#i think i made her hair too long but it's fine

[fungateshortcakes]

Crochet me a mistletoe

Got this idea because, well, it's christmas and I recently started crocheting! I am nowwhere near as good as I described the skills of the reader. I can't even crochet a simple scarf. But practice makes perfect, and a girl can dream right? (Reader is gender neutral)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Its christmas at the mansion and you've crocheted everyone a special gift. What will Logan think about the present you made especially for him?

Wordcount: 4.9k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, none, fluff, slowburn-ish, friends to lovers, reader can crochet, painfully sappy, missunderstandings?, itty bitty bits of angst, happy ending

The x-men mansion in december felt like stepping into a festive snow globe. Frosted windows framed the place, a hord of students racing through the halls as they were excited to spent the christmas holidays at home with their families, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of christmas jingles that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

The large tree in the main living room was a masterpiece, each ornament carefully placed by a team effort of students and teachers. Even Logan had been forced politely asked to string the lights, grumbling about it the whole time while he was secretly ensuring that every lightbulb was perfectly in its place. Despite your reassurance that it was fine and that he could come down from the ladder already, he shook his head, a deep frown on his face as he munched on his bottom lip as he rearranged the lights for the 1000th time.

You sighed with a smile, deciding to let him do his thing. Yet you found yourself sneaking glances at him, something you had been doing more often than you cared to admit over the last few months.

He was rugged, rough around the edges and seemingly utterly out of place among the cheery holiday decorations, but there was something about seeing him standing by the firelight, a string of glittery garlands for the tree slung over his shoulder, that made your heart flutter.

But Logan was just your friend. A good one. And you weren’t about to mess that up by acting on a silly crush that wasn't anything more than that. So, instead of drooling at the way his muscles strained and dipped under the wife beater he wore even in this freezing weather while he helped decorating the place, you threw yourself into your newest hobby: crocheting.

For weeks, you had been holed up in your room, learning and practicing how to crochet everything from scarves, mittens and hats to cute plushies and useful items such as cup coasters or little bags.

It had started as a way to pass the time, especially when there was no mission you were sent to. And now that you were deep into the christmas holidays, you didn't even have a class to teach. That's when you realised you had nothing to do and it was time to find a new hobby.

But once you got the hang of it and felt like it wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, the idea of creating handmade gifts for your friends at the mansion had blossomed and you were eager to make a perfect present for everyone.

The work was slow but rewarding. You had already finished a soft scarf for Ororo in her favorite lavender colour that complimented her snow white hair and a set of soft, fingerless gloves for Hank in a deep navy blue. Each project felt like a little piece of yourself, stitched into every loop and knot.

But Logans gift had been different from the start.

It had taken you three tries to find the right yarn until you finally settled on a charcoal gray that would suit his style and features without standing out too much.

You decided on a sweater, something warm and practical that he could wear during the long, cold nights he spent patrolling the grounds. And, because you couldn’t help yourself, you added a small, personal touch. A tiny design embroidered over the heart, a pair of crossed claws encircled by a wreath of holly. You might as well, right? This project would take you a long ass time anyway, so a little embroidery wouldn’t hurt.

Crocheting actual clothing pieces like sweaters and jackets was a painstacking process, taking up lots and lots of yarn and taking forever. Only people you loved were worth that effort. You hoped Logan would know that once he held the finished products in hand.

Now with christmas eve approaching fast, the sweater was nearly finished. But you had other projects that you worked on simultaniously. If the task of crocheting another long chain for a scarf became too dreading and boring, you switched it up by continuing to work on a plushie.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna get yourself snowed in if you keep sittin’ there.”

Logans voice startled you, making you lose the stitch you were in. You looked up from your crocheting to find him leaning against the doorframe of the common room. The fireplace crackled warm beside you and outside the tall open window, there were snowflakes swirling in a gentle flurry. You sat cozy on the windowsill in your warmest clothes, enjoying the crisp breeze against your face and watching how the snow painted the garden of the mansion in a dazzling bright white, all while absentmindely crocheting your gifts.

“I like the view” you answered him with a soft smile, the yarn rolling between your feet as you pull at it “And I’m almost done.”

Logan left his spot at the door and stepped into the room, his boots making soft thuds on the wooden floor. “What’re you makin’?” You shook your head as you did only a little to hide the plushie you were crocheting “It’s a surprise” you teased.

Logan raised an eyebrow, hand in his pant pockets, his lips quirking into a smirk. “For me?”

You rolled your eyes with a soft giggle. “Only if you want a teddy bear plush in Scott's outfit" you said, throwing him a knowing look.

He shuddered in mild disgust, chuckled, then settled into the armchair across from you. “Nah, I'm good" he replied, putting his hands up in defence. Then his gaze landed on the bottom of the sweater, his soon to be sweater, that poked out from under your blanket draped over your lap. He pointed to it "I think one of 'em ugly christmas sweaters you are makin' would suit Summers better" he joked, thinking you would laugh along, but he noted your slight hurt frown. Him saying that he thought christmas sweaters were ugly made your heart sting painfully. You pulled the sweater under your blanket completely, shielding it from Logan. “It’s not ugly,” you mumbled, averting eyecontact with him.

In that moment, you weren't too sure about your gift for Logan anymore. The sweater you would give him wasn’t the usual christmas sweater with bright colours and corny patterns, but still, maybe he wasn't a sweater person? What if he didn't like it? He would never say it to your face, but just imagining his unimpressed face, a forced smile as he reluctantly thanked you, already thinking about the best and fastes way to get rid of the clothing piece, it made you want to cry already. All this effort for nothing?

You hadn't realised that you stared at Logan while you where deep in thought, a lit cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “Why’re you always starin’ at me?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your face heated. “I wasn’t staring. Just thinking” you pressed out, quickly picking up your crocheting again.

Logan blew smoke from out of his nostrils “Sure you weren’t” he said, but there was no teasing in his tone. If anything, he sounded curious, curious of what exactly you where thinking with your brows knitted together.

You focused on the yarn in your hands, on the way your hook looped easily through every stitch, willing yourself to act normal. This was fine. You were fine. “You’re workin’ too hard” Logan muttered after a moment. “Spendin’ all your time on this.”

You shrugged “It’s worth it” you smiled without looking up. “I want everyone to have something special this year. And what's more special than a present made especially for them. I guess the best gift is when someone thinks of you”

Logan looked at you. Looked at you for a long second and didn’t respond right away. When you finally glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his gaze already turned away and fixed on the fire. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, ask him what he meant by that, Logan stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His white tank top rode up slightly as he stretched, your eyes staring at the dimples on his back before you shook your head, your cheeks on fire.

“Don’t stay up too late” he called, heading towards the door. “Santa don’t visit if you’re awake.”

You laughed, nodding your head dismissive manner “Goodnight, Logan.”

Logan smiled softly as he looked back at you one more time “Night, darlin’.” And then he was gone. You looked down at the half-finished sweater under your blanket, your chest tight as you sighed.

The mansion was alive with holiday excitement the next morning, despite the kids not being there. But if they were, you just knew that they would be buzzing about presents and sneaking peaks under the towering Christmas tree already.

You spent most of the day putting the finishing touches to most of your gifts, tucked away in a quiet corner of the common room. All your presents were nearly finished, except for the sweater you had planned on gifting Logan. You couldn't bring yourself to work on it anymore. You couldn't even look at it, too ashamed that you even came up with this idea.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Logan appeared in the common room, carrying an armful of firewood. He always looked so effortlessly strong when he carried stuff, it almost made you drool over his forearms and hands. His flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his hairy forearms that had tiny snowflakes clinging to it.

You glanced up from your crocheting, trying not to stare too obviously.

“You been at that all day?” Logan asked, dropping the firewood near the fireplace with a loud thunk. He tried not to smile as he saw you bundled up with balls of yarn and wrapping paper surrounding you, a few ready gifts already stacked on top of the other, a hot cocoa with marshmallows steaming next to you on the coffee table.

“Almost done wrapping everything” you cheered, holding up a crocheted beanie for charles to keep his head warm.

Logans gaze locked onto the garment in your hands. His expression softened for a brief moment before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “Looks good” he said gruffly, turning his attention to the fireplace again.

You smiled faintly, folding the beanie neatly and tucking it into a small box with a gift card and putting it on the stack of finished presents after you wrote Charles name on it “Thanks.”

Logan unsheathed his claws and striked a match on one of them, shaking the tiny flame on a stick before throwing it to the pile of freshly chooped logs “You should take a break. All that knittin' and crochetin' must your fingers” Logan grumbled, blowing at the fire until the flames started to flicker to life, casting a warm glow across the room.

“I will once I am done with all of this” you replied to him, wrapping the next present aside. “it won't take long" Logan straightened back up, brushing his rugged hands on his jeans. “So, what are your plans tonight? Besides playin’ Santa Claus.”

“Ororo planned to watch a christmas movie with the team, I guess I will join them later” you replied, stretching your back a littlesince you had been sitting like a shrimp for the past few days, hunched over your projects. “Why, what about you?”

Logan shrugged "Not much" he cleared his throat “Might head out for a bit. Get some air.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

Logan gave a small, almost shy smile and shrugged “Never been much for all the holiday stuff.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You could stay in. Watch the movie with us.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. “Yeah? You think they wouldn’t mind?”

Your eyebrows raised as he seemed so unsure “Of course not" you denied, smiling warmly. “I can promise that they all want you there, Logan. I know I do"

That evening, the two of you settled into the couch along with Jean and Scott, a bowl of popcorn between you. Ororo sat draped over the seat next to the sofa, Rouge and Remy sitting in front of you on the ground while Kurt was sprawled out right in front of the TV, looking up at the flimmering box with a toothy smile. Even Charles had rolled in to join.

The movie, a classic Christmas move, The Grinch, to be exact, played on the screen, and even though it was one of your favourite christmas movies, you found yourself paying more attention to Logan than the plot.

He was unusually relaxed despite everyone being so huddled up together, leaning back against the cushions with his arms crossed over his chest. You fleetingly looked over to the present neatly tucked away under the tree. His sweater. You had decided to finish it after bickering over it for so long. Well, you didn't exactly have time to make him anything else. And if you did, it would only be half assed. And you didn't want that, Logan deserved more. Something special.

Halfway through the movie, Logan reached for the popcorn, his hand brushing against yours briefly. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark up your arm and you felt like you were part of a cheesy and cliche slowburn fanfiction.

You quickly pulled your hand away, your heart racing. “Sorry” he muttered, his voice gruff and quiet as to not alert the others. “It’s okay” you whispered back, trying to sound normal.

The room fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sounds coming from the TV, the crackling fire and a little hushed banter between Rouge and Remy. But you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Logan, your chest tightening with every second you spent sitting so close to him.

“Thanks for talkin' me into this” Logan said suddenly, his voice low. “Didn’t think I’d enjoy it much, but… it’s nice.” Your lips curved into a soft smile. “I’m glad.”

He looked at you then, his dark eyes catching the light of the fire. There was something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place, something warm and unguarded, even though a lot of people were around that could potentionally witness it. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you sitting by the fire, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting in his eyes.

Then Logan cleared his throat quietly, breaking the spell. “You’re really something else, I hope you know that” he muttered, his voice rough but sincere.

Your cheeks heated, and you looked down at your lap. There they were again, his words from yesterday. The thoughts you had repeated in your head the whole night, not knowing what they represented. “What do you mean?”

“You put all this work into makin’ people happy, to make 'em feel included even though they weren't into it at first.” He explained, draping a muscled arm over the frame of the couch. "You force people into their luck, ya know? Haven't seen anything quite like it"

You brushed a lock behind your ear. "I guess I just wanted to do something nice” you smiled softly. Logan let out a deep, content breath through his nose, looking at you, his eyes soft “Well, you did." Logan said, his gaze lingering on you.

For a second, you thought he might reach out and let the arm that rested over the couch snake around your shoulder to pull you into him, but then he shifted in his seat, his hand retreating to his side.

By the time the movie ended, everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights, swarming out to their rooms to sleep, letting the mansion fall quiet. Only Logan and you were left. You also wanted to just fall into your bed and sleep, but you were too tired already to get yourself moving.

Logan was the first to stand, stretching his arms over his head and giving you a good view of the prominent vein that cascaded below his waistband. You started to think he was doing this on purpose. “Guess I’ll head to bed too" he yawned, his tone thick.

Goodnight, Logan” you replied, watching as he headed toward the door.

He paused before leaving, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Night, darlin’. Sleep well.”

When he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The morning sun filtered through the frosted windows of the mansion, bathing the common room in a golden glow.

Christmas Day had finally arrived, and the mansion buzzed with the christmas spirit of all. It was a bit overwhelming to see everyone in their christmas pyjamas sitting around the tree, eager for presents.

Logan was already there too, leaning against the mantle with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Well, you liked to sleep in okay? It wasn’t hard to be down in the common room before you.

Logans presence was as steady as ever, but there was a quiet contentment to him this morning, you noted. He looked up as you entered and something in his expression softened.

“Mornin’” he greeted, his voice low, smooth and warm from the hot coffee he was drinking. You lifted your hand in a tiny wave “Morning” you yawned, smiling as you made your way to the tree, the rest of carefully wrapped gifts in your arms that you had finished just the night before after the movie. You couldn't sleep anyway since the thought of Logan made you stay awake, might as well perfect your presents.

After a while, it was your turn to hand out your presents. You crawled under the large tree, gifting them one by one. You watched in glee as the room filled with laughter and delighted exclamations. Ororo beamed when she unwrapped the lavender scarf you had made for her and Hank was already slipping on his navy gloves. Charles shooked his head with a chuckle as he saw the beanie you had crocheted for him, letting his fingers trace over it.

Logan waited patiently, allthough he didn'texpect there to be something for him, his dark eyes following you as you worked your way through the pile of gifts, quietly enjoying the unfiltered reactions from everyone.

When there was only one wrapped gift left you had to hand out, Logan wondered who it could be for since everyone had gotten their present already. But as you turned to him, handing him the neatly wrapped box containing his sweater, his brow lifted in surprise.

“For me?” he asked, as if the idea of receiving a gift was foreign to him.

You giggled at his reaction "Of course. Did you really think I wouldn't give you something?" you asked, smiling shyly. You were just as nervous for him to open the present as he was.

Logan carefully peeled back the paper, his hands oddly delicate for a man who seemed to handle everything with brute strength. When the sweater emerged, he stared at it for a long moment, his thumb brushing over the tiny embroidered design near the heart. He remembered the colour. This was the sweater he had called ugly. He had called your thoughtful gift ugly. He was a horrible person.

“You made this? For me?" he whispered in awe, a little more to himself, his eyes tearing up slightly.

“I did” you nodded, fiddling with your fingers as your nerves ate away at your insides. “Do you like it?”

He looked up at you, his gaze piercing. “I...this is…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he unfolded the sweater and pulled it on right then and there over his tank top. The fit was perfect and the sight of him in something you made with your own hands sent a warm flush through your chest. He looked like a chunky teddy bear and the urge to hug him was growing strong in your chest.

“Looks good on you” you said instead.

Logan’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “Feels good, too. Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of holiday cheer, but you couldn’t help noticing how Logan stuck close to you. He lingered near the kitchen while you baked cookies with Ororo and Rouge, his presence steady and reassuring. At one point, you caught him running his fingers over the sweaters fabric, his expression distant but content. He protected the sweater with his life, making sure no one ruined it by accidentally pouring wine over it. If just one atom of a cookie crumb were to touch the fabric, he would lash out.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after most had gone to bed and the mansion had settled into a peaceful quiet, that Logan found you sitting by the fire.

“You’ve been busy” he mumbled, his voice low as he sat down beside you.

“I guess I have,” you said, smiling. “It was worth it, though.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable like usual. Then he shifted and the next second, his big hand presented you a tiny wooden figurine, a little cat, carefully hand carved by him. "S'for you" he muttered, averting his gaze. The light of the fire did only so little to hide his embarrassed blush.

You gasped, taking the cat into your hands as if it was made out of glass and would break if you looked at it the wrong way "Did you....did you make this?" you asked him and he nodded reluctantly. You never thought Logan was into wood carving. But now that you knew, it made sense. "Yeah...didn't want to give it to you when everyone else was 'round. No need for 'em to know I have this hobby" he explained to you, picking at a loose thread on his sweater. Your stomach felt warm as you thanked him, holding onto his little present tightly.

You could feel Logans gaze on you as you admired his neat craftmansship, warm and steady and it took everything in you not to lean into him.

“Y’know” he said, breaking the drawn out silence between you “this is the best christmas I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”

You looked up at him “Really?” you asked, your mouth agape in wonder.

“Yeah” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile that was rare to see from him “And I think I’ve got you to thank for that.” Your heart swelled and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and placed your hand over his. Logan stiffened for only a short moment, his gaze darting to your hand, but then he relaxed, his fingers curling around yours.

“You’re welcome” you whispered softly. Logan didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

The fire started to die out, only faintly gleaming but still enough to wrap you and Logan in a light of warmth. Logans hand was still in yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as the quiet surrounded you both. You couldn’t remember how long you had been sitting there, since when you started to lean against him, head on his shoulder, but time seemed to stretch and slow, every second weighted with something unsaid.

“Darlin’” Logan finally murmured, his voice so soft it felt like it was meant for you alone. “Do you ever think about… settlin’ down?” the question caught you off guard for a second and you turned your head to look at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Settling down?”

“Yeah” he breathed, his gaze fixed on the low fire. He found an iron rod to dig and shove between the wooden logs that had long turned into coal and ash, trying to distract himself so the words would come easier. “Findin’ somethin’, someone, you can hold onto. Somethin’ real. Y'know, not these kinds of meaningless situationships.”

Your breath hitched and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Logan, the man who had always seemed like a force of nature. Wild, untamed and unyielding—looked almost vulnerable now, his expression open and unguarded.

“I guess I’ve thought about it. It would be nice to have that someone. The right person you can lean onto any time” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were leaning against that one person just now. “Have you?”

He let out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t think I had to. Thought I wasn’t the type for all that. But lately…” He trailed off, finally turning to meet your gaze, looking down at you cuddled up against him “Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ maybe I was wrong.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. “Logan” you began, your voice trembling slightly “what are you trying to say?” allthough the answer seemed obvious, you feared you weren't understanding him correctly.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tryin’ to say that I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I know I’m not the easiest guy to be around, but… you make me wanna try. Make me wanna be better.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Logan…” were you imagining things? Were you actually by the windowstill, all alone, dying from the cold Logan warned you about? The cold that looked gorgeous from inside a warm room but was vicious in its beauty, killing you because you wouldn't listen and close the window? Were you just taking your last breath, your mind tricking you into dreaming about what could be?

“I know I’m probably messin’ this up" he swallowed deeply, his voice rough with emotion. “But I had to tell you. Couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

His words were real, his warmth, his soft breath fanning across your face. You weren't dying. You were just starting to live. “You’re not messing anything up" you shook your head, voice breaking slightly.

His eyes searched yours and for the first time, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “You mean that?”

Instead of answering, you leaned up, closing the space between you. Logan froze for a split second before his arms came around you, pulling you close into his lap as your lips met in a kiss that felt like coming home after a harsh and straining day out in the cold.

It was soft and tentative at first, but as the seconds stretched on, it deepened, the barriers between you dissolving like snow in the sun. Your hands laid flat against his chest, feeling the warm and fuzzy fabric underneath your fingers. Logan sighed from his nose as the kiss deepened, a quiet, longing noise forming in the back of his throat.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the silence of the room.

“I care about you too” you whispered. “More than I can even put into words.”

Logan let out a soft, shaky laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess that makes us both pretty bad at talkin’ about feelings.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of relief. “Maybe. But I think we’re doing okay.”

Logan nodded “Better than okay" he murmured, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He was already getting addicted to this.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of warmth and quiet joy. Logan stayed by your side, his hand never straying far from yours as the two of you talked about everything and nothing. You felt like two teenagers that had sneaked away from everyone else to enjoy the thrill of making out and cuddling like in a sappy romance novel.

By the time the first light of dawn crept through the windows, you found yourselves curled up on the couch together, a soft blanket draped over you both. Logans arm was around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long while. The sweater he still hadn't taken off (and wouldn’t for a while) acting like a soft pillow under your face.

“Good night, darlin'” Logan murmured, his lips brushing against your hair before he looked out the window, the sun rising slowly. He knew it wouldn’t take long before the others flodded the room, but he wanted you to sleep and rest, even if it was just for an hour. He kind of felt bad for keeping you up until the sun literally rose again, but how was he supposed to fall asleep when he just found out you loved him back?

“Good night, Logan” you whispered, smiling as you closed your eyes.

For the first time, you knew without a doubt that this was where you were meant to be - wrapped in Logans arms, your hearts stitched together like the threads of a handmade gift, stronger and more beautiful for the care put into every moment you shared with him.

I've never tried putting dividers like this before, how do we like it? I am also sorry that I am not quite posting this on christmas anymore. I just always get the ideas so late and randomly that I can't get it out on time.

I can't type anymore bc my hands are literally that cold and now, update, i read over it and corrected some mistakes. If you still see any, im sorry😔🙏🏻 I've fallen you all

Merry christmas🎄🎀

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER FOUR // RUN IT BACK

series mlist 

Tags — mentions of catcalling-ish/a creepy comment, mentions of violence, the texts and the written part don’t connect it’s sort of just two separate parts, I’m only now realizing how odd the divs look I’m apologizing but not changing it, your phone isn’t tweaking the last two images are supposed to be transparent Words — 1.3k

The day was gloomy, the sound of downpour fading in and out with every opening of the front door. Had you been at home, your only company would be a good book and possibly a roll of raw cookie dough, maybe Nobara curled up at your side and updating you on the details of a couple in her design class. But you weren't at home, you were stuck here, surrounded by blurred faces and the smell of damp socks. You would be sure to use this against Miwa until the end of time, you told yourself. After a pathetically small amount of begging and the explanation that you think involved her boyfriend, you agreed. You knew she wasn't one to ditch out just because, so you barely bothered hearing her out before doing the favour. You were beginning to regret that.

You'd been spaced out for so long that you didnt even notice the oddly familiar head of hair, sat lowly and just almost resting on the back of the booth's seat. He stood out against the worn, ruby leather, a collection of pastels sitting on something dull and worn. Something bright and new presented to you, surrounded by familiarity. The deep lilac of his irises were trained on you, not exactly burning into you, but rather drinking you in. He wasn't harsh or searing or intimidating, he didn't make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and he didn't make you feel hot all over. He was soft, a whisper within the pitter patter of the rain, he was the warmth of coffee slipping down your throat on a cold day (even if sometimes, it ended up on the floor). 

You met his eye, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. It spoke louder than words, a reminder of the fleeting experiences you’d shared without ever truly having a conversation. 

“Toge,” you greeted softly as you walked over, voice sugary sweet and laced with something he couldn’t put his finger on. 

He replied with a smile, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled as he did. “Y/n.”

“No company this time?” 

You swear that his cheeks heated up just the slightest bit, and he glanced down for a second before turning back. “No, they bring bad luck… as you could see.” 

Your brows quirked upwards playfully, hands falling down to your hips. The notepad you were holding pressed gently into your side—a reminder of what you were actually supposed to be doing. “You sure they’re the bad luck?” 

“Yes,” he said, all too quickly and all too defensive. It was hard to suppress a smile by now, and you could very easily tell that he was facing the same problem. He was inside his own head locking himself for looking like a dork, but the bigger part of him knew that he truly was. I mean, last time you’d seen him he was double fisting instant ramen and short circuiting trying to decide whether to say hi or avoid you altogether, the internal conflict sending him into overdrive and leaving him standing there like he’d stared into the eyes of Medusa. 

But he was here now, and he was functioning just fine aside from his heart speeding up. 

He gave you his order and made sure not to stutter. He watched you longingly as you disappeared into the big grey double doors that led to the back, and he beat himself up for not saying more. He had another chance though, right? And he’d be sure to take it. So when you trotted back out, hips swaying ever so slightly and the pink of your lipgloss reflecting the glow of the piercing lights above, he wasn’t going to cower away. Toge was used to being friendly, but holding a conversation… yikes.  

“…are you busy right now?” 

You glanced down from where you stood over him, catching the awkwardness in the way he shifted. You gave a soft shake of the head, motioning to the nearly empty section around you. 

“Great. So… maybe you could sit…?” he asked. He tried to feign nonchalance, but the nervous rasp in his voice was hard to miss. Something warm curled in your chest, and you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him. Not when he was staring up at you, biting his cheek and silently screaming ‘I’m not usually this awkward, I swear!’ 

Sliding into the seat across from him, the cool leather pressed into you through your pants. You didn’t even realize when you started chatting away—it just came so naturally that it the beginning and the end were blurred. It faded in and out calmly, like the tide on a warm, empty day at the beach. Talking was easy with Toge. He followed everything you said with a nod and an approving hum, made sure you knew he was paying attention. He was undeniably present, but it wasn’t loud or suffocating. He was just there, gentle and warm and fresh. If someone asked you to recount the conversation, all you could remember was the way his light hair fell in tufts over his face as he nodded at something you said. If they asked him, he’d probably be able to recite it like it was a subject he’d studied for years. 

“So…” he said, voice soft as he tried to figure out a way to bring this up. If it hadn’t been you, he didn’t want to figure that out once it was too late and embarrass himself. He also feared that if it were you, he’d look creepy—or worse, make you uncomfortable. Based on the way you’d scrambled into the darkness of the sketchy corner alley, it didn’t take a scientist to figure out you weren’t up to any good. Did he have the right to mention it? Probably not. But sometimes the curiosity in his veins ran deeper than the need to keep you comfortable, so he didn’t stop himself. “You into rock?” 

You hoped the way your eyes widened ever so slightly and your spit catching in your throat wasn’t noticeable, but it was. It shouldn’t have been such a secret, but it was just so… not you. If he liked you, he figured he liked you how he saw you now. Your hobbies were quite the opposite, and the possible backlash was enough to make the words die on your tongue. 

“Y/n!” shouted a voice from the kitchen, making your body jolt up with the relief of an excuse to swerve the topic. You slithered out of the seat with a small smile and a heated face, basically running to the back. “That should be your order. I should uh… I should get back to work. I’ll see you!” 

When you were out of view, he let out a huff. His shoulders slumped, and he rested his head on the rough table for a second. You’d gotten away for a second time. Maybe this was the last. 

But then he walked out of the diner and looked at his receipt, only to see a ten digit number scribbled into the back of it. Underneath was your name with a little smiley face. He grinned, let out a breath of victorious (maybe surprised) laughter, and put it into his pocket. 

It wasn’t the last chance he had. He didn’t know it yet, but the universe seemed to align so that he’d have many, many more. 

Can you feel it in the air? That warmth? Yeah it’s romance

getting the story movingggg

they all thought Toge was a loser for going back

little did they know he got that bag

I apologize if these seem rushed because they somewhat are, I’m just not as motivated to write this series as I am other things :)

Also if you saw a post about this being posted at 6:40 no u didn’t.

yep we’re back chat. I’ve been flopping lately someone kill me for Emma got like 100 notes gang I’m gonna end it ALL. tbh I feel like that was deserved it wasn’t my best but it made people cry so a win is a win (pls stop attacking me I had three people in my messages ATTACKING me at once) oh… yall aren’t gonna like what I’m cooking up.

Taglist — 47/50

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @hqnge @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie @sirenla @academiq @mammoanlmao @moonchhu @ichcocat @blubearxy @hayl09 @q2uq2u @potteraep @fiannee @lailakys @jxisnwaol @treeguzzler @nanaanatiion @zayuriluvs @kr1nqu @cloudxox @azinniyaa @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee

— I removed the people who haven’t changed their tag settings after 3 chapters, so there’s been some space cleared up! You’ll be removed if your tags don’t work for three chapters straight, so please make sure they’re correct :) if you’ve fixed them don’t be afraid to comment and ask me to add you back

[misahyochaeng]

Can we get a momo car smut? it would suit her scene in the Strategy mv 😮‍💨

Let Me Into Your Heart. 🎄

tw - fluff, angst, smut, car sex, idol x idol!reader, tenth member reader, friends to (?), cunnilingus, bi-curious!reader, implied cheating/breakup, fingering, first time with a girl, praise kink.

note: a lil christmas gift for yall!!! enjoy

—

“Should we get more popcorn?” Chaeyoung asked as she shook around the unpopped kernels in the ceramic bowl they had all been using. All ten eyes fixated on the TV screen that was displaying the movie “Home Alone.” It had become a group tradition to watch it every christmas-eve.

“Chaeyoung, this is our fifth bag, we’re gonna run out of popcorn before this movie is even finished.” Jihyo scolded lightly as she sat on Sana’s lap, the Japanese girl toying and twirling with some locs of Jihyo’s hair. “Well it’s not my fault some people here aren’t saving some popcorn for the rest of us!” Chaeyoung argued as she eyed you and Momo, a pout of her face as she sulked with furrowed brows. Momo stuck her tongue out and mocked the girl while you stuck your middle finger out and pouted, some banter immersing you all as the movie continued on.

Your phone buzzed.

Jisung: “Y/N, can we talk?.”

The playful banter continued for a few moments before your phone buzzed again, louder this time, cutting through the sound of the movie. You glanced down at the screen, your heart sinking slightly at the message:

Jisung: “Please, it’s serious.”

For the past few days, he'd been distant—barely answering texts, no late-night calls after hard weeks of recording, no cute emojis or "I miss you" messages. Nothing. The sudden flood of unease gnawed at your popcorn filled stomach. You weren’t sure if it was the holiday season or the amount of unaligned schedules, but the weight of his absence had started to feel heavier than usual.

Momo, sitting beside you, noticed the subtle shift in your mood. She glanced at your phone and then back at you, her expression softening. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, her voice laced with concern, her hand caressing yours with her thumb.

You froze for a moment, suddenly aware of how tense your shoulders had become. You didn’t want to dive into it now—not with everyone here, not on Christmas Eve. You forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like it might break at any moment. "Yeah... I'm fine. I’m just gonna step outside for a bit. I'll be right back."

Momo looked at you for a second longer, her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press. She knew better than to push too hard when you weren’t ready to talk. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything," she said softly, her eyes staying on you for a moment before you stood up and headed for the door.

You made your way down the hallway, the muffled sound of laughter from the living room fading behind you. The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the sudden silence almost suffocating. You unlocked your phone again, reading Jisung’s message over and over:

Jisung: “Call me. I need to tell you now.”

A chill ran through you, though not from the shivering cold. Serious? What did that even mean? You stared at the screen, fingers frozen in place. Part of you didn’t want to know the answer, but you couldn’t ignore it. You needed to hear it from him, even though you already had a sinking feeling in your gut.

Taking a shaky breath, you tapped his name, a little white heart next to it. The phone rang twice, then he picked up. His voice was different—distant, quieter than usual.

"Hey," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracked slightly. "Hey," Jisung replied, but there was something in his tone—hesitation? Nervousness? You couldn’t tell.

You swallowed, trying to shake off the dread creeping into your chest. "What’s going on? Is everything alright?" There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice even more strained now. "I... I think we need to talk."

The words hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat. We need to talk—you knew what that meant. You felt the air go still, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “About what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He let out a long breath, like he was trying to find the right words. “I don’t think we’re... I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore,” he said, his voice barely audible now. “I think it’s time we... end things.”

You couldn’t breathe for a second. The words stung in a way you hadn’t expected. You felt your chest tighten, the cold air no longer offering any relief. “Jisung, no...” you managed to whisper, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. You had expected this to come, but hearing it... it still hurt.

There was silence on the other end for a long moment, and then he sighed. "I’m sorry. I just... I think it’s better this way." The words felt like a slap in the face, and the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. It was Christmas Eve. You had been hoping, maybe even pretending, that things could be fixed, that it was just a rough patch. But this... this was the final word.

You tried to steady your breath, but it felt impossible. Please, you thought. Just don’t let it end like this.

"Jisung, please... don’t do this," you whispered, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. "We can fix this. I know we can. Just... talk to me. Please." There was a long silence on the other end, and you could almost feel the distance growing between you, stretching wider and wider. His voice finally broke through, distant and emotionless. "I’ve already talked to my company," he said, each word heavier than the last. "They’re going to issue a statement tomorrow. It’s already been decided."

A statement. Your chest tightened. Your throat felt like it was closing. "A statement?" you echoed, almost laughing at how absurd it sounded, but the bitter edge to your voice made it clear you weren’t finding any humor in it. "You’re not just ending things, Jisung. You’re... you’re making it official with a statement?"

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, and there was a finality to it. Something in his tone said this wasn’t a conversation anymore—it was a conclusion. A chapter closing. “This... it’s for the best.” The words stabbed at you like a thousand needles. For the best? How could this be for the best?

“No,” you whispered, your heart pounding. “No, Jisung. I don’t want this. I can’t just... let you go. Not like this. You can’t make a decision like that without even trying—please.” You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to pull yourself together, but you were barely holding on. “We can talk about it. We can fix this. Please.”

“I’ve thought about it, and I know this is what’s best for both of us,” he replied, but his words felt like they were slipping away from you, becoming less real with every breath. There was no room for anything else, no space for the love you’d shared. Just cold, emotionless distance. A lump formed in your throat as you pressed your palm to your forehead, trying to stop the tears from coming. "But I love you," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I don’t want to let you go. Please don’t do this. I can’t—"

He sighed. It was long and exhausted, like he was done explaining, done trying to make you understand. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft but final, like he was already saying goodbye. “I think it’s better this way. I really do.”

"No," you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, your entire body trembling. *Please, don’t hang up. Please, don’t leave me with just this.* "Please... please just listen to me, Jisung. We can work through it. We can—"

But before you could finish, there was a sharp click.

The call ended.

You stared at your phone, your hand shaking, the empty screen glaring back at you as if mocking your attempts to hold it together. The cold air outside suddenly felt suffocating, and you clutched the phone in your hand, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in your chest.

He was gone. Just like that.

A familiar voice cut through the cold silence.

“Y/N, the girls told me to bring you a jacket, Jihyo didn’t want you catching a co—”

Momo stopped mid-sentence when she saw you, her words faltering as she took in the sight of you standing there. Your face was pale, eyes swollen and red, and your nose was bright from the cold, but it was clear—it wasn’t the cold that had made you look this way.

Her breath caught in her chest. She could see it in your eyes—something had shattered, and it wasn’t just the chill of the night.

You didn’t speak, just stood there, looking like you were trying to hold yourself together, but barely. Momo’s heart twisted as she saw how small you seemed, how lost you were.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, instinctively, Momo stepped forward, her voice soft but full of concern. “Y/N…”

You didn’t respond. You just looked at her, your lips trembling, and that was all it took for Momo to close the distance between you. She didn't ask any more questions, not yet—she just shrugged the jacket off her shoulders and wrapped it around you, the thick wool lining offering warmth against your skin. The smell of her perfume, the faintest trace of something sweet and familiar, clung to the jacket, mixing with the cold air around you.

She pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her hands warm against your trembling body. For a few seconds, she just held you, letting the silence settle between you. She could feel the tension in your body—the way you were trying to hold it all in, like you were waiting for something to change.

Momo didn’t know what to say. The words felt like they were stuck in her throat, but one thing she did know: you needed her, and that was enough for now.

Her thumb brushed softly across your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. She took a deep breath, her voice breaking the silence, but barely above a whisper. “What happened?” Her words were careful, like she didn’t want to push you too hard. "Y/N, please talk to me."

You closed your eyes, the pain in your chest threatening to crush you with each breath you took. You shook your head as if to shake off the reality of it. “He… he ended it. Just like that.”

Her arms tightened around you, but she didn’t say anything for a moment. She just let you keep talking, keep processing.

“He… said it was for the best. That it’s over. That we’re over.” You choked on the last words, your throat so tight you could barely breathe. “He’s already talking to his company, Momo. They’re going to release a statement tomorrow…” You trailed off, your voice barely audible, and your hands gripped the edges of the jacket she’d wrapped around you as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

Momo’s chest ached as she heard your words, her heart breaking for you. She knew you and Jisung had been going through something, but this? This felt so final. Her fingers brushed against your hair gently, tucking a strand behind your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You just shook your head, unable to say anything more. The weight of everything was too much, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself lean into her warmth. Momo held you like she’d never let you go, like she could protect you from all of this pain, even though she knew she couldn’t. But she would be here. She would always be here.

Momo gently pulled away, but kept her hands on your arms, her voice soft but insistent. “Okay, listen to me. We’re gonna get through this,” she said, her tone more confident now, though there was still a quiver of concern underneath. “I’m gonna go talk to the girls. We’ll come up with something. I’ll take you out for a little drive, get some air. You deserve that right now, okay?”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. You just nodded, still trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. Momo squeezed your shoulders before rushing back inside to join the others.

Momo burst back into the living room, still feeling the weight of the moment. The girls glanced up at her, noticing her flushed cheeks and the wild, panicked look in her eyes. Before anyone could say anything, Momo blurted out, “It’s over. She... he ended it. It’s over.”

The words hit the room like a bomb, and the girls froze. For a second, no one moved. Then, a beat later, Nayeon looked up from her phone, her eyes wide. “Wait, wait—what?” She blinked rapidly, trying to process. “Momo, have you seen a ghost? What’s happening?” Momo groaned, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I’m serious, Nayeon. It’s over. Y/N’s heartbroken, and I... I don’t know what to do. She’s falling apart, and I just—” She shook her head, cutting herself off. “I need to fix this.”

Jihyo looked up from her seat with a knowing smile, trying to calm Momo down. “We’re not saying you have to fix everything, Momo. But you can’t do it alone.”

“Right,” Sana added, her voice light with a teasing tone. “You need help. You’ve been practically obsessed with Y/N for months. It's okay, we see it.” Momo’s face turned beet red, her hands flailing in the air as she tried to brush off their comments. “I... I’m just trying to help her. This is about her, not me!” She was still panicking, but it was clear from her flushed face and darting eyes that they were right. She liked you. She always had.

Chaeyoung gave her a knowing look, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Momo… you do know this is just a breakup, right?”

Momo froze. “What do you mean? Of course it’s just a breakup—what else could it be?!” she said, waving her arms dramatically. Sana, eyes twinkling, smirked. “Momo, we’ve been watching you two for months now. The way you look at her? You think we didn’t notice? Please.”

“Yeah, you’ve practically been ready to confess,” Jihyo added, crossing her arms. “Except you keep getting interrupted by work or... Y/N’s boyfriends or whatever.” Momo’s face went bright red. “What? No! I—I’m just—what?!" Her hands flailed in the air even harder now, like she was trying to swat the conversation away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m just trying to make her feel better, okay? She’s my best friend. That’s all.”

Chaeyoung leaned back into the couch, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Sure. Best friend. And you want to make her feel better because...?”

Sana and Jihyo both shot Momo a knowing look, and Momo groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Okay, fine! Fine, I like her. But that doesn’t matter right now! She’s hurting, and I need to figure out how to help her.”

“Look,” Jihyo said, leaning forward with a smirk. “It’s okay. We’ve all been in your shoes at some point.” She paused dramatically, glancing at the others. “Well, not everyone.” She shot a look at Sana, who rolled her eyes.

But now wasn’t the time for that. “I’m taking her out for a drive. She needs to clear her head,” Momo said quickly, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m gonna be there for her. I just... I need to get her to feel better, okay?”

Chaeyoung leaned back on the couch, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so now we’re trying to get her to feel better. What happened to the Momo who was all, ‘We’re just friends’? Huh? You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Momo’s face went even redder, but before she could respond, Jihyo stepped in, holding up a bar of chocolate with a smirk. “Here, Momo,” she said, tossing it to her. “You’re gonna need this. Chocolate fixes everything.”

Momo caught the chocolate, but she barely acknowledged it, her mind still racing; then she blinked, momentarily distracted by the random appearance of chocolate in Jihyo’s pocket. “...Wait, did you just have that in your pocket this whole time?”

Jihyo smirked, unwrapping another bar she had stored. “Never leave home without it.”

“Oh you’re weird.. anyways, right. I’ve got this. I’ll take her for a drive, talk things through... Just... make her feel better. Mission: Help Y/N Feel Better is a go.” She gave a dramatic sigh, half-exasperated, half-hoping she wasn’t totally messing this up.

The girls all nodded in unison, giving her supportive smiles.

Momo quickly turned toward the door, but not before shooting one last glance at the girls, her mind still racing. "Thanks, guys."

The scene shifted, and suddenly, Momo was standing with you at the front door. The moment of action felt strangely quiet between you two, almost like you were both holding your breath.

“So...” Momo started awkwardly, holding the strings of her hoodie inbetween her fingers like it might help steady her. “I thought... maybe we could just go for a little drive? Clear our heads. Get away from all of this for a bit.”

You stood there for a second, still processing everything, feeling the cold air against your cheeks. You glanced at her, your eyes tired, but you nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered, forcing a weak smile. “That sounds... good.”

Momo hesitated, her hands fidgeting with her hoodie before she stuffed her hands in its pockets. Her heart skipped. It was like it was happening too fast, but also, it was the only thing that made sense. You needed comfort, and she needed to be there for you. That’s all she could do right now.

“Alright,” Momo said, almost to herself, trying to regain her composure. “Let’s go.” And with that, the door clicked closed behind you both, the world outside waiting—neither of you knowing exactly how the night would unfold, but knowing you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

Momo opened the car door for you, her hands steady but her mind racing. “Here,” she said softly, offering a warm smile as you slid into the seat. She closed the door gently behind you before walking around to the driver’s side, sliding in and starting the engine. She glanced at you with a playful smile. “You want the heater on?”

You groggily nodded, your body shivering slightly from the cold air outside. The warmth of the car hit you almost immediately, flushing through you like a wave, and you let out a small sigh of relief.

Momo reached into the backseat, pulling out a thick, cozy-looking blanket. She held it up to you, her brow furrowed in mock seriousness. “Do you always just keep this here?”

You raised an eyebrow at her teasing. “Do you want it or not?” Momo shot back, her lips puckered in that endearing way she did when she was being playful.

You giggled softly, nodding. “Fine, I’ll take it.”

With a smile, she wrapped the blanket around you, tucking it in carefully, her hands brushing against your arms as she did. You let out a pleased sigh, sinking deeper into the warmth.

Momo buckled up, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway, her focus now on the road ahead. The quiet hum of the engine filled the car, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched the side windows begin to fog up, your breath a little heavier, as you gazed out at the Christmas decorations twinkling in the distance. Couples walked hand-in-hand, laughing under the soft glow of holiday lights, and for a moment, you forgot how cold it had been outside, lost in the warmth of the car.

But then, just as quickly as it came, the thought of him slipped into your mind. It had been your second Christmas together. Your second Christmas you wouldn’t get to share with him again. The ache in your chest returned, the holiday cheer around you somehow making it worse.

Momo broke the silence before it could consume you. “Are you thinking about him again?” she asked bluntly, glancing over at you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, then quickly lied. “No,” you said, forcing a small smile as you looked away from her.

Momo didn’t miss the way you stiffened, the shift in your expression. She knew. Her voice softened, but there was something else there, something sharp. “He never really deserved you.”

The way she said it made something in your chest tighten. There was an odd tone in her voice—something... almost like jealousy? You looked over at her, trying to make sense of it, but before you could ask, she continued, rambling softly as if trying to hide the edge in her words.

“He was an ass, Y/N. Seriously. No one should treat you the way he did. You deserve so much more than that...”

You couldn’t help it. You teased, your lips curling into a small grin. “Are you sure you’re not the one going through the breakup?”

Momo’s eyes widened in surprise before she laughed softly, her usual playful nature returning. “I’m just... sympathizing,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of something deeper you couldn’t quite place.

You softened, your expression turning more serious. “Thank you, Momo.”

The silence fell again, but this time, it felt different. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just two people, driving through the night, each lost in their own thoughts but sharing the same space, the same moment. The world outside was busy, filled with lights and laughter, but here, in the car, there was only warmth and quiet.

After a few more minutes of driving, Momo pulled into a small coffee shop parking lot. The warm glow of the shop’s windows was inviting, and the smell of coffee and cocoa drifted in the air. Momo shifted the car into park and turned to you, her smile returning. “Let’s go get some hot cocoa. You look like you could use it.”

You stared at the coffee shop happily, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been craving something sweet, something to distract you from the ache that had been gnawing at your chest.

With a quick nod, you unbuckled your seatbelt, excitement bubbling up inside you. “I love hot cocoa,” you said, practically bouncing in your seat.

Momo chuckled at your enthusiasm, rolling her eyes playfully as you quickly hopped out of the car, your steps light. “You’re like a little kid,” she teased, but there was affection in her voice.

You didn’t care. For the first time all night, you felt a little lighter, and Momo was the reason for it.

As you both stepped into the coffee shop, the cozy atmosphere immediately embraced you. The air was filled with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and a hint of peppermint. The place was decorated with twinkling lights, a large tree in the corner sparkling with gold and red ornaments, and little touches of holiday cheer all around. The soft hum of Christmas music played in the background, making everything feel warm and festive.

Momo walked up to the counter and ordered the Christmas special hot cocoa—whipped cream topped with little Christmas sprinkles, the kind that made you feel like you were inside a snow globe. When the drinks arrived, she handed one to you with a smile.

You took a sip, and the sweetness hit you almost immediately, the warmth of the cocoa comforting you in ways you didn’t expect. A wide smile spread across your face, and Momo watched, amused.

She giggled softly, her eyes crinkling with affection. “You’re adorable,” she mumbled under her breath, watching you with a soft expression. Then, without warning, she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture.

You blinked, caught off guard but still smiling, and struck a playful pose, holding up your mug like a model. You giggled at yourself as Momo put the phone down, her eyes still fixed on you.

“I probably look so bad right now,” you said, rubbing your eyes lightly, feeling a little embarrassed.

Momo quickly shook her head, her voice a little too loud in her rush to correct you. “Don’t say that! You’re always pretty, Y/N.” The words slipped out awkwardly, and she immediately flushed, her cheeks turning pink.

You couldn’t help but tease her. “Aww, you’re so sweet, Momo,” you said, your voice teasing as you grinned. “You’re totally in love with me, aren’t you?”

Momo sulked, slumping in her chair and crossing her arms, clearly embarrassed. “Shut up,” she muttered, hiding her face behind her mug. “You’re such a brat.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, sipping your drinks. Then, just as the moment started to feel peaceful, Momo reached into the pocket of her hoodie. She paused for a moment before pulling out the chocolate Jihyo had given her earlier. She placed it on the table, shoving it toward you.

“Wowww, so charming,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you picked up the chocolate, unwrapping it with a playful smile.

Momo rolled her eyes dramatically, but she was secretly pleased. “Shut up, just take it,” she muttered.

You bit into the chocolate, letting out a hum of delight at the rich flavor. “Mmm, this is so good,” you sighed, before raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t these Jihyo’s chocolates?”

Momo hesitated for a second, her cheeks flushing again. “Uh... yeah... but she said I could have it... or something...” she trailed off, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

You smirked, teasing her again. “Sure you didn’t just steal it, huh?”

She quickly changed the topic, eager to avoid the embarrassment. “Okay, okay. Let’s go for another drive. There are some really cute light displays I wanted to show you. You’ll love them.”

You finished your cocoa with a smile, feeling lighter than before, and nodded eagerly. “I’m in,” you said, excited again. “Lead the way!”

Momo stood up and grabbed her jacket, offering her hand out to you with a smile. “Alright, let’s get out of here. The lights are waiting.”

You slipped your hand into hers, and together, you stepped out into the chilly night air, the car ride ahead feeling like the perfect distraction, filled with warmth, laughter, and—maybe even a little bit of magic.

Momo sat in the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you climbed back into the car. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, but your eyes sparkled, still captivated by the lights you had just seen.

“These lights are so pretty,” you said softly, glancing out the window at the glow illuminating the snowy streets. Turning to her, you added with a small smile, “This is really nice... especially because I’m with you.”

Momo’s fingers twitched against the steering wheel, her heart skipping a beat. She tried to steady her breath, her eyes briefly flicking to yours before darting back to the road. “Really?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

You nodded, resting your hands in your lap. “Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this... peaceful.”

She wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in her throat. Just as she gathered the courage to speak, your phone buzzed, breaking the fragile moment. You sighed, pulling it out and staring at the screen. Jisung. Your stomach twisted as you hesitated, but ultimately, you answered.

“Hello?” Your voice lacked its usual warmth.

On the other end, Jisung’s tone was sharp and frustrated. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

“What’s left to talk about?” you replied, exhaustion lacing your words. “You broke up with me today, Jisung. On Christmas Eve.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be like that!” he snapped, his voice rising. “But you never listen to me—”

His words blurred together as your chest tightened, the overwhelming weight of the day catching up to you. You blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears burning your eyes. “I don’t have the energy for this,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. But before you could say more, Momo leaned over and gently, but firmly, took the phone from your hand.

“She’s busy,” Momo said sharply into the receiver, her tone calm but edged with steel. Without waiting for a response, she hung up and set the phone down on the dashboard. You stared at her, stunned. “Momo, you didn’t have to do that—”

“Yes, I did,” she interrupted, her jaw tightening. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the intensity there made you forget to breathe. “He doesn’t get to talk to you like that. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Her voice was steady, but there was a tremble in her hands that gave her away. “You deserve so much more than someone who makes you feel like this, Y/N. Someone who cares about you, who treats you the way you deserve to be treated.”

You swallowed hard, her words striking something deep within you. “Momo...”

Her eyes softened, and she looked down at her lap, exhaling slowly. “If it were me,” she continued, her voice quieter now, “I’d treat you better than that.”

Her confession lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken until now. Your heart raced, and you turned to fully face her, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah?” Momo froze, realizing the weight of what she’d just said. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet yours, her vulnerability laid bare. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely audible but sure.

The silence between you thickened, the atmosphere in the car charged. Outside, the city lights sparkled in the distance, but neither of you noticed.

“I want to kiss you right now,” Momo blurted, her voice cutting through the quiet. Your lips curved into the faintest smile, and you tilted your head slightly. “So do it.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then, she leaned in, her hand trembling as it came to rest gently against your cheek. Her lips brushed yours softly at first, testing, before pressing more firmly. The kiss was warm, tender, and filled with an unspoken emotion that made your heart ache in the best way.

The faint taste of chocolate and strawberry lingered between you, and when she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. Her eyes fluttered open, searching yours nervously.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. You smiled, your fingers brushing against her cheek as you leaned closer. “Then don’t stop now.”

Her lips curved into a shy smile before she kissed you again, the city lights twinkling behind you as the night finally felt like Christmas.

The kiss deepened slowly, the initial tenderness giving way to something more urgent, more desperate. Momo’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair as she tilted her head to press closer. Her lips moved against yours with a quiet, restrained passion, as though she had been holding herself back for far too long but was afraid of overwhelming you.

Your hand found its way to her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her hoodie as if grounding yourself in the moment. Her other hand rested on your waist, fingers splayed like she couldn’t get enough of the feel of you under her touch.

The warmth in the car seemed to rise, the windows fogging slightly as her lips parted against yours, and you felt her breath mix with your own. There was a soft, almost inaudible sound from her throat, a hum of satisfaction that sent a shiver through you.

Your body leaned into hers instinctively, the space between you shrinking until there was hardly any left, swinging your legs over to straddle her lap. The kiss grew more insistent, her lips moving with a rhythm that felt like a conversation without words. She pulled you closer, and your chest pressed against hers, the tension thick and electric.

When you broke apart for air, both of you were breathing heavily, your faces still inches apart. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something raw and unfiltered that made your pulse race. Her thumb brushed against your jaw as if she couldn’t stop touching you, and her lips were slightly swollen, glistening from the kiss.

“Momo…” you whispered, your voice trembling with both nerves and anticipation.

Her eyes flicked to your lips, and she exhaled shakily. “I—” she began, but words seemed to fail her as her gaze returned to yours, her need palpable in the way her hands tightened their hold on you. “I want you.” she bit her lip lightly, “Please?”

You nodded lightly and she didn’t waste any time, latching onto your neck, a needy groan escaping her lips as she bit onto your skin. “Fuck, Momo..” you whined.

She continues to suck on your neck, her hands roaming under your shirt to toy with your chest almost possessively. She breaks away slightly, panting, "Let’s go to the back..."

You nod and she climbs into the backseat after you, a lustfilled glint in her eyes. She closes the door and locks it, ensuring privacy. She turns to face you, her gaze intense, yet you could see the slight nervousness on it. "Take off your shirt..."

You slip off your jacket before taking off your shirt, revealing your black bra that’s decorated with lace at the hems, Momo’s mouth practically drooled at the sight, “You’re so beautiful..” she muttered before pulling you closer, she pushed you down softly onto the cars door as she hovered over your body, kissing from your collarbone to your chest, swiftly unlatching your bra, almost like muscle memory.

She cursed under her breath at the sight of your bare chest and didn’t waste any time to latch on, putting her swollen lips onto one of your hardened nipples, a sensitive moan escaping your lips as your hands tangled onto her black hair, she hummed in delight, “Gosh Y/N-ie, you taste so good..” you whimpered as you grinded your clothed center on her thigh, a pout on your lip as you carressed her head.

“No ones fucked you like this before, no?” she kept sucking your tits as her hands fiddled on the buttons of your jeans. You shook your head, “Bet that shit-head of your boyfriend couldn’t make you feel good.” she bit softly onto your nipple, you threw your head back slightly. “Hnngh— n-no…” Momo chuckled softly “Yeah? couldn’t make your pretty cunt feel good?”

She digged her hand through your pants and began toying on your swollen clit through your underwear, “Couldn’t… satisfy me.—Nngh.”

“Gosh, you’re so wet, baby, so fucking cute, can’t wait to feel you inside me.” she smirked against your skin, leaving a path of wet kisses all over your collarbone and breasts. “Please, i need it Momo..”

“Yeah? you need me inside you? Fuck..” she slowly dipped her fingers in your wet cunt, moving your panties to the side as she tested the waters, letting you adjust to her length, you could see in her face she was holding back—holding back the urge to absolutely ruin you with her fingers, make you forget the existence of that shitty man from how good she was making that pussy feel.

She curled her fingers in deeper, her palm rubbing your clit from time to time, she pressed her lips on yours in a hungry kiss, a low husky growl leaving her lips as your moans vibrated against them, your sounds were like a vivid symphony to her, she craved more and more, the touch of your skin, the wetness and tight squeeze around her length, the smell of slight musk covered by your fruity perfume—she craved it all.

“Gosh i’ve wanted this for so long. I crave you, Y/N.” she moved her fingers in figure eights, “Wanted you so badly—wanted to have you like this.” she kissed your neck as she curled her fingers, inching them even deeper now, “Fuck—! Momo.. It feels so good!” she chuckled before speeding up her pace again, the muscles on her forearm flexing at every thrust. “Yeah? Unnie fucks your pussy good, right?”

“So fucking good—Gosh, fuckfuck fuck! Momo..” She practically ripped your pants off you, the garment flying somewhere to the passenger seat, your panties coming off with it too. “Good girl, baby.” she coos as she puts her tongue right on your pussy, both her fingers and tongue doing the work, your hand instinctively went to push her further into your cunt, her structured nose brushing against your clit, she smelled the scent of sex, your wetness—it was addicting.

Her chin was coated with a mix of her own saliva and your pussy juices. The sound of pornographic squelching, low groans and moans echoed through the cars exterior, you were so dripping wet she was sure she’d have to deep clean her car seat after this.

She grabbed your thighs, a rather harsh squeeze as she pushed you down onto her tongue, you began rutting your hips back and forth on her face, humping your cunt on it like a bitch in heat. It wasn’t long until you felt close, that knot form in your stomach, breathing getting heavier and moans going up an octave as your voice cracked. “Momo-nee, fuck…fuckfuckfuck— close, i’m fucking close.”

She spat on your cunt, “Yeah? cum for me, Y/N, keep moaning my name.” and you did as requested, vision turning white as you saw stars; eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body went into a slight spasm from your orgasm.

She helped you ride your high, seeing your face during orgasm and how pretty your back looked arched might’ve made her cum on the spot, untouched. “Gosh, you’re so pretty..” she pampered you with kisses all over your face and lips, tiny whiny giggles from the ticklish feeling leaving your lips.

Suddenly your face grew red and you avoided her gaze.

“Are you okay?” Momo’s eyebrows furrowed as she caressed your cheek, her eyes beady under the christmas moonlight. “I’m sorry if i pushed it, I…uhm.. we can pretend this never happened and I’ll—“

“No no, it’s okay. I liked it, a lot, It’s just…” you bit your lip out of hesitation “That was my first time with uhm.. a girl.”

Momo’s face grew red, she tried to speak up but only an exhale escaped her mouth, there was a moment of silence before you both giggled, “Come on, let’s go home before the girls think i drove you off a cliff or something.” She handed you your clothes and the blanket that was in the passenger before she jumped to the drivers seat, starting the engine and driving off while you got dressed in the back.

“I guess that chocolate really was useful after all.”

[mother-homunculus]

Punch me I bleed

sergei kravinoff x female reader

plot: for weeks there is silence between reader and sergei, he hasn't contacted her, and she can't reach him. She’s pissed. Especially when he suddenly shows up at her door, injured, and she has to patch him up again.

warning: none (a little blood, but not that much), fluff bc really want to write a “patch-him-up”-story ^^ It's cliché, but I needed that

word count: 2.6K

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, filling the quiet office with its monotonous sound. The clinic had closed hours ago, leaving the waiting room next door empty and dark, with only the faint scent of antiseptic and the occasional creak of the old building to accompany you.

Living on the outskirts of the city had its perks; most of the buildings nearby were uninhabited, the streets almost eerily empty after dark. You had chosen this place because the rent was cheap and you liked it quiet, but lately, solitude has felt more like isolation.

You sat at your desk in the small office, a steaming cup of coffee growing cold next to you as you pored over a stack of patient files. The work was trivial, the kind you usually delegate to your assistant during the day, but tonight it was the perfect distraction. From him. Sergei.

You hated how much it bothered you; you hated how your heart still leaped every time you thought of him. Every knock at the door, every unexpected sound, sent your heart racing with both hope and dread. The man was infuriating—intense, unpredictable, and utterly impossible to ignore. The last time you’d seen him, he’d kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. Then he disappeared.

You’d tried to convince yourself you didn’t care—that it was better this way.

You reached for another file, flipping it open. It belonged to Mrs. Harding’s aging tabby cat, Dave. His surgery last week had gone smoothly, and he was recovering well. As you jotted down notes and double-checked his medication dosage, you tried not to think about him.

It wasn’t working.

With a groan, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. You could still hear his voice in your head, that deep rumble that always sent shivers down your spine. You could see his smile, that predatory curve of his lips, equal parts charm and danger. No matter how much you told yourself it was over, a part of you still clung to the hope that he’d walk through your door and make everything right.

Your work wasn’t distracting enough, but you weren’t about to let your mind wander into dangerous territory. Not tonight. You shook your head, willing yourself to focus. “Get a grip,” you muttered under your breath, reaching for the next file in the stack. It was for a stray dog someone had brought in, a young mutt you’d patched up after it had been hit by a car.

Then, just as you were finishing the papers, a loud knock echoed through the quiet clinic. You froze, your pen hovering over the paper. It was almost midnight. For a moment, you wondered if you’d imagined it. But then it came again, sharper this time. Your stomach twisted. It was late—too late for visitors. Setting the pen down, you rose from your chair and made your way to the door.

The overhead light cast long, eerie shadows across the dimly lit hallway. You hesitated for just a moment before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Your breath hitched.

And there he was.

Sergei stood in the doorway, his broad frame nearly filling it. He looked as imposing as ever, his sharp features framed by his unruly dark hair. Despite the exhaustion on his face, his golden eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

But then you noticed the blood.

“Sergei,” you gasped, stepping aside to let him in.

He stumbled slightly as he crossed the threshold, his hand clutching his side. “I am... fine,” he said, though the strain in his voice told a different story.

“You are not,” you snapped, grabbing his arm to steady him. “What happened?”

“A hunt. It did not go as planned,” he replied vaguely, his lips twitching into what might have been a smirk if he weren’t clearly in pain.

“Clearly,” you muttered, but you didn’t bother pressing him for details. Instead, you guided him to one of the free chairs, your worry outweighing your anger—though only slightly.

“Sit. Don't move," you ordered as you hurried back into the treatment room to retrieve your emergency medical kit, which you seemed to use more on him than on your patients.

He obeyed without protest, sinking onto the chair with a low groan. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though every step cost him effort.

Upon your return, you found him slumped back against the cushions, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow yet steady. You knelt beside him, your hands already moving to unbutton his shirt. The fabric was sticky with blood, and you grimaced as you peeled it back to reveal a deep gash along his side.

“Can you take off your shirt?”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk despite the situation. “You could at least buy me dinner first.” His humor faded from his face, and with a quiet grunt, he shrugged out of the ruined fabric. A deep gash ran along his side, blood oozing sluggishly from the torn flesh. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it looked painful. You bit your lip, focusing on cleaning the wound, but the tension in the room was palpable.

“This isn’t fine, Sergei,” you muttered, grabbing a clean cloth to press against the wound.

He hissed at the contact, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. “I’ve had worse,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual bravado.

You ignored him, focusing on cleaning the wound in silence and dabbing at it with an antiseptic. His muscles tense beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away, his golden eyes fixed on you the entire time. Your hands moved with practiced precision, years of treating injured animals making the task almost second nature. But this wasn’t just any patient. This was Sergei, the man who had stolen your heart and then disappeared without a trace.

The silence between you was thick, charged with the tension that had always existed whenever you were together. However, tonight, it was mixed with something heavier—anger, frustration, and the lingering ache of his absence.

“Why are you here?” you asked quietly, not looking up from your work.

There was a pause, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “I had nowhere else to go.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, a mix of anger and sadness swelling in your chest.

“You didn’t think to call?” Your voice sharpened as you reached for the needle and thread to stitch him up.

“I was busy,” he replied, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant.

He hissed as you pressed a gauze pad against the cut, but he didn’t pull away. “The hunt took longer than expected.”

You paused, your hands trembling slightly as you looked up at him. “You could have sent a message. Something to let me know you were alive.”

He didn’t answer; his eyes were watching you as you worked.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. By the time you finished stitching him up and bandaging the wound, your hands were trembling—not from the task, but from the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

“There,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “You’re patched up. Now you can go back to wherever it is you’ve been hiding.”

“I did not want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” You echoed, incredulous. “Sergei, you disappeared without a word. Don’t you think I was already worried?”

He didn’t argue, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

By the time you finished stitching him up and bandaging the wound, your hands were trembling—not from the task, but from the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

You stood abruptly to put the unused things in the first aid kit while throwing the blood-stained items in the trash can. Meanwhile, Sergei put his shirt back on, or at least what was left of it. You take a white pill packet from one of the locked cabinets, open it, and take out two blisters, which you press into Sergei's hand.

“They help with the pain, but don't overdo it,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “You’re patched up. Now you can leave.”

He caught your wrist before you could move away again, his grip firm but not painful. “I did not mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Then why do you keep doing it?” You shot back, meeting his gaze. “You show up out of nowhere, you disappear without a word, and then you expect me to just… what? Patch you up and pretend everything’s fine?”

His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his golden eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite name. “You do not understand—”

“No, I don’t,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with anger. “But you’re here now, Sergei. You show up in the middle of the night, sitting here and bleeding on the floor. So spare me the excuses about how dangerous your life is.”

He didn’t flinch at your words. “I thought it was best,” he said. “For you.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling. “Well, you were wrong. You were probably thinking about what was best for you.”

“That is not fair,” he said, standing. His height and presence filled the small space between you, but you refused to back down.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it sure feels like I’m just your personal medic. You only show up when you need something, and then you disappear without a word and expect me to wait around for you.”

“I didn’t come here just for this,” he said quietly.

He stepped closer, his large hand reaching out to cup your face with a surprising gentleness. His palm was warm, rough against your skin, and you had to force yourself not to lean into his touch. But you forced yourself to hold firm. He leaned down, his lips hovering just over yours. You could feel the heat from him—the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

His jaw tightened, but then, softly, he said, “I came because I missed you.”

The words struck you deeply, leaving you breathless. You hated how much those words affected you.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you muttered, but your voice had lost its edge.

“I am not good at this,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “I am not good at... needing someone. But I need you.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the silence between you taut as a bowstring. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, as if it was peeling away every layer of anger and frustration you had built up over the last few weeks. His broad chest rose and fell with his labored breaths, but his focus never wavered.

“You think you can have everything, Sergei, but you only ever give me half of you. You can’t treat me like this. If you want me in your life, you have to let me in. Completely.”

“You speak as if I am strong enough to stay away from you,” he murmured, his voice husky, filled with unspoken longing.

For a moment, neither he nor you moved. Then, in an instant, he closed the gap between you, his movements swift and decisive. His lips crashed against yours.

It was not a kiss of apology. It was not a kiss of restraint. It was raw, desperate, and utterly consuming, as though he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every unresolved emotion, and every urgent longing into it. His hands gripped your waist, rough and possessive, as they dragged you against his body. You moaned as his tongue brushed against yours, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his grip on you tightening as though he was afraid you might pull away.

Your hands found their way to his chest, pressing against the firm, warm planes of muscle as you tried to ground yourself. But instead of pushing him away, your fingers curled into the fabric of his torn shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with just as much intensity. His lips were rough, demanding, but they softened as the kiss deepened, as though he couldn’t decide between devouring you and savoring you.

He growled low into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your entire body and sending a shiver down your spine. One of his hands slid from your waist to the small of your back, his palm pressing firmly as if to anchor you in place. The other tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further.

“Sergei,” you murmured against his lips, but it was not a protest.

His mouth moved from yours, trailing down your jawline to the sensitive spot just below your ear. His beard scraped lightly against your skin, the sensation both rough and tempting. He chuckled darkly, the sound low and dangerous, before his teeth grazed the column of your neck. The nip was sharp and teasing, enough to make you gasp, and he soothed the sting with a slow, deliberate kiss that had your fingers clutching at his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes darkened with lust but still burning with need. “You are my weakness,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire. “You drive me wild.” He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

You wanted to stay angry. You wanted to tell him that his alluring words were not enough. But the way he looked at you, the raw vulnerability in his voice… it was impossible to ignore.

“You’re infuriating,” you muttered, your hands still pressed against his chest.

His hands roamed your back, sliding under the hem of your shirt just enough for his rough fingertips to brush against your skin. The contrast between his rough hands and your softness made your pulse race, and you could not stop yourself from arching into him. His touch was possessive but tender, his lips mapping a trail of fire down your neck and back to your mouth.

“And you are irresistible,” he replied, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, but no less intense.

Your lips found him again. The kiss deepened almost immediately, and you could feel the tension in his body—the barely restrained control with which he was clinging.  His grip tightened, and he pulled you impossibly closer, as if he could not stand the idea of even an inch of space between you. You melted against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss grew more urgent. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the heat of his body against yours and the desperate way his lips claimed yours.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against yours. His hands lingered on your back, his thumb brushing circles against your skin as though he could not stop himself.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the conviction it had earlier. “Stop running away. Stop shutting me out.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He said simply, "I will do better," but his words carried a weight that made you want to believe him, even if you weren't quite ready to forgive him.

His lips brushed yours one last time, softer now and almost reverent, before his arms wrapped around you. For now, you allowed yourself to lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You weren’t ready to forgive him, not entirely. But as his lips pressed softly against your temple in a silent promise, you knew you couldn’t let go of him either.

[sammylkcho]

I have a jealous human seb request 👉👈, The highschool au is pretty cool maybe something with that? Or whatever u think works :)))

  ༷  ㅤ !    ﹢High School AU - Jealous, jealous   ִ     ੭

Did I end up creating an AU without realizing it? Yes. Am I now obsessed with human Seb and Y/N in these kinds of scenarios? definitely

Hope you like it, my dear anon! Btw, for the fans of Epic the Musical, I was inspired by certain scenes in the song Little Wolf heheh

Warnings/Notes: escena de pelea, golpes, physical insecurities, me inspiré en human painter en el Painter de Streamer AU, using pronuns she/her with Y/N (sorry :c)

You allowed yourself to lift your head from the desk as the bell rang, signaling the start of the first recess. At that precise moment, all your classmates sprang from their seats and bolted out of the room like wild animals, desperate to escape the classroom for even a second.

You waited until at least half of them had left to avoid being pushed and squeezed between their bodies just to get out yourself. After all, your entire group of friends was absent today, so there wasn’t anyone you were particularly waiting for.

“Get up. I don’t want the cafeteria to run out of empanadas,” Sebastian said.

You lazily glanced over your shoulder and saw him standing there, hands tucked into his sweater pockets, his messy, wavy black hair as unruly as ever, and his blue eyes sparkling with that peculiar glimmer they always seemed to have.

It had only been a few weeks since you’d started talking to him—or rather, since he started talking to you. It had surprised you when he chose to pair up with you for a group project, especially since your friend didn’t protest or complain about not doing the assignment together as you two usually planned.

And it just happened—you didn’t even know how you ended up getting closer to him. Once again, you were amazed that your social anxiety hadn’t caused you to say something stupid as it often did in so many situations.

A quick snap of fingers broke your trance, making you blink and focus on the tanned fingers in front of you.

You smiled and apologized before standing up to walk alongside him, leaving the classroom to head toward the place Sebastian’s stomach most desired: the cafeteria.

“How are your siblings?” you asked, trying to start a conversation to distract yourself from the overwhelming noise around you.

“They’re fine, though… my sister’s been annoying lately, and I have to be her poor victim. So unfair!” Sebastian complained, frowning dramatically.

His exaggerated gestures made you laugh. You always enjoyed hearing how he made every situation with his siblings seem over the top. There was never a dull story about them.

Hearing your laugh, Sebastian glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. A flush of warmth rushed to his cheeks, and his palms began to feel sweaty. He quickly looked away, pulling a childish face. Loverboy.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom for a moment. Don’t wait too long for me,” you said, stepping slightly away from his side.

He gave you a confused look for a moment before snapping out of it and flashing you a lazy smile, giving you a thumbs-up in approval.

“Just don’t take too long. I won’t promise to leave anything half-eaten,” he called out, raising his voice to make himself heard over the growing crowd of students in the courtyard.

You walked off with a small “uh-huh” in confirmation, heading straight for the bathrooms. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding it in until your bladder gave you a signal that if you didn’t go now, there’d be a bit of trouble.

It was no secret that the girls’ bathroom always had at least five people inside, most of them standing in front of the mirrors for at least ten minutes. Luckily, you only needed to take care of business and wash your hands before heading back out.

You recognized three girls from your class in there and two others who you guessed were a year or two ahead of you.

You’d always felt a bit uncomfortable around them, especially since some of them drooled over Sebastian and fit the classic “queen bee” stereotype. Honestly, you never liked them.

You entered the stall without any issues and finished up quickly before heading to the sinks to wash your hands.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you felt a twinge of self-consciousness as you took in your appearance. You felt uncomfortable with yourself. How could you even show up to school looking like this? How could you stand next to him when—

You shook your head quickly, pushing those intrusive thoughts aside as you hurriedly left the bathroom. You’d gotten better; you didn’t need to dwell on those things—at least not as much.

Your eyes widened as you stepped outside and saw the courtyard completely packed. It was almost impossible to make out individuals in the sea of students.

You began weaving through the crowd, narrowly dodging a small paper ball some boys had decided to use as a makeshift soccer ball.

Your eyes scanned every corner of the courtyard near the tables, searching for one specific person. It was challenging, considering almost everyone had black hair. But no matter—you’d find your favorite Chilean.

Your gaze landed on a head of snow-white hair, and a smile crept onto your face as you spotted Vincent Painter in the crowd. You knew full well that where Vincent was, Sebastian was sure to be close by.

You pushed your way through, tuning out the rest of the world as you zeroed in on those two specific people.

“Painter, Seb—” The words died in your throat in an instant, the air abruptly leaving your lungs as you felt a sudden force. A hand clamped down firmly on your shoulder.

A chill ran through your body from head to toe as your heart began pounding faster and faster. You forced yourself to relax enough to turn and see who had grabbed you like that.

“Clay.”

The name seemed to slip instantly from your lips as you turned to see who it was.

It might sound cliché to say it this way, but it was the number one bully, troublemaker, and overall pain in the ass for both students and teachers alike. Always bothering people in the most unpleasant ways just to have something to do—including you.

You’d struggled to turn him into background noise back in sophomore year. Every time a teacher publicly scolded you for being late or some other "important" issue, he was always there to rub it in, mocking you for every mistake.

"Busy?" he asked with fake interest, his hand still firmly gripping your shoulder.

"A little, yes, maybe. Actually doing something worthwhile, unlike some," you muttered the last part under your breath, quickly and quietly, cursing yourself a thousand times over the moment you realized what you'd said.

His grip on your shoulder seemed to tighten and grow more forceful. You’d struck a nerve.

"Why don’t you come hang out with me and my group for the rest of the break? We’re not as boring as some," he said, maintaining that same hypocritical tone.

His hand slid down until it rested around your shoulders, as if you were lifelong friends. The gesture made your skin crawl with disgust. You wanted to shove him away, to curse him out in every way possible, to give him the slap he’d deserved for ages.

Your mind screamed yes to all of those thoughts, but your body froze, paralyzed with fear of what might happen if you so much as moved an inch while he had his arm around you.

Your legs felt like they were bolted to the ground, refusing to respond to the demands your brain was frantically making. Even though no one else could clearly see it in that moment, it was humiliating.

"No, I’m busy—"

"Someone like you is never busy."

"SHIT, NO!" you yelled with all your strength. Before he could react, you jerked your shoulders forcefully, a sharp motion that broke his grip. You freed yourself and stepped back, your body trembling with pure adrenaline.

You exhaled all the air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, gasping desperately for the oxygen you’d been depriving yourself of. The suffocating feeling still lingered, especially after your outburst and the scene you’d unintentionally created in front of the other students.

The noisy schoolyard, which had been alive with chatter and laughter just moments ago, fell deathly silent at your shout. Those closest to you and Clay stood frozen, watching in stunned silence to see how the situation would unfold. Further back, murmurs started among the students, curious and uncertain about what had caused the commotion.

You looked at Clay, trembling, noticing how his muscles tensed and his eyes stayed locked on you, unyielding. Neither of you said anything, locked in a tense standoff, like a predator trying not to scare off its prey.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, the only sound being your heavy, shaky breaths if someone were to listen closely enough.

Then, you clearly saw his right hand—the same one that had been draped over your shoulders—rise aggressively toward you, giving you no time to react or process what was about to happen.

The blow landed hard and fast, a lightning strike of pain erupting like a volcano in your cheek and spreading through your entire head. Your vision blurred for a moment, a dull ringing filling your ears as the world around you tilted unsteadily.

You lost your balance, stumbling to the side. Your hands instinctively reached for the ground, but the force of the impact left your arms trembling under your weight. Your skin burned where his hand had struck, a searing sensation that seemed to etch the violence into your body.

"Stop acting like a wild animal toward me! You’re that guitarist’s lapdog, so act like it—"

His words were abruptly cut off when something struck him out of nowhere, silencing him mid-sentence.

You didn’t take the moment to lift your head and see what had happened; your mind was still struggling to process the words he’d just yelled at you.

“Who the hell threw a damn empanada at me?!” he roared, utterly agitated, his fury palpable from miles away.

“Who taught you to hit a woman like that?!”

A new voice broke into the scene, one you recognized instantly.

You wanted to lift your head, even just a little, but the wave of dizziness and trembling that overtook you made it almost impossible to move.

“Shh... Come on, get up slowly and carefully. Let me help you. That bruise looks nasty,” another voice said softly, this one closer to you.

They helped you up, letting you lean on them for support as you steadied yourself, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. Squinting, you tried to make out who it was, though you already knew.

“Painter… Seb’s—” you murmured weakly, trying to get him to stop the sudden impulsiveness of the other man.

“I know. That idiot’s trying to act tough,” Painter cut you off, rolling his eyes at the unfolding situation.

“You want to put on a show for the whole school? Fine, Solace! Let’s see how you handle this!”

Clay’s voice sent a shiver down your spine as you watched the scene play out in front of you.

Clay was advancing, his steps slow but deliberate. Sebastian instinctively stepped back, trying to keep some distance, his eyes locked on Clay’s movements, searching for any clue of his intentions.

But the gap between them was closing rapidly, the circle of onlookers around them seeming to shrink with every passing moment. Each step back was a concession, and each step forward from Clay was a reminder of who was in control.

“DON’T BE A COWARD!”

That shout rang out like the toll of a bell, marking the inevitable start of what was about to happen.

Clay lunged forward, his fist raised, ready to land a solid blow. As he closed the last few inches between them, he swung with brutal force, grabbing Sebastian roughly and shoving him back. The shove was so forceful it left Sebastian struggling to regain his balance.

Sebastian didn’t waste a second to catch his breath. He recovered immediately, ignoring his body’s cries for rest; there was no time for that now.

“Uppercut him. NOW” Painter shouted, almost as agitated as Sebastian himself at the sight of his friend fighting.

Without hesitation, Sebastian followed Painter’s instruction.

His fist shot upward with calculated precision, aiming for his attacker.

The sound of the impact was the only thing that could be heard in the courtyard—a crack that left more than a few eyes wide at the sheer violence of the scene. Clay’s jaw snapped upward with the force of the punch, sending him stumbling back, reeling from the sudden blow.

Clay forced his gaze back toward Sebastian, his face twisted into a deranged grin full of rage.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the furious voice of a new arrival shattered the overwhelming silence of the courtyard.

“Solace and Torres! I want both of you in my office NOW!” bellowed the principal, his uncontrolled fury directed at the two named offenders.

. . . . . . . . . .

“That was stupid.”

Silence.

“Impulsive. Way too impulsive.”

Silence.

“Something you’d never do. Especially getting involved in something like this.”

Silence.

“Did I mention how much of an idiot you were?” You tightened the bandage around his palm.

“Ow!” he hissed, wincing at the sting from your touch.

You shot him a glare, still struggling to understand why his foolish mind had decided to intervene and start a fight—especially one that escalated so violently.

He avoided your eyes, turning his head to the side, causing strands of his dark hair to fall across his forehead like a curtain, partially obscuring his vision.

You let out an audible sigh, one that sounded more like an exasperated groan than anything else.

Your hand was still holding Sebastian’s as you finished wrapping the bandage. Even though his palm had small, raw scrapes, his touch was warm and comforting. A part of you didn’t want to pull away.

“I just… I felt awful seeing him hit you, and I couldn’t do anything. You didn’t deserve that—especially not from a guy like him!” he muttered, pressing his other palm against his cheek in frustration.

He looked endearing like this, grumbling while trying to explain why he’d felt the need to protect you from someone like that.

“Don’t worry about it anymore, okay? I’m fine, and so are you,” you reassured him, offering a soft smile.

A faint hum, something like an “mmh,” escaped his lips.

You laughed a little more at his antics, catching a brief glimpse of crimson red coloring his cheeks. How cute.

[shapeshiftinterest]

present for @faithissmol

princess rosalina and princess daisy from mario

daisy's a witch and rosalina's her familiar

art reference used some colors from this comic

art reference i based rosalina's outfit on her cat power up version but with different ears (black with her star earrings as the inners) and added a collar

art reference i based daisy's outfit on rin kagamine's from the phantom thieves peter and jenny vocaloid song and added a witch hat

art reference the candy in the background is a square version from daisy's pumpkin outfit

[keikobubs]

Would you draw transfem!Abed perhaps?

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while because school has been kicking me repeatedly, but YES absolutely!! these were quite fun to draw ^_^

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[arolesbianism]

The Joshua section of my oni playlist is looking great so far

[soleilapproves]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[monstersflashlight]

Ma'am please i beg, something about a war hero virgin monster of any kind letting loose all his pent up desire on brothel madame reader... maybe stealing her away (or inviting all his comrades to join in hehe)

Hi anon! It turned a lot more sweet than expected, but I think it's pretty great. Hope you like it! <3

Orc x fem!reader

You tried to fuck him so many times before, he always came into the brothel and talked with you, but was never interested in your advances. Until one day, when he was drunk, he confessed he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint you being mediocre at it. You chuckled and he never talked about it again. That’s why it surprised you so much when before going to war, he promised you he’d be back for you. He would win and bring a victory to the clan, and then you’d be his price.

You knew you wanted him, you knew his promise would be what would make you pain and anguish until he came back, anticipation and dread filling you every day that passed and he didn’t appear. It was an insufferable torture to wait for him, to be there and direct everything, one eye always on the door to see if he crossed. One of your girls always at the door in case news arrived from the fort and he was dead. You pained, and waited…

And then a loud crash sounded in the main bar as you were doing some paperwork. You heard your nae being called so loud the walls vibrated with the force of it. It was all it took for you to know.

He was home. He won and he was there to conquer his price. He was there to conquer… you.

You exited your office at the same time he came barreling to get you. When he approached and threw you over his shoulder you barely made a sound, already prepared to give your everything to him. He carried you away between the whistles and excited rumble of all your girls and patrons. You wanted to chuckle, but the anticipation and pent up sexual desire was driving you insane, stopping you mustering any kind of sound.

He took you to his cabin at the edge of the town, not too far away from your brothel. He kicked the door open and walked right to his bedroom, he threw you over it and ordered you to strip. You did it without arguing, you were as ready for it as he was. He ripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving your body. The moment his erection sprung free you had to swallow a moan. He was so big. Way too big. You didn’t even know if he could fit inside, but you were nothing but an overachiever.

He looked at you for a long moment, but before you could say anything, he was over you, too eager and inexperienced, but his excitement covered for it. He kissed your breasts, your abdomen, and when he arrived to your pussy, you grabbed his hair hard and he stopped. You told him softly that you knew, and watched how his green face got darker because of his embarrassment. You smiled at him and told him to go slow, to enjoy it as he would of a nice dessert. And good goddess he did. He ate you out with abandon, not fine caress, not really any technique behind it, but he was so good, his tusks around your labia and your clit being sucked and licked. It was a low burn that turned you into a mess of babbling groans and moans.

He didn’t last long, though. Soon after, way before you were ready, he was covering your body and trying to fit inside. You shushed him and pushed him onto his back, attacking his mouth as you rubbed your dripping pussy over his huge green dick. He moaned, and you felt more of his precum making a mess out of both of you. It was exhilarating to have such a big monster under you, so desperate to get inside of you. It was like anything you’ve ever felt before.

You got his tip inside and felt how he shoot inside your pussy, way too soon, getting embarrassed by his eagerness. You chucked and assured him it was normal for a virgin to spill in the first moments. But he was still hard, so you continued even though he kept begging and saying it was too much. But he didn’t stop you. You lowered your hips until they were flushed against his pelvis, rolling them and crying out because of how good it felt. He came again, but didn’t go soft. You rode him like a savage, but it was still not enough, and soon after he was turning you and pushing you onto the mattress, fucking you like a piston as you moaned his name. You came three times, and he flooded you with his cum, kissing you at the same time, claiming you completely.

He claimed you. He claimed his prize.

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — FOUR TIMES MUALANI SUSPECTED SOMETHING WAS GOING ON (AND ONE TIME SHE WAS RIGHT)

pairing: kinich x reader

cw: no pronouns mentioned. ajaw is in a vacation. slight but not slight pda. mualani overreacting but she is a sweet. best friends trio. pyro vision reader mentioned. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Mualani knew Kinich and you were friends—close best friends, just like you two were with her—but lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. 

It started with little things, almost too subtle to be noticeable but somehow it didn’t escape from her perception. Things like how Kinich, ever the quiet guy, had begun lingering a little too long when he talked to you, or how you’d run all your way to the Scions of the Canopy's village just to welcome him back after a mission. 

At first, she didn’t pay too much attention thinking you guys were just being more affectionative and caring to each other. However, as time passed by, it has been shown to be more than a mutual friendly appreciation and certainly beyond a mere coincidence. 

I.

The first time Mualani noticed something different was in an early morning by the coast, watching the waves curl and crash. She often started her day stretching at the shore and riding the first waves of dawn. But this time, as she rounded a cliff, she spotted Kinich and you sitting on a rock overlooking the sea. The two of you were close enough that your arms brushed every time the wind picked up.

Kinich’s usual stern expression was softer than usual. Mualani squinted at you suspiciously. Were you... holding hands?

She jogged closer, but just as she got near enough to say something, Kinich quickly stood up, putting a considerable distance between you and himself. “You're up early,” he said, his voice in its usual calm.

You smiled warmly. “Hey girl! How are the waves? We were just discussing about it.”

Mualani tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You were? Really?”

You let out a light and confusing laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course.”

She didn’t quite buy it, but you didn’t give her any reason to push further. “Well, the waves are good today! You guys joining?”

Kinich only gave her a polite headshaking, while you nodded smiling. Maybe she was imagining things.

II.

Except she wasn’t. 

A few days later, you were hanging out by Tequemecan Valley' canyons with Kinich standing quietly while you and Mualani chatted. However, every time she glanced toward him, Kinich seemed to be watching you a little too intently. It wasn’t the usual hunter’s focus; it was softer, caring, almost like... adoring.

The girl squinted, pretending to be interested in some flowers nearby while keeping an eye on you two. You didn’t seem to notice anything, or if did, you didn’t mind. You just kept talking, your laughter filling the air.

When Mualani caught Kinich staring again, she couldn’t help but ask, “Kinich, you okay? You’ve been zoning out all day.”

He blinked, his neutral mask slipping back into place. “I’m fine.”

“He’s just tired from all the training,” you teased, winking at him.

Mualani raised an eyebrow, astonished by the scene before her eyes. Something was definitely going on.

III.

The third time came on a day when Mualani was guiding a group of Sumeru’s travelers near the springs when she spotted you and Kinich again, standing by the water. As she approached, she saw Kinich leaning down to whisper something to you, his lips close to your ear. You giggled softly in response.

Wait a minute... Kinich never whispers to anyone. Much less in such an intimate way and even less to make someone laugh. Mualani's instincts flared up immediately. What was he saying? And why did you look so happy about it?

She cleared her throat loudly as she walked up. “Hey. What are you two whispering about?”

Kinich straightened up quickly, crossing his arms. “Nothing important.”

You smiled at her, but there was a glimmer in your eyes that made the girl even more suspicious. “Just a silly joke,” you said lightly.

A joke, huh? Mualani filed it away in her mind. This time she was very determined to figure out what was going on between you two.

IV.

It was late afternoon, and Mualani had just finished surfing when she saw you two by the waterside. Kinich and you stood close, so close as it has strangely been, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn Kinich was about to lean in and kiss you.

She froze, watching from a distance as you smiled up at him, your palm softly pushing his chest away. Were you two really about to kiss? It couldn’t be just her angle view. Could it be?

But just as quickly as it happened, Kinich stepped back, his usual stoic demeanor falling back into place. You turned and waved at her, your smile as bright as ever.

“Lani. Hey! How was the surf?” you called out.

Mualani, still in shock, shook her head. “Uh... good. Really good.”

She stared at you both for a moment longer, convinced she’d almost witnessed something, but there was no proof. Again.

V.

In the several days that followed, Mualani continued to witness that strangeness that kept repeating itself every time you thought she wasn’t around, creating a certain tension between her and you and Kinich—although she doubted that you had noticed any difference, treating her as you always did from the beginning.

Even if it relieved her to know that nothing had changed in your friendship, the surfer couldn't help but feel upset too. Was it that bad if she found out? Didn't you trust her the same way she trusted you? She wanted to be able to release all of her thoughts and ask you if maybe there was something in your bond that was bothering you. But she didn't. And so, things remained the same.

That was a quiet evening, and the moon hung low over the mountains. Mualani had been taking a stroll, enjoying the peaceful night, when she stumbled upon you.

This time, though, there was no mistaking it—Kinich and you stood together under some trees, locked in a slow, deep kiss.

The girl’s cheeks burned as red as the pyro vision you hold so dear closely, eyes widely opening and heart skipping a beat. She gasped, louder than she intended, and both of you quickly turned toward her. You blinked twice before smiling stiffly, even daring to look a bit embarrassed, while Kinich gave her a calm look, his hands still resting on your waist.

“You two!” She exclaimed shaking her head, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier! I mean, I knew something was up, but really?”

You bit your lip while Kinich just blinked at her, slightly starting to look more guilty as well.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you for long,” you said as you stepped out of Kinich’s arms and reached for her hand. “We were just... taking our time.”

Mualani arched an eyebrow. “Taking your time? You two were being so weird and annoying with all those suspicious interactions for weeks now! I’m supposed to be your best friend!”

Kinich rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “We wanted to keep it quiet,” he said, his voice low. “At first, anyway.”

Mualani softened, her fake scold melting away into genuine affection. “Still, I would’ve loved to know sooner,” she said, her tone gentler now. “You know me better than anyone else. You know I would never judge you,” she sighed as she watches the sorrow on your face. “Nevertheless, I’m really happy for you both. Really am.”

You beamed and even Kinich’s usual stoic expression seemed to relax slightly.

Mualani continued, her voice full of warmth. “I’ve always known you two had something special. And now that I know for sure, you better believe I’m fully on board with this!” She shot Kinich a playful look. “Just make sure you treat (Y/N) right, okay?”

Kinich nodded, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “I will.”

You squeezed Mualani’s hand, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and pure happiness. “Thank you, Lani. Your support means a lot to us.”

Mualani grinned, pulling you both into a tight hug. “Just don’t keep secrets from me again, alright? I’m always here for you two.”

You all laughed but shared a quick but sweet bond moment, the atmosphere light and easy. And somehow, Mualani couldn’t help but feel like everything had fallen into place just the way it was meant to.

“But just for your information. If the day comes of you get engaged and don’t tell me immediately, I’ll crash the proposal myself, make a huge scene, and tell everyone how long I’ve had to put up with your not so secret glances and not so subtle hand-holding. Trust me, it won’t be pretty!”

[venmondiese]

LITTLE BOX FULL OF SURPRISES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

based on this request⭑.ᐟ

-ˋˏsummary: The maimed one-eyed prince marries the most beautiful woman on earth. She is dutiful, beautiful and perfect, but Aemond can't stand when someone, specially his uncle, look with desire at what it is his. ✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original Female Character ✧word count: 3.1k ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones, face slapping, spitting on the mouth, degradation kink, possesive Aemond, Aemond is WHIPPED by his wife.

Every time his grandsire and his mother spoke of a Lady of great beauty coming to King’s landing, he rolled his eye. 

Even when they present a small portrait, small to fit his palm, he does not seem impressed. Perhaps it is too small, perhaps it is too pretentious. Either the painter exaggerated your features or he couldn’t properly paint a small portrait. But he was curious, after all. Named the most beautiful woman on earth, blessed by the Gods. 

He doesn’t doubt that Lady Tully was beautiful. Perhaps she was truly a beautiful woman, with her long red hair, ‘like fire’ said the letter. But being called The Maiden on Earth seems exaggerated to him.

His grandsire had told them about the implications of his betrothal, about how important it was to have secured the Riverlands, since Grover Tully was an old lord, and will not understand reason. To have his most beloved granddaughter as a princess, was the only way to win his approval, and support. 

Aemond finally meets her on the little garden near the Weirwood tree. They had been serving little cakes, as some lords and ladies talked nearby, not even half of court was here, and he liked the quietness. That made him less self-conscious.

She was near the table, her hand hovering above all the treats she could get, smiling as she watches them with interest. She is expressive, he realises. He hasn’t seen her face, only her back and the day her hand moves and her head is tilted, curious about the southern gastronomy.

 “My lady” Aemond says softly. 

She turns so gracefully, and she is surprised to see him. Her hand still extended, and she quickly moves it to grab her skirts, and do a courtesy to him. She has a sweet smile, and she speaks. 

 “My prince” she says, a bit surprised. “I… I didn’t expect you.”

“I must admit I came a bit earlier than agreed…” he murmurs, looking behind him and then back to her.

The most beautiful maiden on earth fell short to her. She was… something else, in the best way possible. She had that curiosity, that life in her eyes, as she smiles at him, her lips are perfect, and he could see that her maids probably used those Myrish lip taints, for they were a very natural red colour, almost matching with her hair. Her dress was magnificent, wearing the colour of her house, red and blue decorating everything. Even her eyes, blue like the opaque blue rivers in the Riverlands, and her hair, red like flames, matched with her house colours. She wore fish details, her earrings and in her dress pattern. But she was wearing a collar with a seven pointed star in it, and he sighed at her beauty. She was breathtaking.

“Oh, well, so it seems…” she says as she smiles a bit sheepishly, looking at him. “It’s a fine castle, my prince. It does have its own beauty.” 

Aemond has never thought of the red Keep as something beautiful, at all. He always wanted to live in Dragonstone, but his wish was not granted.  But, if she says so, it must be true, and with good reason.

“You think so?” 

She grabs a lemon cake, and eats it carefully as she nods. “Yes! And you also have a Weirwood tree here. When we made our trip here, we passed through Raventree, and their Weirwood was a bit… depressing…” she says, smiling sweetly. “But here it’s very beautiful. More… alive”

As she talks, he watches her closely. Even when his mother, his sickly father and his siblings arrive, when his mother gives him a scolding look for arriving earlier, he sort of watches you in silence, his chest swelling with an air of mystery. 

“You are not what I expected” he admits, quietly between the two of them as their parents talked about the betrothal.

“No?” She asks smiling, licking her finger from the cream of the lemon cakes. “You’ll see I’m a little box full of surprises” 

That’s the beginning.

A ceremony on the Sept, as she stood next to him, reciting vows and the cloak with dragon sigils is on her shoulders, left behind the fish one. Aemond has never looked so smug and proud. The bedding ceremony was… traditional. Having a crowd was awkward for both, surely, but Aemond made it all more comfortable for her, covering her body with his, and not exposing her, at his own expense.

“Just focus on me” He murmurs closely to her face, as she looks at him with wide eyes. He was between her open legs, and he insisted for her to keep her chemise on, while he had no problem in nudity “Your septa and mother could have told you…”

“Not much” She whispers back.

“Not much” he repeats, moving a strand of hair out other face, tenderly watching her face for discomfort. “But I will be gentle, and… we’ll learn together. Yes?”

“Yes. Thank you…, husband” she says, and he feels a prideful pressure on his chest. He was her husband. The most beautiful woman’s husband. 

And she was always thankful for his patience and gentleness towards her, and she stuck to him to all times, even when she was in court, charming everyone around. Her arm was always interlocked with his, and referred to him as ‘her sweet husband’. 

Love came quieter than expected, as they laughed on their bed at nights, having picnics in the gardens or going to the Riverlands in Vhagar together, swimming on Riverrun’s rivers, and just… enjoying each other. It was more than love when they had their first son, a lovely and happy baby, mismatched eyes, with both purple and a deep blue. Aemond adored his son, his little Daerion, and he adored you more.

“Black looks well on you” Aemond comments. 

Daerion’s blabbing was a way to agree with Aemond’s statement as the maid finished putting on her headband, the same tone of her dress. Her orange hair is in braids, two simple ones with some gold details on them, and some dragon earrings that he gifted her. She was gorgeous, and all his. 

“Your wardrobe hasn’t changed” she states looking at him. “Went from velvet black to dark black” 

Aemond walks over to his wife, watching her being just so beautiful like that, sitting, waiting peacefully like a porcelain doll.

“Mhm... As if changing colours would make everything amicable…” Aemond murmurs, taking Daerion in his arms, and he allows him to play with his hair. “Does father know it’s useless? Rhaenyra wearing green won’t change anything, nor will my mother wearing black. HIs voice comes as a grunt as he bounces their baby. 

“It’s foolish when you put it that way” her voice is tender, sweet, and somewhat like velvet. He is still besotted by her, as maidens do with knights. He watches the shape of her breasts on that dress, how the cleavage is so delightful for his eyes and the roundness of her tits that make the fabric around stretch a bit. As if the tailor always got the measurement of her chest wrong on purpose, which he won’t complain about. 

Her bright red hair contrasts with how the black makes her skin look paler, and her eye colour deeper.

“They shouldn’t call you the Maiden herself anymore” Aemond murmurs softly, walking closer to her, still holding Daerion in his arms. “You are like the mother herself. Like the Goddess Syrax of Old Valyria. Beautiful, strong… so alluring…”

“You never seem to run out of compliments” her hands move to grab her rings, and the one he likes the most is the sapphire one, just to symbolise her marriage to him. 

“Never, more so if a goddess like you is my wife. All mine…”

“My prince, my lady.” It’s a Kings guard who interrupts. “Supper is ready, and Queen Alicent asks for you both to arrive earlier…”

“Hm” Aemond says, leaving Daerion in the wet nurse’s arms.

“Thank you, ser Willis” the knight smiles at his wife before walking to wait outside the door.

He rolls his eye as he leans to kiss his son’s forehead, caressing his chubby cheek and he smiles fondly at his sight. The little freckles he has that he inherited from his mother, something that Aemond loved. Yet remembering how unnecessary kind his wife is… annoys him.

Kindness and sweetness only helped to enhance her beauty and popularity, and he also loved that. She was beautiful, perfect in any way, tied to a One-Eyed maimed monster, like him. All he could offer to you, that it was worthy, was the luxuries of the royalty, all the kids you want and his unconditional love. He was at your mercy.

He has one eye, but he is not blind. Any man here on the keep, would pull their breeches down if his wife asked so. They would even cut their own throats for her mere delight, and Aemond would be one of them. 

“Goodbye, my sweet love” the sweet motherly tone makes little Daerion squeal happily, extending his little arms for his mother. She kisses both his hands, later to wave to him as they leave the room, arms interlocked.

Aemond always bites his tongue when his lady wife is kind to men. He hates it, yet he knows she does it for the kindness of her heart, and not any ulterior motives.

He was smitten for her, moving the chair for her to sit, and helping her, her dress not getting stuck anywhere or her headpiece, and only then, he sat on his own seat at peace.

“I heard they might have some goose” she murmurs to him, as the room fills. Her fingers caress his arm, and he hears her every word. “I’d eat it all if I could, you know” she teases.

“Mhm.” Aemond murmurs. Even if he is besotted, his facade is still the same; stoic, cold, distant. Yet to her, his gaze was always loving.

“I would only share it with you” she states proudly, leaning to give him a peck on the lips, before standing up once the King is brought to the room.

As he stands, he doesn’t miss how his uncle watches her. Aemond might not know the man personally, but he knew the look of desire in a man’s face. Much more when they looked at her 

The supper is mostly… tense, and awkward. But Lady Tully is charming to everyone and even toasts as well for Baela and Rhaena in their betrothal, congratulating them and speaking nothing but wonders about her own married life, making Aemond wear the slightest, yet most smug smirk on his face.

“Amazing” she says, with her mouth full as she eats the goose, and Aemond nods, a hand rubbing her back so she doesn’t choke for eating so quickly. “Here, my love” she says, extending the fork with a bit of the goose that she adores so much. 

Aemond eats shamelessly, enjoying the taste as he nods softly, approving, which makes her smile. His hand resting on the back of her chair, as he drank his wine quietly, watching his sister and nephew go to dance together. He is highly unaware of the prying eyes that watch them both.

Helaena and Jacaerys’ giggles and the movement of her dress is enough for lady Tully to watch curiously. Her husband was not one for dances, as he had not a good perception of objects with one eye. She never pressured him, and accepted the fact. 

She always would say how Daerion once he would be tall enough to walk, she’d dance with her son all the songs and dances, and Aemond approved that idea. 

“Lady Tully” It was Daemon Targaryen’s deep voice, and she looks at him a bit surprised, leaving her fork on the table as she covers her mouth, her hand unconsciously fetching wine, which Aemond hands her his. 

“Prince Daemon” her melodic voice is a bit confused, and more so when the uncle of her husband extends his hand. The green fabrics from his suit are deep, yet he still wore dragon details on it, and he looked smug about it.

She turns to watch Aemond, his jaw tensing as he looks at Daemon. And he has to physically stop himself from cutting his uncle’s throat when his wife walks with him to join Helaena and the bastard. Aegon and he share a look, both upset and annoyed, as their wives are so freely dancing with other men. 

Aemond watches her beautiful face, frowning as Daemon talks about something, whispering it closely so no one else hears it. His grip on the edge of his seat is strong; knuckles’ turning white as his jaw is tense, not looking pleased at all. And then, he hears her warm laugh, giggling at what he said, as her whole face brightened up.

Once they serve the pig in front of him and hear the little bastard giggles, it is enough to send him through a fit of rage. 

He literally drags his wife by the arm after everything went downhill, after saying that stupid toast, after the Velaryon’s boys attempt to defend themselves (very badly) and both her husband and her good brother humiliate them.

“Dancing with him” Aemond murmurs, walking to their shared chambers, not minding seeing the servants stop and look at them both. “Accepting it, and giggling to his jokes as he shamelessly flirts with you” 

“It was politeness...” her voice is weak when protesting.

“Did he mocked me for having only one eye?” He asks roughly. “Did he told you how beautiful your are and how full your breasts are?”

She opens her mouth a bit taken aback by his lewds remarks. “I am dutiful to what it’s expected of me. I wouldn't have allowed him to mock you”

“You should…”

“My family’s words are Family. Duty. Honour. And you know I care for that very deeply.” she says as she tries to keep up with his long steps “And I did just what was asked…”

“You are mine” he states, walking inside his chambers as his grip does nothing but become stronger. “My wife and you are… putting yourself in display for my uncle, laughing at his flirting. I know your family words are important for you, but this is… beyond that”

Perhaps it was her confused eyes or her angelic face, but he loosened up his grip yet he kept talking. 

“He wanted you! To have you below him and fuck you like a… wench or… or some kind of…”

“I know” 

Aemond turns drastically, eye twitching at his wife's words.

“You knew?”

“It was being cordial. It was duty. To amend broken ties…”

“I will break and burn and turn into ashes any ties from you to him” he says exasperated, insane with jealousy. His eye is wide, twitching in rage as he cannot believe this. She was his wife. 

Seeing Daemon’s hand grip on her hip, almost groping her, made him insane. Because he knew that Lady Tully, beautiful as the Maiden, a beloved goddess amongst the poor and rich, could do so much better than him. Yet, she still chooses him.

“Get naked” he says simply.

“What?”

“You heard me just right. Get. Naked.” He says again, not wanting a negative. 

Her whine is endearing, as she starts taking off little by little. Her gown, the diminutive buttons at the back, her collar, and her hellish headpiece.

“Let me” he grumbles as he helps her take off the headpiece, tossing it aside more carefully.

She is possibly the most beautiful when she is naked. Round breasts, even fuller thanks to lactating, and her body was tempting enough to anyone. 

“Undress me” he says instead. He took delight when she was the one serving him, in this way. He loved to see her desperation, her eagerness for him. His jerkin is out in no time, and she kneels to undo his breeches.

Because she had an angelic face, but it was only he who knew how obsessed she was with his cock. She could spend hours lying on the bed, sucking his cock as she rested her head on his abdomen as Aemond read. She wouldn’t even suck him off properly, his wife would only suck the tip, give kitten licks, and lazily press some kisses. During hours and hours. 

“I forbid you to speak to any one of them. Ever again” 

Confused eyes turned up to look at him, as the careful hands undid his breeches, almost a bit eagerly. “Forbid?”

“Hm. It’s what I said, is it not?” He says, narrowing his eye as if asking to be defied. 

“But it’s mad” she protests, frowning. “I promised Jace and Baela a tour in the gardens, and it would be impolite if I didn’t spoke-”

“Too bad” his voice cuts the conversation, and he is not leaving it up for conversation. 

“You are being irrational...”

“And you are being a fucking brat” he spats, grabbing her chin as he bites his lower lip. “I’ll show you how irrational I can get”

Her eyes watched him, almost too innocent for her own good. It made him hard; he could feel his cock stirring on his untied breeches. 

“Fucking slut, giving yourself to other men” his tone is harsh, but by the way her knees move, to accommodate the weight as he grips her chin, he knows that she is aroused. So is he.

Lady Tully was beautiful, and a box of surprises with everything, he realised with time. He had everyone trapped under her charms, and kept her secrets very private. And he loved it.

“Whore.”  His hand leaves her chin, only to move it to slap her across the face. 

She gasps, her face turned. It wasn’t harsh, yet the sting was burning on her skin, as she placed a hand on her cheek. To foreign eyes, he just slapped his wife. But he has done it before, to her request. Aemond knew that if his wife was enraged by that, he would have been beaten over and over, because she was kind, but didn’t stand for people dishonouring her. 

Aemond, more gently places his hand back on her chin, pulling it so she can look at him. “You will learn your place” Aemond says, as she looks up at him, with those meek eyes of hers. He loved her eyes. “Open your mouth”

 He leaned down, his mouth opening over hers, so near that she could feel his hot breath. His hand goes to wrap the bright red hair of hers, and his firm grip got her head secured. 

Perhaps Aemond would kiss those perfect lips, yet he pulled back and released a strand of saliva directly into her waiting mouth. Aemond’s fingers tightened the grip in her hair, as his other hand came up to wipe away the excess of spit. 

“There is my good girl” he murmurs, looking at her. “Mhm. I’m going to teach you a lesson” 

Aemond lifts his wife to her feet as if she weighs nothing, his grip on her hair almost dragging her to the bed, forcefully as he heard her little whines. He had a moment or two to decide which position suited best, for then to grab her hips and guide her to be on her hands and knees. He grabs the long red hair once again, angling her head to the side, because Aemond needed to see her face the same way he needed air.

She was soaking wet, and that is a satisfaction for her husband. Aemond accommodated behind her, watching her body as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

 “Such a sweet little cunt” he growls, his eye flashing with lust and desire as he thrusts into her from behind, in one swift motion. 

Her whimpers and pants are loud, as she grips on the sheets as her back is arched. She was desperate to be filled and fucked, not something unusual. The unusual thing was that… nothing happened.

“Aemond” She whines, moving her head to watch him from above her shoulder. She had that desperate, pitiful appearance that he loved.

“Yes, my love?” He asks almost nonchalantly, watching her ass, and how his cock is fully sank inside her 

She can barely think straight as his dick is deep inside her, throbbing in her walls as she just needs him to start fucking her. “Eh… move?”

“I don’t think so” he murmurs, his hand moving to caress her ass to his liking. “You’ll have to fuck yourself on my cock” His wife opens her mouth, confused as her eyebrows frown in hesitation. “Show me how much you need me” he says simply, he was fucking teasing her. “How much you need my cock”

Feeling the thick length of Aemond’s cock inside her, she accommodates on her hands, slowly moving away just to sink down onto his cock again. Her slick walls gripping him tightly as she impales herself on his thick cock. 

“Aemond… Fu-uck, you feel… oh, yes…” She whimpers, and her voice is filled with pleasure as her pussy starts getting pounded as she liked so much. If Lady Tully liked something in life, was probably getting fucked until her mind is mush.  

Her hips start moving on their own accord, as she grips on the sheets, trying to keep a stable posture to move her hips better, as her moans are obscenely loud, trying to get his cock deeper and deeper. Aemond leaves a groan, watching how she sinks down on his cock, and it is an image that would make any man cum in seconds. He truly was the luckiest man ever. 

He feels the fire in his stomach tighten, as her moans grew more and more delighted to the feeling of his cock pounding into her. At first, she had thought of it as promiscuous, and asked the maiden for forgiveness, but gods damn her if it wasn’t the best thing in life to get a good fuck from the love of her life.

“So responsive when getting a cock in your needy pussy” Aemond mutters, as one of his hands raises to spank her ass, the sharp slap only serves for the sounds coming out of her mouth to increase, and he spanks her again, and again, and again, to his own amusement and delight. 

“Please, Aemond…” 

“You just love misbehaving with me, because you know I will put you in your place” he says, moving forward to her body to grip his hair with his right hand, his left goes right next to her hand gripping the sheets to hold his weight. “Because you are a needy whore” he states, gripping her hair as she nods forcefully. 

“Yes” she says, in that whiny tone of hers. He knows her reactions yet every time they aroused him even more. “Yes, please”

The grip on her hair only serves to help him push her back against his cock, his hips now making the effort to start properly pounding into her cunt as she loved; hard, rough and at a deliciously good pace. Her body is practically numb as he starts to use her body for his own pleasure, just as she loved.

Who would have said that the most beautiful woman on earth loved being used by her husband? Definitely not him. She was the most perfect creature, in any way. Smart, funny, pretty, a good wife and mother. And yet she always craved his cock, like the filthiest whores of Flea Bottom. 

“Let those bastards hear you, hm?” He asks, as he leans to speak lowly near her ear. “How it’s your husband who pleases you. Perhaps my uncle will get the notion that you are mine. Only mine. Fucking mine. That fucking dodderer will die by my hand if he ever dares to lay his eyes on you” 

The mere thought infuriates him, making his hips slam into her harder and more feral. Rutting into her cunt in an animalistic pace as he has to clench his jaw in rage. His hand on her hair and the other on her waist, he groans at the feeling of her soaking cunt. 

The sobs he hears as his cock keeps on pounding into her sweet spot, makes him smug enough, and even more aroused. His sweet lady wife, so prone to cry when she had too much pleasure when she got overwhelmed with lust. 

“Please, please…” the round of pleas comes up with her tears, and Aemond moans, shamelessly, as he was so close. “I can’t t-take i-it… anymo-ore” 

“Oh, you will” he says through gritted teeth as he lets go of her hair, only for his other hand to go to her shoulder to help her get his dick deeper. “I will breed you. Cum so deep that my seed takes root, and everyone will know who you belong to.” 

Her nods between sobs, pleas and trembling legs help him pound in feral thrusts into her, feeling her cunt already milking him, inner walls attempting to squeeze his dick inside and never let it go.

“Cum for me, my love” he murmurs, still fucking her deep and nice how she likes it. “My beautiful wife” he murmurs, besotted by her as she cries, her tears rolling down her rosy cheeks with little freckles that he adored. 

The little spasms of her body, her wails and the way her cunt squeezes him, it’s enough to drive him to the edge, holding her body down into his cock as he moans loudly, rolling his eye back in pleasure as he cums hard. She whimpers, whining a bit as his seed just keeps on filling her, his balls tensing up as his grip will probably leave her delicate skin with red marks.

He is caring afterwards, as he cleans her with a towel, or when he places her in bed and covers her, lying by her side each time as she snuggles to him.

“You have to know–” she says softly, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “You are hot when jealous”

Aemond huffs, grumbling about it a bit as he seems reluctant. It amuses her.

“You always find me hot, I could be… Killing a chicken and you would be leaking”

“Get on my place for a moment, please, just imagine how your muscles would flex” she says dead serious and he rolls his eye amused, as the corners of his lips gives him away.

The fixation on his hair would be a problem if he didn’t love her so much. Aemond allows his lady Tully to braid it as they talk in bed. 

“I didn’t really mean it” he says softly. 

“Hm?” She asks curious, her fingers working on a single small braid on his hair.

“You can talk to them” he says through gritted teeth. “Just-... not too much”

Her little laugh warms his heart. “Very well” she says amused. “For each sentence I say to them, I will suck you”

“I retract myself, talk to them very much, all you like” he says, and it has her giggling. “You know I love you…” he says; as it comes into his view her concentrated face, her tongue coming out of her pink lips as she was focused. He could see the freckles that he so adored, and her pretty eyes. How he loved her.

“You know I love you more…” she says fixing his braid to stick to his hair. Her mouth forms a pleased smile as she sits, as she inspects her work. “Yes. Seems pretty nice”

He could feel the hair strand tight, and he moved his hand to touch his head. “What in the Seven Hells you did to my hair, woman?” 

She looks very pleased as she giggles, her body accommodating against his chest as she shrugs innocently, as he keeps on playfully trying to decipher what his wife did to his hair. 

[kirammanswoman]

—and they were roommates

part 1

masterlist

hockey!ellie hockey!vi hockey!abby x figureskater! reader

college au! fluff and humor! (for now heh)

synopsis: you were just trying to find a new roommate. how bad could it be if you lived with the university’s most popular hockey trio notorious for breaking score boards and breaking beds (n backs) too?

warning: they’re fuckin dumb asses who wont stop bickering. lots of [friendly] insults. bigbrother!jesse x reader as well, bestfriend!dina x reader too. oh, shirtless vi. this is completely self indulgent :p this is unedited

a/n: THIS IS MY FIRST WORK BACK ON TUMBLR AFTER THREE YEARS PLEASE BE NICE!! anyway, i cannot shake this trio out of my fantasies, so here ya go ya (fellow) filthy animals. merry xmas

———

“Okay well what the fuck do we do now?”

“Don’t you think we’re tryna figure that out you pink dumbfuck?”

“Oh man well sue me for fuckin’ caring—“

“Enough of you both you fucking numbskulls.”

The trio was sitting in their living room, the faint sound of the hockey sports broadcast in the background of their bickering. The brunette, the blonde, and the dyed pinkette have been going at it for an hour now. Abby, the buff blonde in a long sleeve herschel, stood up with her arms crossed and paced around the living room.

“We’ll find a new roommate who’ll cover the rent. Another hockey player so it’d be easier for all of us since they’d be familiar with our lifestyle." The hockey captain said; her judgement was always logical and well thought-out. Abby looked at her other two roommates, who also happen to be her best friends, her dumbass best friends as she liked to call them, as they both slowly nodded.

Their former roommate, Jordan, made the executive decision to move out without a warning. She claimed that it was a personal emergency, and she had to move to a new place right away. It was bullshit. Jordan moved out to move in with another group of friends, and left the three of them in a dilemma for how they were gonna cover the hefty rent.

“So we just ask around from the team?” Ellie, the brunette in her usual hoodie asked, kicking her slippered-feet up on the coffee table. “Who else needs a place? Rowan? Quinn?” she added.

“Rowan moved in with her best friend and Quinn already has a roommate, she dorms.” Violet, or Vi as she goes by said. Her full back tattoo was on display due to her sports bra exposing it, small segments of pink dye were stained on the white fabric.

“And how exactly do you know this?” Abby asked, an eyebrow quirked up with a small smirk creeping up on her lips as she knew what Vi’s answer was gonna be. Vi did nothing but shrug and smile.

“You fucking animal!” Ellie barked out a laugh and threw one of the pillows from the couch, aiming square for Vi’s face. Vi caught the pillow before it could smack her, throwing it back to Ellie.

“Watch the face you twat. Plus, it was one time and I was drunk when I was with both of them.” Vi said, as if it was the norm for her.

Abby’s eyes widened “Both? Vi did you hit at the same time—“

“No! Hey, I like to sleep around okay but damn I’m not a fuckin machine.” The pink haired girl defended herself, her arms flying up in innocence, but the smile on her face failed to be on her side.

“Okay whatever you sex freak— here’s what I’m gonna do.” Abby said, walking back to sit on the couch. “I’ll make a flyer for new roommates and put it on the news cork in the locker room. I’ll put my email there and tell ‘em to contact me if they’re interested.”

“Will that work? I mean who the fuck’ll see that?” Ellie asked, her face contorting to an expression of disagreement.

“Do you asshats have a better idea?” Abby deadpans, clearly tired and irritated from the whole situation.

“I’m cool with it.” Vi said, laying down completely on the couch and watching the game on the screen.

Abby looks at Ellie, and raises her brows. “Okay, shit, fine. How will we cover rent for this month though?” Ellie asks, her arms crossing over her chest.

“I’ll ask my dad.” Abby said, taking her phone out to shoot her world-class neurosurgeon father a quick text to send her some money for rent.

Ellie and Vi snickered. “Daddy’s little girl” they sang in the most annoying, ear piercing, voice as Abby was typing.

“Fine. Be homeless and broke. I’m moving out too.”

“NO WAIT—“

———

Ow. Ow. Fuck. Ouch. Fuckin— Son of a bitch—

Were the only words flowing through your head as you walked, no— limped— to the locker room. Practice with Coach Medarda had been excruciatingly long and painful the past few weeks, her demanding voice was still reverberating through your skull. Your head was pounding. Your feet were pounding. Your legs were numb, and not in a good way either. You made it to the locker room, and basically slumped on the bench. As you lay there replaying your whole routine for the billionth time in your head, footsteps were coming down from the hallway entrance.

“She beat you black and blue huh?” A pretty girl with black hair in a bun asked, leaning against the locker.

“Dina. I can’t feel my fucking legs. My ass too.” You said to your best friend, as she laughed and sat by your head.

“Up.” she said, patting the top of your head, as you lifted it up and laid on her thigh. “You did good. I was watching. Your triple axel was hella good— hey are these my leggings?” She asked, looking at your sprawled out legs.

“I— no.” you lied through your teeth. “Okay yes but listen! You were the one who moved out of our dorm and moved in with my fucking brother—“

“You mean my boyfriend? Jesse? Who also happens to be your brother?” she laughs, stroking your head.

“What-thefuck-ever. You both better be locked the fuck in or I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you both for leaving me alone in the dorms.” you said as you crossed your arms, a fake scowl on your face.

“We are locked the fuck in. And speaking of fucking— he gives the best hea—“

“NO! D, shut the fuck up that’s my BROTHER!” you plugged your ears in and shut your eyes tightly, trying to stop your overactive mind from imagining what Dina could have possibly been referring to.

Dina laughs loudly, prying your arms away from your ears. “I’m messing with you!…sorta…anyway, he’s actually worried as fuck about you. He’s been asking me to help him find you better living arrangements. He doesn’t trust your dorm building. What a protective brother.”

“Believe me, I know. He calls me every time I have to walk alone at night back to that fuckass dorm. He’s hellbent on keeping me safe, since, y’know…” you trail off

“I do babe, I do.” Dina looks around the locker room, her eyes aimlessly wandering, until her brown eyes meet a neon green paper plastered on the middle of the cork board.

LOOKING FOR NEW ROOMMATES!

HOCKEY PLAYER IS A REQUIREMENT!!

CONTACT andersonAB@email.com NOW IF INTERESTED

“Hey babes?” Dina asked, her eyes not leaving the flyer. You hum in response.

“Would it be crazy if you do that?” She points to the flyer on the cork board.

You sit up, legs spread on either side of the bench as you squint to look at the paper. You turned to Dina, an eyebrow cocked up.

“Dina, do I look like a hockey player to you?” you scoff, as you get up to open your locker to get your duffle bag.

“No, you look like Miss Perfect on ice.” The familiar nickname made you smile. It was given to you by your brother to poke fun at you, but ended up being all too accurate. You were always on the top of your classes, and now currently doing one of the hardest honor majors in your university. You have a perfect 4.0 GPA, you’re in multiple orgs, on the dean's list, and not to mention, an extremely talented figure skater for the university. “..But since you are so perfect, you’ll be able to get a slot on their list!” Dina said, acting like it was the best idea ever.

“Dina, no. I do not wanna room with some fuckass stinky hockey players who probably have their place infested with sexually transmitted diseases.” You retort, slinging your bag on.

“Come on! Just try. Anderson right? Isn’t she the hockey captain? She’s rich as fuck babe, her place probably isn’t shitty. She lives with Ellie, you remember her?” She says while getting up.

“Ellie? You mean the one that you almost slept with last year—“ She cuts you off

“Yeah okay what the fuck happened to never bringing that up again” she grits through her teeth. “and yeah, her. Listen, she’s really cool. She’s actually super nice too, just give it a try!”

You scoffed and grimaced at the flyer. “No.”

Dina sighed and rolled her eyes. “Shoulda called you Miss Hardheaded. Oh! I have a date with your brother.” She smiled widely and headed out. “See ya later stink” she bid her goodbyes and gingerly walked off.

You were now left alone in the locker room, only having 10 minutes left before the herd of the women’s hockey team takes over the rink.

The flyer was staring at you as if it had eyes that were permanently glued to your body.

LOOKING FOR NEW ROOMMATES!

You read. You glared at the flyer as if it would give you an answer.

CONTACT andersonAB@email.com NOW IF INTERESTED

Something about it irritated you. Now that Dina had it implanted in your head, you couldn’t shake it off.

“Fuckin- ugh.” you cursed under your breath and pulled

out your phone.

Sent: 12:30 PM

To: andersonAB@email.com

From: name@email.com

Subject: Roommate Inquiry

Good Afternoon,

I saw on the locker room’s cork board that you were looking for roommates? I wanted to ask if that offer was still standing?

Dear God. What in the fuck were you getting into?

———

Sent: 2:00 PM

To: name@email.com

From: andersonAB@email.com

Re: Roommate Intrest

Hey (name)! Thank you for your interest! The offer still remains on the table :) If it is possible for you, can we meet tomorrow at the house @ 2:00? We can discuss all the details there.

Address: 1234 North Park St.

“TOLD YOU IT’D FUCKIN’ WORK!”

Abby’s voice rings around the house as storms in from the front door. Vi was passed out on the couch (shirtless and only in her boxers) and groaned when Abby screamed. Ellie was playing on the console while sitting on the floor.

“What fuckin work you loud ass pig?” she asked half assed, her eyes not leaving the screen.

“The roommate flyer— it worked.” Abby placed her keys and down on the counter and sat on the other couch. “Here— look at the email.” she held her phone out to Ellie, obstructing her view of the COD round (that she was gonna win) on the tv screen.

“Abby fuckin’ MOVE— oh you fucking asshole.” She cursed, as her character died after getting shot.

“You suck ass.” Vi sleepily laughed while still half asleep, her head turning toward the screen. She was laying on her stomach with a blanket thrown over her figure, stretching and yawing.

“We got a roommate yet or no?”

“Yeah, look.” Abby pointed the phone towards Vi, the email from the potential roommate hurting her eyes due to Abby’s brightness being all the way up.

“Christ, is the roommate Jesus himself? Why is this email giving let there be light— lower your brightness down.” Vi groaned and rubbed her eyes. Ellie laughed at her comment, and put the controller down and faced her roommate.

“She seems like a prissy bitch not gonna lie” Ellie shrugged and sipped on the can of Monster next to her. Vi made grabby hands towards it and Ellie handed it to her.

“What makes you say that?” Vi asked, and took a swing of the drink.

“Dunno. She texts like one”

“That’s because it’s a fucking email you dog.” Abby scowled at Ellie. “She’s coming by tomorrow by the way, at 2.”

“You gave her our address already?!” Vi’s gruff voice ripped through the air. “She could be a fucking creep for all we know!” she sat up, her shirtless figure not phasing the other two.

“Oh shut the fuck up. It’ll be fine.” Abby dismisses

“Vi, my Monster can you give—“

“No! she could be a literal creep!” Vi argued

“You literally sleep around so much and you don’t bat a fuckin eye on the girls that you hook up with!” Abby argued back

“Vi. My Monster—“

“That’s different Abs! I don’t stay at their places long term—“

“VIOLET MY FUCKING MONSTER!” Ellie raised her voice, sick of the bickering between her best friends.

The blonde and the shirtless pink looked at Ellie blankly. Vi handed the Monster back to Ellie, her eyes slightly wide.

“Thank you asshole. And fuckin’ relax. I think I actually know the chick.” Ellie said, sipping on the drink.

“Wait what? You do?” Abby shifted on the couch, her interest piqued.

“Yeah, I think she’s best friends with Dina. Dunno her personally. Still think she might be a prissy bitch.” Ellie said, starting another round of COD.

“Dina? The hot one with black hair?” Vi asked, lying back down.

“Yeah. She told me that her best friend is interested in a new place last night during our Bio lecture since I told her about the whole situation with Jordan.” Ellie said, her words blank as her mind was focused on the new game.

“Did she say anything else about her?” Abby asked, leaning back on the couch.

“Nah. Just that.” Ellie replied, shortly cursing to herself after bullets were coming towards her character’s way.

“Pfft. Watch her be a fuckin’ werido. Ugly one too. If she is, and my argument of sending her our address was a mistake, you each owe me fifty bucks.” she snickered and watched Ellie play.

Ugly huh? Oh, little did they know…

You were quite the fuckin’ opposite.

———

What the fuck does one wear to meet roommates?

A hoodie, PJs, a dress? In your case, none of the above. Practice with Coach Medarda was moved later, which made your practice end at 1:45 PM (you might have groan-yelled ‘FUCK’ so loud in your dorm, they might’ve kicked you out before you could move out) In any other case, a later practice would have been ideal since you have time to sleep in or get a productive morning done, but instead you have to meet your potential roommates in your training attire. You looked at yourself in the mirror, cursing yourself eternally as you realized what you got yourself into.

Your figure-hugging black flare leggings paired with the infamous baby pink Lululemon define jacket made you look at yourself in dread.

“You literally look so hot.” Dina’s voice was muffled through your phone speakers, as it was propped up against the locker room sink.

“Dina, they’re gonna see that I am, in fact, not a hockey player and reject me immediately.” you groaned. “Maybe I should just cancel?”

“No, cmon. Just try it. You’re meeting them soon after your practice right?”

“Yeah, fifteen fucking minutes after it ends— Oh I gotta go, Medarda’s gonna cut my legs off if I’m late”

With that, you leave for a long, grueling practice with your too-detail oriented coach.

How bad could practice be today?

Bad. It was bad.

You, however, had no time to complain. After Coach Medarda dismissed you, you rushed to your car and drove to the address on the email.

You don’t know why, but your heart was racing. Nerves were racing across your whole body, and you have no idea why. You weren’t usually like this, you were confident. You’d ace your debate speeches and presentations, hell, you easily made friends with the grumpy old cashier at the local grocery store named Dan. He calls you sweetheart for fuck’s sake. You shouldn’t be nervous…

right…?

You pull over to the driveway of the house. It was a rough ten minutes away from campus, and admittedly, the drive there was beautiful. Jackson always looked so beautiful during this time of year, lights decorating the trees and ornaments hanging from random branches. It’s like Christmas threw up.

The house was gorgeous, humble enough to fit a few college students but grand enough to make heads turn. You take a deep breath and leave your car, walking past the driveway and to the front door.

Ding-dong, the bell rang through.

“Coming!” you heard a muffled voice call on the other side.

A minute later, a pink haired girl with a white wife pleaser beater answered the door with a toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

“Canf I helpf you- oh, damn” the pink haired girl muffled out a greeting and suddenly paused, as she looked at you up and down with her blue eyes, her veiny hands supporting her weight by leaning on the door frame. You couldn’t help buy look at how her biceps bulged out. Goddamn.

“Hey, I’m (name), I was told to come here to discuss details of being a potential roommate?” You said so sweetly that it was intoxicating, the pink haired girl swore she felt electric shocks shoot up her spine.

“Oh, aha—“

Her eyes widened at your words, and before she could think, she hurriedly shut the door. You flinch ever so slightly at the sudden slam, and stood there, confused as fuck. You heard the heavy patter of feet running, and you swore you heard a faint scream. You couldn’t make up the words entirely but it sounded a lot like:

“GUYS SHES HERE AND GOD HELP ME SHE’S SO FUCKING PRETTY”

You laugh to yourself, not in humor, but in disbelief.

What the fuck did I get myself into?

a/n: i need to bite all of their biceps. anyway, do i continue this🙈??

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one. | Session two.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”