#but then you get to the stories and it's like... oh. OH.......... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

musashi · 2 days ago

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I would like to know the MCR lore please and thank you.

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 2001

new jersey based cartoonist gerard way is commuting through new york city for an interview at a popular animation company

Uh Oh Sisters.

a few miles away from ground zero gerard watches the second tower fall and messages everyone he knows like quit your job join my band

bullies his little brother into learning bass

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE is formed. main players are gerard, his brother mikey, and two guitar legends named frank iero and ray toro

gerard has since gone on record saying that the powerlessness he felt in watching an attack happen on american soil inspired him to create something. he could not just stand by and do nothing. he had to find a way to connect with people and overcome that fear.

together MCR releases their first record:

I BROUGHT YOU MY BULLETS, YOU BROUGHT ME YOUR LOVE

the only album that isn't particularly concepty. very Hardcore.

skylines and turnstiles was the first MCR song ever written, the first lyrics of which spell out the message the band so badly wanted to communicate-- "you're not in this alone."

the entirety of the song is about 9/11

the biggest throughline in bullets is complicated & toxic relationships, often using monsters like vampires and zombies as mataphors and motifs

"vampires are a standin for alcoholism" is kind of a reocurring thing in MCR lore as a whole

the one thing about this album that is pretty definite story-wise is the tale of the demolition lovers, highlighted in the last song on the album

the demo lovers are on the run from the authorities, likely in some sort of bonnie and clyde sitch. in the end, they are gunned down in the desert and die in each other's arms.

this final note leads into...

THREE CHEERS FOR SWEET REVENGE

it's 2004. MCR releases their second album, widely regarded now to be a cornerstone of the early 2000s scemo movement & aesthetic

black button downs with blood-red ties. red eyeshadow, nude lips, and THICK guyliner. catholicism.

you've seen it. i know you've seen it.

ignore the blonde guy back there.

three cheers chronicles the story of the demolition lovers. they are on the cover. you have seen them.

the man awakens in purgatory, searching for his lost lover. there, he meets the devil, who tells him that if he wants to reunite with her, he must bring him the soul of one thousand evil men.

Okay I Believe You.mp4

after all that killing, the man begins to lose sight of himself. he kills 999 evil men when the devil appears to him once more, and tells him that with all this blood on his hands, the last evil man he must kill is himself.

a few years pass. this album is a big hit with The Freaks but at the moment MCR are not exactly "big" outside of alt music circles. everything changes in 2006, but a little bit before that...

THE PARAMOUR MANSION

gerard fucking way, at this time severely mentally ill, believes wholeheartedly in suffering for ones art

posts the whole band up in a haunted mansion that has certifiably driven several past residents insane

gerard suffers from chronic nightmares in this mansion where he witnesses his loved ones dying over and over. he records himself recounting this and puts it in a song called sleep.

the band have designated "heavy rooms" where they scream and yell and cry and get out all their demons. gerard leaves deranged post it notes all over his. one of these notes reads "we are all a black parade"

mikey's mental health gets so bad in this place that he becomes violently suicidal and has to check himself into a clinic

allegedly, gerard writes "famous last words" about mikey's struggles.

before he leaves mikey is insane about a song they're working on called disenchanted. there are stories of him just whispering it into his bandmates' ears at night.

this whole experience just sucks for everyone, but unfortunately for me wishing better for them, we get one of the greatest rock albums of all time out of it.

THE BLACK PARADE

jesus fucking christ

chronicles the story of a dying cancer patient looking back on his life and realizing he was kind of an asshole.

he committed war crimes, drank his sorrows away, and treated his lover like shit.

as he lies there dying in his hospital bed he realizes he is burdened with regret and wants to redo everything and change.

a core tenet of this album is that death comes to you in the form of your fondest memory. THE BLACK PARADE is a manifestation of this--as you might have heard, when the patient was a young boy his father t

the parade he saw as a child returns to him, cloaked in black, and guides him toward the afterlife.

he maybe resists death and his allowed his second chance. up to you!

when MCR toured this show, they did not tour as MCR--they toured as The Black Parade. i was there. in 2007. they came on stage and said "we are the Black Parade."

remember this for later!

this tour was, i shit you not, a full theatrical performance unlike anything you would ever see in that era.

the album begins with the patient about to flatline. they wheel gerard out on a hospital gurney.

seriously, please watch this

youtube

just watch the first like minute if you don't wanna watch the whole thing. PLEASE.

you need to understand the above wasn't some special thing they did for this taped live show. they did this EVERY night. i saw this happen.

the show ended with huge amounts of black and white confetti falling from the ceiling, the same confetti from the music video for welcome to the black parade.

THEATRICS. i called gerard a cartoonist at the beginning of this writeup. but at this time he had also written and published an original comic no one besides MCR fans had heard of or read.

that is certainly not the case any longer.

point: gerard way is a storyteller. and it shows in this tour.

at the beginning of this era, gerard sheared his long beautiful hair short and dyed it platinum blonde to give off the effect of being sickly. the people who don't know them from the revenge era usually know them from this one.

you've most certainly heard the song that skyrocketed them to stardom. i don't know what else to say about it. it is lauded for a reason. i did not know at the time of it releasing that i would become an anthem of my childhood heart and soul, and a whole generation of misfit alt kids with scars on their wrists. but it is The MCR Song for a reason, and that is because it is definitive--dark, heavy, black-coated music... about how you cannot lay down and die, motherfucker. the world is hell! your heart will break! GET THE FUCK UP! FIGHT, YOU BASTARD! YOU HAVE TO FIGHT!

that is, above all else, what MCR writes music about. remember that.

rather unfairly, this is also around the time the media started painting them as a suicide cult brainwashing troubled teens into suicide and self harm.

the (sort of) last song on the black parade contains the lyrics "i am not afraid to keep on living."

here is my show last night singing those lyrics. you should listen. skip to 2:40 for the good part. i am there amongst the sea of voices, my whole body shaking with sobs as i struggle to get the words "i am not afraid to walk this world alone" out.

beyond the Concerned Parents, much of the rock scene rejected MCR due to their unabashedly authentic, earnest, and yes, emo selves. at the time, MCR could not be defined as emo--but emo would eventually reshape itself as a genre around them.

MCR was also unapologetically queer in a time where it was not safe to be so. gerard and frank would kiss with tongue on stage and wear makeup. gerard would sing about kissing men and wearing dresses. they are all married with wives and children, and while gerard is nonbinary himself, they've said time and time again that this weaponization of queerness was literally to get dudebro homophobes to leave their show.

these people would shout the f slur at gerard and he would limp his wrist and say thank you honey. it ruled. it was 2006, that was not something you did.

the biggest and most important culmination of the pushback that came with MCR's stardom is coincidentally my favourite post-reunion MCR performance of all time.

here, they play reading & leeds, where an incredibly rowdy crowd of hard rock, hypermasculine dudebro types throw rocks and bottles on stage the whole time. all the while, gerard smiles down at them like a playful trickster god on high, singing i wouldn't front the scene if you paid me and give me all your poison and you're running after something that you'll never kill and fire at will.

god.

eventually, they would officially "kill" the black parade (the band) off at a final show in mexico. this would lead into another tour where they played as themselves, titled "the black parade is dead!"

things go quiet for a few years. and then...

DANGER DAYS: THE TRUE LIVES OF THE FABULOUS KILLJOYS

gerard: please let me write a comic. i have to write a comic. i need to write a comic. i must write a comic.

gerard writes a comic, and everyone is cool with passing it off as a rock album.

CALIFORNIA: IN THE DISTANT FUTURE YEAR OF 2019. five years prior, the analog/helium wars decimated the landscape and shifted control into the hands of Better Living Industries (BLind for short) a dictatorship localized into the bounds of futuristic Battery City. resisting this monochromatic, controlling government are the Fabulous Killjoys: colourful outlaws in sick ass sentai costumes that roam the desert and fight for liberation.

the sound is completely different. gone are the emo/gothy undertones and romantic, dark aesthetics. we are punk rock as shit, now, and we're going to blow up the government.

gerard dyes his hair bright red. he does this a month after i do the same. that has nothing to do with the lore, it still just makes me lose my mind to this day.

asshole stealing my drip. we even had the same fucked up haircut.

anyways, here's where we are now:

the music videos tell a cohesive story. the album tells another one. a comic releases alongside it all, telling a third one. they all kinda sorta interpret the story in different ways, but it is still the most high concept and well-built world that MCR canon has. this era's aesthetic was so delicious that mentally ill transgenders on tumblr are still RPing it and writing fic to this day.

at this point, MCR reaches a strange kind of impasse where they are simultaneously at the peak of their career and less relevant than ever. they're entrenched in celebrity culture. mikey is cheating on his girlfriend. gerard is anorexic and drinking. shit's not the greatest.

at the same time, a lot of their former fans are not crazy about the new sound / aesthetic

an MCR song gets on glee. this is, in large part, considered The End for a lot of people.

US politics are important here: Obama's in office. things are looking up. the culture of the country is shifting. and that begs the question... why did the world need MCR?

the world needed MCR because the world was at war under a republican president. the world needed MCR because the twin towers fucking exploded into flames. the world needed MCR because the future was bleak and scary, and they had to do something. and they did something. and the something was done.

it was done.

it was over.

MARCH 23RD, 2013

It's over.

They break up.

They work their solo careers. They live their lives. They have kids. Gerard becomes a pretty legendary comics writer.

The end.

A year later, on an album containing some unreleased music / b sides, they release their final song, on an album titled May Death Never Stop You.

"Fake Your Death."

It's the only song MCR has ever written where the message could not more clearly be "Give up. It's done."

I choose defeat. I walk away.

I can't listen.

I don't listen.

It hurts too much.

Life goes on.

LIFE GOES ON

as gen z grow up and discover music, a beautiful second wave of my chem fans enter the space. overwhelmingly, we learn in time that MCR's greatness is not a product of the cultural moment or nostalgia--i begin to see hundreds of tiktoks of teenagers in the mid 2010s lamenting being born in the wrong generation because i missed seeing MCR live.

the elder emos comiscerate. the g note meme is born.

watch a couple compilations. notice how all the teenagers are wearing the same MCR shirt? that's because it was the ONLY official merch available for ages after they broke up. whenever i see that shirt, it's like an arrow in my heart. it's a signifier of someone who came in late, and there is nothing more beautiful than that to me. the music is good. intragenerationally, you understand that, too.

the way brothers have cited one of their biggest inspirations ever to be the smashing pumpkins. mikey went on record saying once that the smashing pumpkins is everything they wanted to be.

people begin to overthink this.

the timeline of the smashing pumpkins is as follows: they were together for 12 years, broke up for 6, and then got back together.

mcr was together... for 12 years.

if they got back together after a 6 year hiatus, the year would be... 2019.

2019, the year that the killjoys raised up their lasers toward the oppressive and fascistic government.

WHICH COULD MEAN NOTHING

2019.

45 begins his 3rd year in office.

This is, in case you didn't know, going very poorly.

Halloween. The MCR socials... change their pfp.

more symbols trickle in on their insta story. something is being teased/promoted. we expect it is likely just a re-release, or some more unreleased music, or a merch thing for the spooky season.

some people can't help remembering a little while back, though... when one of the jonas brothers said that he heard MCR rehearsing in the same venue as them. how odd that was, considering MCR broke up.

when frank was confronted about this, he rolled his eyes and answered in the same negative he always did, obviously tired of hearing it all these years.

"man, that rumour's like a broken clock."

YES. YES IT IS.

out of fucking NOWHERE, the MCR reunion is announced.

they do this on halloween night--when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. remember this.

i don't want to try to put into words what the energy of this show is like. all i can do is BEG you to watch the multicam cut of it. i am begging. i am pleading.

six long years of no MCR. six long years of new fans mourning what they didn't get.

and look. just LOOK at that sea of fingerless gloves and black t-shirts. look at that sea of people dressing like they did when they were teenagers, alongside teenagers who weren't there to see it but are now living their dreams of doing so.

look at gerard's dad getup. look at how much healthier and happier he looks. look at how overjoyed everyone is to be there.

the medley at the beginning. the curtain falling. im not okay (a secondary emo anthem to wttbp) heralding the dawn of a new era.

the audience chanting mikey's name as he plays the final bassline of the kids from yesterday.

ADDITIONAL LORE: MCR more or less always plays the same song for their encore--helena. this is because the last line of helena is meant to be their parting words to their audience, so long and goodnight.

they do not do this here. the final song they play, aptly saved for last, is welcome to the black parade.

the final words of which, are, of course

WE'LL CARRY ON

take a good look at gerard's california 2019 getup

any witch worth their salt will tell you that's a sigil on his arm. specifically, it's a witches' wheel, which can be translated.

the way a lot of witchcraft works is through intention. you put an intention to an object, and the magick flows through that intention.

when translated, this wheel spells out my chemical romance.

another part of spellcasting is the idea of 'charging' a spell. there are many ways to do this, depending on what you're trying to manifest, but to put a sigil on your body with a clear intention and wear it to a massive gathering of energy, like, say, a room full of people all singing the lyrics to that intention in perfect unison...

well. that's damn near ritualistic, in fact, i daresay it's...

A SUMMONING

after several smaller teasers throughout the week, the official MCR youtube releases this video. i will not explain it to you. i am demanding you watch it, given everything i have just explained.

youtube

this is the video that announced the reunion tour. a 13 minute long love letter to the fandom, told through the eyes of one of us. rife with easter eggs, theatrical as can be, and, most notably of all, ending with this:

the sigil, charged. glowing with energy from the fandom in that california venue, who used their passion and power to revive my chemical romance from the dead.

my chemical romance will tour in 2020. barring extenuating circumstances, there is nothing that will stop them from playing their music for us one more time.

YES THERE IS

it turns out being in a fascist government means that sometimes a deadly infectious disease will spread unmitigated and shut down the world.

it turns out that when the killjoys said "die with your mask on" they were a little too on the mark.

OKAY, REDO.

2022.

it is still not safe to go to concerts, but the world does not care about public health or disabled people, so they keep doing them anyways.

mcr reunites, and releases a new song called the foundations of decay. it could not more clearly be about their legacy.

the branding for the new tour is themed around this concept of decay and rot. flies specifically are a huge theme. before each show, the beating of fly wings in massive numbers echoes like static throughout the stage speakers. the fans collectively name this "the swarm"

what this tour lacks in cohesive theming it makes up for in sheer fun. gerard wears a different outfit every night. he does a lot of drag. they spraypaint messages on the drum head--some nonsense, some sentimental. you should watch the strange aeons video about this where she goes through all of them, as well as all the funny shit that happened on the tour.

youtube

the vibe of this reunion was very much 'let's have as much fucking fun as possible.'

it was. it was fun. and it was fun enough that they took all the money they earned from these massive reunion shows, put their heads together, and said let's fucking do it again.

PRESENT DAY: THE GLORIOUS NATION OF DRAAG

you are here.

randomly one day in november 2024, MCR announces A FUCKING STADIUM TOUR, appropriately named "long live the black parade"

curiously, the theming of this tour looks decidedly... not black paradey.

the strange, not-quite-russian lettering is a fucking conlang unique to this era. it starts showing up in all the various promotional videos they release.

"It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE”; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade. Long Live Draag"

here in the nation of Draag, the Grand Immortal Dictator has revived The Black Parade from the dead, forcing them to play their album in its entirety, wear their silly little outfits, play their silly little nostalgia anthems.

all the while, intending to use them as a mouthpiece for his pro-war, oppressive propaganda.

the stadium show is HIGH THEATRICS. only one venue knows the storyline of it so far!

LUCKILY FOR YOU I WAS THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

last night, me and 30 thousand other emos watched as the black parade danced for us, corpses reanimated. gerard shambled and slurred his way across the stage, all the while being watched like a hawk by an imposing government agent who handed him documents and told him what to say and do.

every audience member was given a sign that said yea or nay. at one point, we were asked to vote on if we should allow 4 new elected officials into the government.

the audience overwhelmingly voted yes. gerard commanded their execution, and they were shot on the b stage in front of us, their corpses dragged off by the MOAT.

throughout the setlist, the band begin to fight back. gerard resists the government in increasingly big ways, refusing to be their zombified mouthpiece. when this reaches a head, they pull the band off the jumbotron and start playing quiz shows and ads for groceries.

during mama, the curtain pulls back to reveal military tracking & specs. blueprints for a missile launch. the whole stage flashes red and begins to burn. new lyrics are added, and gerard presents the imposing suit man with a dagger.

during disenchanted--which had not been played live in 17 years--the stadium was bathed in a sea of blue light from fans taping paper to their phone flashlights in tribute to the underloved song. all the while, a Draag politician speaks of duty and justice and obligation to one's country.

we're taken to a launch station in the middle of a wheat field. as famous last words is playing, we watch the missile be fired.

the carnage that ensues is the sole background to a lone acoustic guitar that's been on stage the whole night, untouched. ray comes out and begins to play it, and it's hard to tell what it is at first until the rest of the band joins in--

an acoustic version of The End. the first track on the album, which we have already heard. it is a funeral procession, and gerard understandably always sings it bombastically and high-energy to welcome the audience. this time, his cadence is mournful and slow, desperate and wailing.

the show begins anew. we listen to the same song, once more.

the suit man has, for reasons unbeknownst to me, changed into a pierrot-looking clown costume. sensing resistance, he gives chase to gerard, who at this point in the song is singing the lyrics SAVE ME! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

all the while, there has been a chalk outline ominously carved out in the middle of the stage.

the clown and gerard fight. the dagger from before stabs gerard, punishing him for his insolence. bleeding out on hands and knees, he drags himself to the chalk outline, singing lyrics to another song--we'll carry on. We'll carry on.

he collapses into place, freed of the dictator's control, allowed to finally rest. the rest of the band members are dragged offstage by uniformed men. subversively, mikey--who has thus far been the kenny mccormick of MCR lore--escapes. ray is dragged off, shredding wildly the whole time. he refuses to stop playing until he cannot any longer.

the clown dances around to Blood, which is a hidden track that was at the end of the black parade. it is a perfect fucking song for a clown to dance to, especially when that clown is covered in the blood of the guy he just murdered. at the end of the song, he rips his shirt open to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest, and kills himself in a satisfying blaze of glory.

all the while, that same confetti from the original black parade tour is falling down around us all.

when i saw the black parade tour in 2007, i cannot explain how i knew this, but i had this feeling... they're holding back.

my father said to me that night, commit to memory everything you just saw here. you will never see anything like that again.

my dad was fucking wrong.

thanks for listening!

#wendy answers #Anonymous #my chemical romance #my chem #mcr #wendy rambles

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no-resolution · 2 days ago

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One of my least favorite tropes is a character who feels burdened by their power or general uniqueness losing their powers/becoming a normal human at the end of the story. I think that's part of why the ending of BTVS is so powerful to me.

Buffy has been doomed by the narrative for the whole show. She has a sacred destiny to be the protector of the world. This gives her great powers but also means that she can never live a normal life. She HAS to protect the world because she's the only one who can. She can't just give up because who else will do it? This is a burden that she carries and can only escape in death. Except that she can't even do that because she doesn't even stay dead.

Throughout the show, Buffy pushes against this role. She wants to be a normal girl. However, over the course of the show, she realizes that that isn't just impossible, but also not necessarily what she wants. She is the Slayer. That's a part of her, just as much as the quippy valley girl that wants a boyfriend and wants to be homecoming queen is. We see her slowly reconcile both parts of her personality through her trials and tribulations. She learns that being the Slayer can be fun, that she enjoys the kill, but that it doesn't make her a bad person just because she enjoys it. She's so full of light and love that it inspires others around her to be better people, too.

The show ends with Buffy not giving up being the Slayer, but by freeing herself from her fate by sharing her power with others. Now, she isn't the only Slayer in the world. She has a community of women that can help her bear the burden. If she wants to, Buffy could give up being the Slayer, but she can also still work to protect the world. She can do whatever she wants. She still has her power, but it doesn't rule her anymore. It sends a message of liberation through community, rather than liberation through changing yourself (as would have been the case if she had given up being the Slayer, in my opinion), which I think is much more uplifting and altogether healthier message to send to the audience.

#when i was like twelve i was obsessed w this book series where my fav character got powers but he hated having them. like every second of it #and his whole story was about finding his place in the world and learning to accept himself and finding some self confidence #and then at the end he just became human again and that was his happy ending and that just never sat right w me #i was thinking about how mad that made me and how much more satisfying i find stories like btvs #where the hero achieves self acceptance AND gets freed. you dont have to do one or the other. it can be both. she can be happy.#but the work that she put into finding her identity in the show still means something.#idk. maybe this doesn't make any sense. oh well.#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #btvs meta

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yogirl-willow · 22 hours ago

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The Crimson Pact | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Fingering, Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance.

A/N: Here's part 10! Thank you to everyone who sent over messages and comments. I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying my series. Plot rolls in the first half of this, and there is smut at the end. :) Next chapter will also have smut just because I didn't want to rush any of the moments once again. But the plot and conflicts will really get rolling from here. I hope you all enjoy this one!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 10:

Every Version of You

The bass thumped through the Huntrix penthouse, shaking the mirrored walls as Mira struck the next beat of the routine. Her cropped hoodie flew with each sharp turn, every kick hitting with fierce precision.

"One, two, spin, down—Rumi, Zoey, hit the arm combo together, please!" Mira barked.

Zoey huffed, brushing sweaty bangs from her forehead. "You're acting like we're going to war."

“We are,” Mira snapped. “This is Takedown, remember? Demon-dissing choreo has to be sharp. Idol Awards are in a few days. We’re not just performing—we’re making a statement.”

Rumi held her pose, chest heaving. Sweat dripped down her temple. “It’s just... hard to focus with everything going on.” She flopped onto the couch dramatically. “Speaking of which... has she replied yet?”

Mira paused, lowering her arms slowly. “Did she see your message?”

“She read it,” Zoey murmured, checking her phone. “No reply though.”

Mira exhaled sharply, arms crossed. “So she’s alive, at least.”

“Or...” Zoey’s voice trembled. “What if they just have her phone? What if she’s being controlled? Or trapped? What if she’s being held hostage?!”

Mira’s fists clenched. “If they’re keeping a human hostage—”

Zoey added, horrified, “What if they’re doing horrible things to her—”

“Oh, I think she might enjoy that...” Rumi muttered under her breath.

Both heads snapped toward her. “What was that?” Mira asked sharply.

“Nothing!” Rumi said quickly, brushing hair behind her ear. “Just... we don’t know the whole story.”

Zoey frowned, concern dark in her eyes. “Do you really think she’s okay?”

Rumi looked away. “Look... based on what we saw—they were protective. Obsessively, even.”

“That could be an act,” Mira snapped. “Demons don’t feel. They mimic. That’s how they manipulate humans.”

“You don’t know that.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. “Why are you defending them?”

“I’m not—” Rumi said, too quickly. “I just think... maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

The silence that followed was thick and tense. Zoey looked between her two friends, biting her lip in apprehension. “Okay, okay, let’s chill,” she said, forcing a weak smile. “How about we call it a day? Tomorrow we can try tracking her—maybe check traffic cams near her café?”

“She hasn’t been to her café,” Mira said coldly. “It’s closed. And her apartment? Empty for weeks. What else do you need? She’s with those demons.”

Then, quieter, sharper: “What if she knows?”

Rumi’s stomach twisted.

“What if she knows what they are—and still stays with them?”

Rumi didn’t answer. Maybe… she does know. Really know what they are, and yet… chooses to stay?

The girls filtered off to their rooms, tension unresolved. Mira’s footsteps were sharp and angry, Zoey’s slow and tired. But Rumi stayed.

She remained seated on the floor of the practice studio, knees curled to her chest, the city glowing behind her through the glass. Her muscles ached from hours of choreography, but her mind refused to quiet.

She could still hear Jinu’s voice. "We’re soulbonded."

There was something in the way he said it. Not just conviction, but reverence. Like the word meant more than the world itself. Like the bond wasn’t just real—it was sacred. And the others? The way they looked at you, hovered near you, protected you like something precious? It wasn’t just possession.

It was devotion. And maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Mira was right…

But Rumi couldn’t stop wondering: What if it wasn’t? What if demons could feel something that deep? That powerful?

What if… her father had felt it too?

The thought hit her harder than expected. It had been something she tried to brush off for days now, ever since Jinu had told her about the soulbond. She’d never known her parents. Just flashes in half-dreams and a handful of secondhand memories from Celine. But now, watching the way you looked at the boys—and how they looked at you—it stirred something in her chest.

Something unshaped. Undefined. Longing, maybe. Or just the ache of not knowing. Could her mother have loved like that? Could she have fought for something that impossible?

Rumi exhaled shakily and rubbed her arms, feeling the faint, cursed heat of her demon marks just beneath her skin. They had always marked her as different. Not enough of one thing. Too much of another. A walking half-truth Celine refused to explain.

She had tried asking before. Dozens of times. What was my mother like? Why did she fall in love with a demon? Who was he? Each time was met with silence. Each time: “You don’t need to know.”

But now Rumi did. She needed to know. Not just for herself. But for what was coming.

If you were really soulbonded to demons… If a bond that powerful could change the rules, rewrite the laws they’d lived under their entire lives— Maybe her parents had tried too. Maybe there was something they left behind.

And what if… that soulbond was somehow tied to their demise. She had to know- is that the same fate that awaited Jinu? The same fate that awaited you?

She stood slowly and walked to her bedroom closet, where a weathered duffel bag lay tucked behind rows of performance shoes. From its inner lining, she retrieved a small brass key—one she had stolen years ago from Celine’s drawer, hidden away on instinct. The key to a locked chest in her old childhood home. The one Celine had told her never to open.

Rumi stared at the key for a long moment. Then, she curled her fingers around it and whispered to the empty room:

“I’m sorry, Celine. But I need the truth.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The scent of sesame oil and gochugaru fills the air, warm and rich, as you perch on the edge of the kitchen island in Haneul’s oversized shirt, your bare legs swinging gently. Haneul hums quietly as he moves through the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, muscles still slick from earlier, now focused as he stirs a steaming pot.

“Kimchi jjigae tonight,” he says proudly, ladling a bit into a spoon and holding it up to your lips. “Taste this for me?”

You lean forward, letting him feed you. It’s spicy and savory, exactly how you like it. “Mmm. That’s perfect.”

“Perfect’s what you are,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His voice lowers, brushing with something more carnal. “I still haven’t recovered from earlier, y’know.”

You flush. “You’re not supposed to say that while cooking.”

“I can multitask,” he smirks.

Just then, a pair of warm hands glide around your bare thighs. You jump slightly as Seungho presses a kiss to your cheek from the side. He was shirtless, leaving his lean muscles out for you to admire. For someone who’s nicknamed “Baby”, he sure didn’t look it when he was dressed like this without the sweaters.

He slides between your knees, gaze half-lidded, teasing. “God, you look good like this,” he murmurs. “One of our shirts, no shame… You trying to kill me, baby?”

Your hand goes to push him away, but your smirk betrays you. “Just sitting here.”

“Yeah, and I’m just breathing,” he deadpans, “but apparently that’s a sin too.” His hand squeezes your thigh. “Keep testing me and see what happens.”

You giggle, clearly not sorry. Before he can get carried away, the front door bursts open.

“We’re home!” Seoha’s voice sings.

You hop off the counter just in time for Jinu’s arms to catch you mid-run. He pulls you into him like he hasn’t seen you in weeks, burying his face into your neck. “Missed you, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

Seoha’s next, sweeping you up and spinning you dramatically before peppering your face with kisses—forehead, nose, cheeks. “I nearly died from missing you,” he sighs, as if wounded. “I considered throwing myself into traffic.”

“Dramatic as always,” you roll your eyes, laughing.

“And yet you keep coming back to me,” he says smugly, carrying you bridal-style back to the kitchen. Seungho is already setting the table, now with a shirt on. Seoha plops down and keeps you seated firmly on his lap.

“So,” you ask, “what were you guys out doing?”

“Logistics,” Jinu replies. “Stage cues, wardrobe adjustments, dealing with sponsors. Idol Awards are in a few days.”

You blink. “It’s that soon?”

Haneul sets down a plate in front of you—steaming rice, kimchi jjigae, marinated beef, banchan laid out lovingly. You try to shift to your own seat, but Seoha tightens his arms around you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers into your ear, voice low and territorial. “Not after being away from me all day.”

Your face heats as you squirm in his hold. “Where’s Hwimori?” you ask, trying to redirect the attention.

“Studio,” Seungho says, grabbing another pair of chopsticks. “Hasn’t left it since noon.”

“He’s still working?” You frown. “He hasn’t eaten?”

“He never eats when he’s focused,” Jinu sighs. “Like a damn wolf on a hunt.”

Moments later, Hwimori finally comes down. His hair’s tousled, shirt inside-out. He pads over silently, bending to kiss the top of your head. You soften at the gesture. “You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”

He looks at you, startled. Then grins. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” you scold lightly. “Sit. Eat.”

His gaze dips to your hands as he picks them up to press soft kisses across your knuckles. “Your care for me is more filling than any meal, Y/N,” he murmurs, almost bashful—except for the glint of heat in his eyes.

You blush, looking away. "You say the creepiest sweet things..."

Dinner begins. Laughter, gentle clinks of chopsticks. They argue over which brand of soju is superior. Seoha tries to spoon-feed you until Jinu takes over with more finesse. Seungho complains, “You’re all obsessed,” to which they all agree.

“You are too,” Haneul deadpans.

You ask casually, “So what song are you performing for the Idol Awards?”

Hwimori looks up from his bowl. “It’s a new one. I’m halfway done with the mix.”

“Ooh, can I hear it?”

A pause. Their reactions don’t match your enthusiasm. “It’s not finished yet,” Seoha says quickly.

“You’ll hear it soon,” Jinu adds with a reassuring smile.

Your brow furrows—but you brush it off. Hwimori leans over to you. “Come to the studio after dinner,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

You nod, heart skipping a little.

The kitchen is filled with the comforting clatter of chopsticks and soft laughter, the scent of kimchi jjigae still thick in the air. You’re tucked on Seoha’s lap all throughout, your legs curled beneath you, a half-eaten spoonful paused in your hand as you watch the boys move through their dinner routine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jinu reaches across Haneul’s plate to steal a piece of beef. Haneul slaps his hand away without looking up.

Seoha rests his chin on your shoulder and softly nuzzles into your skin, murmuring, “You’re my favorite side dish.”

Seungho groans. “You’re disgusting.”

They argue. They tease. Hwimori eats quietly at the edge of the table, chopsticks in one hand, notebook beside him, already jotting lyrics and notes between bites. No one tells him to stop. No one complains that he’s multitasking again. You chew slowly, eyes drifting between them. And then you stop eating.

Something about this moment… it feels too good. Too quiet. Too normal. You set your spoon down and lean back slightly into Seoha’s chest, gaze flicking toward the warm kitchen light above the table. It bathes the boys in gold—catching on the edge of Hwi’s silver earring, the subtle curl of Jinu’s ink-black hair, the sweat still lingering on Haneul’s collarbone.

And you think— “This doesn’t look like a house full of demons.”

It looks like a home.

You glance at the sink, where Haneul now rinses a pot. Jinu has a towel draped over one shoulder as he air-dries dishes. Seoha’s rubbing a spot on your ankle like it soothes something in him just to touch you. And Seungho is yelling at the rice cooker as if it’s personally offended him.

You close your eyes for a moment and listen to the mundane sounds of it all—water running, footsteps padding on the floor, laughter, the scrape of porcelain. ‘Is this real?’ you think. ‘Or is this… something they’ve created for me? Something they’re maintaining so I don’t run?’

You remember what they said. How they’d waited lifetimes. How they knew you from before. How they love you, need you, worship you. But you also remember how you woke up here. The pain. The fear. The sheer loss of control.

‘They say they love me. But do they love me? Or the version of me they’ve carried for centuries?’

You swallow, suddenly unsure of your own heartbeat. The soulbond pulls tight in your chest like thread wound too firmly around your ribs. You can feel each of them—every glance, every flicker of emotion—and it’s overwhelming how much they feel. For you. But…

‘What if they’re just in love with the memory of me? With someone I don’t even remember being?’

You think of your past lives. The fragments that flicker in your dreams. A hand in yours. A kiss in the dark. Blood. Fire. Death. Always ending in death.

‘Do I even have a choice in all of this? Or is fate choosing for me?’

You open your eyes again and see Jinu watching you. Noticing. As always. His expression softens as your eyes meet. He doesn’t say anything, just sends you a smile that feels like it was forged in a lifetime of waiting. One that says, ‘We see you.’

Your chest tightens. Because you know what you're afraid to admit: ‘They make me feel safe. Even when they shouldn’t. Even when I know what they are.’

And still… Am I just playing a role? Or is this… actually love?

Your fingers brush your thigh, grounding yourself. Seoha murmurs something into your hair, and Haneul walks by and drops a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. Seungho brushes his fingers across your lower back in passing, almost unconsciously. They touch you like they need to make sure you’re still here.

And in that moment, you don’t have an answer. But you want to believe. You want this to be real. And maybe… just maybe…

You already do.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hwimori pause in the hallway. His fingers tap the doorframe, hesitant. His voice is soft, almost shy. “You coming?”

You blink up at him. His golden eyes catch the light. And just like that, the ache eases. “Yes,” you whisper. “I’m coming.”

His fingers find yours before you’ve even stepped into the hallway. Delicately, he laces your fingers together like he’s memorizing the shape of them, then brings your joined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles as you walk, eyes still fixed ahead. You swear you feel something in your chest flutter and curl at the gesture—quiet, unassuming, and completely devastating.

You don’t say anything. You just follow him.

Hwimori leads you gently through the dim apartment, the distant sound of dishes and laughter fading behind you. The studio door opens with a soft click, and the scent of sound foam and something faintly like cedar greets you. Inside, the room glows with a soft blue light from a large curved monitor, its screen filled with waveforms and sound levels. There’s a single black desk chair facing the setup, and handwritten notes scattered across the desk—some in Korean, some in English, a few in what looks like ancient runes.

He sits first, pulling you without a word into his lap. You settle there, curling comfortably against him, thighs warm over his, his hand never leaving your waist.

“This is where you work?” you murmur.

He nods against your shoulder. “Mhm.”

Your eyes roam across the workspace. “And this is where the magic happens?”

Hwimori hums again, the softest smile pulling at his lips. “Kind of. Jinu writes most of the lyrics. I handle the production, mixing, layering. Sometimes I add vocals.” He reaches to adjust a dial, the screen blinking in response. “This one’s still a work-in-progress.”

You tilt your head, reading the title scrawled in the corner of the page next to the monitor. “Your Idol.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Ominous.”

He gives a sheepish shrug. “Did you want to hear a little of it? I haven’t added in the final vocals yet.”

You grin. “Aren’t you cutting it a little close for the Idol Awards?”

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture is tender—unconsciously so. “We’ll be singing live,” he murmurs. “This is just the backing track.”

You hum in understanding, but your eyes linger on his face. He’s usually so quiet, almost shadow-like. But in this space, surrounded by his work, his music, his presence feels different. Grounded. Whole.

He reaches behind you and gently lifts a pair of large over-ear headphones. “Here,” he says, placing them carefully over your ears. The size swallows your head a little, and you catch him smiling as he adjusts them.

“What?” you ask, your voice muffled.

He chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your nose. “You just look so cute.”

Your cheeks heat instantly, and you shift in his lap—just slightly. He doesn’t let you move far. His hands settle more firmly on your waist as he hits play. The first sound is a whisper.

Dies irae Illa…

A chant. Ethereal. Latin. So far removed from the sparkly, bubblegum tones of Soda Pop that it doesn’t even feel like the same group.

The low rumble of a bass begins to rise beneath the vocals. Haunting. Slow. Then the drop hits—hard, distorted, angry. Layers of eerie harmonies weave in and out, and a new pulse sets the rhythm. It's darker, heavier… yet oddly beautiful.

Your spine straightens instinctively. This doesn’t feel like an idol song. It feels like a warning.

After a minute or two, you carefully lift the headphones off, holding them in your lap as the silence returns to the studio. “It sounds… so different,” you say, your voice small.

Hwimori nods, looking straight ahead, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Jinu wanted to try something new.”

“Are you guys rebranding?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just hums quietly. “Something like that.”

You look at him then—really look.

Under the low studio light, his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his bangs fall over his eyes in a silky curtain. You can’t help but reach up, brushing the corner of his hair. His eyes widen slightly, but he lets you. Your fingers tuck some strands behind his ears, revealing more of the amber in his gaze—molten, unblinking, completely focused on you. “You’re beautiful, Hwimori,” you whisper.

He exhales like you’ve struck something inside him.

Then—without a word—he buries his head against your chest, arms wrapping around your back as if he can’t bear a second more of not being as close as possible. You feel his breath stutter. Feel the silent emotion he doesn’t know how to say.

You stay there, letting the music fade behind you, and hold him like he’s always been yours. Neither of you speak for a long while. Just the soft whir of the monitor, the warm hush of breath between you. There’s a peace in it—a rare kind. But even in the quiet, something lingers. A hum beneath your skin. And he feels it too.

“I felt it,” Hwimori murmurs, voice muffled into the fabric of your shirt. “At dinner.”

You blink, confused.

“The way your heart pulled,” he clarifies, lifting his head slowly to look at you. His eyes are searching, soft. “You felt uneasy.”

You stiffen. There’s no use denying it—not to him. He sees right through you, like he always has. You look away, but his hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin, coaxing you back to him. You turn your gaze slowly, and he’s already watching you like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed to see.

“You were quiet for a little bit,” he says. “But not the kind of quiet you get when you’re sleepy or full. It was the kind that hurts.”

You flinch. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so, so right. You don’t answer, and you don’t need to. Hwimori’s fingers gently reach for your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear. His touch is impossibly tender. His gaze steady and warm.

“You’ve always been like that,” he says softly. “Since before you knew my name.”

You tilt your head.

“There was one night,” he continues. “From a long time ago. You were just a girl in a little village, taking care of too many people with too little help.”

A memory stirs. Familiar but distant. “It was after a long storm,” Hwimori says, voice laced with something warm. “Your roof leaked. The firewood got soaked. You’d spent all day patching it up with your bare hands, and you still went to the river to wash your siblings’ blankets by moonlight.”

You suck in a soft breath. He hadn’t been visible then. But he’d seen.

“I followed you there, like I always did. And you were singing to yourself, – albeit, a little off-key,” he chuckles, and you huff a soft laugh. “You were humming just to stay awake. Kneeling in the freezing water, shivering, hands raw. I could tell you were exhausted. Your voice was shaking.”

He pauses, as if savoring the memory. “And then a rabbit came to you. It was limping. Barely able to move. I thought you’d ignore it—you had enough to worry about. But you just… stopped everything. You dropped the blanket, picked up the rabbit, and tucked it in your coat.”

Your throat tightens. “You stayed like that, holding it. Rocking it. Whispering, ‘You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,’ like it was your own child.”

His voice drops to a whisper. “That’s when I knew,” he says. “That you had the gentlest heart I’d ever seen. Even after everything life had done to you, your instinct was still to love. To care. Even when you had nothing left.”

You can’t breathe for a moment. He presses his forehead against yours. “You made me want to be something more. Something that could hold you. Protect you. Stay beside you. That was the first night I had ever desired to be more. To be felt. So I could feel you.”

You don’t realize tears have welled in your eyes until he brushes them away with the soft pad of his thumb. Hwi’s words hang in the air like the final note of a love song — quiet, aching. His eyes shimmer, blinking slowly beneath your gentle touch.

You stare at him, overwhelmed. And then… The doubt creeps in again. It’s a quiet voice, but sharp. Your fingers still on his cheeks.

“What if…” your voice cracks slightly. “What if that wasn’t me?”

He blinks.

“What if the girl you saw that night—the one who rocked a dying rabbit to sleep—was someone else? Someone better? I might be her soul, but I’m not her. I don’t remember that life. I don’t sing at the river. I haven’t—haven’t done anything like that. I’m not soft like she was. What if you’re feeling all these things for someone that doesn’t exist anymore?”

Your heart aches at the words. And you hate that you mean them. You try to look away, but he catches your chin—gently, like a thread of silk. He doesn’t force you to meet his gaze. Just holds you still, holds you softly.

And he whispers: “But you are her.” His thumb brushes your cheek. “You’re the same soul who reached for a broken thing instead of turning away. You’re the same heart that gave kindness without needing a reason. You still do. Every single day.”

You tremble slightly, lips parting. But he isn’t finished. “I didn’t fall in love with a girl who sang to the river. I fell in love with the soul that chose to love, even when it hurt. Even now—when you could hate us, when you should be afraid—you still sit here with your arms around a demon and ask if your love is real.”

He leans in slowly, forehead pressed to yours, and his voice drops lower.

“That’s you. That’s always been you. No matter how many lives we live. I’ll always know you. Even if the world forgets. I’ll know your soul, and how it calls for me. And I will always answer.”

Tears blur your vision as you swallow hard. He smiles softly—barely there, but achingly real. “You could cut your hair, pick up new hobbies, forget how to sing, fall in love with different books, dress differently, dream new dreams…”

His voice lowers, “And I would still find ways to love every version of you. Every change. Every chapter. Because it’s still you. Your soul is eternal. And I was made to follow it.”

His thumb brushes away a tear that slips down your cheek. “That’s what love is, isn’t it? Not clinging to who someone was—but choosing them again and again, as they become. I’ve done it for centuries. And I’ll do it for as many more as you’ll let me.”

And then he whispers—almost breathlessly— “My name is Hwimori… because I needed a name to worship you with. It’s the name you gave me. As long as you call me, I will always answer. In every life.”

You break, tears fully running now. Your heart hurts in the most beautiful way — with the kind of love that makes your whole body ache. A sound escapes you- half sob, half chuckle in disbelief. It was almost unreal, the love they had for you. The love Hwimori had for you. The love you were starting to remember you had for him, and the love that was growing rapidly in your chest for all of them.

“You say the most beautiful things…” You say breathily, hands wiping away your tears. You reach for him again. His face. His eyes. You unclip your hairpin and clip his bangs back fully, needing to see all of him, this creature made of devotion.

His eyes are breathtaking. Violet and gold and amber, like the inside of a star. Lashes long, silver, like dust spun from moonlight. And all of it—all of him—was made for you. This soulbeast became a man just to stay by my side.

Your loyal, wild-hearted creature. The one who never asked for anything but to be near you. Your lips brush over his eyelids. He shudders. A soft, needy sound escapes him—barely a breath.

You kiss the other. He exhales like he’s letting go of centuries of longing. Then his nose. His cheeks. His jaw. And when your lips finally meet his— He melts.

He melts into you like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed. The only warmth he’s ever known. The bond between you hums, low and deep, like a drumbeat just beneath your ribs. And in his kiss, there is nothing but truth.

It starts slow. Hwimori kisses you like a creature in worship, his lips brushing yours in soft, fleeting touches. Then he deepens it, and it changes. Desperation curls at the edges. His tongue traces your bottom lip before claiming your mouth fully, and you feel it—his need, his hunger, his aching loyalty.

Like a beast starved, yet patient. Like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the taste, the scent. His hands glide along your hips, pulling you tighter against him. You gasp slightly as you feel the heat of his arousal press up beneath you through his clothes. Your thighs clench instinctively.

You shift in his lap, just enough to grind against him—slowly, deliberately. His breath catches, and a low whimper escapes his throat, sharp and broken.

“Ah… d–don’t do that,” he pleads, his voice ragged. His fingers clench at your hips, claws nearly unsheathing. “You don’t know what you’re waking up in me, my love…”

Your eyes glint with a teasing defiance. So you do it again.

And he breaks.

With a growl, Hwimori stands in one smooth motion, lifting you effortlessly. You squeal softly in surprise but he doesn’t release your lips—not for a second. He walks you across the studio and lowers onto the velvet couch with you straddling him, breath hot and wild. His hands roam beneath your shirt, sliding up your back as he kisses you harder—possessive, trembling with restraint.

“Is that what you want?” he growls softly. “To see what I become when I stop pretending to be tame?”

───────── SMUT ─────────

He lifts your shirt in one motion, leaving you bare save for the thin fabric of your panties. His breath hitches as he looks at you—chest rising, flushed, vulnerable. Worshipful silence falls over him for just a second. His gaze travels up—devouring you slowly—and when your eyes meet, it nearly steals the air from your lungs.

There’s nothing human in his expression. Just awe. Hunger. Adoration so intense it borders on unhinged. His hands grip your thighs, fingers trailing up, rough and hot all at once. “You’re mine,” he breathes—low, almost like a growl against your skin. “You’re my soul. My everything. The reason I even have this form.”

You lean forward to kiss his neck, pressing soft kisses against his pulse. You couldn’t help yourself. Not when his face looked like that. Flushed, needy, and oh so beautiful you could combust. He shudders beneath you.

Your hands slide beneath his shirt, fingertips brushing his skin. He moans—a raw, choked sound—and you feel the muscles of his torso tense beneath your touch. You peel the fabric off him slowly, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and arms, and your breath catches at how perfectly carved he is. Like a statue built to guard you.

You kiss down his chest, lips leaving warm trails as his hands grip yours tightly, long fingers intertwined with your own. He trembles beneath your mouth.

“I love it when you touch me like that,” he murmurs, breath shaky. “It makes my skin sing. Makes my heart believe I’m not dreaming you.”

You feel him twitch beneath you as your hips move again, wetness pooling between your legs. Your mouth curls into a sly smirk. “Lucky for you, I can make those dreams into a reality.”

He groans at your teasing, eyes alight with fire. His mouth finds your neck, biting softly—claiming. You gasp as you feel his fingers trace the line of your damp panties. He groans, “You’re soaking. Just from my voice? My fingers?” His voice dips into a snarl, “This little body is desperate for me, huh? You were made to take me.”

The sound of his voice, so heavy and laced with desire almost makes you cream. You nod obediently, bottom lip captured beneath your teeth. “Uh huh,” you mutter faintly.

He slides your panties to the side and growls low in his throat as he feels how wet you are for him. His fingers glide through your folds before slowly sinking one inside you. You cry out softly at the sudden stretch, clutching onto his shoulders.

“So tight,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours. “Always so tight for me. You let me in so easily… like your body already knows me.”

A second finger joins the first, and he begins a slow, precise rhythm, watching your every expression like he’s memorizing your ruin. His thumb brushes your clit, and your body jolts in response.

“Hwi,” you moan, kissing his temple as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. “It feels so good. You feel so good-”

He growls in satisfaction, your name leaves his lips like a prayer—hoarse, wild. “I can feel you through the bond,” he gasps. “Every pulse, every squeeze—fuck, it echoes in me—I’m going insane with it—”

Your walls tighten around his fingers, your breath stuttering. You grip his hair and moan into his mouth as he kisses you through it, slow and deep and so loving it aches. And when you come undone, trembling, pulsing around his fingers—he kisses you like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is oxygen. Like he feels the intensity of your undoing.

He pulls back only when your body softens against him, watching you pant and tremble in his lap. Then, without a word and without tearing his eyes off yours, you watch as he raises his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean—moaning low, possessive heat flashing in his eyes.

“Every drop of you is mine,” he growls, licking the corner of his lips. “You taste like spiritfire. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and could never reach—until you let me.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you. Endless heat pooling at your core. For him. A sudden idea pops into your head. You barely recover before you lean forward, lips brushing his neck, your hand drifting low with intent. He freezes as your fingers brush his waistband.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice husky, breathless.

You smile softly, gaze heated. “You’ve tasted me,” you whisper. “Isn’t it only fair I get to taste you?”

His eyes go wide. “My love… you don’t have to—”

You kiss his neck, then down his torso, across his abdomen until you plant a kiss on his hipbone and feel him twitch. “I want to,” you say. “Let me give you a preview of your birthday gift…”

He groans, head falling back as your fingers slide beneath his waistband, breath shuddering with anticipation. Your fingers wrap around him—thick, flushed, twitching with need—and stroke him once, slow.

Hwimori’s head snaps back. A breathless moan rips from his throat, desperate and shaking.

“Gods—your hands,” he pants. “Soft… warm… like they were made just to touch me…”

You pull the waistband of his shorts and his cock springs free. Hot and huge against your face. Hwi looks down at the sight of you kneeling before him in awe. Watching how you look so pretty next to his aching shaft. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear lovingly.

You stare at his member before you, albeit a little bit intimidated as there’s no way that’s all going to fit in your mouth. As if he could read your mind he says gently, “You don’t have to baby. You can just take what you can, or even-”

His sentence it cut short as you lean in, tongue trailing up his length in one long, slow stroke—and he chokes on a groan so wrecked it echoes in your chest. “F-fuck—” His thighs jerk beneath you. His claws tear faintly into the couch cushions, muscles trembling. “Baby, don’t—don’t tease me like that—”

But you do. Again.

Your tongue trails ever so slowly from the thick base all the way to the tip, swirling around the head of his shaft. Hwi’s head tilts back in pleasure, a helpless groan escapes him as he clutches his hands tight against the couch.

You look up at him through your lashes prettily, “But it’s so fun seeing you like this, Hwi…”

Your fingers flutter against the base and corners of him and it has him bucking his hips in desperation. Now you understood why they liked seeing you beg so much… this kind of power was something you could get drunk with. And seeing Hwi’s desperate reactions, how crazy you’re making him right now, was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

"Fuck baby you're driving me crazy," he groans, “My love, please—”

You take him into your mouth—his tip brushing the back of your tongue—and he gasps. His whole body tenses under your touch. Then he breaks.

A cry, ragged and raw. His hands fly to your hair, trembling fingers carding through the strands, gently cradling the back of your head like you’re something sacred. “Fuck,” he groans at the feel of your hot mouth wrapped around him. He’s never felt this kind of pleasure before in his life, and it was driving him absolutely mad.

His hips buck just slightly—restrained. Worshipful. Still trying to hold himself back for you. He was quite girthy, so you took what you could in your mouth and used your hands to cover the rest. Your fingers wrapped around him, twisting in opposite directions.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he breathes, voice barely coherent. “You’re too much—I can feel everything—every flick of your tongue, every sound you make—gods, your mouth is heaven—”

You suck gently, cheeks hollowed, lips slick around him—and he keens, hands trembling. His body begins to shimmer. Veins glowing faintly beneath his skin. Ethereal demon markings pulse along his torso, crawling upward like wildfire. His beast is showing. His restraint, unraveling.

“You’re not just touching my body,” he gasps. “You’re inside my soul. I can feel it—every moan you make, I feel it in me, like I’m the one falling apart—fuck, baby—please—”

He thrusts gently into your mouth, hips rocking upward with a soft growl. The sounds he makes—raw, primal, completely lost in you—only make you want to worship him more. His hands are tangled in your hair, pushing you down gently to take more of him. You loved the sounds he was making. You loved how good you were making him feel. You look up at him from under your lashes and moan at the sight.

His face, flushed with heat and eyes hot with desire, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like he’s careful not to break you but also holding himself back from thrusting in too deep into your mouth. He looked like you were undoing him from the inside out. You moan at the beautiful sight of him and he tips his head back hotly at the vibrations wrapped around him.

But then—his grip suddenly tightens, trembling.

“Stop—baby, stop—” he whimpers. “I’m gonna cum—gods—I can’t—”

He pulls you off with a wet gasp, eyes wide, chest heaving, cock glistening in the low light. He’s panting. Shaking. Eyes blown wide with lust and love and awe. You’re confused for a moment, a quick flash of insecurity rushes through you. Did he not like it—

“I need to be inside you,” he says, voice hoarse. “Now. I need it—I need you. Please—please—”

Oh.

He pulls you into his lap again, cradling you like you’re fragile. His face was filled with need and so much yearning. He wanted– no, needed you wrapped around him. Badly.

You smile slightly. He was so cute like this, and so hot. You shift on top of him. His hands fly to your ass, desperate and needy. You tilt his head up. Eyes molten pools of gold and violet. And without breaking eye contact, you line him up beneath you, and slowly, slowly, you sink down onto him.

And it shatters him.

Hwimori moans—loud and aching—head falling back, mouth open in a soundless cry. His claws dig into your hips like anchors, and his whole body trembles. You look at him, mouth parted slightly at the huge stretch of him sinking deeper into you. You moan and whimper at the feeling.

“You’re so warm—tight—fuck, I can feel your soul—” he gasps, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His hands guide your hips lower, sinking himself deeper inside you. You feel as if there was no end. Every inch sinks in deliciously with a stretch, reaching places within you so deep it almost has you seeing stars.

You both grunt as he bottoms out, your head sinking into his shoulder as he stills inside you, allowing you to accommodate the sheer size of him.

“You feel incredible – fuck.” The last word is broken, shattered.

You start to move—slow, deliberate—rocking your hips against him with sensual grace. He gasps softly at the friction, hands tightening on your waist like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Then his eyes meet yours. Wide. Wild. Awestruck. Shining like he’s beholding something holy. “You’re inside me too,” he whispers, voice trembling. “Every part of you… your heart, your voice… it’s echoing in my chest—I can feel you in my soul…”

“Really?” you breathe, stunned by the depth of it and his connection with you. Your body trembles. He nods, mouth parted, lips pink and kiss-swollen. “It’s like the bond has no beginning or end. Just you… burning in me.”

You lift your hips—slow, torturous. His cock drags along your walls and you feel him twitch inside you, thick and hot and pulsing. Then you drop your hips again, taking him deep—and he moans. It vibrates through both your chests, your moan echoing right after, the soulbond creating a perfect feedback loop of heat and pleasure.

You start to ride him—slow at first, letting him feel every wet drag of your walls. His hands explore you like he’s mapping the surface of a dream. They roam up your thighs, over your hips, along the delicate curve of your spine. He cups the back of your head with one palm, the other pressing into the small of your back as if he could hold your soul there forever.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs through gasps. “So powerful. So fucking mine.”

You roll your hips harder, drawing circles with your pelvis—and his eyes flutter, his body arching up into yours. Then you lean close, kiss his throat, and moan his name softly into his skin.

And it breaks him.

With a snarl, his hands shoot to your waist. He growls—a deep, primal sound—and in one quick, fluid movement, he flips you.

You barely register the shift before you’re on your hands and knees, breath caught in your throat, his chest behind you, his cock pressed at your entrance from behind—hard, throbbing, wild with need. And then he drives into you.

Hard.

You cry out, hands fisting in the cushions for support as his cock spears deep, reaching places unknown in this new position. The sheer force of his thrust makes you jolt forward—only for his arms to pull you back again, anchoring you against him.

He finds his rhythm. Deep. Powerful. Devastating. Like an beast on a mission to claim.

“Your scent,” he pants, voice guttural, animal. “Your voice—your fucking moans— they make me crazy. I want you messy. I want you needy. I want you like this every day.”

He’s slamming into you now, sweat-slick and burning hot. You cry out as his hips meet yours with obscene sounds, your skin echoing against his like drums to some ancient mating rhythm. His demon patterns were on full display now, no longer able to hold back any longer his primal urge to mark you, to claim you.

You arch back into him, sobbing out his name again and again—and it shreds what little restraint he had left.

He growls, fangs bared, and pushes your chest down flat into the velvet. Your cheek rests against the cushion, stomach flat against the couch, hips raised high as he looms over you, his weight pressing your back flat with his own.

Now he’s fucking you in earnest. Hard. Fast. Possessed. His lips drag across your spine, fangs grazing the curve of your shoulder. Your cries are muffled against the cushions. His nose presses into the crook of your neck, inhaling you like it’s all he needs to live.

“You were made for this,” he snarls, breath shaking. “To be mine. To take me—all of me. Gods, you fit me so perfectly. So fucking perfectly—”

Your moans crack into gasps, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity. “Yours,” you mumble, almost deleriously against the velvet. “I’m yours, Hwi-”

Every thrust punches a cry from your lungs. Every kiss down your spine lights up your nerves like lightning. Your walls clench tighter and tighter—every stroke inside you driving you closer to a cliff you can’t see the bottom of.

“Let me mark you,” he begs. “Please. Let me leave something of me on you.”

You nod, helplessly. And he bites down on the side of your neck—not enough to break skin, just enough to claim. Your back arches under him, body trembling as he groans against your skin.

“I want you warm and full and mine,” he growls. “Let me fill you. Let me stay inside you.”

You scream his name as your orgasm crashes over you—twitching around him, sobbing, shattering. White hot pleasure sizzles down your spine and in your core as you close your eyes at the sheer intensity of it. The bond explodes in your chest. Your pleasure echoes into his—his hips falter, then slam one final time—

He moans your name as he cums. Buried deep. Hot, thick, endless.

He jerks as he empties himself into you, cock twitching inside your still-clenching walls, his breath catching as his entire body locks above yours. You feel every spurt of him flood you—so full you feel it dripping down your thighs.

His hands have yours pinned by your head, fingers intertwined and tight against yours as he crashes through his release. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull out. He just collapses over you. Breathing ragged. Arms caging you beneath him possessively. Nose in your neck.

And you—soaked, trembling, filled and full of him—let yourself melt beneath his weight. Safe. Claimed. His.

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

“I’ll never let you go,” he breathes against your skin. “Even if all that’s left is instinct… I’ll love you in every form. Every time you’re born, I’ll find you. And I’ll love you again.”

You turn your head to meet his eyes, breath still shaking. “Yours, Hwi. You have me.”

His kiss is searing as he presses it to your cheek, your ear, your temple. And he whispers, broken and beautiful: “Mine.”

The bond pulses one last time. Then it quiets. Wrapped around each other. Hearts tangled. Souls glowing.

Beast and tether.

His weight is still pressed against your back—hot, heavy, anchoring. But his thrusts are gone now, replaced by slow, trembling breaths against the shell of your ear. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the bond and the thunder of two hearts tangled together.

You feel his arms tighten around your waist like he’s scared you might slip through them. “Hwi,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak at first—just buries his nose into your hair and breathes you in like a prayer. Then, softly, brokenly: “Thank you.”

You blink. “For what?”

“For… this. For you. For letting me—” His voice cracks. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel you like this. Not with skin. Not with hands. Not like this…”

You turn in his embrace, and he lets you, gently helping you onto your back. He hovers above you, eyes shining with something too big to hold. “I was never supposed to be this,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I was a spirit. A guardian. A thing without touch, without form. But I would've given it up a thousand times over. I did—for you.”

He lowers his forehead to yours, his silver lashes brushing your skin. “If falling from grace means I get to hold you like this—love you like this—I’d fall every time.”

Your throat tightens, your heart breaking and healing in the same breath. “You’re not fallen,” you say, gently brushing his cheek. “You just… came home.”

He swallows hard, eyes closing at your touch. He kisses your palm, your wrist, then your chest—over your heart. And stays there, listening. “I’ll love every version of you,” he murmurs against your skin. “Even the pieces you haven’t met yet. Even the parts that change.”

You take his face in your hands, and he melts into them, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. “Thank you.” You say, “For always reassuring me. For loving me like this. Hearing you say things like that, makes it sound too good to be true.” You sigh, “I can’t believe you want to be mine-”

“I only ever knew how to be yours,” he says, voice trembling. “I don’t know how to be anything else. And now that I’ve had you like this… I can’t go back.”

Your breath hitches.

“I live to worship you,” he whispers. “To care for you. Provide for you. Cherish you. Love you. Every version. Every life. Every shape you take.”

Something in you shatters. You let out a soft sound—half sob, half laugh—and press a thousand kisses to his shoulder, his collarbone, his cheeks, his hands.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” you whisper. “To be loved like this. After years of solitude. Loneliness…”

He hushes you gently, laying his head against your chest as you softly play with his hair. “I’m here now,” he says. “You won’t ever be without me. Without us.”

His arms tighten again around your middle. His voice is quieter now, small and honest. “I won’t just stand by this time,” he promises. “I won’t let the world take you from me again. I don’t care what I become. I’ll fight fate, gods, time—everything. I’ll bare my teeth and rip the stars down if they try to take you.”

You smile faintly through the warmth in your chest. “Sounds like my beast.”

He grins, eyes glassy with emotion. “I’d burn the sky just to keep you in my arms.”

Then he shifts, wrapping you in his shirt and lifting you in his arms. Your head rests tiredly on his shoulder as he walks and carries you to your room.

Opening the door, he walks over to the bed and places you on it gently. He gets in right next to you—pulling the blanket over both of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking you close until your legs tangle and your bodies settle in perfect symmetry.

He presses one last kiss to your forehead and whispers, “Sleep now, my love. I’ll guard your dreams.”

And you do. Wrapped in his warmth. His scent. His soul.

Belonging. At last.

TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Mystery/ Hwimori gets his turn on this one. Wrote this with all my Hwimori girls in mind. I figured his go would be a bit different as he's a soulbeast and always had this type of spiritual connection to the reader. Seeds of doubt slowly creep into her mind in this one as well. Hwi silences them for now, but who knows where they'll go in the next chapters. I think you all know who comes next ;) Let me know what you guys think, and as always, thank you for reading! Much Love, Willa x

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emmanation · 3 days ago

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things i manifested during my birthday trip in june (no preamble, we go now. success story because i know you all need a little bit of a push.)

ok so the first and loudest...... my mom bought me the louis vuitton murakami cherry blossom bag. not even as a birthday present. just. bought it. in daylight. in public. the same woman who gave her big speech on "maybe you'll get something for a thousand, max." ok. and now she's just swiping a card for the last physical murakami cherry blossom in paris as if it's a club penguin membership. no discussions, no drama, i assumed, we walked. we bought. meanwhile a year ago we were in financial cpr. actual insolvency. and this year.... twenty minutes into the city and i'm holding the bag that went off the grid online not even two days later. the saleswoman was blinking like "might not have it," "maybe not this location," "probably sold out" etc etc etc. and i said ok girl keep doing your npc lines while i wait for my bag. because obviously it's there. and then it was.

anyway. we got a room upgrade. bigger and comfier and accidental.

my mom was chill. giggling-chill, not yelling and no weird moral monologues about respect or whatever. she laughed at one of my jokes. imagine that.

we actually splurged. like not !!!yay one overpriced salad!! splurged. proper indulgence. like oh yea mom sure....let's go to balenciaga, why not?

i got cocktails everywhere, some of them were free. no idea why.

we went to so many museums. high risk times too. like showing up near closing. still got in. no passive aggressive ushers. no dramatic countdowns. just. entry.

and get this. NOTHING WAS CROWDED. i know that's boring to some people but no it's not. because last year, versailles was packed like a girl dinner tinned sardine set. i was body-checking toddlers by accident. but this year, people forgot to exist. lines moved like jazz.

and then. my mom. my MOM. who thinks smoking is a moral failure. BOUGHT ME SLIMS. for me. just handed them over like they were tic tacs. again: i'm seventeen. she's aries. she's not supposed to do that. but she did. okay..........

weather was behaving PROPERLY. rained.....??? only while we were inside. cleared? the minute we left. over and over. the atmosphere was syncing to me as if it was a bluetooth speaker. i was meteorologically girlbossing.

oh also shifted. just a little nothing.

we found a booth at cafes every single time, even the packed ones, even when we didn't call ahead. even when people were lurking like pigeons trying to poach tables. somehow, booth.

no tech issues.

no rude waiters.

no weird men.

no misplaced booking emails.

no fights.

no bickering.

just....... smooth. like the world was on xanax.

MY FEET DIDN'T HURT. mind you i walked 20 kilometres every day in the most not-meant-for-odyssean-walking shoes. but alas.

kept getting small discounts or weird upgrades. either official ones or those social-interaction-only ones where someone just likes your vibe and you skip the line or get extra.

we kept getting seated next to windows.......this is important. and the windows were clean. no bird trauma or crusty handprints.

and every time i thought we might be late for something, we weren't. the timing was always a minute off from bad but just in time for perfect. like the city bent a little so we didn’t have to.

^^^^^^ like when we were in giverny for monet's museum, and got back to the train ... and then the train was there a minute later. and the next one wouldn't have arrived for another 2 hours.

and also. i got the cutest most comfortable sweater ever in existence. which cost too much, and my mom kept on with her speech about big spending and i went okay:) but in my mind was like hmmmmmm. no. no, i have this, actually. like somehow, this thing is mine. yea. and then..........it is.

anyway. it was giving hyperstability under capitalism. it was giving predictive assumption. it was giving i assumed correctly and the universe matched pace.

sparkle sparkle.

#shifting #emma's communion #loa success #loablr #loassblog #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #neville goddard #affirm and persist #master manifestor #manifesting #law of attraction #manifesation #shifting success #shiftingrealities #self concept #law of assumption

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secretivemessenger · 2 days ago

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inspired by @sooniebby’s (sorry for the tag danny) magic dildo story. what if what if just what if instead of that its a magical fleshlight

☆ incubus bf x bttm male reader (no name specified so it can be imagined as any character)

★ synopsis: incubus bf who owns a magical fleshlight from hell and he uses it while ur in the middle of a solo presentation infront of your whole class.

☆ cw: magical toys? idk , exhibition-ish , almost getting caught, invisible penetration?, belly bulging mentioned.

★ AUTHOR’s rambling: this has been in my drafts for so long i wrote it then deleted it then wrote it again ugh, anyways i feel like i haven’t written bttm reader in a lonnggg while the bottom whore in me is unsatisfied.

nsfw content under the cut, proceed with caution.

imagine being in the middle of a uni presentation, all eyes on you as you explained your take on the theory of relativity. yer doing so great for once, as you’re not the one to have the courage for presentations but it doesn’t last.

suddenly feeling a something force its way past your hole, something is stretching you out harshly and you can only think of one person who would do that, your bf and his beloved fleshlight.

you could feel his hard cock drive forward into your core with no haste, as your body shakes and sweats. yet you try to continue, “T-the theory of r-relativity, proposed by Albert Einstein, rereshing that...ngh”. oh fuck oh shit all eyes are on you, your professor is looking at you with concern as your legs tremble and even a faint squelching sound is coming out from your hole being fucked and slicked up.

your ragged breathing and the way you swayed caused your professor to ask “are you alright?”, you nod violently and turn back to the board that had your powerpoint and pointed, opening your mouth again to try and keep going only to feel a particularly hard thrust that pushed you against the board and interrupted your sentence with a semi audible whimper. gosh they all must think you have a vibrator up yer ass or something.

why does it have to feel so good, you were being pounded like no tomorrow but that was the least of your concerns now. you turned back towards the rest of the students some seem to already have their minds in the gutter, blushing and looking away from your quivering body. you were ashamed as you tried as hard as you can to keep talking while letting some whines and groans slip out, you can almost see some students closing their thighs up.

your hole clenched and fluttered around nothing, aching to be filled with the real deal. you could feel your boyfriend's fat cock splitting you open, the bulbous head slamming into your prostate dead-on with brutal precision. you can’t take it any more as you stumble on your feet and have to grip the nearest wall for support.

your professor now even more concerned walks up to you and grabs onto your shoulders making you want to scream from how sensitive and hot your body is right now, you can see the look on your professors face as he takes a look at yours before coughing, “go wash your face up then come back, alright?”. you blinked the tears that were threatening to spill away then nodded sprinting out of the lecture hall and to the bathroom.

you stumbled as your hole fluttered around the object plowing into it before you shakily make your way to a bathroom stall and closed the door, not even bothering to lock it. you sat down on the toilet and hurriedly unbuckled your pants and boxers in one go, impatient and very horny.

your cock sprung free, rock hard and leaking with pre. you can feel the phantom of your boyfriends pre in your untouched hole, you felt how warm it is even though it wasn’t there.

weeping and sobbing, you took a hold of your cock and pumped it violently as you bucked into an invisible force, fucking yourself on a cock you can only feel.

one of your hands jerking your cock and the other. reached for the hem of your shirt and brought it up to your lips to chomp on it and hold it up, it revealed your tummy and the little mark left on your abdomen, which is what connects you to your boyfriend.

you reached your other free hand to place on your stomach, the said tattoo was glowing and when you placed your hands on it you almost came from the pulse of pleasure. you groaned as you can feel your boyfriends cock reaching so deep into your stomach that it makes a bulge. with every thrust it bumps into the hand you have placed there like a baby bump, baby fever much? maybe your boyfriend’s magical world have a way for you to get pregnant.

your silly thoughts vanished quickly at the sound of someone stepping into the bathroom, then it finally came down onto you that you never locked the door. you took your hand off your tummy and slammed it on your mouth to silence yourself.

“[name] you there? the professor asked me to come get you since you’re taking so long”, you recognized that voice as one of your classmates. gosh should you say something or stay quiet, if you talked you might moan but if you don’t they might think your skipping,, ahh geez.

“i-im alright, just uh doing.. y-ya know”, “ah”. you received an understanding hum from your classmate before he speaks again “alright i’ll let the professor know” then you hear him turn on his heels and make his way to the exit.

you tried to keep quiet till he was fully gone but with your boyfriend ramming your prostate like he was in a boxing match and your prostate was the opponents face you couldn’t, you let out a loud gasp at an especially aggressive plow making your classmate haste in his way.

“you alrigh-“ “YES” you screamed out loudly, your voice hoarse and shaky trying to sound as convincing as possible while your boyfriends dick continues to mercilessly pound your hole. “okay okay” your classmate responds teasingly before finally leaving.

yeah hes definitely thinking you were jacking off, to which you were but damn.

once he left you slumped over the toilet crying and moaning loudly as your hole hollowed out and gaped around nothing. your hand worked faster on your cock pumping it up and down, squeezing the tip till you feel like cumming then letting go with a disappointed whimper. you’re your biggest enemy tbh.

you wrapped your hand around your cock again resuming jerking it off, going in sync with your boyfriends thrusts.

you can sense his pounding slowing down, being more deep than rough, he was definitely close, you wanted to cum together. so you sped up your hand, sloppily jerking off while your thighs shook violently, you feel like coming right then and there but you have to hold on, just a bit more.

when you felt on the verge of bursting you placed your thumb on your tip pressing down, denying yourself the pleasure of release. while your boyfriend is nearly there you can feel it, from the way his cock twitched inside of you.

then you felt it, flooding deep into your guts, and you finally let go allowing yourself to cum aswell. time felt like it stopped as you threw your head back, cumming all over your chest and shirt.

and you felt his cum too, it wasn’t there physically but you felt it inside of you, filling you up to the brim,,

unless he cleans the fleshlight, which you doubt, then you’re gonna have to spend the rest of the day with invisible spunk deep in your guts.. yay, fun.

#bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #male reader smut #male reader imagine #x bottom male reader #x bottom reader #top character #sub male reader #x sub male reader

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1-800stray · 2 days ago

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skz x reader who has biting as their love language and make it written:D

GIVE ME YOUR LOVE&AFFECTION!

this is just some short little stories as i’m trying to get back into writing slowly!! i hope u enjoy :3 i was meant to post this a couple hours ago but i guy invited me over so…

CHAN

Catches on quickly. The first time it happens its a quick nip to his upper arm, mid hug. He pauses. Blinks once and looks down at you, eyebrows raised.

And thats that.

Chan, being Chan, doesn't make a big deal out of it. Over time, he even adjusts to it, anticipates it. Now, when you nuzzle into his neck and your teeth gently press into the curve of his shoulder, he simply lets out a quiet hum and wraps his arm around you tighter.

"You've been good today," he murmurs once, tugging his sleeve down up and holding out his wrist. "You want a snack?"

You bite, of course. And then kiss the same spot, just to be extra annoying. He never complains.

In fact, he starts kissing your forehead every time you bite him. A ritual of sorts. One action met with another, a silent conversation of shared love.

LEE KNOW

The first time you bite him, he stops moving entirely. Not in a stunned way, not in a casual way either.

Calculated. Judging.

You watch the slow turn of his head as he stares down at the bite mark on his bicep. "Did you just bite me?" He breathes out. He's not actually sure why he asked when he already knows the answer.

"Yes." You answer simply, leaning into his touch.

He pauses. Then, flatly, "Seek help."

But he doesn't pull away.

Not the second time, or the third. In fact, he starts tilting his head slightly when you approach, offering easier access to his shoulder, his arm, his neck.

He pretends to hate it. Rolls his eyes everytime. But one day, when you don't bite him, too tired, too distracted, he nudges you with his foot.

And just like that, you know he's completely surrendered to it.

CHANGBIN

Your teeth leave little crescents on his bicep after a back hug. You don't mean to bite too hard, just enough to feel him. Remind yourself he's there.

He looks down, then up, then chuckles like he's not even surprised.

"Cute," He says, flexing under your hold. "I didn't even feel that."

You narrow your eyes. "Oh?"

He grins. "C'mon, baby. You can do better than that."

After that, it becomes a game. He flexes, you bite harder. You sneak bites in when he's not paying attention. He acts like he's made of steel and refuses to acknowledge it.

But when you're quiet, when you press your forehead to his shoulder and bite down, not for fun but to ground yourself, he stills. No teasing, no jokes.

Just a hand cradling the back of your head, his voice like soft honey in your ear. "You okay?"

And when you nod, he kisses your temple, long and slow.

HYUNJIN

You bite his shoulder during a cuddle. Not hard, just a small nip. Warm. Familiar.

Hyunjin stills, and then turns to you slowly, eyes narrowed like you've personally betrayed him. "You bit me," He says, dramatically clutching the spot.

"I love you," you reply simply. He exhales like you've just confessed to a crime.

"You know, most people kiss."

After that, he wears sleeveless tees suspiciously often. Offers out his wrist mid hug. Hums when your teeth brush his skin.

And when you kiss him one morning without biting, he frowns. "That's it? Are we fighting?"

You laugh, bite his neck, and he grins.

"Thank you," He sighs. "Now my day can begin.

HAN

You bite him during a movie. Lightly. Right on the forearm. He screams.

Then he pauses, and turns towards you. "Was that an affectionate thing?"

You nod, unbothered.

From that point on, it becomes canon in his brain. You = biter. Bite = love.

He starts showing the bite marks off with pride. To Felix, he rants, "They did this one when I brought them dumplings. Oh, and this ones from-"

But its the quiet ones that affect him. The ones that happen when you're overwhelmed and bite just to stay present. When you sink your teeth into his hoodie sleeve during a panic attack. When you hold his arm too tightly and leave faint imprints.

He doesn't make a sound then. Just holds you, brushes his thumb over the mark like its a secret language only he can read.

FELIX

You bite his collarbone once, without thinking, during a sleepy cuddle. He giggles.

"Was that a kiss or a bite?"

"Bite."

"Oh. I liked it." And he means it. Fully. Enthusiastically.

From then on, he keeps pointing out new spots. "Try here- Oh, what about this spot on my shoulder?" He treats it like a love stamp. Something unique to your relationship. Something warm.

His shoulder, his arm, even once his cheek. "Go ahead, I don't mind. Just be gentle."

And when you get shy about it, like maybe its too weird, he cradles your face and goes, "You don't have to explain, love. I know its how you care."

You bite his wrist gently, and he exhales like he's been holding his breath.

"There you are," he whispers, kissing your forehead. "I missed that."

SEUNGMIN

"You bit me." He says flatly.

"Yes?"

He stares. "Like.. with your teeth."

"Yes."

"Don't." He answers. You roll your eyes.

Seungmin doesn't stop complaining, but he also doesn't stop you. If you bite him during hugs, he'll just sigh and mutter something sarcastic, but his hand always comes up to cradle the back of your head.

And when you haven't bitten him in days, stressed, exhausted, distant, he pokes your arm and says, "Everything okay?"

You bite him right then, and he smiles. "Thought so."

JEONGIN

He panics.

The first time you bite him, he yelps and turns to you like a scared puppy. You have to convince him after that you're not mad at him, and he didn't do anything wrong.

It takes some explaining.

But once he gets it, once he really, truly understands it, he adapts so fast.

Starts leaning into it, holding out his arm to you, He starts to expect it. Waits for it. Gets quiet when it doesn't happen.

You notice his quiet demeanour, and walk over. You bite him and then immediately kiss it after, and he blushes so red he has to walk away.

He never recovers.

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 10 hours ago

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Love the part where you're just starting a new story. The beginning where you're like "oh boy this is the most fun easy awesome thing I've ever written," before you get to the "this is pretty lackluster actually" middle and the "ending this thing is like pulling fucking teeth" end. Beginnings are so easy to write it's my favourite part.

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letliv3 · 2 days ago

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Was at the local ice cream stand a few weeks ago in the middle of the afternoon. It was relatively busy, families and couples and my boyfriend and I sitting at their picnic tables enjoying the nice weather. It's on a busy street, so they see a ton of traffic which makes it a fun place to people watch. Anyway, some suped up fancy car kept revving their loud ass engine and trying to get traffic to move faster. In a downtown. At a very busy time. Needless to say, he didn't get very far considering how slow traffic was moving. And, in a wonderful moment of unity, everyone at the ice cream stand started making fun of this dude. Yelling, "oh yeah tough guy you go!" and "sounds like you're compensating for something buddy!" In a moment of silence one of the tiny children said, "that was very rude!" And we all busted out laughing. It was great.

Moral of the story: don't be that guy.

i mean this from the bottom of my heart: no one is impressed by your loud ass car. actually we talked about it and we all want you dead.

#liv speaks #honestly me #listen we all had a great laugh about it afterwards #no one likes these people okay #yes loud engine make brain go brrrrrr #but a time and place man #time and place

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yumiblaze · 2 days ago

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Cursed - Saja Boys X Fem!Reader Part 7

Hey guys I want to let everyone know I officially have reached the maximum amount of people I can tag so if anyone else wants to follow the story I post almost daily (And mostly just chapters of the story) so best just to follow me or check in everyday

PROLOGUE / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6

NEXT PART

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was slightly awkward when Mystery came back into the room with a glass of water and Baby was still hugging you and crying like… well a baby. The mint haired boy did quickly wipe his tears and act like he didn’t cry once he realised you were no longer alone. He then left the room in a rushed manner mumbling to Mystery about not telling anyone about this on the way past.

Mystery just shrugged and brought the glass of water to you with a small smile.

“Thank you Myst.” You said using a shortened version of his name.

“Myst?” The boy repeated titling his head to one side. You giggled at how cute he looked with his head tilted like that.

“It’s a nickname for you, do you like it?”

“Yes but you’re the only one allowed to use it.” The boy replied taking one of your hands in his bigger warmer ones. As you sipped at you water you watched the purple haired boy gently play with your fingers. He seemed completely contented with your one hand, wiggling each finger and feeling how smooth your palm was.

You finally took a proper look at the room you were in. It was a lilac coloured room with a bookcase in one corner filled with all kinds of literature. The bed you were in was a double and the bed covers had a picture of a beautiful sakura tree covering them. Pulling them closer to yourself you could faintly smell the scent of lavender. The only other thing in the room was a small wooden side table with a simple lamp on it. It was a nice room and you started to ponder if it was a spare room or if you had stolen someone else’s bed.

You were also wearing someone else’s oversized t-shirt, probably because all your clothes were drenched in blood. It made you blush when you realised that meant not only had someone let you borrow their own cloths but that at least one of them had changed your cloths while you were unconscious.

It wasn’t too long before you heard the front door being unlocked. You didn’t think too much of it until Mystery put your hand down and stood away from the bed, uncomfortably crossing his arms over his chest. You put down your water on the side table and frowned not quite sure what to expect.

You quickly realised who was in the apartment as soon as you heard a symphony of rushed footsteps getting louder. The door burst open and three familiar girl ran over to you.

“Oh my god (y/n)! Thank god you’re okay!” Rumi practically yelled hugging you tightly.

“I was so worried about you!” Zoey sobbed hugging you as well.

“I swear I will find whatever did this to you and kill it.” Mira promised grabbing onto your hands.

You weakly smiled trying to hug your girls back. Your eyes flicked over to the door, Jinu leaning against the doorframe and giving you a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry for worrying you all.” You told them as they started to calm down.

“Did it hurt a lot? You need to describe them to us so we can find them! Did the nasty demon boys treat you nice enough? Did they feed you? Do you need anything?” Zoey asked one hand on your shoulder and the other gently cradling your cheek.

“It hurt but the boys were really good and they did an amazing job looking after me.” You answered truthfully.

“Don’t think this changes anything.” Mira told Jinu glaring over at him. “As soon as we get (y/n) out of here the truce is over and we go back to being enemies.”

“I know.” Jinu replied coldly.

“Though I wonder if she should even be leaving.” Baby spoke up suddenly strolling into the room, his chill laid back personality back.

“What do you mean?” Rumi asked cocking an eyebrow.

“Well this is the second time we’ve had to save (y/n), not to mention the amount of demons we’ve caught sniffing around your apartment while you guys were out and sweet little (y/n) was all alone.” The mint haired boy explained looking at your sister with bored blue eyes. “You didn’t even catch a couple of us sneaking into your apartment on multiple occasions.”

“You’ve snuck into our home?” Mira asked angrily.

“Only to protect what you’ve forgotten to.” Baby snapped back.

“Stop it.” You told Baby, not wanting everyone to argue.

Baby looked like he wanted to say more but after looking at your serious face he sighed and decided to look through his phone instead. Everyone was quiet for a few moments not really knowing what to say.

“Why did you save her though?” Rumi eventually asked looking from Baby to Mystery and finally to Jinu.

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” Jinu replied.

“Yeah right, I bet you were just doing this to make us softer on you.” Zoey scoffed holding you protectively against her chest. “One good deed doesn’t change the fact that you’re a disgusting demon!”

You noticed your sister flinch as Zoey finished her sentence. You remember what Baby and Mystery had said about her, her reaction told you that it was definitely true. You wanted to ask her about why she was lying but you didn’t want to out her right now, as much as you were hurt she didn’t tell you.

“Can you walk?” Mira asked you uncovering you.

“She shouldn’t.” Mystery said quietly. “She needs rest.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Mira replied glaring at the quiet boy.

Mystery didn’t verbally reply but you could hear him growling like a dog that was seconds away from snapping at someone.

“Mystery’s right she can’t walk home yet.” Rumi admitted pulling up your borrowed shirt and looking at the mass of bloody bandages wrapped around your abdomen.

“Oh my god my poor little (y/n)!” Zoey fussed her eye brimming with tears again. Even Mira seemed to grimace when she saw the bandages.

“We can’t just let her stay here.” Mira stated.

“Why not?” Baby chirped with a smirk. “We can look after her.”

“Ew.” Zoey whispered shielding you from the boy.

“Can we speak about this outside for a moment?” Mira asked Rumi and Zoey, who nodded in reply.

“Be right back sis.” Rumi assured you giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

You watched the three girls leave the room before Jinu approached you.

“You feeling better princess?” He asked you brushing some hair from your face. You nodded, smiling softly. “Good but you better realise we’re never letting you out of our sights again.” He told you gently cupping your face with his warm hand.

“Maybe I don’t want to ever be out of your sights again.” You replied leaning into his touch.

“Does that mean we can watch you shower?” Baby asked suddenly making you and Jinu both turn red.

“Baby!” You cried glaring at him, your face still red. The boy smirked at you, amused by your reaction.

“So is that a yes?” The boy pushed, sticking his tongue out at you.

“Baby I swear if you don’t shut up I’m going to break your damn phone!” Jinu hissed covering his red face with one hand.

@ffcfffr @whimsiecat @gremlinartstudio @chugjugg @aerissblog @kitkatpattywack2808 @airwolf92 @fries11 @doggyteam2028 @downbadgirlypoo @kashasenpai @seung185 @faefanatic @izzieg3987 @lansy-4 @weponxwrites @bunniotomia @chaoticfivesworld @clmstorm @sra7riddle-malfoy @vi1326 @justanotherkpopstanlol @jaeyuuns @tikitsune @zzsloth @yumi-does-stuff @ghost-reine @yuurisfavblog @dragongirl642 @just-a-blue-nerd @snowy-violet @justanindiangirl12 @sexually-attracted-to-pans @minthoneynbasil @tatsuri-zomushiki @ellie-x0xo @olxh @satansdaughter123 @reallysparklychaos @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @lostsomewhereinthegarden @avadakadabra93 @szc56 @phoenixflying666 @l0wlifepr1ncess @reverie-sxno @fantasyhopperhea @bakusquadobsessed @adorablepandasuniverse @sad-sie

#abby x reader #jinu x reader #kpdh #kpdh fanfic #mystery x reader #romance x reader #saja boys x reader #baby saja x reader #saja boys #k pop demon hunters

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taintandviolent · 2 days ago

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show me your teeth ; Remmick x reader

summary: maybe you've heard the tales. maybe you don't care. maybe you hear him every night, rustling around outside. maybe, just maybe, you decide to lure him out from wherever it is he's hiding.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.9K | SMUT, female reader, unprotected sex, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, monster sex, outdoor sex, threat of getting caught, semi-public sex, spit/salivia mention, spit kink, scent kink, blood drinking, blood loss, hinting that reader gets bitten at the end of this.

a/n: requested by @zombifiedx! thank you for being so patient, I'm sorry this took me so looooong!!! and thank you to my lovely lovely beta reader @genevievedarcygranger - appreciate you immensely baby! banners by @/adornedwithlight, @/saradika-graphics, and @/arminsumi!!

↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You knew they were out there.

You knew it every night.

After everyone had fallen asleep, you'd go downstairs, unlock the front door and stand at the threshold. You'd see their glowing eyes in the night, in the distance. Never close enough to see them, though. Just their eyes. You'd have thought they were animals, like coyotes or something, had you not heard the stories.

Oh, you'd heard the stories. And they should've frightened you.

Operative word; should've.

But didn't.

You wanted to find out.

You open the screen door carefully, holding it tightly as you guide it back into place. You'll be damned if a creak ruined your fun.

You'd learned to play the violin at a young age. It had been a fun little talent, used for get together but now, as you bring the bow to the strings, it's being used for a far more sinister purpose. A low resonant sound drifts through the air. You aren't playing anything in particular, but hope it's seductive enough to bring him forward.

At first, there's darkness, as there always is. It looms in front of your house like a storm cloud and the overwhelming feeling is somehow inviting and ominous at the same time. The darkness encroaches. Like it's sentient and has two big arms that want to swallow you whole. You don't dare step off the front porch, though. Not yet.

You continue dragging the bow, fingering out a low, almost mournful tune. You close your eyes, feeling the melody as it resonates through your hand and up your arm. You're lost for a second, just feeling the music, but quickly regain awareness, opening your eyes. You blink and swallow, focusing on the melody that drifts out into the forest ahead.

And after a few minutes… one pair of reflective eyes blinks back in the distance. Once, twice. They bounce as he walks closer. You hear the crunch of the dirt underneath his shoes as he approaches, comes into the bright spot that your porch light emits.

You bring the violin away from your shoulder, lowering it down to your side. "I'm almost surprised you came."

"That was some mighty fine playin' there, darlin'."

"It worked well enough, I suppose."

"What — you lure me here to string me up or somethin'?"

You shake your head at him, and say: "I wanted to see ya'… I know you've been lurkin' outside my house for weeks. I hear you."

He smiles, like a man caught — but a man who isn't ashamed of being caught.

"Well, I hear you."

You shift your weight, and take a step away from the door. "Why you always out here? You ain't never come to the door, though."

He takes a step. "Your violin there ain't the only thing singin'. Damn near drove me insane how strong I could smell ya'. Just like I can now, sweet girl."

That sends a jolt of arousal directly to your core. You hum and lean back against your doorframe. Remmick takes another step forward. You're bold, standing outside like this for him to approach. So far from safe, you can't even remember the feeling.

"I know what you are."

He grins; it's a mouthful of teeth that catches you off guard. When he speaks, it sounds full, like he's fighting around the teeth. His eyes flash red, and his tongue runs along the jagged line of his fangs. "Do ya' now? Saves me some trouble, then."

Something clenches in your gut. It's hot and wet like anticipation, but clings to your insides like fear. If you're afraid, it's trumped by your unbridled, burning curiosity to taste the forbidden. You set the violin on the rocking chair on your porch. It wobbles slightly, the wood creaking underneath, and you reach out to steady it with your hand.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

He takes another step forward, his hands in his pockets. Casual. Disarming. He's got one foot up on the porch and you know there's no turning back now. You wouldn't make it inside.

"I want to know," you murmur. Brave. Curious.

Remmick chuckles at that, looking down to the floor before his reflective eyes flit back up to you. "What, my name? It's Remmick."

You smile crookedly. "I meant… something else."

To punctuate your sentence, you run your hand down the length of your body, over your breasts, down the curve of your stomach, stopping just before you reach your cunt. Remmick's eyes follow your hand as it trails down your body, his own hunger tripling. When you stop, his gaze doesn't drift from the spot between your legs.

"I'm curious what it feels like," you say.

His jaw juts out to the side, almost cockily. He looks like he's tasting your words, and they amuse him. "Careful, now… when I come on, I come on like a fever."

"Countin' on it. C'mere," you say, taking a step and reaching your arm forward. Your fingers take a hungry fistful of his shirt, pulling him fully up onto the porch. Your chests are flush now, your breasts pushing against the hard planes of his pale body. Neither of you waste any time; you're both starved, it seems. He smears his face along yours, his breath hot and heavy over your open mouth. It's desperate and animalistic, like a hungry beast that hasn't eaten for days. He's inhaling you in lungfuls, and you can't help but moan low.

Your hand snaps to his face abruptly, your thumb pushing up into his top lip, exposing the needle-sharp fangs. A line of saliva stretches from his tongue, and Remmick relents, opening his mouth wider to let you explore his mouth with your fingers. You run your thumb along one of the points, not enough to puncture, but enough to sate your curiosity. When he finally kisses you, it isn't sweet or gentle. It's sharp and heady and leaves your knees feeling rubbery.

Something creaks in the house behind you — you don't hear it, but he does. He cranes his neck, moving his head away from yours briefly. He gazes at the house behind him with a disappointed glimmer in his eyes. You drape your arms around his neck, pulling his attention back to you. You're just as needy as he is.

"Ahhh," he breathes into your mouth. "You ain't alone."

"Aw, don't you worry 'bout that. They won't hear nothin'."

They were all asleep, and they'd stay that way, despite what you wanted to do. You knew when to keep your voice down. Keeping your arms wrapped around his neck, you walk him back towards the corner of the porch, pressing your back against the wood. Remmick reaches around his neck, grabbing one of your hands sharply. Those clawed fingers wrap around your wrist with ease as he brings it to his mouth, exhaling against the soft skin. Your blood runs just beneath the surface, and it's singing a symphony to him.

Without warning, the sharp point of his thumb nail slices just below your palm. You hiss through your teeth. There's a hot sting as the nail lacerates, then a runnel of bright, red blood hurriedly snakes down your inner arm. Remmick is quick to catch it though, laving his cool, wet tongue all over the skin. As he hungrily laps, you lean your head back against the wood, a sense of euphoria settling over you. It's not from blood loss, but an indescribable feeling of being consumed by something other than a man.

"Remmick," you whisper, reaching down to hoist your cotton nightgown up your soft thighs. You're already wet with want, you can feel it.

At first, he doesn't react, too busy squeezing your wrist and urging more blood from the wound. When you press your bare cunt against him, smearing your wetness against his slacks — the intoxicating scent of arousal hits him. He looks down between your bodies. Sees you grinding your hips against his. Something glimmers in his red eyes, something hungry.

"Whoooo," he says. It should be hollered, but instead, it's whispered. "You just waitin' to be grabbed, ain't ya'?"

His hand leaves your wrist, sliding down your body, nails first. He palms your cunt, just feeling the damp heat that radiates off of her. With a low hum, he moves over your folds, slick and warm, and spreads her open with the pads of his fingers. A thick ribbon of drool dribbles from the corner of his mouth, and you lean forward, flicking your tongue along it. Warmth erupts in your core, somehow more fiery than before. Something settles over you. Heat. Hunger. Willingness. As if you weren't before? Nonsense. You asked for this.

"Go on an' tell me you want this," he drawls. With his other hand, he frees himself, pulling his rigid cock from the confines of his trousers. You feel it bump against your stomach, which clenches in response.

"Show me," you start, walking your legs out slightly. Keeping your eyes on him, you angle your hips to give him easier access. "Show me what it feels like. I wanna' know."

He pushes himself down with one hand, lining it up. The leaking tip of his cock prods your slit a few times, pushing in gently before he pops the head in all the way, and you arch your back against the wood.

You're soaked, and already tightening around him, trying to pull him in further.

"Fuck," he says. "This here is what bein' curious will get ya', lass."

His hips buck hard once, sheathing himself inside you. You don't protest, despite the way he splits you open. His hips find an impatient, hurried rhythm of fucking up into you and your jaw drops in a silent scream, your eyes lifting to the overhang of the porch.

Remmick sates himself in you, like you exist for his pleasure and his pleasure alone. The frenzied thrusts have your breasts bouncing against your chest, and one of his hands come up to grab one, his thumb flicking over the nipple. You tangle your fingers in the hair on the back of his head, pulling hard. He snarls close to your face, and an intoxicating blend of fear and arousal shudders down your spine. This was what you wanted, after all. You silence his snarl with a brave kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He reciprocates, letting his own wet muscle tangle with yours, taste every inch of your open, pleading mouth.

Your release gallops toward you, too quickly. Remmick notices this. Or maybe he can smell it in the air, feel it in the way your cunt squeezes him with every thrust, taste it in the way your short, little panting breaths come. His hand clamps down over your lips, hard, mean — like he can hear the scream inside your throat. Your eyes roll back, lids fluttering helplessly as you come, clenching around his dick in a spasming grip.

It doesn't take long for Remmick to follow you, not with the way he's thrusting into you. Seconds later, he's filling you until he leaks out the sides. He doesn't pull out, keeping himself stuffed inside you.

"You'll make a mighty fine addition, darlin'. A mighty fine addition."

Your fists ball at your sides, the first whispers of fear clouding your mind, darkening it around the edges like a vignette. You're afraid now. Afraid of the pain, of the way it'll hurt, of what you'll leave behind. You swallow hard, reminding yourself that you wanted to know, you wanted to find out, and you lured him from his hiding spot in the woods. His hold tightens on your jaw as he yanks your head to the side, exposing the sweaty column of your neck to him. He kisses the skin. Once. Twice. And then you feel his jaws part, open wide on your neck.

Curiosity really does kill the cat.

#Remmick #remmick x reader #remmick x you #remmick smut #remmick fanfic #vampire x reader #monsterfucker #vampire x you #vampires #vampire smut #vampire fanfiction #myfics

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cheapshrimpysheep · 20 hours ago

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Dating in a Dream - Ruggie Bucchi

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Ruggie Bucchi x Reader 🍩🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss; Flirting

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Ruggie’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 3.360 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I try my best to write dialogue for characters like Ruggie well, but since English isn't my first language there are some forms of speech and abbreviations I'm not familiar with. But I hope I've done him enough justice.

By the way, it was while I was writing this that my keyboard started failing, and I had to buy a new one. I hope I've fixed all the typos.

I hope you enjoy 🍩

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / Jade / Azul / Jack / (Ruggie) ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

You, Grim, Silver, Sebek, Ortho, Azul, Jack and Idia’s tablet reach the next dream, but you don't land anywhere you recognize. It looks like a new country.

Checking on the others, Jack said he was fine and Azul said the medication he had taken had helped him, but the heat of that place was worse for him than the crossing between dreams. According to Ortho's analysis, everything indicated that you were in Sunset Savanna, more specifically in the capital, Sunrise City.

After you all changed into your school uniforms, and how long it took because Jack was embarrassed to use Idia's spell, you start chatting to try to understand whose dream it could be. Everything indicates that the dream is either Leona's or Ruggie's, since they are both from Sunset Savanna. They exchange information they know about that country to have a better idea of where you are until you hear someone approaching running.

“Oh crud, oh crud! I overslept!” You see Ruggie pass you by. “If I'm late, I can kiss my perfect attendance record goodbye! Outta my way!”

He was wearing what looked like a school uniform, but not the black one of Night Raven Collage, this one was light brown and yellow. And he was wearing glasses too. Azul comments that he had never seen Ruggie wear glasses and Jack adds that it doesn't make sense because he's supposed to have some of the best eyesight out of anyone in Savanaclaw. But that was definitely Ruggie's dream because he had the dreamer's silver bird around his head.

You follow him.

You follow Ruggie to the market.

“What's the hurry, Ruggie?” One of the vendors calls him. “I've got chilled hibiscus juice here! Have a drink.”

“Thanks, ma'am, but I'm running late!”

“My, that's rare for a model student like you.”

“I was up late studying for a test and overslept.”

“You can't study on an empty stomach, Ruggie.” Another vendor says. “Have some steamed bananas for the road!”

“Whoa, that's a lot! How much for the bunch?”

“Don't worry about it. Your grandma did a lot to keep me fed back when I was a kid. Once you graduate and get a good job, you can treat me to a dinner at the Sunset Villa.”

“Ah, yeah, I'll pay you back when I'm rich! Thanks!”

Other vendors continued to offer him food and talk about his grandmother and comment on how his father had returned home rich after working away from home. Now his grandmother was comfortable retire.

You had to try hard not to lose Ruggie in that crowd. That, and it was difficult to move around among so many people. Meanwhile, Ruggie was dodging and weaving through the crowds at top speed.

“(Y/N)!” You hear someone call you with happy surprise, when you look it's one of the vendors. “Oh, I almost didn't recognize you in those clothes. Why aren't you wearing your uniform?”

“My uniform? Well, I...” You try to make up some excuse, but it's not necessary.

“And you're also late on top of that!” The vendor continues, friendly. “Ruggie is late as well, he just passed by. You must have missed each other. You look hungry. Here, take some steamed bananas with you.”

You accept the bananas, thank them and say goodbye when the vendor says that you had better go as you are already late and wishes you a good day at school. Grim ends up convincing you to give him most of the bananas, while Azul and Ortho comment on the fact that the people there know you. But how?

You continue following Ruggie until you reach a new place, which appears to be a school. You see Ruggie meeting other students wearing the same uniform as him.

“Judging by the ears and tails, it seems to be mostly beastfolk here.” Silver notices.

“There's a lot of hyenas...” Jack adds. “Actually, I think most of the people I'm seein' are hyenas.”

“There's no school at these coordinates in the real world.” Ortho informs. “It must be something that Ruggie's imagination came up with.”

Then your attention goes to the statue in the center, which depict three hyenas. Jack says they’re the legendary hyenas, the ones that served the King of Beasts. He had heard they were considered heroes around Ruggie's home region.

Meanwhile, Grim draws your attention to the trees laden with fruit, even after he has eaten almost all of your bananas. You see Ruggie and the other students picking the fruits and eating them, showing that it is allowed to eat the fruits from those trees. This is enough for Grim to help himself too and start picking up a bunch of fruit.

“Whoa! What's the-?” One of the students who was with Ruggie sees him. “Oh, it's just Grim.”

“Heeey, take it easy.” Ruggie says, amused. “You don't want to get indigestion like last time.”

“Last time?” Grim wonders to himself.

“Well, if you're here, then that means...” He looks around with a smile until he finds you and his smile grows even bigger. “There's my dandelion! Don't tell me grammy forgot to-”

You get closer, along with the others and he notices your clothes.

“Um... What are those clothes?” He asks still with an awkward smile. “Where is your uniform?” When he realizes that you're wearing the same clothes as the other boys you were with, his smile turns into a pout, cute and scary at the same time. “Um, (Y/N), who are your... friends? And why are you wearing the same clothes as them?”

So Ruggie knows you and Grim, but not the others and doesn't seem to know about NRC either. It's intriguing and confusing, but Azul still manages to join the conversation smoothly.

“Allow me to introduce everyone. My name is Azul Ashengrotto. This is my fellow sophomore Silver, and this is Ortho, Sebek, and Jack, all freshmen. We attend an arcane academy in the Land of Dawning called Night Raven College. We're here on a student exchange.”

“And (Y/N)'s uniform?” Ruggie asked, focusing on Azul.

“A spell that hit the wrong person.” He answers as if it were the genuine truth. “(Y/N) was the one who greeted us when we arrived here. When we tried to help Jack with a spell to change his clothes to better adapt to the climate, we ended up accidentally hitting (Y/N). And since we're not familiar with your uniform, we couldn't change their clothes back. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”

Ruggie was silent for a moment which made you question whether he really believed that or not. But Azul was good.

“Okay. Strange, but sounds plausible. Sorry for the suspicion.” Ruggie smiles friendly again. “Let me do it then.” He uses his magic to transform your black NRC uniform into the same light brown and yellowish uniform as his. “Much better.” He comments before turning back to Azul and the others. “I'm Ruggie Bucchi. Please, call me Ruggie.”

At that moment, Sebek's stomach growled while he was arguing with Grim about him picking too many fruits.

“Ahahaha! If you're that hungry, take all you want.” Ruggie said, laughing. “Here at Ivorycliff Academy all the food on campus is fair game for anyone to eat.”

Silver says they aren't students there and Ruggie says that's not a problem, that the local kids go there for food too. At that academy they share food with anyone who's hungry in honor of the hyenas' spirit of solidarity, whether or not they're enrolled there. Jack is shocked (and maybe you are too) seeing Ruggie offering food for free.

You all chat a little and Ruggie offers you even more food besides fruit. There was a stall by the school entrance that had freshly made donuts. He recommends that they get a plain donut, drizzle on some chocolate sauce, then add some sliced nuts, then add custard cream and whipped cream, and top it all off with some tart berry jam like so.

But for you, he offered your favorite, or a mix that would be your favorite. He didn't even need to ask you anything, it was as if he already knew your tastes by heart.

Meanwhile, you hear the Donut Vendor talking to the other students and commenting that they should all be grateful to Prince Leona for establishing that school. Ruggie explains that he heard Prince Leona studied at an arcane academy abroad, then graduated last year and came back home. And he was been establishing schools and spelldrive teams and stuff all over the country. He even comments that the younger generation there likes Second Prince Leona way more than First Prince Falena. But he himself never met Leona.

Then, the school bell rings.

“Oh crud, class is about to start!” Ruggie says. “Gotta go, bye!” He takes your hand and takes you running with him.

The others stayed behind, probably because they knew nothing bad would happen to you since Ruggie liked you so much. And Grim would rather keep eating than go to any classes.

Ruggie and you arrive at a botanical garden hand in hand. Everything indicated that it was a theoretical potionology class, probably focused on the ingredients that were planted there.

The students sat on the ground and despite the idea of a model student that Ruggie was trying to convey, he didn't sit in the front. Instead, he told you to sit with him further back. You sat down first and then Ruggie sat so close to you that your hips were touching and he put an arm around your waist.

“Hey, sorry about that with the visiting students.” Ruggie tells you in a low tone, while the professor spoke up front. “You... aren't mad at me, right?”

You say no and that in fact his pout was actually cute.

“Well, in that case they were lucky.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?” You ask. “And what exactly are you apologizing for?”

“Well, you know...” His ears go down. “You showed up with a bunch of handsome guys and you were even wearing the same uniform as them. What did you expect me to do? They're lucky I still give them the benefit of the doubt before...”

“Before?”

“Do you really want me to finish that?” He smiles mischievously. “What do you think I would do if someone was really trying to take you away from me? Hum?” He brings his face close to yours, brushing his nose against your ear. “You've already seen me break a bone with a bite, haven't you?” He whispers in your ear, a threat not directed at you.

After a while, he covers his mouth to yawn. Next to him one of his friends snored so loudly that it made Ruggie straighten up and let go of his waist, startled. Upon hearing this, the professor called the student's attention and made him move from Ruggie's side to the front row as punishment.

“I can't blame him.” Ruggie tells you in a whisper and leans back against you. “After eating so much and with this sun so nice and warm... it really is relaxing...”

His arm goes back around your waist and he rests his head on your shoulder. He was clearly dreaming that he was in a romantic relationship with you. And it wasn't like you weren't enjoying it..

“If you're not careful you'll be called next.” You say.

“Aww. Are you worried about me, dandelion?” He says in a sleepy voice. “You’re always so cute.” He straightens up to kiss your cheek and lays his head back down again. “I'm really lucky to have you...”

After classes ended, you and Ruggie walked hand in hand with his two friends towards the gate. You see the others in the distance, now in their dorm uniforms. Had they gotten into a fight with the darkness while you were with Ruggie?

“Whatcha wanna do now that school's out?” One of Ruggie's friends asked. “We could see if any cafés in town have new drinks to try, or catch a movie.”

“Yeah... sorry guys, but (Y/N) and I already had plans.”

“Oh, don't worry, it's ok. What are you guys going to do?”

“We're going on a safari!” Ruggie says excitedly. “I heard that some hyena clans had cubs and (Y/N) really wants to see the little ones.” But then, he seems to have heard something that put him on alert and made a strange sound.

“Whoa! Why'd you whirl around like that, Ruggie?” One of his friends asked.

“I dunno, it just... felt like I was being called.”

“Someone called you? Who? I didn't hear anything.”

“Maybe I'm hearing things... HUH?! Where'd that sound come from?! Was it under the bench? I know I'm not hearing things!”

“Huh? What are you talking about? What's gotten into you, Ruggie?”

“Sorry, guys. You can go. I just can't leave until I figure out what that sound is!” Ruggie separates from the NPCs and you and gets on his hands and knees, rummaging around under benches and in the plants. “What is it? What's making that sound? It's like a bell... Except more beautiful and exciting!”

You look at the others, more specifically at Azul and see him drop a coin on the ground with a smug smile.

“AH! That sound... It's a little - no, not a little. It's 20 times more thrilling than before! What IS that beautiful sound? Reveal yourself to me! I just HAVE to find you!”

You see Ruggie searching for the coin, focused and with his tail wagging a little. You can't help but laugh.

“Are you laughin’ at me?" He says with a sly smile. “Why don't you help me instead? That Safari has a set time to start, you know?” He keeps looking, whether you help him or not. “Where are you? Where's the one that entices me so...? AHA!”

Entices him? Even dreaming that he’s dating you, it still seems like he likes money more.

“There's something in front of that trash bin...” He hurries to get there. “Huzzah! That's a free one-thaumark coin for me! Score!” He finally gets up. “Wait... Huh? Why am I getting so giddy over finding a little loose change?” The dream begins to distort. “Urgh, my head...! Why? I've got no reason to care about random coins on the ground...”

“Heh heh heh... I had every faith you would pounce on that.” Azul says, approaching you along with the others. “Do you see this, Ruggie?”

“Is that... a five-thaumark coin?!”

“What's the matter? You're looking a bit pale... And you seem to have a cold sweat.”

“What... are you gonna do with that?”

“I was thinking of tossing it into the water over there and making a wish to come back here again.”

“Five thaumarks?! You're not seriously about to throw that much mone away!” Ruggie said shocked. “Wait, no! Five thaumarks is barely anything at all. It's just spare change... Hrgh!”

“It's the only coin I have on hand. But... it's just 'a little loose change', right? Here goes!”

Azul tosses the coin and Ruggie jumps into the water to grab it with zero hesitation.

“Self-restraint isn't healthy, you know.” Azul tells Ruggie, in a way that is too villainous for someone who is supposedly helping him. “Just admit it... You want it more than anything!”

“Urgh, I... I... Argh, my head...! Ah, aaah... AAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The dream breaks and Ruggie wakes up.

“Ah... Ahaha... I remember everything now... Why was I... ?”

His NPCs friends approach him and ask what happened for him to jump into the water and Ruggie says it was because of 5 thaumarks. When they start saying that it was nothing, Ruggie lists the things that can be bought with only that. He also notices the discrepancies of that academy and remembers why he doesn't like light-colored clothes like the uniform he was wearing, because they stain too easily, exactly what just happened to him while he was looking for the coins.

The NPCs try to convince him to go back to sleep, saying that he will never go hungry again in there. They also say they are on good terms with the king, but Ruggie says he prefers to decide who is his king himself.

After fighting those darkness figures, he asks what in the world was happening because he was beyond confused. Ortho shows him the video.

“So... This is all a dream?”

“Yes.” Ortho confirms. “More technically, it's all part of an arcane realm that Malleus Draconia established.”

“But that... Aaah...” Ruggie drops his glasses from his face, drops down on all fours and burst into tears.

You instinctively crouch down beside him to comfort him and are surprised when he clings to you and continues to cry on your shoulder.

“A dream? You're telling me all the food I've been eating wasn't real?! I got ZERO calories from eating all those donuts I loaded with toppings?! And the six thaumarks I just picked up? And my dad coming home, and him buying my grammy a new car? And (Y/N) and I...”

His sobbing stops suddenly. He straightens up to look at your face and jumps away from you, his face red with blush.

“I-I-I-I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T WANT... I DIDN'T KNOW... I-”

You try to calm him down, telling him that everything is fine, that he didn't do anything wrong.

“Oh, come on! Don't be so understanding and kind!” He tells you, a little annoyed. “You can be honest. You can say that I creeped you out.”

“Why would I say that?”

“Well, you know, when I...” He starts to say, blushing, but then looks at the others around you. He stands up, determined. “Come with me.” He asks you. “You stay here.” He told them as a warning.

You get up and follow him to a relatively more secluded place.

“Listen, I'm sorry, okay?” Ruggie tells you, his ears down, embarrassed and sulking at the same time. “I know I was kinda... clingy... and jealous. Like when we were in that potionology class. You don't have to pretend everything is fine. I'm not an emotional wimp.”

You stay silent for a second, but decide to confess to him that everything really is fine, because you liked him too. You even enjoyed the time you spent with him and how he treated you.

“Y-you... LIKE ME TOO?!” He repeats, incredulously. “Wait... you're the real (Y/N), aren't you? You...” He takes a step back and places himself in a defensive and threatening position. “You're not one of those darkness things from my dream... are you?” He looks at you menacingly and growls at you.

You insist and try your best to convince him that it really is you as you slowly walk backwards. Not even when you hit a wall does he stop walking slowly towards you like a predator preparing to attack. When he’s finally just inches away from you, you flinch, turn your face away, and he attacks you... with a loving kiss on the cheek. And then he tickles you.

“Relaaax~” Ruggie tells you, holding you by the waist, and with that sly smile “I believe in you. Shyeheehee.”

He sees you sulking, but flustered. This makes him smile sweetly, like you've never seen before.

“Aww, don't be mad at me...” He says in a poor-me voice. “I've been through so much here. You saw what Malleus did to me. *sniff* I want to cry so much...” He smirks again. “Doesn't that make a kind soul like yours want to comfort me?”

He rests his forehead against yours and starts rubbing his nose and cheeks against yours. Maybe it'll even tickle you a little. But then, he starts kissing your cheek, continues kissing you until he gets closer to your lips and, perceiving that you want that too, he kisses them. He starts by kissing you softly, but then he intensifies the kiss to an almost starving one. Hungry for the love he so desperately needed but was afraid he would never have.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Dating in a Dream #Ruggie Bucchi #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Ruggie x Reader

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