#especially besides slate

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[animationismycomfort]

hey guys I have a serious question here

and everyone knows to answer a serious question is through POLLS

so



[arcsin27]

I STILL FIRMLY BELIEVE P2IS IS PERFECTLY SUITED FOR AN ANIME ADAPTATION AND SOMEDAY ATLUS BETTER GIVE IT TO ME

Edit: this one sentence post and my one sentence reply made me reach the tag limit for maybe the first time

there absolutely should be anime adaptations of the persona 1 manga and the persona 2 duology they would go so hard

[goldfades]

no men era | chapter four, DAYLIGHT

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | after realizing you were in no shape for a relationship, you decide that you were going to focus on yourself -- that is, until joe burrow makes an appearance again, and this time it wasn't so... smooth.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing too crazy, just more daylight shenanigans. joe being a cocky bastard and some cliches type of stuff, andrei mention for my andrei girlies out there!

The sun was barely up when you decided.

Lying in your hotel bed, wrapped in the pristine white sheets, you stared at the ceiling and made the choice that this—this—was going to be your new era. A clean slate. No more Jayson, no more men, no more attaching your identity to someone else. You weren’t just Travis and Jason Kelce’s little sister. You weren’t just Jayson Tatum’s ex.

You were you.

And maybe you didn’t fully know what that meant yet, but you were damn sure going to figure it out.

You threw off the covers and padded toward the bathroom, the early morning chill nipping at your skin. The hotel suite was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. As you flicked on the bathroom light, the mirror reflected a face that, for the first time in a long time, felt like a stranger’s.

You weren’t sad. You weren’t heartbroken. You weren’t even angry anymore.

You were just... there.

You were in the middle of blowing on your coffee, eyes trailing over the busy street outside, wrapped up in your own thoughts, when the bell above the door jingled.

And just like that, the universe yanked you out of your peaceful little morning like it was some kind of sick joke.

Because he walked in.

Joe Burrow.

Looking unfairly good for someone who very clearly had a rough night. His hair was a little messy, his jawline still faintly shadowed with the remnants of yesterday’s stubble, and—yeah—he looked a little hungover, blinking against the morning light filtering through the café windows.

For a second, it was like time hiccupped, both of you just standing there, staring at each other in mild shock. You, because why was he here, in the same coffee shop as you, at the same time, again? Him, because—well, shit.

Joe had spent the past few days trying (and failing) to push you out of his mind, convincing himself that his weird little crush was just that—a passing thing. He wasn’t the kind of guy to get stuck on someone, especially not someone he had talked to for, what? Two minutes?

And yet, here you were. Again.

Looking like that.

And suddenly, Sam’s voice from last night rang in his head. The whole Jayson thing. The whole Dalton thing.

Joe had spent half the night processing all of that, trying to figure out why it made his stomach twist the way it did. Because—sure, whatever, she was dating Dalton Kincaid. But did she actually like him? Because Joe had eyes, and last night at the event, she looked bored out of her mind.

And, okay, yeah, maybe he had gotten a little too loose, a little too confident last night after a few drinks, because he definitely told Sam that Dalton wasn’t her type. That he was more her type. Which was crazy, because—what the hell did he even mean by that?

But now, standing here in this tiny café, watching as you blinked at him like you were just as confused as he was, he felt that same weird little spark in his chest.

It had to be the universe.

That was the only explanation, right?

Joe didn’t overthink it. He never did.

So he smirked, cocky and confident, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie as he strolled up beside you.

“Damn,” he said, his voice still a little rough from the night before. “You following me, or what?”

You blinked.

Then, slowly, your expression shifted—brows raising just slightly, lips pressing into a flat, unimpressed line.

Oh.

Oh, he was one of those guys.

You exhaled through your nose, turning back to your coffee. “Yeah, totally. Been tracking your every move.”

Joe chuckled under his breath, tilting his head. “That so?”

“Mmhm.” You lifted the cup to your lips. “Didn’t think you’d still be in New York, though. Thought you’d be back in Cincinnati, you know… working.”

He could hear the edge in your voice, the subtle dig, and it made his smirk widen.

“Hey, even I get a break every now and then,” he said, shrugging. “Gotta enjoy the off-season while I can.”

You hummed, barely interested. “Right.”

He should’ve let it go. Should’ve just ordered his coffee, sat at some table, and left you alone.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in a little, just enough to make it feel deliberate, enough to make you glance up at him from the rim of your cup.

“Surprised I didn’t see you with your boyfriend last night,” he mused, voice dropping slightly.

Your eyes narrowed.

Oh, he was really being insufferable.

You weren’t sure if it was the hangover, or if this was just how he always was, but God—he was already irritating.

“I was,” you said simply. “We left early.”

Joe just nodded, like that was interesting, like he was analyzing it. And then he smirked again. “Didn’t look like you were having much fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you would know?”

“I pay attention.”

That made you snort, shaking your head. “You think you pay attention.”

“I know I do.”

He was pushing it. Really pushing it.

You turned fully toward him then, and Joe swore the café suddenly got a little smaller, a little warmer.

“You know, if you’re trying to flirt with me, this is the worst attempt I’ve ever witnessed,” you said, voice dry.

Joe grinned, but before he could say anything, you added, “And just to make it clear—I am dating Dalton.”

That made his stomach twist. Not because he hadn’t already known that. But because of the way you said it, the way you made it so damn clear.

Joe just scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay.”

And then, without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out. Joe stood there for a second, still half in disbelief.

What the fuck was that?

He just fumbled. Bad.

And worse—he had no idea why.

For the first time in his life, Joe Burrow was actually speechless.

He ran a hand down his face, letting out a low breath. What the hell was wrong with him?

“You good, man?”

Joe turned his head, finding Ja’Marr standing in line, staring at him like he’d just witnessed a tragedy.

“No,” Joe muttered. “I think I just lost a game I didn’t even know I was playing.”

Ja’Marr barked out a laugh. “Damn. That bad?”

Joe sighed, glancing toward the door where you disappeared.

Yeah. That bad.

--

Back at the hotel, you were sprawled across the bed in Kylie’s suite, arms flung dramatically over your face as you recounted the absolute disaster that was your encounter with Joe Burrow.

Kylie, meanwhile, was cackling. Not just laughing—full-body shaking, tears in her eyes kind of laughing.

“Oh my God—” she gasped between wheezes, clutching her stomach. “You walked out on him?”

“Yes,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “Like, just straight up turned and left.”

Kylie threw her head back. “Oh, that’s so good.”

“It’s not good, Kylie,” you muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s embarrassing.”

“No, he’s embarrassing,” she corrected, wiping her eyes. “Dude really thought he was him, huh?”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what his deal was. He came in all cocky, acting like—” You waved a hand vaguely. “—like he was God’s gift to football, and I was supposed to just melt or something.”

Kylie snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Well, I’m done with all that,” you declared, pushing yourself up. “No more Jayson, no more Joe, no more men. I’m entering a new era—focusing on me, rebuilding who I am outside of all this—” you gestured dramatically, “—outside of being a Kelce, or Jayson’s ex, or—”

Kylie raised a brow. “Or Dalton’s girlfriend?”

You blinked.

And blinked again.

Because, oh.

Oh, shit.

You had completely forgotten about Dalton Kincaid.

Kylie must’ve seen the realization hit because she promptly burst into laughter again, collapsing back against the pillows.

“Oh my God,” she wheezed. “You forgot about your own boyfriend.”

You groaned, grabbing a pillow and smacking it over your face. “Stop.”

“No, no, this is the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Like, imagine if he knew.”

You groaned even louder. “Stop.”

“I mean, you do realize that’s not a great sign, right?”

You sighed, letting the pillow slide down your face. “I know.”

Kylie propped herself up on her elbows, giving you a knowing look. “So… what’s the plan there?”

You let your head thunk back against the bed. “I don’t know.”

Kylie smirked. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that if you forgot you were dating him, he’s probably not the one.”

You exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

There was a long beat of silence before Kylie added, teasingly, “So… you gonna tell him?”

You turned your head, giving her a flat look. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She grinned. “This is premium entertainment.”

You rolled your eyes, but even you couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips.

Because, yeah.

This was a mess.

And you had no idea what you were going to do about it.

Just as you were about to fire back at Kylie for finding way too much joy in your existential crisis, the hotel room door swung open. The chaos that followed was immediate.

“Daddy, I wanna hold it!”

“No, me!”

“She had it last time!”

Jason walked in, looking exhausted, carrying a coffee tray and wrangling two very energetic kids who were currently in the middle of a heated debate over what you assumed was a muffin or a juice box—whatever prize had been promised to them as a post-breakfast treat.

“Oh, good, you’re still here,” Jason said, barely acknowledging the war waging between his daughters as he handed Kylie a coffee and plopped down onto the couch. “Sid, make a call. We’re putting these ones up for trade.”

Kylie shot him a look as she helped untangle the muffin dispute. “Jason.”

“What?” Jason took a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking to you, then back to Kylie, clearly catching on to the laughter that had not been there when he left. “What’s so funny?”

You groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “I forgot I had a boyfriend.”

Jason, to his credit, did not even blink.

Instead, he nodded and said, “Yeah, that tracks.”

Kylie choked on her coffee. “Jason!”

“What?” He shrugged, setting his cup down. “I met the guy. He’s nice and all, but if you already forgot about him, that’s kind of a sign, don’t you think?”

You groaned again, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s not helpful.”

Jason ignored that. “So what’s the plan? Are you gonna break up with him or just keep going until he proposes and then really freak out?”

Kylie wheezed.

“Jason,” you muttered. “Please. Stop talking.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, it’s a slippery slope. One day, you’re having dinner with him and it’s fine, and then boom—you’re at the altar wondering why you’re about to take his last name when you don’t even remember his middle name.”

You groaned louder.

Jason looked at Kylie. “What’s the problem exactly? She doesn’t like the guy?”

Kylie smirked. “No, the problem is she likes the guys who are bad for her and doesn’t like the guys who are good for her.”

Jason frowned. “That’s stupid.”

You shot up. “I know!”

Jason blinked. “Then… stop doing it?”

You gaped at him. “Oh my God, why didn’t I think of that? Thank you, Jason! Problem solved!”

Kylie laughed so hard she almost spilled her coffee.

Jason just shrugged. “I don’t get why this is hard. You don’t like Dalton. End it. Done.”

You sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” You waved your hands vaguely. “He’s… good. He’s nice. He’s polite. He’s great with your kids.”

At that, Jason narrowed his eyes. “Okay, hold on—are you saying that’s the issue?”

You groaned. “No, I just—I don’t feel it, okay?”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I should feel it!”

Jason made a face. “I think you just answered your own question.”

You collapsed back onto the bed again, defeated.

Kylie smirked and turned to Jason. “She’s also in her no men era.”

Jason scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”

You lifted your head to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

He raised a brow. “Sid, come on. I love you, but you’re a Kelce. You’re genetically incapable of avoiding chaos for longer than a week.”

Kylie grinned. “He’s not wrong.”

Jason leaned back, arms crossed. “I mean, let’s be real—you’re gonna get bored in, like, three days, and then suddenly there’s gonna be some new guy, and boom—we’re back here.”

You scoffed. “That’s not true.”

Jason didn’t even argue. He just sipped his coffee like he was already picturing the next man-related disaster you were going to drag them into.

Kylie turned to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, if you really want to commit to this no-men era, I guess that means no more talking to Joe Burrow.”

Jason snorted.

You glared at her. “Kylie.”

Jason choked. “Wait—Burrow? Joe Burrow?” He burst out laughing. “Oh my God. That is so funny.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No, no, it is.” Jason shook his head, grinning. “That dude is the definition of locked-in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him even look at a woman, let alone actively pursue one.”

“Well, apparently, he tried,” Kylie said, biting back a smile. “And Sid walked out on him.”

Jason cackled. “You walked out on Joe Burrow?”

You groaned. “Can we please move on?”

Jason wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, man. I like this. I really like this.”

Kylie grinned. “Right? I feel like this is the best entertainment we’ve had in years.”

You groaned louder.

Jason leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Okay, hold on. So if Burrow actually wanted to pursue you, what would you do?”

You shot him a look. “I’d tell him I’m in my no men era.”

Jason smirked. “Mmm-hmm. Sure.”

You flopped back onto the bed dramatically. “I hate you both.”

Kylie patted your leg. “Aw, we love you, though.”

Jason just grinned. “This is gonna be so fun to watch.”

--

Joe was still trying to process what the hell had happened back in that coffee shop.

He had walked in, feeling like maybe—just maybe—the universe was on his side. He had opened his mouth, said one thing, and then? Immediate failure. Immediate regret. Immediate cringe.

And now, here he was, back in his hotel room, sitting around with Ja’Marr, Tee, Andrei, and Sam, while they all tried—and failed—to keep their laughter contained.

It was not contained.

Ja’Marr was straight-up wheezing, clutching his stomach like he had just witnessed the single funniest thing to ever happen in his life. Tee was crying actual tears, face buried in his arm on the hotel couch. Sam just shook his head, chuckling under his breath, while Andrei was at least trying to be helpful but was failing miserably.

“Okay, wait, wait—” Ja’Marr gasped between laughs. “She rolled her eyes at you?”

Joe glared at him. “Yes.”

Ja’Marr lost it again, doubling over with laughter. “Oh, my God.”

“I didn’t even say anything that bad,” Joe muttered, still trying to defend himself.

Tee lifted his head, eyes wet from how hard he had been laughing. “Bro. You walked up to her and immediately acted like she should be grateful you were talking to her.”

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I did not.”

“You did,” Sam confirmed, smirking.

“She thought you were a fan, Joe,” Andrei said, shaking his head. “That’s tough.”

Joe just glared at them, all of them, as they continued to laugh at his expense. “Okay, fine. Maybe I came off a little cocky—”

“A little?” Ja’Marr howled.

“—but I swear, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole,” Joe finished, ignoring them. “It just… happened.”

Tee wiped a tear from his face. “Damn. This is worse than I thought.”

Andrei snorted. “I don’t know, man. I think this might actually be good for him.”

“How is this good for me?” Joe snapped.

“Because,” Andrei grinned, “for the first time in your life, you fumbled.”

That set them off again.

Joe just sat there, arms crossed, as his so-called friends lost their minds over his suffering.

When they finally calmed down—two whole minutes of pure humiliation later—Andrei leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, so what’s the plan? You gonna try again?”

Joe hesitated. “…I don’t know.”

Ja’Marr gawked at him. “Are you serious? Since when do you back down from anything?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

Tee smirked. “What? You scared?”

“No,” Joe said immediately, but the thought of messing up again made his stomach twist.

Sam leaned back, arms crossed. “Look, man. If you really want her number, you should just try again before we leave for Ohio.”

Joe exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I can just find her.”

Andrei smirked. “I can.”

Joe’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I can find her number,” Andrei repeated. “I know a guy.”

Joe narrowed his eyes. “What kind of guy?”

Andrei just grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”

Joe did worry about it. “That sounds shady as hell.”

Ja’Marr nodded. “Yeah, man, that’s some stalker shit.”

Andrei laughed. “Relax, I’m not being weird. I just have a friend who does PR for the league, and he might have it. It’s not that deep.”

Joe hesitated. On one hand, yeah, that was technically an option. But on the other? That felt like cheating.

“…No,” Joe finally said. “I want to get it myself.”

Andrei shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then, a slow smirk curled his lips. “Wanna bet on it?”

Joe narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Ja’Marr perked up. “Ohhh, now we’re talkin’.”

Andrei leaned forward. “I bet I can get her number before you do.”

Joe’s jaw clenched. “You just said you were gonna cheat.”

Andrei shrugged. “Didn’t say I’d play fair.”

Sam chuckled. “Damn, Joe, you better not lose to Andrei.”

Tee grinned. “You know his ego can’t handle that.”

Joe’s competitive streak flared at the challenge. “Fine.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and slapped a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the coffee table. “I’m putting money on it.”

Ja’Marr whistled. “Ooooh, he’s serious.”

Joe smirked. “If I win, you all shut the hell up about this forever.”

Tee grinned. “And if you lose?”

Andrei’s eyes gleamed. “Then we get to make fun of you for life.”

Joe huffed. “Whatever. I’m not losing.”

Ja’Marr cackled. “Alright, bet’s on, then.”

Joe leaned back, determined. This wasn’t just about the bet. It wasn’t about proving something to his friends.

It was about her.

And he wasn’t going to lose her.

--

The club was packed, the bass thrumming deep in your chest, the neon lights casting everything in a hazy glow. You were perched in the booth with Travis, Taylor, and Dalton, trying—really trying—to seem engaged in whatever your supposed boyfriend was talking about.

But you couldn’t.

Because Joe Burrow was here.

And you hated that you noticed him the second he walked in.

You refused to look at him, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was even a blip on your radar. And you were already so over this night.

It wasn’t even that clubs weren’t your scene—you could handle the overpriced drinks, the bass rattling in your chest, the way every conversation required a near-shouting volume just to be heard. But tonight? You had no patience for it.

Especially not with Joe Burrow in the same damn room.

You weren’t looking at him. You weren’t. Not even a glance. You kept your focus locked on Dalton, nodding along to whatever he was saying about off-season workouts, even though you weren’t really listening.

Taylor, bless her heart, shot you a knowing look. You ignored it.

Travis, meanwhile, was sulking into his whiskey. “This place sucks.”

Dalton chuckled. “Not really your vibe?”

Travis made a face. “Not really anyone over the age of twenty-two’s vibe.”

Taylor laughed. “And yet, here you are.”

Travis sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just make it quick.”

You were barely paying attention. Because Joe was here.

You needed a drink.

You excused yourself, weaving through the crowd, making a beeline for the bar. You were halfway through ordering when a presence sidled up beside you, way too close, and you just knew.

You glanced up.

Andrei.

Oh, God.

You knew exactly what this was.

The too-casual lean against the bar, the barely-contained smirk, the way he had way too much interest in you, despite the fact that you had never spoken before?

Yeah. He was trying to get your number. And that meant one thing—Joe told them about the café.

You sighed, already annoyed. “Can I help you?”

Andrei grinned. “I don’t know, can you?”

You rolled your eyes. “So this is a thing now?”

He feigned innocence. ���What do you mean?”

You gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb. Joe put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Andrei let out an exaggerated gasp. “Joe? Why would he care?”

You just stared at him.

He smirked. “What, a guy can’t come up and chat with a pretty girl?”

You snorted. “Not when there’s money involved.”

Andrei chuckled, not denying it, which told you everything.

You sighed, shaking your head, already amused despite yourself. “Wow. He really put you guys up to this?”

“Not exactly,” Andrei said. “It was more of a… friendly wager.”

You raised a brow. “What, a bet to see if you could get my number?”

Andrei grinned. “First to get it wins.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Andrei shrugged. “Maybe. But you can’t tell me you’re not at least a little flattered.”

“Oh, so flattered,” you deadpanned.

Andrei chuckled. “Come on, what’s the harm? Just a little number—”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

And then, before Andrei could say another word, he appeared.

Joe.

And damn, did he look annoyed.

“Really, dude?” he said, looking right at Andrei.

Andrei smirked. “What?”

Joe gave him a look.

Andrei grinned, leaning against the bar. “Hey, man. I’m just talking.”

Joe scoffed. “You’re full of shit.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing between them. “This is so stupid.”

Joe ignored you. His eyes stayed locked on Andrei, like he was seconds away from throwing a punch, which was hilarious, because Joe didn’t seem like the type of guy to get worked up over something this dumb.

And Andrei? He loved it.

He smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why? You jealous?”

Joe scoffed. “Of you? Not a chance.”

Andrei raised a brow. “Then why are you here?”

Joe’s jaw ticked. “Because I don’t need you embarrassing yourself.”

Andrei laughed. “Sounds like an excuse.”

Joe huffed, turning to you. “You really entertaining this?”

You smirked. “I don’t know. Maybe I like having two NFL players fight over me.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “We’re not fighting over you.”

Andrei grinned. “Sounds like something the loser would say.”

Joe glared.

You? You were having the time of your life.

Joe sat down on the barstool beside you like he belonged there, like the whole stupid bet hadn’t just happened, like Andrei wasn’t still smirking at him from a few feet away, clearly enjoying every second of getting under his skin.

You didn’t even have to look at Joe to feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves. It was almost too funny. You had known plenty of guys like him before—the cocky, confident, too-talented-for-their-own-good athletes who acted like they had the whole world figured out. Joe, so far, had done a great job of proving he was exactly that type.

And yet…

You took a sip of your drink, side-eyeing him. He was looking straight ahead, like he was actively willing himself to ignore Andrei, who was still loitering nearby, sipping his beer with all the smugness in the world.

“I think he likes you,” you said, just to mess with him.

Joe exhaled sharply through his nose, a half-laugh, half-scoff. “Yeah, okay.”

“I mean, he was laying it on pretty thick,” you teased.

Joe finally turned to you, giving you a dry look. “You think that was flirting?”

You smirked. “I think he was winning.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t winning.”

“Oh, really? Because it kinda seemed like it.”

Joe shook his head, running a hand through his hair before muttering, “This is so dumb.”

You just smiled. “So dumb.”

Andrei finally decided he had enough fun, pushing off the bar and giving Joe one last little clap on the shoulder before walking off into the crowd, still laughing to himself.

That left just you and Joe.

Alone.

You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

Joe sighed, finally facing you head-on. He looked exasperated, like he couldn’t believe this was his life right now. You, on the other hand, were thoroughly entertained.

“Okay,” he said finally, tilting his head slightly, as if he were considering something. “How about we just… start over?”

You blinked.

Joe must’ve taken your silence as hesitation because he immediately rushed to add, “Not like that. I just mean—this whole thing got off on the wrong foot, and I’m not really trying to make a thing out of it.”

You crossed your arms, amused. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Joe sighed, shaking his head. “I’m serious. We started off on the wrong foot.”

“You were an asshole.”

He exhaled, nodding. “Yeah, I was.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, skeptical. “Why do you even care?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you, his blue eyes studying you like he was trying to figure you out.

Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem…” He trailed off, shaking his head like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish that thought.

But something about the way he said it, the way his voice was a little softer, a little less cocky than before, made your stomach flip.

And that was dangerous. Because this was a bad idea.

Kylie’s voice rang in your head from the hotel, her laughter when you had practically forgotten about Dalton, her words about how you always chose wrong. And then Jason, the way he had bluntly pointed out your pattern, how you went for the guys who would make your life messy, complicated, and chaotic.

And Joe? He reeked of trouble.

But… maybe that was fun.

Maybe you didn’t want simple. Maybe you didn’t want safe. Maybe you wanted someone who could keep up.

So you looked at him, at this cocky, confident, aggravatingly attractive man who was now—surprisingly—trying to not be any of those things. And instead of saying what you should say, instead of walking away like you should, you smirked.

“Alright, Burrow,” you said, leaning your elbow on the bar, resting your chin in your hand. “Let’s start over.”

Joe’s lips quirked, like he had just won something.

You ignored the way your stomach flipped again.

[aemondwhoresworld]

STRANGER TO LOVERS

pairing: mafia!cregan stark x reader

summary: after eight months of being in an arrange marriage, mafia boss of the city of winterfell finally confessed his true feelings for his wife, y/n

word count: 1,5k

warning: english is not my first language. modern au, arrange marriage (?), angst to fluff, use of y/n.

masterlist | ADD YOURSELFT TO MY TAGLIST

The city of Winterfell was a frigid, unforgiving place, but it was also the heartbeat of Cregan Stark’s empire. A dynasty of power and shadow, the Stark family had ruled the city’s underworld for generations. Cregan was no exception, standing at the helm of the family’s criminal syndicate. Despite the harshness of his world, Cregan ruled with a code—one that valued loyalty above all. He was feared, respected, and rarely challenged.

But within the icy walls of Stark Manor, a different battle raged. It wasn’t over territory or power but something far more complicated—his feelings for you, his wife of eight months.

Their marriage had been an arrangement, forged not from love but from necessity. Cregan needed an alliance to secure his hold on Winterfell, and your family had deep ties in the South. The union had been strategic, coldly calculated like everything else in his life. Or at least, that’s what Cregan had convinced himself.

You are beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely independent. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on you, Cregan had felt something shift inside him—something he’d never felt before. But he was a Stark, and Starks didn’t show weakness, especially not to their wives. He’d kept his distance, playing the role of the detached husband, leaving you to the sprawling mansion while he handled business.

But over time, that cold detachment had begun to melt. He found himself seeking you out more often, stealing glances when you wasn’t looking, lingering in conversations that had nothing to do with the business. Yet, he remained silent, trapped by his pride and the fear that you could never feel the same.

It was a cold winter evening when everything changed.

The night was quiet, too quiet for Winterfell. The snowfall outside had turned the city into a white, silent expanse. Inside Stark Manor, a fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting long shadows across the walls. You curled up on one of the leather armchairs in the living room, a book resting in your lap. You’d found solace in reading since moving to Winterfell, a way to escape the loneliness that often crept in when Cregan was away.

Tonight, however, you couldn’t focus on the words. Your mind was elsewhere—on your husband.

Cregan Stark was a mystery to you, a man of few words and even fewer emotions. Their marriage had been more of a business transaction than anything else, a way to strengthen ties between their families. But despite his cold exterior, you had seen glimpses of something more—something tender hidden beneath the surface. You just didn’t know how to reach it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up as Cregan entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He was dressed in a dark suit, the fabric tailored to perfection, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Y/n,” he greeted you, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Cregan,” you replied, closing your book and placing it on the table beside you. “I didn’t expect you to be home so early.”

He walked over to the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flames. “There’s nothing more to be done tonight,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “And I wanted to see you.”

The admission caught you off guard. He rarely said anything so direct, so… vulnerable. You studied him, trying to read the expression on his face, but as usual, it was a blank slate. You stood up and walked over to him, your heart pounding in your chest. The heat from the fire warmed you as you stood beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating from his body.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers.

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense. “Do you regret it?”

You frowned, confused. “Regret what?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Our marriage. Do you regret marrying me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected him to ask something so personal, so raw.

“No,” you said after a moment, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it.”

Cregan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Why not?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Because I’ve come to care for you, Cregan. Despite everything—despite how we started—I care for you more than I ever thought I could.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of deception, but he found none. You were telling the truth, and it shook him to his core. He had always assumed you was with him out of duty, out of obligation. But to hear that you actually cared for him? That was something he hadn’t been prepared for.

He looked away, his jaw clenched. “You deserve more than what I’ve given you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve kept you at a distance, thinking it was what was best. But the truth is… I don’t know how to be a husband. I don’t know how to love.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm. “You do love, Cregan,” you said gently.

“You show it in the way you protect your family, in the way you’ve built this empire to keep us safe. You may not say it, but your actions speak louder than words.”

He looked down at your hand, feeling the warmth of your touch seep through his suit jacket. For so long, he had convinced himself that he was incapable of love, that his heart had frozen over in the bitter cold of Winterfell. But you had been slowly thawing it, chipping away at the ice until he could feel again.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve been a fool to keep you at arm’s length.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching for the man before you. “It’s not too late, Cregan,” you said softly. “We can still make this work. But you have to let me in.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected back at him. For the first time in a long time, Cregan felt hope. He placed his hand over your, pulling you closer.

“I love you, Y/n,” he confessed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, but I was too afraid to admit it. Too afraid to lose control.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion. “I love you too, Cregan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I promise I’ll do better,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I’ll be the husband you deserve.”

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his touch. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cregan leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the love and longing he had kept buried for so long. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back, pouring all of your love into that one moment.

When they finally pulled away, Cregan rested his forehead against your, his breathing ragged. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smiled, your heart filled with love and hope for the future. “We’ll figure this out together,” you promised, your voice steady and sure.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the warmth of the fire and their newfound love surrounding them. The city outside may have been cold and ruthless, but inside Stark Manor, there was nothing but warmth and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of emotions and newfound closeness. Cregan made good on his promise to be a better husband, spending more time with you and opening up to you in ways he never had before. He shared the burdens of his empire with you, letting you into his world and showing you the man behind the mask.

You, in turn, supported him every step of the way. You became his confidante, his partner, and his anchor in the storm. The more they shared, the stronger their bond grew, until the walls that had once separated them were nothing more than a distant memory.

But life in Winterfell was never simple. The Stark empire was powerful, but it was also constantly under threat. Rivals from the South, old enemies of the Stark family, were always looking for a weakness, a way to bring them down. And now that Cregan had let you into his heart, you had become his greatest vulnerability.

It was a crisp winter morning when that vulnerability was put to the test.

Cregan had been in meetings all day, discussing the latest threats to their territory. You had spent the morning in the study, catching up on some reading and preparing for a charity event they were hosting that evening. You were just finishing up when the phone rang, the shrill sound breaking

like, reblog if you enjoy this fic, thank you!!

TAGLIST: @r-3dlips

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Adorable 1843 Victorian artist's cottage in Cambridge, NY already has a pending sale. 3bds, 2ba, 2,467 sq ft, $378k. It's the perfect artist's retreat.

It's neatly restored, nothing fancy.

The new owners, especially if they're artists, have a clean slate. Look at the original corner cabinet.

Off the dining room there's the main floor bath and it also opens to the main floor bedroom.

Beautiful cabinetry.

Family room/kitchen combo.

Cute small kitchen.

Back here, there's a closet area with the original closets.

In the back of the house there's a beautiful sunporch with a patio.

The other bedrooms and bath are on the 2nd level. This is a nice, large sunny room.

And, this one can be an upstairs primary. Such a cheerful home.

The upstairs bath is a standard 3pc.

And, finally, there's a nice finished attic.

And, here's the artist's studio. Isn't this pretty?

There's even a wood shop beside several art rooms.

The gardens are gorgeous. .39 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/100-E-Main-St-Cambridge-NY-12816/32904340_zpid/

[1eoness]

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 22 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon ♡

[to clarify, i am 18. anyone <18 and anyone >18 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

[crazyyluvr]

Gotta put Some Color in the Miserable Place — Much to Dirtyhands' Liking

pairing: kaz x gn!reader

summary: A famous graffiti artist has been roaming around Ketterdam for a while now. It was about time you set your sights on the Slat, bare and just waiting to be painted on. A certain gloved man didn't exactly like that.

genre: idk how to label it but it's the beginning of something

wc: 2.3k

content: art-inclined reader, they/them pronouns, kaz getting annoyed, ooc kaz? not sure how to write him properly yet, spraypaint exists because I need it to, fighting

note: just a little something to get me out of my slump — it sucks, i'm sorry

oneshot under the cut :: not edited :: part 1/?

Ketterdam wasn't known to be the most luxurious of cities in Kerch. Yes, it did have places where people with money could settle down and quality napkins for them to wipe their buttcheeks on, but the "slums" part of the city overpowered that luxury. There were numerous criminals, thieves, pickpockets, and people of other illegal occupations roaming around the streets, especially the streets of the West Stave. At every alley, there would be at least some signs of a beating that occurred not too long ago. Even when people inhaled the air, it didn't feel clean.

One of your biggest concerns about the city, however, wasn't about how cleanly it was. What worried you the most was about how damn plain it seemed to be.

Where was the color? The flare? Come on, if people around the lands travel to Kerch for business, they might as well have some pretty things to look at as they cautiously walked on the streets.

You took it upon yourself to rectify that. Which was why, for the past two years, you have been one of the most sought-after criminals of Ketterdam that everyone called the “Painter”. Not because you murdered people or stole kruge, no. It wasn't even because of the fact that you decided to spray your art without permission.

It wasn't really the art that concerned other people (most of the time), but rather where you decided to put it up.

Plain old alley walls weren't the only victims of your spray bottles. Your style ended up on the main doorways of well-known brothels like the Menagerie, or the ground leading to the secret bases of different gangs. It made you a target not only of officers, but of other criminals as well. You may or may not have been the cause of the Dime Lions losing one of their main strongholds to a rival gang because you put skipping stones of Pekka Rollins' name leading to it.

You were flattered by the attention people were putting on you, but you felt unsatisfied. You had tried to put at least a little bit of your art on every visible wall of the West Stave and some of the East Stave as well, but there was something missing. Like there was one part of the Ketterdam map that hasn't been colored by you.

You got the answer to your problem one mundane day, while you were coming back from the market with a bag of groceries.

The Slat.

You had no idea why it hadn't hit you sooner. Sure, the Slat was the home of the Crows besides their bar "The Crow Club." Sure, the gang had been gaining a dangerous reputation this past year. Sure, the man calling the shots was scary as hell.

But it was just perfect.

You had long admired the Crows and their leader Kaz Brekker. You had spotted him going about business during late nights when you decided to test your skills by evading the Wraith that always pursued him (you hadn't been attacked by her, so you assumed that you were really good at sneaking around).

He was a man of business, a boss that liked getting his hands dirty — maybe that was how he got his nickname Dirtyhands. You don't see much of that in Ketterdam, and that interested you quite a bit.

Not to mention he was attractive in his own, ghostly way.

The Slate was also one of the very few canvases that you had left blank in this wretched city due to some unknown and unconscious reason, but now you had just the perfect artwork in mind for it.

—————

Kaz was in a bad mood today.

He woke up to his leg in pain. Well, it was always in pain, but it felt particularly worse that day. He almost face-planted while hobbling down the stairs in the Slat.

He had a small heist, with just him, Jesper, and Inej, but it was still messed up due to the unexpected appearance of a drunk group in the house they were robbing.

He got jumped on by some stupid pickpockets, idiots who were unaware of his identity and his reputation. He didn’t obtain any injury, but the blood that still stained his black gloves and his long black coat made him feel disgusting.

Just when he thought that he would find peace in the Slat, peace in just holing up in his office with no one to bother him, he limps down the streets of West Stave to the home of the Dregs to find a small crowd gathered on the side, murmuring to each other.

They were all members of the Crows, and they were all looking at something that was on the wall of the Slat.

His already creased brows creased further at the sight of the gathering. What were these idiots looking at this time?

Jesper was the first one who first saw him, eyes drifting over his blood-splattered clothes in slight concern.

“What’s going on?” Kaz asked, not giving Jesper the opportunity to worry over him.

“It seems that the Painter finally set their eyes on the Slat,” Jesper replied, his voice containing its usual mischief and mirth.

Kaz forged onwards, making the sharpshooter step aside to make way for Dirtyhands.

The small crowd parted for him as well, conversations dying down to small murmurs as Kaz got a better look at what they were ogling at.

He had to blink to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

When “the Painter” left Jesper’s mouth, Kaz wanted to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. The days when infamous the Painter set sights on establishments or gang bases were the days when gangs or businessmen would get publicly humiliated by the art on their walls. Normally, it would ridicule the head of the place (The Menagerie spent a significant amount of money to wash off and paint over the caricature of Tante Heleen in a horrid neon green outfit) or reveal some interesting gang secrets (two gangs were exposed to be stealing from each other and there was a little war between them).

Which was why Kaz had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing it right.

The artwork on the side of the Slat was a large mural of the Dregs’ signature crow perched on the lip of a cup, but a trail of black roses swirled around it in a spiral. Surrounding it was the Crows’ motto “no mourners, no funerals” in black and white. The irregular red and white shape behind it all emphasized everything, making it look like a banner rather than something someone actually took the time to spray on a wall.

It was unlike any artwork that was spotted anywhere in the city.

And even Kaz, who’s never had any particular interest in art, had to admit that it was nice. Flattering.

Beautiful, even.

"The Painter has their favorites, huh?" A Crow chuckled, making his mates laugh and shake their heads.

"If everyone's done having a staring contest with the wall," Kaz called, making everyone turn to their boss, "get back to work."

And just like that, they lost their interest in the artwork and dispersed. Some drifted away to different alleys to visit some gambling house, most passed by Kaz to finish some unfinished business of theirs, and others went back inside the Slat.

Kaz felt a familiar presence beside him. "Can you find this Painter, Inej?"

The Wraith that appeared out of nowhere replied, "I can try, but they're slippery."

Kaz rose an eyebrow, curiosity piquing. Someone who can evade his best spider? Now that caught his attention.

"Do it. Bring them to me," Kaz said, dismissing her with a wave. He didn't have to look to know that Inej had dissolved into the shadows.

He examined the mural once more, the barest ghost of a smirk on his face. Maybe you can come around to work for me, "Painter".

—————

You were having a good time.

If running away from some angry traders was something people would consider a good time.

"I'll kill you!" One of the men chasing you bellowed, hurling a stone that hit a wooden pillar dangerously close to your head.

You laughed, a manic cackle that only came from someone facing a certain death.

You leaped over crates, weaved through people with barely any gracefulness that would have made dancers feel second-hand embarrassment, but you didn’t care. Being chased around West Stave was one of the best things to do in Ketterdam, and you were enjoying every single bit of it.

You turned left into a random alley, only to find that it was a dead end. You looked upwards, but found only ladders that led to heavily-barred windows. You were trapped.

"Nowhere left to run, scum," A man laughed, his companion grinning as well.

You turned to flash them a charming smile. "Actually there is one way, but you're blocking it, so if you'd kindly move aside so I can peacefully make my leave."

They both looked at each other before turning back to you. "Not until we've got our money."

You pretended to think for a moment, not knowing what they mean, until you widened your eyes. "Oh! The money! That's what you were after? Why didn't you just say so?"

You rummaged through your deep pockets. "Here it is!"

You took a few quick steps forward and took out a spray can, squeezing it and drifting it over the closest man's eyes, creating a thick yellow line across his face.

The man yelled and stepped back in surprise, prompting you to catch his heel in yours and pull, making him fall.

You bent down to punch him twice before rummaging in his pockets, taking out a few loose coins and pocketing them.

You turned to face the other guy, who you found already on the ground with a figure standing above him.

The Wraith.

"Oh." Your gaze alternated between the sudden assistance and the man on the ground, before you decided to focus on the one standing and smiling at them. "Thanks for your help, Miss Wraith. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave —"

You turned, only for Inej to block your exit, making you sigh. "What is it that you want from me this time?"

"For you to come with me to the Slat," Inej responded, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the alley.

You sighed again. This was going to be a long day.

—————

"Look, if this about money, I don't have any. I'm very broke." You stared at the man sitting in front of you, a desk separating him from your standing figure.

The Bastard of the Barrel didn't respond to your statement, opting to just look at you, his eyes examining your movements.

You let the silence drain on for a few more seconds before you lost patience. "What do you want?" You asked, frustrated.

"You're the Painter," He responded, putting his elbows on his table and lacing his gloved fingers together.

You waited for a moment, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't continue, you replied. "Yes."

"Everyone in Ketterdam is aware of your reputation to leaking powerful people's information," Kaz finally continued. "But that's not what's interesting. What intrigues me, is how you acquire the information in the first place, when the Wraith has never spotted you out in the open other than spraying on some random wall."

You shrugged. You had your ways, and if the Dirtyhands didn't know your methods, then there was no way you could reveal them. "I have my ways."

Kaz rose an eyebrow. "I can have you killed right here and now, did you know that?"

"And I’ve gotten out of these chains three minutes ago, did you know that?" You mocked him, shrugging the cuffs off and tossing them on his table. Inej moved, pulling out a dagger. Kaz put up his hand, and Inej paused, waiting.

You approached the desk, putting your hands on it and leaning forward, leaving half a feet of space in between your face and Kaz's.

"You want to know my methods so you can have the Wraith master them and use them," you said, leaning a bit more. "But then she can't. No one in this place can do what I can."

"I suppose there's an underlying deal somewhere in those words," Kaz hummed, seemingly unfazed by the distance.

You grinned. "Indeed there is. I can work for you, as long as I get paid. I'll do my thing, get your information, even infiltrate a few places if you like."

"Hmm," Kaz thought about it for a moment. "Two thousand kruge for each mission."

You paused. That would be enough to buy your food and pay your rent for a week or two, maybe even enough for some new clothes.

Yeah, you didn't have that good or luxurious of a lifestyle, but hey, money is money.

"Alright," You decided, sticking your hand out to seal the deal.

Kaz stared at your hand for a moment, before taking it. You pulled him up from his chair, face now barely away from yours. "If you think about double-crossing me and leaving me out in the cold, then you risk some of your own information being revealed... Rietveld." Your voice was barely louder than a breath, words only for Kaz’s ear.

His eyes widened, looking at you. Just the mere mention of his old last name, the one he shared with his brother, was enough for the water at his ankles to pool around his knees.

But you had already pulled away, brushing against the Wraith with a nod as you left the office without another word.

"What was that?" Inej asked — more like demanded.

Kaz didn't spare her a glance, his eyes glued to the door. It took him a long pause to reply.

"The start of another painful alliance," Kaz muttered, running his hand through his hair.

The start of something indeed.

[asunflowerana]

sunday couple — satoru gojo

summary: Satoru does anything for good and cheap food, especially making you his girlfriend.

warnings: satoru is on his early twenties, friends to lovers, lots of banter, gojo smooth like butter. wc: 1400+

a/n: satoru could take me to eat crickets, and I'd still follow this stupid gorgeous man.

The red, and yellow lamps hanging on poles illuminate Shibuya’s central square, crowded with citizens scouring the fair full of assorted supplies. The smell of cardamom powder from a spice stall enters your nostrils, making your nose numb as you try to follow your friend Satoru, the one who left you behind for a taiyaki seller. 

You never thought you’d be traded for a fish cake, but here you are. 

Satoru checks the pockets of his pants in front of him, taking the coins and handing them to the friendly old lady owner of the sweets. She gives him one small cake, and you can almost see him salivating with the piece of sugar in his hands. 

“Your grandma taught you to share, Toru.” You counter with arms crossed, at the same time as he fills his mouth with a good bite of cake, the chocolate ganache sticking out to the sides and smearing his fingers. He breathes in pure relief, and you wonder how hungry he really was since you both went outdoors. 

“It’s too small for two.” He has the courage — stupidity is better — to eat the last piece of the taiyaki in front of you, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the remains of bran and stuffing after that. You could cut his white hair right there. 

“Then buy me another one,Toru! I’m hungry too!" 

”Sweets aren’t good for your teeth, little ______.“ He sends you his special sunny grin, moving his hand to call you closer, his black jacket hanging loose on his shoulders. "C'mon, I’ll find you a diner. My treat.”

His smooth manner almost makes you forget for a moment that he had just refused to share that sweet with you. Not even a little apology, what a goon.

“You better,” Mumbling, you join his pace, walking right beside him as you both stroll through the park.

You were supposed to be at home watching the six-hour marathon of your favorite comedy show, but Satoru showed up at your door in the afternoon, puppy eyes asking you to help him pick out a present for Shoko’s birthday next week, and you couldn’t say no. Not only because you wanted her to have something nice, but because unfortunately, Satoru has a special power over your heart, that makes you want to say yes even if he shows up at 4 AM in the morning for a bike ride through town — which actually happened once, but that’s a story for another time. 

He had this infuriating power since third grade, when both became neighbors and he decided to kick a soccer ball right to your window, giving you quite the fright. You can remember the way you threw the ball on his chest, mad at the crazy boy who didn’t stop laughing and left without a single scratch. 

The crazy boy that owns a part of your heart, a part that you wish could be noticed by him. But Satoru has always been too unpredictable to read, especially when it comes to his emotions. 

A new smell, fried fish and miso soup catch your attention, and a man in his forty approaches you both, coming out of a small but attractive restaurant, izakaya type. He wears casual clothes, portraying a very large smile and belly. 

“Come close young couple, here at Goro’s house you’ll find Shibuya’s best of the best food to fill your hungry tummies, ho ho ho-” You both look at each other with the same frown on your faces. Does this man think you’re in kindergarten? 

Well, Satoru actually has the face, but anyway. 

“...and lucky for you, today is a couple's Sunday!” This caught your attention. 

“What do you mean by "lucky for us”, sir?“ The man’s eyes pop even more open, excited for more clients. 

"Every Sunday couples only pay half for the dinner combo! Here is on our board.” He points at the medium black slate place beside an array of plants at the izakaya’s entrance. 

“COUPLE’S SUNDAY: 50% OFF FOR COUPLES BUYING THE SPECIAL GORO’S FISH COMBO." 

"Wait,” Satoru gulps down, his hands almost trembling from such good news. “So couples really pay half for dinner?” 

He abruptly catches your hand in his, his warmth heating your skin and making your heart flutter in response. “Because we totally are!” He practically shouts that, with a huge grin on face like a kid spotting a candy store. He looks at you, shining marine eyes gazing at yours with excitement. 

“Right, baby?" 

You don’t even know how to react, completely shocked by the nickname that you’ve always daydreamed of him calling you. The way it comes out of his mouth, with his voice, it’s such a precious moment, you can’t believe it’s all for a ridiculous excuse to get a food discount. Before you realize your situation, you’re already seated by a diner table, your friend on the opposite chair in front of you, his goofy smile still on his face as he checks the menu.

His hand remains holding yours on the table, and you can already feel the sweat forming on your palm from the heat and your nerves.

"What… in the world just happened?” You blurt it out, confused as ever.

“Told you I’d buy you dinner, dear  _____. And guess what?” He leans his torso towards you, his chest pressing on the wooden table keeping you both apart. “They have free dorayakis for dessert." 

Rainbows could come out of him by now. 

”But we’re not a couple, you dumb!“ You hiss, leaning just the same as he did, worried that the customers around might notice your facade. 

”I know, we’ll just keep pretending and it’ll all be good.“ Satoru is really good at acting, talking to you like he was babbling sweet praises like those dorky clingy couples. 

He’s such a tease, and he doesn’t even know. Actually, you think he does know it.”Toru, this is not a—" 

A waiter comes to your table, making you both split from your previous position and sit right in your seats. From his trail, he places on the table bowls of udon, plates of unagi, portions of tempura, and green tea. The smell from the steam coming out of the dishes is so amazing, that the only thing your brain processes now is food.

“You were saying?” Satoru playfully questions, thanking the waiter before picking up his chopsticks and digging the thick noodles before him. 

“…..Fine.” You surrender, not really having the strength to refuse this. “But if there’s only one dorayaki later, it’s mine." 

"We can share." 

”But sweets aren’t good for your teeth, little Satoru.“ You mock him right after sucking a noodle into your mouth, the food tasting much better now that you can see his speechless face scrunching up. 

"That’s totally unfair!” He protests, crossing his arms with a pout, a piece of nori on the corner of his mouth. “I’m your boyfriend, you should treat me nice." 

You wish your heart wouldn’t beat so fast. 

But since you’re both pretending, you may as well enjoy it. "First lesson for you: don’t ever let your girlfriend be hungry. Ever." 

"If I give you all of my tempura, will you share the dorayaki?” You hum, pretending to think. “C'mon now, baby! I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

In the end, you let him have a good bite of dessert, which is kinda fair since he was the one paying for the whole meal. That dinner really made you heavy, tummy full of food, completely satisfied and pleased. You even wrote down the name of the place, to come back with your friends in another opportunity.

And it seems that your friend also had a similar idea. 

“Are you free next Sunday?” He asks, walking ahead of you, his gaze facing the starry sky as he ponders something alone. 

You know sometimes he likes to venture ahead to ease his mind when there’s something on it, so you don’t mind him going a few feets ahead, knowing he’s still aware of your surroundings even if you’re behind him.

Satoru never failed to protect you. 

“You’re not planning on doing the dating story again, right?” You chuckle, sensing that this will become a Sunday routine for both of you. “They’ll start suspecting if we keep coming every week, you know we’re not really dating.”

“Then let’s date for real.” And again, he turns his wholesome blue gaze towards you, offering another one of the famous, breathtaking Satoru’s grins. But in this case, this one is reserved only for you. 

“How about that?”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Hi !

I am very sorry to bother you, but I wanted to make a small remark. You talked a lot about the Knight of Eon recently, which is amazing because she is really badass, but you're using the wrong feminisation of "chevalier" to talk about her. "Chevalière" means signet ring, while "female knight" would be "chevaleresse"

This is a very fair error, especially if French is not your native language (French speakers often make this error as well, as "female knights" are rarely discussed) and it's already really cool to see someone putting efforts to gender her title correctly

Anyway, I love your blog and sorry for the nitpicking !

Oh thanks!

It always really annoys me when people insist on using they/them pronouns and the masculine version of her title for her. Because like yes, obviously as with any gender variant historical figure it can be very hard to say for certain what she would've considered her gender given the modern slate of options. But I always feel like people ignore the fact that she was pretty emphatic about wanting to be seen as a woman After she transitioned – everyone talks about supporting late in life transitions, and then gets all cagey about this particular historical figure. Like she made the king of France pay for her new wardrobe of gowns and then got him to officially declare her (in modern parlance) cisgender

She wrote an entire autobiography being like "oh yes, I was definitely assigned female at birth, but my parents needed an heir so I was just raised as a boy!"

That's an awful lot to commit to if, as some people think, this figure didn't actually necessarily want to be seen as a woman but it was a condition of returning from exile. Like it was a condition of returning from exile that she live as a woman, yes, but… This is a level of committing to the bit that doesn't really seem to fit any circumstance besides "she was a woman"

Anyway, I really appreciate the correction! I will use it going forward

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 16

▪ Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Breeding

▪ Genre: Comfort, Fluff, and Smut

▪ Word Count: 2.1k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Seungmin, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breeding kink, creampie

▪ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Slate Grey and White <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

Stress has an interesting way of translating all of your emotions into sadness, and it's only become more apparent to you as you've gotten older. You don't quite understand it, maybe it's just the feeling of being so undeniably overwhelmed that everything just comes crashing down on you at once and all you can really do in response is...cry.

More times than not, you try to take the time to find the root of the problem, the starting point of your stress in hopes of figuring out a solution, but you give up when the tears start. Too tired and worn down to think, so you just let your emotions take over instead.

You're sat quietly on you and Seungmin's shared bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you gaze out your large bedroom window. Tears tread gently down your soft cheeks, soaking into the fabric of your oversized shirt as you let them flow freely, tired of wiping them away as you let out a frustrated huff.

Normally, you try to deal with your emotions on your own, not wanting to worry Seungmin with anything that you're going through or dealing with, especially with everything he himself has going on. He's told you, more than once, that he wants to be here for you the same way you are for him, but you still worry that venting to him will be the final thing that overloads his plate.

You do admit, it seems a bit unfair. He always confides in you, telling you anything and everything that's bothering him, and you listen attentively and do what you can to help him through his struggles, but you never give him the opportunity to do the same.

Seungmin knows you like the back of his hand, and even when you don't tell him something's bothering you, he always knows.

This time is no different.

You can hear the faint sound of his footsteps coming closer, and you quickly wipe away your tears when you realize he's coming into the room. He gently opens the door, closing it just as gently once he walks in before he watches you force a smile for him. He lets out a soft sigh as he walks to your side of the bed, standing right next to you as he gently pulls you against him. You try to stay quiet, but your sniffles give you away, and once they do, you let go completely.

Seungmin runs a comforting hand along the expanse of your back as the other cradles your head against his tummy. He doesn't shush you, doesn't speak, just stands there quietly, holding you as you cry. He does this until your cries die down, just a few sniffles here and there as silence settles into the space. Seungmin moves to lay on the bed next to you, rubbing at your shoulder as you peer over at him.

"Come here, baby." He gently calls, patting his lap.

You kneel beside him, throwing a leg over him so both your thighs are resting on either side of his own before you all but collapse into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Is there anything you wanna talk about?" He quietly asks, feeling you softly shake your head in response.

"Not right now," you answer, taking a deep breath before you continue. "I don't even really know what's making me so upset."

"That's okay, baby," he replies, rubbing at your back again, "I'm here if you change your mind."

You only nod in response, feeling another wave of emotions hit you just from how caring and understanding your boyfriend is. You sit up, a single tear gliding down your cheek as you look at Seungmin. He looks back at you with so much love in his eyes as he carefully wipes away the tear, holding your face in his hands as you lean in.

You press a kiss to his lips before you pull away just to look at him, an overwhelming amount of love circling through every fiber of your being as you visually trace his features.

"I love you." You whisper out to him, feeling him draw gentle circles into your hips.

"I love you, too." He whispers back, a fond smile pulling at his lips as you lean in again.

His lips are soft against yours, warm and inviting as they mold perfectly with yours. His hands come to gently cup your cheeks, holding you as if he's scared you're going to break as you deepen the kiss. He can feel your warm tears hit his thumb, and he mindlessly swipes them away with his thumbs each time they spill past your closed eyes.

"Minnie, please," you start, breaking the kiss just to nuzzle into his neck as you speak. "I need a distraction."

"What kind of distraction, baby?"

He patiently waits for your answer, hugging you closer as you both sit in silence for a moment. Normally, your distractions consist of movies and takeout, a game you two play together, or just a simple nap, but this time is different. You pull away from his neck, sitting up to look at him as you place both your hands on his chest. He looks slightly confused as he watches your every move, then you roll your hips against his once.

This manages to take you both by surprise, pulling a gasp out of Seungmin as your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Is that what you want, baby?" He asks, looking up at you as he watches you debate for no longer than a second before you nod vigorously, rolling your hips again.

"Please, Minnie." You breathe out, letting your body move of its own accord as you grind against him.

His hands find purchase on your hips, stilling your movements as you let out whines of protest.

"It's okay, baby." He quickly soothes, sitting up until his face is just an inch away from yours. "Just hold on for me, pretty."

He looks into your teary eyes with the softest expression, silently reassuring you as he quickly frees his length. Once he does, he slides his hands under the fabric of your oversized shirt, letting his hands slide from your waist, down to your bare thighs. He softly kneads the flesh, letting his thumbs rest dangerously close to your heat just to hear you whine before he swiftly pulls your panties to the side.

"Go ahead, pretty," he breathes out, grabbing his length at the base before pressing his tip to your entrance, "sit on it for me, baby."

You let out a choked moan at just his words alone before you slowly sink down on him, your mouth hanging open as you take in more of him.

"There you go, baby, just a little more." He encourages, feeling you clench around him as he bottoms out.

You stay still for a minute, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as you bury your face in his neck. You can feel him pushing his hips up against yours, shallow thrusts to keep him satiated while you adjust until you raise your hips until he's only halfway inside you before you drop your hips to meet his.

Moans slip past both your lips as you slowly bounce on his cock, taking him as deep as he'll go as you let out soft cries of pleasure against the warm, soft flesh of his neck. Seungmin can feel your walls tighten around him every time you take all of him, and he grips at your hips in an attempt to stabilize himself.

"Fuck, baby, you have to stop squeezing me like that or you'll make me cum inside you." He groans out, feeling you clench around him again as your eyes roll back.

"Please, Minnie, please," you mewl out, your walls throbbing around Seungmin's length as you think of him cumming deep inside you.

Seungmin falls back against the headboard, taking you with him as he gets lost in the feeling of your warm, wet walls hugging his cock so perfectly. His hands grip at your hips as he helps you bounce on him with more force, hearing your breathy moans quickly turn into high-pitched moans of his name and barely coherent pleas.

This is Seungmin's favorite way to take you, slow and rough as you mindlessly babble out things that you can only confess in a state as emotionally fragile as this. There's something about this particular mindset of yours that allows you to give in to all the things you're craving, and its things you normally keep to yourself. It gives Seungmin a glance of what you normally think about but are just too shy to say. He loves it, but knowing that all you want is for him to cum deep inside you, has his mind spinning, and his body reacting in ways that are out of his control.

"Tell me what you need, baby." He moans out, his head falling back against the headboard as you mindlessly suck marks onto his neck.

"N-Need you to cum inside m-me, please!" You stutter out, your voice quiet and unstable as you bounce in his lap. "Need it so bad, Minnie, fuck-"

The moan that leaves Seungmin's lips is almost enough to make you cream around his cock, his thrusts speeding up as sharp gasps leave your lips. His hand snakes between your thighs, roughly rubbing at your clit as he watches you wither on top of him.

"Cum for me first, then I'll breed you till you're full of me, baby." You choke at his words, your eyes screwing shut as you bury your head further into his neck.

Loud, high-pitched moans spill endlessly past your parted lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten before it unravels a second later. Your vision goes black as all your noises get caught in your throat, the pleasure so overwhelming you go completely silent before a choked sob tears through the silence. Seungmin wraps an arm around your middle for support as he continues to bounce you on his cock, his pace increasing as he chases his high.

"Holy shit-" he groans out, feeling you tremble in his hold as he angles his hips to hit that spot deep inside you that will have you cumming around him again in no time.

He feels your entire body tense against him as you let out a shriek, your legs tightening around him as a weak attempt to run from the pleasure.

"You ready for me, baby?" He asks you, his voice shaky as he comes dangerously close to his high. "Gonna let me stuff you full?"

"Please, please, please!" You chant out, feeling your second orgasm approach at record speed.

Seungmin slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he'll go before he spills his release inside you. He holds you still as you cum around him for a second time, his release triggering your own as your mouth falls agape and your eyes roll back at the feeling of his warm cum coating your walls. Every nerve in your body is on fire as you pulse around him, your walls repeatedly tightening around his cock to milk him dry.

"M'so full, Minnie," you breathe out, feeling his hips buck up into you at your words. "Keep going, please, need it deeper."

Seungmin feels like he's going to lose his fucking mind, and he can't help the way his hips immediately move to fuck every drop of his cum deeper into your cunt at your polite request. He powers through his own overstimulation, shallowly thrusting into you until his mouth falls open as he cums inside you again without warning.

He holds you in his arms, both of your bodies spent as he collapses back against the bed with you melting into him. The room falls silent except for you and Seungmin's labored breathing and the faint sound of rain drops colliding with your window.

You can feel yourself drifting, exhaustion crawling into every muscle of your body as your eyes inevitably close, sleep taking over you as Seungmin rolls onto his side, taking your sleeping form with him. He pulls you closer, trying to ignore the feeling of his cum dripping out of you around his length that's still buried inside you as he listens to your calm, steady breathing.

He smiles to himself, happy to see you finally at ease as he rests his cheek on the top of your head. He doesn't know what exactly lead to this craving of yours, but in all honesty, he doesn't think he'll question it, or this new method of distraction.

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

This days a liiiiil personal to me, so I hold it very near and dear to my heart <3

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©2021 - 2024 all rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 16th, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Take it. TAKE THE FLUFF-

~ The Chain had just set up camp in Wilds Hyrule, near the Hebra Region according to Wild. You were cold. Every little gust of wind would make you shiver, and the icy dirt beneath you did not help.

Legend was in a similar state. He had shorts on, for Hylias sake. And a general lack of a warmer outfit. Plus, especially on Koholint, it was always pretty warm so he wasn't well adjusted to the cold.

He noticed your suffering being similar to his own and debated for a solid minute, glancing over to see if anyone would notice. Wind and Wild were trying to see how big the fire could get (not a cause for concern at all), Time and Twilight were off talking somewhere, Sky was dead asleep, and the rest were having an argument on Nayru knows what.

Nobody had to know.

He awkwardly strolled over to you and sat down beside you, clearing his throat.

"Um... Y-Ya cold?"

You answered his question when another gust of wind came, making you shiver violently.

He huffed out a slight laugh, scooting a little closer to you.

"Me too... U-Um, you wanna like- C- Huddle for um, warmth?"

You didn't need to be asked twice. Instantly you let yourself snuggle up to him, leeching off of his heat whilst he did the same. He sighed in relief of not getting the rejection he was expecting, laughing a bit and hugging you gently.

-

Time had found your two once he came back and sighed, taking a blanket he had with him and draping it over you both. He was glad Legend could be warmer, in more ways than one.

The old man didn't tattle, but Wilds Sheikah Slate had a new photo and Warriors a new thing to tease Legend about. A win for the whole family.

~

this is precious. absolutely adorable. sweet as sugar. i saw this and literally was kicking my feet and bundling up in blankets (i’m not joking to any extent) This is- it’s beautiful

…it may even be melting my angsty heart

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader (afab)

genre: dark academia college au. nonidol!hyunjin. enemies to lovers // academic rivals. angst. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. kindaa toxic relationship between hyunjin and reader since they're enemies in uni. ANGST!! reader comes from a poor background and hyunjin is the uni dean's prodigy son. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 10.6k (enjoy you filthy animals 😈)

summary: ever since you started studying at korean national university of arts in seoul, hwang hyunjin, the other top student of the school and the dean's son, has been an absolute thorn in your ass. although, it turns out that not all thorns are necessarily bad.

18+ warnings: dom!hyunjin x sub!reader. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends). fingering. dirty thoughts/fantasies are mentioned. degradation (whore, slut, bitch, etc). pet names (baby girl, sweetheart, doll face, etc). LOTS of hair pulling. BIG ownership/possession kink. breeding kink!!!. overstimulation. orgasm control. nipple/breast play. lots of dirty talk. subspace. loud sex. manhandling. humiliation kink. exhibitionism (fucking in a public library).

a/n: first of all, i'd just like to give a BIG shoutout to my dear friend @ahactress, for giving me the initial prompt to this about a month ago haha- without your help, I wouldn't be here right now honey!! 🤭💙 also, i'm sending all my love to my beautiful bestie @h0p3l3ssromantic, for encouraging me with her pretty words and her endless love... girl, you RULE and ilysm!!! 😫❤️ I don't know if it's public knowledge around these parts, but my dms on all my sns platforms are ALWAYS open for ya'll to spew your ramblings about my work haha - hmu on twt babes, I'm always down to chat~ ✨

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ᴅᴏ ɴ��ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

  The moment you saw the dark, heavy clouds swirling low in the sky as you walked to your Survey of Humanities class, you knew that the day was going to be a shitty one. Already, you had woken up with a raging headache from the all-nighter you had pulled the day before to finish all of your homework for the following week. 

 Besides, it was a Monday too, and you fucking hated Mondays. 

 For one thing, the start of the new week always meant being bombarded with loads of assignments from the four classes you were taking. Being a junior with a Liberal Arts major was not as easy as everyone thought it was — and you constantly felt like you could never catch up on all of the homework. 

 With two formal art classes, one on charcoal drawings and the other on watercolor techniques, and then two upperclassman Humanities classes, your schedule was packed with studying time. Sometimes, it was hard to even eat during the day, since you were so busy with your schoolwork. 

 But there was no way around it, no excuses that could be made. 

 You either continued to stay at the top of your classes, as one of the best students in your grade for your graduation year, or you didn’t. 

 Your mother didn’t sacrifice everything she had for you to fail so horribly at university. 

 So you were okay with the stress and deadlines. Because you wanted to make both her and yourself proud. 

 And yeah, maybe you also wanted to prove to your classmates that you could do it. 

 You especially wanted to brag about your success to a certain man… 

 Hwang Hyunjin. 

 He was slated to graduate in your same year and was studying Technical Art. And holy shit— was he an insufferable ass. Unfortunately, since the two of you shared such close majors, you had found yourself in one too many classes with him during your time at the Korean National University of Arts in Seoul. It also didn’t help that he was coined as one of the #1 students in the entire school, and did everything in his power to make everyone aware of this fact. 

 Especially you. 

 If he earned just two points more than you on an exam in the same class that you were taking together, he’d nonchalantly wave the white paper in front of you after the exam period, taunting you with his sly tongue and that cruel grin of his. 

 Most of the time, you managed to ignore his wicked teasing, sticking to yourself and your small group of study buddies. But on the rare occasion that he did get under your skin, you’d snap irrevocably and usually land yourself in the Dean’s office. 

 But of course, Hyunjin was also there because — news flash — he was the son of the fucking Dean of the university. 

 Usually, the meetings after your blowups were casual and spoken in soft voices, with Dean Hwang recounting the school’s long integrity policy to you, which you had already memorized in the back of your head after your third visit to his office. The entire time the Dean reminded you of how your ‘behavior was uncalled for in the situation,’ Hyunjin would be standing in the corner of his father’s office, arms folded across his chest and canting his head to the side as he studied you with a pleased little devilish sneer on his face. 

 After every single one of the meetings, he’d always try to catch up to you outside of his father’s office. This usually landed in you cursing him out under your breath and telling him to fuck off before you retreated into the shadows of one of the many hallways. 

 And as it just so happened, your Survey of Humanities class also had a certain raven-haired man constantly sitting in the farthest seat from the front of the lecture hall. 

 It was almost comical how good-looking he was, coupled with his genius brain. Because as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was incredibly smart… in both the arts and all other forms of academics. He aced every single quiz and exam he was given, got 100s on every technical art research essay he wrote, and was involved in practically every club there was on campus. 

 The girls of your grade fawned all over him, and even the freshmen were weak to his looks whenever he’d pass them in the hallway. He looked right out of an early 2000s fashion magazine, with his model-like physic, long, shaggy black hair that perfectly framed his face and curled at the nape of his neck, not to mention the expensive designer clothes he was always seen in. 

 You had never seen him dress like the other guys of his same age — had never seen him clad in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and a worn oversized graphic tee. Instead, he rolled up to the curb of the university in his cherry red 2023 Rolls Royce, dressed to the nines in fitted coats, light-washed designer jeans, and crisp white button-downs. 

 Hwang Hyunjin had been the school’s ultimate heartthrob for as long as you could remember, and you had heard rumors of the kind of things he did with his lovers — taking his girlfriends out to expensive restaurants in the heart of the city, before bringing them back to his luxurious apartment and fucking them late into the night. Usually, you tended to ignore the dating and sex part of your arch nemeses' life, and instead just focused on beating him at his own game of academics. 

 And during that early Friday morning in the middle of October, as you strolled through the doors of the lecture hall and your eyes scanned over the students already seated, you caught sight of him.

 Dressed in a casual, brown turtleneck and dark-washed jeans, he looked like he had just walked straight out of an autumn edition of GQ Men. He was seated in his usual place, legs crossed and hands busy scribbling away notes on his iPad. As you floated beside him and towards your seat at the very back of the hall, you caught the scent of him — a mix of earthy musk and dark roasted coffee beans. 

 He didn’t pay you the time of day as you flitted past him and took out your notebooks once you were seated down. Thankfully, he seemed to be choosing the route of ignoring you for the day, much to your relief. 

 Soon, the professor strode into the lecture hall and began the class. For a while, he droned on about the midterm that all of the students had taken the week before, and how he was impressed with the class’ results. “Although, two students in particular outshined everyone else,” he began, his eyes scanning the lecture hall until they landed on Hyunjin seated just two rows before you. “Hyunjin, excellent work — it’s quite rare that I see a student score a 100 on the midterm,” then his focus was floating upward and landing on you. “Y/N, you’re short essay for the midterm was superb, and your choice of art analysis was a very unique one for sure.” 

 Just as the professor was focusing back on the rest of the course material, you could sense someone’s gaze trained on you. Staring forward, you caught a glimpse of him shooting you a snarky grin. You glared daggers into his skull, just wishing that he’d get shot in the foot and keel over in pain at that moment. 

 He always liked to gloat when he got a higher score than you on the tests, and you both knew that he had done better on the test overall — since the professor only mentioned his 100 and not yours. But apparently, your midterm essay was a hell of a lot better than his. 

 Sticking out your tongue at him playfully, you rolled your eyes before folding your arms across your chest and turning your attention back on the slides that the professor was ticking through. Hyunjin got under your skin so much he sometimes felt like a fucking disease — burrowed so deeply inside your veins, it was almost impossible to cut out the hatred. 

 “For this week’s assignment, you guys will be paired up into groups of two to create a joint presentation on the topic of ‘The Descent into Madness,’” As soon as you heard the professor mention splitting the class into groups, you felt your heart leap inside your chest. You only hoped that you wouldn’t be paired up with him. “Using your textbooks as a guideline, I want all of you to choose one specific piece of art from any period you want and conduct deep research into the mad aspects of it — dive into as much detail about the formal elements as you’d like, but make sure to follow the grading rubric and cite all academic sources. I’ve posted the list of paired groups on the bulletin board up here near the projector, so make sure to check it before you leave class today.” 

 You tuned out all other information the professor gave about the week’s assignment, too focused on seeing who you were paired with. As soon as he dismissed class, you were shooting up from your seat and hoisting your heavy tote bag across your shoulder. 

 Flitting down the stairway, you made it to the bulletin board before all of the other students did. They were idling around because no one gave two shits about who they were paired with. No one except for you. 

 “Please, please, please—” You prayed in a whispered tone under your breath as your eyes scanned the matched columns of students. When you came upon your name and saw who was next to it, it felt like the ground at your feet had opened right up and sucked you in entirely. “Fuck my life.” Heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, your palm squeezed a little tighter around the strap of your bag. 

 “Oh shit— looks like the professor decided to give you a fighting chance by pairing you up with the best student in the entire school.” You heard Hyunjin’s silky voice say from somewhere behind you. 

 Swinging around on your heels, you caught a glimpse of his sardonic, wide smirk, as his eyes scanned the look of sheer anger on your face. Giving a dry, humorless chuckle, he shoved his hands into his pockets and canted his head to the side in a quizzical kind of way. 

 “We’re only going to ace this project because of me— and let’s be clear here, I’m the better writer out of the two of us.” You said in a low voice, pointing an accusing finger at him in utter disgust. You could feel your brows pulling together from the rage that was building up inside of you. And all from the thought of being forced to work with him. 

 “Yeah, but I’m the better test taker.” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 Hyunjin chuckled wickedly, the tip of his blush pink tongue coming out and wetting a corner of his plush bottom lip. “Oh honey, I’m sure you wish you could.” 

 Already, you could tell that he was egging you on. Trying to get your goad so that you’d explode and be dragged to the Dean’s office. So that he could stare down at you with that same smug look on his face as his precious little daddy rattled off the university’s code of conduct. 

 Well fuck that bullshit. 

 Seeing too much red, you decided to excuse yourself from the equation before you said something horrible that got you sent into the Dean’s office again or even worse — kicked from the class. 

 “I’ll see you on Monday night at ten in the library,” you said in finality, squinting your eyes up at him and just wishing you could wring your hands around his perfect little neck. “Don’t be late.” 

 “I don’t take orders from you, sweetheart.” 

 “For now you sure fucking do.” 

 Then you were turning around and pushing out of the lecture hall, practically running down the corridor as fast as you could, heart pounding in your chest because… what the hell were you going to do? 

 That entire weekend leading up to the Monday night that you planned to spend with Hyunjin, you just about lost your mind over the worry of it all. Would he continue to be an asshole to you the entire time? Would he work well with you and compromise on things? How would everything go? 

 You were so stressed about the entire thing that you practically drove your roommate Felix insane with annoyance. Late Sunday morning, when you were making circles around your living room couch as you stressed about everything, he finally burst out in a loud outcry. 

  “Y/N! You seriously need to take a chill pill, you’re going to run holes right into the fucking carpet!” He said in an exasperated tone, muting the show that he was watching on the large flatscreen TV. 

 Peering up at him with wide, guilty eyes, you offered him a meek smile. “I’m sorry, Lix— it’s just… you know how much I hate Hyunjin and I—” 

 Felix rolled his eyes at you, completely fed up with your bullshit at that moment. “Yes, yes, I know. You’ve told me about a million times at this point. But like… don’t let it get to you, yeah? Just go out there and do your very best,” his eyes flitted back to the TV as he un-muted his show. “I mean… how bad could working with Hwang Hyunjin really be? Besides you, he’s one of the top students in the entire school.” 

 But he didn’t know Hyunjin like you did. 

 No one did. 

 They didn’t see the cruel side to him, the mean side. 

 They didn’t hear the words he’d mumble to you with venom after a big test or the taunting he’d throw your way if you one-upped him in some way. 

 Others didn’t see the dark looks he’d give you after classes or the way he’d practically talk behind your back each time you passed him in the hallway — whispering to his groupies and making all the guys chuckle heartily. 

 So yeah, working with him was a pretty fucking big deal. 

 Nonetheless, you took Felix’s advice and tried to relax as much as you could before the start of the new week. You studied the material that you wanted to research for the project, deciding to focus on Hamlet’s Ophelia for your analysis. 

 And if Hyunjin didn’t want to go with that character, well… too bad.

 By the time Monday night rolled around, you felt more prepared than ever before and stepped into the Library’s main doors with settled ease. The university’s library was your favorite place on campus and had been the location for many of your long night study sessions over your time in school. With its dark gothic architecture outside and its sweeping gables, it was a true sight to behold. Not to mention the cozy atmosphere of the interior — all of the cozy nooks and crannies of the place, filled with warm candlelight and large chandeliers and settees made everything feel so mysterious and relaxing. 

 You strode through the isles filled with books, noticing how it was almost empty of any other student. That’s why you liked coming to the place late at night because it was relatively devoid of life and incredibly quiet. And you liked the quiet — it made it easy for you to focus on your studies. Finally, you stumbled upon a spacious table tucked into the very corner of one part of the place on the upper floor, with a large bay window just in front of the wooden table. 

 With a glance outside the pane, you noticed how the darkening sky had opened up to reveal a sheet of heavy rain — it pelted down on the few students that were passing by the outside of the library on the sidewalk there, as they ran for cover. Methodically, you brought out your supplies — booting up your laptop and positioning your notebook and pens just so. 

 Checking your phone, the screen flashed that it was fifteen minutes past ten o’clock already. Was he not even planning on showing up? Was he going to completely bail on you and instead take you down by sabotaging the entire thing? 

As you sat down in one of the cushiony, velvet-lined chairs, your mind began to race with all of the possibilities of what Hyunjin might be stewing up to take you down. 

 Then, almost like your thoughts had summoned him, you heard footsteps at your back and turned to see Hyunjin rounding the corner of the tall bookshelves that were lined on either side of your chosen table. With one glance at him, you noticed the soaked-through fabric of his tan coat and the way his dark hair curled around the nape of his neck with moisture. He must’ve gotten caught in the rain and that’s why he was late. 

 “I thought you were going to bail on me entirely.” 

 Giving you a swarthy look, he plopped down into the seat just across from you and threw his heavy book bag atop the table. “Good evening to you as well.” He grumbled, slipping off his coat and showcasing the wetness hidden just underneath there. His light, cream-colored button-down was almost sheer from the rainwater… highlighting his muscular shoulder blades and the tips of his pecks. 

 “Didn’t you know it was supposed to rain heavily tonight?” 

 Not even paying you another glance, he focused on pulling out his supplies. “I’m not the fucking weatherman, I don’t regularly check up on shit like that.” 

 “Well, you should— maybe you wouldn’t ruin so many of your precious, rich boy clothes if you did.” 

 At that, his hands stopped moving and he stared up at you with slitted eyes. Giving your own choice of outfit a long once over, the corner of his mouth ticked up. “Well damn— are you jealous or something?” You weren’t particularly dressed up, opting for a comfortable pair of black sweatpants and a warm violet turtleneck top.

 “Let’s just focus on getting to work.” You shot back, hands typing away at your computer keyboard. “Did you figure out a piece you want to analyze?” 

 “Yeah, Hamlet’s Ophelia.” 

 His words were silky and smooth against your ears, but his answer is what got you shooting your gaze up to his again. Mouth dropping open a little bit in surprise, you cleared your throat from the sudden quietness between you. “Oh— uhm, I was thinking the same,” you began, opening up the Word document that you had already started working on that past weekend. “It would probably be a good idea to study Hamlet’s character too since he's the catalyst of her problems.” 

 “No, he isn’t. She already had them to begin with — he just heightened their outcome.” 

 You were so taken aback by his comment, that it took a few seconds for your brain to process everything. But when it finally clicked, you were gaping up at him in astonishment. “I’m sorry, what? You’re going to blame her for the fact that Hamlet was the sole cause of it all?” Your voice was steadily rising, as you began to get irritated by his suggestion. 

 Hyunjin shrugged nonchalantly, as he scribbled down a few things in his notebook. “I mean, yeah. She already had a history of mental disorders, her death was bound to happen anyway.” He matched your tone, words growing louder and ringing out across the small expanse of the library that the two of you were in. 

 “I seriously cannot believe you right now.” You began, shaking your head in anger as you tried to focus on your bright computer screen again. But his argument just rubbed you the wrong way entirely, and you found yourself speaking up again. “I didn’t realize how much of a fucking misogynist you were. But oh, wait— it’s perfectly clear now if the way you treat me is anything to go off of.”

 “I’m not a misogynist, Y/N.” The way his tone curled around the sound of your name did something funny to the depths of your soul. He had never called your name outright like that, never addressed you head-on. And it was both weird and oddly satisfying. “All I’m saying is that her descent into madness was pretty warranted since she was in an already heightened state of emotions.” 

 You gave him a deep glare, tilting your head to the side in annoyance. “Just say you hate women, it’s okay, Hyunjin. I won’t bug you about it.” 

 “Like hell, you won’t.” He mumbled under his breath, long fingers typing out something on his computer. 

 And that was enough to completely set you off. 

 There were no other students around, no professors to tell you off, and no Deans to harp on you about correct student conduct. 

 “Seriously, what the hell is your problem?! You’re so fucking annoying and a total piece of shit. I honestly have no idea how you’re at the top of the school when all you do is belittle others!” This time, you were shouting outright. Throwing him an ominous glare and shutting your computer with a resounding thud. 

 Hyunjin leaned back in his seat, lengthy arms folded across his chest as the rain pelted against the misty window just at his back. “Oh, and like you’re any better? You always love to shove your accomplishments in everyone else’s faces— you ever stop to think how that makes others feel?” He was yelling now too, stroking a hand through his long locks that were steadily dripping with tiny droplets of rainwater. 

 Shaking your head in disappointment, you took in a resounding deep breath. “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew you’d be an asshole the entire time and I knew we wouldn’t get any work done,” as you said the words, you were already gathering up your things, shoving them into your bag, and leveling him with a cold stare. “So let’s just forget it - this - okay? Just… work on it by yourself and then we can compile our info together the day of and—” 

 “Sit down, Y/N.” 

 The way his command slipped out from between his lips in a low, gravelly voice shook something loose deep within your very being. For a moment, you almost felt compelled to listen to him. Like under a mystical enchantment, your limbs wanted to move on their own accord and seat yourself down again. But the rational part of your brain overtook all other thoughts as you stood your ground and hovered just next to the table. 

 “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not your daddy— you don’t have the authority of the Dean.” 

 For the last few moments, he hadn’t been looking at you, eyes instead trained on his computer still. Almost like, the entire ordeal didn’t bother him that much. Like you were a minor inconvenience to him in the grand scheme of his rich, privileged life. 

 But all at once, he was tipping his head towards the high rafters of the library’s ceiling, stare catching with yours. The stormy look you saw there, dancing around in his brown irises, forced your heart to leap in the pit of your throat. 

 “Don’t make me say it again.” 

 “I’m never going to listen to you, so tough luck, fucker.”

 Taking in a deep breath, his entire body shuddering with the motion, he held your gaze and motioned with a tilt of his head to the seat in front of him that you had just gotten up from. “Sit. Down.” 

 And like a single crack suddenly appearing in a delicate vase, your mind was losing all conscious thought and you were moving without any other thought. His seething, low tone overtook your entire system, his focus on you sending a shock of shivers up the length of your spine again and again, unrelenting. 

 “What?” You asked, noticing the surprised expression on his face from the way that you had fucking listened to him once, seated in your chair again. “I was tired of hearing your stupid demands.” 

 Hyunjin flipped through a few pieces of paper in his notebook before he pushed it your way. “Give that a look over, it’s the notes I took on Ophelia over the weekend.” The idea of him studying for the project just like you had done forced your mind to run rampant with all kinds of thoughts. Like, was he also stressing out about the meeting like you had been doing?

 “I already told you— we’re not working together.” 

 “For Christ’s sake, just give it up!” Hyunjin exclaimed in a loud voice, throwing his hands up into the air in mock defeat. “You act like this is the deciding project of our grade— it’s a fucking weekly assignment. All we have to do is our best, which will be pretty damn good if we’re both working on it.” 

 “So then you admit that I’m a good student.” You raised an eyebrow his way, fingers slowly taking ahold of his notebook and playing with the edges of the paper.

 Taking in a deep sigh, he pointed at the notebook in front of you. “Just focus— okay? I want to get as much work done as possible tonight.” 

 “Fine, but don’t blame me if we get a bad grade because we rush it.” You said, finally raising the white flag of surrender and taking in the contents of his notebook. The notes were detailed and insanely good, highlighting certain formal aspects of Ophelia’s character and the overarching themes of her madness. “Wow— this is… really good.” You said in a quiet voice, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear it. 

 Rummaging through your nearby bag, you pulled out a pink highlighter to take some notes, and your chosen lollipop for the night, mango flavored. You liked to reward yourself with a fun treat of candy whenever you did late-night studying sessions since the sugar kept your energy levels high and helped to keep you focused. Ever since you were a little girl, you seemed to concentrate better when your mind wasn’t entirely on the content you were studying. 

 “I mean, I’m not coined as one of the school’s top students for nothing,” Hyunjin remarked in a sarcastic tone. You chose to ignore his comment and instead focus on his neat handwriting and the way his words fit in perfectly to the columns of the notebook paper. 

 Everything about him was perfect — from his looks to his academic success to his damn handwriting. Hell, what wasn’t he good at? 

 For one thing, being a nice fucking person. 

 And he seemingly couldn’t grasp the idea of how not to be an asshole to people he didn’t like.

 Unfortunately, you were categorized in his list of people that he hated. 

 As you flipped to the next page in his notebook, your tongue swirled around the lollipop in your mouth. The sugary sweetness of the artificial mango flavor coated your tongue deliciously, and it awakened all of your senses in the best way possible. The minutes seemed to tick by, as you began to make notes based on Hyunjin’s research from his notebook, turning away from the paper and typing into the Word document that you had started for the project.

 Faintly, in the back of your mind, you could hear Hyunjin’s soft inhales and exhales, as he focused on his research. All else was quiet in the library, what with it being completely void of life on a Monday at eleven at night. You could distinctly pick out the sounds of rainfall pitter-pattering just outside the large window behind Hyunjin’s seat, as the night drew on in a heavy mist of dew and moisture. 

 “Why do you hate me so much?” 

 Hyunjin’s words were faint and broke you out of your daze of thought. You had been frantically writing down some of your critiques about Ophelia as a character, and your head shot up from your computer to catch a glimpse of him staring back at you. 

 You didn’t know how long he had been like that, sitting back in his chair, long, raven hair a wavy mess around his face and eyes a little bleary from a mixture of sheer exhaustion and that… darkness that you could never quite pinpoint. You had only ever seen him direct such swarthy looks at you, and that fact disheartened you a lot.

 “I think the real question you should be asking is what’s not to hate about you.” You deadpanned, giving him a deep frown as you poked your lollipop into the corner of one of your cheeks, tucking it away for the moment. 

 Folding his arms across his chest in that abrasive way that he always did around you, he tilted his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, spill the tea.” 

 Taking in a deep breath to stave off your rising nerves and irritation with the man before you, you carded a few fingers through your hair. “To start with, you’re a complete and total asshole.” 

 “I think we’ve already touched on this point by now.” 

 His retort left you to stare daggers into his eyes, wishing someone would just come up behind him and slit his throat because you sure did want to at that moment. But you also supposed that the Dean of the university wouldn’t take a liking to you murdering his son. 

 “Secondly, you’re always stuck up and hard-headed and annoying and… and immature.” 

 Hyunjin blew out a deep, long whisper. “Damn, spare my ego some, will ya?” 

 But you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon. He had started the engine of the train, and now you were rolling down the tracks of sheer rising anger and all of the pent-up rage that you had felt towards him for the past three years. “And you’re right okay? I am fucking jealous. I’m so jealous of you that I can’t breathe sometimes— you haven’t had to work a day in your life for your position, yet I’ve had to scrape by on my hands and knees, clawing— begging at life to grant me just one fucking break.” You weren't even yelling. Instead, the words just come out hushed and all too grave. 

 Like, if anyone else but him heard them, you’d crumble into a pile of ash and disintegrate into thin air, never to be seen again. Because it was fucking embarrassing, to be so affected by him still, even after all of these years. 

 He stayed silent, watching as you flayed your hands around in the air in your exasperation. You were fed up with your life and the hold that he had over it. You were finally at your breaking point and you had had enough. 

 And you think that at that moment, he had also seen and acknowledged that, staying silent to let all of the words spew out of you like an erupting volcano that had been bound to blow from the very start. 

 “But you? You get everything handed to you on a pretty, silver platter because your daddy is wealthy and you're drop-dead gorgeous and practically have the brain of a neuroscientist. Meanwhile, I was raised by a poor single mother in the slums of Seoul and the only way I got into this university in the first place is because I busted my ass throughout middle and high school to earn the top student’s place,” you pointed a finger between the two of you. Almost like, the tip of it was sharp enough, you could cut right through him. Blade tearing through sinew and flesh and bones. “And then you dare to come around these parts, acting like you own everything, trying to put me in my place. When in reality, you’re the one that needs to be put in your place. Someone needs to knock you down a few pegs, and I’ve always thought… why not me?” 

 For a moment, nothing else happens after that. 

 And irrationally, you’re suddenly afraid of him. 

 Of what he might do — what he might say and to whom — with this newfound information about you. 

 Hardly anyone at school knew about your personal life and struggles. You tended to stay to yourself and instead focus on your studies instead of going out to late-night parties or hitting up the local clubs. And you were an extremely private person, to begin with. You saw no point in pouring out your life's sob story to people you would never see again after four years. 

 But all at once, you wondered if Hwang Hyunjin was a dangerous man. 

 If he was someone who would use your personal information against you. 

 And if the last three years were anything to go off of, you wouldn’t put it past him. 

 “Fuck— I shouldn’t have said all of that,” you grumbled, jamming your fingers into your eye sockets and scrubbing at your lids. “Just… forget all of this, yeah? Forget I said anything.” Then you were standing up from your seat for the second time that night, heart leaping in the pit of your chest as you once again gathered your things into your bag. “It’s late anyways. I should head home and keep studying for my other classes. We can meet up some other time for this, it’s not due til, what… Sunday? That gives us plenty of—”

 “Y/N.” Just like before, the sound of your name on his tongue caused you to pause entirely, limbs halting their movement of shoving your computer into your bag. “Just— shut up, yeah?” His voice came out softer than you expected it would, forcing a shiver down the length of your spine. 

 “Don’t call me that.” 

 “Don’t call you what?” 

 “Y/N.” 

 “Why, because it makes you feel things?” He asked in a gravelly voice. You were avoiding even looking at him at that moment, hands a little shaky as you anxiously started to suck on your lollipop again, rolling it around in the corner of your cheek. “What are you so afraid of?” 

 “You, okay?! It’s always been you!” Your outburst was a lot louder than you expected it to be, ringing across the space between you and echoing in the far distance of the library’s upper-level floor. 

 A beat of silence lapsed between the two of you, and you trained your gaze on a corner of the room, studying the small dust bunny that stood there, completely still and lifeless. In that moment, you could relate to it quite a bit. Lost and confused. Wanting to move away, but not being able to for some weird reason. 

 Hyunjin’s old wooden settee creaked in the silence, as he shifted in his position. “To be honest, I’m scared of you too.” And just like that, your head was snapping his way and your eyes were widening in surprise. “For one, I’m scared of that stupid thing.” With his dark eyes, he motioned towards your mouth. To the lollipop that you were dutifully sucking on, in and out, in and out. You stopped altogether when you realized why he had been so quiet during your studying session. He hadn’t been studying — he had been focusing on you, on the candy in your mouth. Feeling self-conscious about it, you took it out of your mouth and laid it down on the table. “And I’m scared of how you make me feel— crazed out of my mind, all of the time. Like a sick fucking plague, you inhabit my everything… from the moment I wake to the moment I ease, you’re all I can think about, all I can dream about. And I hate it so fucking much that it kills me a little bit more every single day.” 

 “Hyunjin, I—”

 His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his skull, head tipping back in delight as his lips parted just slightly. “Yes— fuck, say it again.” 

 “Say… what?” 

 “You know.” 

 Heart leaping wildly in your throat, and broken butterflies waning in the depths of your stomach, your mouth was moving on its own accord. “Hyunjin.” 

 Like a trigger being pulled back from a gun and flitting the weapon into action, the bullet was shot across the distance between the two of you. And the bullet was your words — you calling out his name. 

 In an instant, he was a flurry of motion before you. All designer clothes soaked from rainwater and long, wavy hair that still had droplets of water at the tips. He was a flash of milky skin hidden underneath a sheer, wet button-down. The faint, waning moonlight shining through the window pane cast an ominous, angelic-like halo around his tall, built frame. 

 And by the time you could breathe again, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Pinned up against the nearest tall bookshelf that reached up into the height of the library's ceiling. One strong hand pinning your two hands against the wood above your head, while the other was positioned just unearth your chin, holding your jaw bone and stroking the flesh there with a gentle thumb. 

 “Now tell me you feel nothing at all, tell me you fucking hate me with your entire being, that you’ll always hate me, and that you think I’m a deprived cunt who needs to be murdered ruthlessly in front of everyone I love.” His words were hushed, their meaning brutal. His face was so close to yours, that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. Leaning into you, he drove his middle a little closer to the part of your legs. 

 Breath catching painfully between your windpipes and the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with blurry vision. Your attention was growing fuzzy at the edges, as you could do nothing more but hone in on… him. Subconsciously, you could feel the mango sweetness of your lollipop coating your tongue again and again as you swallowed. 

 “I—I hate you so fucking much, Hwang Hyunjin.” 

 He pressed into you a little further, breathing in your scent and closing his eyes as his head tipped close to one part of your neck. Mouth hovering over the shell of your ear, he whispered, “Say it again, sweetheart, with a little more passion this time.” 

 “I… I hate you so much, I can’t function with the thought of you existing in the same lifetime as me.” 

 You felt him moving against you then, hand moving away from your jaw and coming around one of your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your black sweatpants. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, sweetheart…” He started, mouth hovering over that space just behind your ear, warm breath fanning against your exposed gooseflesh there. “I won’t hurt you— it was never my intention in the first place. It was… just a fun game to me, to toy around with you. But I never wanted to actually fucking hurt you.” 

 You could feel your mind and heart racing in tandem, going a mile a minute, as you took in all of his words. Because what, the actual fuck? What was he saying? And why was he saying it? And why did you feel yourself crumbling from it all, your resolve breaking down into dust and getting whisked away to the future of Neverland? 

 “I never meant to make you cry,” He said slowly, pulling away from your face just a tiny bit to gauge your reaction to his confession. You gaped up at him, completely speechless in your unadulterated wonder. “Sure, I wanted to make you cry— but not in the cruel kind of way… not in the way that most people would like to do.”

 His insinuation, his innuendo there, jumbled something around deep inside of your spirit. And you could practically feel your knees buckling underneath you from the reality of it all. From the fact that he was never truly set out to cause you permanent damage. And so far, he hadn’t. All he had done was make an ass out of himself and be a continual thorn in your side. But he wasn’t necessarily entirely cruel, and you never truly suspected that he’d do something catastrophically damaging. 

 “But all you have to do is tell me— tell me you never thought about me or dreamed about me or wondered about me, and I’ll be gone forever. You’ll never hear, or see me again. It’ll be like I never existed in the first place and I—”

 “I can’t fathom a life without you in it,” you suddenly blurted out, already feeling the hint of crimson blooming beneath your cheeks and at the tip of your nose. You peered up at him, staring into those depthless, chocolate-brown eyes, reading the dancing emotions there. “Sure, I might despise your guts at times, but… I also think you’re a pretty amazing guy. And… I have to admit that sometimes, I do think about you when I’m alone, at night, and laying in my bed.” 

 His hand clutched a little tighter at your hip then, his fingers intertwining with yours and continuing to hoist your arms up and above your head. “Oh yeah? What do you imagine when you think about me so late into the night?” He rasped out, the sound of his voice grating against your ears and sending flames to burst across the entirety of your veins. 

 “Your face, mostly— how your lips would feel and how you’d taste and what you’d sound like if—”

 After that, you didn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence. 

 He was honing in on you like a vulture to its prey, moving with such swiftness — like a phantom in the night, like a monster hidden underneath the bed, like a selkie in the depths of the ocean. 

 As it turns you, your dreams about him were accurate. 

 Because his plush lips did feel like pure heaven. 

 They pushed against yours, his mouth fitting atop yours like something that was carved into the universe — something that was almost meant to be. He was devouring you whole — heart and mind and soul and body. 

 And with each press of his silky lips, you fell down the hole of darkness and heat just a little bit more. Then the tip of his tongue was poking out and tracing the line of your mouth and you fell into him, fingers clawing at his that still had your arms held up high above your head, desperately searching for purchase as your legs threatened to give out underneath you. 

 When his tongue plowed into the small part between your lips, you let out a breathless moan. The kind that had been hidden deep, buried, and un-satiated for so fucking long. By the time he was tasting you, his hands had released your arms and you were scrambling for something to hold. Desperately, in your haste of arousal and temptation, you were clutching at the cool, wet fabric of his cream-colored button-down, holding on for dear life as his hands tightened around your waist and hoisted you up against the bookshelf further. 

 Your spine crammed into the wooden shelves there, as you wrapped your legs around his torso, yanking him closer with each passioned kiss that he gave you. Again and again, he drew those same, sinful sounds out of you. Just like all of the times before, he was playing a sick kind of game with you. But this time, it wasn’t all that bad. This time, you were quite enjoying yourself. 

 As your parted legs held his hips close to your frame, you could feel the hardness there, in the center of him. Just aching to be released. And suddenly, you came to terms with the fact that the wetness between your legs was rapidly growing with each kiss that he gave you. 

 He sucked on your lips like they were his lifeline — and you wondered, in that moment, how he’d treat the rest of you — how much attention he’d offer the rest of your body. 

 “J-Jin, I—” The shortened nickname slipped out between your lips when the two of you parted to catch your breaths. And when you noticed his swollen mouth, you were almost positive that yours looked just as bad, if not worse. 

 “What, baby doll?” He hummed, mouth moving away from yours entirely and coming close to the line of your jaw. You blushed wildly at the pet name, liking the way it sounded in his silky voice. He moved aside the thick fabric of your violet-colored knit turtleneck with his nose, lips attaching to the skin of your neck and suckling like a vampire drunken on the crimson of his lover. “What is it that you need right now?” 

 Your hands were scrambling for him, finding purchase in his dark roots and pulling just a tad bit there. The abuse to his scalp made him hiss out, warm breath painting across the heated flesh of the column of your neck brilliantly. “N—Need you t—to—” But your words were cut short by the way one of his hands was moving away from your waist, traveling under the hemline of your sweater, a long, nimble finger dancing across your belly button and rising to the center of your stomach. 

 “You need me, hmm?” He mused lowly, mouth having journeyed down to the skin closest to your clavicle, leaving violet-hued marks that would surely survive into the next few days. “Need me to fuck you, right? Need me to take you so irrevocably well right here and right now… can’t wait any longer, yeah?” As he spoke the words into existence, his naughty hand was already finding its way toward the lace of your bralette, skirting across its edges. Then, a single finger dipped underneath the elastic there, skirting up the length of your breast until it was resting against your pebbled nub. “Such a naughty little thing… who knew that the university’s prodigy just needed a good fucking, huh? That all she wanted was to get fucked open against the library bookshelves.” 

 You were gasping out in pure bliss, fingers digging in a little harder into his long wisps of hair as his hands began to explore your chest. Brushing, twisting, pulling. Then doing it all over again with the other mound. “Y—Yeah,” you managed to spit out, trembling underneath him, legs wounding tighter around his waist, bringing him ever closer. “Can you do that… fuck me? I need it so bad right now, I can’t handle it if you just leave me like this…” You were practically begging out the words, so desperate in your pleas that you were almost certain your groveling was boosting his already inflated ego. 

 “I only fuck good girls. Girls who don’t call me an asshole and don’t say they hate me.” 

 At that, your eyes were tearing open in a mix of surprise and despair. But the way that his hand didn’t stop touching your breasts, still playing with them, told you everything you needed to know at that moment. 

 You wiggled your hips slowly, grinding into the hardness between his dark-washed jeans. “Stop touching me then— stop kissing me and stop looking at me,” you began, taunting him with your movements and the way that you spoke in a velvety tone, all soft and delicate and innocent. When what the two of you were doing was anything but innocent. “But you can’t, right? Can’t get the thought of me out of your head— of what this pussy would feel like clenched around your cock, squeezing you for dear life as you fuck into me for the hundredth time in a single day—” 

 He was cutting off your words with his quick hands, shedding off your sweater and bralette in one go. Then he was bending down slowly, hands coming up to cup your chest. He stared up at you from his crouched position, watching the feelings rove across your face as he blew hot hair against one of your nipples. 

 “Just fucking shut up already bitch,” he said in a low grumble, as his hand came over your tit, mouth melding onto the warm skin there effortlessly. His other hand was busy playing with your neglected breast, squeezing there a little bit harder when his teeth grazed one of your nipples, tongue lapping at the bud. “You’re only to speak when spoken to, you understand me?” He asked, pulling away from your breast and making a crude, wet sucking noise as he did so.

 Glaring down at him through lust-filled eyes, you sneered his way. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, asshole.” Hands gripping onto his hair a little bit, you pushed his face closer to your chest as he began to work on your other breast, leaving a ring of wetness as he went. “And don’t call me bitch.”

 You could feel him smirk against your skin, his low chuckle vibrating against your gooseflesh and sending ripples of energy to course through your veins. “Mhm— why not? Your pussy sure seems to love the name.” He mused sadistically, completely unlatching from your breast, hands finding their way back at your hips. 

 “What are you even talk—”

 But he didn’t leave any more room for questions, one hand ripping away from your waist and covering your covered centre. “This, right here,” he said in a low whisper, fingers cupping your warmth there, and you could practically feel the essence dripping out of you, just behind your thin panties and sweatpants. “Bet you’ll get even more soaked when I call you it again.”

 “You know nothing about me.” The words came out garbled and wobbly, as he maneuvered your sweatpants down and off of your legs entirely. “Y—You don’t know my body.” 

 He threw you a sardonic kind of smile, leaning into the side of you, lips caressing the shell of your ear as he spoke in soft tones. “Yeah, but I’ve done a hell of a lot of observing over the years…” At his words, you could feel his hand nearing your middle again, and you involuntarily parted your legs in want. 

 When his fingers came in contact with the lace of your panties, you had to pull out your biggest bout of self-control to hold in the moan that wanted to escape from you. His movements were expert level, as he pushed the fabric off to the side, running a single finger up your lips, feeling for that small spot at the very top. Circling his thumb around there, his other fingers worked at your entrance, and before you knew it, he was pressing two long digits into you. 

 “F—Fuck—“ You groaned at the feeling of it all, falling into him and clawing at his shoulders that were still covered in that damp button-up shirt. “Hyunjin.” You were moaning out his name before you even realized it, hips jutting up slowly against his hand, your head getting thrown back as his fingers searched and found that warm, gooey spot deep inside of you. 

 “See? I know exactly what the fuck I’m doing,” he muttered, lips coming around the side of your neck and suckling violet marks into the skin there. “So be a good bitch and shut up for me, yeah? Take it like a good girl— like the good whore that I know you are.” 

 You couldn’t even protest against him using the name again, because, in all honesty, you did like it. It felt dirty and wrong but so very fucking right at the same time. It caused your walls to spasm against the three fingers he had stuck inside of you, as he pumped in and out with a rabid kind of pace. The sound of his movements forced shivers down the length of your spine, as his thumb pressed into your clit a little more. 

 “Y—You gotta fuck me now, Jin—” You mumbled, already reaching the edge of orgasm from the way that he was steadily working you up with his hand alone. Half of his fingers were buried deep inside of you and the others were desperately clutching at your hip bone to bring you closer to him. The sounds he was pulling from you, both wetness and moans of pleasure, were other-worldly. “N—Need to feel your cock inside of me, right fucking now.” 

 In your daze of lust, you found yourself clasping at the buttons of his shirt, quickly undoing them and sliding his damp shirt off of his frame. What lay underneath was a chiseled chest — a muscular abdomen, biceps that rippled with each breath he took, and a dark trail that led towards his dick. You ran your fingers down the milky expanse of his chest, marveling at how soft and chiseled everything felt. 

 Sighing out quietly, you stared up at him with pleading eyes. “You’re so fucking hot… always knew you would be.” That made Hyunjin smirk with satisfaction, as he tipped into you for a breathless kiss. 

 While his lips captured your own, you could feel his hands working at your panties, sliding them off your legs and leaving you completely bare. Then you heard the clanking noise of a belt coming undone, as he unmistakably rid himself of his pants and boxers. 

 Then he was parting from your mouth, focus turned down to where the centers of your bodies met together. Your mouth fell open at the sight of… him. All seven-and-a-half inches, long shaft curving upward in arousal and precum leaking out of the pretty red tip. A single vein ran down the side, bulging from his unchecked want.

 “Need you to be nice and loud for me, yeah?” He growled in that low tone of his, as he guided himself near your entrance. “Let the entire school know who you belong to— scream my name, bitch, and tell everyone who fucking owns you.” 

 His words jumbled around inside of your mind, making you feel lightheaded as he slowly began to slide into you. You widened your legs a little bit for him, wrapping them around his waist as he quickly bottomed out. The stretch was only slight and left you hissing with relief when he was fit into you at the hilt.

 Without any warning, he was sliding out almost completely, before thrusting back in, hitting into you so roughly, that your spine jammed into the wooden bookshelf at your back. And just like that, he was setting a hellish pace. One that was sure to make you crumble before him — fall apart at the seams. 

 “Mhm— fuck!” You screamed out in a guttural voice, throwing your head back against the bookshelf desperately as his hips snapped against yours feverishly. You were gripping onto his shoulders so hard, running your nails down his back, that you were sure you’d leave red marks later. “Holy shit- feels so good!”

 One of Hyunjin’s hands traveled away from your waist, long, nimble fingers digging into your scalp, yanking at the hair there. “Louder, bitch— take it all like the filthy slut that you are.” He shouted, voice coming out raspy as he pounded into you roughly. 

 In the very back of your mind, you distinctly heard the pitter-patter of rainfall against the nearby windowpane mixing in with the sounds of the two of you  — skin slapping against skin and wetness squelching. It was straight out of a porno and made your head swim with so many dirty thoughts. Breath catching in the center of your throat, you found your lips opening up and releasing a blood-curdling cry of pleasure. 

 Your noises of ecstasy seemed to compel Hyunjin forward with drive, as he rutted into you in a manic kind of way, thumb tracing figure-eight symbols into your inflamed clit. Almost like, if he didn’t get it out of his system, he’d never be able to live afterward — wouldn’t be able to breathe or think or speak. The tip of him hit up into that warm spot inside of you, and you clenched a little harder around this throbbing cock every time he teased you right there. 

 “Fuck— I can’t… I’m gonna…” You groaned out loudly. Your eyes flittered into the back of your skull from the way that he pulled at your hair at the same time that he fucked up into you. 

 Hyunjin grunted out lowly, hips snapping against yours with each thrust. “J—Just a little farther, doll face…” From the way that his domineering tone was slipping away, you could tell that he was also creeping near the edge of release. 

 You could feel the slip and slide between your legs, your essence coating every surface of your inner thighs and making everything feel silky and smooth. The intensity of his movements slowed down somewhat, the frenzy of his rocking leveling out as he chased your guys’ highs. 

 “Yes… right there!” You mewled out breathlessly just as the tip of him hit so far into you, that entire galaxies were cast against the expanse of your closed eyes. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire — the flush creeping down the column of your purple-marked neck and into the depths of your soul as he continued to circle your bundle of nerves. 

 Walls clenching around his cock that was buried deep inside of your warmth, you could feel the moment Hyunjin found that blissful space of his release. “I’m gonna come— fuck—” He rasped out, his voice on the quiet side as he lost all semblance of control. 

Hips stuttering against yours, he made to pull out of you completely. But you found yourself shaking your head, eyes shooting open, and giving him a serious frown. “N—No… want you to… come inside…” Your head was empty of all thoughts, as you could do nothing more but focus on the way that he felt so close to you - so far deep inside. 

 At that, Hyunjin was offering you a tiny, satisfied grin. Then he was seizing up inside of you, cock stretching against your walls as he met his high. It overtook his entire system, overruling all other obstacles and forcing his head backward in pure, orgasmic bliss. The prettiest sounds fell from his plump, crimson, kiss-swollen lips, as he let himself slip down the cliff with ease. 

 The feeling of his release painting your walls in warm whiteness caused your entire body to convulse with pleasure, as you finally found your high. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before… perfect and whole and so fucking hot. Bursts of rose and topaz and turquoise splashed across the inner workings of your mind, as your insides fluttered around Hyunjin’s cock that fit perfectly between your legs. 

 “Holy shit, that was…” You said breathlessly after you had begun to come down from your high. Cracking your eyes open you noticed the darkness still there in Hyunjin’s gaze, and the way that his eyes slit shut with want. The sound of the rain outside lulled your mind into a perfect state of peaceful limbo. “What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow his way in question. “What is it?” 

 He shrugged slowly, eyes coming away from your connected middles and locking with yours. “Nothing, just… I can’t fucking believe you just let me cum inside of you— with no protection.” 

 You could feel his cock softening inside of you, and finally, your legs stopped shaking around his waist. “Why? You don’t like the idea of that?” Beginning to pull away from him, you tried to yank as far away from his cock as you could. “If you didn’t like it, you should’ve—”

 Hyunjin’s mouth was coming onto you in the next beat, capturing your lips up into a heated kiss, stealing the labored breath right from your lungs and sucking on your puffy bottom lip. “Just shut the fuck up, alright. I fucking loved it… it was so hot— you’re so hot. Makes me wanna come in you every single day.” You could feel him move between your legs then, as he began to fuck his seed back into your aching walls. In the back of your mind, you could feel his hand lazily working at you, pushing a single digit back into your entrance between his cock, thrusting in the cum that was splattered across your thighs.  

 Groaning out softly at his words, you placed your hands on his bare chest and pushed a little bit so that you could get a look at his face again. It was filled with so much lust and want and adoration, the sight of it all almost overwhelmed you entirely. “Well, I suppose I could allow that…” Your voice trailed off, as you dragged a single finger up the center of his chest and towards the sharp line of his jaw. “If it’s with you— then yeah, you can fuck me raw every day.” 

 Hyunjin let out a low noise, which sounded like a mix between a moan and a cry for help. “But we can’t, baby doll— it wouldn’t be smart and I’d never want to put you in any kind of uncomfortable position.” 

 You found yourself shrugging off his concerns nonchalantly, as you drove your hips a little forward, meeting his shallow strokes. You loved the feeling there, of wetness and silky essence. “Yeah, but… the good thing is, at least we’d know who the father is.” 

 At that, he was flashing you a wicked smirk, pearly white glinting against puffy, red lips. His tiny smile was the last thing you saw before he was tipping into you and fitting his mouth around yours again. “Oh, you devilish little minx… I think I’ll keep you for a very long time.” 

 In the back of your mind, you could feel him moving against you, cock already stiffening again just from your words and insinuations alone. But at that moment, you weren’t too worried about what he planned to do with you for the rest of the night. Because right then, all you wanted to focus on was his face, and the way he let you ring your arms around his neck, pulling at the hair at his nape as he pressed kiss after impassioned kiss to your mouth. 

 It turns out that your roommate Felix had been right after all. In the end, working with Hwang Hyunjin hadn’t been that horrible. 

 It had been quite… nice. 

 Despite all of the bickering and shouting. 

 After a while, the rough bumps and edges of your rocky relationship seemed to mellow out between the tall bookshelves of the library. And before you knew it- he had you completely bending at his will — practically groveling at his feet for his love, attention, and care. 

 In the end, you supposed that that’s what you had always wanted from each other, and that’s why you had been so horrible to one another. If you couldn’t garner each other’s attention with regular conversations and friendship, the next best thing was to be rivals in your academics and throw insults at every opportunity you were offered. 

 But the thing about trying to hate Hwang Hyunjin — trying to hate such a smart, caring, passionate man — is that eventually, one’s willpower always breaks down, and they’re left in a pile of mess and limbs as they search out his affection. 

Fin.

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[callsign-rogueone]

falling, floating, flying - d.a.

Dain Aetos x marked!reader (Love!) words: 2.2k 🏷: here is the official start of Dain and Love's story!! no book spoilers yet (this occurs pre-Fourth Wing! reader and Dain's first year.) no pronouns used in this chapter but future ones will be she/her afab reader. mentions of fear of heights, falling from heights and jumping from heights, Dain being Dain and flipping out on reader (for a good reason lowkey). yes, I am legally required to traumatize everyone when they get their signet. copy-pasted physics jargon from wikipedia. this series is going to be my attempt at a slowburn... we'll see how that goes. as usual, 5 points extra credit if you can spot another girlfriend in here! chapter two is ready, and slated for Fri/Sat. maybe earlier. I'm not good at resisting peer pressure 🤭

This flight training would be a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t positioned next to Amber Mavis the entire time. Her orange daggertail is just as irritating as she is, and equally self-centered; Claidh keeps forcing anyone and everyone out of his way, regardless of where they’re supposed to be in the formation, and Cosa isn’t having it. You aren’t, either — neither of you will be bullied, especially not by someone in your own wing.

Claidh flicks his tail out completely unnecessarily, and Cosa has to swerve to avoid being hit with it. The sudden movement has you tilting in your seat, and she tries to correct for it by turning in the opposite direction, but it doesn’t work. 

You scramble to hold on to her, but your nails don’t make a dent in her scales — you slide right off of her back. You shriek, the sound swallowed up by the air as you drop straight down like a rock, cold wind whipping your hair out of its braids and into your eyes, stinging your cheeks. 

“Reach out!” Cosa shouts, diving down to try to catch you. “Reach for the bond!”

You shut your eyes tightly, grabbing onto the little red string connecting you to Cosa and pulling as hard as you can. A feeling you’ve never felt before spreads through your body like wildfire, a rushing wave of pure power.

For a split second the world around you stills completely; like that feeling you get when you’re about to fall asleep, and you feel like you’re going to plummet through the mattress, only to jolt back awake — but you’re not in your bed, you’re suspended in midair, still a hundred feet above the ground. And then you’re falling again, but not as fast — you’re… floating? You drift through the air like an autumn leaf, landing in a heap on the forest floor.

You groan, rolling onto your back and looking up through the treetops at the blue sky above you. You’re exhausted and a little sore, though nothing feels broken, and you clearly aren’t dead. Count your blessings, or whatever — but what the fuck just happened?

Cosa must realize you’re still alive, because her panic decreases substantially, leaving you with your own emotions, none of which you can name. You feel like you’ve just taken a dip in the Arctile ocean, frozen and numb, your brain wanting to shut down.

“Callwell!” someone shouts through the trees.

“Over here,” you manage, the words coming out hoarse and quiet.

There’s a rustle of branches and the sound of hurried footsteps before you see Dain jogging toward you. He breathes a sigh of relief seeing you in one piece, sitting upright.

He kneels down beside you, examining you for injury, but not finding anything glaringly wrong. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… I wasn’t hurt,” you answer distantly, still looking out into the forest.

“But are you okay?” he asks, more gently. It’s clear that you’re still rattled — you’re trembling, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, that usual happy, joking personality nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s not stupid.”

You finally start to cry, swiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, but the cold leather doesn’t absorb anything, it just pushes the salty tears around your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you rasp, suddenly embarrassed, worried he’ll think you’re weak for sitting here sniffling like a child that skinned their knee. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says softly. “That was terrifying.”

It takes a moment for you to focus your vision enough to look at him. You can’t tell what has you more stunned— those pretty brown eyes gazing down at you with such softness, or the fact that he’s treating you so carefully, that he’s put aside the rivalry and bickering to make sure you’re okay. 

You clear your throat delicately, standing. “We should get back up there. They’re probably wondering where we are.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he nods, rising to his feet and motioning for you to follow him back from whence he came. The walk out of the forest is quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps on the layers of fallen pine needles and twigs snapping under your boots.

“Thank you, Dain,” you say softly, once your tears have dried.

He blinks for a moment, realizing this is the first time he’s heard you use his given name— not Aetos, but Dain. He likes hearing it from you more than he should.

“Of course,” he replies, holding back a tree branch so you can squeeze through the narrow path by his side. “That’s what squadmates are for.”

The comment makes your heart sink — he’s not here because he’s truly your friend, or because he genuinely cares if you were injured or dead, but out of obligation to that damned codex, and the goal of winning Squad Battle this year to impress dear old dad. But then again, he’d definitely broken at least two rules by leaving the formation and coming down here to find you, so maybe he cares more than you think.

You finally make it out of the woods and into a clearing where you see Cosa and Cath sitting side by side, waiting for you. You make a tiny nod of acknowledgment to Cath, a silent gesture of thanks for letting his rider land to come find you.

“I apologize, graceful one. You handled that as well as anyone could.”

You give her a half-hearted response, scaling her leg to get back in the saddle. Muscle memory takes over for the rest of the class, with Cosa doing most of the work and keeping her distance from Claidh. You’re just glad to be back on the ground, solid rock beneath your boots. 

Cath lands beside her, Dain climbing down his leg easily and taking a step toward you, but someone else gets there first; Bodhi.

He nearly crushes you in a hug. “We all thought you were dead,” he breathes, holding you tightly. “That must have been a thousand feet… how did you survive that?”

You manage a smile, hugging him back. “I’m very much alive,” you promise. “I think my signet came in at the exact right time — it did something to cushion my fall.”

A few more of your friends have realized you’d made it through, running over to check on you and pull you into warm embraces, grateful you’re okay.

“That must have been terrifying,” your friend empathizes. 

“Oh, yeah. I was totally freaked, but…” You look over your shoulder, but Dain is already gone.

————————————————————————

“What’s today’s not-required reading?” Bodhi asks as he settles into the seat next to you.

“Advanced Physics of Flight,” you answer, your eyes flicking back and forth over the lines of text. “I borrowed it from Xay, but he needs it back after lunch, so I have to read fast. I’m halfway done, but it’s getting complicated.”

“You’re going to read that entire thing by noon?” Dain asks, raising an eyebrow. “No way.” 

“Yes way,” Bodhi answers for you. He slides the book away from you, flipping back a good thirty pages and handing it to Dain. “Read the first sentence aloud.”

Dain looks confused, but complies. “Understanding the motion of air around an object (often called a flow field) enables the calculation of forces and moments acting on the object.” 

It takes you a second to jump in, reciting the following sentences. “In many aerodynamics problems, the forces of interest are the fundamental forces of flight: lift, drag, thrust, and weight. Of these, lift and drag are aerodynamic forces, i.e. forces due to air flow over a solid body. Calculation of these quantities is often founded upon the assumption that the flow field behaves as a continuum. Continuum flow fields are characterized by properties such as flow velocity, pressure, density, and temperature, which may be functions of position and time. These properties may be directly or indirectly measured in aerodynamics experiments or calculated starting with the equations for conservation of mass, momentum, and energy in air flows. Density, flow velocity, and an additional property, viscosity, are used to classify flow fields,” you finish. “Can I have that back now?”

He hands it back to you, visibly confused. “How did you…”

“I’ve been able to do this since I was a kid. I’m just reading from the picture of the page in my mind,” you explain, already working on committing the next page to memory. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve learned not to question it,” Bodhi says. “But basically, she doesn’t forget anything, ever.”

“Not true,” you counter. “I can only do it with written words, not anything else. And I have to do it intentionally, or it won’t work.”

“That’s cool, but why are you memorizing a textbook you won’t need until next year?” Sawyer asks.

“I’m trying to figure out how to make Cosa and I more aerodynamic with my wind-wielding, and what all I can do with it, since Carr is absolutely zero help.”

“Understatement of the century,” your friend scoffs. “He hasn’t spoken to me once in the last two weeks. He only cares about the signets he finds interesting, and everyone else can just go fuck off and die, or figure it out on their own.”

The conversation comes to a halt as Professor Devera enters the classroom, beginning her presentation. You close the physics book, taking out a pen and paper for notes — time to see what lies they’ve come up with for you today.

————————————————————————

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cosa asks.

“Yes,” you answer, tightening the strap of your goggles and checking that all of your weapons are secure.

“See you on the ground, then.”

You loosen your grip on her slowly, willing yourself to take deep breaths as you feel the control slipping away, the wind taking over. You’re falling, falling… and then you’re floating again, your body relaxing into the air as it rushes up to meet you, cushioning your fall.

You land gracefully on both feet with a small gust of wind, several beautifully-colored autumn leaves swirling around you. You giggle in delight, stirring them up with your finger and watching them flutter around your feet.

“Perfectly done,” Cosa praises, landing behind you. 

Dain blinks at you, lips parted in shock. “What…”

You give him a bright smile, removing your goggles and letting them hang around your neck. “I’m fine. It doesn’t scare me anymore — I’ve been practicing.”

Something shifts in the air. “Practicing?” he echoes, incredulous. “What did you do, jump off the parapet?”

You don’t deny it. 

His jaw drops. “Are you out of your mind?”

Your smile fades immediately. You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. “How else was I supposed to get over my fear of heights?”

“By doing literally anything else other than jumping off a hundred-foot-tall bridge over a river with giant rocks at the bottom? You could have died!”

“Clearly I didn’t,” you huff, the wind blowing a little stronger now, sending the fallen leaves skittering across the flight field. “I didn’t get a single scratch either time.”

“Either? You did it twice?”

“I had to make sure the first time wasn’t a fluke. I would have done it three times, if there weren’t so many stairs to get up there.”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation — if he doesn’t take a moment to steady himself, he’s going to say something he regrets. 

You continue to defend yourself. “If something like that happens again, I need to be able to handle it. And they aren’t teaching us shit besides keep your seat and don’t fall, so I took matters into my own hands.”

He sighs. You have a point, even if your methods were incredibly dangerous. “I’m glad you conquered your fear. Just please don’t do that again?” he asks quietly. “Not unless you absolutely have to?”

You’re taken aback by the hurt in his voice, the same look in his eyes you’d seen when he’d found you in the forest earlier this week. You’re hit with a wave of guilt as you realize that you’d scared him, that his anger is really just fear — fear of losing you, the closest thing he has to a friend in this school, even if you butt heads sometimes.

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “Not unless I absolutely have to.”

He’ll take that. “Thank you.”

“Are you coming to dinner, or what?” your friend calls across the field, impatient.

“In a second!” you shout back. You look back at Cosa, patting her leg. “See you tomorrow, Co.”

“Until tomorrow,” she replies. “I’m proud of you. Now run along.”

You beam at the praise, thanking her before jogging off toward your friends.

Dain stands there for a moment, watching as the leaves flutter to the ground, laying still. They’d been something beautiful when you’d played with them, laughing as they danced around you on the breeze you’d stirred up, but now they’re just dead leaves, crunching under his boots as he walks across the flight field back toward the school building.

[cardboardboxy]

I think Rick Riordan made the correct decision by not writing Apollos songs

Heres why :)

All of apollos songs are channelling his godly power of something he's cannonically good at, unlike poetry which we only see him do badly both in mortal and godly form. To write a song that is meant to be written to godly levels of perfection is setting yourself up for failure no matter your skill level

The songs apollo sings are all very deeply emotional to him, while emotional song writing for ballads is a thing, to create a song so deeply emotional it is capable of causing tears purely through the lyrics is a difficult feat, especially considering apollo has the power to influence people who hear his songs through his intentions as well

So either Rick would have to become the next Mitski, in a way thats also understandable to majority of readers or the moment would be cheapened due to its lack of emotional provocation in the reader

The fact that Apollos songs have no description besides the fact that he's singing, its on a ukulele and that it's emotional is also very open ended, the reader can interpret what they will about the nature of the song as its practically a blank slate. While this doesn't necessarily provoke the reader emotionally it does mean that readers can have their own interpretation of what godly music would be like

It also leaves room for fan made content, whether of not authors should intentionally do that is probably debated somewhere, but I personally like it because fan content is goated

This concludes my yap session 👍

[animentality]

I just figured out why Isagi's "self destruction" doesn't work for me in terms of narrative or emotional impact.

because Isagi doesn't have enough of a self to DESTROY.

This is why Isagi's blank slate self insert personality doesn't work, especially not in terms of making the story more interesting or emotionally impactful.

Barou. An arrogant guy, who calls himself the king. Expects everyone to feed him passes. Is talented but pigheaded. He's tricked into passing, and has a moment of despair, but then realizes he can both cooperate with a team and still be strong enough to shine the way he wants.

That had emotional impact bc Barou as a character was so strongly set up to be impossible to work with. I didn't like Barou before that but the new Barou had believable development, which was very earned, AND he became a much more likable person after that, because he learned respect.

Bachira. A lonely character who hides his grief behind a mask of cheerfulness, and who desperately wants to be understood by others even as he doesn't even try to act normal. His entire character revolves around an imaginary friend. He gives up on this friend and embraces being alone again... and in doing so, finds that he will never be alone again.

And he lets go of that friend. He goes back to what he was like before even coming to blue lock, shattering all that was broken by years of solitude.

Emotional because Bachira is a very lovable character and it gave him an intense amount of depth. And it was allowing him to move on and grow as a person. Again, because he feels like an actual person.

Then there's Rin. A character who was literally introduced as the younger brother of the famous Sae Itoshi. Whose entire motive is surpassing his brother. During u20, he had this beautiful moment.

We saw how tragic his and his brother's dissolving relationship was. We knew what they were like as kids. And we saw how much Sae hurt him.

Rin coming around and deciding that he wasn't going to be Sae's little brother anymore, or Isagi's rival, or Bachira's friend, or anything except for Rin Itoshi, fully realized human being who doesn't define himself by his relationship to others...

it was impactful because his coldness had just been explained, basically shattered by his backstory reveal. then his entire character motive was smashed to pieces... at least until nel, which ruined it, but we'll talk about that some other time.

That was a big deal, because it's everything we knew about Rin, turned over and abandoned.

Then you compare these three wonderful characters, who all had these big emotional moments that were directly tied to their success on the field...

to Isagi.

Who has no character besides, I must win. I must be better at soccer.

And not only is that not a character trait that can be broken, because of the nature of the story... it's also so boring.

who gives a fuck if he's always rattling about self destruction???

he has no self to destroy.

he is a blank slate, that never even cracks.

as soon as he entered blue lock, he had the right ego.

he hasn't had to learn a new ego at all. all he ever does is learn more bullshit rambling from ego about flow and tactics and luck and shit.

isagi has no character by design, so whenever he insists he has to break himself down... I have to laugh.

you have no foundation, isagi. there's nothing to break.

because you are nothing. this empty audience stand in.

in order to break an audience stand in, you'd have to actually make him suffer too. make him actually lose.

but blue lock can't do that. not anymore, at least.

and that's why it feels so disappointing right now.

the cracks started to appear at the start of nel, and only now have people realized they were always there.