#he really wants to change something for the better

[planet-hwa]

୨୧  imperfections and impurities – 성화

summary     after seeing your mother for lunch one day, you're left with an enhanced view on your body: your "imperfections" — but you're lucky enough to have the most amazing boyfriend who's prepared to do whatever it takes to show you how perfect you truly are.

pairing     seonghwa x reader genre     established relationship, a little angst and a lot fluff + a whole lot of loving smut word count     3.5k -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ warnings     MDNI !! petnames/nicknames, body image issues, hurtful comments from family, swearing, protective!seonghwa, extreme body worship, extreme praise kink, nipple/breast play, mirror sex, fingering, dryhumping, overstimulation, squiritng, pussydrunk!seonghwa, cunnilingus, nose riding, unprotected quick-ish sex [wrap it up fr!!], the most gentle aftercare — implied chubbier reader but never specified

❝ i want a better body, i want better skin — you look so pretty, pretty like the wind ❞ 🎧 now playing   black friday ; tom odell

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You gazed into the floor length mirror, the reflection spitting back at you an image you never enjoyed to see — yourself. The mirror began to warp your perception of what was real and what wasn’t, highlighting every flaw and imperfection you thought your body held. Pulling and poking at everything that was cast back at you: thighs, belly, chest, hips, waist and every other aspect of your body. You had insecurities, like everyone does, but you could usually contain them. 

The difference between today and yesterday?

The lunch you had with your mother earlier in the day. The lunch in which she made it her job to ridicule and criticise everything about your appearance.

“Gosh dear, you’re looking a little more plump than usual.”

“That dress is not flattering your body at all.”

“Maybe you should order something small, keep that appetite in check.”

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill, as you reminded yourself of all the cruel comments your mother insisted on sharing.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to order some dinner, do you want your usual?” Your boyfriend entered the room, eyes glued to his phone as he began noting the order. Wiping away any visibility of your gloom, you turned quickly and met Seonghwa’s lifted gaze with the best smile you could.

“I’m not really hungry, but you order something for yourself.” You tried to cover up the quake in your voice, trying not to worry him, but he was too quick to notice it.

“Darling, what’s wrong, has something happened?” He quietly moved towards you, his hands magnetically placing themselves on your hips and pulling you closer. “Talk to me, angel.”

He knew every one of your emotions and how you portrayed them, reading through them like a book. His gaze followed yours, even when you tried to avoid it. He noticed the glassiness of your eyes, and how you tried to hold in your emotions that you never wanted to burden him with. You didn’t look him directly in the eyes, knowing that the moment you looked at his face, you would burst into tears. His hands moved from your hips to your own, holding them so delicately — something that you weren’t. Leading you to the edge of the bed and sitting you down, he sat next to you, eyes still locked on your face and hands softly intertwined with yours. You both sat in silence, you not wanting to talk and him not wanting to push you to it.

“Do you think I’m fat?” Finally breaking the silence and looking up at him, his face instantaneously changing from worry to slight hurt.

“Of course not, darling.” His voice was overlaid with shock and sadness, to hear you even ask him that or believe that he would ever think of you like that was crazy to him. “Where has this come from?”

“My… my mother said that I ‘looked more plump than usual’, so… I wanted to know if you thought the same-”

“Never.” He cut you off quickly. “I would never think of you like that, because it isn’t true. You know your mother has fucked up views on her own weight and she’s only pushing onto you, which is completely wrong. That woman needs serious help.”

The sudden curse and defensiveness came as a shock to you. Seonghwa: who was always quite calm and content around you, rarely swearing and always soft spoken. To hear him become so protective of you made your heart flutter, realising that he truly did love you. His rant continued on his dislike towards your mother, not noticing the stare and small smile that sat on your face.

“And to think that she would say anything about your beautiful body when hers looks like that is absolutely insane-”

“Okay baby, I get it.” You lightly chucked, tracing your thumb over his hand in a soothing motion. His eyes met yours, softening when he saw your smile and the sparkle that returned to your eyes.

“I just need you to know that I love everything about you.”

“I know,” Sending him a warm smile and watching as his eyes outlined your features. “and I love you too.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards into a gentle smile, his hand moving to cup your face before pulling you in. Your lips connected like a puzzle piece, moving perfectly in sync, soft and filled with adoration from the both of you.

“I’m serious, I love everything about you.” Seonghwa disconnected the kiss, his breath lingering on your lips before his kisses began to move around your face.

“I love your smile.” Placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Your hair.” A kiss on your jawline.

“Your neck.” Lips now on your neck.

A light whimper fell through your parted lips, head tilting to the side to give him more access. He suckled on the sensitive skin of your neck ever so lightly, sending sensations through your entire body and straight between your legs. He smiled against your skin at the sounds you made, his fingers lingering on the hem of your skirt and rubbing soft circles on your thigh with his thumb.

“Let me show you just how much I love you.” He whispered in your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck yet sending chills down your spine.

Looking deep into your eyes for any hesitation and receiving none, with a small nod he stood you up and slowly slipped you out of your dress, revealing your true form that was treasured is a lavender lace set. His gaze moved up and down your body, completely in awe and hypnotised by the sight. You could see how much he enjoyed the view yet you still felt insecure, moving your hands across and attempting to cover your stomach.

“No darling, don’t do that.” Seonghwa whispered, tugging your hands away and replacing them with the touch of his.

Soft fingertips traced every curve in your body, his eyes watching their every move as he admired the beauty that stood in front of him. He could feel the slight tension you held, lifting a hand to your chin and connecting your lips in a dance. With one hand gently cupping your face, the other snaked its way around your waist to pull you closer to him, bodies practically merging into one.

The kiss grew passionate quickly, Seonghwa’s tongue tracing over your bottom lip and requesting access which was happily granted. Your tongues moved together intricately, neither of you fighting for dominance but embracing the intimating of it. He began to trail backwards, pulling you along with him until his knees hit the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss to sit down. 

Looking up at you through his long lashes, he hooked his fingers under the band of your panties, holding your eye contact and he pulled them down and let them pool at your ankles. His hand snaked behind you once again, unclasping your bra in one swift motion and throwing it across the room. The way your plump breasts bounced out was always a sight he loved, never to get bored of though that was always a fear of yours. No matter how long the two of you were together, every time he saw you, it was like the first — he fell deeper and deeper in love.

His hand palmed at your breast, cold fingertips tracing over the hardened bud of your nipple before covering it with the warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled over the bud, eliciting a sweet melody of soft moans from you, your hand cupping the back of his head and tangling itself in his long dark hair. Suckling lightly on your nipple, his other hand preoccupied itself by tightening around your waist and pulling you closer, now standing in between his parted knees. Finally letting go with a pop, he stared at the pink tinted skin he caused, a proud smirk curling at his lips before looking up at your lust-filled eyes.

“Turn around and sit on my lap for me, darling.” He requested.

Noticing your hesitance, he twirled you around slowly and pulled you down onto him, an arm wrapping around your waist to not let you leave. It was then that you realised the floor length mirror you were once staring at, forgetting it was placed at such an angle. Your naked reflection stared back at you once more, but all you could pay attention to was the head lent over your shoulder, eyes filled with undeniable lust and obsession.

“Like I said…” Seonghwa purred in your ear, placing elegant kisses on your bare shoulder. “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

Before you could protest, you felt two slender fingers dip into and drag through your folds, the affects his previous praises had on you glistening evidently on his digits. He felt your body shudder against him as he grazed over your clit, a small whimper escaping you. Attempting to avoid eye contact with the reflection, Seonghwa wasn’t impressed and quickly grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze forcefully to watch.

“No darling, I need you to look at yourself.” He began to gently suck on your neck, watching you through hooded eyes. “I need you to see your beauty.”

With a tight grip around your waist, he collected your essence and dragged it through your already soaking folds. His fingertips traced your clit softly, small shapes and circles drawing out quiet moans from your parted lips. He watched you intently, making sure your eyes never left the mirror and gazed at your curiosity growing. Your eyes looked through the mirror at where he held you, observing the way his fingers moved over you so delicately yet with purpose.

“Look at her, a goddess.” Seonghwa praised, making you wetter in an instant. “My goddess.”

Quickening his movements, a pulsing sensation began to grow in between your legs, one he could feel underneath him and it encouraged him. His thumb replaced onto your clit as he pushed two slender fingers inside of your sopping hole, the clench around them immediate and causing him to let out a low groan at the feeling. Arm sliding down from your waist, he applied a small amount of pressure on your lower abdomen, bringing in a new sense of pleasure making you moan out instantly.

A melody of moans and whimpers filtered the room as he slowly pumped his digits in and out of you, thumb caressing your clit elegantly. Your hips began to buck hopelessly against his lap, chasing his movements as your orgasm grew closer — the sudden movement causing Seonghwa’s body to twitch, his hardened length pushing deep into your back. He buried his lips into your neck, placing wet kisses along the bare skin he could reach to contain his moans.

“You’re doing so good, darling.” He could feel your body growing closer, pumping faster and eliciting higher pitched moans from you: his favourite sound to hear.

“Hwa… I-I’m so- ahhh!” The sudden pinch of his thumb pushing into your clit cut you off with a loud whimper, eyes rolling back and closing to embrace the pleasure. Your gummy walls clenched desperately around his speedy fingers, almost tight enough to break. He curled them as they reached that spongy spot that would push you over the edge. The lewd wet sounds of his fingers entering you mixed with your lustful whines, thumb flicking over your clit deliciously.

“Cum for me, darling.” He whispered, nibbling at your earlobe before you let yourself go.

Your high crashed over you in waves as his digits pumped harshly into you, pulling out every bit of your orgasm that he could, your essence glistening along his fingers as his movements slowed. But he didn’t want to stop there, pulling out once you started to come down and replacing them on your clit. Pinching it lightly brought your body back to life before he began to rapidly circle the bundle of nerves.

Your body trembled against him at the overstimulation, your brain growing foggy and unable to comprehend sentences, only responding with audible moans and a mantra of Seonghwa’s name. He watched as the overstimulation hit you with another orgasm, clear liquid gushing out of you and shattering onto the mirror; the most beautiful fountain he had ever looked at. Seonghwa watched as your juices dripped down the mirror, an immense amount of desire flourishing within him and before you could process what had just happened, he lifted you up with ease and placed you in his previous spot, before he was on his knees and wedging himself between your thighs. Attempting to close your legs, he only gripped them tight and spread them wider.

“Please darling,” He murmured against your soft skin, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. “You deserve this more than anything.”

His deep brown eyes were clouded with desire and admiration, desperate to please you in all the ways he could. You couldn’t say no, sending him a small nod as he neared closer to your heated core. Softly kissing over your centre, he watched as you shivered at the smallest of touches before finally wrapping his plump lips around your puffy clit. You tried to subconsciously escape him but the hands on your lower back held you in place tightly, restricting your movements and pulling you closer into his face.

His tongue lapped through your sopping folds, coating it in the remains of your previous high. It swirled over your clit, eliciting new gorgeous sounds from you. Running your fingers through his long locks, the moment he sharply sucked on your bundle of nerves, your grasp on him tightened and pulled desperately at his hair. He growled into your heat at the pull, sending vibrations through your entire body. Hungrily sucking on your clit and feeling a euphoria he had never felt, he began to nibble on it lightly with his teeth, pain and pleasure mixing within you. You whimpered loudly, crying out at the unusual sensation.

Pulling away with a soft kiss, his tongue began to explore the inside, your gummies walls clenching and pulling the muscle deeper. He moaned loudly at the suction, enjoying the feeling more than you were — pushing his face closer, his nose rubbed deliciously against your clit, your hips instantly grinding against it.

“I can’t get enough of you, my angel.” Every ounce of your nectar he could guzzle, he did, inhaling and tasting his favourite flavours.

Your stomach began to coil once more, tightening as your high creeped up on you. Seonghwa felt it and started cravingly lapping at your entire core; through your folds, grazing against your spongy walls, devouring your over sensitive clit. Any area he wanted to taste, he reached for it. You grasped his hair securely, thighs squishing around his head as your third orgasm poured over you like a bucket of cool water. That luscious clear liquid spilled out of you once more, dripping down your thighs and drowning over the head that secured itself in between your legs, waiting desperately for the tsunami. Seonghwa guzzled up every ounce like a starved man, the feeling of his chin glistening with your juices inducing a new obsession — he needed you to squirt on him every time from now on.

Your breaths were heavy and unsteady as you can down from your high. You watched through hooded eyes as Seonghwa climbed up your body, lips connecting with delicacy, spit and the taste of you mixing on each other’s tongues as they danced together. One hand held the small of your back whilst the other cupped your face with such gentleness it made your heart melt for him. Disconnecting the kiss for a breath, lips only inches away, you mumbled a small “I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you too, my goddess Y/N.” He smiled before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. “But I still have so much more love to show you.”

He directed you up the bed, quickly removing his clothes, you watched as his desperate erection bounced out and hit his lower stomach, precum leaking from the reddened tip — a mouthwatering sight of his attraction to you, the only person who could make him like this. He crawled up the bed and hovered over you, eyes locked in contact before leaning down and connecting your lips once more. Kisses were passionate and desire filled, yet so gentle and soft, the ability to portray so many emotions through the simple connection was exhilarating. Hands tracing all over your body, his hips started bucking lightly against yours, aware of your sensitivity but still so desperate for your touch.

Pulling away and watching your fucked out expression still filled with lust for more, he held your face gently before lining himself up with your entrance. The slow stretch was a bittersweet sensation, ache and pleasure molding into one as he bottomed out with a load growl. He stilled himself above you, leaning down in a way to almost protect your body from the world. With peppered kisses around your face and neck, he began to slowly thrust his hips in and out of you, holding your hips with a grip that could bruise. He pushed your bodies as close as possible, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper, he couldn’t bear being any further apart.

The knot in your stomach was already building once more, his building quicker than expected as well. He didn’t realise how much of an effect pleasuring you had on him, enough for him to burst within minutes of entering you. The both of you practically molded into one, the gravitational pull closing between you with every thrust. You rolled your hips upwards to meet his movements, his lower abdomen grazing your clit so gently each time. His thrusts grew sloppier and more desperate as his high came close. Your bodies stuck together with sweat glistening over them, a thin layer shimmering across Seonghwa’s face and slipping down his neck. Pashing your lips together hastily, your tongues rhythmically danced together as your orgasms washed over you within seconds of each other.

The lewd sounds of your juices squirting out and splashing between your bodies filled the room, a melody of moans escaping your mouths that still hopelessly held onto each other. As your waves continued to wash over his lower abdomen and dripped down your thighs once again, the feeling satisfied him as he groaned deeply into the crook on your neck, hot ropes of white cum spilling into you and filling you up. His hips stuttered into you as the last of his cum seeped into you, holding himself there for a while and cuddling into your body. You both breathed heavily against each other, skin sticking together like glue but neither of you cared, too immersed in the aftershocks of your orgasms. 

Sitting there for a few minutes, content with being close and embracing each other as you returned to a more normal breathing state. Seonghwa lifted his head from your neck, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before pulling out of you. He looked at the previous connection of your bodies, staring at your drenched core and watching as his cums spilled out of you. The sight made him want to devour you once more but he knew you were worn out and needed to be cared for in other ways. He climbed off the bed, quickly being stopped by a tug to his wrist. Turning around, he saw the concerned pout that sat on your face, a fear of being left alone — something he would never do.

“My darling, I promise I will be right back.” He reassured, voice soft spoken and with sincerity.

You nodded lazily and followed his figure as he wandered into the bathroom, the sound of the bath turning on echoing into the room. Waiting for the temperature to warm just enough, he walked out with a soft smile before lifting you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom. He placed you down like a delicate flower, climbing into the bubbled bath and holding out a hand for you to follow. Relaxing his back against the cool tiling and sending a small chill down his spine, he guided you down between his legs and secured his arms around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.

Placing soft kisses over the hickies he left on your shoulders, his chin nestled into your neck and rested there. His breath fanned against your cheek, the warmth creating a comfort to you as you relaxed into his arms. The two of you remained embracing one another in the intimacy of the lightly bubbled bath, sharing small words of praise and adoration held towards each other. The love you held for each other was a silent agreement, a promise to never be broken, something you could always trust to be there no matter what happened.

This was all you needed, he was all you needed.

author’s note lowkey forgot about this story for a bit so i'm sorry for the delay (i started writing it in december)... but i hope that you didn't forget about it and it was worth the wait (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ also the intro is definitely inspired by my experiences of body issues and family issues, please don't be offended ♡

p.s completely unimportant to the story but i saw harry styles live TWO YEARS AGO... how has it been two years since i saw my pookie wtf i miss him ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

  ୨୧  taglist + moots   @betda @solaris-amethyst @hwachronicles @autieofthevalley @hwalighters @tyudeongii @e3ellie @atzlordz ♡ @dunno-wut-to-do @foulbreadpirate @hwahan @suluhwa @hwas-star @daniela-f-uwu @flwrshobi @midnightrebel1028 @kmpokjoong @arourababy @lemonkait00 @woohwababes @emmergency

(i went through my followers and tagged whoever had hwa as their profile name/pic and just said "yeah they're hwa biased")

[hairscare]

some of the people in the notes are being really ignorant and shitty so im bringing this back because its important now more than ever. if you want to be alternative stop buying mass produced bullshit. i dont care if it looks cool its not punk its not goth its not alt. what is alternative is doing whatever you can to combat capitalism and waste. wear your old clothes. thrift. diy. but for the love of god please stop going "oh but-" because i cannot impress upon you how much i dont care about you trying to justify what youre doing. alternative movements are about going against the mainstream, and that includes not supporting corporations. the look isnt whats important, its the mindset, but if you do want the look, get it through ethical means, dont buy hollow soulless "alt" fashion.

as for the people who are complaining about slc punk being hypocritical because its a hollywood movie... i genuinely dont even know what to say to that. yes, it is a hollywood movie, and yes, it was made on a budget. that doesnt mean that the film itself has no worth. drawing on my own experience with the movie, i originally only watched it because it had matthew lillard in it. id seen edits of it on tiktok and it looked fun, so i watched it on tubi (where it is still free as far as i know, it kind of goes on and off the platform but it always comes back). watching that movie completely changed my life because its message about performative rebellion vs actual rebellion within the alternative community was something i hadnt spent much time thinking about. the movie completely opened my eyes to that truth, and because of that ive changed myself for the better. slc punk has worth because it can inspire real positive change in the world like it did for me. i also want to point out that a lot of people complain about the ending where (spoilers) stevo stops dressing punk and goes to law school, and i say to those people that they are completely missing the point. just like mike, who realized he could make a larger impact doing ecological conservation rather than getting into fights and smashing cars, stevo is giving up the faux-punk scene to work on changing things in the world. hes using his privilege to become someone who can make things better, and for stevo, thats getting a law degree to fight for change. even if you dont like this ending, please understand the purpose of it: being punk isnt about how you look, its about what you do to change things

me and stevo talk about the commodification of alternative crowds

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Tension at camp is nothing new, but after Daryl nearly takes a swing at Shane, you pull him away to the quarry, offering a distraction that quickly turns into something else entirely.

Tags: smut MDNI, pinv, fem reader, pullout method, kissing, public(ish) sex, outdoor sex, quickie, quarry!daryl, protective!daryl, husband!daryl, shane ‘tell ya what’ walsh is an ass what's new, little bit of praise kink, established relationship, sweet relationship, age gap mentioned but not specified

a/n: I’ve been watching season 1 on repeat too often. I remember when I didn’t think quarry Daryl was that cute and now I’m FERAL for the man. Top 3 fave versions of this man that’s for damn certain. thank you for reading!! lmk what you think!

The smell of campfire smoke was thick in the air, clinging to your clothes, your skin, following you no matter where you sat. It was the first time in a while you’d joined the others instead of sitting around the separate fire Merle usually built on the other side of camp. But with him gone on a recent run into the city with a few of the others, along with the sight of the pile of fish Andrea and Amy had hauled in, you told Daryl the best way to get a bite was to play nice and sit with the group—unless, of course, he wanted squirrel stew for the fifth night in a row.

But now, sitting there, you were starting to regret that decision.

Even with the world gone to hell and class lines erased overnight, some things hadn’t changed. They still shrank away from you, their discomfort as thick as the smoke curling through the air. And Daryl? They didn’t just avoid him. They dismissed him. Ignored him. Like he wasn’t worth a second glance.

You didn’t pay it any mind. You were used to people underestimating him, used to them not seeing him for who he really was. Beneath the sharp stares and sharper tongue, he was a good man. Your man. And these people—they’d never understand that.

The sun dipped lower, setting the valley in a wash of pink and orange, the glow of the fire growing brighter with every passing minute. Conversations murmured around you, voices low as they discussed camp security—how to reinforce their perimeter, how to keep the geeks out. So far, they’d been lucky, nestled deep in the woods with none of the dead stumbling through just yet.

Still, that luck wouldn’t last forever.

You shifted, glancing toward the tree line. “We could set up noise traps,” you offered. “Tin cans, broken glass—something to warn us if somethin’s comin’.”

The second the words left your mouth, Shane, a man with dark eyes and even darker scowl, scoffed as he paused mid conversation with another resident. You barely had time to blink before he turned on you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d had the audacity to speak up.

“Yeah? That what you think?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell you what, next time I need advice on how to run this place, I’ll be sure to come find you, sweetheart.”

The word dripped with condescension, slow and deliberate.

Your lip curled, rolling your eyes as you turned away. “Dick,” you muttered under your breath.

Shane barely let a beat pass before he fired back, voice laced with smug amusement.

“Better watch your lil’ backwoods girl there, Dixon,” he sneered, dark eyes flicking toward Daryl. “Might just have to give her somethin’ to scoff about with that mouth on ‘er.”

Silence hushed over the group like an uneasy wave. The fire popped, the only sound in the sudden, tense stillness as the eyes of everyone in the camp turned to look at you.

There was a loud scrape of metal groaning, Daryl’s lawn chair shoving back under him as he stood abruptly.

“The hell d’you just say, asshole?” he snapped, voice sharp as steel.

Shane barely flinched. His jaw worked, tension coiled tight in his shoulders, but instead of rising to the fight, he let out a slow breath through his nose. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

“Christ, Dixon,” he muttered, voice low, measured, not even smug, just tired. “Ain’t gotta get all riled up. Was just a joke.”

Daryl’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah? Didn’t sound like one.”

Shane exhaled hard, eyes flicking around at the others watching before landing back on Daryl. His expression hardened.

"Ain't my fault you can't take a joke, Dixon. Least when your brother was here, we didn't have to listen to you run your mouth. He at least kept you on your side of camp.”

Daryl’s knuckles went white, his fists clenching tighter as he glared. Across the fire, Shane held his gaze, eyes steady—calm, almost—but there was a challenge in them, a quiet go on, do it lingering beneath the surface, prodding without a word.

You felt the fight still coiled tight in Daryl’s body as you wrapped your fingers around his upper arm, could feel the way his muscles flexed under your grip, the way his whole damn being was strung tight. You stepped in closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Come on,” you murmured, his body warm as your hand curled tighter around his bicep, firm but gentle. “Let’s get outta here.”

Daryl didn’t move at first, his breathing still uneven, his fists still clenched.

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply and let you pull him back, turning away from the fire, from the camp, from the people who would never understand either of you.

The sun's dying light stretched long over the jagged rocks of the valley below, the water rippling in deep, coppery hues as you walked down to the quarry to get your mind off the argument at the firepit. 

When you finally got to the bottom, Daryl leaned against a boulder, his face half-lit in the glow of dusk. He'd been quiet most of the evening, despite his blow up earlier, deep blue eyes flicking to you like he was chewing on something he didn’t quite know how to spit out.

You stepped in front of him, close enough to smell the sweat and earth clinging to his shirt, the faint scent of pine from the day hunting. "I’m sorry about…about whatever that was,”

His jaw ticked. “Ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for,” he muttered, but he wasn’t looking at you, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder. “Dickhead don’t even know good advice if it hit ‘em upside the head.”

You sighed, reaching up to brush a short lock of hair from his forehead. He let out a breath, more like a huff than anything, barely audible, but you caught it.

“You always get like this when you’re thinking too hard,” you teased softly. “What is this really about?”

His lips pressed together, jaw working, like he was still chewing on the words. Then, as natural as breathing, his fingers found your waist, rough and certain, pulling you in just a little closer.

“Just don’t want ‘em talkin’ to ya like that,” he admitted, voice gruff, quieter than the night settling around you. “Like you ain’t worth listenin’ to. Like you ain’t got a damn brain in your head. They only do it ‘cause you’re with me.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way it came out stiff, like he hated even saying it out loud.

“Daryl…”

“They already look at me like I don’t belong here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna let ‘em do that to you too.”

You cupped his jaw, fingers grazing over the rough stubble, waiting until he finally looked at you. His blue eyes were sharp, searching, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was wrong.

“I don’t give a shit what they think,” you murmured. “I chose you. You get that, right?”

Daryl swallowed hard, something flickering across his face–vulnerable and open, his brute mask slipping now that it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, his body pressing just a little closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em make you feel small,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to you.

Your chest ached at the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the way he cared. Like the thought of letting them think so little of you was gnawing at the edges of his mind. Your thumb traced over his skin as you held his face, grazing over his bottom lip, his chin, until you leaned in.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, lips barely ghosting over his. “I know who I am. And I know who you are. Even if they can’t see it.”

His blue eyes caught to yours, something different in them, something raw and sweet that no one else was ever allowed to see. Then, before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours, sweet and gentle, lips chapped but insistent. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the fast, unsteady rhythm of your heartbeats.

You melted into him, hands sliding around his neck, letting the kiss ignite into need and heat, letting him pour everything into it—his frustration, his fear, the love he wasn’t good at putting into words. The quarry was silent except for the quiet rush of the wind over the water and the uneven breaths you shared between kisses.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he took a long moment just to breathe as he closed his eyes. His hands stayed on you, gripping you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged across your lips.

"Thinkin' too hard again?" you whispered.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Shut up," he muttered, but his lips brushed yours again, even softer this time, like he couldn’t help himself.

No one understood Daryl like you did. Not the folks at camp, not the people who side-eyed him like he was nothing but trouble, not even his own damn brother.

Thing was, no one really tried to know Daryl. They saw the brittle edges, the temper, the way he kept to himself. They saw the bickering between him and Merle, the way he came back from hunts with blood on his hands, all silent and brooding.

But you saw the man beneath all that.

Before the world turned upside down, you saw him for what he truly was. Gentle in ways he didn’t realize, kind in ways he never gave himself credit for. A man who had spent his whole life bracing for a fight, wearing his rough edges like armor, until you came along and showed him there was more to life than just surviving, even before the dead came back to life.

You were younger, but that never mattered to you. And once you finally convinced him that nothing—not even a pesky thing like an age gap, and definitely not his own doubts of whether he was good for you—was going to stop you from being with him, you watched him… soften. Let you in. 

You saw him on lazy summer afternoons, stretched out in the bed of his truck, hands behind his head, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stared up at the sky. You saw him when he picked you up for late-night drives, old country rock humming low from the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm on your thigh.

Back then, he was just a man trying to carve out a place in a world that had never been kind to him. A man with rough hands but a soft touch when they traced the curve of your back. A man who met the world with a scowl but looked at you like you were a miracle—something precious, something his, something he’d spend a lifetime trying to deserve.

You remembered the nights he’d come to you after a bad fight with Merle, his knuckles split, his jaw clenched. He’d never talk about it, never tell you what happened—but he’d let you run your fingers through his hair, let you patch him up in the glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re too good for me,” he’d mutter sometimes, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. Like he was afraid that this time you’d believe him and run for the hills.

And you’d brush your fingers through his hair, tilt his chin so he had no choice but to meet your eyes.

"You don’t get to decide that," you’d tell him, voice warm, certain.

He never argued. Just pulled you close, held onto you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

And now, here in the middle of the world ending, he still held onto you like that.

The way those rough, calloused hands could still be careful, still be tender when they touched you. The way he always put himself between you and trouble, whether it was a walker shambling too close or some asshole in camp running his mouth. The way he let you get near, let you see him in a way no one else did.

Some things hadn’t changed, even when everything else had.

Something about those memories had your lips crashing back onto his, pressing him against the boulder with a force that made him grunt softly into your mouth. His fingers dug into your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or drag you closer, but you didn’t give him a choice.

You grabbed the collar of his dirty shirt, fisting the fabric as you kissed him deep, claiming, letting him feel the way you wanted him. He let you have it—let you take and take, let you push up on your toes and press into him like you couldn’t get close enough.

Then, when your hips rolled just right against his, he growled. Low, guttural, needy against your mouth.

His hands slid down, gripping the curve of your ass, dragging you closer until your hips fit against the hard press of him. You gasped against his lips, nails raking up the nape of his neck, and pulled the short hair that stuck there, and that was what made something snap in him.

He twisted you around so fast you barely had time to think, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you forward, your palms bracing against the boulder. The rough stone bit into your skin, but it barely registered. Not with the heat of him behind you, breath hot against your neck, hands dragging under your shirt, spanning wide over your ribs before sliding down.

“You want somethin’ from me, girl? Hmm?” His voice was ragged but taunting, sending goosebumps down your spine as he leaned his body over you. 

A sharp breath left you when he pulled your hips back against him, grinding slow, measured, and the stiff press of his cock behind his jeans made your eyes roll, feeling just how much he wanted you too.

His lips dragged over the back of your neck, sucking in a breath like a hiss when you pressed your ass back into him.

“You, w–want you, Dare,” you murmured, the sound of his name breaking something open in him.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your denim shorts, yanking them down with a roughness that made your breath catch, the cooling night air biting against flushed skin.

After the clatter of his belt buckle and the sharp zip of his jeans, he was on you—kissing your shoulder where the strap of your shirt fell, your neck, anywhere his lips could reach. Then he was there—thick, warm, heady with a scent that made you dizzy. He pressed the tip of his cock into you with a need so desperate it made your knees weak. Your center was slick with wanton need just from his touch, his kisses, the way he took you like he had to—like it was instinct, carved into him, a hunger he could never ignore. His hands splayed over your stomach, dragging you back onto him with a solid thrust, his breath heavy against your shoulder as he took you to the hilt in one long press of his hips. 

“I love you,” he said, voice hoarse as he continued to press open mouthed kisses to your skin, “Love you so god damn much,”

The sun dipped lower, its dying light casting everything in cool blue and shadow, the only warmth now rolling off Daryl’s body. You turned your head, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair, tugging until his lips found yours in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. It was haphazard, messy in the way that made it real—the slide of tongues, the clash of breath, the moan that tore from your throat, loud and shameless against the quiet night.

He groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound, pressing his forehead against yours for the briefest second before dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, everywhere he could reach with his mouth. His hips rolled in steady, aching thrusts, sinking deep before dragging his cock out slow, teasing, making you squirm against the rock.

“I love you too,” you murmured, voice wrecked, sincere. “Always, Daryl.”

His jaw slacked and he rested his face against your shoulder, his pace growing rougher, more erratic, each thrust punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin, his groans mixing with the wet, sinful sounds of your bodies joining in the cool evening air.

“So good f’me, baby,” he whimpered, the sound raw, unraveling. His hand slipped between you and the rough stone in front of you, fingers seeking, finding, calloused fingertips pressing into the heat of you. He knew your body too damn well—knew exactly how to wind you up, knew what it took to have you gasping, shaking, screaming his name just the way he liked it.

“Daryl, it’s—too much—they’ll hear—” you choked, gasping as his fingers worked tight, slow circles over your swollen clit, a shudder wracking through your body.

His lips dragged up the side of your neck, breath hot, voice ragged.

“Fuck ‘em,” he murmured, his voice low and grinding. “Wanna hear every pretty sound you make for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock, just like you always do—c’mon now, baby, give it to me. Be a good girl now.”

A shudder rolled through you, his words sinking deep, making it impossible to fight the pleasure coiling hot in your belly. His fingers pressed harder, circling your clit with devastating precision, his thrusts turning sharp and frantic.

You bit your lip, trying to smother the cry threatening to break free, but he wasn’t having it.

Daryl’s free hand came up across your chest, fingers gripping your jaw, tilting your head so his lips were right against your ear. “Don’t you hold back on me,” he rasped. “Wanna hear you, feel you, know you’re mine.”

Your body tensed, the pleasure mounting too fast, too sharp, and when his teeth scraped down against your pulse point, it sent you flying. 

Your moan broke free, loud and inhibited as your eyes rolled back, Daryl groaning in response, the noise tearing from his throat as his hips slammed in rhythm with his fingers against you.

“There it is,” he gritted out, voice strained. “That’s my girl, fuck—jus’ like that, baby.”

The pleasure tore through you like wildfire, your palms trembling against the rough stone. Your walls clenched tight around him, and Daryl let out a deep, wrecked fuck, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

With a sharp curse, he pulled his hand from your clit once he knew you were through, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, rougher, chasing his own release. At the last second, he pulled out, his fist working over his cock, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled onto your lower back, hot and slick against your skin.

For a long moment, all that filled the night air was the sound of heavy breathing, the cool breeze ghosting over sweat-slicked skin.

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Come wash up with me?”

Daryl huffed, still catching his breath, his hands squeezing at your hips like he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. “Yeah? That what you want?”

You leaned back just enough for your ass to brush against him, teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Well… we’re already dirty,” you mused, glancing at him with a glint in your eyes. “Might as well get clean together.”

Daryl let out a rough chuckle, his fingers dragging slow and deliberate over your skin. “You’re killin’ me, girl.”

You grinned, pulling off the rest of your clothes before taking his hand and tugging him towards the water’s edge.

“Well? You comin’?”

[manicandobsessive]

You’re my lady, I’m your fool | L.H.

Summary: Logan missed his girl.

Warnings: fluff fluff and more fluff, the man is lovesick, cursing, pet names, SUGGESTIVE, mdni please, reader is shorter than logan, based on a wham song, not really proofread im lazy, kind of rushed ending but its still cute

WC: 1.5k+

I had a vision after listening to this song and I wrote this in approximately 1 hour. I’m a wham girlie.

Home. You. Dinner.

That was the mantra Logan chose to repeat in order to remain sane on his drive home. Pedal to the medal, at least 30 over the speed limit at all times. The truck rumbled and groaned with the weight of years of memories and use under him, but he continued his trek home regardless.

Gonna have to change the fuckin’ oil soon, too. He thought. The mere inconvenience adding to his already ever-present irritation.

Every douchebag in Canada had decided today was the day to test his patience. From his dumbfuck coworkers at the lumber yard to the asshole currently riding his tail. He’d had enough. He wanted to be home with you. His girl. His sweetheart, angel, darling, the list goes on. The thought of you was the one string pulling him back to reality. The tether to his life he cherished with every bone in his aching body. He truly didn’t know where he would be if he didn’t have you.

Probably jail.

But you taught him the beauty of kindness. Yours being a beacon of hope for him when he accidentally spilled beer on you at a dingy bar. He’d been staring at you anyways, but humiliating himself wasn’t on the agenda for the night. Yet you didn’t scoff at him, didn’t look at him sideways, not even a curse under your breath. You didn’t bat a fucking eyelash and without skipping a beat, you asked if he was okay. The first example of many showing your unwavering selflessness. It was admirable, you were the better half of the pair of you- in his opinion. He often found himself frustrated with your lack of regard towards yourself, brushing it off like nothing. He’d tried time and time again to tell you to take care of yourself, not to worry about him. And you always, always told him the same fucking thing:

“Can’t control it, Lo. Just care about you.”

Hugging him tightly around the waist, resting your chin on his pecs and looking up at him with that sweet, sweet smile. Your bright eyes and soft face making him huff as he instinctively moved his own arms to hold you closer to him. He never could find himself angry with you.

He reminisced on those memories often. On top of plenty of other moments with you that brought a pleasant smile to his face.

He had no idea that accident at the bar almost 3 years ago would bring him to this point, but fuck if he isn’t overjoyed that it did.

Love was never on Logan’s radar. Written off as another extra thing he didn’t need to bother with. He was certain that life would never be for someone like him- that he’d never find someone to accept him for what he is. For who he is. And you did without a second thought. You’d blown life right back into him, showing him what real happiness is. He swears that when he met you the sun shone brighter each day. Something you would always roll your eyes at, calling him cheesy. But he wholeheartedly believed it- which is saying a lot coming from a man who no longer believes in much else.

The soft glow of your shared cabin came into view, practically calling to him by name. The visual had already calmed his racing heart, knowing you were waiting for him. Probably in one of his flannels and old socks. Your hair flowing freely and your entire demeanor relaxed. It was his favorite look on you, other than when you were begging for him, caged between his thick arms. An endeavor for later, to say the least.

He slammed the truck door shut, moving with a newfound purpose to the front door. He kicked off his boots, leaving them on the front porch. If you took care of the house, the least he could do was be mindful of it.

And laundry, he knew you fucking hated laundry.

The door swung open. Logan made a silent note in his head to oil the hinges of that thing, the creaking got on his nerves.

He’d heard faint music from outside, the notes only getting louder the closer he got to where he needed to be- near you. He knew you were cooking, he could smell the various seasonings and vegetables. But most of all the music. You always had something playing, but it was only ever this loud and upbeat when you were in the kitchen. He’d found you dancing and singing enough times to know what the deal was.

And tonight was no different.

He knew you loved this song, something your dad had you listen to as a kid. A song you grew up on and still loved to present day. He was never a big fan of 80s pop, but whatever you enjoyed he was right there with you. Bopping his head along or tapping his foot lightly, it always made you giggle.

He leant against the wall, watching as you moved with ease throughout the kitchen. How you weren’t an extraterrestrial being was beyond him. He swore you had a halo sometimes.

The grace of your smile, the lightness in your steps, even your voice as you sung along to the music entranced him. Like a siren call. He made his way into the room, smiling when you weren’t even phased in the slightest at him catching you mid concert.

He was however surprised when you pulled him in by his arms, swinging them back and forth as you laughed. He was so caught up in your smile he didn’t even register you telling him to dance with you. Slowly but surely he gave in, a deep, warm chuckle erupting from his chest as you jumped and sang with the energy of a kid on Christmas morning. Your soft hands and sweet scent making him all the more taken with you, if that was even possible.

He spun you, lifting you off the ground in his arms as you let out a squeal.

“Logan!”

He put you down, not bothering to even try removing his arms from your waist as he looked down at you with the most lovesick expression on Earth. Scratch that, every universe. There wasn’t a single one where he hadn’t been head over heels in love with you.

“Hi baby.” He smirked when your face flushed as it always did when he called you that. He loved seeing it, it gave him butterflies. Even after all this time.

You slowly inched your arms around his neck, entangling your fingers with the hair on the base of his neck. He hummed and buried his face into your own, making you giggle. He pressed feather-light kisses on your neck and jaw before pulling back to look down at you once again.

You sung along to the rest of the song, Logan even joining in for one part:

“You’re my lady, I’m your fool.”

He sang, making you smile as you pecked his lips and he drew you in for a much deeper kiss.

“How was work?” You asked as he rested his forehead against yours. He groaned, not bothering to ruin the moment with the laundry list of complaints he’d had about people.

“Hell.” He simply replied, “Missed ya too much.” He mumbled against your lips, kissing you yet again.

You hummed in contentment against his mouth, pulling him impossibly closer. He was so intoxicating you nearly fell to the floor every time he kissed you. Always making you forget your name with the way his lips and tongue moved against your own.

He slowly walked you backwards, not breaking the kiss as he led you to your bedroom. He’d needed to show you how much he missed you since he left this morning. He was a lovesick fuck, and was damn proud of it.

You obliged without hesitation, allowing him to take control and softly rest you on your back on the bed. He kissed your eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead. Anywhere that was accessible to him, he worshipped it- worshipped you. Your breath hitched, arching into him. You’d nearly forgotten you were in the middle of cooking when he came home. The realization hitting you in the face as you squirmed.

“Lo, dinner.” You huffed, trying- and failing- to push him away so you could finish cooking. Of course, you couldn’t fight off a man with a metal skeleton, let alone want to. You needed him, desperately. But you also wanted to make sure the house didn’t go up in flames.

“Logan.” You groaned, he growled against your skin. Pinning you down effectively as he continued his trail of kisses down your body.

“Logan Howlett.” You said with all the authority you could muster up in the moment. He stopped, lifting his head from your stomach and looking at you with a raised brow and that stupidly handsome smirk.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I gotta finish dinner.” You tried to look as stern as you could, but the way his rough hands were gently stroking your thighs made it impossible. Not to mention the look on his face. You knew him well enough to recognize it. Whatever he was about to say would solidify the one thing you knew: you weren’t leaving this bed anytime soon.

“I’ll cook. Jus’ lemme have this, sweetheart. I missed ya.”

[cowboyschumi]

MUSE

Summary: Oscar is known for being bad at padel, which is why he tries other hobbies, like photography. Now, he clearly needs something to take photos of.

Author's note: Oscar trying to play paddel 🤏

I'm a huge fan of taking inspiration from songs, so you can listen to this. Don't forget to enjoy the reading and show some love. <3

Warnings: None ig.

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COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

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Oscar had to be grateful for being that good of a driver. Man, he was really bad at other sports. Everyone pointed it out and made fun of him, some people even pitied him or found it cute. He even tried golfing, but that racket was his last straw. He was a bit frustrated, but Oscar wasn’t the type to get frustrated and give up. He just accepted the fact that he wasn’t gifted enough.

His Instagram was— for his luck because he wasn't a media guy— managed by a social media professional, who made him posts and even took charge of taking pictures. Yes, none of his dumps, captions, or stories were posted by his own hands, which was crazy. He wanted some sort of control over that, after all, he had a voice and a platform. Not taking advantage of that would be a shame, besides there was no fun and genuine part if he wasn't the one behind his Instagram. So he decided to take it more seriously, it made his brain hurt in the most untolerable ways but he started to post more, engage with his fans.

Instagram dumps are such a religious thing for some people, he wasn't in that group until now. Having a picture perfect Instagram would let people have more connection with the places, his interests— perceive him differently and not some boring and flat boy with not much to say.

Like any driver, he had a stylist, a PR team, and other fancy stuff—which he didn’t like much because the main focus was on him, physically. His content was different now; it was full of sunsets, yachts, cars, and food pictures. He had to thank his team for lending him a professional camera—it made the quality ten times better.

"It's a lost cause." Oscar spoke as he carelessly dried his hair with a towel.

You vividly remember the first time he stepped into one of your classes—the typical shy kid who barely spoke. Other drivers came along with him, doing most of the talking, but they weren’t consistent in attending. For them, padel was just a way to kill time. Oscar, on the other hand, wanted to know everything about it—from the size of the court to executing the perfect shot with his racket. A few weeks after his first class, he started booking lessons on his own, demanding more focus and dedication.

He came around twice a week, and seeing him so often, you quickly grew close. So it wasn’t surprising to find him frequently emerging from the showers at the padel club. You had even learned to tolerate his wannabe tennis grunts when he hit the ball. At this point, you had already seen the worst of him.

"You’re just being hard on yourself. Not everything has to be perfect."

Like in any common locker room, there was a bench where people placed their clothes after showering. You sat there as you two talked.

No matter how comfortable you were around Oscar, you respected him, so you made a point of not looking at his shirtless torso.

"Don't give me a pity speech. I’ve heard enough of that." He really did sound tired of hearing it. But it was true—no one should be too hard on themselves for not meeting their highest expectations. Striving for perfection in everything wasn’t normal. Oscar’s mindset was too rigid, and being optimistic felt like an impossible task for him.

"Webber told me you started… photography? He even sounded worried about what you might do with that." Chuckles and laughter echoed through the warm changing room.

"Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty great. Still got a lot to work on," he admitted sincerely, making that classic uncertain face he always did when he wasn’t sure about something. His facial expressions were always amusing. "I got bored of photographing the plants on my balcony at home. Took some photos of Lando, and Hattie doesn’t even want the lens near her."

Laughter filled the room again—it felt like a comedy show at this point. But when it faded, you exchanged a tense glance, as if communicating telepathically. A mischievous smirk lit up his face.

"No." Your answer was immediate and firm, anticipating what was coming.

"I haven’t even said anything!" He raised his hands in mock innocence, his guilty smile still in place. Oh, you knew him too well.

"I won’t. I’m not photogenic."

"Please, just one time."

Oscar always swore on one-time things. But when something felt good, you tended to repeat it. He knew exactly how to take advantage of your kindness, always asking for harmless favors—because, in the end, you never said no to him.

————————————————————————

And there you were, in his Monaco apartment, on a morning when rain was pouring outside. Oscar always pointed out the differences between his current lifestyle and the one he had in Australia, the daily longing for home. That small place in Europe had its charm, and he wouldn’t complain, but he missed the wide-open spaces, the warmer weather, and even his mom’s cooking. Now he lived on the highest floor of the busiest avenue, in a cramped apartment so small that he barely had space to walk around.

"I brought donuts and coffee," You announced while cleaning your boots on the entrance mat.

"Cool, thank you. Would you mind sitting by the window? The light is majestic." His attention was focused on his camera, probably adjusting some tricky settings.

"Already bossing around?" Unbelievable. The kid already thought he was a professional photographer, giving orders and having the worst attitude.

You had a big trench coat on, surprisingly still soaked after the unstoppable rain. And it kept coming—people still struggling with their umbrellas, cars almost floating down the street. That’s what you could see from how high his apartment was.

The brown-eyed boy placed his face behind his huge, intimidating camera, yet somehow, you didn’t feel intimidated by it—after all, he was the one taking the photos. But then, an unexpected expression of discontent crossed his face, confusing you. Your brows furrowed instantly, maybe you weren’t pretty enough to be photographed. You relaxed your body, stopped posing—that was it. At least you tried.

"Take it off." Oscar’s index finger pointed at my jacket, his face continued hidden behind the camera. The view was limited, but his expression remained unreadable—no emotion, all seriousness. Clueless.

"It's freezing cold outside, you're insane." Despite your protest, you did as he told you—just like always, hating yourself for it. Your body leaned against the nearly immense open window, the breeze sneaked through with ease, making your skin shiver. Your face card wasn’t your main attribute, maybe your toned padel body was. Still, you couldn’t quite grasp why he chose you, considering all the contacts and friends he had. Favors were an unbreakable thing between you two, but, of course, you never owed him a thing.

A few more adjustments, and his camera was down again, poker face still tattooed all over him. With slow, measured steps, he walked closer until he stood right in front of you. His mannerisms were always soft and gentle, like he had been written by a woman. Not exactly naive, but delicate enough to make you feel safe and comfortable in his presence.

Oscar set your coat aside, draping it over his vintage couch. His whole place had that aesthetic. You especially loved the Abu Dhabi carpet that stretched across the floor, its deep reddish tones were delightful. His eyes couldn’t help but dart down your slim silhouette. Your white sleeveless shirt, drenched from the rain, clung to your curves, turning entirely translucent against your skin.

Finally, your eyes connected, and you desperately searched for answers, whether in his gaze or through words. The driver was entirely focused on his task, calculating angles, observing the natural lighting, and analyzing your body. Over-analyzing your body.

You knew that look—the one men gave when they stared too long, leaving a disgusting feeling. But Oscar wasn’t like that. Yes, he was staring, but with such admiration and adoration that, for once, you didn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, you felt pretty. Feminine. Reaching that level of femininity wasn’t easy. Padel and sports had always shaped your image, conditioning you to appear tough, stereotypically masculine. But under his gaze, all of that melted away.

You broke eye contact as the staring became too overwhelming for your liking, exceeding your daily dose of attention. You couldn’t just escape him because he was there, and you were working, or something like that. Your breathing hitched, and you involuntarily let out a low gasp at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch was cold, just like your body. The only warmth came from the fire igniting in your cheeks. His fingers hooked around one of your white straps, which had fallen out of place.

God, you wished you could say a word, anything, but you were petrified.

“You look gorgeous.”

“You just say that hoping I’d say yes to another photoshoot. Your guinea pig.” The back-and-forth banter and sarcastic flirting didn’t end, but now you were playing silly enough to avoid any heartfelt compliment. You didn’t like those types of things because you never knew how to react, especially when they came from him. His contagious laughter filled the room and your world turned upside down.

Something always lingered between you two, and it was the expectedly obvious, taking into account the amount of time you spent together—padel mornings or sometimes afternoons, dinner nights if class ended late, and when he actually managed to wake up to his multiple alarms, cycling together. But it was casual because you never knew what could cross a man's mind; spending a whole day together could mean nothing to them, maybe he even saw you in a sisterly way. So you tried to chill, not giving it much importance—because, again, a compliment could mean nothing.

His free hand found its way to your nape, resting his palm there, barely cradling it. You had no choice but to regain eye contact; he had you cornered with his gaze—physically, too. Any cold once brought by the winter weather had vanished. Your skin was hot, almost burning. Oscar's gaze didn’t reflect frenzy or desire; he looked lost, even stunned.

“Let me kiss you, please.” He murmured hopelessly, his words caressing and sweetening your ears in the most shivering way.

“Oscar, professionally is not the best to-” It was just a matter of seconds before he silenced you in the most cliché way possible. His kisses mirrored his personality—timid and shy, as if he were afraid to go too far. Yet, at the same time, they were sweet and innocent, like a first kiss, completely inexperienced.

Something that you clearly weren't used to.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even more close, letting each other feel how you teetered, how you edged by just a kiss. Your consent gave him more confidence, turning the encounter into something deeper, sloppier. His lips parted against yours with more urgency, the hesitation melting away as the two of you let each other get lost in the moment. His breath was uneven, intoxicatingly mixing with yours. The kiss grew needier, desperate, and hungry. The sound of your teeth crashing messily together was secondary as his tongue brushed against your lips, savoring, tasting, before he dared to explore further. The slick warmth, the breathy sounds between kisses, the way his body pressed against yours—it was thrilling in the best way.

“I never really liked padel that much, nor was I good at it. There was no chance of improving. But you know why I kept coming back.” Oscar's smile emerged in the middle of the kiss, his tone playful, hinting that he knew he’d been doing something wrong just for the fun of it. Paying for extra classes just to see your face more than once a week? Genius move.

“Oh, I'm so gonna kill you.” You warned him, still in disbelief, that he’d been such a fool, especially since you would’ve said yes to any date prior if he’d only had the courage. There was no need for this extreme and unnecessary padel. But, still, seeing him struggle was part of your routine—and you enjoyed it. Not wanting to hear any lame excuses, you pulled him in, deciding to stay glued to his lips for a very long time

[outer-andromeda]

Usually I try to better clean up and color these... But I REALLY wanted to share 'em as soon as possible cuz I really like how they look already, sue me :')))

Some story time under the cut for those of you who want context >:000

((EDIT - Small TWs for some negative talk and mentions of grief. Also spoilers for the ending on Chapter 4 :00)

As mentioned in a previous post, Gabby and Doey's relationship is... Very strained after the events of the fourth chapter.

Doey joined the group (Gabby, Kissy and Ava) eventually while they were venturing as subtly as possible to avoid running into Huggy. It was a surprise, obviously - they all thought he was six feet underground since the aftermath of him crashing down. They were all relieved to know he was still alive, but something was different. He wasn't as jovial as his usual self was... He was just... Off. Quiet. Monotone.

(Which is understandable since the guy is literally GRIEVING the loss of the kids of the Safe Haven y'know- and he feels immense guilt for what happened)

At some point, they get separated - Kissy and Ava stick together, while Doey and Gabby venture on their own way, both groups hoping to join each other again eventually. Doey and Gabby still have that quiet dynamic going on, because the human guy doesn't want to make things any worse than they already are. So he tries to be the cheerful one. For both his and Doey's sakes. He tries as hard as he can. But it falls flat. And Gabby, despite himself, grows more and more irritated by Doey's unusual calmness. Something's obviously going on and he won't say anything about it.

Something happens that puts them in a dangerous situation, and everything spills out. Gabby wants to talk, he wants answers. Doey is trying to ignore it, but he's being pushed. And suddenly his anger blooms back out. And he lashes out on Gabby. Shouts all the words he hadn't gotten out. How he was never any good for the kids. How he could've done so much more. How if it wasn't for him, "they'd still be breathing and standing right now". How Gabby can't understand. And Gabby... Takes it. He stands there, listening to every single thing he says. Silently.

He's not afraid. And Doey notices. It's unnerving. It catches him completely off guard. It's like something is starting to break inside of him. Something he's not sure he wants to let shatter much more...

And then Gabby hugs him. And the thing in Doey's core is completely obliterated. And the crocodile tears are finally, finally let loose. And his shoulders finally relax to wrap themselves around the short man.

They talk after some VERY good comforting words from Gabby. They find Kissy and Ava after some searching, and they're back on track.

And from then on, their relationship changes back slowly to the small friendship they had formed in the past, plus more. They both understand and trust each other, and Doey feels relief from having someone he can confide in and let himself relax with. And just... Be a kid. Even if just for a bit. All three kids need that so badly, and Gabby tries his best to give that to them. To Doey. Because he, out of anyone, deserves a break the most.

[cutehoons02]

Do you want to kiss my face?

*pairing: hot loser Sunghoon x tiktoker Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: What would happen if for almost a year you had fallen into a situanship with the boy of your dreams as well as Sunghoon and that day you had thought to play with him, Try to make it fall at your feet with a simple trend seen on tik tok where you had to fill all the face of kissing your boyfriend but maybe you did not realize that maybe it was not you who won but him!

*tags: Trending Tik Tok, a lot of fluffy moments but at the same time they tease each other, Sunghoon is really an underdog for her but is afraid of his feelings, fake innocent girl, a lot of kisses, sucking, nipple games, masturbation (f. receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) jealousy, groveling, possessiveness, pet names (angel,baby) (hoon,hoonie)

5.1k (💋)

(English is not my native language)

A situationship is that ambiguous territory where you find yourself with someone you like but without clear labels. You are not officially a couple, but you act as if you were: spend time together, share intimate moments, and care for each other, but without the "serious" that often accompanies a relationship. It is like living in limbo, where you are both aware of feelings but avoid facing them openly.

With Sunghoon, you were stuck in this situation for almost a year. You loved it, but he always seemed a little distant, a little cynical, and every time you tried to clarify your situation, he avoided the subject. But that day, something had changed. While you were scrolling on TikTok, you came across a funny and affectionate trend: a video where you had to kiss his face, from side to side, then take it back and finally show it covered in kisses.

A cunning smile spread across your face as you pictured yourself doing it with Sunghoon. Maybe this would break the ice, you thought. And so, with a renewed determination, you decided to go into his dorm room and try to drive him crazy like you usually do.

When Heeseung one of Sunghoon’s roommates opened for you, the apartment had the usual chaos experienced: jackets thrown on a chair, a pair of sneakers forgotten in the corridor, glasses left on the coffee table, bowls full of ramen and in the living room there was a huge amount of cables connected to the TV to play those nerd games on the TV.

With a nod, you took off your shoes and headed without hesitation to Sunghoon’s room and knocked twice before opening it without even hearing "an forward" from the master of the room.

He was lying on the bed, illuminated only by the cold light of the monitor. On the screen, a scene from a horror film: screams, blood, disturbing shadows. He had one hand under his head, the other on the keyboard, ready to pause. When he saw you, he lifted himself slightly on his elbows, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and mistrust.

«What are you doing here?» he said suspiciously.

You leaned against the doorknob of his door with a cunning smile and a grin that brought no good.

"Wow, what a warm welcome," you said crossing your arms

«You didn’t answer the question.» said the half-lying boy on the bed while not taking his eyes off you

"And you didn’t say 'hi'. You said with a grin.

Sunghoon sighed and ran his hand through his hair, had seen you countless times in the university halls, at sorority parties, and at the bar of the university but every time he saw you his heart was always beating more than it should and this thing made him crazy because he was the one who hated to show his feelings to people or even worse his emotions that felt.

«Hi. Now answer my question» You stepped forward, looked at the screen, and raised your eyes.

"Are you spending the evening watching horror alone?"

«Better than going to those parties you love so much.» he sighed

"Or maybe you would have preferred to be with me," you insinuated, leaning slightly forward and Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then looked away, suspicious.

«Wait a minute... why are you here, exactly? You didn’t have to be in some club having fun with your friends...»

You sat on the edge of the bed, deliberately ignoring his scrutinizing gaze.

"Can’t I just want to spend some time with you?» you said, lightly touching the tufts of his tuft that were growing ever.

«No, because when you make that face, you have something in mind.» a small smile complicit curled your lips. Sunghoon knew you better than yourself sometimes and this thing scared you because he was the only one who could put you in your place and not let you behave like a spoiled girl.

"Maybe so," you said in a funny whisper

Sunghoon leaned against the back of his bed, crossing his arms.

«I knew something was up. Tell me what you want right now before I get more scared than the movie.»

"Oh, Hoonie, trust me, what I have in mind is much scarier than any horror!"

He looked at you, unsure whether to worry or give up immediately.

«I don’t like the way it sounds.»

"But I’m sure you’ll like it."

Sunghoon gasped, but the blush on his ears betrayed him.

«I have a terrible suspicion that I will regret it.»

You laugh, reaching out to grab the mouse and pause the movie.

"Come on, you’ll only find out if you listen to me." Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then sighed theatrically.

«This is a terrible idea and I don’t even know what you’re going to do to me.»

"Bad ideas always become the best if you make them with the right people!" And as he sat down reluctantly, he already knew that he would have no escape.

You took out your phone and got closer to Sunghoon, with a little smirk on your lips.

"Okay, Hoon, I want to try this trend with you." Sunghoon didn’t even bother to look at you with his eyes still fixed on the screen.

«No,» he said without hesitation

You snorted, showing the video you had saved on TikTok with enthusiasm

"But look what it is!" you said with a frown while you teased his biceps

«I don’t care,» he said as he tried not to listen

"Come on! All my friends are doing it with their boyfriends!"

At those words, Sunghoon slowly turned to you, looking at you with a suspicious expression.

«So what?»

" I want to do it too!" you said with a smile full of hope but he blinked, then raised an eyebrow.

«Little problem: I’m not your boyfriend.»

You stood for a moment in silence, surprised by his answer, God could not stand when he behaved like this, All the people when they saw you thought you were engaged but he had never dared to ask and well you were stubborn and did not want to give in and so crossed your arms with a frown visible in the eyes of Sunghoon.

"What a nice way to tell me no." Sunghoon sighed and went back to watch the movie as if the conversation was already over but you, you just snapped out of bed.

"All right then, I’ll go find someone else," you said as you walked out of his door

«What?!» Sunghoon snapped at you with the film completely forgotten.

"If you don’t want to do it, I’ll find someone else. Maybe Heeseung is available," you said with a smirk, and Sunghoon’s expression darkened instantly.

«You will not do it with Heeseung,» he told you so coldly and you stared at him with a smirk.

"Why not?" you said innocently and he clenched his jaw, visibly annoyed by your spoiled child behavior

«Because it’s ridiculous.»

"Oh, so if I do it with someone other than you is ridiculous, but if I do it with you isn’t ridiculous anymore?" Sunghoon snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

«It’s a problem if you do it with Heeseung or any other guy who isn’t me,» he said, touching my hair in frustration.

"So are you jealous?" you asked with a clever smile.

«No,» he replied too quickly and you looked at him, amusing yourself.

"If you say so... then I’m going, eh."

You tried to turn around, but in a moment Sunghoon reached out and grabbed you by the wrist, holding you.

«Wait.» you turned, holding back barely a victorious smile.

"Yes?"

He avoided your visibly battered look, then puffed.

«Take the lipstick. But don’t abuse it.»

"So you do it?"

Sunghoon glanced at you, cheeks slightly flushed.

«... Better me than Heeseung.» You laughed, taking out the lipstick from the bag.

"Good one, Hoon. I knew you’d give in." He sighed, taking a last look at the film.

«I’ll regret it, won’t I?»

"Nah," You answered, approaching you with lipstick in hand. Sunghoon put the computer away with a sigh and settled more comfortably on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

«Okay, let me see this ridiculous trend."

You sat down beside him with enthusiasm and showed him the video on your phone screen. Sunghoon watched in silence as the girl in the video gave a single kiss on the boy’s cheek, then the video cut him completely covered with lipstick prints all over his face and neck.

He stood still for a couple of seconds, then turned to you with his eyebrow raised.

«You do realize this is an assault, right?» you laugh, shaking the lipstick between your fingers. "Oh, stop it. That’s cute!"

«For whom? For you, that you enjoy torturing me?»

"Exactly." Sunghoon puffed, but the look he gave you was more amused than irritated.

«All right, let’s get it over with». You smiled triumphantly and approached, riding on his legs without thinking too much.

Sunghoon stiffened at once, his eyes wide open in shock.

«What-what the hell are you doing?»

"I make things easier for both of us," You replied with a natural response as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He remained petrified for a few seconds, the look glued to you, then slowly laid his hands on your hips, the big fingers closing with a slight hesitation.

«You’re dangerous,» he murmured, trying to seem impassive, but the blush on his ears betrayed him and you laughed because he was adorable.

"And you’re adorable when you pretend to be indifferent." Sunghoon sighed, trying to relax.

«Let’s move on before I change my mind.»

You picked up the phone and started recording, came closer and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, then walked away with a satisfied smile.

"See? Easy." Sunghoon nodded in a feigned professional tone.

«If it ended here, I would say that it was even pleasant.»

"But that’s not the end of it," You said, laughing

Before he could protest, you reapplied lipstick with a diabolical air and started the second part.

The first kiss was on the jaw. The second is near the corner of the mouth. The third is on the cheekbone. Sunghoon had started with a cynical expression, but as you continued, his breath became slightly deeper, his hands on his hips clenched instinctively.

«That’s an abuse,» he muttered, but his voice was strangely lower than usual and you smiled at his skin.

"Oh, stop it. You like it."

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, but when you came down with kisses along the neck, you felt his fingers clench even more in your hips.

«Wait a second»

"Shhh." You left him a kiss right under his ear, and you heard Sunghoon hold his breath for a second.

«...You are the devil.» he finally said in a slightly more husky voice.

"And you’re my favorite loser," You replied, chuckling as you walked away to admire his masterpiece. Sunghoon leaned against the headboard of the bed, eyes closed for a second as if he was to recover. Then he looked at you with an amused expression.

«Finished?» You checked the phone and smiled satisfied, the video had come out great and it also looked very funny but the thing that made your heart warm was how Sunghoon was looking at you and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

"Finished. You’re beautiful." Sunghoon snorted, but the smile on his lips betrayed him.

«If anyone sees this, I will move to another country.»

"Too late, I post it on TikTok."

«You don’t- wait, you won’t really post it!»

You laughed while he tried to rip the phone out of your hands but you were faster and you had just published it and there were already likes on the video. Sunghoon speed took your phone and watched the video there was a video of himself, completely covered in kisses, with the caption: "With my fav loser bf ❤️💋"

He was petrified for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward her. «Tell me you didn’t post it."

You just laughed, rocking slightly while still sitting on his lap.

"Come on, it’s so cute! Look at the comments, people love us."

«We are not a couple,» he replied immediately.

You shook your shoulders carelessly, pretending that his words did not hurt.

"BF stands for best friend." When Sunghoon heard those words you stuck, best friend. Did you just consider him a simple best friend?

His brain instantly jammed. They had never been friends. Not in the true sense of the word. Not when he spent his evenings watching you laugh, wondering if it was legal for someone to be so bright. Not when his heart made a small leap every time you got too close and certainly not when he imagined you in much less innocent contexts, like with that damn lipstick smudged because of him.

Best friend?

The cock.

Without thinking too much, his hands on your hips squeezed slightly and, with a smooth movement, he pulled up a little, getting closer to you even more and you looked at him surprised.

"Sunghooon?" He did not answer. The dark eyes fixed on yours, the fingers pressing lightly on your skin, the breath heavier than usual.

And then, without a moment’s hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was not sweet, it was a direct hit, a statement, a warning. His lips moved on you with an almost frustrated intensity, his hands held you in your hips, as if he was afraid that you would run away from him, and when he came off, your breaths were entangled. You looked at him with your eyes wide open, completely speechless and Sunghoon ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the taste of lipstick again. Then, with a low and confident voice, he said: «I’m not your best friend.»

You stared at him, the heart that beat a thousand, and a funny smile formed in your lips again savoring the sweet taste of his lips that had kissed you a few seconds before.

"Oh,." He tilted his head slightly.

Oh?» he repeated, raising an eyebrow. «Is that all you have to say?»

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, the brain desperately trying to recover. Then, finally, you let slip a clever little smile.

"So... if you’re not my best friend, then what are you?"

Sunghoon looked at you for a long moment, then slowly ran his hands down your hips, getting closer still but you saw that he didn’t really know what to say and you were tired of seeing him so confused, this time it was you who kissed him. Your lips melted to hers in a deep kiss, initially sweet, but that soon turned into something more intense. Your hands went up his neck, fingers intertwined in his soft hair. Hoon hesitated for a moment, surprised, but then his arms stretched around you with possessive force.

The kiss continued, the beating of your heart accelerated, and your breathing intertwined. When you finally came off, his look was uncertain, but his lips were slightly closed, red and shiny for your lipstick. It made you smile to see him so vulnerable and beautiful. With your thumbs trembling, you brushed the contour of her lips, spreading the lipstick slightly out from the edges.

"You’re beautiful," you whispered, as your breath touched her skin.

Hoon swallowed, Adam’s apple moved visibly, and you noticed the redness on his cheeks. But before he could say anything, you tilted your face and began to kiss his neck but this time no longer sweetly but you wanted them to know that he was yours. You felt his body stretch under your touch, and a low moan escaped from his lips as he uttered your name.

«Angel, you have no idea what you are doing to me,» he said in a roaring voice, and you felt the heat rising in your body.

Without thinking about it, you pulled off the sweatshirt and wow,

His biceps looked even more sculpted than the last time you saw him. You did not resist the temptation to run your fingers over it, your red nails left a slight shiver on her skin. " With these biceps, you could make another TikTok trend, the one with the bow..." you laughed.

He puffed, but the smile that bent his lips betrayed the fun. «You can do what you want with it, Angel.»

You lit up with a cunning smile and began to kiss him on the chest, going down slowly to his navel. You felt his breath become irregular as if he was holding something. But you wanted him to go crazy, you wanted him to completely lose control. So, with the same gentle slowness, you continued, leaving a kiss just below the navel.

His reaction was immediate: his breath became heavier and you felt its length grow under the suit. You looked up at him, biting your lip with a mischievous smirk. "Is anyone excited?" You provoked, rubbing lightly against him.

Hoon blinked, as if he was trying to maintain his lucidity, then grabbed you firmly by the hips, pulling you closer. «I shouldn’t call you Angel, but hell,» she whispered with a grin, before catching your lips again in a deeper, more desperate kiss.

Hoon was fucked by you. In that moment, but also others, you were the one who had control, and seeing how you rubbed over him made him lose his mind. He felt his cock getting harder and bigger in contact with your center as you swung slightly and with his arms took you by the hips and laid you down in bed. He climbed up on you and with a satisfied smirk said:

"Let’s see who laughs now.» You still laughed, but the sound of your laughter soon turned into a thrill when he took off your shirt with a single gesture. His eyes darkened at the sight of your red bra, and he noticed how your tender buds were already turgid. He did not waste time, took it away from you without asking and when he saw your breasts slightly bouncing in plain sight, he lost all control. His big hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing them slightly, causing a shiver down your back.

«Damnation, angel...» he muttered before bending down and kissing your breast, licking your nipples with exasperating slowness, nibbling them just to tease you; Your breasts were perfect for his big hands and he saw how sensitive your buds were when they touched his cold fingers or contact with his tongue as he sucked you and tickled them and felt how hard they were.

You rolled up your back, his attentions were driving you crazy, and you felt his length getting harder and harder, rubbing against you through the clothes.

«My sweet and innocent angel is so needy of my attentions?» he provoked you with a roaring voice and amused, continuing to torment your body.

You gave him a defiant look, biting your lower lip. "I’m not as innocent as you think."

He laughed but stopped abruptly to leave a kiss on your navel. Then, without warning, he lowered his hand and touched your center still covered by panties, making you shudder.

«So wet and needy for me,» he whispered, with a voice charged with desire and malice.

His dark gaze, burning with desire, rested upon you and his mischievous smile made you hold your breath.

«All for me," he whispered, with that low, husky voice that drove you crazy as she took off your panties and his fingers brushed your clitoris with a delicacy that made you tremble. And then, without warning, he pushed a finger into you, ripping off a choked-out groan.

"Hoonie..." his name slipped from your lips without you being able to stop, and it was your ruin.

His eyes darkened, his lips bent in a satisfied smile, and he immediately added another finger, moving them with studied precision, as if he wanted to carve you into pleasure. You felt trapped, but at the same time, you didn’t want to run away. Because you knew he would keep on begging you.

«Look how responsive your body is to me,» he whispered, leaning over you as his fingers did not begin to stop. «You like it when I take control, don’t you?»

A groan, louder than expected, confirmed his answer.

«I knew it...» he laughed softly, his mouth hot against your skin. «Always so stubborn, but look how you melt for me.»

With his other hand, he moved on your breast, stroking and teasing your sensitive buds until another whimper was torn from you. Then, as he kept moving his fingers inside you, her thumb found the clitoris again, brushing it with perfect pressure, which made you completely lose control.

Sunghoon kept pumping his fingers inside you and they were full of your excitement and he thought he could come in that exact instant while you moaned his name, took his fingers well, and diminished yourself to get more and more from him.

«You’re so tight around my fingers... who knows what it will be like when there’s my dick in their place»

You felt overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that shattered you, your body trembled and your breath was broken. Hoon stopped only when he heard you relax under him and come between his fingers, then pulled back his fingers and brought them to his lips, tasting you with a smug smirk.

«So, good» he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on you as his tongue touched his fingers. «But I want much more, Angel.»

Your fingers trembled slightly as you undressed his boxers, and your breath slid down your throat. Gosh. It was long, full, tense with desire for you, with a drop of clear liquid shining on the tip. Instinctively, you licked your lips, eyes chained to its length.

Hoon laughed softly, his voice low and husky. «You’re so impatient, angel...» he whispered as he sucked his cock slightly. «Tell me how much you want it.»

You looked at it, your face lit up, the desire that clouded your mind. "I want it," you murmured. "I want it as much as you want me."

A dark flash crossed his gaze, his lips curled into an arrogant smile. He grabbed the base of his erection and, without warning, passed it slowly over your bright, excited entrance, touching your swollen clitoris, and making you shudder beneath him.

"Hoonie..." your impatient whining made him laugh again, but there was a tension in his gaze as if he was about to lose control.

«Don’t be capricious, little one," he murmured against your mouth, the tip of her member pressed right where you wanted it most. «You like to be teased, don’t you?»

"You’re an asshole..." moans, nails sinking into his shoulders as he kept torturing you with those slow and provocative movements.

«Mm, yet...» He pushed himself in with a single, fluid thud, filling you completely, and a high moan escaped from your lips. «... You are so tight around me, angel.»

A choked scream escaped you, but he was quick to cover your mouth with one hand, his eyes shining with pure lust. «Do you want the whole dorm to know that I’m fucking you so well?»

You shook your head frantically, but when he came out almost completely and then went back in, deeper, stronger, your body betrayed your voice and another harsh moan escaped you.

Hoon licked his lower lip, smug. «Baby, it seems like you want everyone to know that you’re all mine.»

Hoon had always made you crazy, but never as in that moment.

Hoon had always made you crazy, but never as in that moment. His hands held your hips with a firm grip as if he wanted to mark you, hold you still beneath him as he sank deep inside you with a slow, deep thrust, making you feel every inch of his excitement and his cock filled you so deeply that you never had enough.

His dark eyes were pointed at yours, full of desire and pure dominion. He licked his lips, watching you writhing beneath him, your groans choked by his fingers playing with your swollen and pulsating clitoris.

«Tell me, angel... who is winning between me and you?» whispered with a perverse smile, her voice husky and low as the thumb began to massage your swollen clitoris more firmly.

You were hungry, the pleasure that ate you made it impossible to talk, but Hoon was not the kind to wait. His big hand slid up your throat, squeezing it slightly as his gaze grew even more intense.

«Answer, baby,» he ordered, sinking deeper into you, making you moan loudly. «You feel so good below me, but I want to hear you say it."

"Y-Yes... you’re winning. I’m coming," you panicked, your body trembling at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you mercilessly.

A satisfied grin appeared on his lips. «Good girl,» he murmured, bowing down to bite your ear lobe, while with one last push your body gave in completely to pleasure, making you scream her name.

To hear you hold him so tight made him crazy. «Fucking perfect...» He growled against your skin, increased the rhythm with powerful and fast movements, the bed that slammed against the wall at every stroke. «God, you are mine... Only mine.»

"H-Hoon... I want you inside me," he groaned, his body still in the throes of orgasm spasms while he wouldn’t slow down.

«You know what I want, angel?»

growled against your neck, giving you a small bite while with two last, violent pushes she let go inside of you, filling you completely. «I want you to remember who made you feel this way.»

He remained within you for a few seconds, gasping, as his gaze burned against yours. Then, with a smug smile, he bowed down to kiss you on the lips softly, with a sweetness in contrast to the intensity just before.

He looked down to the point where they were still joined and caressed your inner thigh, watching her seed slowly dripping out of you and the various strands of semen coming from your pussy. His grin became even more mischievous as he ran his tongue over his lips.

«You are so beautiful,» he murmured, with a husky and satisfied voice. «All full of me...»

He looked up to meet yours, dark eyes full of desire and possession. «And now don’t even try to run away, because I’m going to fill you up again.»

And with another slow and deep push, he made you realize that that night was still long.

Hoon was still lying on the bed, his breathing heavy and steady as a hand caressed your bare back. You were leaning against his chest, but your mind was far away, full of doubts and insecurities that you didn’t even want to admit to yourself.

Yet, the more time passed, the more a strange feeling gripped your stomach.

What if it was just a game to him? The thought tormented you. You didn’t want that night to be just a passing moment, an impulse he would forget the next day. Sunghoon had always been important to you. He was never just a friend, never just a crush.

You realized that you were torturing the nails of his nervous hand, while with the other you played with Sunghoon’s fingers, drawing little circles on the back of his hand.

«Why are you so serious?» he asked suddenly, his voice slightly hoarse. «It’s strange to see you so silent.» You shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing, it’s just that..." You took a deep breath, then you pulled yourself up slightly. "Maybe I should go home." Sunghoon immediately rose on his elbows, confused.

«Wait, what? Why do you want to leave suddenly?»

Bite your lip, fight. You didn’t know how to tell her without looking stupid, without looking too much.

"I don’t know," You said finally, angry with yourself for not being able to find the right words.

Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, his face slightly frowning. Then, with a more sweet and chattering tone, he asked:

«Did I do something wrong?» That question made you explode.

"No! That’s the problem!" you slammed, clenching your fists on the blankets. " Me, you did nothing wrong is just that for me it wasn’t just..." you interrupted, narrowing your eyes as if to find the courage to continue. "For me, it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t a game. I really want you, Sunghoon."

He stood still.

"I want something serious." You kept your voice lower, more vulnerable. "And I’m afraid it was just... a moment for you."

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

You felt ridiculous. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him. Maybe you ruined everything.

But before you could add anything else, Sunghoon moved.

He approached and with an unexpected delicacy took your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You deglutites.

"I... I don’t know." Sunghoon sighed, then ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.

«I’m terrible at these things,» he admitted, looking down for a moment. «I don’t know how to say it right, but-fuck, do you think I’d let anyone kiss me like you did if I didn’t really care? Do you think I could want any girls like I want you, how this evening?»

You looked at him surprised, and he continued, the hands that came to clasp around his.

«I want you. Always. I never wanted to be just your friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and you are always so bright, so damn out of my reach... » he interrupted, squeezing his lips in a thin line, then sighed. «But if you really want me, then I am yours with my strengths and weaknesses»

You felt the heart skip a beat.

"Really?" You asked quietly. Sunghoon nodded, a slightly embarrassed smile on his lips.

«Seriously. But on one condition.»

"Which one?"

He gently pulled you towards himself, making you lie on his chest again, and whispered in her ear:

«That TikTok we do it again, but this time the caption will be right and you’ll write that I’m your boyfriend, not your BEST FRIEND!»

You laughed, and the knot in your stomach disappeared completely and maybe that tiktok trend had formed a new pair.

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[captain-hawks]

yakuza!kuroo, 18+ (fingering, oral sex f!receiving)

it’s your wedding night, and kuroo is weak.

weak after months of watching you yearn for his affection, of watching your hopeful expression morph into something painfully resigned (it feels like a gash behind his ribcage).

he thinks back to the night he took your father aside. he didn’t even know you, yet he found himself pleading with your father not broker a deal with nohebi. not to marry you off to fucking daishou suguru.

“he’ll ruin her,” kuroo bit out, because he knows what happened to daishou’s last wife (he shudders at the memory of it).

the thought of another woman going through that makes him sick to his stomach.

“i have no other choice to keep her safe right now,” your father stared at him, blunt and unapologetic. “you know who i am, what that entails.”

marriage was such a foreign concept to kuroo at the time, he’d never considered it for any sort of arrangement, let alone out of love. and yet—

“i’ll marry her.”

your father had warned him not to get attached. the engagement, the marriage—it’s all meant to be temporary. until things in tokyo cool down or your father decides to whisk you off somewhere else entirely.

you’re with kuroo for nekoma’s protection.

you don’t know this, of course. that kuroo’s been keeping you at arm’s length because he doesn’t want to hurt you when this charade crumbles. it’s better for you to hate him from the start.

(and really, he doesn’t trust himself to be able to let you go back to your father once he’s truly had you. once you’re really his.)

but it’s your wedding night.

and kuroo tetsurou has become a weak, weak man.

(weak for you.)

“do you want help?”

kuroo pauses in front of your bedroom, door left slightly ajar, gaze falling to where you’re currently struggling to undo the straps of your heels.

you blink at him several times, and he can’t blame you for being surprised. he’s never set foot in your bedroom, after all (not counting the night he brought you home after you were abducted—when he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you as he carried you in his arms to your bed).

but you eventually nod, collapsing back onto your mattress in a huff.

you changed into a short, thin, white silky dress for the latter half of the evening, one that’s been mercilessly eating away at the frayed edges of kuroo’s wavering self-control. and now your pretty, smooth thighs are on full display as the skirt unapologetically rides up with the position that you’re in.

kuroo inhales slowly before coming to kneel between your legs, trying not to revel in the way he feels you immediately react to the feeling of his hands wrapping around your ankles.

he doesn’t mean to do it, doesn’t mean to run the pad of his thumb over the arch of your foot (doesn’t mean to forget to breathe as he listens to your answering sharp intake of breath).

but kuroo is weak, weak for you. weak for his wife.

and when his heat of his lips finds your ankle, he can’t bring himself to care about anything else but the way you whimper his name.

“kuroo.”

he glances up at you, finds you sitting up halfway on your elbows staring at him with an expression that has his pants tightening almost painfully against the swell of his cock.

“i think we can agree it’s tetsurou now, no?” he asks before leaning back in to press a longer, hotter open-mouthed kiss to your knee.

your fingers bunch in the sheets.

“tetsurou,” you gasp.

kuroo feels something zip down his spine at the sound of those syllables dancing off of your tongue. and it’s a little terrifying, the sudden free fall he finds himself in—this near-loss of control.

because in this moment, kuroo knows he’d do anything to hear that sound again.

and he knows that despite all of the distance he’s wedged between the two of you, despite the fact that that this is supposed to be business and you were never really meant to be his—

kuroo knows now that if someone wants to take you away from him, they’re going to have to kill him first.

he wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you to the edge of the mattress, slowly sliding up the skirt of your dress as he greedily kisses his way up the inside of your thighs.

you’re so fucking sensitive beneath his touch he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

your panties are the same blood red shade as the tie he wore today. his cock aches at the revelation. he runs a careful finger over the lace, staring up at you from where he’s still kneeling between your spread legs.

“can i touch you?” he asks, voice a little hoarse.

you have to smother a laugh with your hand, borderline hysterical over the implication that there’s any universe where you’d deny him. kuroo fights the urge to palm his dick through his pants as you say “yes” and “please.”

the lace tickles his lips as kuroo mouths at your cunt through your panties, teasing you until the material’s wholly soaked through with his spit and your arousal as you unconsciously bury your fingers in his hair and beg him for more.

you loosen your grip when he stops sucking at your clothed pussy, eyes widening a little as you realize you were pulling his hair.

“sorry,” you breathe out.

kuroo grins, butting his head against your hovering hand, “no, i like it.”

hooking a finger in your panties and tugging them aside, he lets his teeth press into his lower lip as he stares at the messy slick dripping from your folds.

for him.

he swipes his thumb up and down the length of your slit, just barely skirting the swollen, waiting bundle of nerves at your apex.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs, feeling the messy smear of precum steadily soaking into his pants while you buck your hips into his touch.

kuroo’s never had the pleasure of coming untouched.

but he thinks he could when he slides a finger into your soaking wet cunt and feels the way your creamy walls tighten around him.

he thinks that the sound of you moaning his name alone could milk his cock dry as he fucks you with one finger until you’re begging for two, pulling his hair and cupping his face in a desperate frenzy.

and then kuroo slides off your panties and buries his tongue in your cunt, and he feels just as gone as you sound and feel while you’re wildly bucking into his touch, choking out a sob as a wet spray squirts out of you while when he sends you tumbling over the edge of your climax.

(he groans against your pussy as he feels his cock finally twitching and pulsing hot and thick in his boxers.)

the two of you sit there for minutes afterward, you on the bed and him kneeling on the floor before you, both of you struggling to catch your breath. to make sense of what just happened.

and something inside of kuroo cracks open at the shuttered look of rejection that begins to sink across your face when he goes to stand up, takes a step away.

you don’t try to stop him.

but he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he murmurs, “i’m just getting a towel to clean you up.”

you look up at him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

“i’m not leaving,” he assures you, slowly stroking the curve of your jaw.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: It's hump day, my dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don’t see Bucky at all the next day. His motorcycle is gone when you leave for work and when you come back. You assume he has his own work to do, or some running around. He did just move in. You try not to take it personally but you are disappointed. 

This is a lot more fun than all those other times. You’re not as stressed, not as insecure. Maybe it’s because you’re not hoping for more. Because you took a page out of Angelique’s book and stopped caring. One way or another, you’re going to get rid of your v-card. It doesn’t have to be special, it just has to happen. 

On your day off, you decide to get rid of the prickly weeds around the front porch. It's the perfect opportunity for you to show off your shortest shorts and blast some tunes while you’re at it. You put on your rose gold headphone and the best of girly pop. 

You smell coffee but don’t see your neighbour. You don’t want to be too obvious. You get down on your knees and pull-on the dollar store gardening gloves. You’re not good at any of this but these damn plants keep scratching your ankles. 

Before long, your alternative motives drift away as you wrestle with roots. You yank free a particularly stubborn weed and send up a cloud of dandelion fluff. You sneeze into the back of the glove. A shadow passes over you and a gentle tap lands on your shoulder. 

You squeak and drop the leaves. You pull off your headphones and twist to look up at Bucky. Your shoulder tingles where he touched. It’s hard to think someone like him can be so soft. 

“I’m headed into town...” he crosses his arms, the cleft in his chin deepening as he mulls his words, “you said you wanted to test out the motorcycle...” 

“Oh really!” You exclaim as you look up at him. You focus on his face, even as you’re innately aware of how close your are to something else. “Oh, Bucky, that’s so awesome. I’ve been so excited for this.” You gather up the compost bag and he offers his hand. He hauls you up to your feet and reluctantly let go. “I’ve been so patient.” 

He hums, “you can’t wear those. You’ll get burned.” 

He looks down at your shorts. You giggle. You pull off your gloves and clutch them together. “I’ll get changed. I have the perfect pants!” 

He just nods. 

“I’ll wait,” he assures and points over his shoulder. 

You grin and spin to rush away, headphones bouncing around your neck. You dump the gloves and bag on the porch and clatter through the door. You stop to wipe the dirt off your knees and strip off your shorts before you get to the bedroom. 

You search out the fake leather leggings with all the fake zippers. The sun won’t be kind but you don’t mind. You slip into them and find a strappy red top with a bandana style cut at the hem. The bejeweled letters across the front read ‘sinful’. It’s cheesy but you love it. 

You find a pair of sunglasses with thick black cat eyes and trade your sandals for leather booties. You hook your purse across your body as you come out with a jangle of your keys. You zip those away with your phone as you come down the stair. 

Your chest jiggles with each step as your upper tummy peeks out beneath the fabric. Bucky looks over and arches a brow. You approach as he takes a helmet from the handlebar. 

“Found a spare,” he offers. 

You take it and thank him. His eyes skitter between you and the bike. You giggle and tap your heels in excitement. You're genuinely amped up for this. 

“It’s so cool!” You say, “oh, will you take a picture of me with the bike?” 

He squints and his cheek dimples. He shrugs, “sure.” 

“Amazing,” you unzip the small crossbody pouch, “here.” 

You unlock your phone, your background a picture of you, Angelique, and another friend, Tracy, your backscreen. You bring up the camera and hand it over. 

“Oh, can I get on or?” You face the motorcycle. 

“Sure, be careful.” 

You put the helmet on and let the straps hang loose. First you pose in front of it and cock your hip. He aims the lens, your flowery blue and purple case looks dainty in his large tattooed hands. Then you cautiously approach. He comes closer and puts his hand under your elbow to help you onto the backseat. You notice the backrest that wasn’t there before and the shining new chrome bolts that hold it on. 

You straddle it as he backs up. You stick your tongue out for another picture. Then you smile and give a peace sign. 

He lowers the phone and nears, offering it to you. You snag his forearm, “and a selfie? Together.” 

He twitches. “I don’t much like pictures.” 

“Just a memory. Promise, I won’t show anyone.” 

He growls and shows his palms, “what... what do you want me to do.” 

“Here, turn,” you direct him, “put your arm around me and get in frame.” 

You flip the camera and extend your arms. He moves stiffly and hovers his arm over your shoulders. He smells like oaky cologne. You smile as he growls at his own reflection in the phone. You lean into him and watch his features calm then snap the photo. 

“So cute,” you exclaim. “That’s my new wallpaper.” You tap on the three dots and quickly replace the pic of you and your girls, “see.” 

“Huh?” He stands straight. 

“Everyone’s going to think I’m so badass. I mean, I’m not, but they’ll think I am,” you chime. “Oh, uh,” the straps tickle your neck as you put your phone away, “Bucky, I’m so dumb. Can you help?” 

You pinch the straps and flick your lashes at him. He exhales again. You stare at the front of his plain black tee. It clings to his muscles and squeezes his thick biceps. He takes the straps and loops one through the metal ring. His fingertips brush your throat and chin. 

He slowly tugs it snug and his hands freeze. He stares at them and his gaze slowly crawls up to your lips. The air turns stolid around you. He winces and puts his hand on the helmet, wiggling it to test it. 

“Good to go,” he drags his hand off and turns his back to you.  

He grabs the other helmet and pulls it on over his hair. He slides on his sunglasses before he straddles the bike in front of you. He grips the handlebars and takes it off the stand, kicking it back as he easily supports the heavy beast of a bike. His strength is felt in the shifting axel. 

“Gotta hang on unless you want road burn,” he says over his shoulder. “Gonna be loud.” 

“I can handle it,” you assure him as you lean in and wrap your arms around his middle.  

You feel his stomach clench. He turns the key then brings his hand back to turn the throttle, making the bike roar. He walks it back and angles it down the street. He gets it rolling then puts his feet up, zipping off through a tunnel of wind. 

You let out a gleeful holler. The rush is unlike anything you felt. Your heart is pumping and your veins are on fire. You hug him tighter and laugh raucously. 

He stops at a sign and plants his boots, “you okay?” He calls over his shoulder. 

“I’m perfect. I’m-- I’m in heaven!” You answer and wiggle in the seat. 

He takes off again. You squeal and cling to him. You watch the smear of the buildings, trees, and pavement. You feel like you’re flying. Not to mention, you’re vibrating. You feel your leggings getting wet. This is more than fun, it’s fucking hot. 

At last, he stops and quiets the beast. You look around the plaza as he kicks down the stand. He waits and signals you off first with the tilt of his head. You get off and he follows. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says. “Boring stuff.” 

You look over at the organic shop sign. You laugh, “are you buying gluten free granola?” 

“Something like that,” he almost smiles. Almost. 

“Hang onto that,” he taps the helmet. 

You unloop the straps and hang it from your elbow, “yes--” you have to stop yourself from saying daddy. You’re not sure if it’s a joke or serious at this point. “Sir.” 

He eyes you then scoffs, “alright, then, doll, let’s go.” 

His cheek ticks and he looks away. He turns his back to you quickly and beckons you with his hands. You follow. 

“Doll,” you say. 

“Sorry--” he begins. 

“I like it. It’s cute! Like a Barbie, right?” 

He sniffs and opens the door of the shop, “sure, something like that.” 

Or a sex doll? You think to yourself. You nearly dance through the door. This is an amazing day. 

He enters behind you. You radiate to the rack of plant-based candies. They are all so colourful. He sidles along to the bin of trail mix. He takes a paper bag and dumps a scoop inside. 

“They have any with M&Ms?” You shuffle up next to him. He grunts. “Kidding.” 

“Good food,” he mutters. “Nice place.” 

“I’ve never been before,” you say. “You’re not vegan? That pie I made had real meat?” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “nah, just... try to appreciate the small things, these days.” 

“Right. Well, it’s a really cool place—oh, cookies!” 

You brush by him and snag up a box of the vanilla glazed shortbread. They look delicious. You turn to him and grin as you show him. 

“Small things, right?” You bounce back toward him. 

He stares at you a moment, “yeah.” He nods and folds over the top of the paper bag. “There’s... there’s a bar around the corner.” 

“Oh, a bar?” You chirp. “How about I buy you a round? For the ride?” 

“Mm, I was just gonna run over and deal with... talk to a friend.” He browses as he speaks. “Thought you could wait with the motorcycle.” 

“Oh,” you deflate, “whatever you like.” 

“Or... you can sit for a drink. Won’t be long,” he shrugs. 

“Bucky, I’m all yours. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He coughs and grabs a loaf of ten grain. 

“One drink,” he grits out. 

👙

You buy your cookies and Bucky his small haul of groceries. He fits it all in his saddle bags as you watch. He comes around and points you around the other side of the plaza. He walks beside you. As you think about how you must look together, you get all fluttery. 

You’re tempted to grab his hand but you don’t want to spoil all your progress. After all, he invited you. And now he’s taking you for a drink. Sort of. 

He holds the door at the bar for you, greeting the bouncer with familiarity. You look around the dim space. It’s just after noon, there’s not too many people there. He points you to a table. 

“What do you drink?” He asks. 

“Do you think they have appletinis?” You ask. He blinks. You laugh at him. “Joking, I’ll have a light beer. Any brand.” 

“Right, doll, coming right up.” 

You sit and watch him go. He talks to the bar tender and points to the table. Then he walks up around the curve of the bar and into the backroom. You narrow your eyes curiously. Huh. 

The bartender pulls a tap and pours the pint. He brings it to you. “Miss.” He retreats as if he’s afraid of you. Before you can even thank him. 

You pull the tall glass close as condensation hazes along the outside. You taste the thin layer of foam. It’s a bit tangy. You peer around listlessly. This isn’t very exciting. 

This isn’t the typical sports bar. There's a pool table and a dartboard but no TVs for the games. There’s leather jackets and skull emblems and a few disarmed guns on wooden plaques. 

There’s a thunk from the back of the bar then the slam of a door. You peer over as Bucky emerges and stops at the bar. Without a word, the bartender pours him a dark glass of liquor. He grabs it and marches over to you. He sits and sighs. 

“Had to hit the restroom,” he says. 

“No worries,” you make yourself drink the beer. Wheaty. 

“You make up your mind?” He asks. 

“Hmm,” you wipe foam from your lip. 

“About the motorcycle. Still want one?” 

“I definitely want one!” You grin. He brushes his fingertips over his knuckles. They’re reddened. Is one of them split? Were they like that before? 

“It’s an investment. Those new ones are... well, if you’re looking for a vintage model, I know some people. I could do any bodywork you need,” he offers. 

“Really? Oh, Bucky, you’re so sweet!” You chime. 

His mouth slants, curving at one corner. He takes a swig of his drink. 

“Not really, doll,” he rests his chin in his hand. “But for you, I’ll try.” 

[odileeclipse]

A Wager of Fate PT 7

A/N I actually really liked writing this I hope y'all enjoyyyy!

Reminder not proof read, I tried my best to go through it but...

Your wings fluttered, slow and deliberate, as you drew in a breath. “What if…” You hesitated, fingers flexing at your sides. “What if you didn’t have to be a monster?” Shadow Milk chuckled, a familiar sound but this time, you weren’t so quick to let it unnerve you. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?” You shook your head, stepping forward, meeting the space where he lingered. “No. Before, I was asking you to change for the sake of everyone else. But what if…” You exhaled, voice softer now, weaving something gentler between your words. “What if you just changed for me?” Silence.It was different this time not the silence of an unreadable beast, but something heavier. Something considering. A slow hum curled through the air. “Oh? And what exactly are you proposing, dear little Faerie?” Your hands tightened, but your expression stayed composed. “You want freedom. I want… I want to believe there’s more to you than destruction.” You forced yourself to smile, small but warm. “So let’s both get what we want. Just the two of us.” Shadow Milk didn’t answer right away. Your heartbeat quickened. “You would have me leave them behind,” he murmured, voice unreadable. Your smile didn’t waver. “They’re not you.” Another beat of silence. He simply laughed. Low, rich, curling like silk around your senses. “Oh,” he sighed, almost delighted. “My little Faerie, you’re trying to deceive me.” You really weren’t but if that’s what he wanted to believe then so be it. Was persuasion deception? Your breath hitched, but you didn’t falter. Shadow Milk tsked, amusement bleeding into something more indulgent. “How very, very charming.” He knew of your poor persuasion. Of course, he knew. But he wasn’t rejecting it. Your wings twitched. “So?” you pressed, voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest. “Will you take my offer?” Shadow Milk hummed, as if pondering, but the warmth in his tone had shifted—something more intrigued, more interested. “…Now that,” he mused, “is a conversation worth having.”

Your wings fluttered as you took a steady breath. “What if I let you out?” Shadow Milk paused. The air around you shifted, his presence sharpening like the edge of a blade. “Oh?” he murmured, intrigued. You nodded, gripping your arms. “Just you. No one else.” A chuckle, warm and curling. “And here I thought you were still afraid of me.” You swallowed down your nerves. “I am.” Shadow Milk hummed, thoughtful. “Then why?” You forced yourself to meet where you felt him, standing firm. “Because if you leave, there won’t be a reason for the others to wake. I could fix this I could make sure they never rise.” Silence stretched between you, thick as fog. Then “Oh, my dear little Faerie,” Shadow Milk sighed, almost pitying. “You are lying to me.” Your stomach tightened. “I-” “You think I don’t see it?” His voice curled at the edges, both teasing and sharp. “You would let me go, only to shut the door behind me forever. You would free me, not as an act of kindness, but as a sacrifice.” Your fingers clenched against your arms. Shadow Milk only scoffed “How cruel,” he mused. “And here I thought you were better than that.” Your breath came shallow now. “Would you rather I not offer at all?” Another pause, then  “I’d rather you admit it.” You faltered. Shadow Milk leaned in though he was never truly there his voice a whisper against your ear. “You’d betray your kingdom to set me loose, only to seal the rest away forever. Do you think that makes you righteous?” Your wings stiffened. A slow, knowing hum. “Or does it make you just like me?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Shadow Milk chuckled, dark amusement curling in his tone. “Go on, little Faerie,” he purred. “Make your offer.”

Your wings trembled as you exhaled, steadying yourself against the weight of his words. “I’m not like you.” Shadow Milk made a soft sound, something between a hum and a chuckle, but he didn’t interrupt. You took the silence as permission to go on. “If I let you out only you then this can end. No one else has to suffer. The other Beasts can stay sealed, untouched, forgotten. You can have your freedom, and the world can still be safe.” He tilted his head at least, you thought he did. You felt the shift in the air, the quiet consideration. Then, his voice curled around you, playful yet unreadable. “And what of you, little Faerie?” You swallowed. “What?” “If I am free, and the others are not…” His voice dipped, slow and deliberate. “Then what happens to you?” Your fingers tightened against your arms. “That doesn’t matter.” Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. “Oh, but it does.” You shook your head. “I can make this right.” He laughed  “Right? Is that what you call this?” His voice dipped closer, slipping through the cracks in your resolve. “You’re bartering with a nightmare, little Faerie. Hoping to chain the shadows while you stand in the dark yourself.” Your breath hitched. He continued, amusement curling in every syllable. “Do you really think your kingdom would forgive you?” Your throat tightened. “Would she?” Your breath came unsteady now. “White Lily-”

 “She’ll know,” Shadow Milk murmured. “Even if she never sees it, she’ll feel it. The weight of what you’ve done. And Elder Faerie? Oh, I imagine he’ll feel it most of all.” You closed your eyes, wings curling close as if that would shield you from his words. But Shadow Milk was relentless. “So tell me, little Faerie,” he purred. “If no one will forgive you… and you already stand at the edge of betrayal… why not fall?” Your stomach twisted. His voice softened, coaxing, almost sweet. “Let me out. Let’s leave. Just us. Forget the kingdom, forget the seal. You don’t have to be the martyr they made you.” Your wings twitched at the way he said us. As if he meant it. As if you weren’t alone in this. You bit your lip. “That’s not-” “What you want?” Shadow Milk cut in, laughing softly. “Or what you think you should want?” You forced yourself to take a breath. “This is the only way to keep the world safe. I have to do this.” Shadow Milk hummed, thoughtful. Then, lighthearted as ever, he sighed. “Oh, little Faerie.” His voice curled with something almost affectionate. “If you must deceive someone… at least be good at it.” Your chest tightened. Your brows furrowed, the words catching in your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Shadow Milk giggled like he was in on some grand joke you weren’t privy to. “Oh, little Faerie,” he mused, voice rich with amusement. “You don’t even realize it, do you?” You swallowed, wings twitching against your back. “Realize what?” He exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You say you’re doing this to keep the world safe,” he began, “that this is the only way. And yet…” His voice curled at the edges, dipping softer, smoother. “You’re trying so hard to convince me.” Your breath hitched. “If you were truly so certain so righteous then why seek my approval?” he asked, amusement laced in his words. “Why do you care what I think?” Your fingers dug into your arms. “I don’t.” Another laugh gentle, knowing. “Liar.” You flinched at the word, your wings giving an involuntary tremor. Shadow Milk hummed. “You say you want to keep the Beasts sealed, that you only wish to set me free,” he continued, his voice curling around you like smoke. “But is that really the truth?” You opened your mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Because now that he had spoken it aloud now that he had named it you weren’t sure anymore. Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. “Even you don’t know the truth, do you?” You exhaled shakily. “I-” He laughed again, but this time it was lighter, teasing. “Careful, little Faerie,” he purred. “If you’re not careful, you might just deceive yourself.”

Your throat tightened. Your mind swirled with tangled thoughts, half-formed and unraveling before you could grasp them. Finally, you managed, barely above a whisper, "Then what is the truth?" Shadow Milk sighed, like a tutor humoring a particularly slow student. “Now that is the right question.” You stiffened, waiting, dreading his answer. “The truth,” he mused, “is that you don’t truly know what you want.” Your wings fluttered, but you said nothing. He continued, voice lilting, playful but precise. “You call this a duty, a responsibility, and yet here you are, offering me freedom like a gift wrapped in trembling hands. You say you fear me, but you seek my voice like a lullaby in the dark.” A quiet chuckle. “And the best part? You don’t even realize you’re doing it.” Your breath caught. He leaned closer though he was never there to begin with, you felt it. “So tell me, little Faerie, is the truth that you wish to stop me?” His voice dipped lower, like a secret. “Or is it that you wish you didn’t have to?” The words struck something deep, something you couldn’t name. You turned away, gaze locking onto the tree as if it could anchor you, as if it could give you the truth you suddenly weren’t sure you had. Shadow Milk laughed again, a lilting sound, neither cruel nor kind. “Ah, but don’t look so troubled,” he teased. “Isn’t it more fun this way? A riddle even you can’t solve?” You clenched your fists. “I do know what I want,” you insisted, but it sounded weak, uncertain. Shadow Milk only hummed. “Oh? Then tell me.” You opened your mouth. No words came.

A shiver ran down your spine as the weight of the moment settled over you. Your wings trembled, your breath shallow. You had fought, reasoned, pleaded and yet, the more you spoke, the more his words slithered through the cracks of your resolve, threading doubt where certainty had once been.

And now, here you stood, lips parted, heart pounding, hearing your own voice whisper, “Fine.”

Shadow Milk stilled. Then, slowly, a breathy chuckle slipped through the air, curling around you like smoke. “Fine?” he echoed, amused, savoring the word. Your hands clenched at your sides. “I’ll do it,” you said, forcing yourself to stand firm. “I’ll let you out.” For a moment, there was silence. Then—warm, delighted laughter, rich and ringing. “Ah, finally!” he sighed, a grin in his voice. “You see? That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” But your chest still felt tight, your pulse thrumming with unease. Hesitation clung to you like a second skin, and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped free. “And what about me?” His laughter quieted. “What about you?” You swallowed. “Once you’re free, once you have what you want, what happens to me?” You exhaled shakily, willing your voice to remain steady. “You… you won’t need me anymore. So what then? Am I discarded? Left behind? Do I-” “Oh, sweet little Faerie.” His voice was honeyed, coaxing, as though the very idea amused him. “You think I would ever let you go?” Your breath hitched. “You called to me. You chose me.” His voice softened, curling around you like a whisper of silk. “And I am nothing if not loyal to those who choose me.” A pause. Then, low and knowing, he added, “After all… you wouldn’t really want to be rid of me, now, would you?” Your fingers twitched. Your gaze darted toward the tree, searching for an answer in its ancient bark, in the rustling leaves, in the whisper of the seal you were about to break. Shadow Milk chuckled, slow and pleased. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

The moment your hand pressed against the tree, the air seemed to shudder.A crack of light, unnatural and wrong, split across the bark like a wound reopening.  The seal shattered, the earth beneath you trembled. Tears blurred your vision, streaking down your cheeks as you choked on a breath. This is wrong. You knew it. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to stop, to turn back, to undo what you had done. But your body moved as though possessed, as though something far greater than your own will was dragging you forward. A voice his voice was there, curling around your mind, urging you on with honeyed whispers. You’re almost there, little Faerie. Just a little more… Then, chaos.  The Silver Tree once a pillar of unwavering strength groaned, its ancient branches twisting as if recoiling from what had just transpired. A violent gust tore through the clearing, sending leaves and petals spiraling into the darkening sky. The once-gentle glow of the sacred grove flickered, dimming as the corruption took root. And then light. Blinding, searing, and unyielding. It erupted from the distance, cutting through the dense, trembling canopy. The unmistakable brilliance of magic their magic rushed toward you, carried by the sound of armor clattering against the forest floor. Then voices. Urgent. Stricken. Familiar. Your breath hitched, your body frozen in place as the clearing was flooded with their presence. White Lily Cookie was the first to arrive, her cape billowing as she skidded to a halt. Her expression soft and kind in every memory you held was twisted into something between shock and devastation. Her lips parted as though she wanted to call for you, to reach out. But the words never came.

Behind her, the Silver Knights burst into the clearing, weapons drawn, their silver-plated armor gleaming under the fractured light. Their stances were rigid, uncertain hesitating only because it was you standing there, not an enemy they had trained their entire lives to fight. And then, him. Elder Faerie Cookie emerged through the broken branches, his steps slower than the others, yet weighted with far greater burden. The glow of his magic flickered at his fingertips—restraint, control, hesitation. His face, usually composed with the wisdom of centuries, was stricken with something far worse than anger. Grief. His dark eyes, tired yet always carrying warmth, now held only sorrow as they met yours. His gaze did not waver. Not as he took in the ruined seal, the darkness coiling where it should not. Not as he saw the tears still fresh on your cheeks, the trembling in your hands. Not as the shape of Shadow Milk Cookie slithered into being, stepping forward from the tree’s base with a slow, unhurried grace. Still, Elder Faerie did not look away from you. “…You don’t understand what you’ve done.” His voice was quiet, yet it rang louder than any battle cry. You felt your throat tighten. Your wings curled in instinctively, a dull ache forming in your chest. You wanted to explain, to tell him it wasn’t-

Wasn’t what?

A mistake?

A betrayal?

Your lips parted, but no words came. Elder Faerie inhaled sharply, his expression contorting ever so slightly just for a moment. A glimpse of something deeper, something breaking. And yet, his voice remained steady. “I don’t want to use force against you,” he continued, the weight in his tone unshakable. “I won’t.” His hands clenched at his sides, his magic flickering in and out of existence. “You are” His voice caught. His breath trembled. Then, softer “You are my kin.” Your chest seized. Something cracked inside you at the way he said it like it hurt him to speak the words aloud. Behind him, the knights shifted, awaiting orders. White Lily Cookie took another hesitant step, her expression pleading. But none of them moved, watching as Elder Faerie stood at the center of it all, looking at you like you had just torn something precious from him.

Then, laughter. Slow, rich, and curling through the tension like a creeping shadow. Shadow Milk Cookie stepped forward, his grin a crescent moon against the dark. He swept his arms wide, his presence folding into the clearing like he had always belonged there. “Ah, what a performance,” he purred. His cyan and cerulean eyes gleamed, their slit pupils narrowing in satisfaction as he breathed in the broken seal’s remains. “The tension, the heartbreak… exquisite.” He hummed, tilting his head toward you ever so slightly. “And to think, you nearly hesitated.” Your stomach twisted. The Silver Knights raised their weapons. White Lily’s expression hardened. Elder Faerie’s magic pulsed at his fingertips. But none of them looked at you the way they once had. And the weight of that realization crushed you.

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, the weight of their stares pressing down on you like the gnarled branches overhead. The Silver Tree loomed in the background, its glow flickering as though it, too, recoiled from what had just been done. The sacred carvings once etched into its bark were splintered, unraveling like threads in a tapestry. A cold wind rushed through the clearing, scattering silver leaves across the damp earth, as if mourning what had been lost. You could only mouth the words, the apologies too fragile to break past your lips. Elder Faerie’s expression remained carved from sorrow, lined with something deeper than grief, something unspoken, something irreparable. His hands trembled at his sides, his magic pulsing unevenly, as if fighting against his own instincts. He had always been a pillar of certainty, of unwavering devotion. But now, as he looked at you, his faith his belief in you seemed to crumble like brittle parchment. The Silver Knights did not lower their weapons.

White Lily Cookie, usually so soft, so full of understanding, could not even meet your gaze. Her hands tightened around her staff, her lips parting as if to speak but no words came. No one reached for you. No one stepped forward to catch you as the realization struck. They won’t forgive me. The ache in your chest spread like vines, constricting, suffocating. You turned, desperate, searching grasping for anything, for anyone. And there he was. Shadow Milk Cookie stood at your side, untouched by the grief that choked the air. The storm of magic and steel did not concern him, nor did the sorrowful weight of those you had abandoned. He stood at ease, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding, his long, spindly frame stretched with an air of triumph. His cyan and cerulean eyes flicked toward you, glinting like glass caught in moonlight. His grin was ever-present, curling like smoke yet it lacked the sharp mockery you had come to expect. There was something else there now. Something watchful.

You searched his expression, hoping pleading for something. A sign that you had not just thrown yourself into the dark alone. “Shadow Milk,” you whispered, the name barely a breath, barely anything as you looked at him with wide, imploring eyes. Would he leave you too? Would he let you fall the moment he had what he wanted? Your fingers twitched at your sides, desperate to reach out, but you hesitated. You had no guarantee that his presence meant safety. That it meant belonging. And yet, he had to be better than the cold rejection waiting behind you. Didn’t he? Shadow Milk hummed, tilting his head as though considering you, your silent plea heavy in the space between you. Then, he moved. Not away. Not in mockery. He stepped closer. The cold of his presence brushed against your skin, curling around you in intangible tendrils, weaving through the air like a lingering promise. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter than before. Measured. Almost… gentle. “Now, now,” he murmured, his tone smooth as darkened silk. “Don’t tell me you regret it already.” You flinched, lips pressing together, shame curling tight in your stomach. His grin widened not cruelly, not cruel enough. His fingers ghosted near your shoulder, close but never touching. “You made your choice, little Faerie.” His voice dipped, coiling around you like a whisper of a song. “And I am not so unkind as to waste a gift.”

His heterochromatic gaze flickered, catching the dying light of the Silver Tree, and for the briefest of moments, something in them softened. “Come now,” he sighed, amused but not unkind. “If you must tremble, at least do so in the right arms.” His words wrapped around you, coaxing, offering, as if inviting you into the space he had carved beside him. And against all reason against the burning stares of those you had betrayed you wanted to. Just for him.

The moment shattered like brittle ice.

Elder Faerie Cookie let out a cry raw, grief-stricken, yet commanding, an order ringing through the clearing like the snap of a branch underfoot. “Now strike!” The Silver Knights lunged forward, their weapons glinting in the fractured glow of the tree, the wind howling as magic surged toward the intruder who had tainted this sacred place. White Lily Cookie gasped, stepping back in alarm, her fingers tightening around her staff as her lips formed silent protests, caught between duty and the horror of what was unfolding. The Silver Tree shuddered, its glow dimming further, a deep crack slithering up its bark like a festering wound. The air itself felt wrong off-balance as if the ancient power housed within was bleeding. Your heart clenched at the sound, at the sight at Elder Faerie’s expression, lined with sorrow, with the deep, unwavering hurt that cut deeper than any blade. You had seen him worn, weary from years of guardianship, but never like this. Never broken. And yet…

A weight lingered at your side, something warm despite its unnatural presence. Shadow Milk Cookie. He had not retreated, had not abandoned you the moment the battle had begun. He remained where he was, an unmoving pillar of shadow and silk, his stance almost lazy almost. His clawed fingers twitched at his sides, not in preparation to strike, but in thought, in restraint. He watched you, even as the Silver Knights bore down upon him, even as magic sparked through the air like embers in a dying fire. He grinned, not with sharp cruelty, but with something else something softer. “Oh, little Faerie,” he sighed, the words dripping with indulgent amusement. He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded as if humored by the very notion of this impending battle. “You look so tense.” The first blade swung. And missed. Shadow Milk moved like liquid shadow, slipping just out of reach, weaving between strikes with effortless grace. The Silver Knights struck again again flashes of silver and streaks of light filling the clearing. But he danced through it all, turning his evasion into a performance, his laughter light, teasing. “Is this any way to treat your guest?” he mused, flipping backward just as a blast of magic scorched the ground where he once stood. His coattails fluttered in the chaos, eyes glowing like twin stars in the growing darkness.

Your breath hitched. Despite the chaos, despite the battle, he was not afraid. And neither was he unkind. Amidst the storm of magic and steel, he still found the space, the patience, to turn to you. His voice dipped, curling around you like a whispered secret. “Don’t look so pained, dear one,” he murmured. “You’ve made your choice, haven’t you?” His eyes gleamed with something almost fond, almost sweet, like a cruel god offering comfort to his devoted. “And look at me I’m still here.” His voice curled, playful, coaxing. “You thought I’d run the moment my chains were broken?” A hum, a shake of his head. “You always find a way to wound me.” Your breath trembled, the ache in your chest twisting deeper. A part of you had thought that. That he would vanish like mist the moment he was free, leave you to the ruin you had wrought. But here he was, smiling down at you not with mockery, not with cruel amusement, but with something unbearably gentle. A Knight’s blade came too close, slicing through his shadowy form, but he did not falter. Instead, he sighed dramatically, swaying toward you as if seeking refuge. “Really, now this is all terribly unsportsmanlike. Did you really want me gone so soon after we were finally reunited?” Your heart twisted, confusion warring with something deeper, something warmer that you knew you should not allow yourself to feel.

He saw it. And he laughed. Not sharp, not cruel light, pleased, like a performer delighted by an audience’s reaction. “Ah, I see it now. You do care, don’t you?” He leaned closer, voice rich with delight. “What a relief. I was worried I might have to steal your heart properly.” Your pulse pounded against your ribs, breath catching. Elder Faerie’s voice cut through the storm of emotions, raw and desperate. “Step away from him!” Your hands trembled at your sides.

Shadow Milk, ever aware, caught the movement. His grin softened at the edges. “Come now, you’re shaking,” he purred, tilting his head. “Do you really want to stand among them, trembling like a caged bird?” A blade arced toward him once more. He swayed, sidestepping it with effortless grace, then extended a hand toward you. “Come.” His voice was honeyed, rich with promise. “Let’s make this something beautiful, shall we?” The air pulsed with magic, the tree’s glow flickering like a dying candle. Your heart ached. Elder Faerie’s expression was pleading, broken. The Silver Knights did not hesitate, did not waver. But Shadow Milk he was still here. Still offering. And you did not know whether the warmth in your chest was from fear, or from hope.

The battlefield slowed not in movement, but in weight, in intensity. The air was thick with the remnants of magic, the scent of earth scorched by stray spells, the flickering remnants of the Silver Tree’s glow casting long, stretching shadows across the clearing. The Silver Knights did not falter, their weapons held firm, their eyes locked onto Shadow Milk Cookie with unwavering resolve. Elder Faerie Cookie stood at the front, his expression carved from something heavier than stone, something far more fragile.

You stepped forward, your wings heavy with sorrow, your voice barely above a breath. “Please,” you whispered, reaching, pleading. “Let me speak with him.” Shadow Milk tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression. His fingers, once poised to weave the next illusion, relaxed at his sides. For all his teasing, for all his grand performances, he did not mock you now. There was no cruel amusement, no knowing smirk. Only quiet contemplation. Then, with a hum, he sighed. “Oh, little Faerie,” he mused, voice dipping into something almost affectionate. “You do ask for the strangest things.” A pause. Then, he waved a hand, lazy and indulgent. “Very well. Speak to him.” The battle did not resume. The Silver Knights shifted, uncertain, their weapons still drawn but unmoving. Elder Faerie’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, his grip on his staff tightening. “What trick is this?”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. “No trick,” you answered, voice raw, fragile. “Just a request.” His gaze flickered between you and Shadow Milk, searching, wary. “And he allows it?” Shadow Milk let out an exaggerated sigh. “Must you sound so doubtful? Really, I’m starting to feel unappreciated.” He gave a dramatic flourish of his hands, shadowy tendrils curling at his fingertips. “If it means so much to my dear little guardian, then yes, I shall be merciful.” His gaze flickered toward you again, something softer lurking beneath his ever-present performance. “Just this once.” The words were meant to be playful, but there was weight to them. And Elder Faerie must have sensed it, for his expression changed not to relief, not to trust, but to something deeper. Something wounded. You took a shaky step closer. The world around you felt stretched thin, as if holding its breath. The glow of the Silver Tree barely flickered now, its roots tremoring beneath the weight of its fractured seal. The leaves had dulled, once vibrant silver now faded like an aging memory. Elder Faerie’s voice, when he spoke again, was heavy with grief. “Why?”

Your breath hitched. You knew what he meant. Not just why you had asked for this moment. Not just why you had turned to the one thing you were meant to guard against. But why you had chosen this path at all. Your fingers trembled at your sides. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice cracking. “I-” You hesitated, looking down, shame curling deep in your chest. “I thought I could change something. I thought I could-” “Save him?” Elder Faerie’s voice was quiet, but it struck like a blade. You flinched. “Maybe,” you whispered. A silence settled between you, thick and suffocating. Elder Faerie let out a slow breath, his gaze flickering to the being at your side. “And what of the others?” His voice was lined with exhaustion. “The Beasts, the ones who were sealed away for a reason. Do you understand what you’ve done?” Your throat tightened. “I didn’t-I just-” A hand came to rest lightly on your shoulder. Shadow Milk. He leaned in slightly, his presence coiling around you like silk. “Now, now,” he murmured, voice honeyed. “You make it sound as though our dear Faerie has doomed you all.” He chuckled, the sound curling at the edges. “Have a little faith.” Elder Faerie’s eyes darkened. “Faith?”

Shadow Milk grinned, but there was something almost pleased about his expression. Not cruel, not mocking. Just satisfied. “I could have torn through your kingdom the moment I was free,” he mused, tracing idle patterns in the air, his shadows flickering against the dim light. “Could have left nothing but ruin in my wake.” His gaze flickered toward you, unreadable. “And yet, I did not.” A pause. Elder Faerie’s breath was unsteady. “You…” His brows furrowed, voice lowering. “Why?” Shadow Milk hummed, tilting his head. “Ah, now that is the question, isn’t it?” His fingers curled, magic shifting in the air like rippling water. “Shall I tell you, old one? Or shall I let you wonder, let you doubt?” His grin widened. “Oh, but you’re already doubting, aren’t you?” The air shimmered. Not with power. Not with violence. With uncertainty. It was not destruction that Shadow Milk wove into the kingdom. It was deceit. The Silver Knights stiffened as a wave of unease rippled through them, their confidence faltering. White Lily Cookie, who had remained silent, watching, suddenly stepped forward, her fingers tightening around her staff. “What are you doing?”

Shadow Milk’s gaze flickered to her, ever amused. “Simply honoring a request.” Your breath came short. He had listened. For all his cunning, for all his trickery, he had listened to you. No one had been harmed. No one had fallen. But the kingdom its certainty, its order that was what he had touched. Your heart ached, confusion swirling deep in your chest. Elder Faerie took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable. “And what do you gain from this?” Shadow Milk chuckled, gaze sliding back to you. His fingers trailed down your arm, light, barely there. “Why, isn’t it obvious?” His voice softened, yet it rang louder than anything else. “I’ve already won.” Your breath hitched. The Silver Tree stood behind you, cracked open, flickering weakly, but still standing. And yet, the world would never be the same again.

A/N I put a lot of effort into this so pls dont flop <3 /j

Let me get a hell yeah in the comments/j

[evilmenenjoyer]

Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs. 

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

[cuteandhughesy]

30 and sid pleaseeeeee

prompt no. 30: "you got me flowers?" "yeah? is that like..not a normal thing with guys your age?"

a/n: but if a time jump! sid is retired and coaching kids :)

you slide the silver dainty hoop into your ear, clasping it closed once it’s fully through. you repeat the process on the other side, smiling triumphantly as they glimmer in the light above your bathroom mirror.

you smooth down the front of your summer dress, feeling the soft material between your manicured fingers—it’s like buttermilk. you twirl around, checking over your look once more time.

it’s your third date with sidney crosby. you meet him at your little brothers hockey game, one that you had to take him too because both of your parents had to work. you didn’t even mean to run into him—sure, having the sidney crosby coach your brothers little league team was really cool, but you were never really into hockey, and you honestly didn’t care to meet him.

you were running a little bit behind that day, practically pushing your brother along so he’d stop with the damn sloth pace like he always does, when you ran right into him.

his jaw had ticked, starting down at you while your younger brother blinked between the two do you helplessly. the team is already on the ice, skating around to start their warmups. which means sidney was coming to look for your brother.

“i’m sorry,” you said, ushering your brother along to the direction of the change room. “we’re late. I didn’t even know what time the game started, and my parents didn’t tell me they needed james dropped off until 20 minutes before-��

your babbling was amusing to sidney, and if anything it made him feel a bit fond. yeah, he’d been angry that one of his players was so late that they were missing warm ups, and he was on his way to raise some havoc, but then you walked in. silky looking hair and puffer coat that reminded him of a baby penguin, ushering your brother along like you were both apart of a secret mission.

sidney found it endearing. “it’s okay,” he tells you, a half smile on his face. he tucks his clipboard under his arm and then extends his hand in your direction, “i’m sidney.”

you let out a sigh of relief, the smallest grin pulling at your face. you were fully prepared for the retired nhl phenomenon to team you out in front of everyone, so his softness, for lack of a better word, caught you by surprise. you take his hand delicately, “i’m y/n.”

you started taking your brother to james more often than not after meeting sidney, which your parents didn’t mind—work was keeping them busy enough without driving james around. your crush your on your brothers coach was pathetic, you knew that. he was older than you, too busy paying attention to a bunch of kids to even notice you staring at him helplessly in the stands.

but then he asked you for coffee.

and then after getting coffee together he asked if you were free for dinner that following friday.

and now you’re here, in your shitty apartment bathroom getting ready for an afternoon lunch with sidney crosby.

you decide that you don’t need anymore jewelry or extra makeup—what you’ve already got on will do. you flick off your bathroom light, rounding down the hallway to your bedroom. you cringe—it looks like a tornado blew through your room. multiple different clothing pieces strewn across the floor from only 20 minutes ago when you were frantically trying to find something to wear.

you just wanted to look appropriate and pretty and mature for your date.

god, sidney crosby has turned you into a melty mess and you haven’t even kissed the guy yet.

as you’re slipping on your shoes there’s a firm knock at your door—two to be exact. your body goes hot and a smile lights up your entire face. you practically skip out of your room and back down the hall, “coming!” you call softly.

when you open the front door sidney is wearing a lopsided grin, dressed in a light blue linen button up and khaki shorts. he looks like a yacht dilf. his salt and pepper hair glimmers in the sunshine, and the cologne he’s wearing makes your head feel dizzy. “hey,” sidney says, walking up the last step of your stoop.

“hey yourself,” you smile nervously, accepting the warm hug he offers you. it’s only then that you notice the bouquet of spring coloured flowers— daffodils, baby breath, and a few others you don’t recognize but are still stunning. you eye him shyly, reaching out to stroke along one of the petals, “you got me flowers?”

the way you ask him, so unsure but still filled with hope makes sidney falter. just for a moment. he passes you the bouquet, to which you raise to your face and smell them instantly. “yeah? is that like…not a normal thing for guys your age?”

you grin, a small bubble of laughter following. “no,” you say, rounding into your small kitchen and pulling an empty vase down from the top of your fridge. sidney watches as you move effortlessly, your dress swinging and hugging you in all the right places. he almost wants to shake his head in disbelief. you’re so stunning.

you fill up the glass vase with tap water and then place the flowers in, setting the arrangement on your counter with a soft smile. “I love them,” you say, skipping back over to where sidney is standing—which is now inside your entryway, leaning causally against the wall beside a picture frame. “thank you.”

your hands rest on his stomach, thumb stroking the linen top absentmindedly as you look up at him. sidney’s smile turns more soft, raising his hand to push your loose hair behind your ear. “of course.”

he doesn’t move his hand like you expect him too. sidney stays cradling the side of your head, and before you can react, he’s leaning down, pressing a firm closed mouth kiss to your lips. he pulls away after 5 seconds, and then leans back in for a quicker peck before completely pulling off you.

you blink in surprise, “we’ve never done that before.” you say dumbly.

“no,” sidney says, “we haven’t. is that okay?”

“definitely okay,” you mumble, pushing up to your toes and kissing him again.

—

(unedited)

[gold-onthe-inside]

with love, from reid

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after a case ruins spencer's carefully planned valentine's date, he does his best to make up for it. but all you needed was him. and all the gifts in the world are nothing compared to yours. word count: 3.3k based on: Valentine’s Day Request - Spencer and his partner are separated for Valentines Day (maybe he went to go visit his mom or he was on a special assignment like in Minimal Loss and a storm grounded flights) but he uses every method possible to give his partner the most amazing Valentines Day ever. a/n: i'm so sorry for sitting on this request forever, but inspiration struck today i guess. hope you like it anon.

Spencer’s not like other guys. It’s the mantra you have to keep using to keep your head on straight. But being cheated on by someone you had been about to marry changes your whole perspective on things. Makes it harder to trust, even the most angelic man you’ve ever met. You have to take a deep breath every time he gets a call from JJ or Penelope, have to remind yourself that there’s a valid reason for every missed date, every morning you wake up without him. Because it’s scary how much you like him, how often you think about him.

The scarce amount of time you both get makes the little moments more important, and he knows it. In his head, he’s been building it up, down to the cardigan he would wear on the 14th. He’s calculated the exact amount of time it takes to get from Quantico to your hospital, chosen a restaurant within walking distance — something right up your alley with exotic food and a quiet atmosphere. He knows how many footsteps it’ll take to get there, how many topics you can cover, all of it, down to miniscule details. The flower arrangements that would wait for you both. The menu he had memorised in his head, knowing exactly what you would order. The average time it would take for you both to finish eating while talking. The train back to his apartment, where your favourite movie would be waiting.

If only he could control this unsub the same way. But they were no closer to finding the unsub on the 13th as they were two days ago. He’d been putting off the call all day, staring at his phone until Alex had pointed it out, unravelling the first stitch of his sealed lips. The seam split and he told her everything — the date he’d planned, the flowers he’d bought in advance, the reservation that was waiting for you. He receives the pat on the knee he’d been expecting from Alex, the promise that you’d be understanding (who would know better than her, really?), and her stern voice telling him to call you.

You can hear the regret in his voice when he calls, the tired fatigue that makes you smile sympathetically. “Did you get home okay?” he asked, scuffing the back of his sneakers against the floor, standing right outside the precinct, stars glittering above him, much brighter in Tennessee than in DC. It’s a whole nother date on his bucket list — going star-gazing with you.

“Yeah, just now,” you replied, and he can see you in his mind’s eye, taking off your boots and neatly arranging them in your rack, keys in a clay dish that an 8 year old had made for you, the crick in your neck that he wants to massage for you. “How about you? Any closer to finding your strangler?”

“No,” he huffs, leaning against the railing. There’s a slight chill in the air, but he can’t feel it, not right now. He just wants to hear your voice. “But that’s not important — I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

You huffed a small laugh, and he can hear you bustling around over the call, maybe changing into your pyjamas, or hunting for ingredients to make a quick dinner for one, and a frustrated ache builds behind his eyes. He wants to be there, with you, listening to old jazz music and making dinner and small talk. “I think I’m in less danger than the FBI agent hunting down a serial killer, honey.”

“You’re always in less danger than I am,” he grumbles, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lip. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and picturing the dimly lit kitchen in your apartment, the scent of spices and the warmth of old vinyl records. “I miss you,” he confesses in a soft, almost broken tone.

He hears you pause, a palpable beat passing before you murmured, “I miss you too.”

“I wish I could be there,” he says. He wants to run a hand down your back, trace his knuckles over your cheek to feel the softness of your skin. “I had a whole night planned for us tonight.”

"I know, lovely," you murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter, phone pressed to your ear. "There'll be other nights."

He sighs. He hates having to cancel on you, especially now, when they’re already so rare. “Not like this one,” he mutters, and he knows you can probably tell by his tone that he’s pouting like a child.

“Why, because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you asked, talking while making a quick pasta.

He’s quiet for a second. Then — “Yes,” he admits in a near-whine. “It was going to be a special night.”

"Spence... Every day is Valentine's Day with you," you said, knowing exactly how cheesy you sound and running with it anyway.

Spencer’s just grateful you can’t see his face right now, because he knows he’s blushing a little, that he has an adorably smitten smile on his lips and he’s sure it would only embarrass him if you could see. “Sap,” he accuses lovingly.

"Said the man who collects ticket stubs of every movie we see," you retorted, grinning into the phone.

He sputters. “That’s — that’s — you’re not supposed to know about those,” he complained. “I keep those for myself, they’re a private collection for a reason.“

“Wow, what happened to what’s yours is mine?” you teased him, watching the pasta boil, and Christ, you felt like a lovestruck teenager right now, like those sickly sweet couples in Hallmark movies.

“That’s — there’s exceptions to that rule,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you dare touch those. I’ve sorted them in chronological order, by the way — if one is out of place, I’ll know it was you messing around, looking over my things.”

You laughed into the phone, bright even with how tired you felt, because he brought it out of you, a glowing feeling in your chest that made the ache in your feet hurt a little less. It’s a sound that never fails to make his heart skip — the softest, most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. “I wish I was there,” he says again, his voice suddenly quiet and heavy with want.

"I know," you said quietly, watching the water grow cloudy as your pasta cooks. "But those women need you more than I do right now, Spence."

“Stop using logic on me,” he says, only half-joking, his expression serious even though you can’t see it. “I want to be selfish with you tonight.”

"Sweetheart, you don't have a selfish bone in your body," you replied affectionately.

“It’s not fair,” he complains, still playing the part of the pouting child in his mind, just whining and grumpy because he wants to be with you. “I was going to give you flowers, and take you out to dinner, and I was going to drive you home and kiss you so much—”

"We can still do that," you said, cutting him off before he could fill your head with ideas and then you could say goodbye to sleeping peacefully tonight.

“Not tomorrow,” he says. He’s almost definitely pouting right now, staring down at the pavement, his eyes dark under his lashes. “And it’s only Valentine’s once a year, I wanted it to be perfect.”

You fretted as you turned the gas off, putting off straining the pasta as you turned into the phone. “Why’s this so important to you, angel?” you asked softly.

It’s one of the things he loves about you — the gentleness with which you handle him, the way you ooze with care and curiosity instead of coddling concern. “This is our first Valentine’s,” he replies, slightly petulant. “And I wanted it to be good. Something you could look back on. I had it all planned out.”

Christ, you could cry with how much Spencer cared about you. You couldn’t remember anyone, boyfriend or not, who loved you this much. “You know it would’ve been perfect, regardless, right?” you asked gently. “You and me, that’s all I need. Even if it’s over a phone line.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just listening to you speak. “You deserve the best,” he says eventually. “You deserve flowers. And an elegant restaurant. And a movie. And a home cooked meal.” And me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Not a phone call and the knowledge that your boyfriend is across the country.”

"Sweetheart, I get all of that from you even when it isn't Valentine's," you said, in that same gentle tone. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were here when you could be catching a killer."

“Why do you have to be reasonable?” Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face again because you’re being entirely too logical for him to fight with right now. “That’s not fair.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms and leaning on the counter. "We'll have a make-up date, I promise," you said. "Just how you planned it."

That seems to pacify him a little bit, because he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay,” he agrees, slightly begrudgingly. “But I’m in charge of planning. You don’t get a say in the matter.”

You fake a tsk, as if planning mattered at all to you. "Fine. Whatever you decide."

That makes a soft, contented sound form in his throat — one bordering on possessive. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and you can all but envision the smirk on his lips.

"Go find your killer," you chided him, grinning stupidly, but there's no bite in it.

He lets out an amused huff. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, before his tone softens again. “I miss you. I’ll try to come home as soon as I can, okay?”

"Okay," you replied. "Stay safe, please."

“I will,” he promises, because he knows how much the thought of him getting hurt scares you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You snorted quietly, like it was possibly to not worry about him on cases. "Bye."

“Bye,” he responds quietly, and he wishes he could kiss you goodbye, trace the line of your lips with his fingers and feel the pulse in your neck against his fingers. “Sweet dreams.”

"You too," you whispered before hanging up. Spencer stands there for another moment after the call ends, his phone still in his hand and his heart heavy, and he wonders if it’s possible for someone to actually ache from missing someone this much.

And then Morgan’s calling him inside with his newly minted nickname since dating you — ‘lover boy’ — to adjust the geographic profile and he’s unwillingly dragged back into the vortex that is his job. And he has to shove any thoughts of you to the back of his mind for the time being, the lingering ache at the edge of his chest a constant, nagging thing that he has to continuously push past to focus on the case.

The whole team is working hard to try and solve this, but progress is slow. Somewhere between analysing blood spatter patterns and doing his own research to figure out their unsub’s deal, he does his best to plan your make-up date, paranoid that someone would see him looking for places to take you and make his day worse. Eventually, tired of having to look over his shoulder, he bites the bullet and calls Garcia for help, even if it would no doubt get back to Morgan and the rest of the team.

And then he has to deal with Garcia’s excited squealing, her incessant questions about you both, her comments about how cute he is and how she needs to meet you. He keeps his head down and grits his teeth, because he knows she means no harm, and it’s a small price to suffer through just to have this night be perfect.

The first thing to arrive was a bouquet of tulips with your morning paper waiting outside your door, a pretty arrangement of red and pink that matched the outfit you were going to wear to work — the whole department had agreed to come in red, white, and pink colours — and you can’t stop smiling as you go to put in a vase with water.

He gets the picture texted to him in the middle of a briefing with Hotch and the team, barely able to restrain his smile as he checked his phone under the table.

You: They’re beautiful, thank you.

He’s oblivious to Morgan giving him an odd look as he texted you back:

Spencer: Only the best for the most beautiful girl in the world.

Spencer tucks his phone back into his pocket when the meeting ends, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Morgan. He knows he’s going to get bombarded with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, and for once he’s glad they have a case to work on so he can use that as an excuse not to interact with him.

The second arrival was a package sent to your office, because of course he had your shift schedule memorised, and you signed for it, grasping the brown paper package that was obviously a book back to your desk. There’s no reason for you to hide it, not in the sanctity of your own office, but it’s as if you’re back in school, your crush sending you a note that you unfurl under your desk, finding a hardbound copy of Persuasion, arguably your favourite Austen novel.

You do your best not to blush, picking up your phone to text him, chewing on your lip before flipping to the right chapter and sending him a direct quote.

You: There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

Spencer’s in the middle of examining a body when you sent him the text. But as soon as he feels his phone vibrate, he pulls it out without a second thought, uncaring of the fact that Morgan and Rossi are looking his way. He has to hold back a smile because no, he won’t give Morgan any ammunition.

Spencer: You have my whole heart.

“You two are sickening, I hope you know that,” Morgan told him, a smirk on his lips.

Spencer’s head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his voice, and he quickly drops his phone in his pocket, face flushing. He’s silent for a minute, trying to regain his composure and come up with something to defend himself. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied weakly.

"Uh-huh," Rossi replied, masking a smile. "Can we look at the body now, or does your girlfriend have more input?" He wouldn’t be surprised if you did, to be honest, but he’d rather keep you out of this part of his world. He just shook his head, stepping closer to the slab.

Your last gift came in just as Valentine’s Day was about to come to an end, Spencer silently tracking into your apartment, 5 minutes away from midnight, cringing as he opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. You’re asleep, your breathing soft and deep, the soft, soothing sound filling the room. He kneels by your side of the bed for a moment, just looking at you: all loose-limbed and relaxed, your face soft and sweet against the pillow. He can’t help the little smile that tugs the corner of his mouth up, and he wonders how he got so lucky. Softly, he reaches out, fingertips gentle as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You flinched, startled awake, until you recognise Spencer's eyes blinking back at you. "Jesus Christ, you scared me," you breathed out. "You should have told me you were coming."

“I was trying to be quiet,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only you would hear. His hand brushed the curve of your jaw, a soft, almost reverent motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sink back into your pillows, shifting inside so he can sit on the edge. "I would have waited up for you if you'd called first," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hip right against your knee, his fingers still trailing along your face, then resting on your thigh over the covers. “I tried to get home earlier,” he said, and he sounded exhausted, the stress of the case weighing on him. “But the team was debating something. And then paperwork...”

"You don't have to explain," you said softly, shaking your head, making a mess of your hair.

He watches you, his gaze lingering on the mussed locks on your head, the sleepy bleariness to your eyes, the pinkness to your cheeks, and he feels a surge of longing so strong it borders on painful for a moment. He loves you like this — soft and sweet and rumpled with sleep, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to you right here and now. “I hate being away from you for so long,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

"Should've caught your guy faster then," you said, shifting up to meet his lips with yours. "Happy Valentine's."

He returned your kiss, his fingers trailing up to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Happy Valentine’s,” he murmured against your lips, before he was kissing you again, harder this time, and you could tell he was tired by the urgency with which he held onto you.

"I realised something when you were away, you know," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at you, his fingers still trailing along the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying your face with those sharp, intelligent eyes of his.

You nodded, looking at him with your own fond gaze. "I love you," you said softly. Plain and uncomplicated.

He had heard those words plenty of times in his life, but he’d never tire of hearing them from your lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he moved his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Say it again?” he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, your smile glowing in the dark, streetlights dancing over your ceiling.

He felt something in his chest settle at the words, at the reassurance that you really were here, and you were his. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your nose, the. corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “God, I love you so much.”

Your arms winded around him, his face burying itself in your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist. His hands slipped up under your sleep shirt, his touch warm and soft against your back, and he practically sunk into you, needing the closeness, needing to be surrounded by you.

"I know the day didn't go to plan," you murmured, "but this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like he couldn’t get enough of having you pressed against him, and he pulled his head back from your neck so he could look at you properly. “Me too,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, the whole day was hell, but this… this is perfect.”

"Yeah?" you asked, pecking his lips.

He chased your mouth, kissing you again, lingering on your lips for longer. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “Being with you is all I need.”

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 10)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Warning: strong language

Wordcount: 8.5k

Author's note: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Give me your thoughts. I love you all !

P.S : I'm sorry for any mistakes. English is not my first language!

Y/n wasn't always insecure about herself. Early in life she was a lively, extroverted and free spirit person, but life is unfair and unpredictable. Having the trauma of seeing her father abandon her and her mother for another woman, saying she was the reason why he stopped loving and caring for her mom, left something inside her that it was never possible to mend no matter how hard she tried, making her more focused on studies and goals than boys and dating while growing up. For her, love was an illusion and she wouldn’t make the same mistake as her mother. 

Thinking about it now as she heads inside the apartment she shares with Lisa, she never gave anyone an opportunity, but as soon as she saw Jungkook she was drawn to him immediately without any explanation for it. Independence was her thing and she never thought she’d be capable of feeling the way she feels about him right now. Even if that meant that her friendship with Sewoon had to end. 

Looking back she knows Sewoon was never a good friend to her and she deserves better. Despite knowing their personalities were completely different from each other, Y/n accepted her anyway. After all, Sewoon had been her first friend, the first person to defend her when necessary and for that she was truly thankful for her. She also knew a little about her past and even though their priorities were different, they understood each other like that.  

Sewoon wanted to live life, have fun, go out, drink. Everything a teenager is supposed to do. She lost her virginity at 16 to a boy three years older than her who she met at a party. At the time Y/n asked her how was she able to do something so intimate with someone she had only known for a short time. Her best friend replied no one cared about that anymore. Truth to be told, after that she changed. A lot. Maybe that was when they started to drift apart a little bit. Y/n didn't like this change, not when she tried to do the same to her. Sewoon would share her experience regarding sex, how she did it, what she did and how good it felt. She was sexually active and made sure everyone knew about it, bothering Y/n. It was a subject that she didn't feel confident or comfortable talking about, however Sewoon pressured her to go the same path as her and that pissed Y/n off, but she would let it slide.

Maybe that was the main problem, letting it slide too muc. She never thought they would get to the point they are at today and that's sad. Now, Y/n was envious of all the experience she had acquired over the years, because with Jungkook it worked. He was so enthralled by Sewoon's beauty and comfort around guys, not to mention the way she won over boys, the subtle way of touching and talking to them when she tried to conquer them. Honestly, she admired the way she could make people who weren't interested in her focueds on her so quickly. Y/n knew she would never reach her feet in that way.  

Everything that happened today with Jungkook was just one more thing to confuse her. What if she was imagining things? As far as she knows he could flirt like this with everyone else. What if he thought she was easy just because she had feelings for him and he was in need of more than she could give him? She has known him long enough to know he wasn’t part like this but still... One never really knows someone, right? Sewoon is living proof of this.  

Walking in her room, Y/n went to change clothes and do her skin care, she had cried so much during the day that her eyes were swollen. She washed her face with cold water and dried it and putting a facial mask on. It was a very cold night but the moonlight helped to alleviate the darkness outside and she took advantage of being alone to go to the living room with her favourite book in hand, sitting in a chair next to the fireplace. The Y/n from a few days ago would be unable to tell Jungkook how she felt, yet both yesterday and today she had already confessed twice and had even confronted Sewoon. She never thought she would be able to raise her voice the way she did.

She somehow feels that Jungkook came into her life to break down all these walls around her heart with his sweet gaze and magnetic smile. She fell in love with him, but didn't have the courage to admit it (to him or herself), which ended up in her best friend dating him and yet she continued to desire him. Damn, she was so happy to know they had broken up, so she could rekindle her friendship with him and although knowing this was not something a good friend would do, at that moment Y/n doesn’t regret staying close to Jungkook, otherwise the moment they shared today wouldn't have happened at all. For that she also has Lisa to thank. God, she was very upset with her, but she ended up opening a path she never thought she would have with him. 

Suddenly, she heard the main door open, announcing Lisa's arrival. Lisa hadn't even noticed her since when she arrived it was all dark. When Lisa heard a voice calling her in the distance she screamed and now it was Y/n's turn to laugh. Lisa put her hands to her chest and threw her keys at her in protest. 

“You really scared the shit out of me Y/n. What the fuck are you doing with every light turned off? Are you a vampire and I didn’t notice it?” Lisa throws herself on the couch “Huuuuufff finally home! I've never had a day as long as this one. Meetings after meetings, just boring shit. How was your day? Was it a nightmare or a cool one?” Y/n gave a half smile  

"Initially it was shitty, but it ended pretty well" Lisa raised her head and made a suspicious face.  

“That means something did happen. Oh my god, is it Jungkook related?” 

“Yes and no” Lisa was confused. “Last night before going to sleep I sent a text to Sewoon, trying to talk to her about the things I found out on that trip regarding Tae, but she didn't give me an answer so I didn't think much about it anymore. Today, it was almost time for my break when I saw her come in. I told Sana that I was going outside and would be right back, but the conversation didn't go as I expected. She was horrible Lisa, she said tons of shit that affected me a lot. I never met this person before. I saw a person I didn't know existed.” 

“What did she tell you?” Lisa whispered and Y/n lowered her head, sighing. 

“She basically said that she was happy I had disappeared without telling anyone, that the only bad thing was that Jungkook was constantly wanting to know my whereabouts and not even with the pictures she showed him did he calm down. Ohh and that she prayed for news to arrive that something bad had happened to me. She also mentioned that I had stolen Tae from her and that she’d do everything to be with Jungkook, especially since they had already been together a few times, so she had no doubt that he would choose her over me. A bunch of shit.” 

“SHE SAID WHAT? God that girl needs a punch to bring her back to reality I swear the next time I see her I’m gonna end her. Who does she think she is f--” Y/n interrupted her  

“It’s okay Lisa. Actually, I need to thank her. After that, I was so upset that Sana told me to leave, I needed to clear my head and you were working so I decided to take a walk. Somehow, I ended up in front of Jungkook's workplace, he ended up seeing me and went after me and insisted on bringing me home, however, I told him I had to make a stop by La Dolce Perla and we ended up having dinner there. Although things were VERY tense at the beginning, by the end of the night I ended up letting some things out and he didn't judge me or anything, quite the opposite, he kept me calm and respected me. There was something in the air you know? Something that was pulling us closer to each other. We almost kissed” Lisa squealed in excitement but then stopped and made a funny face. 

“So why didn't you?” 

“I - I don’t know... I guess he noticed how nervous I was. We were saying goodbye and then he told me he’d wait for me. I don’t know what kind of waiting was he referring to but somehow that gave me comfort, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing, I mean it gives me hope for a future for us but with Sewoon in the picture I--” 

“Why don’t you talk to him about Sewoon? A real and open conversation where both of you get all the answers to your questions. You guys have a lot of connection, don’t miss that over misunderstandings.” Lisa said while hugging Y/n, excusing herself to get ready for bed. She had a very busy day in her company and she was wrecked. Y/n was tired too, so she went to her bedroom, did her routine and fell asleep, or at least she tried to. 

On the next day Sana wouldn’t be there so she’d be with the new guy. She never got to make a full shift with him and she was curious to see how it’d go. By the time her alarm went off Y/n was wide awake and ready to star her day. She had the weirdest yet the best dream ever. It was about Jungkook and she was enjoying it so much that when she woke up she cursed her neighbor for making so much noise at 08:15 a.m.  

She was going to make a double shift. She hated when her boss asked her favors like these but she really needed the money, that’s what kept her going. Getting there she saw Namjoon cleaning tables. Sana wouldn’t stop gushing over him, how cute he looked or how mature he was for someone his age. Even though Sana didn't have the courage to admit her feelings for him (yet, according to her) there was a palpable chemistry between them. The few moments that Y/n witnessed, made her think about her example, how much she thought she and Jungkook understood each other until Sewoon appeared. The day was passing by very peacefully. Right now there were only two customers so she and Namjoon took the opportunity to get some things done earlier. While at it, they got to know each other better and when they finished what they were doing, they ended up engaging in a deep conversation.

Okay, she had to agree with Sana, he had a great view on life and knew a lot for a 20-year-old. They were so absorbed in their conversation they didn't even notice the arrival of a new customer. Hearing the chirping of a throat in order to draw the attention of the two of them, Y/n was surprised to see Jungkook there with a look she couldn’t describe. Namjoon must have felt the weight of Jungkook’s eyes on him because he used some lame excuse to get out of there as soon as possible, leaving her alone with him.

“Jungkook, hi! I – I wasn't expecting to see you here at this time of the day. Usually you come a little later... Is everything okay?” Jungkook took a whole minute to respond, glancing between her and the door Namjoon had «escaped»

“Yes, everything’s fine. I hmmm- I was around and I-- I know it's almost your lunch time so I passed by to see if you wanted to have lunch with me.” He looks at Namjoon when he sees him walking out with some boxes. “But if you’re busy yo-” 

“Imnotbusyatall” she answered so quickly Jungkook didn’t understand a thing so she had to repeat herself, calmer this time. “Sorry. I meant to say I’m not busy. I have two hours for lunch since I'm working double shifts today. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so... early. I mean, for someone who usually shows up around 9pm, it's quite surprising” She smiled, turning her attention to the door, only to see Namjoon walk in again looking at her and Jungkook. He gave her a thumbs up, she flipped him off surreptitiously. Jungkook, on the other hand, was paying attention to all these actions. He's never seen this guy before, maybe he didn’t pay much attention to him. They seemed to have hit off pretty nice and for some reason he didn't like that at all. 

“I finished the morning session earlier than expected so I Ieft early as well. It's 10 minutes to 1 pm, can I stay here waiting for you or do you think you’ll have problems with that guy?”  

“With Namjoon? Naah, he’s cool. I'll just tell him to come replace me so I can change clothes and we can go. I’ll be right back.” As said, Y/n went to warn Namjoon and went towards the locker room. She left after 5 minutes, seeing Jungkook waiting for her near the exit. Weird, he usually used to wait for her at the counter where she and Sana usually stay, where Namjoon currently is as well.  

“Why are you waiting here? It’s not your normal spot you know? Joon won’t bite you for standing there” Y/n said laughing while approaching Jungkook. Seeing her, he adjusted his coat and smiled, opened the door motioning for her to go through it first, leaving behind her.

“I didn't like him, that's all, so I preferred to wait here. Besides, I didn't want to cause trouble. "

"Why would you cause trouble? It's not like this is the first time you've come in here or waited for me to leave. And what do you mean you didn't like him? Do you know each other by any chance? Where's the Jungkook who says we shouldn't judge a book by it's cover?” Y/n was teasing him and he knew it, answering with a little shut up. About five minutes away down the road there was a small burger place. It wasn't the first time they went there to eat, she loved the burgers there and the space was heaven. When they sat down, the waiter took their order and went to get their drinks, returning two minutes later. They both said thank you, giving some sips on their coca cola’s. Jungkook broke off the silence first.

“So..you and the new guy seemed pretty close. Cool guy hm?”  

“His name is Namjoon and yes we got along quite well. You wanna know a fun fact? it was our first day working together officially. He started when I was on vacation and he’s been doing more day shifts with Sana. But yeah, he’s pretty nice. I was surprised, he’s younger than us but he’s pretty mature for his age and he made me laugh a lot today. It made my double shift a lot easier.” 

“Ohhh”. Jungkook gave a few sips on his drink. “Glad it only took him a few minutes for you to be able to feel comfortable with him. It took me ages for you to look at my face. No one would tell it was your first time working together. You must have really liked him” Was he jealous?

“There’s nothing going on between us if that’s what you’re trying to know.” Jungkook chocked on his drink and tried to look everywhere but her. “We made a great team today but that’s it. He’s not my type. Besides, Sana has a crush on him. I’d never do that to a friend of mine”. Jungkook understood the hint. When he was about so speak, the waiter came with their orders. He waited for him to leave again so he could say what he wanted. 

“I’m sorry” Y/n frowned. 

“Sorry? What for?”

"It was bad of me to come between you and Sewoon. It's a long story and I have to tell you all about it, but at the same time I want to respect your space and time. I should have talked to you as soon as I realized something was going on, but I was confused and--”  Y/n interrupted him.

“Were you happy? While you were with Sewoon I mean. Did she make you feel happy?” For the first time Jungkook didn't know what to answer because he genuinely didn't know. Looking back, he knows he was never in love with her, it was just a momentary thing. He realized this too late and now he’s paying for it. Y/n noticed his discomfort so she changed the subject. “This place is without a doubt the one with the best burgers. This is my second favorite place, I really enjoy coming here and this is sooooo good or maybe it's just me being so hungry.” She said, laughing at her own words. Jungkook laughed too. One of the things he never felt with Sewoon: lightness and tranquility. With her, everything was always a competition and based on image. Very controlled, very fake, very rehearsed.

During their meal, they talked about basic things related to life, work and dreams, ordered dessert and drank coffee. Jungkook paid their meals and even though Y/n refused he didn't listen, telling her to pay next time. When they got outside, Jungkook took out a cigarette and stayed like that, grabbing it. Y/n looked at him with a questioning face. 

"How come I didn’t know you smoked? I mean every time we went out I never noticed. I was so surprised to see you smoking the other day” 

"And you said you hadn't noticed me." He said laughing. "I don't smoke much, usually after coffee or when I'm nervous/anxious. I've always tried not to smoke around you because I know you don't like the smell, so I avoid it." 

"Is that why you haven't lit your cigarette yet?" Jungkook looked at the hand that had the cigarette between his fingers. "Maybe" he said wrinkling his nose, looking at her with those sweet bambi eyes. God help her because she can't stay away from this man much longer. During their way back to her work she expected him to light the cigarette, but at no point did he do so. She even told him that if he needed to smoke to do it, that she didn't have to be an obstacle simply because she didn't like it, to which he replied that there were priorities and at that moment smoking wasn't one of them. She didn't say anything back but Jungkook noticed the blush on her cheeks and the shy smile on her face.  

“I wasn’t happy” Y/n looked at him wondering what he meant by that. He keeps talking. “You asked me if I was happy with Sewoon and my answer is no. Everything was a facade between us and now I can see how dumb I was to call it love. There were no feelings between us, only physical attraction and illusions. I know I messed up bad by getting together with her Y/n and I wish I could take it back. Even though I didn’t know your feelings for me but it was wrong and you have no idea how bad I feel for hurting you, even without meaning to. I’m truly deeply sorry.” Y/n felt so bad for him. It was a mix of emotions and she just wanted to comfort him so she stopped walking, grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her, hugging him tight, whispering

"You're not to blame for anything. If anything I'm to blame because I was the one who didn't speak up." He moved away a little, although they were very close. "We don't control our feelings. It's not your fault that I fell in love with you just as it's not your fault that you felt something for Sewoon, just as I don't blame her for having something with you even though she knew about my feel--” She stopped talking when she saw his shocked face. His face changed drastically when she said Sewoon knew about her feelings, he was angry and you could see it. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“Sewoon knew? She knew and you still insisted on pushing her to me?!” He was mad. 

“What was I supposed to do? You’re my best friend and I was afraid of ruining it with you, then you wanted to meet her and I just couldn’t say no. I knew you two were perfect for each other. I- I didn’t want to be selfish- I -” 

“FOR ONCE Y/n. Just for once you should’ve been selfish! Do you have any idea of how hard this has been for me? just to know that you were the one who gave me to her just like that? Was I not enough for you, was that it?” 

“Jungkook, no... Wh- What are you saying? I was the one that wasn’t enough for YOU. That’s why I introduced you to her.” At this point Jungkook had already moved away quite a bit, running his hands through his hair.  

“You were more than enough Y/n. You just didn't bother to face what was in front of you. Why do you want everything to be given to you? Is it really that hard for you to take control of your life for once? You would’ve avoided so many things Y/n. But you know what? I'm glad it was this way, maybe you and I weren't meant to be after all and we’re just realizing this now.” He sighed. “C’mon, I need to go and you have to go work as well. 

The last minutes felt like hours. Y/n hadn't realized how things had gotten to that point, it wasn't possible to understand. She thought it was unfair that he was blaming her for not opening up, even though he was upset, but even so. When they arrived Y/n grabbed his arm once more. 

“Jungkook, you can’t leave like this. You can’t drive being all raged up right now. Talk to me, please. I know I should’ve been more honest about things but I was scared and- and it’s not like you gave me any signs of any feelings either. I wanted you to be happy desp-” he released himself from her grip.

“I did gave you signs Y/n! I fucking did!That's why I'm so messed up. I - The only reason why I approached Sewoon in the first place was to have a reaction from you and to know things I knew I couldn't ask you directly.” It was Y/n’s turn to be shocked. What? “I know you avoid relationships and everything related to boys because you’re scared. If I told you how I felt or what I wanted I was scared you'd run away from me like you always do so I kept giving you signs Y/n but I had no reaction from you at all. I knew who Sewoon was from some pictures on your Instagram so when I challenged you to introduce me to her I was testing waters, however, your indifference remained there. It's not just my fault. I took you on dates and you would dismiss it, saying it was just two best friends hanging out. I left work every day and waited for you every day. In my free time I would come here to keep you company and be close to you while I sketch things that I could easily do at home. I have a cafe in front of my store and yet I’m- Always- Here- You can't be that oblivious Y/n. You were the one to put a label on us every goddamn time! You say you’re in love with me? No Y/n you’re not, otherwise you wouldn’t have given up so damn fast and give me to your best friend like a damn trophy the moment she asked. Hurts to know that I didn't deserve a second thought.” Y/n could only look at him. He looked so damn honest and he was so disappointed in her. There was hurt all over his face and that was killing her. She wanted to say something but she couldn’t so she did what she always does: let him go. 

She shouldn't have let him go. The rest of the day was fulfilled with anxiety and guilt. Every day she discovered new things and every time she thought her and Jungkook were stepping forward, they took five steps back. She was ruining everything good she had ever dreamed of with her cowardice and lack of communication. She should've gone after him, yet pride got the best of her.

Like always. 

After the argument he got in the car and left. At first she tried not to think about it too much, but then she felt the guilt consume her. When she was alone with just a few clients, she sent several texts to Jungkook, apologizing for the way things happened, for them to talk and clear things up once and for all.

No response.

Lisa was going to spend the night out, so once again she found herself alone in that giant apartment. Without thinking she called Jungkook, going straight to voicemail all the six times she tried. The only positive thing was that the next day it'd be her day off and she’d try to talk to Jungkook and clear things up.

Hopefully

The next day Y/n woke up with a huge weight beside her bed. When she opened her eyes she saw Lisa looking at her with a smile from ear to ear.

"Good morning, sunshine. I'm going to do something crazy and I want you to come with me. Hurry up, get even more pretty and let's go. If I’m late and loose my turn I'm going to kill you.”  

That's what consisted being friends with Lisa: waiting for her to wake her up at 9:30 in the morning for something that had popped into her mind out of pure spontaneity was just an example of it. She was adventurous and left nothing undone or unsaid because, according to her, you only live once and she would rather regret what she didn't do than everything she tried and failed at.

That's how at 10 in the morning Y/n found herself in front of the tattoo shop where Jungkook works. The only thing she wanted to do was turn around and leave. Gosh, he's been ignoring her attempts to contact him, how could she just walk in there like nothing was happening? She remembers talking to Lisa about getting tattoos. She never had courage for it, besides, Sewoon would tell her all the time they wouldn't suit her, thus she gave up of the idea. Lisa encouraged her, saying that when she did hers Y/n would do it too, but now, her stomach was churning and it seemed like the only thing that was going to come out was vomit. When they arrived at the entrance Y/n stopped. 

“I can’t go in with you. I’m sorry” 

“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t leave me alone at it. Also, I booked you a session so you have to show up.” Lisa said innocently.  

“You knew Jungkook works here, didn't you? You little bi--” 

“Hey hey hey. There’s no time for that my friend. We're about to get hotter and have something marked on us. Let’s go.” She was fucked.   Lisa linked her arm with her and they walked inside. It was a very peaceful place, with drawings on display, music playing and a diffuser. Of course. Jungkook was addicted to smells and very weird about them too.

The first person they saw was the red-haired lady Y/n had seen close to Jungkook the other day. Seen up close, she was even more stunning. Since Lisa was the one scheduling the session, the red-haired who introduced herself as Athena went to talk to Lisa to see what was she interested in. As she talked to her about the type of tattoo she wanted, presenting some sketches too for her to choose, Y/n looked around, praying she wouldn't see Jungkook while being there. 

“What about you? What kind of design did you think of?” She asked Y/n, giving her a genuine smile. "First time? You don't have to stress about it honey, it's most likely for you not to feel a thing"

“Ohh I didn’t think of anything... You see I was totally caught up on this. I didn't know I was coming so I didn'--- "

“Her idea was to make a semicolon on her wrist. Something simple. Y/n, babe, we talked about this. You’re not gonna chicken out right?” Y/n looked at her friend and her answer shocked herself more than anyone else in the room. “Okay. Yes you’re right Lisa. I’m already here so why not?” Lisa opened her mouth, closing it up immediately, smiling. Change comes with little steps. 

One step at a time

Athena showed Lisa some ideas until she finally chose what she liked the most. She was getting a sternum tattoo and the sketch Athena did was a piece of art, all those lines and details were just too perfect. She then excused herself to pick something up, disappearing for about 2 minutes, that's all it took for disaster to happen. While they were waiting for her to return they saw Jungkook walk through the door with two coffees. As he placed them on a small table in the entrance, Y/n realizes he didn't see them there, at least not until Athena returned to the room and spoke to him, causing him to look up where they were standing.

"Yooh Jkaay I'm glad you got here. Can you finish this design for me? I have these two pretty ladies here and the client will come by later to see if the drawing is ready but there are some parts I'm having trouble getting right, can you help me with this?” As soon as Jungkook looked up, he met Y/n's gaze, which was already focused on him. He had no reaction. “Hey lover boy. I know they’re pretty but I’m kinda waiting for an answer here” 

“Hmmm.. Oh yeah- yes. You can leave it there I’ll be sure to give it a look.” his gaze was intense as it met yours but didn't say anything, as if he didn't know you. Athena thanked him and directed the two of them to a large room. While her friend took her shirt off and laid down on her back, Athena settled everything on the sterilized table. Y/n was inspecting the drawings on the wall, realizing Jungkook's signature on the end of all of them. After placing the artwork where Lisa wanted Athena grabbed the tattoo machine, filling the room with the sounds the needles working and Y/n got scared. She was sure that was gonna hurt. 10 minutes in there's a knock on the door. After Athena replied, Jungkook walked in the room with what Y/n thought was the drawing she asked him to check. 

“This is fantastic Kook. If the idiot doesn't like it I'll have it myself. It's incredible." Jungkook smiled and looked at Y/n and then at Athena again. "This is going to be a lot of work Ath. It's full of details and has such a thin line. You have to be careful not to smudge as you clean it." 

"I know, I hadn't realized that. It's going to be a challenge but it'll look cool on her body. I still have her friend to tattoo but that’s something small and quick.”  Jungkook looked at her way.

“I can do it. I’m free and won’t have any client until noon.” Y/n froze in the moment. No fucking way. 

"I can wait. It's okay, really." Jungkook looked at her, picked up some still-closed material and opened the door. "Come on, I'll take care of it." And for a second, Y/n didn't know how to breathe anymore

Jungkook was waiting for her to follow him. When he noticed she wasn't moving at all he called out for her name again. Unconsciously, Y/n ended up getting up and going after him but she didn't leave without looking at the place Athena and Lisa were, noticing the strange expression Athena made. Had Jungkook ever mentioned her?

He went ahead, taking her to a more private room which was on the first floor. It was quite far from all the other rooms and common area. When they arrived there, he motioned for her to sit in front of what she assumed was Jungkook's desk. There were photos of several people, she doesn’t remember meeting any of them until one got her attention: it was a picture of Jungkook and Sewoon together. He was wearing white and she was wearing a black dress. She remembers this day very well- It was in the beginning of their relationship and Sewoon was having a party with her agency and Jungkook was her date, they were both so pretty and cuddly and looked so into each other. Jungkook was treating her like a princess and it was the first time Y/n felt anger towards her best friend. She cried all night after getting home, spying Sewoon's instagram and all the love-dovey pics she was posting. What a night

He sat on the chair in front of Y/n, behind his desk to sketch what she wanted to tattoo when he noticed where her eyes were wandering at, grabbing the picture and putting it in a drawer. She didn’t say anything, looking everywhere but him. 

“According to Athena you wanted just a simple semicolon on your wrist, right? So I did sketch want you wanted but added something more. If you don’t like it or want it you can say it and I'll do just what you initially wanted okay?” Jungkook showed her a design of a semicolon with a butterfly wing around it. It was honestly so beautiful. She remembers saying to him one time she identified herself as a butterfly, because no matter the situation she was going through she could always adapt herself and learn from it. Did he remember that?

“I- I love it Jungkook. This is so pretty and personal, I- Thank you, this is amazing. I’ll have it that way”  

“Are you sure? It’s gonna be there forever” 

“I’m 100% sure. Start this before I lose my courage” Jungkook gave her a nod, taking the paper and putting it on her skin with some wet liquid. He could tell she was nervous so he told her when he was about to start. “If you need me to stop let me know. We have time okay?” Y/n nodded  

“You have amazing sketches here. Not that I didn't know but you're super talented, I feel grateful that it’s you doing this on me. When you become a world-renowned artist I'm gonna brag about it, I’m already warning you.” After their fight yesterday, Y/n was trying to ease the tension between them but he was making it hard. She missed Jungkook and wanted to clear things up with him. She was done with all the confusion and misunderstandings, however, Jungkook remained in silence. “Please Jungkook I’m trying. I miss you. I miss us. I don’t even understand what happened yesterday and I’m sorry for hurting you in any way. I’m tired of this! You're driving me crazy by leaving me in this void. I'm not like this Jk, you know it. I don't care about boys but just the thought of losing you is killing me. That's the effect you have on me!”  He wasn’t paying attenton to her at all, or maybe he was just ignoring her on purpose, either ways she was getting more and more frustrated and did her best to keep her tears to herself since she couldn't get out of there. With her free hand, she surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve. What she didn’t know was that Jungkook was paying attention to all her movements.

“I’m sorry. I talk a lot with my clients for them to relax a bit but with you... I feel like if I talk I'm not gonna be able to concentrate and I don’t want to mess this up. You make me nervous just with your presence. That's the effect you have on me Y/n. When it comes to you I can't separate things”  

"I could’ve waited for Athena to do it. Actually I think it’d be better, given the situation we are at right now. Damn Jungkook I put my guard down for you and now you're treating me like this, what for? You criticize me for avoiding things, yet you're doing the exact same thing, it's not fair. You can't say whatever you want, make me feel bad and then do the same to me. I know I messed up somewhere. I know I should've been braver, but you are such a special and necessary part of my life that I was afraid of you not feeling the same way, could break everything we built so far, which is stupid right now because that's exactly what happened. There is no way we can go back to what we were before” By the time she ended her speech, Jungkook was already putting the final touches on the tattoo, being done with it. Both of them remained silenced until he had picked up the tattoo protection to place it around her skin. 

“Let’s do it then. Let’s put everything on the table and be honest because honestly I can’t handle this anymore too. Where do you want me to start? From the day we first met? I had the shittiest day ever it was raining so much. That’s what made me stop at the coffee shop. Then you looked absolutely gorgeous standing there looking at me and when you noticed I was staring back and pretended to have lost an earring, that caught my attention, how innocent and naive you looked. Then I started to get to know you better and it was it for me. It was so hard not to fall for you. I kept taking you out to places but you always friendzoned me somehow, I would tell you about non existing dates to see your reaction but you always had the same posture, I came to terms that it was a one-sided thing. Then Sewoon happened. When you introduced us, honestly I was very straightforward with her. I asked her about you, if you liked someone if you ever talked about me, you know, something to give me hope. But the answers she gave me weren’t the ones I expected to hear and I was so disappointed.” Y/n's system was soon on alert.  

“What- - What did she tell you?”  Jungkook took a while to answer which was making her impatient. She was about to lose her mind.  

“She told me you were seeing someone and it was getting serious. That she was sorry but wouldn’t get in the way. After that, we kept talking a little more and when I was about to leave she was the one asking me to go out with her. Just a simple date so I said yes, maybe that would help me take my mind of you.  Then things happened and time skipped and we broke up and yeah I didn’t take that well because no one likes to feel they failed at something, but I’m so glad we did. We didn’t align in anything, we fought a lot behind doors. Then came the party you and Sewoon went. I was already there remember? You looked so sad and the first thing I remembered was the guy you were supposed to be seeing. I was hoping you were long gone with the dude but the way you were acting and how you were talking to me ended up confirming Sewoon’s words about you and that special someone and I--- I lost my mind.”  

“So you ended up kissing Sewoon to relieve all that anger, right?”  She got up and slowly turned her way towards the door when Jungkook grabbed her arm.

“That was a terrible mistake. As soon as I realized what I did I stepped back immediately. After that I looked everywhere for you, but I didn’t found you. When I did, you told me you were leaving with someone and that was it. I tried talking to you all night but your phone was either out of reach or you wouldn’t respond.”  There's this awkward silence until one of them spok again.

“That night broke me Jungkook. You broke me. I was there, I was hurt and you noticed something was up but all your eyes were looking at was Sewoon. I wished so many times it was me you were kissing, holding, touching. I'd see you with her and all I imagined was us. That was so toxic of me, that's why I left, because I couldn't see you leave with her knowing the next day I'd know everything about it."

They didn't realize how close they were until they felt each other's breath hitting their faces. Y/n doesn't know when things changed, but since the night at the restaurant there is something that pushes them towards each other. She gets a strange feeling in her belly, in her chest… down there. It's strange, she never felt something like this for anyone and it was confusing her. She knows if he asked her something she'd do it on the spot. It seems like Jungkook could feel the tension either because the hand that was previously on her arm was now around her waist, while the other caressed the right side of her face tucking some hair behind her ear. It was then that she felt the distance between them getting shorter and shorter, when all of a sudden they heard someone knock on the door, opening it, revealing Athena's slightly confused figure.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, I heard voices and came to check if you were okay, as it's not usual for you to bring anyone here. I-- hmm- just wanted to let you know that I finished Lisa's piece and we're downstairs drinking some coffee and talking in case you'd want to join us when you finished whatever you were.... doing, but no pressure, make yourself comfortable, I didn't see anything. Use protection, okay? You still have a life to enjoy before any surprises." Jungkook made a desperate sound looking at Athena and throwing something at her

"Don't be an idiot, it's not what it looks like and you know it. Anyone hearing you talk would think you see me doing a lot of dirty things here. Work is work and I take it very seriously." Jungkook paused, glacing at Y/n, just to speak again. " We'll meet you downstairs in 10 minutes, I just need to finish explaining how she should handle this in the next few days." Athena hummed, giving them a nod before leaving. However, they heard her tell Lisa that - they were busy and would probably take longer to joy them- They knew she spoke loud for them to hear. Jungkook went to a drawer and took out a cream, handing it to Y/n.

"For the next three days you must avoid direct sunlight on the area. This protection should last for 24 hours, then you can remove it in the shower or by wetting the area with warm water, drying it well and applying the cream two or three times a day. If you feel any itching, that's normal, but if you see red spots around it let me know so I can check it out. But in principle, everything should be fine." Y/n nodded and thanked him, grabbing her wallet, heading towards the door but stopped halfway and turned around, facing Jungkook.

"Did you sleep with Sewoon here?"those words came out faster than Y/n could control. Why the hell did she ask that. Jungkook wasn't expecting that either, because his mouth opened and closed several times, not knowing what to answer, a little embarrassed. This gave Y/n a feeling that maybe the answer was yes. "Never mind, sorry, I don't know why I asked this. Forget it." She turned around again ready to open the door. She was about to do so when a hand above her head slammed the door shut again with a bang.

"Why do you always put me in difficult positions? It's past and - aiish- No Y/n, I didn't. This is my office, my space, my privacy, I don't bring anyone for anything more than work, not even Sewoon. This wasn't exactly the space she liked to frequent the most" Y/n nodded.

"I don't know why I asked, I'm sorry. Being here knowing that you and her were- you know- that would be just weird and gross. I mean, who knows what kind of "things" would be around here and-- Okay, nevermind. How about we go down? They're waiting for us and will start thinking stuff about us being here."

"So? Let them think what they want to think.. I'm not bothered at all. Are you?" When Y/n was about to answer, the door opened without warning revealing an excited Athena again, but she didn't realize that when she opened the door she had hit Y/n with it. "Shit Ath be careful. Knock before coming in. Jesus"

"Dude, I don't know what the situation is between you two, but behind the door is definitely not the best place. Been there, done that. It's interesting but not comfortable. Also, why are you so bothered by the knocking thing all of a sudden? That was never a rule. Just put something on the door handle to when you're busy doing other things. That's what I do with your broth-"

"Aiiiishh Athena. I'm not really interested in what you and my brother do or don't do, How disgusting. We were just talking! Stop being nosy and up on my ass. What's the matter with you today? why are you always coming here thought? You never care when I’m upstairs”

“Well you’re always by yourself, there’s nothing for me to pry on. Either way, I came here to tell you that the client you had for noon called to inform he’s no longer able to come. His wife went into labour, so you’re free for now”

“Well at least is for some good reasons. I’ll call him up later to reschedule.” Athena would steal glances from Jungkook to Y/n with a funny look, trying to see something she could pick up to tease them more “Anyway, I think I’ll grab lunch with Lisa. She’s pretty rad. Do you wanna come?” It was Y/n’s turn to speak

“I actually have some things to get done, but you go and have fun. Maybe we can grab a coffee later?” All she wanted was to run. After that stupid question she made she just wanted somewhere to hide.

“Of course, just give me your number. It’ll be easier” they both switched numbers and Athena gave a final goodbye to her, giving her a hug and winking to Jungkook, whispering behave before shutting the door completely. What the hell.

“So... The girls are leaving and you probably have things to do too so I should get going as well. I have to meet up with Joon, he asked me if I could stop by so hmmm, yeah. Thanks for your time. If - if I have any questions I’ll pass by. Thank you once again." This was her cue to leave. Uttering those words she was out of the door, running down the stairs getting closer and closer to the main door but when she reached it, it was locked.

Goddamn it!

She was thinking about calling Lisa to turn around and wait for her when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't dare to look back but in question of minutes she felt Jungkook's chest against her back, hearing him whisper

"Why are you always in such a rush when it comes to me? What are you so afraid of?" Jungkook turned her around to face him. "Let yourself go Y/n. For me, for you, for us. We've been over the friendship thing for a while now, don't you think? No matter how much you try to deny it, the attraction is here" He was so close to her she could feel his heartbeat.

"I can't" She whispered. "Everytime I look at you I get myself reminded of how you used to be with Sewoon. There was her before me and I can't compare. I can't erase that image of my head. I- I want to forget, but I can't"

"I'll help you forget. Let me help you forget, but mainly let me show you how there's no comparison between you and her" They were so close and there was so much desire so she let herself go and feel all she wanted, grabbing Jungkook by the hem of his grey shirt and closing the distance between them. The response to the kiss was automatic. Y/n felt Jungkook kiss her back as if he had already been waiting for this moment. Slowly at first, like they were testing each other, until he slowly pushed her against the door, placing his hand behind her neck, deepening the kiss. She never had a kiss like that. At this point she felt the entire zoo inside her and she was aware of everything around her: of how Jungkook's hands were hovering over her body, how their mouths were thirsty for each other, the way their bodies were so close yet so far.

It was just them and their desire for each other. And at that moment that was all that mattered.

Bonus: The famous tattoos made

Lisa’s OC'S

You're welcome ;)

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811 @cryingoverpixelsetc @11thenightwemet11 @rinkud @ayatie97 @jk-190811 @shaku1995 @blueberriesm @darkangelfei

[prettyboykatsuki]

the kind of makeup the lads guys like on u

disclaimer: all of these men are corny lover boys and think you are beautiful at any and all times. they would also never ever police any of your wardrobe choices or make u feel like u need to change. you would have to hound them before they even tell simple stuff bc they want u to dress how u feel good

this is just what i think they like to see especially on the occasions you like to do it. OKAY.

sylus - likes lipstick on you, especially deeper shades that stain a little. he has no strong preferences with eye makeup but enjoys soft glam (cut crease with very neutral colors, shimmers with a soft brown/taupe crease.) but general likes the attention to be on your lips. fond of watching you do your eyebrows

caleb - predictably likes natural makeup but also fresh, cutesy sort of looks lol. big fan of lipgloss in any shade but likes clear / translucent pink with glitter best. has a fondness for something subdued but sort of sparkly on your eyes. like a very light shimmer along your lid with brown liner. sweet to him but subtle. likes blush and gradient lips and watching you powder your whole face with a puff lol

zayne - like sharp but simple makeup as well as like. handsome girl makeup lol. winged eyeliner and a brown smokey eye. for lack of a better word likes when you wear makeup that compliments his wardrobe. deeper tones and looks with a slight edge to them, even slightly (or more than slightly) alternative. when i say handsome girl makeup i mean contouring with the intention of looking sharper with more muted eyes and lips. that is also smth he likes.

xavier - lowkey likes full glam 😭😭 i think people may disagree with me but it’s more about knowing about how hard the application is and appreciating the full process since you like it. he has the least actual preferences but the full beat really catches his eye. likes cut creases and when your features feel really defined. likes deeper toned nude lipsticks and seeing highlighter lol

rafayel - most predictable but loves editorial and experimental makeup. even just graphic liner. likes when you’re a touch playful with it and appreciates complicated looks more than the rest. likes when you play with purple, pink and blue and other shades of the sort. likes really glossy lipstick but with a stronger shade tint instead clear or translucent i think. likes the way it feels on him

[wherearedagrapes]

The deleted scene from the second movie where Maddie almost lets Sonic off the hook for sneaking out because he brings her (a ridiculous amount of) roses and Tom (who realizes immediately what Sonic’s trying to pull) has to keep Maddie on track also highkey reminds me of Amy and her hopeless romantic side lol like she would definitely swoon over a gesture like that and almost forget she’s mad.

Maddie’s so funny. I really do hope we get to see more of her. (Just realized Maddie and Tom are also wearing pink and blue here lol)

More thoughts on Amy under the cut.

If Amy is indeed on a mission to save the future/world, I can definitely see her having little self-preservation. The world — all the lives counting on her — matter so much more than her own life and desires. And if she’s been alone a decent while, I can see her having some trust issues or wanting to do a lot by herself… Amy (at least the Amy in the games I grew up with) has also always been bullheaded, take-charge, and kinda reckless. In the movie, it seems like she’s been tracking the Metal Sonics and knows way more about what’s going on than the others.

With all that in mind, I can see her taking over and maybe steamrolling “Team Sonic” at first, much to Sonic’s chagrin. He would try to be cool about it despite his wounded ego, but he would feel bossed around and unheard, and I can see them butting heads over this early on. Like I can see Sonic lowkey not following one of Amy’s plans out of spite and to prove his strategy is good if not better than hers and causing a mess. I can see Amy during one of her plans putting way too much of the dangerous responsibilities on her self and Sonic having to save her. I can see Amy struggling to be a team player, but in many ways she’d be similar to Sonic. And it could be a good way for Sonic to learn what it’s like for his friends when he disregards them/runs off into danger without them… How scary it is to be on the other side of that, to watch someone you care about be reckless with their own life or determined to do too much on their own. How frustrating, when all you want to do is help them.

You mentioning that Amy could see attachments as trouble is interesting because I’ve been thinking a lot about… IF Amy is from the future, isn’t she doomed to nonexistence? Depends on the time travel rules the movie chooses to follow ig, but logically, if the gang changes the future, the Amy that is a product of the bad future will disappear, right? If the future is changed/saved, then Amy would have no reason to time travel in the future. And if she never time travels, she never meets the Wachowskis… Wouldn’t it be like they never met?

I doubt the movie would actually end that way, but I can see this complicating things. I can see Amy going into this knowing/accepting from the start that she’s probably going to disappear if she succeeds in saving the future. She’ll change when the future does. She’ll become a different Amy with a different life. It’s not much of a burden until she meets Sonic and his family and starts growing attached to them. Now, she has something to lose. She’s carrying this bombshell around by herself because she doesn’t want anyone to put the mission at risk. Saving the future is too important. But she doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to lose these new connections. She doesn’t want to be forgotten...

Which circles back to those ideas of being too selfless and trying to handle too much by yourself. What Amy wants doesn’t matter, but it’s harder and harder to deny her feelings and the part of her that wants to keep this love and happiness she’s (maybe finally) found on Earth. She needs to trust her friends. She needs to let her friends help her. But that’s easier said than done.

With Amy coming along, I can't stop thinking about the Amy-Sonic/Tom-Maddie parallels.

You know, the pink and blue scheme, Tom having a similar personality to Sonic and Amy possibly having some similarities to Maddie, Amy and Maddie possibly being two big city girls with Amy being from New York and Maddie from San Francisco while Tom and Sonic are both from Green Hills, the setup of Amy plus 3 Wachowski siblings as well as Maddie and Tom, who canonically have siblings too.

They've been foreshadowing this couple since the second movie, fight me!!

(and Tom x Maddie are the parents and couple ever, I love them!)

(Also, please give Maddie more prominence. She's awesome!)