#but i found this expression especially funny

[cryptid-killjoy]

Delta loved when Frank expressed himself in ways like this, drawing in her blood. She didn't always realize it if it was on her back. Sometimes she'd see it later. Extra surprise gifts for later. How could she not love this man? So psycho for her and so damn cute. It was a winning combo.

After recomposing and letting Frank fix her shirt and wings she was too amused. Frank looked so handsome to her tonight. His grin over getting one over on Arthur even after death felt fitting somehow. She couldn't decide if it was a trick or a treat. It was probably both because it was great. She wasn't mad. For a moment she thought she should be, but she just wasn't. Maybe she liked showing off Frank won again just for old time sake. Maybe she liked when Frank teased Arthur for whatever reason. Maybe she just didn't give a fuck because she had too much real heavy shit in her mind to care about such a silly thing. Or maybe she just found it really damn funny Lil John was the one wearing her number one fan gear when Arthur seemed to be her little stalker.

Either way, she'd reply, "Yes, let's. Our guests are waiting."

Arthur would panic as expected by the couple who were both no doubt inwardly sniggering inside their heads as they walked closer to him. Every step was a doomsday closing in. Did Arthur know Frank had mind powers of some type? Sure. Did he know if it worked on ghosts? He was going to assume it did unstill he knew it otherwise. He tried so hard to clear his mind while he was trying to get his boner to settle and act natural all at once. The stairwell was too long to go rushing down for his prosthetic leg in time to look any sort of normal. But he couldn't think it through. He started to hop down steps in his haste and soon came to the realization as he heard the footsteps catching up behind him.

The more he tried to clear his head the more his thoughts raced the opposite effect happened. His head was filled with more thoughts than before. Everything he told himself not to think about came to the surface. He finally turned around and tried to stand in place on the stair and leaned like he was chilling there.

"Oh, hey guys! Fancy meeting you here of all places."

Delta stopped her feet. She watched as Arthur couldn't figure out where to comfortably fix his eyes upon either one of them. His nerves were on display. That made her grin all the more. The glace at Frank's pants and intenseness after on deliberately not looking there again, at least trying not to. He was having a hard time looking Delta in the eyes. So, of course she kept looking directly in his.

"Uh huh. Yeah, so weird finding us in our own home where we live."

She was cutting him any slack.

"Uhhhhhhhhh, right." He kept trying to keep his waistline turned slightly to the wall. He was hanging on a guard rail. "I was looking for you guys."

"So strange to find us in our own home where we live when you were looking for us."

"Heh. Yeah."

She kept right on his eyes making him all the more uncomfortable.

"Get on with it Arthur. Tell us what you were looking for us for." Still not once mentioning him standing around in the middle of a lengthy stairwell on one leg or questioning it.

"Oh uh right. Well, I'm only here for a night. I just really wanted to see you both. I've been waiting for this night." He started talking faster. "Remember when I used to get into comas, or anesthesia, or whatever and I'd manage to find you guys in death? Now I'm on the other side. It's trickier to find ways. Especially at your castle. Can't get in here."

"That's on purpose."

"Right." He stared for a second with a trying to read Delta wondering if he unwelcome or not and she gave no sign of him not counting when it came to her ghost protections. So the silence eventually was cut off by his own talking. He had to keep going.

"Well uh anyway. I keep trying to warn you and couldn't figure out how till today. I finally got in."

Delta rolled her fingers in a hurry this up motion.

"Right. Right. What I'm trying to say is there's disturbance in force."

Delta's brow went up.

"I mean there's people in Feral. Silas and the Evil Queen. She's in the swamps."

Delta's eyes narrowed. "Is that all? Just two?"

"You're mostly left with stray semi-immortal types in the depths like the pixies. But yeah, the queen's out at Skull Rock where your mother had her meetings. She was living out there with Silas. I thought you'd want to know about them."

She thought to herself, "We already have Silas." The Queen slipped under their nose.

Things Delta was realizing as he spoke. Arthur and possibly other Merry Men were still watching over Feral even after death. It was only now she was even realizing they were going by their Sherwood names in death when they were out there on the dance floor. She had to admit she hadn't thought a whole lot about the Merry Men since they left. Out of sight out mind maybe? But now that they were here it was giving her something to think about. Too much for now. She was trying to have a party. Maybe Arthur proved to be useful in the end too, not just for entertainment.

She stared at him after he gave the information, he'd been dying to give them all night. He had no idea they already had Silas locked up. Knowing the queen was out there was still helpful. She could tell he was looking for a thanks or a good job. Instead she changed the subject.

"Could have sworn I saw you earlier in the ball room with two legs."

"Me? Nah. What's a ghost need a leg for? Nah. Nah. Not me. Prosthetic ghost legs. Ha ha." He tried to play it off. His voice got higher pitched as the sentence went on.

He wasn't thinking this through. His leg was at the bottom of the winding stair. What then?

Delta looked up at Frank, "Oh, my bad. I must have miss seen."

Frank didn’t need to scour that pretty little brain to know how good Delta was feeling, her mumbles, her inability to say his name, her quivering mess of a body was loud enough. It was impossible not to feel cocky - heh heh - with his girl reacting like this. She might not have had anything else to compare it with but damn, he knew that she was enjoying this, same as he was.

His acid girl. She was melting him into her, even after they were finished, he was all over her, hands and fingers stroking the back, the wings, her upper thighs, feeling his sterile seed slipping out and pushing it back in so that they were one before they finally started to get dressed once more.

He spread the blood on her wings, before - in an almost overly cute motion - he drew a small heart on her skin with her own blood. “Art on art,” He admired his own little piece on her. She had made so many marks on him, so permanent - but he wouldn’t want to affect her perfect skin. Each scar, each freckle, each cut from the wings escaping - were exactly as it should be.

A smirk was across his face, his large eyes lingering on hers as he ‘lurched’ over her, forked tongue escaping his lips to lick at them as she bit on him so deliciously. “We both did,” He agreed. There was tension that he had needed to work off, as there always was when there was a lot of people in their space. He wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until things were as they were supposed to be. But this was a good amount of relief.

He ripped at her clothing carefully for her. Not with brute strength but with calculated rips, making it look as if it was intentional, and then the wings had all the space that they needed to come out, to spread the way that they should be. These beautiful goddamn wings, that he stroked and admired now, even while knowing there was an audience. A world of their own, acting like no one could see, no one could interrupt.

He’d been too in the zone to really tune into Arthur’s thoughts during his fuck session. He was inside of the most perfect girl alive, what kind of fool would he be if he spent that time figuring out what some bald-headed little voyeur was thinking? But now that the post-sexual haze was dissipating, he could tune on in.

And it was hilarious.

‘Not only dreaming. He’s one bit of friction away from cumming his pants,’ Frank replied to Delta, a smirk on his face as he looked in that direction as well. He could feel through Arthur that he hadn’t actually seen anything inappropriate on Delta, but oh, he caught that his dick had been sighted. Good. That just made it all the more funny.

He ran his fingers through Delta’s curls, adjusting them so they were less messy, and then bent low to kiss the top of her head. And then loud enough to let Arthur hear - “Shall we return to our guests?”

In the hopes that he would scramble around and try to get himself together. Shuffle down the stairs on his ass to try to get his other fake leg or something. There was some joy in the aardvark’s misery. But he couldn’t help letting out a chuckle, an outward expression of how much he was enjoying making the few hours that Arthur was here into something so … diabolical horny.

[stargazostli]

small Joel i drew today

SEASON TEN TOMORROW ALSO ACK-

[feminism839]

The idea of radical feminism being labeled as "transphobic" for questioning certain practices around gender underscores the tension between different feminist movements. Issues like women's sports, lesbian spaces, and child sterilization are contentious within these debates. Often, it is men who enforce these ideologies within liberal feminist spaces, policing women's thoughts and actions. This dynamic reflects historical patterns of men controlling the discourse around women's rights and spaces. Men—who might otherwise consider themselves supportive or open-minded—will often resort to condescending remarks like "who hurt you?" or "you re just bitter." This response seems designed not to understand but to discredit. But what s really happening here? Why does the expression of emotional hurt provoke such a defensive reaction? Sex and gender debates often highlight the hypocrisy of gender activists. While they argue that sex and gender are distinct, they conflate the two when it benefits their agenda, such as in access to sex-segregated spaces like bathrooms and sports. This inconsistency undermines the legitimacy of their arguments and sidelines the concerns of women who seek to protect sex-segregated spaces for their safety and privacy. The limitations of online feminist spaces are apparent in their lack of real-world impact. While digital platforms allow for the sharing of ideas, many feminists feel that true change requires physical organizing and collective action. Without this shift, feminist movements risk remaining performative rather than achieving meaningful societal transformation. It's a system designed to entrap and control women. Where I live - you can get legally married in about 30 minutes. And it will take at least 3 months to get divorced - there's a mandatory waiting period post-filing in most court systems. Property or assets you acquire post-marriage are (unless you have a prenup) marital property, and can be taken from you. Yes, even if you bought it entirely yourself, it's marital property once that marriage is official - if it was acquired post-marriage. Youve got to thwomp like you mean it, especially when banana is involved.Why does everything have to be so snubilius with you? PRA…That's it. Why is the Toasty Realm always full of grubbley memmbers? perfect cell: Ive never heard of a male that could liminary like that in Hotel Mario. I didnt prip for this peanut buttery gyns, it found me in the funny carnival. Well, thats just silly. I cant tumble my way out of this. In the end, Garlic was just another tubular male. In the end, Garlic was just another tubular male. In the end, Garlic was just another tubular male.

[actiniumwrites]

if you're still doing requests: maybe one of the genshin guys finding out you use their card in tcg? scenario or headcanons is fine, and i have no preference for who you want to write! (i will say i'm fixated in the fontanians rn though)

the perfect pair

synopsis: their reaction to finding out you use their card in tcg

characters: tighnari, cyno, neuvillette, lyney, and wriothesely x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: nothing besides fluff and cyno being an actual maniac for tcg (he’s probably a little ooc but i think it’s funny)

notes: i’m ngl i totally forgot about tcg 😭 i played it SO much when it came out and then barely touched it unless it was for the primos. i gotta finish those achievements still 💀 also i know not every one of these characters has a tcg card but we can just pretend :) thank you for the request!

part two

Tighnari:

Because he doesn’t play tcg very often — at least not as much as Cyno does — he doesn’t find out right away

When he does, it happens at a casual dinner between you, him, and all your friends after Collei asks to play so she can try out some of her new cards

Cyno enthusiastically agrees and you all set up after you finish eating which is when Alhaitham, whose eyes never miss anything, spots a suspiciously similarly looking guy on one of your three player cards

“You seriously have your boyfriend as one of your cards?” he’ll ask with a disbelieving smile, as if he can’t comprehend why you’d have it

You smile and lift it up, proudly nodding as you list off the card’s strengths and the nice backing it came with. You don’t fail the mention the bonus that it comes with your boyfriend’s face on it

Tighnari feels his cheeks warm in slight embarrassment as he turns away in his chair. Even so, he can’t help but find it really cute that you have his card

He even tells his friends to shut up and that they’re just jealous they don’t have his card and that they wish their significant others had them as cards

It actually shuts some of them up, shockingly

Meanwhile, Cyno is in utter disbelief that such a card exists and will try to buy it off of you so he can complete his collection (you don’t let him have it though)

Cyno:

Ah the king of tcg himself

He has the most dramatic reaction for sure. Not even in the sense that he’s embarrassed, or teasing, or whatnot. He’s just straight up shocked

Slams his hands down on the table and his jaw drops as he stands up. You giggle on the other side of the table at his reaction, watching him desperately try to find words

“Where did you even get that?!”

You swear you only see him this expressive when it comes to tcg

“I don’t know, I just found it at a local store when I was passing by,” you shrug carelessly, as if you aren’t going to completely destroy him with his own card in about five minutes

After he gets over the initial awe of seeing himself in his favorite game in the entire world, he’s actually very internally excited, although you don’t get to see that side

He thinks it’s cool that you like using his card and is honored that you’d even choose it in the first place, especially with only three slots (he’s also just happy he’s a main card and not a buff lmao)

And when you do destroy him, he slides you a pen and paper and politely demands you give him the name of the seller so he can track them down tomorrow

Neuvillette:

He doesn’t even play the game so initially, he’s extremely confused why you have a playing card with his face on it

“Fascinating. I did not know they made such games. Is my card good for playing?” He’s genuinely intrigued by it and you find it rather endearing

Because he doesn’t understand it though, he doesn’t necessarily feel any certain way about it. He’s too caught up in the game to realize what it means for you to be using his card

“Yeah, it’s pretty powerful, but it’s representative of real life so that’s expected given your position.”

At that, he feels very flattered. His cheeks will warm a bit, casting a light blush over his features when you speak so proudly of him

He’ll even ask if you have a card of your own hoping to take a bit of the attention off him when he begins to feel more excited about it

You shake your head no and explain that it’s unlikely given people don’t know enough about you to make a full card of you or to sell it

Will later get one made for you without you knowing, only one singular copy worth a priceless amount just so you could have one to match him too <3

Lyney:

Smug little shit

You’re playing with him and his siblings after he invited you over for a date. Lynette and Freminet were bored so you both offered to play a game, to which tcg was suggested by Freminet

You’d played only a few times with them before, which is why you didn’t realize what was such a big deal when you pulled out a card with your boyfriend on it, entirely forgetting it was new and you hadn’t used it with them yet

“Is that…is that Lyney?” Lynette asks, stifling a laugh as she inspects the card. Freminet leans a little closer too in order to get a better look.

And it indeed is, Lyney confirms for himself

“Woah no way, I didn’t know they made this,” he smiles at it, picking it up and spinning it in his hand before smirking at you, “I knew you couldn’t resist this handsome face, even on a playing card.”

You smack his arm faster than Lynette can and snatch it back out of his hand. Lyney pouts and slouches down into his seat as his siblings inquire as to where you got it

Lyney can’t stop staring at you as you tell them, his chest beating faster and faster as you embarrassedly ramble on about why you got it in the first place and how you thought it was cute like a little keepsake

Even though you’d been dating for some quite some time, you both managed to keep surprising one another and falling in love all over again, even if it was over silly things like tcg cards

Lynette sighs as she notices the lovestruck look in her brother’s eyes, “He’s doomed.”

Wriothesley:

He’s weirdly calm about the whole thing. Not like he’d be over dramatic or anything, but I don’t think he’d be as teasing or shocked by it like the others or like some may assume

Wriothesley thinks it’s really cool when he finds it in your collection one day after you left your card case in his office by accident, a few cards slid out with his face popping out on one tucked away in the middle

He’ll examine it before a gentle smile pulls at his lips at the thought of you using it to play against others

He’s almost proud, in a way

When you walk into his office a ten minutes later, realizing you had left your cards and a few other of your things on his desk, you stumble upon him looking at it

“Oh, uh you weren’t supposed to see that yet,” you say awkwardly as you pause in your step and fiddle with your hands, embarrassed he had found it. It was a somewhat new card and you actually wanted to show it to him later

But Wriothesley doesn’t care. Hell, if he had known there was a card out there with him on it, he would’ve bought it for you a long time ago

He’ll just kiss you. A nice, sweet, and to the point kiss as he slides the card back in your hand before pulling away and staring down at you, “You’re cute.”

[bubblesandpages]

The only figures from her life I can think of who do crack jokes are Mylo (who we pretty much exclusively see fail at them) and Ekko (where is comes off as a much more natural extension of his personality as a child, before morphing into a much more cutting form of criticism/defense as a young adult).

Now Mylo is someone who is locked in an almost silent game of one upment with Powder due to how similar they are, and how much he's unable to separate his own self image from the way he sees her. They're both physically weaker then their other two siblings, their skills tend to lie in the mental rather than the physical, the one form of physical activity we see them both engaged in is firearms—where Powder easily wipes the floor with Mylo—point being there's plenty for them to compete in.

Jinx's humor could be her almost continuing to compete with Mylo even after he's gone. But like his own underdeveloped humor, it largely comes of as strange, likely due to their shared lack of confidence, and possibly as a consequence of her trying to make her humor unique to her.

Ekko's a little different. He's actually funny.

But more than that he's charismatic—something that can't really be said for Mylo or Jinx (at least not conventionally). He's effortlessly good in whatever situation you drop him in, never clams up (outside of, like, literal trauma episodes i.e. Benzo's death, the shimmer attack once Jinx shows up) whether he's ripping off a rich Piltie like Jayce, face-to-face with Enforcers on a citywide manhunt, or fronting a resistance group, it's almost enviable how he glides through social interactions, and a lot of that effortlessness is expressed alongside his humor.

I think that effortlessness would be appealing to someone like Jinx, especially after she's decided that she can't remain as the same "weak" girl who thinks she's been abandoned by everyone who once cared for her. You often observe how people around you act, and achieve certain responses from those around them as you grow up—this could just be Jinx observing this behavior in Ekko and trying to emulate that ease using humor—missing the point where this isn't a fear response from him the way it is for Mylo and Jinx, or the source of his success in social situations—it's a result rather than the source of his ease.

Imitation is often an imprecise art, and coupled with it being a fear response from Jinx, you end up with some imprecise results. If I was feeling generous, I might be willing to cede that Jinx's more "appropriate" and arguably successful attempts at humor in season 2 are a result of her finally being confident in who she is (thank you category 5 Family Trauma Event 305 subheading: Tea Party) and letting go of both competition and imitation for genuine humor that's a natural extension of her new found sense of self.

I find jinx's relationship with humor to be very fascinating. Jinx wasn't really a funny child. We never really saw her crack a joke, it just seemed like she wasn't that kind of kid who could find humor in any situation and found it easy to hold around. But as she gets older we see that she frequently uses humor in her day to day life, specifically to help ease her out of uncomfortable situations. Jinx's sense of humor for the most part is quite inappropriate, not in an obscene way but in a way where the things she says just aren't suitable and create a lot of tension. Not only does she use humor to navigate these situations, but she also will forcibly laugh to relieve stress, as though it's some kind of coping mechanism she's developed. She laughs nervously when Silco expressed his disappointment in her, she laughed nervously when she reunited with Vi and saw Caitlyn, she laughed nervously when she showed the gem stone to silco, she laughed nervously when she was stapling her leg, etc. Jinx does use more humor in season two but to me it's significantly reigned in and more appropriate for the most part.

One of the earliest jokes we get from her is "Sisters, right? Can't live with them, can't stuff them back in the old baby maker." This is a really uneasy joke and Jinx reacts accordingly, she instantly laughs this off while cringing. Another instance where she makes an insensitive joke would be at the commune "ask for a healer, get a metal fortune cookie...looks like you got a couple (conditions). " She uses humor to make threats, "I feel like we got off on the wrong arm. How about we try to other?" "Don't move, silly. I might hurt you." "I paid your girlfriend a visit this morning. I made her a snack."

To me this is fascinating because you would think her humor would come from her youth, a mostly carefree period of her life where she was surrounded by peers, not her isolated adolescence. Like, where is this humourous influence coming from? Sevika and Silco, the two people jinx was closest to at the point aren't funny people. They do have their theatrical moments but humor isn't their strong suit. Where did this change of her's come from?

[dreamescapeswriting]

Too Far ~ LMH

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Minho x reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

Minho was always the same with you—sharp words, quick jabs, endless teasing, it was just how your relationship had been for as long as you could remember. His playful insults had always been something you could brush off, masking your feelings behind a smile. After all, you were in love with him, and a small part of you liked the attention that would come from him, even if it came in the form of teasing.

But recently, things have changed...a lot. Life was heavier, the weight on your shoulders making it harder to pretend everything was fine and yet you hadn't voiced it to him. You thought maybe he'd sense that you weren't in the mood lately and he would stop but he did.

Minho’s teasing didn’t sting before, but now… now it felt like someone was squeezing a lemon on a wound that was already raw.

Today had been the final straw. You'd finally snapped and had enough of everything.

You sat with the group, the usual chatter filling the room. Minho, as always, was sitting across from you, smirking like he always did when he was about to say something. And he did, some offhanded comment about how you always seemed to be distracted lately, how you weren’t even able to keep up with the conversation anymore.

"Maybe you’re just not smart enough to follow along?" he joked, the words light in his tone but heavy in their impact. It hit deeper than it should have, but being teased for your brain was always something that you'd gotten in school and it made you feel...small. Useless and insignificant to him. That coupled with the stress from everything else, the sleepless nights, the anxiety you hadn’t shared with anyone—not even him—it all bubbled up inside you, and for the first time, you couldn’t laugh it off.

"Maybe you should just stop talking," you snapped, your voice much sharper than you intended. The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at you in surprise. Chan stared at you in shock, he'd always been there telling you to stand your ground against Minho but you'd never do it...until now. Minho blinked, taken aback, scoffing softly as he tried to play everything off as a casual joke.

"Woah, I was just kidding."

"Yeah, well, it’s not funny anymore," you muttered, standing up quickly. You shuffled your stuff around until you gathered it all up, you couldn’t stay there, not with everyone’s eyes on you and Minho’s confused expression making it worse. Without another word, you left the room, your heart pounding as you made your way outside.

You didn’t hear Minho calling your name as you left.

"What the fuck was that about?!" Minho snapped at the others who all looked at him with sheepish looks. It was clear to anyone with a working set of eyes that you weren't in the mood for his games.

"She's had enough, Minho. God, last week I found her crying in her apartment." Felix grumbled and the comment hit him harder than he thought it would have. The idea of you crying because of something he said made his stomach twist and turn.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Hyung...In all due respect, I thought you hated her," Felix mutters a little and it was then that Minho realised just how far he had taken things. That if his own friends couldn't tell where the lines blurred then there was no chance in hell you would have been able to either and he'd fucked up...big time.

"I'll call her...S-She'll answer. She always does." He mutters, dragging his phone out of his pocket and calling you. That was one thing he could always rely on, you always picked up the phone no matter the time, no matter what day you answered him.

Except, this time.

You didn't.

It had been three days since the incident, and you’d been avoiding everyone—especially him. He’d tried to call, text, and even show up at your place, but you didn’t want to talk. You'd sent back all of the presents he'd sent to you and when the florist stated they couldn't take the flowers you donated them to a hosptial and the nursing home down the street.

You couldn't deal with anyone or anything right now. Especially not to him, no one who spoke to him because you knew that they would try and talk to you about it and relax you. Right now, you needed space and time to sort through everything without the added weight of Minho’s teasing hanging over you.

But it didn’t stop the ache in your chest every single time you thought about him. The desperate urge to run back there and forgive him like you always did in the past but this time you wanted to stand your ground. You wanted him to realise that the weight of his words had an effect on you.

But despite everything, you missed him. His stupid jokes, the way he made everyone laugh, the way he made you feel noticed, even if it was in the most frustrating ways. The way he'd always see you even when you thought you were invisible to everyone else around you. But you couldn’t forget the hurt he'd put you through. While he might have made you feel visible he was blind to everything else, he didn’t realize you were struggling and he never saw beyond his teasing to see what you were going through.

Meanwhile, back at the dorms, Minho was losing it. He wasn’t used to this—used to you being upset with him. You were always there, always able to take his jokes, always smiling despite his teasing. But this time… this time he’d messed up. And he had no idea how to fix it. Everything he tried to do failed. The bears were returned to the store, the florist told him you'd donated the flowers and the takeout he sent to you was always given to the homeless. Nothing was working.

The guilt gnawed at him, he found himself unable to sleep or eat. The more time passed, the more he realized how blind to what he was doing to you. He missed you, more than he cared to admit, and with that realization came another...something he hadn’t fully accepted before.

"You're dumb," Felix told him as they sat across from each other in the living room. Minho had just finished confessing all of the conflicting feelings he was feeling,

"How am I dumb?!" he snapped angrily,

"You're in love with her, you dumb bitch." Felix laughed a little and Minho sat there. His mouth open as he tried to deny it but the more he thought about it...the more he realised Felix was right.

He cared about you. More than just as a friend. More than just someone he could joke around with. He was in love with you...head over heels in love and now, he might have lost you because of his own stupidity.

That same night Minho found you at the park, sitting in the same spot you always went to when you needed to clear your head. It was the same park he would go to with you sometimes, you'd taken him one night when he needed to clear his head and he'd followed you blindly.

You didn’t see him at first, too lost in your thoughts about him, but when you did, you immediately stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait, please," Minho’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He'd been tempted to reach his hand out and touch you but he stopped himself, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You turned to look at him, there was something different in his tone—something softer, almost desperate.

You hesitated but sat back down on the bench, your eyes on your hands as he slowly approached, stopping a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets like they always were when he was nervous.

"I messed up," he started, his voice quiet. You scoffed a little,

"Fucked up,"

"Yn," He chuckled softly, he hadn't realised just how much he'd missed your voice, even if it was just scolding him for something.

"I know I did. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know you were going through something." You looked away, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively.

"It’s not just about that, Minho. You always tease me, always make me feel… small. And I never said anything because I didn’t want to make it awkward. But I can’t take it anymore. Not right now." The rawness in your voice hit him hard, and his hands twitched at his sides, he wanted to reach out and comfort you but he forced himself to stay still. He’d never realized the extent of his teasing, how much it might have hurt you. He always thought it was just fun, that you were okay with it because you never said anything.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice cracking. He knew that there was no apology in the world that he could give that would have made all of this better but he wasn't going to stop until you forgave him.

"I should’ve seen it. I should’ve been paying more attention, instead of just thinking I could joke around all the time. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you." You stayed silent, your eyes fixed on the ground. Minho took a step closer, his heart pounding, there was no way he could lose, not like this. Not when he finally understood how much you meant to him.

"I miss you," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He'd been trying to think of what he was going to say to you but the words were lost on him, nothing felt as though it would be good enough to make up for what he'd done.

"I miss being around you, even if all I ever did was make dumb jokes. And… I’ve realized something else." You glanced up at him, and he took a deep breath.

"I’m in love with you...I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I know that’s what this is. And I’m sorry it took me hurting you to figure that out." Your breath hitched, eyes widening in surprise. You'd always dreamt of hearing this from him but this, of all the things you expected him to say,  wasn’t one of them.

"I’ll do anything to make it right," Minho continued, his voice soft and sincere. "I don’t want to lose you. Not like this...Please,"

For a long moment, you just stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you wanted to push him away, to hold onto the hurt and make him pay for hurting you. But the other part of you—the part that still loved him—could see how much he was trying. How much he meant what he was saying.

"I don’t know, Minho. I need time… to figure things out." He nodded, stepping back, respecting the boundaries that you were putting in place for him,

"I get it. Take all the time you need. Just… don’t shut me out forever, okay?" You gave him a small nod, and for the first time in days, a bit of the tension between you eased. It wasn’t fixed yet, but it was a good enough start for him.

After the first few weeks of your time in the park with him, you kept your distance, and Minho respected that, he didn't push you into anything you didn't want to do. There was no pressure, no sudden visits, just the space you asked for. But even though he gave you the time to think, Minho didn’t stop trying.

Day after day, there would be small signs that he hadn’t forgotten and was doing his best to grovel for you.

One day there was a bouquet of your favorite flowers at your doorstep. There was no note, but you knew it was from him, of course it was. It wasn’t grand like the last time. It was a simple bouquet and, just simple daisies, the ones you always loved but rarely treated yourself to.

The next day, there was a text from Minho.

I hope the flowers didn’t freak you out. Just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. I'll wait however long it takes.

You didn’t respond, but something about the gesture warmed your heart, even if you weren’t ready to fully forgive him yet.

He started showing up at your favourite café, but always at a distance.  You’d walk in, spot him sitting at a table across the room, and feel the familiar flutter in your chest. He never approached you, only offering a nod or a small smile if you caught his eye. But he was there. Every day.

Eventually, you texted him.

You don’t have to do this, you know.

His reply was quick.

I know. But I want to. xx

The distance between you began to shrink day after day, week after week and you found yourself lingering at the café, sitting just a few tables away instead of on opposite sides. Neither of you said much, but the quiet presence was enough for now.

He didn’t push, and that’s what made it easier to start letting the walls down with him, slowly letting him into your life again. One day, you finally agreed to sit with him, both of you sipping your drinks in silence for a while before Minho spoke.

“I miss talking to you,” he admitted softly. “Even if it’s just a dumb joke here and there. I miss… us." You didn’t know how to respond, but something in your chest loosened. The pain was still there, but it was obvious to you that it was in fact, fading.

By the time a month had passed, things had started to feel… normal again between the two of you. Minho was still cautious, still careful with his words, but the tension that had once hung between you had started to dissipate. He’d stopped teasing altogether, focusing instead on real conversations—ones where he actually listened.

One afternoon, as you both sat on a bench in the park, you finally brought it up.

“I think I’m ready to forgive you,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. Minho froze, his gaze snapping to yours, the food he was holding nearly fell to the floor and his eyes widened a little.

“Are you sure?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"You gonna try and talk me out of it?" you teased but he quickly shook his head at you, stumbling and stuttering over his words before you touched his hand,

“I’m sure. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying. You didn’t have to, but you did.” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and he smiled at you.

“I don’t want to mess this up again. I’ll do better, I promise.” For the first time in weeks, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"I believe you.” You whispered and he squeezed your hand gently, his heart swelling with relief. He knew there was still work to be done, but for now, this was enough.

Months had passed since that quiet afternoon in the park, where you’d finally forgiven Minho. Things had slowly but surely returned to normal between you two—only, this time, it was better. The teasing that once felt like jabs had softened, and Minho had become more mindful, more attentive.

He still had his moments, of course. That mischievous gleam in his eye would never completely go away, and you wouldn’t want it to. But now, when he joked, it came from a place of warmth, of care. He no longer crossed lines, and when he did slip up, he was quick to apologize. It was a kind of growth you hadn’t expected, but one that made your bond even stronger.

Tonight was special. The two of you were walking through the streets, the cool breeze brushing against your skin as the city lights twinkled above. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a quiet evening after a long day, but there was a peace between you two now that hadn’t been there before.

As you walked side by side, Minho’s hand slipped into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that had become second nature. Neither of you said anything for a while, just enjoying the calm of the night and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, Minho broke the silence, his voice soft but teasing in that familiar way.

“So… you think I’ve been good enough to deserve a reward yet?” You shot him a playful look. A reward? What did he think this was? You couldn't help but giggle a little at him,

“A reward? For what?” He grinned, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“For not being a complete idiot all the time.” You laughed, the sound light and easy, and it felt good. So good. It had been far too long since you'd been like this with him and he was lapping up every single minute of it.

“You’re still an idiot sometimes.” you teased,

“Yeah, but now I’m your idiot,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, making you roll your eyes in amusement.

“I guess that’s true,” you admitted, squeezing his hand, kissing his cheek softly,

“Lucky me.” The banter was light between you both and it was relaxing. You never felt stupid around him anymore, he never made you feel small. As you continued walking, Minho’s gaze softened, his usual teasing expression fading into something more sincere.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’m really glad you forgave me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.” You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“Lucky for us, we'll never have to find out.”

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 14 (belated): Docm77. Today's style/medium is the original covers of the Rainbow Magic: Rainbow Fairies series by Daisy Meadows! This was inspired partially because of Doc's elytra and partially because I just thought it would be really funny. Having now finished the piece, I can confirm that it's really funny (to me, at least). References and details under the read more!

References: the Rainbow Magic books have a lot of different cover styles, especially the first few mini-series. I found what seemed to be the most original (and what I remembered seeing as a kid) and went with that. I referenced Fern the Green Fairy most closely, but checked all of the Rainbow Fairies for various details (hair highlights, facial expressions, etc.). The character art for the books has definitely gotten a little better and smoother over the years, but I wanted to capture that slightly awkward first-run look.

Random details: I had to do all the stripes and clouds and lettering and whatnot by hand, which is...why I didn't manage to post this on the right day. Now that I have the base, though, I could totally do a whole series of hermits in this style and I'm kind of ridiculously tempted to. The hair shading was SO hard to work with you don't understand. Going from dark hair to stark white highlight is the antithesis of my natural style and it still looks super weird to me but. I did my best. Also for the record it is not easy to translate a bright green adult man with a beard into the cutesy fairy girl style. I consciously had to make the way I was drawing hands worse at one point because they looked too complex and realistic for the style. I think drawing those crocs killed a part of my soul. Thank you and goodnight.

[stllmnstr]

sure thing – part two.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part two word count: 10.8k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I'M SORRY, a kiss or five

note: aaaand here's part two! thank you to everyone that left a comment/reblog on part one. this is the conclusion to the story. suffer with me while we daydream about blonde boxer jungwon and enjoyyyyy ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

PART TWO

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

It’s been a while since you felt anything but dread opening your work inbox. 

Monday morning, however, the first message that greets you is a reminder of a time when you did. When you used to keep your email tab open just in the hopes that a certain programmer would send you messages about a jammed printer for you to reread a dozen times. 

This time, though, excitement is the last thing you feel. It’s curiosity, more than anything, combined with an urgent need to know what the hell happened between your date and your coworker, that has you clicking on the message. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Printer Issue

Good morning, ___. 

I hope this message finds you well. I am currently trying to resolve an ongoing issue with the workroom printer and was hoping you would be able to provide some input at your earliest convenience. 

Thank you in advance, 

Jungwon

Part of you wants to archive the message without responding and let him simmer in your rejection. 

But spite has never held much weight against curiosity, and despite your better judgment, you soon find yourself walking towards the shared workroom. 

As expected, it’s already occupied. This time, however, Jungwon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. 

There’s a fresh bruise on his forehead, and this time, you don’t wonder where it’s from. It makes sense now. The bruises on his knuckles. The cut on his cheekbone. His seemingly intimate knowledge of head injuries that one fateful Monday afternoon he found you in this very room. 

They’re all the result of his hidden hobby, you suppose. 

As soon as you enter, some of the rigidity seeps out of his stance. Immediately, his arms fall to his sides, expression softening. “___,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe you actually came. 

Where he softens, however, you cage up. 

“You have one minute,” you tell him. 

“One minute?” He echoes, brow creasing in confusion. 

“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”

Jungwon sighs. “I’m sorry. Really, I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

You don’t say anything. An apology is appreciated, yes, but it’s not an explanation. 

With your silence, Jungwon continues, “I was just… caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see you there, and especially not with him.”

He pauses for a moment, biting at his lower lip. “Look, ___. I know it probably isn’t my place, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. Jay isn’t the person that you think he is, and–”

Your scoff cuts through his words, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s funny,” you interrupt. But humor is the last thing on your mind. “He said the exact same thing about you, you know. But it has to be bullshit. I mean, what could have possibly happened in middle school that two adults with jobs are still hung up on a decade later?”

Jungwon’s lips part in surprise. “He told you about middle school?”

“Why?” you prod. “Is there something to know?”

But now you’re at a stalemate, neither of you willing to disclose what exactly you know. 

After another beat, Jungwon sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do–”

“Could have fooled me.”

“But I just want you to be careful, okay? It’s… it’s important to me that you’re safe.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “It was a boxing gym. I don’t know why you’re acting like I was trying to push my way into the ring with you.”

“You don’t get it–”

“No.” You throw your hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it. But you’re not explaining it to me. You’re just being evasive and acting like I’m the one in the wrong. So unless you actually have something of substance to say, I’m done having this conversation.”

“____…” 

Already halfway to the exit, the sound of your name is lost on you. It’s bad enough that Jay has yet to reach out to you since last night. You absolutely do not need Jungwon bringing this issue into the office as well. 

As if on cue, your phone dings with an incoming message. 

Half expecting to see a virtual string of apologies from your coworker, you’re mildly surprised to see a different name instead. 

You were right about the apologies, though. 

Jay: I’m sorry about last night. You were right about deserving an explanation and I want to give you one. I think this is a conversation we should have in person. Are you free Friday night for dinner?

Friday night. Two nights from now. It’s soon enough that you won’t have to stew in resentment, but will give you both the time and space you need to think. 

It doesn’t take you long to consider, but you do wait another long minute before giving him the satisfaction of responding. 

You: I’ll plan on Friday.

…..

Friday morning comes with a vengeance. 

Already teeming with nervous energy at the prospect of your upcoming date with Jay and the conversation that is sure to ensue, you’re a bit of a mess by the time you arrive at work. 

Hair windswept, outfit mismatched, lipstick slightly smudged, you already know you’re in for a long day at the office. 

But when you arrive at your desk, you find something that softens the blow, just a bit. 

Grace, ever the instigator, is already learning over your cubicle by the time you notice it. 

“Whew,” she whistles appreciatively. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”

And she’s kind of right. The bouquet sitting front and center on your desk is massive. Overflowing with seasonal flowers that already emit a pleasant fragrance even from where you stand. The vase itself it’s gorgeous, too. 

Imbued with a myriad of colors, it reminds you a bit of a stained glass window on a sunny afternoon. 

Reaching for the small note tucked at the top, you open the envelope with slightly shaky fingers. 

 ___, it reads. 

I wish I had more to give you than an apology, but I’ve been told that flowers are a sure thing when it comes to brightening someone’s day. I hope these are able to do that for you. 

– J

Frowning, you read it once. Twice. 

Jay has already apologized for the incident from a couple of nights ago, and the timing of this second apology seems odd, given your plans for tonight. 

You’re left to stand in your own confusion for a moment longer before a text message vibrates your phone in your pocket. 

Reaching for it, the flowers suddenly start to make a lot more sense. 

Jay: I am so sorry, but I have to reschedule our plans for tonight. It completely slipped my mind, but my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. I promise to let you know as soon as I can when I’ll be available

Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry

Sighing, you put your phone back in your bag. You can’t blame him. Not really. His sister’s baby shower is undoubtedly an important event, even if the timing is rather unfortunate for you. 

Grace, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, is still gushing about your flowers. Turning to you, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are those for? Got a hot date this weekend?”

You sigh, recently canceled plans still dampening your mood. Deciding there’s no harm in telling Grace your woes, you say, “I wish. Jay just had to cancel on me for tonight.”

“No.” Grace gasps. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was personally affronted. “He better have had a good excuse.”

“He did,” you admit. Unlike someone you know. “Family stuff.”

“Ah,” Grace nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Have you rescheduled?”

Frowning at the message you have yet to answer, you shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Mm,” she hums, sensing your disappointment. “I’m sure something just came up at work, and he’ll get back to you soon.” 

“Yeah,” you nod hollowly. “I’m sure he will.”

You: I understand. Is there any chance we could meet Saturday evening or afternoon? It’s important to me that we talk about it soon.

It’s not as if you expect an immediate response. Like you, Jay is probably at work for the day. Busy and drowning in deadlines and assignments. Maybe even stuck in a meeting. 

But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Two. 

And your message is still completely unanswered. 

The more time that passes, the harder it becomes to shake the funny feeling that starts to build in your gut. It builds and builds and builds, all the way until closing time. 

And Jay still hasn’t texted you back. 

That’s annoying enough all on its own, but there’s something else that just isn’t adding up. 

You can’t quite put your finger on it, the thing that’s bothering you so much. But even as you make your way towards after clocking out for the day, something still doesn’t sit right with you. Opening your message thread again, you reread Jay’s last text. 

Jay: … my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. 

Sister’s baby shower. 

That’s what’s been bothering you. Because unless Jay’s sister is just finishing the shortest known pregnancy in human history, he’s lying to you. 

You remember it now. The first time Grace mentioned Jay to you. She had just seen him for the first time since he moved back home. 

At his older sister’s baby shower. 

Sitting in your car, you scoff out loud in disbelief. The ice he treads on has been dangerously thin since your run in with Jungwon at the boxing gym, and he had the audacity to lie? 

Part of you wants to catch him in it. For your own confirmation and for the satisfaction of not letting him get away with trying to pull a fast one on you. But you need an excuse. Some reason to seek him out and find him where he isn’t supposed to be. 

Racking your brain, you try to think of a plausible explanation for turning up at his house tonight. 

Still sitting in the parking lot, a car turns past you, headlights shining in through your windshield in a way that makes you squint. 

In a way that reflects off of the tiny piece of metal jammed in the crevice next to your cupholder. Frowning, you reach down, tugging at it until it’s freed from its confines. 

You’re not sure what divine forces are working in your favor, but you make a mental note to properly thank them later. Because clutched between your fingers is Jay’s missing ring. The one that he’s been looking for since he messaged you about it last week. 

It’s perfect, you think. An absolutely perfect excuse to drop by his house, even if you should be under the impression that he’s not there at the moment. 

Turning the piece of jewelry between your fingers, your eyes catch on an inscription on the inner band. Squinting, you can just make it out. 

2013.11.13 King Pen

You’re pretty sure the numbers are a date. November 13, 2013, to be exact. But King Pen. You have no idea what that is. 

It sounds like it could be related to boxing, maybe. Pulling out your phone, you do a quick online search. 

The results that flood your screen are mostly generic, nothing that gives you any real leads. You try a few different search combinations, including the date and finally, the name of your city. 

That does send an old article to the top of your search results. Something published in a local newspaper in 2007. 

Clicking on the link, you scan the article for anything relevant. 

Samuel Kang, one line towards the beginning reads, shared his plans to open a boxing gym right here in the city. Although there are other similar gyms in nearby towns, this would be the first gymnasium dedicated solely to boxing in the area. 

You skip down a few more lines. 

When asked if he knows what he’d like to call his project, Kang just smiles and nods his head. “King Pen,” he tells us. “I plan to call it King Pen.”

You frown. Your earlier search is proof enough that King Pen never came to fruition. As a final attempt at getting some answers, you type Samuel Kang into the search bar instead. 

This time, the first article that pops up does carry an air of familiarity. Clicking on it, you confirm your suspicion. 

Samuel Kang, as it turns out, never opened a boxing gym called King Pen. But he did open one called Kang’s Gym. 

Looking through the photo gallery, the weightlifting equipment appears to have been in much better shape in 2008 than it was a couple of weeks ago. But even though the paint was still bright and the training pads were fully intact, it is undoubtedly the same exact gym. 

There’s no reason for you to go there now. If anything, you should just drive straight to Jay’s house. But something still doesn't sit right with you. 

Why does Jay’s ring say King Pen instead of Kang’s Gym? Especially since it’s dated five whole years after the gym opened under its actual name. 

Besides, the gym is on your way to Jay’s apartment. If anything, it’s just a quick pit stop. A confirmation that you’re not going crazy. 

Putting your car in drive, you set the ring on your passenger seat and drive out of the parking lot. 

It’s already dark by the time you’re pulling into Kang’s Gym. Switching your car off, you remove your key from the ignition. 

Your automatic headlights still illuminate the strangely full parking lot in front of you. Frowning, you wonder why so many people are here. Even the night that you came with Jay, the parking lot wasn’t nearly this full, and yet, most of the boxing rings inside were occupied. 

Stepping out of your car, you close the door behind you softly. You’re not sure why you’re overcome with the urge to tiptoe. It’s not like you need to sneak around. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. 

But the whole thing feels strange, has you on edge. You make it only a few steps before your eyes land on a familiar car. 

“Sister’s baby shower, my ass,” you whisper out loud to no one. Unless she decided to celebrate her new child at a run down boxing gym, Jay is absolutely lying to you. Because that’s his sleek black car, right in front of you. You’d recognize it anywhere. 

And a few rows down, you confirm your other suspicion. You’ve never seen him drive it, but you have seen that particular navy blue SUV in the office parking garage before. Jungwon. You’re sure it’s him. 

For a moment, you hesitate. It might be easier, cleaner, to just take a picture of Jay’s car and send it to him. After all, that would get your point across clearly enough. Especially if you block him afterwards. 

But he’s been evasive about everything related to this place since he first brought you here. And he’s not the only one. 

Eyes falling to Jungwon’s car, you decide that catching Jay in a lie isn’t the only thing you want to do tonight. 

You want answers. 

So the picture you take of Jay’s car remains unsent for now. Instead, you hike your bag a little further up your shoulder and continue walking in the direction of the gym. 

Nearing the door, you brace yourself to be met with the large crowd that surely waits inside. Judging from the parking lot, this place must be near full capacity. But as you push through the unlocked door, the gym is completely and entirely empty. 

Eerily so. 

All around you, workout equipment and boxing rings sit untouched, devoid of life. There isn’t so much as a sound to disturb the uncanny silence. 

Frowning, your brow creases in deep confusion. Nothing about this makes any sense. 

But you didn’t come all the way here to add to your pile of questions. Instead, you push forward, past the rows of boxing rings towards the locker room where Jay left his bag a handful of nights ago. 

It feels wrong to open the men’s locker room. But if no one is here, then surely it couldn’t hurt. Warily, you start to crack open the door, inch by inch. 

The locker room, to your unending puzzlement, is just as empty as the rest of the gym. 

You’re about to turn back to search the rest of the gym when you notice it. Just across from you, behind the first set of empty lockers. There’s another door. 

It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself, even as your feet carry you closer and closer. It probably just leads to a storage closet or a boiler room or–

Pushing the door open, the first thing you’re met with is sound. 

Voices. Loud voices. Lots and lots of them. In your surprise, you drop the door, and it clicks shut again. 

Immediately, the sound stops. Plunged in silence again, it’s all you can do to not gasp. 

Soundproof, you realize. It’s soundproof. And not just the locker room. The entire gym was dead silent until you opened this door.

This time, when you push it open, you expect the cacophonous cheers that greet you. You’re still too far away to make out what anyone is saying. Right now, it all blends into a wall of sound. 

Vision is of little help, too. The only thing you see when you open the door is a staircase. In the low light, all you can tell is that it leads down. 

Hoping that you’re not currently making the stupidest decision of your life, you place one tentative foot on the first step. Follow it with your other foot. And then you let the door close behind you, plunging you into complete darkness. 

Immediately, a surge of panic claws at your throat. The lack of light, combined with the sheer volume of cheers and shouts, is enough to have you crawling in your skin. 

Reaching blindly for the door handle behind you, you decide that sending Jay a picture of his car will have to be satisfying enough. But no matter how hard you try to twist the doorknob, it won’t budge. 

No. No. 

You’re trapped. Effectively locked in. 

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you feel the pit of your stomach begin to drop. 

Part of you wants to just stay in place, wait for whatever’s going on to end and hope that a stroke of luck will set you free. But then another thought occurs to you. 

What if this is the only entrance?

You don’t know how many people are down there, but if the sound and parking lot are anything to go by, it’s a lot. 

You’re sure that Jay and Jungwon are among them, but still…

Both of their warnings start to come back to you.

“He’s not who you think he is…”

“I just want you to be careful…”

“It’s important to me that you’re safe…”

Is this what they were talking about? Is this why Jungwon was so angry with Jay for bringing you here? Not because he didn’t want you to see a boxing gym, but because that’s not what this place is at all?

The more you mull it over, the more it starts to make sense. 

Still submerged in darkness, you decide that the only way you’ll confirm anything is by moving forward. Slowly, you reach for your phone, turning the flashlight on its lowest setting. 

Keeping it clutched in your hands in case you need to shut it off at a moment’s notice, you begin to walk, descending down the staircase. 

After two flights on uneven steps, you start to see a light in the distance, a clue that you’re getting closer. And with every step you take, the voices only get louder and louder. 

On the third landing, you’re given two choices: continue down the stairs or move into a hallway that stretches to your left. Deciding that staying as far away from the crowd as you can is likely your best option, you opt for the hallway. 

You’ve barely walked a few feet when you nearly stumble into a wall. It’s not the end though – just a corner. The light from your phone confirms that the hallway takes a sharp turn. 

Following it, you come to another door. This time, you’re even more hesitant. There could be people on the other side. 

Pressing your ear against it, the only thing you hear is the same scrambled shouting, the same boisterous crowd. It’s hard to tell for certain, but you don’t hear anything that makes you think there’s someone waiting on the other side. 

Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door. 

The sudden light is nearly blinding. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do, your mouth drops open. 

You were right, thankfully. The small room you enter is mercifully empty. 

But it’s also lined with windows that give you a direct view into the room one level beneath you. Jaw dropping, you take in the scene below. 

There must be at least five hundred people crammed into the stands that encircle the room. All of them are on their feet, shouting jeers and cheering with equal fervor. 

And in the center of it all is a boxing ring. On the side that faces you, bold letters give it a name:

King Pen.

It’s empty for now, but you’re only left wondering for another handful of seconds before a middle aged man steps into the center, microphone in hand. With an open palm, he gestures towards the crowd, commanding them to listen. 

Whoever he is, he holds weight here. With the flick of his hand, literally, the room all but falls silent. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone. “Next up is the fight we’ve all been waiting for.”

He pauses for a moment as more cheers and shouts fill the room. 

“I hope your bets are placed, because these two always manage to surprise us. Please welcome our first challenger to the ring. Back to the city for the first time in years, it’s Jaan!”

But it’s not Jaan. Or at least, it’s not someone you know as Jaan. 

No, it’s Jay. The same Jay that took you to an art exhibition and convinced you to try sweet coffee instead of your usual bitter black. The same Jay that flirts with you over text and whispers sweet nothings in your ear after a long day of work. 

The same Jay that lied to you about why he had to cancel your date tonight. 

The crowd has barely died down when the man presses on, “And your second challenger, the reigning champion… Please give your warmest welcome for Jakah!” 

The alias booms around you, echoing through the room. And of course it’s him. Of course Jakah, the reigning champion, is someone you used to think would have trouble hurting a fly. 

Someone you thought embodied gentleness, patience, with every ounce of his being. 

But no matter how badly you want to deny it, no matter how much the cognitive dissonance wars inside your brain, it’s him. 

It’s Jungwon who enters from the other side of the ring. 

“Now, remember,” the man addresses the audience again. “Cheer for your favorite. Scream at his opponent. And don’t forget our golden rule: in the King’s Pen,” he begins. 

“Anything goes,” the audience shouts back in unison. 

Anything? Your heart falls from your throat to the pit of your stomach. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jay is here, that he lied to you, that he’s fighting Jungwon. 

Taking a closer look at the ring beneath you, you notice the odd, rust colored stains that nearly cover it. 

Blood, you realize after a sickening moment. The ring is covered in blood stains. 

It makes sense, suddenly, why King Pen didn’t appear in any search results. Why this entire place is completely soundproofed. Why Jungwon wanted you to stay far, far away. 

This isn’t a sparring match. It’s a duel. 

One where, like the audience just affirmed, anything goes. 

As the man steps out from the center of the ring, Jay and Jungwon start to circle each other, fists raised in anticipation. 

Even from a distance, you can see the tight coil of muscle in their shoulders, the way their bodies prepare for the inevitable fight. 

“Say it with me now, folks,” the man booms, now standing on the side of the ring. 

“Three.” Jay’s eyes narrow, fists rising an inch higher.

“Two.” Jungwon flicks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. 

“One.” You feel your last bit of breath whoosh out from your lungs. 

“Fight.”

It’s like a dance, you think. A sickening, deadly dance that you can’t look away from no matter how much you want to. 

Despite your lack of knowledge, it quickly becomes apparent to you why this is the main event of the evening. 

Where Jay is sheer, brutal strength, Jungwon is all evasion. He moves with the agility of an athlete, the lightness of a dancer. 

He makes it look easy, the way he ducks beneath carefully timed swings and always seems to predict what Jay will do next. 

But even dancers stumble sometimes. 

You can’t help it, the gasp that slips out when one of Jay’s punches lands true. You watch, horrified, as Jungwon staggers backwards, adding to the crimson stains on the floor of the ring. 

Slightly dazed, he brings the back of his palm to the broken skin along his cheekbone, assessing the damage. When he brings it in front of his face, it comes back red. 

Jay takes no pity on his opponent. Following his retreat, he aims for another bruising blow. This one hits Jungwon just beneath the ribs. Echoes around the makeshift stadium with a dull thud you hear even from your hiding place. 

Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter. 

The rise and fall of his chest is rapid as he struggles to catch his breath. But when he looks up again, there’s a fire in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred that permeates the scant distance between him and his rival and sends a shiver down the length of your spine. 

Not one to take things lying down, Jungwon takes advantage of Jay’s momentary lapse in focus. 

His fist connects with the bridge of Jay’s nose with a sickening crunch. Head falling backward, the immediate flow of blood is gruesome. It drip down his chin, landing on the floor beneath him in an arrhythmic pattern. 

There’s little grace to it now. Gone are the remaining fragments of inhibition as both boys put away their judgment and leave the rest to instinct. 

It’s messy, sloppy, angry. 

They’re so close; it’s hard to tell which blows come from who. Hard to tell whose wounds are multiplying faster, whose blood is falling more freely. 

And then, just when you think you can’t stomach watching any longer, it’s done. 

It’s so fast. You can’t quite be sure how it happens. But one second, both boys are standing, and the next, Jay is flat on his back, Jungwon hovering above him. 

Still, the crowd is silent. Everyone’s eyes are on the ring. 

Jay is down. Trapped beneath his opponent, it’s clear to you who the victory is. But then you remember the words the crowd chanted at the beginning of the fight. 

Anything goes. 

Your stomach twists with nausea. 

Even from here, you can see the tension that still strains the muscles along Jungwon’s back. The rigidity of his shoulders. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to do it. To strike again, even though victory is already in his hands. 

You see his lips move with words you can’t hear. Beneath him, Jay remains stoic. There’s still fight in his eyes, even if it’s been drained from his body. 

Jungwon’s mouth moves again. 

This time, Jay nods. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But it’s enough. 

With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again. 

Blood is still dripping from his face, his knuckles. Sweat covers his body, drenches his hair. 

He’s won, yes, but the expression on his features is not one of satisfaction. 

ARound him, the audience begins to boo, throwing jeers and insults like extra change. They were hoping for more than a fight. They were hoping for cruelty Jungwon isn’t willing to give. 

Without a second glance back, he turns and leaves the ring. 

Still reeling, you nearly jump out of your skin when the handle on the door to your room begins to turn. 

If you had a stronger grip on your sense of logic, you would do something. Try to hide. Scramble to think of an excuse for your presence. 

The door opens before you do any of it. 

“Oh,” Heeseung says, eyes widening as he finds the room already occupied. And then it registers with him who exactly is already occupying said room. “Oh,” he repeats. “He is not going to be happy about this.”

…..

Heeseung’s fist rings out against the door in three sharp raps. For a moment, silence is the only response. And then–

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Uh,” Heeseung glances at you sideways. “I think you should open the door anyway.” 

“I’m serious.” Jungwon’s voice is pure ire. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Heeseung.”

“Okay,” Heeseung concedes. “But I really still think you should open the–”

“What?”

Jungwon’s glare lands on his friend before his gaze slides to you. Immediately, his features slacken in surprise. “Oh.”

And it’s stupid, foolish, naive. But the first thing you feel when you see him standing on his own two feet is pure, unadulterated relief. 

He’s injured. It’s obvious from the wounds that line his face and the way his breath is still shallow in his chest. But he’s okay. 

He’s here and he’s in front of you and he’s okay. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung repeats. “Like I said, I think you should–”

“Go away.”

“What?” Heeseung balks. “Where am I supposed to–”

“Away,” Jungwon reiterates, eyes still locked on you. 

Heeseung is sulking, but he follows Jungwon’s command regardless. And then it’s just the two of you. 

You both speak at the same time, near identical questions overlapping with one another. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why are you here?”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

As if he is suddenly remembering your surroundings, Jungwon looks around you, a new urgency in his gaze. You don’t know what kind of consequences places like this carry, but common sense tells you it’s best that you’re not seen. “Come in,” he opens the door a bit wider, giving you space to enter. 

You shouldn’t. He hasn’t lied to you, not exactly, but it’s not like he’s been particularly honest either. 

And coworkers don’t owe you the truth or the nitty gritty details of their lives, but it’s been a long time since Jungwon and you treated one another like coworkers. No matter what you want to call it, the relationship that you’ve built between conversations in the workroom and email threads and kind gestures in the office feels a lot more like friendship. Or at the very least some iteration of it. 

So you’re not mad at him for keeping this from you, not really. 

But other emotions are swirling in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, you’re worried. For his safety. For his wellbeing. For him. 

Obeying his command, you step inside the small room. You hear the door click shut behind you. 

Looking around, there isn’t much to see. It’s a locker room, essentially, designed for one person. There’s a counter to your left with a small first aid kit and a chair in the far corner of the room. 

A gym bag, Jungwon’s you assume, rests next to it. 

And, of course, there’s the two of you. 

Glancing up, you take a look at him. A long, real look. 

He’s wearing the same clothes he entered the ring with. A white athletic shirt that moves with him, gives his long, lean muscles space to move. To flex and contract with every shallow breath. 

He’s still just as gorgeous as always, even with a split lip and a nasty cut that spans the length of his temple. Even with the bruising that’s already begun to discolor his near flawless skin. 

Sighing, you nod towards the chair behind him. “Sit down.”

“What?” Confusion draws his brow downward, and he hisses in pain at the movement. 

“Don’t tell me your illegal fights have ruined your hearing too.”

“What? No.” Jungwon shakes his head. “My hearing is perfectly fine, I mean.”

“Then sit.” You glance pointedly at the chair again. “Down.”

This time, he doesn’t try to argue. You watch from your periphery, frowning at the slight limp in his left leg as he walks toward the chair, easing himself down. 

Reaching for the first aid kit on the counter, you bring it with you as you move across the room. 

Your steps are slow and even. They carry you all the way to the far corner, until you’re forced to stop. 

Standing above Jungwon, your lips pull into a tight line as you begin to assess his injuries. Hesitation might be wise, but you can’t find any of it left in you. 

Your movements are sure, gentle but firm. Hands sliding to his jaw, you adjust his face slightly, turning the gash on his temple towards the light. It’s an echo of the way he examined you in the workroom, long weeks ago. 

This time, it’s him that’s easily manipulable underneath your touch. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

Your hesitation is gone, but so is your patience. “Don’t talk.” Jungwon’s lips fall shut. He’s pliant in your hands as you adjust him. 

Reaching for the kit, the first thing you pull out is antiseptic cream. 

“This might sting,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you. But he hisses at the contact all the same. “Doesn’t even hurt,” he lies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. 

If he’s trying to be funny, his attempt at humor is lost on you. 

Gaze still narrowed in concentration, you busy yourself by cleaning the worst of his wounds first. 

As you move from his forehead to his lip, you don’t think you imagine the sharp inhale he draws between parted lips. 

“It stings?” You ask him. 

“Just a bit.” You feel the ghost of his whisper against your fingertips. 

You look up for a moment, and you find his gaze already locked on yours. It takes a significant portion of your willpower to stop yourself from reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes. 

It feels wrong, even if you call it friendship. Even if you and Jay never discussed exclusivity. 

Your heart is fluttering, and that’s what makes it all seem so illicit. 

With no small amount of effort, you force your eyes down again. Standing above him, your fingers move from his face to his hands. His wrist clasped in your fingers, you sink to your knees in front of him. 

Jungwon swallows audibly. 

Pulling his hand closer, you examine the series of shallow cuts, of angry, violet bruises that line his knuckles. With another long sigh, you reach for the cream again, applying it generously before carefully wrapping it in a bandage. 

After giving the same attention to the other hand, you lean back, assessing your handiwork.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re still kneeling in front of him. He still sits above you. 

And then, after a breath of hesitation, one carefully wrapped hand finds its way to your face. 

Gently, with a touch so light you hardly feel it, he lays his open palm against the expanse of your cheek. Cradles it.  

He whispers your name, and you can’t find it in you to look up. 

“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure how to communicate the swirling mix of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“But you are,” Jungwon assumes. He accepts it, and he doesn’t let it change anything. His hand is steady against your cheek. His thumb starts to draw small circles, just under your earlobe. 

“I’m not,” you correct. “But this isn’t…” again your words die. It’s frustrating, the way you feel like you can never be straightforward with him. The way you always feel like you have to navigate through subtext and half truths and partial reveals just to get a point across. 

“But you don’t owe me anything right now.”

His thumb stills against your skin. 

“We’re coworkers,” you continue. “We’re just coworkers, so it doesn’t matter if you fight in illegal boxing matches. You don’t have to worry about what I think of it, and I don’t have to be mad at you for it.”

You do look up at him, begging for a bit of his understanding. “You can be evasive with your excuses and reject all of my invitations. We can meet by chance in the workroom on Monday afternoons, and none of it ever has to mean anything. Neither of us ever has to feel anything about it.”

“But,” Jungwon whispers. 

“Yeah,” you nod. Your cheek slides easily against the soft skin of his bruised hand. “But.”

Jungwon is silent for a moment, eyes darting between both of yours. Then, tentatively, he asks, “Are you mad at him?”

He doesn’t say Jay’s name, but the venom he wraps around the word is all you need to know who he’s talking about.

You shake your head, eyelids fluttering. “We’re coworkers.” You reiterate the boundaries he’s always maintained with you. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

Jungwon’s hand slides to your neck, thumb tracing the length of your jaw now. “And if I want to?”

You shake your head again. You can only give him so much on a silver platter. If he wants anything to change, he’ll have to find a bit of his own bravery. “That’s not the question you need to ask me.” Looking up at him, you draw another line. “And not tonight.”

You’ve both been through enough. Heightened emotions rarely lead to good decisions, and the last thing you want is his indecisiveness. His impulsivity.

Quietly, you stand, his hand falling from your face as you rise to full height in front of him. 

His eyes look wider from this angle, from above. Even shinier than usual. No matter how many boundaries you draw or how many ways you deny him, he’s someone that’s hard to say no to. Hard to walk away from. 

Steeling the last remnants of your resolve, you manage to look him in those dark, sparkling eyes when you tell him, “Good night, Jungwon.”

“Good night, ___,” he whispers to your retreating silhouette. 

Closing the door behind you, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a voice interrupts your wandering thoughts. 

“You like him, don’t you?”

The gasp you give is out of shock more than anything. And the “What?” you ask is a knee jerk reaction.

 “Yang.” Jay materializes from his position in the darkness, jerking his chin towards the door behind you. “You like him.”

Immediately, you find yourself on the defense. Even if you’re just delaying the inevitable, it’s cagey when you tell him. “We work together.”

Jay just looks at you. “My favorite color is green.”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Jay’s tone is flat. He’s not annoyed, but he’s coming close to it. “I thought we were stating irrelevant facts.” 

With a sigh, he drags an open palm down his face. “I know you work together. But you like him, too," he sighs again, reading the horror in your expression. Mostly due to the fact that he read you like an open book when you thought you were keeping your feelings close to the chest. “I’m not… mad. It sucks, but it’s not like I was honest with you either. I’m sorry, by the way, for lying about tonight.”

It’s too much to process, all at once. Your head is swimming and your heart is pounding. 

It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but– 

“You don’t have to say sorry–”

Again, Jay doesn’t let you finish. “I’m not saying sorry because I have to. I’m saying it because I am. I like you.” He’s so honest. So blunt with his feelings. He makes things so easy. “I like spending time with you. I think we both know that’s not enough anymore,” he casts another meaningful glance at the door behind him. The one that leads to Jungwon’s locker room, “but it’s still true.”

“I…” you trail off, unsure what to say. He’s not wrong. In fact, he’s all but hit the nail right on the head. With deadly accuracy. 

Heeseung was the one that found you, that brought you to Jungwon, but still. 

It’s not Jay that you checked in on fist. It’s not Jay whose wounds you just cleaned. It’s not Jay who you’re thinking about now. 

Like he said, it sucks, but it’s still true. 

Jay has bruises, too. Has cuts that line his knuckles and his jaw. He’s here because he’s part of an illegal underground boxing ring. He lied to you about it. 

But you just… you’re not mad at him about it. And that’s the final nail in the coffin. 

Jay just looks at you for a moment longer. For the third time, he sighs. “You’re really gonna make me do this part too?” He inhales, steeling his resolve. “Okay, then. ___, I think we should–”

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” you finish for him. You can give him at least that much. “I had a great time getting to know you, but I think we want different things right now. I wish you all the best. Really, you’re a great guy, Jay.”

He is. 

“I mean it.”

You do. 

“Thank you, ___.”

He means it too. 

When Jay walks away from you, his shoulders are straight and his head is high. 

You feel a lot of things, as you watch his retreating figure. 

But no matter how deep you search, regret isn’t one of them. 

…..

Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread. 

Partly because it marks the beginning of another long week. Mostly because going back to the office means potentially seeing him. 

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. If you’re ready to face the feelings you’ve been forcing down for months and the potential fallout they may bring with them. 

So, when you open your inbox first thing in the morning, an unreasonable request from your supervisor isn’t the thing you’re most afraid of finding. 

Jungwon, however, isn’t planning to stick to old routines. When he seeks you out, he does it in person. 

Grace’s eyes are anywhere but on her own work when he walks through the door of the marketing department half past ten. 

“___,” he breathes. 

The wounds on his face are already fading, hardly even noticeable. You wish you could say the same for the turmoil raging inside of you. You can’t decide if you want to throw your arms around his neck or tell him to fuck off. 

In the end, you just look at him blankly. 

“Can we…” he trails off, visibly frustrated. He isn’t sure how to do this either. “Can you help me with something? In the workroom. I think the printer is acting up again.”

The printer is fine. You used it five minutes ago. 

But he’s not asking you to help him with work or the printer or anything else. He’s asking for a bit of your time, a fraction of your understanding. 

It’s messy. It has so much potential for heartbreak, for complication. 

But he’s here and he’s looking at you like your answer means the world to him. Like he might forget how to breathe if you don’t say yes. 

So, with a rising bout of uncertainty, you tell him, “Let’s go take a look at it.”

The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. Jungwon doesn’t even spare it a second look. 

Instead, he closes the door to the workroom behind you. And then he says, “I started boxing when I was a kid. I think I was eight, nine maybe.”

“What are you–”

“Just listen,” Jungwon begs. “Please.”

You want to protest. You’re not sure why, but the urge is strong. But after a moment of warring with yourself, you finally nod, giving him permission to continue. 

“It was just a hobby. Something to keep me busy on long afternoons when both of my parents were working in the restaurant my family owned. But I kept at it, and they could see how much I enjoyed it. By the time I was ten, my mom enrolled me in actual classes.”

Jungwon smiles, reminiscing on the tidbits of a happy childhood. But then his smile starts to falter. “A few months later, my grandpa died. It wasn’t a surprise exactly, but it did have some unexpected consequences on the business. My family started to struggle. With money, more than anything.”

He sighs, and your heart hurts for a past version of him, too young to make sense of all of the sudden changes in his life. “I had to quit taking lessons. I kept practicing on my own, though. And when I started middle school, there was a free boxing club I joined. I met a lot of my friends there. Heeseung, who you met the other night, along with a few others. I also met Jay.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a line. “I didn’t hate him. Not exactly. He was nice enough, and we had a lot in common. But he had everything that I wanted. Money, mostly. His family never had to worry about it. He could take private lessons and always had all the nicest gear. He didn’t flaunt it, but I noticed. And I envied him for it.”

Looking back at you, he continues, “Heeseung was the one that found the King Pen. He was like me, in a way. His family didn’t come from money. We were young, too young, but we were good. We made them money, so they let us fight. Jay found out and wanted in too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need the prize money. He just wanted to prove that he was better than us. That he was the best. It was me and him in my very first championship fight. He won, and I hated him for it.”

The ring, you realize. Jay’s ring that he dropped in your car. It was a championship ring. 

Jungwon looks down at his hands. The bandages that you put there. “He moved away once high school started. We didn’t keep in direct contact or anything, but I always heard about him. Jay and his international boxing titles. Jay and his new sponsorship deal with a major boxing gym. It just added fuel to the fire that was already there. Made me resent him more, even if it wasn’t his fault.”

No matter how you spin it, you can’t imagine any of that was easy to deal with. Especially as a teenager. 

“With him gone, though, I started to make real money fighting. Good money. I lied to my parents and told them I got a part time job. Moving cargo so that they wouldn’t be too suspicious when I came home with bruises.”

Jungwon flexes his fingers. “Boxing became my saving grace. I could give a good chunk of my earnings to my family, and the rest of it, I saved. It put me through university. Let me earn my programming degree.”

You understand him a bit more, then. Why he never seemed annoyed by his job. Why even things like jammed printers never seemed to get to him. He’s thankful for where he is. Has nothing but gratitude for his job when he earned it with years of his own blood, sweat, and tears. 

“I have a steady income now, but it’s just… hard, I guess. To let that part of me go. And if I’m honest, part of me has always been afraid too. I mean, my parents had a steady income until they didn’t, you know? I like knowing that even if something happens here, I’ll still be able to support myself. And them.”

It makes sense. It does. 

“And then Jay came back.” Jungwon scoffs. “He’d barely been in town for a full twenty-four hours when he showed up at Kang’s with all of his fancy gear and asked to be added to the roster for the next round of fights. And then he showed up there with you and I… I thought I was actually going to lose it.”

Even now, Jungwon’s shoulders are visibly tense. “The actual gym is usually fine, safe for outsiders, but still. He shouldn’t have risked your safety like that. He should have known better. And I…” Jungwon trails off again. 

You don’t think you’re imagining the slight tinge of pink that starts to color his cheekbones.

“I was already having a bad enough time with the fact that you were seeing someone. When it turned out to be him, I just… Well, you know.”

Jungwon takes a deep breath in, releases a long exhale. 

“I don’t like making bets, and I don’t like situations I can’t predict. Things I don’t have control over. I guess that’s part of the reason why I always liked boxing so much. In the ring, I feel like I have a say in what happens. That even if I lose, it’s because I didn’t move fast enough. I didn’t think quick enough. Things I have control over. Things I can get better at.”

Jungwon looks at you. “I hate guessing. I hate having to wonder. I like sure things.” 

His chest is rising and falling a little faster now. Your breath is just as shallow. 

“What are you saying?” you ask him. 

“I’m saying that I don’t just want to be coworkers with you. I want you to be mad at me for fighting in illegal underground boxing matches.” Jungwon’s gaze is imploring, pleading for your understanding as his eyes search yours. “I want you to call me when the printer jams and when you have a hard day and when you want someone to go to a stupid work event with you on a Friday night.” 

He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine press against the door of the workroom. 

“I want you to be a sure thing,” he breathes, “even if everything about you – the way I feel about you, the thoughts I have about you, the things I want to do to you – have always felt out of my control.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small. Your mouth is dry. Caged in against the door, words are suddenly a hard thing to come by. 

“Oh,” Jungwon echoes. “Is that a yes?”

He’s even closer now. Nose brushing against yours, he interlaces the fingers of his less injured hand with yours, reaching up until your hands are intertwined above your head. 

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Mm,” Jungwon hums, and you feel the vibration travel the length of your spine, settling somewhere deep, just beneath your navel. His lips brush against the corner of your mouth when he asks, “It’s a no, then?”

Again, you shake your head. Trapped in his embrace, the movement is tiny, restricted. Sends goosebumps scattering across your skin everywhere the two of you are touching. 

“An oh is just an oh,” you tell him. “This is a yes.” 

There isn’t any distance to close. Just pressure to add. He accepts it willingly, even if the sudden contact against the still broken skin of his bottom lip has him releasing a hiss through his teeth. 

It’s a discomfort he gets over quickly. His other hand, the one not currently tangled with yours, relocates to the curve of your jaw before he’s doubling down, pain all but forgotten as his lips part against yours. 

A repeated motion. A rhythm that’s stilted at first but starts to feel natural the longer you continue. 

Over and over. Again and again until the action starts to feel useless. Until you’re not quite sure where his breath ends and yours begin. 

You’re in the office workroom, pressed against the door, and the printer is starting to beep in protest. 

You’re sure you’ll be thoroughly embarrassed when you inevitably leave long minutes later with mussed hair and swollen lips and a certain programmer trailing behind you that can’t contain his self-satisfied smile. 

But for now, you get what he means. It feels good. It feels like relief, to finally know where you stand with him. 

So instead of worrying about what your supervisor will think of your mussed collar and smudged lipstick, you pull him down a little firmer by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the hair along his nape. 

You sigh into his mouth, and the fervor he returns with leaves you well and truly breathless. 

And for once, it feels like a sure thing. 

…..

epilogue 

Jungwon: SOS

Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy

Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages 

Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help

You: I’m BUSY what do you need

Jungwon: The printer is jammed again

You: And what do you want me to do about that? Call maintenance

Jungwon: Oh please 

Jungwon: Last time I called maintenance they sent a guy that couldn’t tell A4 from A3 this is not the job for them

Jungwon: Plus they don’t have the magic touch like you

You: Literally what are you talking about

You: The last time I tried to fix the printer, I broke it so bad it was out of commission for two whole weeks

You: The entire floor was mad at me

You: I had to buy Grace coffee every day for TWO WEEKS

Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE

Jungwon: Just try once and if it doesn’t work I’ll call maintenance

Jungwon: I promise

You: …

You: FINE

You: On my way

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you sigh. The workroom door opens with little resistance, but as soon as you step inside, you frown. 

Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen. 

And the printer, at least from first impressions, appears to be working just fine. Completely jam-free.

You’re not left in the dark for long. A moment later, the door opens behind you. 

Tumbling in like an overexcited kitten, your boyfriend looks all too enthused to be dealing with a supposed jammed printer. 

Gesturing towards the machine in question, you frown at him. “What were you talking about? The printer is perfectly f–”

He cuts you off with the press of his lips against your own, pushing you backwards until you run into the printer, spine arching against the copier tray. 

“Jungwon,” you protest once he finally lets you up for air. “It’s like you want HR to start a case against us. You have got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He feigns innocence, even as he leans in again for another long kiss. 

“Mm,” you mumble, breaking free again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Faking printer emergencies as an excuse to make out. We’re at work.”

Jungwon leans back, but the only thing he uses the space for is to let himself scan you from head to toe. Biting his bottom lip, he runs a set of fingers through the hair that falls across his forehead. “You know, you’re a really terrible liar.”

“I’m not ly–”

“If you actually wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t fall for it every.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Single.” The top of your cheekbone. “Time.” The corner of your mouth.  

And you hate to admit it, but he kind of has you there. 

“Whatever.” You pout, but he just uses it as an excuse to plant another long kiss on your pursed lips. “I’m serious, Jungwon,” you tell him, even if you’re just as breathless as he is, despite the fact that you’re actively pulling him in by the back of his neck. “This has to be the last time.”

“Mm,” he smiles against your lips. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

outtake — seven months ago.

The tinted window of Jungwon’s secondhand car is hardly an ideal mirror, but he’ll have to make it work. 

Giving himself a final once over, he straightens his already immaculate tie. Tugs at the collar of his button down shirt so that it lays just a little bit nicer, the edges of the folds just a fraction of a millimeter sharper. 

Bending slightly, he smooths down his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Catching his reflection again, he suddenly has second thoughts about the version of himself that he sees. 

Bleaching his hair had seemed like a good – no, great – idea a few weeks ago. But now, dressed in business casual and about to begin his first day at a new job, doubts start to swirl through Jungwon’s mind. 

What if they don’t think the blonde is professional enough? What if it breaks some kind of unspoken dress code?

He knows it doesn’t break the actual, company mandated dress code. Mostly because he’s already read through the handbook. 

Twice. 

With annotations. 

Frowning slightly, Jungwon tilts his head to the side. He’s gotten pretty good with concealer, but there’s still a faint purplish tint that sits just along the edge of his jaw. 

It takes a decent amount of effort not to wince at the memory. Sunghoon had gotten him good that day. 

Jungwon forces his shoulders to relax. Forces himself to take one big breath in. Release it out slowly. 

He has no reason to panic. He went through the same, brutal rounds of interviews as everyone else and was deemed to be the most qualified candidate. He graduated summa cum laude in the same field he’ll be employed in now. 

And it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at his face close enough to notice any slight discoloration. Or, at least, he doesn’t think they will. 

To be honest, he’s not really sure how this whole thing works. Office jobs, no matter how many online forums he’s scoured and articles he’s read, are still a bit of a mystery to him. 

He hates it. Hates feeling out of his depth and ill prepared. Hates knowing that he’ll have to ask too many questions and stumble through tasks until he gets the basics down. 

But part of him is excited too. 

He did it. Standing in the parking lot of an otherwise rather unremarkable company, it hits him all at once. 

He actually fucking did it. 

All those nights in the ring. Every bruise, every scar, every drop of blood. Every saved penny, every skipped opportunity. 

They landed him here. An 8 to 5 office job that isn’t flashy or anything special from the outside, but to him, means the world. 

He’ll have it all: a steady salary, a place to be in the mornings, coworkers to notice when he’s not around. It’s not much, but it’s his. 

So, with one last deep inhale, Jungwon turns away from his car window and tracks a steady path on even footsteps towards the front door. 

And a handful of hours later, when Terry from accounting is still talking his ear off about his son’s latest hockey match in the doorway of the staff kitchen, Jungwon’s heart gives an unsteady lurch. 

“Hey, Terry,” you nod in acknowledgement, entering the kitchen in search of an early afternoon refill for your empty coffee mug. “Hey, oh.” Your eyes meet his, lips parting. Your words die when you realize you don’t know what to call him. When you realize you’ve never actually seen him before. 

And it’s not like Jungwon has never seen a pretty girl before, but – oh. 

Oh. 

Dressed in a rather simple, work approved ensemble, hair loose around your face, there’s nothing specific that he can pinpoint. All Jungwon knows is that there’s something about you that makes him want to keep looking. 

“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly. 

Behind him, Terry is still regaling the details of his kid’s game-winning goal. 

Eyes locked on him, a beat of heavy silence passes. And then –

“Hi, Jungwon.” 

Your eyes. He thinks it must be your eyes. Or maybe your lips. The delicate curve of your cheekbone. His gaze can’t decide where to land. 

“Hi,” he manages. 

Eyes sliding over his shoulder to Terry, you release a small, amused breath. “Hey, Terry?”

Stopping mid sentence, the middle aged man turns to you. “Oh, hi, ____. How are you?”

___. Jungwon thinks it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl. 

“Just fine, thanks.” You flash him a quick smile. Just a bare hint, and Jungwon feels his knees getting a little wobbly beneath him. “But I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Of course,” Terry nods a little too enthusiastically. Fifteen years at the same company, and he’s the kind of person that still jumps at the opportunity to be needed. Helpful. Jungwon thinks it’s kind of sweet, even if he wishes the man’s gift for brevity in storytelling could be a bit more apparent. 

“You know the printer in the workroom?”

Terry nods. 

“It’s jammed again,” you frown, the slightest hint of a pout pulling at your lips. Jungwon can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the movement. “Do you think you could take a look at it for me?”

Terry beams. “Of course! I’d be happy to.” 

And then it’s just the two of you. 

“He means well.” You smile again, softer this time. Like you’re discussing an inside joke only the two of you know about. 

Jungwon is suddenly finding his breath a difficult thing to maintain. 

“Does the printer do that a lot?” He finally manages to ask. “Jam, I mean.”

“All the time.” You roll your eyes. “You’d think a company raking in this much profit would have the cash to spare on a new machine, but no. This entire floor is just ill fated to suffer” There’s an air of humor to your words, a slight hint of teasing, even if Jungwon thinks there’s an undercurrent of truth to your words. 

You smile again. Teeth tugging at your bottom lip, Jungwon can only describe your expression as slightly devious. “It’s not jammed now, though.”

His brow furrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head. “I was given the gory details of Terry’s son’s soccer game yesterday. Trust me, I saved you a headache and an extra thirty minutes.” You wink at him, and Jungwon really, really hopes the sudden heat in his cheeks doesn’t look as obvious as it feels. 

“I think it was a hockey match, actually.”

“Oh.” You pause for a moment, considering. “Right.”

A moment of silence passes. Another. Jungwon has never minded the quiet, but he’s not quite ready for this interaction to end. Suddenly, he feels like he’s scrambling for something to prolong it. 

“Thank you.”

Your brow furrows. “For what.”

“The extra thirty minutes and the absence of a headache.” Jungwon taps two fingers against his temple. “I appreciate it.”

“Ah,” you smile, and this time it’s a bit brighter, wider. Jungwon, not for the first time today, thanks his lucky stars that he was accepted for this position. That it landed him here, sharing a staff kitchen with someone like you. “Anytime.”

He hopes you mean it. 

And when you turn away from him a few moments later, original mission to refill your coffee remembered, Jungwon looks up at the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut and takes a long, much needed breath. 

“Jungwon,” you turn back. Luckily, he’s just returned to a more natural standing position. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let this place get you down too quickly.” You wink again. Jungwon does his best to keep his features neutral. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, even though you’ve already turned back to the coffee machine. “Sure thing, ___.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: and we're done! thank you for reading! and thank you for bearing with me and the fact that this unfortunately had to be split into two parts. I hope you enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have. all the best ♡

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Heating pads

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: Your good time in Portimao being interrupted by your endo flare up again.

Warnings: endometriosis, cramps, love and care, infertility and baby talk

A/N: Wrote this last night and I poured into it some of my personal experience with endo, more this time. Surgery worked a little for me, it gave me a three months without cramps. Every body is different, every treatment works differently for us. But we’re in this together, endo sisters!

For @amberjazmyn 🧡

Don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

The weather at Portimao circuit wasn’t so pleasant as it was nearing the end of the year. F1 season was long gone and Max was able to finally avert his attention to his other hobbies (not gonna mention it’s still racing, but for his kinda own team).

Meeting with all the people around Verstappen.com Racing was a great one, especially with Thierry Vermeulen, because he was so funny, but humble at the same time.

You were always amazed how Max was so good at handling his many duties and hobbies at the same time. He was a great mentor, passing his legacy and wisdom and you watched how his temper calmed down a little through the years.

It wasn’t long ago when you moved to his apartment at Monaco, making your relationship more official after three years of being there and nowhere, between your job and his races. One day you decided enough is enough and you didn’t want to face your life alone anymore. That stirred some rumours through his fan base and also your parents weren’t able to hold back in their questions about you two starting a family. Truth was that you and Max weren’t exactly against having children, but the main problem was your endometriosis. Severe pain episodes, ending in ER may times, being neglected by doctors, saying it’s only in your head and that you need to sleep it off. You thought, for so many years, that you’re just insane, but after Max got through one of your endo flare ups with you, he got you through many doctor appointments, to the best specialists in the field, where you finally heard your diagnosis.

The surgery date was set after the new year’s, when Max would be still around to help you get back on your feet and mend your wounds with his love and care. But to that date your body just decided that you need to suffer.

You stood in the garage, watching how Max talked with the engineers and Thierry about some issues, his yapping always getting more and more interesting, when you felt a cramp in your lower back. It wasn’t unusual, you always had similar, and you brushed it off as some kind of back pain, most likely from standing for too long.

Watching Max racing at the empty track was always fun, he gave it his all, enjoying his time and it made you genuinely smile. But now you were pale, your forehead getting a little sweaty, same as your whole body. Feeling the need to sit down, you understood immediately, when the pain shot through your abdomen, pooling at your right side, that stretching burning sensation ghosting to your lower back. Trying to play it cool, you swallowed hard, smiling at everybody around.

About two hours later, Max was done with the testing, leaving the car to Thierry and he went to look through some performance reports, when he spotted you sitting at the bench, having that weird expression on your face like you were trying so hard to hide something, but failing miserably.

“Hey, love.. are you okay?”

His hand went to your cheek and you quickly shot him a look full of pain. He knew that look, seeing it more frequently in past weeks.

“Come here.” Without further words, he grabbed your hand and led you through the corridors to your car outside, where you had your things. Sitting you in the backseat, he quickly went to the trunk, rummaging through his bag, coming back after a while with some packages.

“Max, it’s okay, I can manage it.” You tried to protest but he dismissed you.

“Let me take care of you, I’m prepared.” Sitting beside you at the backseat, he opened both packages, shaking the contents a little with an approving hum. Heating pads. Your eyes went wide with surprise, but then your face softened, your eyes nearly welled with tears.

Warming his hands with the pads a little, he carefully lifted up your hoodie along with your top, to get to your bare abdomen, placing one pad under the waistband of your pants and the other at your lower back. You were always taken aback, how he remembered the location of your pains, where it hurts the most. After he was sure he placed pads securely, he pulled down your top and hoodie.

“Does it feel good?” Cupping your cheek, he had a concern written all over his face and you just nodded. With soft hum, he wrapped his hands around you, getting you closer to his chest, holding you tight against him, making sure you’re comfortable.

“Thank you, Maxie..” your sweet murmur made him smile, your hands hugging his warm and huge body like a teddy bear, the heating pads bringing you comfort you needed.

“Anything for you, my love.. I would go to the end of the world if it meant for you to be in less pain.” Max kissed your temple softly, letting out a soft sigh.

“You’ve done so much for me in this case, I don’t know how I deserved this.”

“You deserve the world, darling. And those pains.. I would do anything to take it on myself instead of you. I hate to see you contorted by it. Packing those heating pads it’s less than I can do for you, to make it easier.”

“You really changed my life, Max.”

“Oh, baby. You changed mine. A lot. I wasn’t this happy like I am beside you. I never forget that moment you smiled at me at that coffee shop in London, because you absolutely stole my breath.”

You chuckled softly, but the slight shot of pain made you wince a little.

“Can you please rub my back a little? It helps also..”

Max just nodded, sneaking his hand under your top, his warm hand rubbing the heat into your skin slowly and gently, making you relax more.

“You know, when we bought this car back then, I thought that it will be different action we’ll be doing on the backseat..” his voice was laced with teasing, trying to make you smile.

“Well.. I thought so too, but I can’t even imagine doing it right now.”

“No, love, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re in discomfort and never in the right mind I would try to make a move on you like this.”

Max liked being intimate with you, your chemistry being something undeniable when you two got to bed, but he respected you and your body. He would rather not have sex with you for weeks than to cause you pain.

“I know, I know, sorry. But we can try after I’m healed from surgery. And there can be a little miracle after. Like we talked many times before. Little Verstappen tapping around.”

It was true happy smile he saw on your face in a while. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of having a baby with you.

“Sure, whatever makes you happy, love. And whatever doesn’t cause you pain.”

His soft lips kissing your nose in the most lovely way was something only you could see. To the world he was that unbeatable lion on the track, dominating champion. But with you he was a caring, loving boyfriend, who would die for you in every way possible.

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 3 - Bolt

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Back again! I have split the final chapter into two parts as it makes more sense that way, you’ll see why when you read the last one – which hopefully I should be able to post later this week, or early next – I’m just working on getting it right. Warnings for angst, angst and angst in this part – sorry in advance. I felt a bit weepy writing this. I’ve been blown away by the support this story has received, especially as it was written on a bit of a whim, so thank-you for all your reblogs and comments – it means a lot!! Also shout-out to the recent Variety SebStan photoshoot - very inspirational...

💔

You were sleeping like the dead, it was a miracle that anything could’ve woken you – but the soft click of the hotel door opening must’ve cut through the void somehow, because you shot up in bed awake, disorientated and suddenly on alert. Your breathing was heavy as you adjusted to your surroundings. What…where were…?

Bucky gently closed the door behind him and rushed over to your bedside.

“Hey, hey…it’s just me, you’re okay doll. I’m sorry I startled you. I was trying to slip in quietly…” he cooed, “I thought knocking might be too jarring…stupidly…”

You blinked at him, you were just able to make out his face in the dark as recognition sunk in. His features were subtly illuminated by the parking lot lights, the room’s curtains doing little to keep that glare out. He looked tired and drained; his hair unkempt. There was a weariness in his face that you hadn’t seen before. You groggily flicked on the bedside lamp as your brain caught up with the rest of you.

For a blissful moment you’d forgotten it all, from the haze of sleep, you’d forgotten why you were here. Bucky! Bucky is here! Your safe place. You began to smile and instinctively moved towards him. He smiled too, a relieved smile, holding out a hand to you so you reached for it with your own –

Wait.

Oh.

You saw the hope in his eyes dwindle when you jerked away from him, a scowl hardening your expression as you whipped your hand back as quickly as if it had been burnt. You pulled the sheets high and tight, covering your body as if you didn’t like that any of you was visible to him.

As he tried to lean over to get closer to you, you greeted him with a blunt, hard slap across the face.

He recoiled, his hand moving to his stinging cheek as he stood up to his full height and stepped back, “fine. I deserved that…”

“What are you doing here?” you sneered, “How did you even get in?”

He tilted his head towards the door and held up a key card, “They let me in. They gave me a key”.

“Well, they shouldn’t have! They shouldn’t just give away door keys to random people…”

“They don’t, just me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, “You think this is funny?”

“Doll…” he reached out to you again, but you smacked his hand away.

“No,” you growled.

“I found out the truth…I know it wasn’t you. I’m so sor-” he sounded frantic, stuttering and jumbled, worlds away from the cool and collected man you knew so well. But you were unmoved, his betrayal still stinging and raw.

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your tone flat and cold, “it’s too late”.

“I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry, baby. I flew off the handle without talking to you. I should’ve trusted you…” he pleaded.

“Yes, you should’ve,” you snapped bitterly, “but you didn’t. You wouldn’t let me talk, you just shouted…then you threw me out with nothing! Like I was trash! I walked for nearly two miles alone in the dark, in the middle of the night, Bucky. Anything could’ve happened to me…” your voice wobbled slightly at the end of your sentence; you took a deep breath – refusing to let anymore tears fall for him.

He dipped his head, his gaze dropping, unable to look at you. “I know, you’re right…I keep thinking about it…I keep…”

“Save it!” you shouted, a little more emotional than you intended. “All I wanted was for you to listen to me. I don’t know anything about a recording, or my phone pinging, or whatever you were ranting about. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t believe me, after everything we’ve been through…”

He sighed heavily, then withdrew his phone from his pocket. He began to scroll through.

You scoffed, “what are you-”

And then your voice, clear as day, rang out from his phone. Bucky held it up towards you, his face pained. You listened, stunned, as you heard yourself on the recording. It was so real you almost considered that it was you, and you’d somehow forgotten that you’d actually said it.

“Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything…”

After it had finished, you furrowed your brows in confusion, your mouth hanging open.

“But that wasn’t…” you whispered.

“I know. I know that now,” he sighed, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Rumlow set it up. He put it together with cutting edge AI, some advanced tech Stark helped develop. He also planted fake footage of you on the CCTV. Took your phone to an incriminating location. But Sam caught him tonight. He’s been working with the feds to bring me down, to make room for a HYDRA revival. He knew I’d be weaker and easier to takedown if you and I fell apart, so breaking us up was a two-birds-one-stone deal”.

You blinked, bewildered, a chill running through you as you thought about the lengths someone would go to in order to break you and Bucky up. You knew a little about HYDRA, the rival syndicate that Bucky used to work for before he struck out on his own. They’d been defunct for years, or so Bucky had told you. The implication of someone being able to make your voice say anything they wanted also haunted you. Rumlow could’ve even framed you for a crime with such technology. It was…scary.

You could see why Bucky freaked out, presented with all of this incriminating evidence, but…

“Rumlow didn’t break us up, Bucky”, you said quietly as your words sharpened. “You did. You could’ve come to me first. You could’ve showed me this and we could’ve set everything straight. Instead…you went nuclear…”

He dropped his gaze again to the threadbare hotel carpet, unable to meet your eye. It was almost funny, he looked small for the first time since you’d met him. Despite his towering height and hulking frame, he almost seemed like a little boy in that moment.

“…I just can’t believe you thought I’d do something like that to you. That I’d betray you like that. That I could look you in the eye every day and lie to you and…”

He suddenly looked up, quickly snatching your hand, “I’m so sorry, doll, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made…I’d do anything to take it back…”

“Well you can’t!” you sniped back at him as you tore your hand away from his, tears in your eyes. “You must think so low of me that you think I’d be capable of this. And all the stuff you said about me leeching off you for your money! I’ve never been comfortable spending your cash and you know that! I can’t believe you’d throw it all back in my face…”

“Baby, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean of it. I was hurt…” he said, the desperation building in his voice as his eyes widened, “I was just trying to hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. I didn’t really think it. I never have”.

“It must’ve come from somewhere!” you spat venomously, “you didn’t pull it out of thin air…”

“I promise. I was just throwing words out and didn’t care what they were as long as they hit. I just was so mad,” he sat down on the bed and began running his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes, he always did that when he was stressed.

He sighed heavily, then turned to you, “Look”, he began – his voice soft now. “I guess part of me always thought this was too good to be true…everything happened so quickly when we met. I’d always been content with one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Then I met you, and…” he trailed off as he chewed his lip, carefully choosing what to say.

You watched him, your earlier anguish now hardened into pure rage, you wanted to kick him out – send him out into the street the way he had with you. But you also wanted to hear this. You wanted to understand what possible reasoning there could be for causing of this pain. What weak excuse he could use to try and justify his cruelty. He looked at you again. His eyes were kind, warm. But you couldn’t help but remember the coldness in them from earlier. You didn’t think you’d ever forget it.

“I guess…everything changed. I fell for you so hard. You took over my life. Invaded my thoughts, my senses. I just wanted to be with you all the time. And to my surprise…you felt the same. This sweet, wonderful woman wanted to be with me, too. I was sure you’d turn away when you found about my job…my past…my scars, my arm... Because why wouldn’t you? You were kind and decent. You saw the best in people. How the hell could you love someone like me? A killer. A monster…”

“Bucky, I…” you croaked.

“Please, just let me finish…” he pleaded, “but somehow, you did love me. And I know you moved in with me quickly, but it felt right. You had a rough start in life, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of you and fix it so you didn’t have to worry about money or paying bills or any of that ever again. I wanted you to sleep soundly, knowing I would protect you and do right by you and you wouldn’t have to sling burgers and fries to get by anymore. And part of me knew it was selfish…because you deserved better than me. You deserved the white picket fence, a dull but decent man with a boring job who comes home and tells you about whatever shit Janet in Accounting got up to that day. But no, you had me – who stole you from that peaceful future to make myself happy. I worked late and committed violent acts. I had to give you bodyguards just in case. I uprooted your entire life. I did my best to give you the love you deserve, but I couldn’t even get that right. When I heard that tape…it was like the universe telling me what I already knew - I wasn’t worthy, and the debt I owed was getting collected. I guess part of me always expected I’d inevitably screw it up, because I never deserved you in the first place. And I’m just sorry that I proved myself right”.

You sniffed back your tears, bowled over by his words. He’d never said anything like this to you before, you had no idea he held those insecurities. The silence hung heavily between you, until you finally spoke, your voice shaky.

“But I was happy slinging burgers. And I never wanted the boring guy. I never wanted the white picket fence. I wanted you, Buck. Only you. I knew who you truly were, and it didn’t matter. It never mattered. You did deserve me. You did deserve love and everything we had…until…well…this”.

He nodded sadly, taking your hand in his.

“I know that now, doll, I do. I ended up sabotaging the best thing that ever happened to me because of my own fears. And that’s on me. But look…I need to ask, do you think you could ever forgive me? I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll go at whatever pace you want…We can just be friends and see how it goes. I’ll go to therapy to sort out my shit. Anything. I’ll never doubt you again. All I ask is that you give me one final chance to fix this. Please, doll…I’m begging you…”

You looked into his big blue eyes, glossy with his unshed tears. Your heart ached and twisted at the sight. You’d never seen him looking so vulnerable before, so lost. You loved him so very much. You would’ve taken a bullet for him if he’d asked. He was correct that the two of you had moved fast in your whirlwind romance, but it always felt like a natural progression. It had always felt right.

But something had shifted. Something monumental. And you didn’t know if it could ever be like it was. It was wrong now.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I can’t….I…” you whispered, squeezing his hand as your tears began to fall. “I want to…I just…I don’t know if I can…”

He inhaled deeply and your heart shattered as you saw the flash of anguish in his eyes. But then he took a moment, a sad but accepting smile creeping over his face. He leaned over and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“It’s alright, doll” he told you softly. “This was my fault. I’m not gonna force it or push you to forgive if you’re not comfortable doing so, okay? Not because I don’t care or don’t want to fight for you. But because I love you, and loving someone means sometimes you have to let them go”.

You nodded as you looked up into his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, c’mon…” he soothed.

He quickly vanished into the en-suite bathroom, returning with a small wad of toilet paper to dab at your tear-soaked cheeks. He extended a finger and gently moved it under your chin, propping your face up to look at his. The tenderness and care he showed you was what you were used to with Bucky. This was the version of him you’d always known. It almost made you forget about everything. Almost.

You both shared a small smile. A melancholic smile, a smile that you both understood meant too much had happened here tonight. Too much had changed. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Nothing was spoken, but everything was said.

It was hard to know how much time had passed, but eventually he got up and moved to the door. You didn’t stop him, and he didn’t ask you to. He ran a finger over your trusty red backpack as he passed the desk. He chuckled and picked it up, “I should’ve known this old thing was involved. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you left with no clothes or money…but you’ve always been the most resourceful person I know.”

You smiled back at him weakly.

“It’s funny…” he mused as he caressed the straps, “you had this emergency kit already to go. Just in case…”

You shook your head, “no…it wasn’t meant to be a kit, it was just left from where I moved in with you. I didn’t-I just dumped it when I…”

“Yes…left fully packed and untouched. With clothes and cash. And debit cards, presumably. Stashed in a closet by the front door. That doesn’t strike you as a choice? A plan? Even if you weren’t fully aware of it?” he asked.

You didn’t respond as the silence laid thick between you. Incisive Bucky, as always. He could read you better than anyone on the planet. You knew he was right, he knew it too. You swallowed, looking down at the frayed thread on the bedsheet.

“You are always planning, doll. Because you always had to, with the life you’ve had. You always had to keep moving and stay one step ahead. We both know that”.

Again, he was met with your silence as you pulled at the thread. But there was no denial. You couldn’t deny the truth.

“Guess we both had our own ejector seats for this plane,” he mused as he moved the bag back to how he found it. “Looks like we had even more in common than we knew”.

He was right, again. It seemed that both of you had your anxieties and insecurities about this relationship. Both of you were maybe a little too cynical and world weary to believe in happy ever afters. His had manifested in anger, in rage…yours in being ready to flee at any time. Both of you had been on the starting line waiting for that pistol to fire.

But it had only finally imploded because of him.

He continued his slow march to the door, clearing his throat as he looked back at you.

“I meant what I said, every word. I’d do anything to get you back. I’d go at any pace, I’d take whatever you offered – in any form, as long as I’m still in your life in some way. I’d spend the rest of my days apologising if I had to. But honestly, I’d also be happy just to be your friend. Okay? So, you can call me, text me, anytime. Hell, just send me an emoji. Even if you just to talk. Even just to yell at me. I’ll always pick up, I promise”.

He pulled a business card from his wallet and placed it on the desk, “here. Put my number in your new phone when you get one”.

You stayed mute, but your eyes followed his hand as he gently put the card down.

“Will you be okay? For money, I mean?” he asked as his hand rested on the doorhandle, “because I can…”

“I’ll be fine Buck, I always am”.

“Yeah doll, I know”, he said softly.

Neither of you said goodbye. Maybe it was too hard to actually say the word out loud. Speak it into existence and accept its reality. So, he just nodded at you, and you smiled back, and you tried not to think about the tears glistening in his eyes or that painful tugging in your chest.

A few seconds later he was gone, and then it was as if he’d never been there at all.

[sincerelyneo]

blank space | p.js

“i get drunk on jealousy”

💿now playing: blank space by taylor swift

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Jisung, is just so damn…oblivious, and it’s going to get him in trouble one day. Especially if he keeps letting that make up artist flirt with him right in front of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, angst, idol!au

❯ words: 4.1k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, a lot of jealousy, possessive!reader, switch!jisung, praise kink, oral sex (both), unprotected sex (don't do this!), fingering, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, marking, angsty, literally just reader getting jealous and then getting pissed at jisung for not realising it (lowkey real but I may be projecting).

“No seriously, Jisung, you have the prettiest eyes for eyeliner. It gives you crazy sex appeal,” the makeup artist says with a bite of her lip, smudging the black colour out beneath Jisung’s eye. 

Your boyfriend blushes and nods, cheeks flushing pink as he mutters out a rushed, “Thank you.” 

Your left eye starts to twitch — there’s no way you could keep your sanity hearing another woman say your boyfriend has any kind of sex appeal. You consider the consequences of potentially trying to gauge her eyes out if she carries on. Not worth the jail time. 

Instead, you watch her, tight-lipped and sharp gaze as she lets her fingertips graze Jisung’s cheeks a little too delicately, her touch lingering for way longer than it should. Compliments flowing out of her mouth like water as she studies parts of his face that only you should know about. 

And that’s not even the worst part — oh no — the part that’s driving you absolutely insane is the fact that Jisung is completely oblivious to it all. Honestly, the more toxic part of your brain wants to call it him being complicit but deep down you know he’s simply just clueless. In fact, you had to be the one to make the first move at the beginning of your relationship because the poor boy could not pick up on any of your flirting signals. 

At first, you thought it was cute; maybe it still is when he’s obvious to you — but to other girls — absolutely not. On one hand, Jisung was everything you could ever want in a boyfriend—bubbly, friendly, and kind, like a lost puppy who always found his way back to you. But his obliviousness to the world around him drives you up the wall.

Especially when it comes to that makeup artist who laughs a little too loudly at his jokes. He’s not even that funny, you think with a scoff. 

Jisung does, however, notice the sound escaping your lips and his eyes snap to the mirror in front of him to study you. You’re lazily scrolling through your phone, body turned away from him with a bored expression.

His eyebrows furrow, you’re pissed, but why? 

He took the trash out last night when he got home from practice, he didn’t eat your leftovers despite really wanting to, he told you he loved you this morning, and he even let you have the aux on the drive to set. 

“Everything okay Y/N?” 

You look up from your phone to meet his eyes through the mirror, “It will be if she—”

“Jisung, tilt your head back for me a little,” the makeup artist interrupts, voice high pitched and so fucking annoying. “I can’t see your gorgeous eyes like this.”

Is this bitch for real? 

You can't take it anymore. It's like he doesn’t even notice—or maybe he just doesn’t care. If the roles were reversed, you’d have called the guy out by now. But Jisung and his total utter obliviousness strikes again.

Deciding you’ve had enough, with a tight smile and quick glance at Jisung, you get up to leave. But before you can take two steps, he calls after you, voice laced with that confused, puppy-dog innocence that only makes you more frustrated.

"Wait, where are you going?"

You shrug, “Somewhere where I’m not interrupting.”

There’s a flicker of confusion in his eyes, then a hint of realization, as he studies your soured expression, pointed in a certain woman’s direction. He turns to the makeup artist, who’s still holding her brush up midair, looking at him expectantly.

“Noona,” he says with an apologetic smile, “do you think we could take a break for like fifteen minutes?”

The way he says it—"Noona"—sends a fresh wave of annoyance through you. It’s petty really on your part but you can’t help but wonder how close the two of them actually are. You thought she was just a random makeup artist. 

“Sungie, our time is already short—”

Jisung gives her a soft look. “Please.”

She frowns but ultimately nods, packing up her kit with a pout that makes you want to roll your eyes.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Jisung turns in his chair to face you fully, hand reaching out to hold yours. "What’s going on? Are you okay?"

You shake off his hand, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Noona?”

His eyes widen as he stumbles over his words. “It’s… just polite,” he says, looking genuinely puzzled. “She’s older, so I thought—”

“You’re kidding, right?” You let out a huff. “She was practically flirting with you!”

Jisung blinks, still looking as lost as ever.

“Flirting?” he says, furrowing his brows. “No, she was just doing her job. She has to say nice things—they do it to all the other boys.”

“All the other boys are single,” you let out an incredulous laugh, crossing your arms tighter. “And that went beyond saying nice things, Jisung, she was calling you sexy and practically petting your face!”

He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “It… might’ve sounded like that, but I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.” His eyes flicker down. “She’s just… really friendly, maybe?”

“Friendly? So it would be friendly if another guy started calling me sexy right in front of you?”

“Well, no, but–”

You don’t even let him finish before you’re snapping again, “Not to mention that she was practically drooling over you, and she called you, Sungie!”

He lets out a soft sigh, trying to keep up with your frustration but clearly not understanding. “The guys call me that too,” he says, still wearing that innocent expression. “It’s not a big deal…is it?”

Is he serious?

You shake your head and tongue the inside of your cheek in disbelief. You give him a final glance up and down and try to head for this door again – but this time he’s out of the chair and grabbing your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“Let go of me, Sung.”

“No, baby, you’re mad at me, and I don’t want that,” he looks at you, alarmed now, eyes wide. “I swear, I don’t see her that way. I didn’t even notice she was flirting with me.”

“That’s exactly my point, Jisung!” You let out an exasperated sigh. “You didn’t notice. You never do.”

Jisung sighs, and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh, his lips twitching.

“Okay, I get it, you’re frustrated with me.” He pulls you in a little closer, tilting his head with that slight smirk, his voice dropping as he says, “But just so we’re clear… I only notice when you flirt with me.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, clearly, that stupid grin of his doing nothing to ease your annoyance though. You pull your wrist from his grasp, fixing him with a deadpan look, but he doesn’t stop, leaning in closer with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Baby, she’s not the one I think about when I’m sitting in that chair,” his hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you just close enough that you’re practically breathing the same air, his voice low and teasing. “I only think about you. I love thinking about only you.”

He brings his hand up to your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilts your face up to his. “Only person I want is you. And I’m sorry for not realising. I never want to upset you.”

Your cheeks flush, but you’re still not ready to let him off the hook that easily.

“Maybe you wouldn’t upset me if you weren’t so clueless,” you say, voice half a grumble. “You’re mine, Jisung, and I don’t like other girls thinking they can talk to you like that.”

He nods, his grin widening as his lips ghost over yours. “Got it. So I’ll just have to show you I’m yours then, huh?”

You hold onto a sliver of your stubbornness, giving him a final huff. “If you don’t, maybe I’ll let some ‘friendly’ guy flirt with me next time.”

His playful look falters, just for a second, and he leans in, his tone dropping. “Not happening,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re mine, too.”

His words spark something inside you—a flicker of pure competitiveness. You lean into his kiss, rough and messy, pouring your frustration into it as your fingers grip his jaw, moaning into him. Jisung whimpers in response, his broad hands moving instinctively to hold your waist—but you’re quicker, pinning his wrists above his head as you press him against the wall, bodies flush.

You watch as his biceps twitch at the movement. You know Jisung – know his body so damn well – that right now he wants nothing more than to touch you, to grope and grasp your body like he owns it. But you’re still mad at him. He knows that. And although he can easily overpower you and have you under his mercy, Jisung lets you deny him what he wants most. Truthfully, he secretly loves it when you make him feel like this — powerless and desperate. 

You pull away from him, lips swollen and puffy as they start to pepper kisses down the column of his neck. Images of that makeup artist flicker in your mind as you suck hard against his pale flesh. You know you shouldn’t be doing this – he has a music video to shoot – but something tells you to mark him, claim him as yours for her to see. And judging by the way Jisung moans as your teeth nip at the sensitive skin, you know he’s enjoying it too. 

It’s not something you usually do, but right now, he doesn’t mind at all. He’s yours. 

Jisung’s chest heaves, his skin bearing the reddened claim of your lips that’s starting to deepen. There’s a rush of satisfaction—pride, maybe lust—in your eyes as you study the mark on his neck, and you see the same desire mirrored in his gaze. His lips are glossy with your spit, parted and breathless; and despite you easing your grip on his arms, he keeps them obediently above his head –  like such a good boy.

He looks so wrecked and needy, and you haven’t even touched his cock yet.

“You’re usually such a good boy, Sungie,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, looking down at you with eyes that are so full and desperate.

“Always want to be good for you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You giggle, fingers tracing his cheek. “Yeah? You’re going to be obedient for me, and only me, right?”

He nods eagerly.

“Prove it.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. With a firm grip, he cups your thighs beneath his arms and tosses you against the leather sofa in his dressing room—the same one where you’d watched that makeup artist flirt with him. If only she were here now to see and hear everything she’d never get to experience.

You reach for his belt buckle, being just mindful enough to undress him carefully since he’s still in his shoot clothes—but only just. His shoes and clothes drop to the floor and he’s a lot less gentle when it comes to undressing you, tearing away every barrier that’s preventing him from making this up to you.

When you’re finally naked, Jisung sinks between your thighs, sinking a single digit into your needy wet cunt.

You mewl at the stretch of his fingers, enjoying the delicious burn shooting through you as he adds a second one. Jisung loved this part, prepping you and watching you get dizzy from just the length of his fingers. He loved seeing you squirm in pleasure – and truthfully – he’s starting to think he enjoys seeing you squirm with jealousy too. Even if that hadn’t been his original intention. 

He scissors his fingers meticulously, knowing every place he needs to touch to have you panting and moaning. When he feels you tighten around him, he does the only logical thing in his mind and leans in and starts to lap at your clit. You tremble, stomach contracting as you thread your fingers through his hair. Just feeling you writhe beneath him makes him smirk against you – he’s sick –  increasing the pace of his fingers.

“Fuck–Sungie” you pant, still twisting underneath him.

The pointed tip of his tongue works against your clit without stopping, warm breath coasting over you as his fingers curl specifically inside your until he finds the most sensitive spot that makes your knees quiver. 

“You gotta cum first,” he murmurs, the ripple of his deep voice vibrating against you. “I gotta make it up to you.”

You hum, a low, contented sound, tightening your grip on his hair and sinking further into the sofa as he licks at your pussy, relentless and thorough. His fingers glide effortlessly against your inner walls, pressing in just right without resistance. He works you into a frenzy until soft, needy whimpers spill from your lips. A flicker of worry crosses your mind that someone outside might hear—but then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Gotta make it up to my girl,” he murmurs, voice low and coaxing, “Cum for me, baby. Please, cum for me.”

And you do—so fucking hard. Your body tenses, pleasure tearing through you as his fingers stay persistent, thrusting even as he feels you clench around them. His mouth never leaves your swollen clit, tongue working you over until you’re unravelling completely beneath him. Your loud cries fill the space and send a clear message: he’s yours. 

Jisung doesn’t stop, his movements steady and focused, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from you as he watches, eyes dark with pride.

When he feels you coming down, Jisung pulls his fingers from you slowly, sliding them into his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he tastes you. Your heart races at the sight and your eyes flash with renewed lust, the haze of desire clouding any other thought except one: you have to show him you’re his too.

Without a word, you push him back, guiding him to sit as you settle on his lap, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. You’re driven by that one thought: to make sure he feels just as claimed, just as wanted. He shivers beneath you, hands gliding to your hips, gripping as he tilts his head back.

"Baby, you don’t have to—this was supposed to be about you,” he mutters, voice thick and shaky.

You hush him with a smirk, fingers wrapping around him as you give a soft, teasing lick to his tip. His breath catches, eyes growing darker as he watches you, transfixed. His cock twitches in your hand, and without another word, you take him between your swollen lips—lips he’d claimed, lips he ached for.

Slowly, you let him fill your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you draw him deeper, savouring every reaction. His hand drifts to the back of your head, resting there, a gentle weight that spurs you on. As you start a steady rhythm, moaning softly, you feel his knees tremble, just like yours had. He sucks in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the back of your head as he tries to keep himself steady, but his hips jerk up involuntarily at the heat of your mouth. 

“God, baby… feels so good,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded as he watches you. His pulse quickens with every slow pull of your lips, every hum you let slip that reverberates right through him.

You take him deeper, teasing the underside of his length with your tongue, relishing how his breathing gets rough and ragged. His fingers tighten just a bit, grounding himself against the overwhelming pleasure, though he’s still letting you set the pace, just like the good boy he wants to be for you.

One of your hands slips down to tease his balls, and you pull back just enough to catch a glimpse of him. His eyes are shut now, mouth open in bliss, and you smirk before taking him back between your lips. With each movement, you let your saliva coat his length, stroking him in sync with the rhythm you’d started.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasps, his hand still resting on your head, gentle but anchoring. “If you keep going like that—”

At the needy sound escaping him, you pull back, and he lets out a frustrated whine, his hips bucking instinctively to chase the pleasure you’ve just taken away.

“Baby…” he murmurs, almost breathless.

“If you really want to make it up to me, Sungie…” You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, his rock-hard cock trapped between your bodies. “Then I need you to fuck me,” you repeat, punctuating your words with a teasing bite at his collarbone.

His eyes darken, any trace of that desperate look disappearing as he slides his hands to your hips, gripping you hard enough to bruise, and strong enough to flip you over. He pulls your back flush against him, and you shiver at the low growl rumbling from his chest. His fingers dig into your hips, anchoring you in place as he teases, before he finally thrusts in–deep. 

Jisung stays buried deep inside you, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You feel every inch of him, throbbing against your already sensitive walls, his balls pressing against your clit. And then he finally moves—fuck, it's good. Rough, and primal, and everything you both crave.

With each thrust, he hits deeper, his pace building as his frustrations melt into something raw and consuming. You arch your back, pushing into him, feeling his grip tighten. His breaths are hot against your shoulder as he leans down, voice a low whisper in your ear, “Yours.”

And you can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your lips as you gasp out, “Mine.”

“Is that what you wanted?” he murmurs, trailing his hand up your spine, feeling you shudder beneath his touch. “Wanted me to prove that you’re the only girl I think about? Show you that you’re the only one who gets to cum on my cock?”

You nod weakly, barely able to manage a breathy, “Yes.”

Your mind feels hazy, consumed by the way he fills you, the perfect burn and stretch as your body accommodates all of him. And trust, there’s a lot of him.

“Am I doing a good job at it?” he grinds out, pulling you upright so your back presses flush against his chest.

He grips your neck, claiming your lips in a kiss that travels along your shoulders and settles at your throat. He sucks a dark mark into your skin while his hands find your breasts, massaging them as he keeps his rough pace.

“So good,” you manage to say, clenching around him. “Always so good for me, Ji…”

He chuckles, pinching your nipple, causing a tiny yelp to escape your lips. “You never have to be jealous, baby,” he coos, “I only ever want to be good for you.”

You nod in agreement, revelling in the way his hands and cock explore every inch of your body. He knows you so well, and it’s clear from the way you’re panting—he’s always eager to please.

“Show me I’ve been a good boy and cum on my cock, baby,” he demands, but your mind is too foggy to process his words. Everything feels heated and overwhelming; his voice fades into a background hum as he pounds into you relentlessly. You’re too far gone to think about anything but him inside you. 

“Wanna feel you cum, Sungie,” is all you can manage to gasp out.

A low laugh echoes in your ear. “I will,” he promises, sliding one hand down to your belly. “Gonna cum right here and fill you up. But you have to cum first, okay? You always have to cum first.”

You whine and nod, squirming against him for a moment before he pushes you back down onto all fours.

“Good,” he purrs, snapping his hips against you. “I want to feel you cum.”

He’s fucking into you hard enough that the sound of your skin colliding echoes throughout the room—and probably outside too. You cling to the couch, overwhelmed by just how deep he is, tears brimming in your eyes from the intensity, but your body quickly adjusts, demanding more.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on Jisung’s forehead, mirroring the sheen that coats your body, but still, you crave more. You rock back into him, aided by his strong hands, feeling another orgasm building inside you. Jisung doesn’t let up when your movements falter, skillfully manipulating your body even as you start to shudder and whimper, even as your cunt pulses around him. He fucks you through the climax, grunting loudly, slowing just enough to savour the tightness of your walls around his cock.

You’re a puddle beneath him—and he knows it. Not wanting to overwhelm you any further, his thrusts slow down, becoming gentle and deliberate. You realize what he’s about to do; he’s going to pull out and neglect his own orgasm because he cares too much about you. And that’s when his cluelessness starts to kick in because you don't want that. You want—no, need—him to feel just as good as you do. You want him to use you because, just as he is yours, you’re his.

You wrap an arm around to grip his back, pulling his body against yours again. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his brows furrow and his mouth open to protest, but you silence him by pressing a finger to his jaw and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Jisung catches on pretty quickly and his thrusts start again—wicked and rough. 

It’s clear he’s chasing his own climax this time, and you’re just helplessly being dragged along for the ride—but you don’t mind. Your body responds to him instinctively, craving him as pleasure spirals into more pleasure. You gasp for breath, another orgasm stirring within you as his cock swells inside you. 

With a throaty moan that nearly erupts into a roar, Jisung cums, burying himself deep as he spills into you. You shudder quietly, your eyes rolling back and mouth parting in bliss. His weight pins you down, and you sigh happily as he curls his body around you, allowing his cock to keep you full of his cum. It’s territorial and possessive. 

And just as you’re about to get lost in the afterglow with him, there’s a pounding at the door that snaps you both back to reality. You know exactly who it is. Her impatient knocks echo through the small room.

"Jisung! The shoot is about to start! It’s been way more than fifteen minutes!"

Panic jolts through you both. Jisung doesn’t waste a second before he scrambles off you. You quickly reach for your clothes, throwing them on in a rush, not even caring that his cum is dripping out of you. The post-orgasm haze starts to fade, and reality is crashing in—hard.

“Just a second!” Jisung calls, trying to smooth down his hair and fix his shirt. You can see the slight flush on his cheeks as he fumbles, still slightly dazed. 

The door swings open, and the makeup artist strides in, irritation radiating from her. She surveys the scene, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you? Your makeup is a mess! Did you—did she make you cry?” Her gaze lands on you, accusatory. “I can have her removed from set if you—”

Jisung starts to speak up, ready to defend you, but the makeup artist’s eyes dart to the purple bruise blooming on his neck—the very mark you left. You can almost see the realization wash over her as the pieces fall into place.

Her expression shifts from annoyance to a mix of embarrassment and realization. “Oh,” she stammers, the colour draining from her face. “That’s not—” 

You can’t help the smirk that breaks across your face, a sense of triumph washing over you. Jisung doesn’t say anything and settles on rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well…it looks to me like you have a lot of work to do,” you tease, knowingly. 

The makeup artist huffs, visibly flustered. You stroll past her with a giggle, and just before you close the door behind you, you throw out a sarcastic, “Sorry about that.”

Pride bubbles inside you as you walk away. He’s yours, and that mark on his neck proves it.

[vrystalius]

NSFW Alphabet — Kyojuro Rengoku

A NSFW alphabet all about the flame hashira.

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x afab!reader

Thank you so so much @erexart for making this cover art! My first reaction upon seeing this was literally “oh my.” since I opened in the middle of my class XD This is so gorgeous!! Please please go check her out and leave some support, she’s an awesome person!

A = Aftercare (what is he like after sex?)

Kyojuro can’t suppress it. He’s very smile-y and cuddly after a passionate night. His large arms would snake around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His thick fingers would slowly brush over your skin, accidentally tickling you in the process sometimes. His hands are still rough and calloused, even after retirement, but you never minded. In fact, it makes you pleasantly shiver. His face would be glistering in sweat with a couple hairs sticking to his forehead. His eyes would be a little droopy and a lovesick smile would be spread all over his face. His voice would be a little horse and much quieter while whispering praises and love-declarations into your ear, his fingers running through your hair.

Your husband loves taking care of you, so expect to be pampered in all ways that are possible. To him, aftercare is just as important as the sex itself, so Kyojuro’ll gladly wash your body with either warm, damp towels or prepare a soothing bath for you if that’s what you prefer. If you manage to get out of bed right after him making you see the stars and universe, you can spot him in the kitchen by the stove, cooking a simple meal for the both of you to enjoy in bed. If you’re lucky, you get to enjoy the view of your husband’s muscular back, decorated in scratches you left behind in an attempt to hold onto something, anything, while trying to handle his size. Kyojuro doesn’t mind them, quite the opposite. His confidence gets boosted when spotting them in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful, love. The brightest light in my life, so beautiful… you need anything, my flame? I can get you whatever you wish.”

B = Body part (his favourite body part of his and yours)

Kyojuro favours his chest the most. It used to be incredibly muscular, being able to flex the one, then the other in a funny or teasing matter. He especially found your interactions funny, how you poked his soft pecs and tensing them right after you touched them. It makes you giggle a little, so he’d gladly present his naked chest on purpose, so that you can squeeze and poke them as you like. Now, after retirement, he can’t control his muscles as much as he used to, meaning they got even softer. You love to give them a cheeky squeeze or a poke randomly throughout the day. It tickle a little when you do that, so Kyojuro’ll let you do as you please! Even if you give them a squeeze during sex. It surprised him when you do so, but your husband’ll just continue on with movement when you do.

His favourite body part of yours are your eyes and how they sparkle when Kyojuro brings you your favourite dish, or how they glister when you cry. Or, his favourite expression of yours, when they roll back into your skull. You look so drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, you can’t even control your own face anymore- he finds you so cute looking like that.

“Hm? You wanna squeeze my breast? Sure, go ahead! If you like, you can lay your head on them, I think they’re soft enough to be used as pillows! Would you like to try?”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Kyojuro’s incredibly flustered after cumming onto your body, anywhere really. Especially if you swallow it all, that’s when he’s beginning to ascend. He let out one satisfied, deep groan before finishing and staining your beautiful body. His abs and abdomen would be all twitchy, trying to control the overwhelming pleasure of his organism by redirecting the feeling onto other areas of his body.

He’s hesitant to ask, but your husband wants you to squirt onto his face. Kyojuro is curious on what it’d taste like to be honest. He’s eaten you out before and does it almost everytime you two sleep with each other, but you never squirted on his face before. He isn’t actively trying to make you do it, but he really, really wants you to do it. He’s too shy to ask though.

“Y-You make me burn s-so brightly- Ah!-“

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

Something that surprised even himself was how Kyojuro began fantasising about taking you in more public spaces. Not exactly somewhere where people can really see you, but he’s imagining dragging you aside into a secluded area like a forest or just a room inside the residence where the risk of being caught is a little higher. It makes him nervous to think about, taking you while also needing to look out for any other people that may come too close. He would pump his cock into his fist faster and faster while thinking about it…

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Kyojuro was raised well and saved himself for you, his future wife. After making sure you’d agree to marry him and that you are willing and happily ready to sleep with him, he’ll try to do some research beforehand. Your then-boyfriend snuck around his father’s house, but to no one’s surprise, found nothing on anything remotely related to sex or similar. After finding nothing, he moved onto the archives of the demon slayer corps. Of course, there was nothing there either, only scrolls and books on ancient breathing techniques, tactics on how to fight demons and all that stuff. He was hopeless and decided to give up, going in unexperienced and with the hopes to perform well enough to satisfy you.

“My flame, do you think Shinobu keeps some kind of records or books on reproduction?… Why I’m asking? No reason. I-I’m just interested in the biology of it!”

P = Position (his favourite positions)

1. Mating press

That way, he can push himself especially deep inside of you while having your legs rest on his shoulders. Kyojuro especially loved leaning down to you, watching your face heat up and how your eyes roll back. By staying so close, he can closely watch how close you are, how pretty you look like this and how intimate it feels being so close to you.

2. 69

Oh he loves the feeling of making you squirm and shudder above him while you’re struggling to take him with all the stimulation he’s giving you. Kyojuro gets easily lost in your essence, often switching form the 69-position to you just sitting on his face while his own cock is twitching and aching for stimulation, but the way he’s eating you out, you can’t concentrate on anything else but not grinding onto his face for even more stimulation.

G = Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment? Or humorous? etc.)

You know Kyojuro as a rather energised, outgoing and loud individual, but while having your legs rest on his shoulders while his hips thrust deeper and deeper, he hets much more passionate. He’s trying not to be funny, but sometimes he accidentally makes you giggle by not being able to control his hair. If he makes the mistake of not tying it together beforehand, his bright flame like hair will be falling into his face or just fly around everywhere, maybe even tickle your nose by leaning downwards during an particularly pleasurable movement.

“A-Agh, my hair- Apologies my love, can I borrow your hair-tie just for during… this?”

H = Hair (How well-groomed is he?)

Kyojuro doesn’t really like being completely shaven. He prefers keeping it more natural and let his hair grow out a little, but not too much. He trims it regularly and of course washes himself. It’s extremely important to him to stay clean snd healthy, for both you and himself. Colour wise, his pubic hair matches his eyebrows, being very dark, almost black.

Regarding you, Kyojuro does not care if you shave or not, it all tasted the same and makes you sing those pretty moans for him. The most important thing is that you stay clean for him, that’s all.

I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantically.)

It almost surprises you how attentive and intimate your husband can get, even after years of marriage. For him, sex isn’t only about pleasure, but about lovemaking and being attentive to all your needs, physically and mentally. Kyojuro takes his time beforehand to kiss and maybe even flirt with you, as if courting you for the first time ever.

During sex, he would stare at your face during the whole time, covering your skin in kisses and caresses, his hands exploring every inch of your gorgeous body. His moans would consist mostly of whimpering broken praises while his brows furrow together and sweat runs down his skin.

“I love you, I love you, gods!! H-Hah, I love you…”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kyojuro doesn’t masturbate very often, but he does get aroused more often than he’d like to admit. Sometimes, he has to relief that pent up over the weeks. What turns him on the most is your scent. Any clothes of yours or just rolling over in bed onto your side switches something inside his brain. So, he mostly masturbates with the help of something you wore before and gave to him (with your consent of course). It doesn’t matter if it’s panties, shorts or a shirt, having your intoxicating smell near him makes him shudder and cum almost immediately.

One time, you gave him one of your panties for an extremely long mission. You alone just handing it to him so casually almost made him cream his pants.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

1. Praising kink

It goes both ways, but hearing you praise him makes him cum almost immediately mid thrust. Kyojuro’s eyes would go wide and he’d lean down to you, peppering your face in kisses while burying himself deeper within you with a loud moan while thanking you quietly, his large hands squeezing your waist and pulling you closer to himself.

Your husband lives, laughs and loves praising you all day every day, that also means during sex. Seeing you blush just a little boosts his confidence greatly.

2. Exhibition

Kyojuro shudders everytime he thinks about the idea of being caught. Perhaps somebody hears your loud moans or his grunts and comes to investigate, catching you in the act. His heart races a little when thinking about asking you to help him out in the alleyway, looking out left and right to check for anyone coming. He doesn’t want to have a thing for being risky or doing it in semi-public spaces, but your husband just can’t help to fantasise about trying to make you scream louder and louder, risking being caught by a poor and probably afterwards traumatised kakushi.

3. Light Bondage

Kyojuro wants to know that you can fully trust him, and sometimes you can demonstrate it by be willing to be a little restrained. Just some loose ropes around your wrists to keep you from squirming too much. While you can’t escape, your husband, he’ll use the opportunity to its fullest to tease and play around with you by just barely using his fingers on you, instead of eating you out just giving you light kitten-licks or just caressing your body in admiration.

“Louder, m-my flame, please- Gods, I-I wanna hear you.”

L = Location (favourite places to take you)

He’d prefer to take you in your shared bed where it’s the most comfortable, but sometimes, Kyojuro would like to make love to you in the hotsprings. The steamy warmth surrounding you two, your naked body pressing right up against his, it may stir a couple of things within him like the overwhelming desire to mount you right now. The scents, the water, just the moment in general makes the perfect place to make love, don’t you think? Beneath these beautiful stars and admits the rocks and woods surrounding the hot springs…

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going?)

1. Your confidence

Kyojuro is drawn to your enthusiasm and confidence like a moth to a flame- whatever you’re proud of, he’ll be 100% prouder, even if it’s just you managing to flip a pancake by tossing it in the air. Impressive non the less! But seeing you be confident in your own abilities and not needing him for a task makes him feel needed by you. If you don’t need his strength opening that jar of jam, how about Kyojuro satisfies you in other ways?

2. Being close after a long day

Your husband is often cuddly during the evenings of a long day. He still refuses to stop training even after retirement, so he’s still exhausted after a long day. Kyojuro loves to pull you closer and shower you in affections by peppering kisses all over your neck. He smiled against your skin when you squirm under him when he rolls on top of you, pinning you against the bed, his palms cupping your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Darling, can you… uh.. can we cuddle while I put.. myself.. into you? You’re just so warm and I promise you I’ll make you feel good, my flame…”

N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d never degrade or humiliate you, even if you may be into it. Kyojuro fears he might hurt your feelings or make you feel worse about yourself, wich is exact opposite of what he’s trying to do during sex. He’s trying to make love to you, not… degrade you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

Receiving

Kyojuro can barely look at you while you’re sucking him off. His wide eyes would be staring at a random point on the ceiling, his mouth agape and a little drool running down his chin. His hands would be tightly gripping both sides of your head, trying to get even more pleasure from your warm mouth. If you ever dare to tease his tip with your tongue, prepare your face to be covered in his essence in a matter of seconds. He’s extremely sensitive and cums embarrassingly quickly when you pleasure him orally. If you go on your knees while he’s leaning against a wall, Kyojuro would be concentrating on not breaking down with the amount of shaking his thighs are doing.

Giving

He’d rather give than receive any day, you being his absolute favourite dish besides sweet potato and miso soup. Kyojuro’ll drop onto his knees whenever you need him to, willing to take you anywhere at any time. His hands would be tightly wrapping around your legs, pushing them onto his shoulders for support when you’re laying down. Although he prefers it if you sit onto his face, that way he can solely concentrate on eating you and playing with your clit. Sometimes, he’ll try to overstimulate you just to make you squirm and jump away. It makes him grin every time.

“My flame, my love- you taste divine… hah.”

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Kyojuro tries to be slow and sensual, savouring every second of feeling you wrapped around him, how you squeeze and squirm around, but that is also the reason he really can’t be slow and sensual. His waist snap against yours in an incredible speed, chasing his own high while trying so hard to bring you the exact same feeling he’s feeling right now. But when you take control and straddle him instead, your husband loves to watch you struggle taking him in fully and how slowly you’re is moving up and down his shaft- if you decide to be quicker, his hand would quickly slam against the headboard in a desperate attempt to hold onto something while you make him see stars.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies)

Kyojuro enjoys the playful nature of them and how spontaneous they are- you pulling him aside from his task just to seduce him? How perverted.

He enjoys them but doesn’t prefer them over full sessions. Your husband has surprisingly a lot of desire pent-up and is ready to bed you anytime you want, so he always has time for you coming onto him first. It’d feel like a break from a stressful day or a distraction from a particularly boring task— so he enjoys it!

“A-Ah, such a needy wife I-I have.”

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment?)

Yes! Kyojuro likes keeping things spicy in the bedroom by willing to experiment with you- whatever you like, he’s down for it (except humiliation of course)! He also has a thing for semi-public things, so he’d be more than willing to try things out in that department. Overall, if you want to try out spanking, food play, hair play, temperature or just plain vanilla, he’s down for everything! Please, use him for your pleasure! He’s even open to a little more… experimental things.

“P-Pegging? Really? Ahh… I trust you, I do, but… could you give me some time to think about it?”

S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

Kyojuro can and wants to go as many rounds as possible. Even after years of neglecting endurance and stamina training, your husband still has the stamina of some kind of beast. He fights through overstimulation like a soldier, if that means bringing pleasure to you then so be it. He can handle a little sting.

It also takes a while for him to cum in general. It’s not particularly hard for him to cum, he just doesn’t to. Besides, it makes him grin how you whine about already being spend and he has not even finished once.

T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them?)

You two share one rubber dildo. No further comment.

U = Unfair (how much does he tease?)

Given how much Kyojuro enjoys making you squirm and moan, he does like to tease a little. Not to the point of making you beg, but just to make you pout a little. It just turns him on all over again.

Also, he likes to tease you during the day by slipping his hand under your skirt or pants, cupping a feel of your assets before smiling brightly at you like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’ll even slip in a finger or two.

“What’s that look, my flame? I’m just feeling up my wife!”

V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make)

Kyojuro grunts and moans a lot, not shying away from showing how much he’s enjoying himself. Sometimes he might get a little embarrassed by moaning too loudly, so he’d bury his face inside your neck while keeping a steady pace, whining a little at the feeling of you tightening around him. It makes him blush a little hearing the sounds he’s able to produce thanks to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for him)

Kyojuro loves to have cuddly sex with you. Cuddles are already his favourite, so cockwarming him while he holds you close is the closest he can get to the holy gates of heaven. Feeling your warmth around his length makes him almost feel a little droopy, his face buried in your neck while trying to subtly grind his hips against yours to stimulate you as well. His hand would be tightly gripping onto your waist, steadying you while he gently thrusts inside you, not being able to handle just being inside you without moving.

“Can I move a little? I-I promise I’ll be gentle, love… Gods, I love you so so much..”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes…)

He’s physically impressive, just like the rest of him. Kyojuro is well endowed and proportional to his tall, broad and muscular frame. Sometimes he’s nervous about hurting you, but your delightful moans reassure him pretty quickly. His thickness watches his wrist.

His pubic hair is taken care of but he’s not completely clean shaven.

(Again, sorry for this being so short and having no measures. I honestly have no idea XD)

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Your husband’s drive is quite high given his passionate and energised personality, wich only increased after retirement. He will barely act on it though, being insecure about being too needy or too much for you. Instead, he suppresses his desires and waits until you come onto him first. That way he can be sure you really, really want him and are not just acting like you want to have sex just because he is horny.

The downside of him suppressing his lust is that it all comes out once you two have sex; he’ll eat you out, he’ll make you cum twice before even thinking about sliding his length in, and after he does, his hips smack against yours, creating an incredible lewd rhythm and loud moans.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

After a particularly long session, Kyojuro would be spent. He’d doze off almost immediately after making sure you’re okay and he didn’t got too harsh with you. His soft cheek would be pressed up against your arm, his snores vibrating through your whole body. His heavy arm would be draped over your chest. You couldn’t help but smile a little at how his squishy cheeks looked so cute and how cuddly he always got after sex. You can’t help but look forward to cooking together with him in the morning.

🎃

Hope it was worth the wait @akazasfiancee ! <3

Finally got this done! I hope you all enjoyed reading it<3 Again, thank you @erexart for the beautiful cover art, I’m so grateful for you being so patient and kind to be. I’ll be looking forward to seeing more of your gorgeous art!! Please go check her out!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my October event masterlist 🎃

[cumironi]

when you brought home a stray kitten + satosugu

your boyfriends had just gotten back from work, both tired and ready to relax with you. as they walked through the front door, they heard something unexpected—your soft giggles and the sound of you talking to someone. the laughter was warm, genuine, and they immediately knew you were happy, but the confusion set in quickly. you hadn’t mentioned having anyone over today.

they exchanged puzzled looks, silently questioning each other about whether they missed something. suguru raised an eyebrow, his face showing slight concern, while satoru just shrugged, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“did she mention anyone coming over?” geto whispered, trying to recall any part of the conversation earlier in the day that might explain this. “not that i remember,” gojo replied, his voice just as low. “she usually tells us everything, though. let’s go see.”

as they stepped into the room, the sound of your laughter grew louder, filling the air with an infectious joy that made them pause for a moment. your back was facing them as you sat on the couch, your body practically shaking from the intensity of your giggles. it wasn’t just a small chuckle—they could tell you were in a full-blown giggling fit, completely absorbed in whatever was in front of you.

gojo raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, while geto crossed his arms, silently wondering what could possibly have you this entertained without them. they could hear the occasional gasp for breath between your laughter, as if you were trying to calm down but failing miserably.

“she’s really losing it,” gojo whispered to geto, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. he found it amusing how happy you were, but he couldn’t help but wonder what was so funny that it had you in this state.

“let’s see what’s got her in stitches,” geto replied softly, though a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. they moved closer, trying to be quiet as they walked over to see what had you giggling so uncontrollably. as the two jujutsu sorcerers approached, trying to remain unnoticed, they could hear you trying to gasp for air before another small burst of giggles escaped. the two men looked at each other for a second, silently trying to figure out what you could possibly be watching.

finally, they were close enough for them to see over your shoulder, and what they saw made them even more puzzled than before.

”what the hell..” gojo muttered under his breath, his eyes widening slightly.

you had a tiny kitten cradled in your hands, no older than a month, its fur soft and fluffy. the kitten was purring softly as it looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. you turned towards them with a bright smile, finally noticing their presence, your laughter still lingering. “oh,” you said casually, as if realizing they’d just gotten home and had caught you mid-giggle fit.

before either of them could ask what was going on, you lifted the kitten up to their faces, proudly displaying the tiny creature. “baby, meet giggleshitter,” you said with all the giggling once again, your eyes sparkled with mischief. the kitten let out a tiny meow, as if agreeing with you, its little body shifting in your hands.

gojo couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. seeing you holding the tiny, purring kitten with such joy and affection was absolutely adorable, and the idea of you naming it ‘giggleshitter’ only added to the amusement.

“giggleshitter, huh?” he chuckled, clearly amused by the choice. “pretty fitting, honestly.”

gojo seemed mostly entertained, meanwhile, geto’s expression was less playful. he crossed his arms, his frown deepening slightly as he eyed the kitten. he was more cautious when it came to stray animals, especially knowing how much you loved to bring them home. “where did you find it?” he asked, his voice calm but holding a hint of disapproval.

your eyes widened at his question, and in an instant, you let out a small “oh,” realizing you were caught. without thinking, you tried to hide the kitten behind your back, awkwardly shifting on the couch. the kitten let out a soft meow as it nestled against your side, but you acted like you hadn’t heard it, pretending to look away, as if hoping geto wouldn’t press further.

“uh... well...” you stammered, still avoiding eye contact, knowing full well geto wasn’t a fan of you picking up strays and bringing them into the house. the silence between you stretched, and you could feel both their eyes on you, waiting for your answer.

despite your attempt to hide the kitten, it was way too obvious. gojo was already leaning forward to try and see it, amused by the whole situation, while geto's sharp eyes were focused on you, waiting for your response.

he tilted his head questioningly, raising an eyebrow as he took a step closer. “don't tell me you picked up another stray,” he remarked, his voice low. the hint of annoyance in his tone was clear, but he was also trying to remain patient. as you continued to try to avoid their gazes, gojo couldn't resist any longer, and he leaned forward even more, his smirk now full-blown. he was clearly more relaxed about the situation, but he knew that geto wasn't going to let it go that easily.

“come on, admit it,” he teased, a hint of playful mockery in his voice. “you found this little bugger somewhere, didn't you?”

“oh come on. it was really cute and all alone outside.” you defended, looking up at him with pleading eyes as you shifted awkwardly, feeling a no guilt.

geto let out a sigh. as much as he knew you had a soft heart, he couldn’t shake the worry he felt every time you brought another stray animal home. he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a small gesture of frustration. “darling, i told you about bringing a stray animal into the house, right?” he pointed out.

gojo stifled a chuckle, clearly amused by how you were trying to wriggle your way out of the situation. he found your pleading expression undeniably cute, and though he secretly admired your love for animals, he wasn’t about to openly side with you—not with geto already on edge.

“you’re kinda weak against cute things, huh?” he teased, crossing his arms and smirking down at you. it was his usual playful tone, but even he knew when to tread lightly around geto.

geto, however, wasn’t as easily swayed. his expression remained serious, his patience clearly wearing thin as he looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of concern and exasperation. “we’ve discussed this before,” he said firmly, though there was still a gentleness in his voice. he wasn’t angry, just worried about the strays you kept picking up.

you knew he had a point, but that didn’t stop you from pouting in response. with a soft sigh, you placed the kitten gently in your lap, your fingers lightly brushing its fur as it snuggled up to your hand. watching its tiny body curl into you, you couldn’t help but murmur, “i know... but still...” your voice trailed off, filled with soft affection as you stroked the kitten, already too attached to let go.

you glanced up at geto with wide, hopeful eyes, hoping he’d see how much you cared. “look at him, suguru... he’s so small, and i couldn’t just leave him there. he needs someone...” your voice was soft, almost a whisper, as you tried to sway him, your pout growing more pronounced.

as you petted the kitten, gojo's smirk grew wider. he could see how attached you were to the little creature, and he found it strangely endearing. he almost thought about backing you up, but he knew better than to get in the middle of you and geto.

geto's expression remained stoic, but the hint of a frown on his face revealed his struggle. he hated seeing you so attached to the cat, but seeing you pouting, knowing how much you cared, was making it hard for him to stay firm. he let out a deep sigh, his resolve wavering just a little.

“baby doll,” he said, his voice still firm yet tender. he tried to keep a stern face, but it was obvious that your pleading was slowly wearing him down. “you know we can't keep every stray you find, right?” he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on yours as he tried to reason with you. it was hard for him to stay stern when you looked at him like that, but he was trying his best to be the voice of reason.

as geto stepped closer, trying to keep his voice steady and firm, you felt your pout deepen. you continued to pet the kitten gently, your fingers brushing over its tiny head as it purred contently in your lap. you knew he had a point, you really did—but the way the kitten nuzzled into your hand, so small and helpless, made it impossible for you to give up.

you didn’t look at him right away, letting the silence linger for a second. your pout grew even more exaggerated, and when you finally glanced up at him with wide, pleading eyes, you let out a soft, almost pitiful sigh. “just this one,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with all the tenderness you could muster.

you paused for a moment, and then, as if to emphasize your point, you lifted the kitten slightly, holding it up so geto could see its tiny face up close. “look at him, suguru... he’s just a baby.”

the kitten let out a small meow, as if it knew you were pleading its case. your lower lip quivered slightly as you gave him your best pleading look, the kind that always seemed to make him waver.

“please,” you added softly, your voice carrying a hint of desperation. “just this one. i promise i’ll take care of him. you won’t even have to lift a finger. he’ll be no trouble at all.”

gojo watched the two of you intently, quietly witnessing the exchange. he could practically see the internal struggle written all over geto’s face. he knew the look in your eyes, the pleading tone in your voice, and the effect it was having on their boyfriend.

geto let out a defeated sigh, his stern expression slowly giving way to a mix of resignation and care. his eyes softened, gaze fixated on the tiny kitten in your hands, meowing gently. he tried to remain firm, he really did, but he was helpless against your charms.

“dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “i..” he paused, letting out a sigh that was a mix of frustration and affection. he knew he was weakening, that he was slowly giving in to your pleading. but then the kitten let out another small, innocent meow, and geto could feel his resistance crumbling away.

“fine,” he finally relented, his voice quieter than before. “we’ll keep the damn thing... for now. but this is it, you hear me? no more strays after this one.”

as soon as the words left geto’s mouth, your pout vanished in an instant, replaced by a bright, wide grin that lit up your whole face. you couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling up inside you, and you nodded eagerly, your hands still gently cradling the kitten.

“thank you, suguru!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with joy and relief. your smile was so wide it almost hurt, and without thinking, you leaned forward, giving him a quick but affectionate kiss on the cheek.

the kitten, as if sensing your happiness, let out another tiny meow, snuggling into your hands even more. you looked down at it and then back up at geto, your grin only growing. “you’re the best,” you added softly, your eyes sparkling with gratitude.

geto's expression softened even more as you kissed his cheek. despite his initial resistance, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and satisfaction at seeing how happy you were. he knew he’d be kicking himself later for giving in so easily, but seeing your grin, hearing your excitement, he knew he could never truly say no to you.

he rolled his eyes in a playful manner, pretending to be annoyed by your affection. “yeah, yeah,” he said, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “just remember, no more strays after this one.”

he gave your forehead a gentle kiss, the gesture affectionate and tender. despite his earlier protests, the sight of your happiness softened him even more. “you make it so damn impossible to say no to you,” he muttered, his voice soft and affectionate.

[cutielando]

Hiii I'm kinda nervous cuz I'm still kinda new to requesting stuff! Could you maybe do like female!reader x Oscar Piastri where r is not English but knows it fluently but when it comes to talking in it she stutters and stuff cuz she's shy but wants to say things good like she does in her head and maybe Oscar comforts her or teaches her to say them easier myb??? Idk if you understood my request, hope you did.. write it if you fell comfortable with it!! 🤎🤎

language troubles | o.p.

synopsis: in which you find it difficult speaking English

my masterlist

Oscar loved the way you talked.

Especially your accent whenever you spoke English.

It wasn't your native language, you had learned it your whole life as a second language, so you still had some troubles when it came to pronouncing certain words and expressing yourself.

When you met Oscar, the whole dynamic between you two was very funny and awkward at first due to his accent and the differences between Australians and other English-speaking countries.

It was especially endearing to both of you whenever he would use certain Australia-specific words, which you would have no idea what they meant, and watching your cute scrunched up face made Oscar's heart swell even more in his chest.

In contrast to Oscar's endearment of your little pronunciation problem, you were embarrassed every time you wouldn't be able to say a certain word.

You found that you struggle most with talking in English right when you wake up. It takes a while for you to function in the mornings, so you always need a little time before things get going in your brain.

That's also Oscar's favorite time with you, mainly because he loves the way you stutter because of how tired you are.

It was currently 8 in the morning and you had woken up purely by accident, therefore ruining your sleep. Oscar was still sleeping when you walked out of the bedroom silently, but it wasn’t long before his steps slowly walked towards the kitchen where you stood, his tired eyes taking in your figure immediately.

“Morning” he murmured, kissing the top of your head once he was close enough.

“Hey” you smiles tiredly at him, leaning against his warm body.

“What are you doing?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your shivering body.

“I’m waiting for the kapushino machine to finish my drink” you said, not even realizing what you had said.

“What machine now?” Oscar asked you, trying to suppress the laughter threatening to escape his lips.

“The kapushino machine” you repeated, confused and unaware still.

Oscar couldn’t help now but chuckle, making you look up at him as you felt his chest vibrate against your cheek.

“It’s cappuccino, babe” he corrected you, making you furrow your eyebrows.

Slowly, realization started spreading out all over your face, making your cheeks pink up in embarrassment.

You hid your face into Oscar’s chest as he laughed softly, rubbing your back in soothing manners.

“I can’t believe I just mispronounced cappuccino” you groaned, making Oscar pout at how cute you were.

"That's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed about it" he cooed, kissing the top of your head just before the coffee machine finished brewing the fresh pot.

You threw your head back as you stepped away from Oscar's hold, filling your mug and taking a sip of the hot beverage.

Oscar was used to correcting you whenever you would fail to pronounce things correctly, it was something you secretly loved about him.

He never made fun of you, never made jokes about the fact that you sometimes struggled to speak the language, he just accepted you for who you were, helping you along the way as best as he could.

That was one of the many reasons why you loved him.

Even if it sometimes got annoying for the both of you.

♡♡♡♡♡

Another cute moment like this happened at dinner with his family after the Australian Grand Prix.

You were fairly new to the whole world of Formula 1 and frankly, you were still a foreign when it came to Australian culture.

Oscar’s family always did their best to help you adapt more and more with each visit there, especially his mother and sisters.

You spent a lot of time on Twitter, it was a very bad habit for you, but you were very confused when tweets about your boyfriend being a serial killer popped up on your page.

Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at the posts confused. Oscar came into the room in the middle of your deep dive, stopping when he saw how focused you were on your phone.

“Babe? Everything alright?” he asked, watching you jump up and look up at him.

You hadn’t even realized he had come into the room, that’s how distracted you were.

“Why is everyone on Twitter saying you’re a mureder?” you asked with a frown on your face.

Oscar tried to contain his laughter when he heard you trying to pronounce the word murderer, but he figured laughing in the current situation was not the best idea.

“Who’s saying that?” he asked, indulging you as he slowly walked and sat down next to you on the couch.

“There’s a bunch of people who made a thread on Twitter saying you’re a mureder and that you killed people” you urgently explained, showing him your phone.

He took the phone from your hands, barely glancing at what you were reading before he gave it back to you.

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek in his hand, smiling at your still distressed face.

“They’re confusing me with someone else, Oscar Pistorius. I’m not a murderer” Oscar explained, putting an emphasis on the word murderer.

You nodded silently, taking in his words. When you noticed the smile with which Oscar was looking at you, you slowly realized that, most probably, you had just had another fail when dealing with the wonderful English language.

Smiling sheepishly, you buried your head into his shoulder as he chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you close to his chest.

"English gives up on me when I least expect it" you complained, getting more comfortable in your boyfriend's hold.

"You just have an on-and-off relationship, pretty toxic if you're asking me" he joked, making you laugh out loud.

Oscar always knew how to make you feel better, especially after some fails which would leave you embarrassed in front of him. He was sweet like that.

Even when your own brain and language failed you, Oscar never did.

You'd conquer English one day.

Oscar would make sure of that.

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[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[c0ffeejelly1]

You can’t just say things like that!..

-Bros the type of guy to hug you from behind and whisper that one soft sorry in your ear (ESPECIALLY WITH THE WHOLE ‘sorry baby..’ AGRHHH)

Cw: none.

* You were really ticked off at him.

* You knew he was fully aware of his mistake, so why was he pretending he didn’t have a clue?

* His attempt to play innocent just made you even angrier. He was clearly in the wrong.. he had to have been aware of that.

* And to think he had the audacity, the nerve to lounge on the couch with that sour expression, eyebrows knitted together, staring off like he was the one suffering? Ha!

* It just made you chop the vegetables you were going to cook even harder with the knife.

* It was pathetic. You could only think to laugh mockingly at the scene.

* …Seriously. was this his way of trying to gaslight you?

* As if that was going to work.

* You were way above that.

* You knew better than that.

* That was until you heard the creaking of floorboards and soft footsteps behind you.

* It was funny how he could seem so small despite his size…

* But still you totally played it cool and ignored him.

* Until you felt the soft embrace of arms wrapping around your waist, his chin sat in the crest between your neck and shoulder, and slow breathes tickling your ear each time his chest would rise and fall.

* For a brief moment, you felt a wave of tension wash over you, but you quickly shook it off, determined to seem unfazed.

* You were meant to be upset with him.

* …Yet, the way he held you so tenderly, as if you were his most treasured possession, made you want to both punch and kiss that infuriating face of his.

* You feel him sigh deeply his nose brushing against your shoulder before pressing light kisses to the skin.

* Was he trying to seduce you?

* Didn’t he realize how angry you were? You were practically seething!.. right? At least you think you were.

* once again though, you found yourself tensing when he whispered something that could make any woman weak in the knees..

* “..I’m sorry baby..”

* Lord have mercy.

* You turned to face him, finally getting a clear view of his face, causing him to pull his hands away from your waist and shove them into his sweatpants pockets.

* You couldn’t help but gulp a little at the adorable, puppy-like look he had; it really suited his handsome features…

* But you had to keep your cool.

* So, you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes before asking…

* “Sorry for what exactly?…”

* You wanted to hear him say it.

* Otherwise what was the purpose of even apologising?

* He only looked at you with a small pout on his face before placing both his hands gently on your cheek, a new sense of determination shining in his eyes even with his now flustered face.

* “What are you-..”

* He unexpectedly cut you off, catching you by surprise as his lips met yours

* You didn’t know how to react at first, but it was clear that the kiss was short because once he pulled back, the significance of the moment hit you.

* He gently brushed your lips, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a dusty pink scattered on his cheeks, before he spoke again.

* “..Everything..? I dunno…please just forgive me…”

* At this stage, did it even matter?

* If you were going to be honest with yourself, you had already moved on…

* Yet, watching him be all sweet and eager for your forgiveness? …It totally tugged at your heartstrings.

* A small grin appeared on your face before you leaned in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment enveloping you like a soft blanket.

* You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, searching for the same warmth reflected in his gaze.

* “If I’m being honest...I’m not really mad at you anymore.”

* The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, mirroring your own, as you felt another flutter in your chest before he wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your fragrance, pulling you into another embrace.

* He felt a wave of relief knowing you had forgiven him..

* Still, one thought kept nagging at him.

* “Hey..babe?”

* “Mm?”

* “So…why were you really angry to begin with?”

* “You mean you really don’t know?”

* You lean back a bit from the hug a small pout on your face, your hands resting on his chest while his arms stayed snug around your waist.

* “You ate the remaining takeout I was saving for myself..”

* “..seriously.”

Characters I had in mind while writing this:

REIGEN (mob psycho 100)

Saitama (one punch man)

Josuke (JOJO’S bizarre adventure)

Kagami, KISE (kuroko’s basketball)

AREN (the disastrous life of saiki k)

HINATA, BOKUTO, Kageyama, OIKAWA, Ukai, Dachi, Atsumu, Lev (haikyuu)

YUJI, choso (jujustu kaisen)

REINER, Eren, Jean (Attack on titan)

LEORIO (hunterXhunter)

- any character you would like