#but i really like when something is solid and fits in your hand in such a way that you can use it as an improvised weapon

[mehtallee]

The Tutor

I never imagined my first real experiment would be with Aiden Cruz.

A guy like him—intimidating at first glance, but surprisingly polite—wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I developed the serum. I always thought my first test subject would be some random thug, someone who deserved to have their mind turned into useless mush.

But Aiden? He was different And that’s exactly why I chose him.

It started with a simple tutoring gig. I was a nerdy college student just looking for a side hustle. Science was my thing, and I didn’t mind helping students out for extra cash, especially if they were willing to pay well.

Aiden was a criminology major, and he wasn’t exactly failing, but he needed help with his research paper. The guy was always in the gym, always training, always moving. He wasn’t the type to sit down and write for hours.

So when he found out I was available, he sent me a message.

“Bro, you do tutoring? Need help with this damn research paper. Got cash, just name your price.”

His messages were always short and to the point—just like what you'd expect him to be

That’s when I had the idea.

See, I’d been working on something—a neurological erasure serum. A drug designed to turn a person’s brain into a useless pile of goo while keeping their body fully functional. It started as a theoretical experiment, but curiosity got the best of me. I had finally perfected it.

But I needed a real test subject. Someone strong. Durable.

And Aiden?

He was perfect.

I told him I’d help, but I preferred tutoring at my place; quieter, fewer distractions. Aiden, being the chill guy he was, didn’t even question it.

“Cool, bro. I’ll swing by later.”

That was it. No hesitation. No suspicion.

I prepared everything—set up my laptop, cleaned my desk, and most importantly… spiked his protein shake.

Aiden was a fitness freak. I knew he wouldn’t turn down a supplement boost, so I made it look real—a proper protein mix, just laced with my serum.

When Aiden stepped into my place, I was immediately reminded of how casual yet intimidating he was.

He wore a simple sleeveless shirt and a jacket, thick enough to hint at the muscle underneath. But from a distance, he looked like a typical lean college guy, but up close?

You could tell.

he removed his jacket for his comfort, revealing his muscled arms. His arms were solid, veins lightly visible beneath his skin. His chest pushed against the fabric, and when he moved, his muscles shifted slightly, hinting at power.

He dropped his bag on my floor, glancing around. “Yo, nice place.”

I swallowed. “Uh, thanks.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down, stretching his arms with a sigh. “So, where do we start?”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, you said you’re working on a criminology research paper?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his head. “Shit’s boring as hell, bro. I’d rather be working out.”

I chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, I figured…”

We actually worked for a while. A couple of hours, even. I helped him structure his arguments, fix up citations, and even explained some of the theories he barely paid attention to in class.

At first, Aiden was restless. His knee bounced under the table, his fingers drummed against his notebook, and he sighed a lot.

But over time, he got into it.

I caught him nodding along, genuinely thinking about what I was saying. It was weird seeing him so focused.

At some point, Aiden leaned back, stretching his arms over his head with a grunt. “Damn, bro… it’s hot as hell in here.”

I blinked. “Uh, is it?”

Aiden fanned himself with his hand. “Shit, man, I dunno if it’s just me, but I’m sweating.”

I hadn’t really noticed—until he pointed it out. There was a sheen of sweat on his arms, making his skin glisten slightly.

Then, without hesitation, Aiden grabbed the hem of his compression shirt and pulled it off.

I swear, for a second, my brain just stopped working.

His torso was… something else.

Lean, yet solid. His pecs were well-defined, his abs sculpted, and his skin smooth except for a light dusting of hair near his lower abdomen.

He sighed in relief, tossing the shirt onto the back of his chair. “Much better.”

I forced myself to look away. “Uh, yeah. I guess it’s a little warm…”

Aiden stretched his arms again, then smirked. “Bet you don’t sweat much, huh? No offense, bro, but you look like you avoid the gym like the plague.”

I laughed nervously. “Y-Yeah, uh… working out isn’t really my thing.”

He grinned. “Man, you should try it. Bet you’d get some gains if you actually trained.”

That’s when the idea hit me.

I hesitated, then casually said, “Actually, I’ve been working on something. A… uh, smart supplement.”

Aiden raised a brow. “Smart supplement?”

I nodded quickly. “Yeah! It’s, uh… a performance enhancer. Helps with muscle recovery and, you know… focus.”

He hummed, thinking. “That so?”

I pulled out the protein shake, heart racing. “Wanna try it?”

Aiden gave it a skeptical look. “You made this?”

“Yeah! It’s just, um… experimental.”

Aiden snorted. “Bro, you tryna turn me into some test monkey?”

I chuckled awkwardly. “N-No! I mean, well, sort of… but not in a bad way! Just, you know, feedback and stuff.”

He sighed, then shrugged. “Eh, screw it. Why not?”

I held my breath as he grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a long sip.

At first, nothing happened.

He smacked his lips. “Tastes… kinda weird.”

Then, slowly, his expression changed.

Aiden blinked.

His fingers twitched.

His broad shoulders stiffened.

His breathing hitched.

“Yo…” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Why’s my head feel heavy…?”

I said nothing.

He exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Bro, this shit hittin’ weird. What was in that?”

His words slurred.

His muscles twitched.

Then, before he could say another word—

His body seized.

Aiden jerked violently, knocking over his chair as he collapsed onto his knees. His hands clawed at his head, his breath turning ragged.

I backed away, eyes wide.

“It’s working…” I whispered.

A deep, wet gurgle left Aiden’s throat. His body convulsed, arms locking up in unnatural positions. Veins bulged, sweat dripping down his temples.

Then came the drool.

Thick, viscous strands leaked from his mouth, trailing down his chin. His lips trembled, his eyes rolling back as his body shook violently.

Then—

The goo.

A dark, gelatinous substance seeped from his ears, trailing down his jaw. His brain; his thoughts, his memories, his intelligence; was melting.

I clutched my chest, my breath shallow. Then Aiden twitched one last time before suddenly going still.

The moment Aiden’s body finally stopped convulsing, the room fell into an eerie silence. His muscular form lay sprawled out on the floor, his limbs twitching slightly as the last remnants of his former self faded away. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, his mouth slightly open with a thin trail of drool running down his cheek. The air was thick with a mix of sweat and something darker, something almost unnatural. My heart was still hammering in my chest, but as I took a shaky step toward him, a slow realization settled in—Aiden was mine now.

"Aiden…?" I murmured, kneeling beside him. No response, of course. His head lolled slightly, his lips parting as a low, guttural moan escaped. I watched in fascination, gently nudging his jaw up with my fingers. He was still warm, still breathing, but there was nothing behind those eyes. A shell. A body with no mind. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for his cheek, pressing against the firm flesh. He felt… real, solid, human. And yet, he wasn’t anymore.

I let out a breath, a mix of exhilaration and unease. "Alright, big guy. Let’s see if you can still move," I whispered to myself, grabbing his broad shoulders and shifting him upright. His muscles were stiff, resisting at first before going slack again. I adjusted my grip, sliding my hands down to his arms and lifting them up, forcing his entire body to follow. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pulled him into a standing position, his legs locking into place like a mannequin being propped up. His head bobbed forward, his lips parting as another sluggish moan slipped from his throat. "Nnngh… uhhn…"

I smirked. "Looks like you still got some sounds in you, huh?" I murmured, tilting his head side to side, watching how his body simply followed my guidance. No resistance. No understanding. Just pure, empty obedience.

I let my fingers trail over Aiden’s thick biceps, feeling the solid muscle beneath my touch. A chuckle escaped me as I pressed into the firmness, kneading and prodding at his arms like examining freshly sculpted marble. "You’re so stiff now… not like before," I murmured, running my hand down to his forearm, then back up to his delts. His muscles barely reacted, holding their shape without any sign of resistance or tension from within.

Aiden’s head wobbled slightly, his lips parting as another sluggish grunt rumbled from his throat. "Uhhhn… huhhh…" His eyes remained blank, completely uncomprehending of what was happening to him.

I pressed a finger into the center of his chest, feeling the warm, sweat-slicked flesh give slightly before bouncing back into place. "Damn, Aiden. You’re really just… nothing now?" I mused, squeezing at his pecs before running my fingers down his firm abdomen. He didn’t react, didn’t shift or acknowledge the attention. His body was there, but Aiden... the person he had been was long gone.

"Nnngh… huhhh…" he exhaled, his chest subtly rising and falling. His fingers twitched faintly at his sides, as though attempting to process the new posture, but no recognition flickered in his vacant eyes.

"Good boy," I murmured, admiring how effortlessly he stood now, completely under my guidance.

"Nngh… uhh…" His lips twitched as another sound rumbled from his throat, a low, clueless grunt. He blinked sluggishly, like his body was just now registering the concept of standing. I chuckled, patting his solid chest. "Now, let’s see how flexible you still are."

I took a step back, admiring how his muscles remained tense, as if locked in place. Slowly, I reached out and grasped his wrist, lifting his arm over his head. His bicep flexed naturally with the movement, the thick muscle taut beneath my fingertips. He made no attempt to resist or even acknowledge the action, only grunting softly as his arm moved. "Mmh… huhh…"

I smirked, giving his bicep a firm squeeze. "Damn, you’re really solid," I muttered, rubbing my fingers along the defined curve of his muscle. I leaned in, inhaling deeply against his exposed underarm. The scent hit me instantly—thick, masculine, heady with sweat. A shiver ran down my spine. "Hah… you smell strong, Aiden. Real strong." I murmured against his skin before dragging my tongue experimentally across the damp flesh. Salty. Musky. Perfect.

Aiden gave another mindless groan, his chest subtly rising and falling as I continued exploring his unresisting form. I trailed my hands down his torso, fingers mapping over every dip and ridge of his sculpted abs. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, his skin slick with the remnants of his former effort. My palms glided down to his waist, then back up to his pecs, tracing slow circles around the hardened muscle. Then, with deliberate slowness, my hands drifted lower, sliding down his abdomen, tracing the deep grooves leading toward his shorts. I pressed my palm against the bulge beneath, feeling the weight and heat radiating through the fabric. Aiden let out a sluggish moan, his hips shifting slightly in response to the touch.

"Mmmh… uhhn…" he exhaled, his fingers twitching faintly.

I chuckled, squeezing gently. "That’s a good boy," I murmured, my fingers grazing over the taut fabric of his crotch, testing his responsiveness. His body remained slack, obedient, a sculpted machine waiting for my guidance.

"Tell me, Aiden," I whispered, my fingers pressing firmly against the thick bulge beneath his shorts. "Who owns you now?" I traced slow, deliberate circles over the fabric, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

"Hnnnh… uhhn…" Aiden groaned, his lips parting as he tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out.

"That’s right," I murmured, leaning in close, my breath ghosting over his sweat-slicked skin. "You're mine. Completely mine. Say it. Say who owns you."

"Uhhn… y-you…" Aiden’s voice was weak, broken, the last remnants of his former self dissolving beneath my touch.

I smirked, dragging my fingers up his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles flexed instinctively under my control. "Good boy."

"Mmmh…" Aiden hummed blankly, his fingers twitching slightly as his arms dangled at his sides.

"Let’s get you to pose a little," I mused, grabbing his wrists and guiding his arms into a flexed position. His biceps bulged as I positioned them, his forearms coiling with dense muscle. His broad chest pushed outward, every inch of him sculpted into a perfect display of strength. His lips parted as a low, breathy moan escaped him.

"Uhhn…"

"Yeah, that’s it. Hold that for me." I stepped back, tilting my head as I examined him like an artist inspecting a sculpture. He was perfect. The raw definition of muscle, a body chiseled into peak form—and now completely under my control.

I reached forward again, pressing my fingers against his abdomen, feeling the tautness of his core. I leaned in once more, dragging my tongue along the edge of his obliques, tasting the salt and heat of his sweat. "So good…" I breathed, savoring every inch of my new creation.

Aiden let out another grunt, his muscles twitching slightly under my touch. He didn’t understand what was happening—he didn’t understand anything anymore. He was simply reacting to stimuli, a blank slate for me to shape and command.

"I let my fingers trace his rigid muscles, savoring the way his body barely responded beyond a sluggish twitch. "Tell me, Aiden," I whispered, my hands pressing firmly over his broad chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath. "Who owns you again?"

"Uhhn… y-you…" Aiden groaned, his voice fragile, struggling to shape the words.

"That's right!" I smirked, trailing my hands down his abdomen, teasing along the sculpted ridges of his core. "You're mine. Forever. No more criminology, no more research. Just this. Just you, staying right here, as my perfect, obedient plaything. And tonight… tonight, we’re going to do something wild."

I grinned, stepping back to admire my masterpiece. His empty eyes stared ahead, waiting, unthinking.

============================

I woke up to the warmth of Aiden’s body beside me, his steady, rhythmic breathing filling the quiet room. A slow smile curled on my lips as I turned onto my side, drinking in the sight of my sleeping toy. His powerful chest rose and fell, his muscles relaxed, his expression blank and peaceful. It was real. He was real. And more importantly—he was mine.

The weight of my accomplishment settled in my chest, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through me. My little experiment had worked flawlessly, and now, Aiden was completely under my control. No thoughts, no resistance; just pure, obedient muscle, waiting for my every command. As I ran a hand over his thick arm, squeezing the bicep that I would soon make even bulkier, a deep sense of responsibility mixed with excitement settled in. Taking care of him, training him, growing him into the ultimate plaything—it was all up to me now. And I was more than ready to embrace it.

[amateurvoltaire]

Take the A87 towards Cholet-Nouaille, and just off the highway, literally off the highway, behind a thin line of trees, there’s a place. A strange, quiet, easily-missed place. A special place.

And I don’t call it special lightly.

If you're passionate about history there will be things that move you. Not because they’re beautiful, or grand, or even important, but because they are real. Tangible proof that the past happened. That it wasn’t just an idea.

An old document, a dress behind glass, a battlefield, a face in a portrait; things you’ve seen a hundred times in books. And then, suddenly, they’re right there in front of you. Not just real, but solid, undeniable. And for a moment, something shifts. Awe, maybe. Recognition. The past reaches out.

Still, very few places or objects truly move me. Very few. And when they do, it's almost always because of the weight of the event; not the person.

The cenotaph (1) of Henri de La Rochejaquelein is one of those rare exceptions.

The General of the Catholic and Royal Army

If this is your first time here, or if the Vendée means nothing to you yet, Henri de La Rochejaquelein was a French royalist officer and one of the central figures in the First War in the Vendée.

He was born into nobility and, at an age when most people are still figuring out how to be adults, he was handed command of the Catholic and Royal Army. He led a doomed campaign against the Republican government, La Virée de Galerne, that ended, predictably, in disaster.

He was brave. He was audacious. He was competent.

In the grand historical narrative of the French Revolution, he barely registers. A campaign that collapsed on itself, a boy who didn’t make it past 21.

Today, he’s mostly remembered for a striking posthumous portrait, a dramatic quote ("If I advance, follow me; if I retreat, kill me; if I die, avenge me") and, less admirably, for being occasionally dragged out by the French far-right for some highly questionable rhetoric (2). 

I won’t pretend to be objective. I like his story...

...probably because I have a thing for lost causes, and the people foolish enough to die for them.

An Expedition

Last August, the family and I went to the Vendée (3), mostly for the seafood, which really is excellent in western France, and partly because we’d never been. Naturally, I had plans to visit a few key sites relevant to the Vendée War narrative: the Memorial, the Museum of Cholet, some monuments here and there. How could I not?

I’d just finished Messieurs de La Rochejaquelein by Jean de La Tousche, so La Durbelière (3) was already on the schedule. The cenotaph, though, that was an afterthought. Google said it was close to Cholet, so I mentioned it casually to my husband.

He agreed without a second thought.

The poor, lovely man married me six years ago under Marianne’s unblinking stare, without understanding a word of what Monsieur le Maire was saying (he still doesn’t speak French), and now endures these historical detours like they’re part of the marriage contract (4).

He agreed. He has no interest in history. None in the French Revolution. NBut he agreed.

So the next day, we stopped. Right in the middle of the highway.

I wish I were exaggerating. I’m not. The cenotaph isn’t conveniently located in a nicely manicured park, cemetery, or church garden. It’s just there…off the road, behind some of trees.

Strange, but fitting. Henri de La Rochejaquelein was shot during a raid by a Republican soldier he’d just spared. They buried him where he fell.

Marshland in January 1794. Highway in 2024.

I left the kids and the husband in the car, parked on a sliver of gravel, hopped a roadside barrier, and randomly and wandered into the grass. And then, without warning, there it was: a white cross in a pocket of trees.

You don’t see it at first. Then suddenly you do. A white shape against the green. Still. Out of place. Strange.

And quiet. Properly quiet. Despite the road, the cars, everything…just quiet.

A strange, suspended sort of place. A place where time folds in. A place where a boy sleeps.

I don’t read much poetry. I rarely have the patience to. But standing there, I thought of Rimbaud’s Le Dormeur du val (5):

C’est un trou de verdure où chante une rivière Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons D'argent ; où le soleil, de la montagne fière, Luit : c'est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.

Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tête nue, Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu, Dort ; il est étendu dans l'herbe, sous la nue, Pâle dans son lit vert où la lumière pleut.

Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort. Souriant comme Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme : Nature, berce-le chaudement : il a froid.

Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine ; Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au côté droit.

The boy in the grass. Mouth open. Two red holes in his side. Nature warm around him, indifferent.

What’s left behind

Roughly 500 metres from this cross, on a grey, pointless January day, a boy of 21, (a general, maybe, but still a boy… a boy with a title), looked at a man holding a musket and saw a human being. He didn’t shoot.

The other one did.

It was fast. No resistance, no warning. Just a shot and the ground.

The few who still followed him cried for a moment, then desfigured his face so the Republicans wouldn’t know it was him. Then they stripped him, laid him in the mud next to his killer, and planted a wooden cross over the mess.

And that was it. No drama. No brave last words. No real sense of an ending.

A life cut clean, right before it truly began. One more failed campaign. One more boy dead.

He was buried in a marsh . The marsh turned into a path, then a road, now a highway. There’s probably a metaphor there. Something clever. Something vague.  Something about history being flattened, repurposed, forgotten. Boys still die in fields. Now we just drive past faster.

I’ll let you find the metaphor and make do what you will of it.

The boy isn’t there anymore. In 1816, they moved him to the family chapel, lined him up beside his brothers. But this place, the grass, the traffic, the emptiness, feels truer.

This is where it ended. This is where he stopped being anything at all.

Notes

(1) A cenotaph is an empty tomb or monument erected in honour of a person whose remains are elsewhere.

(2) In fairness, it's not exclusively La Rochejaquelein far-right groups exploit the entire Vendée conflict, its leaders, and its history. It’s messy and complicated; I'll explain it properly sometime.

(3) When referring to the Vendée, I mean the historical Vendée Militaire—the region involved in the 1793 civil war—not strictly the contemporary Vendée department. The Vendée Militaire includes areas from modern-day departments such as Vendée (obviously), southern Loire-Inférieure, southwestern Maine-et-Loire, and part of Deux-Sèvres. This particular spot is in Deux-Sèvres.

(3) La Durbelière was the château belonging to the La Rochejaquelein family in Saint-Aubin-de-Baubigné, Deux-Sèvres, largely destroyed during the Vendée War.

(4) I often tell myself he tolerates my eccentricities because he had no idea what the mayor said during our wedding ceremony. Either that or he's a glutton for punishment...

(5) One of France’s most celebrated poems, widely translated, and known as "The Sleeper in the Valley" in English. A rough translation of the poem is: It’s a green hollow where a river sings, Clutching madly at the grasses with silver rags; Where the sun shines down from the proud mountain— A little valley foaming with light.

A young soldier, mouth open, head bare, His neck resting in the cool blue watercress, Sleeps. He lies stretched in the grass, under the sky, Pale in his green bed, where the light rains down.

Feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling, As a sick child might smile—he’s taking a nap. Nature, cradle him gently: he is cold.

Scents no longer stir his nostrils; He sleeps in the sun, hand on his chest— Peacefully. He has two red holes in his right side.

[hardlightvoid]

They decanted #23 today. It was rough to watch: they always cry like an infant when they open their eyes. That first breath, a harsh sucking gasp, before the world comes into focus. The technicians bearing down on them. Whole process doesn’t take more than twenty minutes from decanting to vivisection. I mean, they’re sedated, but still. My tank’s at the inner edge of the ring so I get a good view of the whole thing. I don’t like it. Whoever my original is, they’re not a fan of blood.

Doctor Kynes comes and sits with me afterwards. She was the first person I saw when I opened my eyes in the tank, a stocky woman with a tight blonde ponytail and flat grey eyes. She folds herself criss-cross applesauce and rests the side of her head against my tank. I watch the lights play over her hair: blue, green, teal.

“Hey, 45,” she says. “Rough one today, huh?”

Yes. They took liver, lungs, kidneys, and spleen from #23 and the sedation did not hold all the way through. Tends to happen with the redheads for some reason, and the lab’s on a budget, so there’s only a certain amount of anaesthetic allotted.

“Car crash. Pulped the original quite badly. The doctors can’t even tell if the organs will take, but the family requested it.” She sighs. “Too much money, too little sense. Not like yours, hmm?” She knocks gently against the glass with her knuckles. “No. You’re a special case.”

I know. She tells me all the time. I focus very, very hard, and succeed in twitching my fingertips. Kynes glances up to the screen that displays my vitals. “Hey, knock that off. I don’t want to decant you early.”

It’s a solid threat. I still again, letting the slow rhythm of the fluids in my tank move me. The fresh liquids enter through a slim hole at the top and exit down the chute at the bottom, the same chute I’d exit through if I needed decanting. It’s got the same chilling effect as the door to the lab, which is situated somewhere behind me and beeps with every opening or closing. Kynes taps my tank again. “Your original’s doing fine. Don’t worry.”

Then she leaves, which happens every night, although she tends to be the last to go. I know her better than any of the other technicians. Kynes handles tanks #40 through #50 and in her three years here she’s not had a single copy fail, which is what they call it when a clone dies. I’m glad she’s looking after me. Doctor Thomas, who monitors #10 to #20, has four copy fails in six years. I’ve seen him work. He’s sloppy. Doesn’t watch the gas mix and doesn’t fit the masks right on the baby copies, so they end up breathing in too much oxygen or too little, and when they’re decanted they just flop around horribly or don’t move at all.

The nights go really slow. I tend to twitch around a bit so the machine doses me, and this way I sleep. Kynes says all the copies are sleeping, but they’re not. I’ve looked at another one with its eyes open before and it’s looked back at me. I can tell when they’re seeing. They don’t have that weird emptiness of vivisections.

Kynes comes in at eight, an hour early, and right away I can tell something is wrong. She comes up to my tank and puts her palms flat on the glass. Breathes.

I wish I could put my hands up, too, mirror hers. I wish I could ask what’s wrong. She’s got that pinch between her eyebrows she gets when she’s not resting enough.

“Hey, 45,” she whispers.

Am I being decanted? Is this the day it happens? My heart rate monitor beeps and she glances up, then back down to me. “It’s okay. You listening?”

I curl both index fingers. She’d taught me how to move my fingers so we could talk. Sort of. I’m limited to yes-no, maybe-help, nothing I want to say, like Where do you go when you leave, and, Why don’t you take me with you, and, What’s my original called?

“She’s in the hospital again. It’ll be fine, it always is. Just wanted to tell you. You’re a good listener.”

My original. That’s the only thing that makes Kynes sound like that, a tight hollow voice. Who is she? I want to ask. Who is she to you? Does she know you like me?

“She doesn’t even know you’re here,” Kynes whispers. “My secret.”

Her secret. I’m her secret. I can’t ask how I’m a secret when the whole lab knows I’m here, or why my original doesn’t know I exist, or how she can afford me when the technicians always complain about not having enough money. Only people with lots of money can afford a copy. We’re expensive to grow and keep. Most people, Kynes says, use lab-grown tissue, but our originals can afford a whole body.

The day-to-day going ons of a laboratory from the perspective of the clone in a vat.

[mokeonn]

I think that the 2010's media landscape of Buzzfeed articles about plotholes in disney movies, Cinemasins critiques, and Watchmojo Top Ten scenes in movies that make no sense has truely ruined a lot of media. People are afraid that their work will be torn down if they dare leave a single thing up in the air, if they dare ask their audience to suspend their disbelief.

All too often nowadays I see stories (especially fantasy), take the time to explain how every small aspect of the world works and how it all logically makes sense. The constant time stopped to explain why an event happened, how this object works, or why this is important to the characters. It's just really not needed and it honestly makes a lot of stories worse.

I am of the opinion that the best stories truly just drop you into their world and explain nothing. They just take you through the story of this world and you just have to accept it and continue on. "When he became king, the land became barren." I don't want the story to stop and explain why this is, or how it happened, I want us to move on so we can just assume that the king has such rancid vibes that everything died.

[spicebiter]

FUUck okay so i was thinking sometime last week 'man my time is not being used ideally and it's probably bad for my enrichment and also for Getting Stuff Done since i dedicate my time to like One Big Thing per day' and i'm worried about spending too much time sitting n shit so for one i'm gonna be gettin some Just Dance and putting a lil time into learning yoga or perhaps tai chi or both but also i was like AH I need a day planner! So i can like pre-decide what I'll do to get some variety into my life which yknow i foolishly thought was a simple task

First off i looked into day planners at just walmart and GOD they're all so over-developed and shit there's sooo much page dedicated to like life goals and very christian coded mindfulness stuff and there's not only a regular calendar section but an actual area where you can go into minor detail about what you gotta do that day THAT'S NOT REALLY A DAY PLANNER MAN IT'S NOT and what's my only other option?? A journal with the same fuckin issue where it's so like motivation and self improvement based or it just does not have enough pages to function like i need so

So i'm like okay well i know there's like modular journals where it's like you attach pages to these rings and you can just add and remove them as needed that's great okay so i go to joanns SAME PROBLEM plus they're selling me like complete packages that's NOT CUSTOMIZABLE that's like going to build-a-bear and they've got the bear stuffed and in clothes and sure you can change it's clothes but you HAVE to buy it with those ones on it. So okay then let's look online for yknow the same sort of thing but i can like build it from components and sure i found a lot of options but its still overengineered page inserts and they're selling 36 weeks worth of pages for 27 dollars??? NOT EVEN A WHOLE YEAR???

So yknow what okay fine i'll just get a journal. But I know what the journals at walmart look like (bad) and getting one online is like... stupid. But ah i got the dream journal i use from barnes and noble and that's nice and simple, didn't cost a lot, and it feels much more sturdy than the ones at the grocery store. DUDE i should've just done this from the start like right away i found a small one year day planner that has a simple page a day layout. Shit is pocket sized with a hardcover, elastic closure, couple ribbon bookmarks, a little envelope thingy, an address book, a notes section, a couple pages that are just international holidays, a conversion chart for all kinds of shit... AND I had five dollars in rewards so it was like 17 bucks i just

why the hell didn't i think to go to a bookstore for a book in the first place

[avocado-writing]

Hey, I love your writing and I just saw Deadpool and Wolverine and fuck it was good!

Could I request a Dp x W x reader smut where Logan goes into rut? If not that’s totally fine, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to ask

@saradika did an amazing Logan rut fic here, you really ought to go and read it if you like this kinda thing!

3.2k words. smut. minors dni

vaguely sub!Logan (he deserves to be taken care of); handjob (logan receiving); p in v sex (Logan giving, reader receiving); p in a sex (Wade giving, Logan receiving); knotting; fluff

It’s been a long day.

Logan is tired in a way he’s unused to being tired, at least for several years now - the kind where he’s worked himself to exhaustion after a hard day on the job. It’s not been easy, trying to build himself a new life from the ground up, make amends for how he was and attempt to be a good man again, but at least he’s got a pretty solid foundation beneath him: you and Wade.

He spots the two of you waiting outside the local bodega, finds himself rolling his eyes but smiling when Wade makes a big show of waving to him. Ahh. You two. He’s not quite sure where he fits in with your relationship, but you’ve both made it clear he’s welcome there. The three of you don’t go through something like what happened in the Void and come out without some pretty soul-deep bonds. And it’s… nice. It’s new.

Nothing too much has transpired yet, at least physically. The two of you are happy to pepper him in kisses but, so far, he’s gently turned down every invitation to join you in the bedroom. Not that he doesn’t want to. Fuck, he wants to. But he’s an old man now, a recovering drunk, and he has some… concerns about how well he’d be able to keep up. Doesn’t wanna humiliate himself between the two of you. So for now, he’s content to just be in a pile with you both when you’re watching a movie at night, held and caressed.

“Hey sugartits,” says Wade with a grin when he’s within earshot, “how was our hard-working man’s day at the testosterone factory?”

“Fine. Pretty fuckin’ tiring,” he confesses. He’s working manual labour at the moment, long days at a construction site, getting himself back into the shape he used to be. It’s good to feel like he’s doing something active and he’s making an okay paycheck too. You press a cool soda into his hand, a glass bottle, and he looks around before using his claws to pop the lid off. It’s refreshing as he gulps it down and he’s glad for it - no more booze. Not any more. He’s trying to be better and the two of you are either side of him to help get there.

“We got sandwiches for dinner, hope that’s okay,” you say, holding up a plastic bag. He breathes in the warm smell of the foil-wrapped food and…

… and he catches something else, too.

Something sweet, heady. It’s oozing off of you and Wade in waves. Catches in the back of his throat as he starts scenting the air properly. Oh fuck. 

His nostrils flare.

The two of you smell delicious.

And, for the first time in years, he can feel something begin to boil in his stomach, thick like molasses, the urge to mate.

Just lile that, he’s going into a rut.

“Logan, you okay?” you ask, noticing his shift in demeanour and reaching out to place a hand on his bicep. It’s like you’re made of static electricity, shooting a current all the way through him - and that’s just over his sleeve. God knows how he’d survive if it was skin-to-skin. He has to strangle a moan in his mouth before it can escape and incriminate him.

“Mmm. Not feeling so hot. Want to get home.”

You and Wade exchange a concerned look, but you know when not to push - and you stop Wade from doing so, too. He limits himself to an, “okay Peanut, keep your secrets I guess…” and leaves it there.

Logan makes himself hang behind as the two of you start the wander back to the apartment, tangling your fingers together and speaking in hushed tones. If he was in the state of mind to care more he’d try to listen in. He isn’t. The only thing he can concentrate on is trying not to get a semi in the street.

He thought he was over this. Thought that age and years of alcohol had grinded down that particular biological impulse. He’d sort of forgotten what it was like, actually, the urge to fuck so bad that part of his brain was worried it’d kill him if he didn’t. 

But then again, until now, he hasn’t had you both, has he? People who cared about him again. People who loved him. People who made it clear they’d look after him, whatever way he needed you to.

Fuck. Fuck. He needs to get home now.

It’s agony, the two of you walking in front of him. You both smell fucking amazing. There’s a soft, perfumey, light scent rolling off you; Wade’s slightly headier, nearly cloying. Together it is the most amazing combination he’s ever known. He digs his fingernails into the meat of his palm to steady himself until they bleed and heal, bleed and heal, bleed and heal - over and over. At least the pain is distracting.

When you open the door to the apartment he shoulders past you both and heads straight into the bedroom, attempting to slam the pathetic plywood door behind him and gruffly telling you not to follow. He can’t have you see him like this: animalistic, desperate, feral. So needy that it’s fucking humiliating. He needs to have something touching his dick, now.

He slumps down on the bed, hands fumbling at how quickly he tries to rid himself of his jeans. Fuck he wishes he hadn’t worn a belt this morning, just wasting time, getting in the way… he slices it off instead, flinging it to the side of the room where it hits the wall and lands on the shared washing basket. Three sets of clothes share that space like you share this one: yours, his, Wade’s. What a mixture. Fuck. For a moment he considers burying his face in it, smelling your combination and fucking himself to completion on the scent of home. At least he has the strength to resist that.

His cock is leaking when he pulls it out. Red, thick, pulsing in his hand as he wraps his fingers around it. Logan growls out a little noise of pleasure as he starts to work himself. He finds his hips bucking up pathetically into his own grasp but he knows it isn’t enough: if he’s going into a rut he’s going to need someone to help him through it. Look at him. Fucking pitiful old man jerking himself off because he has no control over his own body. What sort of partner would he make for you both?

“Logan, we just wanted to check you’re… oh.”

And then there you both are. In the doorway, eyes open and very much fixed on what he’s doing to himself. He can see the way Wade’s pupils dilate, how you lick your lips at the sight of his cock. 

“I mean, you could have told us you needed to bust one o–” you elbow Wade in the ribs, wiping the grin off of his face.

“Logan, honey,” you whisper, voice syrupy sweet. Oh shit. Another wave of pre dribbles down his knuckles and he hears Wade suck in a breath. “Do you need us to help?”

He can only grit his teeth and nod. He’d do anything to feel another set of hands on him right now.

Instead, he feels two.

Wade sits down on his right, you on his left. He doesn’t expect Wade to kiss him but he’s not exactly complaining about it either, not when the mercenary’s tongue swipes across his and it tastes so good. Your lips attach to the sweet spot of skin between his earlobe and his jaw and start to bite. Logan moans into Wade’s mouth as you nibble on him, tracing his pulse with your teeth.

When Wade pulls back it’s only to catch the back of your head and press your mouth to Logan’s too with a gravelly, “your turn.” Without debate you take over, kissing him softly but passionately, moaning against his lips. Your hand bumps against his, encouraging him to move it, and he does so dutifully - and it’s him moaning when you wrap around his cock.

“Fuck, look at that. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I used to subscribe to a lot of OnlyFans,” Wade murmurs, and Logan nearly yelps when he feels your hand get heavier on him. He glances down to see Wade has wrapped his fingers around yours so that you can both jerk him off at the same time. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Is this good?” you breathe, eyes wide. Logan can only groan and nod, and then suddenly he’s coming - a train to his guts, trickling down over both of you and choking out an amalgamation of your names. 

He feels you pull back, then hears you whisper “oh fuck” when he’s still hard.

“I told you!” Wade hisses. “I told you I thought he could go for multiple rounds!”

You press your fingers into his mouth to shut him up, making him lick Logan’s spend off your knuckles. He does so with surprising obedience. 

“‘S a biological thing,” Logan says through gritted teeth, still aware he’s throbbing even though he’s just had an orgasm, “gotta be inside someone to make it calm down.”

Your eyes widen. You and Wade look at each other.

“Do… do you have a preference?” you ask, voice low. He shakes his head.

“No. It’ll probably end up bein’ both of you by the end of the night.”

From the way the two of you light up, it’s as if he’s just announced that Christmas has come early. He watches, dumbstruck, as the two of you slap your fists into your palms, the same ones who just gave him the first non self-eked orgasm in years, and say in unison:

“Rock-paper-scissors-shoot!”

Your paper covers Wade’s rock. You grin and he grumbles.

“Fine, I’m more of a top, anyway…”

Logan watches the two of you begin to strip properly. If he had his senses about him this is something he’d enjoy doing himself, seeing every inch of soft curve you have to offer, the strong plain of Wade’s abdomen. But all he can do is stare with need as you unveil yourselves to him, two perfect presents he’s allowed to indulge in.

Wade’s hard, you’re pretty fucking soaked as you lay down on the bed in front of him, tapping his bicep to indicate the fact he’s still wearing his flannel shirt.

“This needs to come off,” you state, authoritatively. Well, fuck. That sends a roll of electricity down Logan’s spine which he wasn’t expecting. He starts to tug at it, pulling the material over his head as Wade fiddles with his jeans.

“These too big boy,” Wade mumbles, and he lets himself be handled by the two people he knows are sincere about looking after him. Together your abandoned clothes make a mess of the bedroom and Logan feels himself throb at the idea of being at the centre of the chaos.

“C’mere,” you sigh, opening your arms to him. Logan wastes no time in accepting the invitation, moving so that he’s above you and you’re able to part your legs to make room for his bulk. Any other time, any other time, he’d want to stretch this out. Maybe eat you out for a while as Wade is forced to watch, or vice versa… but right now all he can do is thrust wildly at your folds, feeling the blunt head of his cock slide against your wetness.

“C’mon loverboy, you can do it,” Wade whispers in his ear, and suddenly a scarred hand is wrapping around his length to guide him inside of you. Logan hisses as he sinks in with one fluid motion. You suck air in through your teeth, grinning up wildly at him.

“Fuck, Logan, that’s it…”

“How does he feel, baby?” asks Wade from where he’s reaching into the side table, though Logan’s whole body is so preoccupied with being inside a warm, wet hole that he can’t in that moment fathom why.

“Fucking fantastic,” you breathe as Logan starts to fuck you properly. There’s no rhythm to it, just utter desperation, just chasing that orgasm which will relieve him of the weight and languidness in his bones. You breathe roughly, the hair on his chest scratching your tits as they bounce up and down. You throw your head back and he buries his face in your neck, where your scent is strongest, and he knows he’s gonna have to go all night at this rate.

A finger circles his hole and for a second he freezes, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

Wade is lining himself up in position behind him, bottle of lube in one hand, the other teasing at his entrance. The mercenary cocks a brow.

“What, you never had someone fuck you like this before? Gimme a break, peanut. The amount of flannel and leather you wear, you’ve known you’re bisexual for a long time.”

If he had more control over his speech he’d bite something back at Wade, but right now…? Yeah. He wants Wade to fuck him like he’s fucking you.

“Go hard. I can take it,” he growls, continuing to plow down, sinking his cock impossibly deeper into your tight heat and making you squeal. He hears Wade whisper a prayer of thanks to whatever god is listening and then he presses two long, lubed fingers inside him.

It’s a strange intrusion. Logan hasn’t had someone there for a long while now. That’s not to say it isn’t good, because holy shit it feels amazing to fuck back onto Wade’s hand as he move his hips against you. Wade does as he’s been bid, stretching him open roughly and wantonly, pouring more out of the little bottle when needed to ease his access. A third finger is added and every time Logan moves back to drive further into you, he feels himself hit Wade’s knuckles. 

“Holy shit,” Wade mutters, “look at you, peanut! Taking me like a champ. You reckon I could fit my whole hand inside, or…?”

“If you don’t put your dick to good use in the next ten seconds I’m gonna rip it off,” Logan snarls, needy and ferocious. Wade doesn’t have an answer to that, instead positioning himself behind him and holding onto Logan’s hips to make him go still. You mewl at the loss of movement but it isn’t for long - Wade sinks himself balls deep inside of Logan, filling him to the brim.

“Fu-uu-uu-ck,” Wade groans, eyes rolling back, then to you: “you’re right, baby. This is pretty goddamn fantastic.”

You smile up at him from beneath both men, reaching up so you can take his hand in yours and squeeze his fingers in the solidarity of sharing a man you’ve both been fantasising about since you met him for the first time at that dingy bar.

Then Wade starts to move, and Logan loses himself.

It’s messy and uncoordinated, but fuck does it feel good to ride out his rut sandwiched between two partners. Each time Wade presses down his hips, his head hitting that spot inside that’s been neglected for decades, he’s forced to fuck into you. Your cunt makes lewd, thrilled noises as he goes, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders to bring him closer. Your tongue swipes the hinge of his jaw and Logan moans, cradled and cared for and adored.

His second orgasm is on the horizon and, with it, a feeling in his cock he hasn’t known for a long time. One he didn’t expect to know again. As Wade dips down to start pressing kisses all over his shoulderblades, Logan moves his mouth to the shell of your ear.

“Gonna knot you,” he manages, and though you can’t be entirely sure what he means, you nod enthusiastically.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Do it, Logan,” you breathe. Fog floods his mind as he starts chasing his release inside of you, base of his cock swelling. Wade can clearly sense that something is on the horizon and quickens his pace, the idea of all of you finishing together just too good to pass up; Logan feels him catch his elbow and manoeuvre his hand towards where your hips meet his.

“C’mon Logan, if we don’t all cum it’s no fun,” he chuckles. Logan gets the picture and moves so that he can press his callused thumb into your clit and work rough circles there. When you gasp in pleasure so hard that your eyes roll back in your head, he knows it’s working. 

Fuck. He can’t last much longer. Wade fucks down into him, the heat in his stomach builds, and then—

It’s like fireworks.

He feels his knot force its way along the straining length of his cock and you gasp and squeeze him as it locks into place inside of you. He floods you with his cum, biting down on a pillow as it rocks him to his very core, keeps moving his hand and then you’re there with him, walls fluttering as you let out a string of very colourful language. Wade’s head tips forward to rest on his back as he empties himself inside of Logan, his hot seed spilling out and dripping onto the mattress below.

The three of you collapse for a moment to catch your breaths. Then suddenly your hand is slapping his arm.

“Fucking move, you two. You’re crushing me…”

“Oop,” Wade breathes, pulling out of Logan and making him hiss with the loss of contact, but meaning that he can roll over and have you rest comfortably on top of him. You sigh, happier now, nestling your head into Logan’s chest. Wade runs his fingers over the seam where you’re connected.

“So what, this just stays like this for…?” he leaves the end of the sentence open. Logan hums, pretty fucking blissful.

“‘Bout half an hour. Not too long.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him. He can feel his cum ripple inside you obscenely, Wade’s own dripping out of his fucked-out hole. 

“You feel better now?” you breath, dropping a kiss on his pectoral.

“Yeah. Thanks. I, uh, appreciate it,” he manages. You and Wade grin at each other.

“Any time, pookie. Just remember, next time I have first dibs on that monster dong,” Wade states, slapping the side of his ass like he’s a prime piece of meat… but hey, maybe he is. Maybe he doesn’t mind so much if it’s coming from someone he cares about.

His cock twitches inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Logan, again…?”

“It lasts a few days,” he confesses. 

“A few days… I’m gonna go get the sandwiches. Well need sustenance for the road ahead,” Wade states, rushing out to the kitchen without even bothering to tug his sweatpants back on. Logan gives an affectionate chuckle and then, for a moment, it’s just you and him.

“Really,” he mutters, “thank you. Dunno what I’d have done if you two weren’t there.”

Your fingers come to tangle in his hair.

“Logan, honey. You don’t have to thank us. We love you,” you say, simply, and it stirs his heart in a way he hasn’t felt for a long time now.

Yeah. Maybe it'll take some time to say it out loud but loves you both, too.

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

[raewritesfiction]

Overqualified [Bill Skarsgard]

A/N: based on an anon ask to use the line “you’re fucking overqualified”. I started writing and it wrote itself. Enjoy!

Plot: PWP.

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard X Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Sloppy head. Pussy eating. Fingering. Unprotected P in V (use a condom!!)

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @thegreatlarryfisherman @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikkikrash @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @sycochick @1-800-imagines @venusbabysblog

—

You moan loudly as Bill holds your pussy against his mouth; the man is eating as if it’s his last meal. The sheets are pulled off from every corner of the bed due to your writhing and pulling while the man between your legs makes you cum over and over until you’re sure you’ve forgotten what day of the week it is.

He pulls away after your fifth, or is it sixth, orgasm. Your head is swimming and that old cliche about seeing stars is making more sense to you now.

Bill isn’t done with you yet and his fingers slide into you and curl; you gasp and arch off the bed when he starts moving them quickly inside you. The pads of his fingertips press and rub against that sensitive spot inside you making you squirm. You can hear your arousal; the sounds are fit for a porn movie. Even laid on your back your thighs are soaked in your juices. You try to get away but grind your hips down for more and just as that intense moment of bliss is ready to explode inside of you… Bill withdraws his fingers.

You let out a long whine and lay panting; Bill is moving but your eyes won’t open right now so you have no clue what he’s doing. You feel your legs being spread wider and his hands gliding up your thighs to your hips, you twitch a little as something pushes against your very sensitive opening then let out a loud moan as his cock easily slips into you fully.

Bill groans roughly and positions himself for a deep pace; you’re barely breathing properly again before his hips are moving into you. He grunts and moans, fingers digging into your soft flesh leaving bruises and the mix of that slight pain mixed with how full you feel, his cock reaching every part of you and stretching you with a warm ache is a whole new pleasure.

The pillow under your head is all but rags and loose feathers from the way you pull at it. Your throat is raw and rough from your moans and screams of Bill’s name but somehow you manage to call out “Don’t stop!!”

Growling low, Bill pulls you onto his thrusting hips and pants harshly; he watches you through half closed eyes, his gaze roaming over every part of your sweat covered form beneath him. He doesn’t care about the torn pillows and ruined bed sheets - he’s happy to buy new ones as many times as he needs to.

You gasp and whine again “Fuck…. Fuck oh god!” It’s all you can manage as the climax you’d been chasing since he’d removed his fingers, crashes over you. Your hips lift and tremble, your legs turn to jell-o and you definitely can’t remember what day of the week it is or if it’s morning or night. Your scream is silent and your body tenses under Bill before going limp.

Laying on the bed panting you swallow thickly and realise there was no final moans of pleasure from Bill, instead he’s leaning down over you kissing your skin and stroking over the bruises on your hips. He’s asking if you’re okay, whispering sweet things to you and after what he had done to you there was no way you were leaving him unsatisfied.

It takes a few moments but you use what strength you have left to flip your positions and lift off of his solid cock. You smirk at him and shuffle down the bed; grazing your teeth over his defined abs and hips.

“Baby… you don’t have to..” he smiles softly but watches you intently.

“Oh I do..” you nod and lick along his cock, tasting yourself for the first time. You moan and relax your throat before taking as much of his length into your mouth as you were able. The man was endowed and he quickly fills your mouth and hits your throat. You groan around him and let your saliva mix with your juices on his cock, sucking as you slowly pull away and bob your head.

On each pull back you take a little more of his impressive size and as you get more comfortable your nose hits the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. Bill groans loudly and runs a hand into your messy hair, he grips lightly but doesn’t add any pressure - he wants to let you do what you want.

You groan around him and bob your head quickly; keeping your teeth covered and your tongue out. Looking up under your lashes you see his chest heaving with every one of your movements and he moans louder.

“Fuck..!!” He pants quickly and grips the edge of the bed until his knuckles are white.

You watch his stomach muscles and feel his cock twitch a moment before he calls out; you swallow around him and instead of stopping and pulling away, you continue. A new resolve fills you and you keep sucking along his cock. Bill gasps and sputters on the bed and you hold his hips down with an arm across his lower stomach, your free hand moves to his balls and massage him firmly.

“God damnit!! Fuck!!”

You hum and moan, his cock is still twitching against your tongue and his balls seem to be doing the same thing. Bill can’t keep himself still and claws at the blankets and sheets that are now a complete mess around you both.

“Babe!!” He yells and pulls at the bed.

Holding him down a little harder you work his cock, you know you’re drooling and the sounds coming from your mouth around him are a symphony of disgraceful lust.

“You’re fucking overqualified!!” He calls out and strains against the sheets as he practically roars with his climax. You once again dutifully swallow around him and tease with a few more light sucks in pulses around the head of his cock, making Bill let out a strangled whine before you pull away and watch him lay panting on the bed.

You smirk at the sight of him laying spent from your ministrations and wipe at your mouth, crawling up to lay beside him.

Bill opens his eyes lazily and looks at you through half-lidded eyes, he opens his mouth to say something but shakes his head and chuckles instead.

You smile and kiss his cheek, laying your head down on his chest, it takes little time before you hear his deep steady breathing of sleep and less time for you to join him.

-fin-

[okwonyo]

BEWITCHED, 或──── how the first kiss went.

❛ 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾.

1THOU 𓈒𓈒 日语 ⠀ ╱ fem!rea ⌕ fluff non idol au ──dis. skinship kissing と ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀hihihihihi >< i missed u guys 🎀 repost because i forgot to add jw’s part TT

reblogs ˊᗜˋ +feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

the popular belief would assume that a first kiss with him would go smoothly, that he would just lean whenever he feels like it.

but it is not, there is no world where it goes like that. in fact, he did think about it during the entire date— even since he laid his eyes on you. unfortunately, he is too shy to act on his thoughts.

because of this, his only way to say goodbye to you is by doing a very elaborate handshake and holding your hand for two solid minutes.

thankfully for him, you are the epitome of his dream girl: and his dream girl knows how to read his mind.

“if you want to kiss me,” you tell him, the moonlight kissing the surface of your skin. his gaz brushes your face like a brush on a canva. you step closer to him, lips brushing his, “you just can say so.”

he moves like he is hypnotized, his body moving yo meet your lips halfway. he pecks you once and can’t get enough— his hands cup your cheeks and he doesn’t leave you alone for a while.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

his look is heavy and soft on your face.

pressing the right place at the right moment— he makes it obvious but not enough to disturb you in what you are saying.

he waits until you stumble over your words. he looks at you, ready to take your breath away, eyes narrowed until you stop in the middle of your sentence.

“w—what?” you ask, barely able to breathe already.

he presses his lips together, debating whether he should play dumb or stop playing with you. tonight, he chooses to be nice:

in a sigh, he tells you, “i really want to kiss you is all.” he leans in, until his nose brushes yours and his breath brushes your lips as he says, “can i?”

everything just falls in place like water in a river. your hands travel each other, your lips fit well, the world fades away.

JAKE

on a cool yet warm summer night, you both walk hand in hand on the beach.

the sound of the waves creates a soft melody with the echo of your laughter. the sand melts under your feet and his shoulder keeps bumping into yours.

suddenly, you stop walking, “look,” you tell him, pointing at the sunset that he only admires through the reflection in your eyes.

inside of doing as he was told, he only looks at you, for a while— he admires the way the wind can easily touch your hair and he talks before he can think, “can i kiss you?”

you giggle, out of nervousness or because you are making fun of him, he isn’t sure. but you tell him something that soothes his heart: “yes.”

he leans in, planting a quick kiss on your lips. he pulls away, all red in the face before giggle and turning his face to the other side.

SUNGHOON

you drive him crazy— you make him feel in a way that no one has ever made him feel before. and that, sends him into an entire spiral.

whenever his eyes lock with yours, his hands get wet, his throat gets dry and his soul cries for you like a lamb cries for water.

his body is overwhelmed by the need of diving in, to capture your lips with his and never pull away— unfortunately for him, it reflects in his eyes just well.

he flinches at the smallest movement of yours, when you are suddenly too close like right now. where he stands right in front of you as your back faces your apartment’s building.

his eyes don’t leave yours as you put your hand on his shoulder and get on your tiptoes. for a moment, your lips connect and before he can even realize it. it’s over.

he mourns this moment as soon as you turn on your heels to get in. leaving him here, shocked and flushed.

SUNOO

a first kiss with him would be perfect — simply magical.

there isn't any words needed, or any right time. it comes naturally, as if it was the way were planned out to be since the beginning.

it comes like the spring wind at the end of winter— during a movie night at his.

of course, during a kiss scene, he isn’t able to not look at you and you are driven by the law of attraction to the same.

as the screen in front of you show two people sharing a kiss, you both lean in forward, aiming for each other’s lips.

it’s soft and refreshing, like peaches.

JUNGWON

it comes to him instinctively.

to be completely honest; first, it would come in a vision and he feels the need to fulfill the prophecy a few seconds after.

you have been going on and on about how you are not jealous. about how you know he is not your boyfriend (which hurts him!) and that it is not even a big deal.

your mouth has been blabbing about how this girl flirting with him while you were right next to him is just weird! and he needs a way to shut you up.

and he also needs to kiss you— he doesn’t think, his body just moves on his own.

the taste of you is too sweet, he ends up being the one who lacks words as you look at him with big eyes.

RIKI

it happens just like in the shojo you love to watch, like the manhwa you read, like the korean dramas you love so much.

you have been dating for three months, and farest you went when it comes to intimacy is hand holding— he can barely hug you for more than three seconds without becoming burning hot.

but, ever since his friend jokes about him not having his first kiss yet, he has decided to make it happen.

so, he finds himself sitting on his knees in front of you, who sits cross legged. he closes his eyes and leans towards you, shaking a tad and blushing a lot.

you are as nervous but you can’t help but giggle against his lips when he give you a tiny peck.

he ends up falling on his back with his hands covering his face

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[luvbinnies]

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable. 

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building. 

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media. 

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has. 

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index,  hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes. 

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours. 

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months. 

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him. 

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them. 

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault. 

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution. 

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to. 

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly. 

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil. 

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care. 

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands. 

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his  stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug. 

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything. 

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away. 

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then. 

So now you hold on to that damn pencil. 

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday. 

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to. 

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly. 

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. 

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying. 

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it. 

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do. 

But he does.

He always does. 

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page. 

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.” 

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble. 

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance. 

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out. 

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns— 

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing. 

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar. 

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners. 

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists. 

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen. 

 The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His. 

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. 

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze. 

Sunghoon had turned in his seat. 

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other. 

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised. 

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day. 

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: yn@beliftuniversity.com

To: parksunghoon@beliftuniversity.com 

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done. 

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not  even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates. 

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game. 

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it. 

He doesn’t hit send. 

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder. 

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin. 

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor. 

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face. 

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today. 

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses. 

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold. 

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin. 

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents. 

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more. 

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered. 

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you. 

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project. 

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time. 

—

Two year ago

 It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started. 

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race. 

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone. 

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable. 

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it. 

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all. 

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken. 

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed. 

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself. 

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. 

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened. 

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always. 

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it. 

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet. 

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin. 

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out. 

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted. 

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks. 

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past. 

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else. 

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon. 

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you. 

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking. 

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out. 

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself. 

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical. 

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged. 

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right. 

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name. 

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him. 

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too. 

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again. 

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid. 

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is. 

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate. 

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat. 

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for. 

But you can’t. 

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you. 

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well. 

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss. 

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you. 

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best. 

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him. 

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression. 

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer. 

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it. 

Because he knows.

Because he did leave. 

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all. 

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid. 

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder. 

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills. 

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle. 

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers. 

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished. 

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him. 

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line. 

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over. 

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge. 

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?” 

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky. 

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.” 

-

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

[solxamber]

vil, romantic, "By Birthright" by glaive. for the valentines event.

thank you! i love your writings and hope you have a good day/night!

thank you! hope you like my take on it <3

"Yours, By Fate or By Choice" || Vil Schoenheit

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: By Birthright by glaive

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 890

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Vil was used to being loved.

No, not loved—admired. There was a difference.

He had been admired since the moment he first stepped into the limelight, sculpted into something unattainable, something people would whisper about in reverence but never truly touch. To be Vil Schoenheit meant to be adored from a distance, to be placed upon a pedestal so high that no one could see the cracks beneath the surface.

And yet, you never seemed to look at him like the rest of the world did.

It had unnerved him at first, the way you treated him normally, as if he were just another person rather than a name to be worshipped. You didn’t hesitate to scold him when he pushed himself too hard, nor did you hold back your laughter when he said something ridiculous. You never fawned over his beauty like others did, but you looked at him with something softer, something steadier, something real.

At first, he had thought you simply didn’t understand. That you hadn’t yet realized what being with him meant—the expectations, the scrutiny, the inevitable comparisons to whatever untouchable image the world had created for him.

So he waited.

For the moment you would hesitate. For the day you would begin to look at him with doubt, wondering if this was too much, if he was too much.

But that moment never came.

Instead, you stayed. You fit yourself into his world so easily, so naturally, that it left him reeling. Mornings with you wrapped in his sheets, complaining about the early hour but refusing to let go of his hand. Afternoons spent curled up beside him, reading while he worked, never demanding his attention but always there, a quiet, steady presence. Evenings where you pressed against his side at galas and public appearances, undeterred by flashing cameras and murmured gossip.

Your love was not the kind he was used to—loud, extravagant, built on expectations. It was simple, solid, given not because of what he was but because of who he was.

And that terrified him.

Because if your love was real, if it wasn’t something he had to earn, then what was stopping you from waking up one day and realizing he wasn’t enough?

The night it finally came to a head, the air was heavy with unsaid words.

You were seated beside him on the couch, one leg tucked beneath you, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone while he flipped through a script. The soft glow of the lamp cast golden light over your features, and for a moment, all Vil could do was stare.

You were beautiful. Not in the way the world demanded beauty to be—carefully curated, painfully refined—but in the way that made something ache inside his chest.

And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"I don’t understand you."

You blinked, setting your phone aside. "What do you mean?"

His grip on the script tightened. "I don’t understand how you can sit there and look at me like that. Like you see me."

Confusion flickered across your face. "Vil, I—"

"You say you love me," he interrupted, the words coming out sharper than intended. He turned to face you fully, violet eyes searching yours for something—hesitation, doubt, anything that would make sense of this. "Do you really mean it? Or is it just another thing people say when they think they know me?"

Your brows furrowed, and before he could retreat into himself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his with deliberate care.

"Of course I mean it," you said softly. Then, as if sensing the storm beneath his skin, you shifted closer, pressing your forehead against his. "I love you, Vil. Not the person in magazine covers, not the idol people worship. You."

He wanted to believe you. God, he wanted to. But belief had never come easily to him.

"You don’t have to say things just because—"

Your hands cupped his face, tilting it so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. "I love you," you repeated, each syllable deliberate, unwavering. "Not because I should, not because you’ve earned it, not because of some fate written in the stars. I love you because I chose to."

Something inside him broke.

It was such a simple truth, one he should have known, should have accepted. But it was different hearing it from you, from the one person who had never treated him as anything but Vil.

His throat felt tight. He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. And when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Then I’ll hold you to that."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. "Good."

Vil had spent his whole life thinking love was something he had to fight for, something that could be taken away the moment he faltered.

But here you were, holding his hand, staying by his side, loving him without conditions or expectations.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe it.

It didn’t matter if the rest of the world saw him as untouchable, unreachable, forever performing.

Because you had chosen him. Not as a perfect idol, not as a destined love story, but as something real.

And as long as you were by his side, that was enough.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[minswriting]

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | unprotected sex, breeding kink

it’s time to think about fucking aaron hotchner raw.

there’s just something about the way aaron looked at you that just got you going. perhaps it was the longing gazes he’d give to you throughout the day or the fact that he was not dressed in his normal suit. he was dressed in a polo t-shirt that fit him so nicely that it made you clench your thighs the moment you saw him.

so when you had gotten to the hotel that night, it was no surprise to you when you found out that the two of you would be sharing a room. it makes the most sense with how you’re dating. when you guys got to your room, you didn’t give aaron any time to look around when you pulled him to the bed.

“sweetheart?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you when you pushed him onto the mattress. “what-“ his question was interrupted when you desperately unzipped his pants. and then he knew exactly what you wanted. he licked his lips, watching you pull his pants down enough to reveal his half-hard cock.

“i need you so badly,” you breathed out, undressing yourself completely. your movements were quick and desperate as your fingers fumbled with the button of your jeans. “don’t want to wait.”

and when you had finally undressed yourself completely, you sighed in relief as you moved to straddled aaron’s hips. “not even going to use protection?” he breathed out, his hands immediately going to your hips.

you shook your head. “need to feel you completely,” you said. just by watching you undress, aaron’s cock got fully hard which was perfect because you really just need him. your hand went underneath you, guiding aaron’s cock to your entrance. foreplay is overrated when all you want is dick.

you slowly eased yourself onto aaron’s cock, making the both of you hiss in pleasure. it wasn’t the first time you guys have done it without protection. there were times when aaron would come home from a really long case and fuck you like you were nothing but a cumslut for him. which you never really minded. if you end up pregnant with his child, well that’s just a solid win right there.

“yes,” you moaned, bouncing your hips, throwing your head back in pleasure as you rested your hands on his torso. you were finally getting the relief that you so desperately craved, having needed aaron’s cock buried inside of you.

aaron let out a groan, gripping your hips. “you’re so wet,” he said, looking up at you with a look of lust and adoration. “have you been thinking about this all day?”

you nodded your head, letting out a “mhm!” as rode aaron’s cock. your rhythm was slow and needy as your walls clenched around his cock.

“fuck,” he moaned, moving so that his feet were resting on the bed. he began fucking into you at a fast pace, causing you to gasp and stop your movements.

“o-oh my god,” you moaned, closing your eyes in pleasure as you allowed aaron to take over. his thrusts up into you were hard and fast, just what you needed. you felt the tension building up inside of you, knowing you weren’t going to last long at all. you cried out in pleasure. “i’m gonna cum,” you whined.

“go ahead, baby, show me just how much you needed my cock,” aaron grunted, breathing heavily as he thrusted his hips up into you.

it didn’t take long for you to cum, moaning aaron’s name as you clenched around his cock. aaron followed suit, groaning your name as he came inside of you, filling you up with his cum without a single care in the world. he held you against him, keeping you still as he came inside of you.

it was no wonder when you got a positive pregnancy test a month later.

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[rafedarling]

can you do the puppy interview with drew starkey x actress reader plss

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader ft rustyn starkey

summary: you and drew, and your son rustyn participate in a puppy interview, creating heartwarming chaos on set.

warning(s): english is not my native language. none, fluff and family fun.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

“Hello, this is Y/N.”

You start with a smile at the camera.

“I’m Drew Starkey,”

Drew adds, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as a playful corgi tugs at his shoelace.

“And I’m Rustyn Starkey!”

Rustyn proudly chimes in, his little voice filling the room.

The way he says it, with a mixture of excitement and confidence, makes the crew chuckle.

“And we’re here for…”

“A puppy interview!” you and Drew announce together while Rustyn claps his hands, his energy infectious.

Rustyn immediately gets distracted by a wiggly golden retriever puppy climbing into his lap.

“Hi, puppy!” he says, giggling as the pup licks his cheek.

Drew picks up the first card, holding it in front of him dramatically.

“Alright, first question… Who is the biggest dog lover? Drew or Y/N?”

He pauses for a second before answering with a grin.

“I’ll say both because we all love puppies!”

You nod, laughing as a dachshund pup curls up by your side.

“Okay, fair answer. But Rustyn might be the biggest dog lover here.”

Rustyn looks up from petting his puppy.

“I love them sooooo much!” he declares, making everyone on set melt.

The next card is passed to you, and you read aloud,

“What would you name this puppy if you could take it home?”

You hold up a fluffy Bernese mountain dog sitting near Rustyn.

“This one feels like a Charlie to me, big and sweet.”

Rustyn thinks for a moment before pointing to the golden retriever still snuggled in his lap.

“I’d name mine Buddy, ‘cause he’s my buddy now!”

Drew laughs, ruffling Rustyn’s hair.

“Buddy’s a solid name. I’d name this little guy Rufus,” he says, gesturing to a dachshund sniffing around his lap.

“He looks like he’s up to something.”

“Dada, can we take them all home?” Rustyn asks, his big eyes looking up at Drew.

You and Drew exchange a knowing glance, both trying not to laugh.

“We’ll see, buddy,” Drew says, grinning.

“But let’s finish the interview first, okay?”

The next question is read by Drew.

“Who’s more likely to sneak the puppy treats?”

“Dada,” Rustyn answers immediately, giggling.

Drew raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, guilty. But you’d sneak them, too, wouldn’t you, Rusty?”

Rustyn looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, but only if the puppies are really good.”

“That’s my boy,” Drew says, laughing as a corgi puppy climbs onto his lap.

The crew brings out more puppies, creating a delightful chaos as they run around the set. One pup grabs a squeaky toy, making Rustyn laugh so hard he falls back onto the couch.

“Alright, next question!” you say, trying to regain focus.

“Who’s more likely to cry if the puppy gets hurt or sick?”

You, Drew, and Rustyn all point at each other simultaneously, which sends everyone into fits of laughter.

“No way, it’s Dada,” Rustyn insists, his tiny finger pointing directly at Drew.

“You cried when we saw the movie about the dog!”

Drew laughs, trying to defend himself.

“It was an emotional movie! And don’t act like you didn’t cry too, bud.”

Rustyn shrugs, giggling. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Let’s just agree that we’d all be emotional wrecks if anything happened to these little guys.”

The final question comes up, and you hand the card to Drew. He reads it aloud.

“What’s one quality in each other that would make you amazing dog parents?”

Drew pauses, his expression softening as he looks at you.

“You’re so patient and loving. You make everything, whether it’s taking care of Rustyn, the dogs, or me, feel effortless. And I know you’d raise the most well-behaved dogs in the world… somehow.”

You feel your heart swell but quickly focus on him.

“And you’re the most hands-on dad and partner I’ve ever seen. You’d be out there training the dogs, playing with them, and making sure they’re spoiled with love. They’d be the happiest pups ever.”

Rustyn looks between the two of you.

“And I’d give them hugs and kisses every day!”

“We know you would,” you say, pulling him close for a quick kiss on the head.

As the interview wraps up, Rustyn is lying on the floor with three puppies cuddling around him, his giggles filling the set. You and Drew watch, smiling at each other.

“Mommy, Dada can we take Buddy home, please?” Rustyn pleads, his eyes shining with hope.

Drew looks at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think, Mama?”

You laugh, knowing the answer was already decided the moment Rustyn named the puppy.

“Alright, Buddy can come home with us.”

Rustyn cheers, throwing his arms around the golden retriever.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Drew leans over to kiss your cheek, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You’re the best.”

As the scene fades, Rustyn’s voice rings out

“This is the best day ever!”

[bigwishes]

Hey Magic Genie!

My wish is to be transformed, not just a little but HUGE changes. I want to be Massive, I want to explode with muscles. I wanna be the biggest hairiest bodybuilder ever,I dont care if im carrying a roidgut with me, or if im balding, if im just a dumb slab of meat. I just want to grow, my muscles, my height, my feet, just everything, make me almost immobile. Man I really dont care what you punish me with, just make me fucking massive! Make everybodies heads turn, make me the god of all gyms and make me arrogant with it! Make my Ego as massive as me!

Thank you magic Genie!

Sure thing.

That is definitely something we can do little guy or should I say big guy?

First things first you need a little bit of muscle, or rather a lot! pumping you up to look like a fitness model. Of course we cant just let you go with some free muscle, you said you want punishment well its simple. You cant be big like that and still be smart. You'll be as dumb as a rock, obsessed with your body. Trying to show anyone your body. You'll constantly strip and pose no matter where you are just begging for attention like a fucking slut.

Next, because of course we cant just leave you here. You'll find yourself constantly hungry. Like a big muscle piggy you'll rind yourself opening the fridge every 30 minutes looking for something else to stuff in your face.

Stuffing yourself you'll find that you are really starting to pack on the pounds. Both fat and muscle expanding your body. Slowly your body starts to reach its genetic limit for muscle and what was left over was simply being pushed out to blimp you up with a rock solid muscle gut.

lumbering around the gym like a idiotic giant you'll always be seen with a protein shake in one hand and a meal in another.

Your giant beefy frame will cause your furniture to bend under you and squeak. The metal of the workout machines will moan as you constantly slam the maximum weight up and down.

but people staring at you would probably just think you are a big guy in his bulk phase and we need everyone to know you are a disgusting muscle mutant.

Your muscle gut will expand and push outwards into a swollen roid gut. Rock solid with muscle you body looks like its been abused by HGH for years permanently shaping you into a morphed muscle blimp. No matter what you wear (when you wear clothes that is) you wont be able to stop your roid gut from lifting up your shirt to show off you abs and belly button that was forcefully pushed into an outie by all that meat on your gut.

all the eating wont help either, constantly stuffed to the brim you'll moan as your hear your roid gut churn and bubble like a boiler, your work outs, conversations, eating and even sex will all constantly be interrupted by your stomach painfully gargling forcing you to stop whatever you are doing in the moment to massage your roided up gut.

"BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP"

there you go sounding like a fucking roid pig. Oversized with mass and stuffed to the bring you wont be able to help belch like a nasty pig.

But we still aren't done big guy. Soon you'll find thick black hair sprouting over your entire body. Itchy and thick you'll always be scratching your beard and the hair covering your pecs and gut.

It'll also lock the heat coming out of your body making it harder and harder to cool off. You'll constantly sweat and your pits will always be soaked with sweat, so bad it'll be running down your lats causing you to always have massive pit stains on your tank top that goes all the way down to your waist.

Finally its time for your final set of gifts.

You'll find yourself at the gym, as normal. Taking a break from working out, reaching into your gym bag pulling out three protein bars with you ruthlessly shovel into your moth like the starving muscle pig you are.

Your body starts to get hotter and hotter, the sweat that normally pulls in your pits is now soaking your back. Slowly your body is expanding, bigger and bigger but you are too busy rubbing your abs to take notice, and too stupid to notice the pudge starting to form on your gut and body.

A pool of sweat is now starting to form under you, like someone spilt a mop bucket under you. Suddenly your feet ache and you watch them tear out of your shoes, almost tripling in size.

Your clothes start to tear of your muscles falling to shreds on the ground around you. Slowly you can feel the metal bench under you straining and it finally lets out.

a loud crash fills the gym as your body falls to the ground splashing in the massive pool of sweat. You try to get up but slip, falling down slamming your gut and letting out a monstrous burp.

One of the gym attendants come up to you finally able to notice you. He reaches out a hand asking if you need help getting up or if you are hurt.

You look up at him the sweat now dripping off your face, you take a moment but the only thing you notice about the gym attendant....is his lunch he's holding in his other hand.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRPPPPP

"you gonna eat that?"

The attendant was shocked and he failed to mutter an answer before you could heave your colossal frame off the ground, take his lunch from him and shovel it into your mouth with your hands.

Dropping the container on the ground you simply smirk and flex in front of him.

BUUUUURRRRRRRRPPP!!!!!!!!!

"thanks pipsqueak, that was good"

You clumsily shove past him your freakish size and weight knocking the attendant to the ground. You stupidly laugh telling him he should try eating a sandwich to gain some size.

You stumble to the changing room, at one point getting stuck between two machines and simply pushing them apart to make way for yourself like it was nothing.

sitting down on the wooden bench in the changing room you hear it creak and start to splinter under your weight.

"aw, fuck yeah, big....big.......me biiieeg"

burp.

Your brain starts to enter a fog, hearing the sweat dripping from your back and ass drip onto the tiled floor, unable to focus on anything but your big size and how hungry you feel. You were sure someone would have something to eat in their gym bag, surely they wouldn't mind if a big guy like you got to eat it. you need it more than them.

enjoy your life of flexing and stuffing yourself you dumb fucking muscle pig.

[hyuny-bunny]

what are your thoughts on skz with a dumb s/o? like genuinely ditzy and little absentminded and forgetful, but you’re still such a sweetheart. makes them wonder how dumb you’ll go on their cocks.

skz + dumb s/o

MDNI(18+): suggestive, nsfw, corruption kink, dumb kink ?, finger sucking, oral, penetration.

love this ask so much, it's not something i've thought much about before but here you go ! :3

chan: oh he dotes on you sooooo much. in the beginning he thought it was just a cute quirk but as you became more serious he realized... you really are just ditzy. he can't lie that he has to hold back on the days you can't help saying "huh?" or "hmm?" to everything but it sounds so saccharine from you. he loves the duality of it though. he can dote on you with how cute your whims are then flip you into a submissive state. even more so when he decides to pin you down in the backseat of his car putting your pretty mouth to good use. chastising you with "pretty baby so cock dumb hmm? only good for sucking me off huh?" with your response being your typical "hmm?" but your mouth stuffed with cock instead. even with your whimpers to take more of him in your mouth, he's happy to oblige holding your pretty face in his hands to use your mouth.

minho: as 1/3 of paboracha, he's never minded. intially i think he would think consider them as one off moments like asking the same question twice in a 2 second span. he might look at for a solid momemt with those cat blinking stares, processing that you're serious. he finds it cute though!! maybe quietly giggling to himself before kissing you on the forehead in passing. he likes it even more so when you're too cock dumb from him making you ride him while he coos and pets you like he does a cat. after trying to tease him all day with sex and suggestive groping. he only let you ride his thigh before caving into you enough to give you his cock after you begged him so nicely. "jagiya, use your words hm? too dumb to speak now hmm?" he'll say while thrusting up into you pretending he's not paying you any attention

changbin: loves loves loves how ditzy you are. he likes playing into the idea that he's just as much brain as he is brawn to you. especially when you're so absentminded with your surroundings in public. maybe there's someone being creepy towards you in a cafe, he's clocked them in already wrapping a protective arm around. you pick up in his protectiveness and to find your answer is being stared down with daggers by binnie. you're hero, savior! you have to reward him with the best head he'll ever had so you're happily taking him in your mouth once your home. he's got you on his cock taking him all the way down his throat while he coaxes you into fitting it all in your mouth "stupid angel always needs time to come to rescue mmh rewards me so sweetly."

hyunjin: 2/3 of paboracha coming in. he'd never think you were outright dumb, ditzy ? oblivious ? yes. he himself has no room to judge, you'd probably have him questioning himself on multiple occasions. you're probably just a little more oblivious around him, which he doesn't mind one bit. he kinda finds it cute how little though you probably give to so many things. he finds it even cuter when he's able to convince you to wear an outfit he picked out for you, one that of course will give him easy access to tease you in public. it was supposed to be cute picnic in secluded area of the park, until he had you laid out on the blanket taking his cock from behind shoving strawberry in your mouth & sucking fingers to shut you up. "shhh my love, don't want people to find us okay? can't let them see how stupid you were to let me take you like this"

han: going 3 for 3 with paboracha here. another one who dotes on your ditzy nature. i could see him with a s/o that's a little more clumsy. maybe you're always scraping a knee, bumping into sharp corners, burning yourself while cooking/baking, or just straight up walking into glass doors or poles. whatever the case may be he's there holding out his arms to soothe you, giving you kisses all over your face. he finds out how easy it is to convince you to the dumbest things. like convincing you that if you let him go down on you, his headache will go away or you're sore throat from the concert last night will feel sooooo much better if you blow him. that by swallow his cum, it'll feel & tase better then honey. "that's it's, good, suck me dry baby i promise you'll feel better. we might have to try a few loads of cum for it to work, k? just focus on taking it all though." his head thrown back while shoving you further on his cock.

felix: he likes that your so absentminded and ditzy. it make its so easy for him to impress you. especially when he has you sitting like a curious cat on his bed while you watch him build his new PC. your eyes sparking with excitement as he completes each step. or even when you watch him bake his recipes from scratch. doe eyed while you sit perched on the counter making your favorite brownies! he'd take a finger coated in the batter letting you lick off his fingers which only leads to him fucking you on the counter while he makes you choke on his batter covered fingers, "doesn't your orgasm feel so much better when you have something so sweet in your mouth mm? maybe let's watch you suck me off with the batter on my cock since you like my fingers so much?"

seungmin: mean dom seung *sigh*. he loves you to death but god you make it so easy for him to tease you. you're not a quick as he is, whether it's his snarky remarks or quick reactions to things he knows. you try to learn baseball, not actually playing but you know the basic rules. you want to try to at least understand what goes in the game. you're not the best but your attempts don't go unnoticed. even when someone hits a home-run but you're shouting goal so confidently it has him falling to his knees in laughing clutching his stomach because you genuinely meant it. he calls you the nth member of paboracha but in bed you're his dumb cock slut, taking him so good you're babbling nonsense. " what was that slut ? did you say something ? aren't you too dumb for words? " he'd condescendingly say before slamming himself into you once more.

jeongin: bark. sorry i love him so badly. he takes your ditzy nature as naiveness. whether or not that's the case, he'll treat it that way. even when you try to argue over something you know already he'll talk to you so sweetly like he's done such a good job of teaching you. maybe you're trying to learn japanese and his fluency helps you but he'll tsk you if he's in a particular mood. maybe you're out in japan gawking, 'ooh'ing and 'aww'ing at each store and you're curiosity almost gets you dragged in a male host club. so jeongin decides you need a break for a few hours so he checks you into a love hotel (unbeknownst to you) where he'd spend the next 2 hours or so talking down in your ear while he plays with you between your legs. haughtily scolding you for every single thing that's led to this moment, " i thought you knew better ? you have to listen to me jagiya, there's so many people out there that just want to use you hmm. guess i'll just have to show you." all before bending you over and smooshing your face into the pillow to abuse your hole with his cock, crying out for him to let you cum. chastising you until he's felt you learned you lesson.