Barcelona. A final, it was a final and Jona had insisted on starting you.

Big breath in, big breath out. It’s fine. You can do this.

Walking out onto the pitch, your eyes immediately search for her, the twinkling green that you love so so much. She waves at you all excited in the old and tattered spain jersey she had insisted on wearing. Breath in, breath out. It’s time.

The first 20 minutes or so are calm, filled with counter attacks and defending against another one of the best teams in the world, it’s just Lyon.

Weaving through defender after defender, not unlike how you had against your current team nearly two years before, your brain is on autopilot, just focusing on getting the ball in the goal no matter what. And that you do, curling the ball around the defenders, watching as it ends up in the top corner of the goal.

Champions League final, yeah right.

Pointing to the brunette in the stands, everyone in the arena understands that the goal was dedicated to her, no one seeing the wink you send her though before you return to restart the game.

The rest is pretty simple, Aitana scoring just before half time and then Alexia scoring only minutes after coming on as a substitute. It all goes so fast, because suddenly the final whistle goes and you’ve won another Champions League.

You won the Champions League. 

You don’t realize it until after you’ve all gotten your medals and done the trophy lift. No, it isn’t until there’s a sprinting Julia Romero heading your way that you actually register it, you won. 

There’s a split second between when you catch her and when you make the decision to kiss her that you can’t help but think about all that has happened since you first got together. Two Champions League finals won, a World Cup victory, a contract from Barcelona, her getting into the senior squad at Real Madrid, her winning various tournaments with the youth teams, her joining you in the senior national team. So much had happened in so little time, and yet she was the best thing of all.

And so, you kiss her. For the first time, you actually kiss her in public, in front of friends and family, but also the millions of people watching from behind their screens. Her legs wrap tightly around your waist, arms tangling around your neck, fingers running through your hair. Your hands settle under her thighs, supporting her body so that she wouldn’t be able to just fall off.

The kiss is just magical, PG enough so that you don’t get yelled at but still some tongue action going on. Her lips are as soft as the day you first kissed her, just as sweet but now there’s a hint of salt, wet tears rolling down her cheeks as she kisses you.

Pulling away, your hands roam up until they settle against the sides of her face, thumbs brushing away the tears that just seem to keep on falling. Her forehead leans against yours, nose nudging yours as she asks for another kiss.

Releasing her legs from their grip around your waist, Julia stands in front of you, her arms threading around your neck again as she brings you down for yet another kiss, this one not as passionate, more like a congratulations kiss. Pulling back, she pecks your lips twice before fully letting you go.

“Why are you crying baby?” Tears were still rolling down her face, no matter how much you tried to wipe them, they kept on coming. 

“I’m just so proud of you, look at how far you’ve come. You won the Champions League.” Smiling at her adorable reasoning, you lean in to kiss her once more, well that is until you’re interrupted, yet again by a certain someone.

“Childhood friends huh? Nothing more? I knew you were together, I could see it.” Turning towards Lucy, you roll your eyes at the statement, clearly she did know a little, but obviously not everything.

“So you know that I actually didn’t sleep over at Vicky’s all those times then? That I was really in Madrid all those times?” You tease, which was probably a bad idea, considering the fact that you definitely were not allowed to go to Madrid over the weekends. “Amor, I’ll see you in a little.” You rush out before you start running, Lucy wasting no time and chasing after you.

A calmer looking Keira comes up to Julia, who’s standing there dumbfounded, and offers her the hand that’s not clutching onto the trophy.

“Welcome to our little family, they do that sometimes, same level of maturity, them two.” Julia shakes her head fondly, looking at the terrified expression you’re wearing as you get chased around the pitch. “They’ll calm down soon, then we can take some pictures together, all of us. You’ll come home with us later, right?” 

And even though Julia knew she’d be teased for the rest of her life, she still stood and posed for photos with you and the CL trophy her rivals had won. 

Photos that later got posted to your instagram with the caption;

My trophy and my wife, nothing better in life.