#i love that these were taken a few days apart

[tbaluver]

Have you ever heard of the belief where beauty marks are where your previous lover liked to kiss you in a past life? Could I request headcanons for the LaDS boys reaction to MC mentioning it?

Kisses From The Past- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff a/n: hihi my luv ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i apologize this took me SOO long !! this was such a cute req and it def had me looking for my beauty marks all over my body (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You two were cuddling on the couch when you innocently mentioned it. He’d think for a while, his blue orbs staring right back at you softly. He’d reminisce all your past lives that he’s traveled too for you. A gentle smile would tug at his lips as he thinks about all the kisses he’s done and the beauty marks you would have all over your body.

“Yes. It’s true,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your neck. His hands softly slip inside the hem of your shirt as he reminisces about the past.

He continues his kisses lower, softly pressing his lips to each of your beauty marks as if he’s connecting them while tracing the familiar path of your skin. Then he pulls back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You’re missing one here..but you have one here..” he murmurs, “Was someone here before me?”

You would have marks all over your body all day long with Xavier completely unaware that he was the one who marked that spot in the past.

Zayne:

When Zayne comes home and pulls you closer, you can’t help but bring it up to Zayne. He would think about it for a moment and softly shake his head, denying it. But his stance would shift the moment he sees your smile quickly turn into a pout.

“Well that’s not possible because...” he trails off, noticing the way your lips drop into a subtle frown. “I don’t need a beauty mark to remember where I loved to touch and kiss you in another lifetime.”

Although Zayne might not fully believe in the concept of past lives, a part of him believes that if it were true, he would find you again in the next one. Those memories and familiar feelings would definitely resurface, like an instinct in his soul that guides him back to you no matter how many lifetimes have passed.

Rafayel:

You would bring it up while he’s examining your face, looking for inspiration for his sculpture. The moment those words leave your lips, his face automatically lights up

He absolutely LOVES the belief that your beauty mark is a place where your previous lover loved to kiss you in your past life. To him it means that you’ve always been connected even when life pulls you two apart again. You two were meant for each other in every life and he will always always find you in each time line.

Rafayel would definitely tease you about how you only have a few “beauty marks” and how he has a lot of them. “geez you must realllyy like kissing me here..and here huh cutie?” His past life couldn’t have possibly kissed you in a few spots. There’s no way you're missing some many areas so now it’s his current life’s duty to fill in those gaps.

He’ll always leave a lingering kiss on every place on every part of your body that he thinks needs to be “revisited”, making sure he’ll keep kissing that exact same area so in the next life he’ll remember this. “Looks like I've taken care of all the spots this time....but I think you need a couple more cutie.”

Sylus:

Sylus sits up, cleaning one of his vintage guns while you’re nestled between his legs. You’re scrolling through your phone when a post about beauty marks catches your eyes. Curiosity piqued as you crawl on top of him, innocently asking, “Do you believe that beauty marks are where your previous lover liked to kiss you?

He falls quiet for a moment, his finger gently guiding your chin so you meet his gaze. He studies your face before drifting down to your body with a mischievous smirk. “Looks like you’re missing a lot then sweetie.” He murmurs, his hands roaming over your body. “I guess I’ll have to kiss every single one again and maybe more, so you’ll remember me in the next life." He whispers softly, brushing a gentle kiss across your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow and tender kiss. He pulls back just slightly, his breath warm against your lips with a teasing smirk. “But where are mine sweetie?”

Each one lingers as he continues to trail lower and lower on every surface of your skin with the hope that will leave a mark to to carry in the next life.

[elryuse]

Yandere Wonyoung x Male Reader

Wonyoung & y/n have been friends since childhood and promised to get married when they grow up..but since Wonyoung became an idol and got great success, she start to forget y/n and said rude things to y/n..at the same time, she's in a relationship with a male idol..y/n knows about it and feels very disappointed and slowly forgets Wonyoung

a few months later, Wonyoung compared between that male idol with y/n and felt that y/n was the best..after that, she start tracking y/n & willing to kill anyone who stood in her way.

The Price of a Broken Promise

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

The rain poured heavily outside as Wonyoung sat alone in her luxurious apartment, staring blankly at the dim glow of her phone. News articles, tweets, and viral videos filled the screen, all focused on the same scandal: San, her boyfriend, caught cheating with another idol. The images of him smiling, holding someone else’s hand, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

The betrayal stung, but it wasn’t just San’s actions that haunted her tonight. As she curled up on the couch, her mind drifted back to a promise she had made long ago, to someone who had once meant everything to her.

“Y/n,” she whispered his name for the first time in years, the sound foreign yet painfully familiar.

She closed her eyes, letting the memories resurface. She saw his shy smile, the way his hand would always reach for hers as they walked home together. He had been her anchor, her unwavering support during the uncertain days of their childhood.

But she had let him go.

Her fame as an idol had taken over her life, pulling her further and further away from the boy who had once been her entire world. It wasn’t just time or distance that had severed their bond—it was her own selfishness.

“Wonyoung, don’t forget me, okay?” Y/n had said once, his voice soft but earnest.

“I could never forget you,” she had replied with a laugh, brushing off his concern. But she had forgotten him—forgotten their promise, forgotten his love.

And worse, she had pushed him away.

Her chest tightened as she remembered their last conversation, months before she debuted. He had called her late at night, worried about her.

“Wonyoung, are you okay? You haven’t replied to my texts,” he had said, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I’m just busy,” she had replied coldly.

“I just wanted to remind you I’m here for you—always.”

“I don’t need you,” she had snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Stop calling me.”

She could still hear the silence that followed, the hurt in his voice when he finally said, “Okay. I understand.”

That had been the last time she heard from him.

Now, years later, she realized the enormity of her mistake. Y/n had been the one constant in her life, the one person who had loved her unconditionally. And she had thrown him away for a fleeting romance with someone who didn’t even care enough to stay faithful.

The guilt hit her like a tidal wave. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she searched for his number.

Her heart sank when the call didn’t go through.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She tried again, but the same robotic message greeted her.

“Why did I let you go?” she sobbed, clutching the phone to her chest.

The days that followed were a blur. Wonyoung couldn’t focus on anything—rehearsals, photoshoots, interviews. Her manager noticed the change.

“Wonyoung, what’s going on with you?” he asked one afternoon, his tone sharp. “You’re distracted, and it’s starting to show.”

“I just need some time,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Time for what? You have responsibilities, a career—”

“I need to find someone,” she interrupted, her voice trembling.

Her manager stared at her, baffled. “What are you talking about? You don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, standing abruptly. “I’ve already lost the most important person in my life because of this career. I’m not losing him forever.”

“Wonyoung, be reasonable—”

“I’m done listening to reason,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m going to find Y/n.”

She spent weeks searching, reaching out to mutual friends, scouring social media, even looking through old emails in the hope of finding some trace of him. It was through one of those emails that she found an old message from him, dated two years ago.

Wonyoung,

I know you’re busy, and I know your life is different now. But I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. If you ever need me, just call.

- Y/n

Her tears blurred the screen as she read his words. He had been there for her, even when she didn’t deserve it. And now he was gone.

Wonyoung’s search eventually led her to New York, where she had heard he had moved. She didn’t know what she would say if she found him. She didn’t even know if he would want to see her. But she had to try.

When she finally knocked on the door of a small apartment in the city, her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the rain that drenched her.

The door opened, and there he was.

“Y/n,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stared at her in shock, his expression unreadable. “Wonyoung?”

Before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n stepped back, his face hardening. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Why now?” he asked, his tone cold. “After all this time, why now?”

She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I was selfish. I hurt you, and I let you go. I let everything go, and I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”

“You don’t get to just walk back into my life,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t get to show up here and expect me to forgive you.”

“I know,” she said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please… just listen to me.”

Y/n clenched his fists, his emotions a whirlwind of anger, pain, and something else he couldn’t quite name. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” she said desperately. “You mattered more than anything. I was just too blind to see it.”

He shook his head, turning away. “Why are you really here, Wonyoung? Is it guilt? Regret? What do you want from me?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to make things right. I want to keep the promise we made.”

Y/n froze, her words cutting through him like a knife. For so long, he had dreamed of hearing her say those words. But now that she had, it felt hollow.

“You don’t get to fix this with a few words,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Trust doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know it’ll take time. But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/n looked at her, searching her face for sincerity. For the first time, he saw it—the raw, unfiltered regret and love she had buried for so long.

But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight. And love, once broken, wasn’t so easily mended.

Wonyoung returned to Seoul after her meeting with Y/n, but she wasn’t the same. The regret and longing that had once been a dull ache had transformed into something far more potent. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—his indifferent expression, his cold tone. The man she had once known as her Y/n was no longer hers.

And that thought drove her mad.

She sat in her darkened apartment, scrolling through her phone for the hundredth time. She had found his social media accounts, though they were sparse. His life seemed simple now—pictures of cityscapes, books, and an occasional group photo with friends. But it was the women in those group photos that caught her attention.

Who were they? Friends? Coworkers? Or something more?

Her grip on the phone tightened, her chest heaving with anger at the mere thought of Y/n laughing with another girl, confiding in someone else, smiling for someone else.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “He’s mine. He promised me. We promised each other.”

Her thoughts spiraled, and with each passing day, her obsession grew.

Wonyoung began to neglect her career. She would cancel rehearsals, ignore her manager’s calls, and avoid public appearances. Instead, she spent her days tracking Y/n’s life from afar. She learned the names of his coworkers, memorized his daily routines, and even discovered where he liked to eat lunch.

One day, she booked a flight back to New York, unable to stay away any longer.

Y/n was sitting in a café near his office, typing away on his laptop, when he felt a familiar presence. He looked up, and his heart sank.

“Wonyoung?”

She stood there, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a desperate kind of determination.

“I needed to see you,” she said softly, taking a seat across from him without waiting for an invitation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone laced with frustration.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you every day. I need to make this right.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wonyoung, we talked about this. I told you I needed time.”

“I know,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t wait. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about, Y/n. I can’t… I can’t live without you.”

Her words unsettled him. There was something unhinged in the way she spoke, in the way her hands clenched the edge of the table as if holding on for dear life.

“You can’t force this,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You need to move on.”

“Move on?” she repeated, her eyes widening. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Wonyoung, we were kids. Things are different now. You need to understand that.”

Her lips quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. “No. No, you’re wrong. Things don’t have to be different. We can fix this. I can fix this.”

Y/n shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You’re not listening to me. This isn’t healthy—for either of us.”

She stared at him, her tears falling freely. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

But he did mean it. He stood, grabbing his laptop and bag. “I think you should leave, Wonyoung. Please don’t come back.”

She watched him walk away, her heart shattering all over again. But as the pain consumed her, a darker resolve began to take shape.

Wonyoung sat in her hotel room that night, replaying their conversation over and over in her mind. Y/n was pushing her away, but she couldn’t let him. He was hers. He had always been hers.

Her thoughts turned to the women she had seen in his photos. She imagined them laughing with him, touching him, taking her place. The idea was unbearable.

“No one else can have him,” she muttered to herself, pacing the room.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more twisted than the last. If Y/n wouldn’t come back to her willingly, she would make him. And if anyone tried to stand in her way, they would regret it.

The next day, Wonyoung followed Y/n to his office. She waited outside, watching as he chatted with a female coworker—a petite woman with a kind smile. Wonyoung’s nails dug into her palms as jealousy consumed her.

When the woman walked to a nearby café for lunch, Wonyoung followed her. She cornered her in the alley behind the café, her expression cold and menacing.

“You need to stay away from him,” Wonyoung said, her voice low and threatening.

The woman looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n,” Wonyoung clarified, stepping closer. “He’s mine. Don’t think for a second that you can take him from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman stammered, backing away.

Wonyoung grabbed her wrist, her grip like iron. “Listen carefully,” she hissed. “If I see you near him again, you’ll regret it.”

The woman nodded quickly, her face pale with fear. Wonyoung released her and walked away, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over her.

Y/n started noticing strange things in the following weeks. His coworkers seemed distant, avoiding him during breaks. One day, he found a bouquet of roses on his doorstep with a note that read, “You’re mine, forever.”

He knew who it was from.

Wonyoung’s obsession was spiraling out of control, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He confronted her one evening, finding her waiting outside his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her voice sweet but unsteady.

“This has to stop, Wonyoung. You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faltered. “I’m scaring you? Y/n, all I’ve done is love you. All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“This isn’t love,” he said firmly. “This is obsession.”

Her eyes darkened, and she stepped closer. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You don’t understand how much I need you, Y/n. I can’t live without you.”

“You need help,” he said, his voice softening. “Please, Wonyoung. Get help.”

Her expression twisted into one of rage and heartbreak. “I don’t need help. I need you. And I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Y/n felt a chill run down his spine. He realized then just how far she was willing to go.

The obsession had consumed Wonyoung entirely. Every waking moment revolved around Y/n—what he was doing, where he was going, who he was with. She knew everything: the times he left for work, the café he liked to visit, the park where he occasionally went to clear his mind. Her network of eyes seemed endless. Every interaction, every smile he shared with someone else, ignited a storm of jealousy and fury within her.

But she couldn’t just watch anymore. She needed him. Completely.

It was a cold, quiet night when Wonyoung finally decided to act. She waited in the alley near Y/n’s apartment, cloaked in darkness. Her heart raced as she gripped the small vial in her hand, the contents a potent sedative she had procured after weeks of planning.

She knew his routine well enough to predict when he’d go to bed. The lights in his apartment flickered off around 11 PM. She waited another hour, ensuring he was deep in sleep before making her move.

Breaking into Y/n’s apartment was easier than she expected. She had studied his habits meticulously, noting how he often forgot to lock his balcony door. The quiet click of the door sliding open sent a chill down her spine, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through her.

She crept inside, her movements silent and calculated. His living room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Her gaze fell on a framed photo of him on the counter, and she couldn’t resist picking it up, her fingers trembling as she traced his face.

“You’ll understand soon,” she whispered to herself, setting the photo down.

Her footsteps were featherlight as she made her way to his bedroom. The door was ajar, and she pushed it open slowly, revealing Y/n’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Wonyoung’s breath hitched. He was so close, so vulnerable.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she pulled out a syringe filled with the sedative. She had practiced this moment in her mind countless times, but the reality of it made her hands shake.

“I’m doing this for us,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Her heart pounded as she pressed the needle against his skin.

The prick of the needle woke Y/n. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was disoriented.

“W-Wonyoung?” he mumbled, his voice groggy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. “Just relax.”

His gaze sharpened as he realized what was happening. “What… what are you doing?” he said, his voice slurred as the sedative began to take effect.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. Panic flashed in his eyes as he attempted to push her away.

“Wonyoung, stop,” he slurred, his strength fading.

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t let you leave me. I need you, Y/n. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

He struggled against her, his body weak but his mind racing. “This… isn’t love,” he managed to say, his words barely audible.

“It is,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “It’s the purest love there is. I’m doing this for us. For you.”

Y/n’s vision blurred as the drug fully took hold. His head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Wonyoung’s tear-streaked face hovering over him, a mix of desperation and obsession etched into her features.

Wonyoung sat beside him for hours, her hand gently stroking his hair as he lay unconscious. She whispered promises to him, vowing to make him understand, to show him that they were destined to be together.

“You’ll see, Y/n,” she murmured. “You’ll realize that no one can love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you like I do.”

Her tears had dried, replaced by a chilling sense of determination. She had crossed a line, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered now—only him.

He was hers. And she would never let him go.

The news broke like wildfire across Korea: “Jang Wonyoung, the Diva of IVE, Has Gone Missing.”

Fans were devastated, flooding social media with hashtags, prayers, and theories. Was it an abduction? Had she run away to escape the pressures of fame? The police were tight-lipped, but the public was frantic. News outlets speculated endlessly, painting a picture of tragedy for one of Korea’s brightest stars.

But the truth was far darker.

Far from the glitz and glamour of Seoul, in a secluded countryside church, Wonyoung stood radiant in her wedding dress. The ornate lace fabric clung to her like a second skin, her beauty almost ethereal. Her lips curled into a serene smile, her dream finally realized.

Beside her stood Y/n, dressed in a formal suit, but his face betrayed no joy. His once-bright eyes were now dull, lifeless. The man who had fought so hard to escape his past had been subdued, stripped of his will. He moved robotically, his body weakened from the drugged haze that Wonyoung kept him in.

The church was empty, save for them. There were no friends, no family, no witnesses. It was exactly how Wonyoung wanted it. This moment wasn’t for the world—it was for them alone.

“You look so handsome, my love,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice tender as she adjusted his tie. “I’ve waited for this moment my entire life.”

Y/n’s lips twitched, but no words came. He had stopped resisting days ago. His silence didn’t bother Wonyoung anymore. She believed that, in time, he would come to accept her love again.

The officiant, a man Wonyoung had hired for discretion, cleared his throat and began the ceremony.

“Do you, Jang Wonyoung, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Wonyoung’s eyes gleamed with joy. “I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Jang Wonyoung to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Y/n remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Wonyoung gently squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Answer him, my love,” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an edge.

“…I do,” Y/n muttered, his voice barely audible.

The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wonyoung turned to Y/n, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

“This is our beginning,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a possessive kiss.

The couple settled into their new home, a sprawling estate surrounded by high walls and dense forests. It was isolated, designed to keep the outside world away—and Y/n inside.

Wonyoung walked through the grand hallways, her arms wrapped tightly around Y/n’s as if afraid he might slip away. She beamed with contentment, her dream fully realized.

“Isn’t this perfect?” she said, her voice full of glee. “Just you and me, forever.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He walked alongside her, his steps heavy, his gaze empty. The man he once was had been consumed by her relentless obsession.

But to Wonyoung, it didn’t matter.

She had won.

No one else would ever have him. No one else could touch him. Y/n was hers—completely, irrevocably, eternally.

As they sat by the fireplace that night, Wonyoung rested her head on his shoulder, her smile serene.

“This is love,” she said softly, her fingers lacing through his. “And I’ll never let you go again.”

The flames crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to mourn the disappearance of Jang Wonyoung. But inside, she was happier than she had ever been.

The end

[koishua]

ㅤ      ㅤ   𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀yarenim evde (my darling is home).ㅤ ওㅤ

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀hwang hyunjin fluff fem reader .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀1.121k words no warnings enjoy .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀he comes home after gda2025! .ㅤ ও

Stepping into the confines of the familiar apartment’s front doors, he waits for the elevator to arrive from the topmost floor. The quiet bell alerts him to its arrival, ready to whisk him away to the place he calls home. The characteristic music assigned to elevators is absent. Small blessings, since his entire day had been about blaring speakers and blinding lights. Some quiet time was much needed to ease his desperate ear drums and nothing can stand between him and the soft touches of his favourite person alive (there are quite a few people he would commit near war crimes to meet, but we do not verge there).

When you open the door just as he is about to reach for his spare keys, the warmth of a home lived-in and loved greets him like an embrace, your arms pulling him in gently through the door and taking his coat before he reaches to undo his shoes. The world seems to tilt at its axis without warning and he has to rush to put a hand on the floor for balance, struck by an unforgiving moment of exhaustion now that he’s finally reached his safest space. 

“Woah,” you reach for the slumped over man by the shoe racks, soft hands gripping his assuredly, bringing him over to the sofa– thank God– closeby, “don’t worry. You aren’t dying, loverboy.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the teasing remark, content at finally catching the faint scent of your perfume clinging onto your clothes from earlier that morning. Lying down, he’s finally able to come back to his senses, making out a buzzing sound of what he assumes to be the coffee you loved to literal death. He has to fulfill his boyfriend duties and worry about your health, so he peeks over the back of the couch to reprimand, “You shouldn’t be drinking that at this time of the night.”

“Right, because you always listen to me when I tell you to rest. I’ll drink this, thank you.” You have to roll your eyes at his offended expression, though none taken. Offering him a mug of his favourite calming tea, you sit on the carpet by his side, coffee and tea resting on the small table until they cool down just enough to drink without scalding your tongues.

Hyunjin traces over the valleys of your face, flicking the bridge of your nose with a laugh from where he’s lying on his side, facing your direction like the sunflower to your sun. Your elbow rests on the cushion, supporting your cheek. The makeup his stylists had applied on him for their award show performance tonight looked impeccable, still, despite how worn his body felt. You admired the eyeshadow framing his brown eyes– so warm, so full of adoration, practically dripping with overflowing honey. 

“You did good,” your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw, “I was watching you and my friends kept gushing about you.” Your beloved’s face gleams with mirthful eyes, amused by the fact that none of your friends knew who your long-time boyfriend seemed to be, still. You were always the first one to tease them for being such big fans, devilishly keeping the tiny little secret that their favourite member has been in love with you for years now and you couldn’t imagine a life without him henceforth. 

The day he’d facetimed you sporting his brand new hair, you’d shrieked, dropping your phone in the process. He’d grown worried, wondering if you’d hated it, but you simply demanded he come home as soon as he possibly could. Why, he’d questioned, not that he’d ever refuse, and when you dropped the “We’re going to have so much fun.” bomb on him, he’d left his belongings on the spot, damn near hopping and skipping his way over.

Now, he is sliding down the cushion to huddle into your side. Warm tea in his hand, an arm slung comfortably around his sun’s shoulder to bring her closer without a single worry of being taken over by your scorching heat. Welcoming the destruction as much as the creation of everything beautiful in this world (his world, because so long as he has you, Hwang Hyunjin is a King and the whole world is his– you are).

Your fingers absentmindedly play with the hand over your shoulder he has graced you with, sipping on your caffeine concoction. “Congratulations on your Bonsang. You guys deserve it so much with how hard you work and deliver. Tell the boys that I’m so happy for them, too.” 

Light reaches his eyes when his lips pull apart into a wide smile, still exhilarated by the prospect of having won. “Thank you, my boss lady.” He presses a chaste kiss on your temple, getting a waft of your shampoo he’s used on more than a handful of occasions, later on finding one of his own in the shower. Now, everything here seemed to be for two, hints of love scattered all around in every insignificant corner of the house. 

“Shut up,” you giggle at the name he’d designated for you a long while ago, “I should be called Lady Overlord at this point.”

There is a certain pitch he laughs at like a cute little chime and you’re lucky enough to hear it on the regular. “People think I’m talking about my CEO whenever I tell them that boss is calling. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.”

Finding moments of silence as comfortable as this is hard for someone constantly surrounded by loud friends and loud music so Hyunjin knows to cherish it until it eventually ends. For now, he succumbs to the ache in his bones and lays his head on your lap, spine finally decompressing all of the pressure it has withstood the whole award season preparation period, followed up by rigorous performances. Tingles run down until they reach his fingertips from the way you oh, so deliciously run your nails on his scalp, smoothing over his short hair, the texture so satisfying to play with that you can never seem to get enough of it.

You know the effect it has on him as he’s often fallen asleep to you playing with his hair, short and long. He still has to take off his stage makeup and shower off the sweat and debris, but you allow him this brief moment of rest. That can wait another fifteen minutes, showing some much needed love and affection cannot. You can see his lashes fluttering closed despite trying his damndest to keep them open (he needs to keep them open, damn it, you wouldn’t understand. Breathing is a sin unless it’s your scent, sight a sin unless it’s to look into your eyes. You don’t understand, his planet orbits around your sun. Without you pulling him in, he is but a rogue, lost in the dark and cold space, wandering without aim).

“Relax, I’ll wake you up soon.” You shush him, swiping your palm over his eyes like a gentle feather. Hyunjin takes your word for it, drifting into a saccharine sweet sleep, lulled to sleep by your silent hum, the dishwasher’s rumble falling even further into the distant scapes of his mind.

© KOISHUA 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[burningembers91]

The Debt Collector - Choi Woo-Seok x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Choi Woo-Seok spends his days collecting money from people who can’t afford to pay. But when he meets you, he can’t help but bend the rules

A/N: the love I have for not only this character, but for the actor plays him in unbelievable. I love every character he plays and I adored his character in Squid Game. If you haven’t watched the Kdrama Kingdom, on Netflix I urge to immediately watch it. This man plays the most selfish, most cowardly, but most loveable person I have ever seen grace my screen.

Choi Woo-Seok had wanted to be a lot of things in his life. His parents had wanted him to be a doctor, but the sight of blood made him queasy. He’d thought about becoming a lawyer, but he was terrible at arguing. He’d trained as a chef for a short while, but that came to a swift end when he set the kitchen on fire just 2 weeks in. He loved photography, but there was no money in it, and if he was going to have a family of his own one day, he’d need a job that could support them. He wasn’t quite sure how he became a debt collector; he just sort of fell into it one day. What had started off as friendly conversation at a bar with a stranger had developed into a friendship, which developed into a job offer and before he knew it, Woo-Seok was knocking on the doors of those who owed his boss money. He wasn’t a violent man, he actively tried to avoid it at all costs. But, luckily for him his boss had plenty of hired muscle, so Woo-Seok could keep a happy distance from the beatings delivered to those who couldn’t pay.

It wasn’t the fanciest job in the world, but his boss was nice, the pay was good, and he didn’t haven’t to wear a stuffy suit to work. Being a debt collector didn’t give him much of a chance to meet women though. He had barely any free time, and when he did, he could never seem to land himself a date. Women tended to go for guys that didn’t look like him, that didn’t tell cheesey jokes, or trip over their own feet when walking. He longed to be a father and husband though, to be a provider for a family he hoped would cherish him as much as he cherished them.

When his boss gave him your name as the next person to visit, he hadn’t expected to be so taken aback by you. It was mostly men who owed money, but the few women who did were often just as violent and brash as their male counterparts, and Woo-Seok had been slapped more times that he’d like to admit by an angry woman who couldn���t afford to pay.

When he met you, you were so timid and shy. It was your husband who had borrowed money from his boss, who had gambled away every penny. When the money ran out, and he wasn’t able to borrow more he fled, leaving you to pick up the pieces. You didn’t deserve to pay for something you’d had no part in. You were already working 2 jobs, trying desperately to keep your head above water. You had no idea where your ex had fled to, and had no desire to find out. That man had been nothing but trouble from the moment you’d met him, but love made people blind, and you’d been no exception.

Woo-Seok pled your case for you. Begged his boss to write the debt off.

“You’re a softie,” his boss had sighed, but he chose to let the debt go. He had bigger fish to fry and he trusted Woo-Seok with his life. If he saw something in you, his boss wasn’t going to question it. “Don’t go trying to play the hero though,” he warned him. “It’ll only end in tears.”

But Woo-Seok couldn’t stay away. He’d only gone over to tell you the debt had been wiped clean, but when he found you scrambling to pick up the groceries that had fallen from your split carrier bag, he couldn’t help himself. He carried everything into your apartment for you, replaced the milk that had splattered all over the concrete, and bought you a coffee and a cake from his favourite cafe.

Woo-Seok made you laugh. You loved his cheesey jokes, his bashful smile, his selflessness. He was your knight in shining armour.

You made Woo-Seok smile so much his jaw ached. He was lighter on his feet, he whistled as he walked, he was so happy when he was with you it was like he was walking on a cloud.

He’d asked you out a few months after you met. There was a new open-air movie theatre coming to a park near your apartment. But you’d been left so broken by your ex, so fearful of letting someone in that you declined. You didn’t want to say no; you wanted to go on a date with the man who made your heart sing, but you couldn’t risk getting hurt. Not when you’d only begun to heal.

So the two of you stayed friends, Woo-Seok coming to check on you whenever he could. He didn’t know how to help you heal, didn’t know to take away the pain that was so evident in your eyes.

To Woo-Seok, you were perfect. And if he had to, he would spend every day for the rest of his life helping you to see what he did: a wonderful woman who he loved with every fibre of his being.

[starstruckgoateepuppy]

the cut that always bleeds

park jihyo x f!reader

synopsis: jihyo has been grieving over the loss of her sister, as much as you try and help her move on she seems to get more agitated and bitter which causes the biggest argument of your relationship.

warnings: drinking, kinda toxic jihyo, death and anything else i didn’t say

wc: 1.8k (its short im sorry)

a/n’s note: oh my god its been so so so long 🥲🥲 thank you @cry4mina for encouraging me and giving me ideas your soooooo nice and sweet for reaching out to me ☹️🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷x infinity

You and Jihyo have never had many arguments—mostly just bickering. This is largely because you both are understanding and mature with each other. The few disagreements between you aren't serious, and you typically make up quickly. You love Jihyo, and everyone close to you knows it. No one would have thought things would turn out like this.

-

day one

It was just your typical morning routine with Jihyo, and you nevertheless cherished every moment of it. You lived in an average-sized apartment with her, and both of you were very satisfied and content with your living arrangements.

You had been married to her for quite a while, and it was quite obvious that would not change anytime soon.

While at the table, having your hands on the delicious avocado toast that was made by Jihyo, there was suddenly a tense moment as she picked up her phone and answered the call that had been made while she was in the midst of brewing coffee. She was in such distress that you could tell something was very wrong. After a few minutes of giving her time, she put the phone down and mumbled, "My sister... she's not here anymore... she's dead." You looked at her face, her eyes glistening in the light as tears filled her eyes. You just hugged her as she sobbed into your shoulder.

You held each other for what felt like twenty minutes before gently guiding her to sit down. You assured her that everything would be okay and that her sister was in a better place now. Through her tears, she spoke about their close childhood bond and her deep regret about not interacting during the holidays. from the little times you met her sister, it was clear that she was really a nice and kind woman, it also pained you seeing how wretched she was processing all this.

you called out from work and took the next 2 weeks of just to help jihyo and her family out.

-

day 7

it has been a week since the death of your sister in law, who is now 6 feet buried underground. jihyo still hasn’t taken in the fact that she would never be able to see her sister again.

-

day 90

3 months has passed since the tragic loss of jihyos childhood best friend. to say jihyo was still taking it hard was an understatement. jihyo hasn’t been able to do much other then work and go on her phone reminiscing the memories of her sister. every chance you get, you try and get her to go out and spend some time together but she always seems like she’s out of it. as much as you try to help, she pushes it away and ignores it.

-

day 365+

it has been a year since the death of the park sister and jihyo has still yet to move on. although you still insist in trying to help her deal with her feelings and emotions, she becomes more insistent about being able to deal with herself. and you really can’t lie about how aggressive she has been lately and how much it has been frustrating you. you really just care for her and want to know if shes okay, but how could you if shes trying to push you away? you’re her wife and you feel like you should be responsible for her and her emotional needs. now she’s making you feel like you haven’t been caring and doing your responsibilities as a wife.

all of this causes a big change in her attitude towards you. her being more agitated and angry made you feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her as much anymore than you should. it gets to the point that you try to start avoiding her, worried about making her angry.

-

The clock was hitting 1 in the morning and you still weren’t home. The door clicked open, slowly creaking wider. She saw your familiar shoes and flowy silky black hair tip inside the door. The lights were turned off, just her sitting on the sofa staring at the television in front of her. You slipped off your shoes, placing your sweater on the door. you slightly jumped when you saw her figure get up from the sofa walking towards you.

“hyo? baby why are you awake?”

“don’t even think about talking to me in that sweet tone. what have you been doing at this hour? there cannot be an excuse reasonable enough for this!”

“jihyo you know i would never do such a thing! what kind of person do you take me for? its like you dont even know me anymore. you never try to even bring up a conversation with me!” you fired back at her. She was mainly the dominant one in the relationship. You never made statements like this. “i have been through so much this year and you still treat me like this like its nothing!” its like she was made to make people feel in the wrong, like she purposely wanted to make you feel terrible, like how she has been how the pass few months, and you don’t want to deal with it anymore. You didn’t want to feel like that anymore, you wanted to tell her the truth. “I have been doing my best to help you cope and deal with your grief for months and all you have been doing is pushing me away! how do you think i feel jihyo? i have feelings too! i also am devastated that my sister in law passed away! i also had connections with her but i had to care for you too!”

she stays silent for a little while, taken aback by your words. you thought it was done, maybe she started to understand that what she did was wro- “excuse me? are you trying to tell me that me grieving over my dead fucking sister is crazy? i spent my entire childhood with her, you don’t get it! i am her sister, you are her sister in law. its very different from what i know, or what? are you gonna tell me what i know is wrong too? i am never right to you, is that right?” you were left speechless, unable to process what you had just heard. “no way you just had the nerve to tell me that..” she just raised her eyebrow as you both stood there. you decided that you didn’t want to hear her voice anymore so you took your coat, packed up and left, ignoring whatever protests she was doing.

you got in you car, rethinking everything she had done and how much she neglected you. all the effort to make her feel better, all of that pushed down the drain so easily. all of that and she still called you the problem. you didn’t even know what to do and where to go. your mind was still trying to process everything that had happened in the past 15 minutes.

meanwhile, you could say that jihyo was astonished. she never knew you would go this far and leave the apartment, but she definitely knew that she did something terribly wrong. she was probably sitting on the couch, head in her hands in the most distress she has ever been. obviously she still loved you, but the loss of her sister took a toll on her and she started losing her mind not being able to deal with the pain and grief. she was starting to realise how much she messed up and had a pang of guilt hit her. she called and texted you, pleading that you would give her another chance, that she wouldn’t push you away from helping her. whatever she did you just didn’t answer, she was without a doubt starting to get worried.

it has been hours since you left the house and you genuinely didn’t even know where you were anymore. all you knew was that you weren’t ready to go back to where jihyo was. you were afraid that some unintentional words might slip out which would cause an even deeper misunderstanding with her. you hesitated checking your phone, aware that there would be tons and tons of messages and missed call notifications from her who is named as “my loml 🧡”. you needed a place to stay for the meantime, but you didn’t want to stay at her members place.

if you went to a members house they would probably question you (which isn't unreasonable at all because who the hell shows up uninvited at nearly 3 in the morning?) unfortunately you didn’t want to deal with that with how dazed you were. you knew they would very surely take you in without any protests, you just hated the fact that you would have to explain everything and make even more conflicts and problems.

after the hours of driving and reflecting on your situation. your last hope was to sleep in the backseat of your car. fortunately you had some blankets to keep yourself warm. sleeping in the backseat of your car in the parking lot of your apartment complex, something you never thought you would have to do one day.

-

at 6am

3 hours of minimal sleep, you drove to the nearest convenience store and got yourself some coffee to keep your mind running while on the verge of breaking down again. you didn’t get yourself any food, you doubt you were gonna eat it anyway and it would go to some pigeons in a park or something. you were trying so hard to prevent yourself from having to return back to your house.

you genuinely wish it could start over. things shouldn’t have been like this. there was no one to blame. no one should be forced to get over it.

-

it hits you. your facing what she faced. your sitting at a graveyard, in front of a tombstone.

there it marks the words.

“here is the forever home of

Park Jihyo“

you cry again and again, begging her to please just come back.

why did it have to end like this? you hated it, you wish you had never left the house. she wouldn’t have to go looking for you. then she wouldn’t have gotten into the car crash.

this whole thing could’ve been avoided. if you just continued giving her the time and she would’ve just allowed you to help her.

you wanted to blame the stupid drunk driver. but who are you to blame when she was driving to look for you? you made her worried? driving all around all alone. you thought losing a sister in law was one of the worst experiences. your sister in law will never know she was a reason her sister died just a year later.

[bwat5-blog]

My Hero: Arcane Fanfic

(Rough attempt at a scene I like to imagine went down in 2x05 behind the scenes)

The dim light shifted lazily with the creaking and groaning of the squalid little apartment. Jinx moved softly, not daring to risk waking Vi in this state. She had been coming to the pits for weeks since she found her… trying to work up the nerve, trying to figure out how to approach her. But she was afraid. Their last meeting hadn’t exactly gone well.

At first, she had been able to pretend there was some sick amusement to be found. Cast out by her trigger-happy Piltie girlfriend, left all alone after putting on the uniform, Violet was back where she belonged. In the muck with her people, covered in blood and sweat… but it wasn’t that simple. Jinx knew that after only the first fight.

She’s giving up…

She had watched Vi decline over the last few weeks, getting slower, not protecting herself. She went down. Hard. Almost every night. She was only making enough to fund her next drink and barely eating. She was killing herself… and all the Zaunites around her didn’t lift a fucking finger to help. Jinx had been planning on revealing herself the next time she came down anyway… and now Vander…

We have a chance… maybe we can… we can fix this…

So it was that she found herself holding her breath… until she had crept close enough to see Vi fully. Her stomach dropped, and she forced a hand into her mouth, biting down to keep from crying so hard that she drew blood.

Vi looked like a corpse. She was pale and drawn, still muscular but… not healthy. Her hair was crusted with thick black grease paint and what Jinx could only assume was dried blood. Her face, disturbed even in sleep, was a mess of white and black grease paint and bruising. She wore only black leather pants that were fraying and dirty white wraps around her chest.

“I’m sorry, Vi… I should have come for you sooner,” Jinx whispered, wiping tears away.

She looked around at the trash and empty bottles of booze and shook her head, kneeling down. She took a deep breath and started to move to gently touch Vi but stopped. This was the first time she’d really been this close to Vi without a fight or something else happening… the first time in years. She looked down at her older sister’s body clothed only in the wraps and leathers and had to choke down a sob of horror.

Vi’s body was covered in scars. She had taken plenty of licks as a kid, sure, but… her flesh was a tapestry of abuse and pain. Years of torment played out over every inch of her worn but still muscular frame. Far beyond the wear and tear of Vi’s childhood or even the meat grinder of the Undercity fighting pits. Vi had been tortured.

Jinx scrambled back quietly into a corner of the room, hugging her knees to her chest and biting down hard on a strip of leather from her cloak to keep from sobbing out loud. She shuddered, trying not to wake Violet, as she heard her voice from that day they first saw each other again:

“I tried to come back, I promise I did, but… I got arrested.”

Vi’s voice echoed in her mind.

Seven years… seven years in that goddamn place. Jinx gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. She thought back to Vi begging her to come with her, to just pick up and go. Telling her she loved her and how sorry she was. Sorry for what?! Getting kidnapped and thrown in a place where they did that?!

Jinx curled up tight and bit down on the leather so hard she was afraid her teeth would shatter. She remembered Vi’s hand on her cheek when they were little. Telling her how strong she was, how she couldn’t lose her…

Finally, she was able to stand slowly, wiping her eyes. She walked forward carefully, making sure not to step on anything that would wake Vi before she was ready. She looked to the dingy little cracked mirror on the wall and saw a black stick of grease paint, smiling sadly as she picked it up and whispered:

“Well… if you choke me out when I wake you, at least I get to go out looking like my hero,” she whispered, leaning down and gently blowing across Vi’s hair before going to the mirror and marking her name on her cheek.

[lilakennedy]

take your pick: bunny slipper cameo or cinematic-arthritis-hand-tremor blur

[muntitled]

Tic-Tac-Toe

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Insertion, Fingering, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Gunplay, Deepthroating, Breeding Kink, Unprotected sex

A/N: Hell is empty

4k Words

You're strapped in a chair, like always, and you are blindfolded because he doesn't trust easily.

It's terribly annoying.

At any point of during and after your little 'arrangement' you could have called the cops. Doesn't he understand that?

Every Wednesday, you're taken from the warmth of your apartment, and you're delivered right back at 00:00 on the dot, every Thursday with barely an inch of life left in your bones. You'd either always come back wet, with semen sliding between your thighs, or with mysterious marks- old and new- crawling underneath your sweater. Whatever mood he was in, he'd always leave you feeling sore.

It should have bothered you.

The thought of seeing this large, domineering shadow-in-a-suit every Wednesday should not overwhelm you with all these feelings of excitement. Instead, you should do like all the mentally ill girls do and just get some fucking help.

But you want him to trust you, for some reason.

Which was utterly ridiculous considering the fact that to him, you were something akin to a porcelain wind up toy for his amusement. You had no business requesting he remove the blindfold aspect but still, you asked anyway. Toy's couldn't be trusted, could they?

"I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to wear one of these everytime I visit your place." He removes the blindfold, and in a second, your vision is filled with nothing but him. One moment you were in the cozy warmth of your dorm room. Curled up on the couch while your roommate spends her youth effectively- out with boyfriends and friends and everything you didn't have. You answered the front door when you heard his special knock, like you always do. You walked with him to the cab. You let him put on the blindfold. You said 'I'm fine’ when the taxi driver got a little too nosy and you let him lead you away from your boring life.

If only for a few hours.

You'd let him do whatever he wanted for those few hours because such surrender was almost sacred. You forfeited your safety in his hands, to do with it whatever he pleased and in that, you found rest. Whatever happens, happens.

Forget this room- what was essentially his personal dungeon, windowless, red and boasting various torture objects- your eyes are only on him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to kidnap me anymore? We do this every Wednesday," You become more childish around him and he lets you. Like you forgot you are a fully autonomous university student. There was power in that too. "Surely we've established some sort of trust?” He doesn't respond to you immediately. You crane your head up at him, hungry to lock eyes with his cold, empty slits that enchanted you body and soul.

You are in love with him, perhaps.

That's a logical response isn't it?

You laugh almost.

Listening to yourself try to rationalize your fondness for such a horrible man.

Said horrible man is silent. All you hear is the clicking of his dress shoes as he moves to the leather seat directly across from yours. Your eyes scan over all his movements.

The right corner of his lip quirks up. A small coffee table creates the only distance between you and he bends over to pour you both a generous glass of Brandy on the rocks. You don't drink it. Ever since he's been bringing you here, you never do. He knows this, yet still he pours.

"This relationship isn't about trust." He says finally. Something inside you, that is perhaps a little broken, actually purrs at the sound of his voice. You're hyperaware of your thighs squeezing together on the leather seat. They're spilling out of the sundress you purposely wore today.

Lots of your clothes were for the function of comfort. Your body was full and curvy and not always something to be advertised, unless you wished it to. Tonight, you wanted to show off as much as possible.

A thick leather band is keeping both your wrists locked to the armrests, while he sits back, free and so irrevocably in charge it should scare you. It should. But the sick and incredibly deranged thing is that it doesn't.

Outside, the rain is beating down on whatever building you're in, casting a thick veneer of grey all across the city.

But inside this velvet room... your heart is hammering inside its cage as you watch him undo the buttons of his crisp suit. A black one today. Jet black like his hair.

Although-

"You've got more grey in your hair than last week." You can't help but say.

He tilts his head in inquisition. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," you shrug your shoulders as much as you can under these limited restraints. At least he hasn't restrained your ankles this time. Progress. "In here, you're the boss. Right?"

He takes a sip of his drink until finally, you've finally locked eyes. Your bare toes curl and your back arches slightly as you sit a bit straighter in your seat. Like you're in a lecture hall, although he is far more interesting than any of your professors.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he finally says as he takes one more sip of his drink before bringing his briefcase onto the coffee table. Its presence is ominous and so horribly loud for an inanimate object. It kickstarts all your dormant nerves, revving up all the rest of your senses that have yet to catch up to the fact that you were facing the man of both your desires and nightmares once again.

"Who have you told about our arrangement?" The question causes you to roll your eyes. He watches the petulant movement with that same, silent smile and blank eyes. He unclicks the briefcase. Your stomach lurches and your thighs squeeze together. Pavlov's dog.

"Every time you ask me-" an object clinks onto the table. A butcher knife.

You try to pull your eyes away from the objects he's placing on the table, one by one. "Everytime you ask me if I've told anyone about our arrangement-" another object. A wooden spoon beside the knife. "Everytime I tell you the same thing."

Your throat closes when he uncovers a dildo. Bright pink and fucking menacing. "Carry on talking." He says, snapping your gaze away from the objects lining the table.

"I don't have any friends." Your voice is wobblier. You try to deny the sight of the rabbit vibrator, "It's the reason you picked me." You clear your throat as you hoped to clear all the nerves beginning to fog your mind. "Someone could've followed me here. B-But I don't really know anyone enough to care." The final object that clunks onto the glass coffee table and this time, you're unable to look away.

"Are we ready to begin?"

The metal revolver laying quiet and undisturbed beside the rabbit vibrator makes everything else on the table look like children's toys. Even the butcher knife.

You pull at the restraints, your legs quivering slightly as you shift and writhe in the seat. He studies you as closely as you were once studying him. You can see the excitement begin to flood his eyes at the physical manifestation of your discomfort.

"Now you're getting it." He nods sardonically, taking another sip from his glass before placing the briefcase on the floor beside him. "You were a little too happy to see me," he joked, letting out an airy exhale of laughter.

"You wanna hazard a guess as to what we'll be playing today?" He's smiling, genuinely. With that look in his eyes you can tell he's hovering in the clouds. Meanwhile you've begun to feel real fear. No matter how regular these visits might become you'd never get used to him. It's impossible. Not when he found new and daring ways to torture and pleasure you every single week. You couldn't get used to something as brash and unconventional as him. Like the conditions of a child in a broken home, he kept his tactics inconsistent so that every week is a new hell or perhaps- depending on his mood- heaven.

"If I guess wrong?" You swallow thickly and something dark in him settles. He spreads his legs more, there's a twitch inside his lips before he smiles again.

"Well, guessing isn't the game, so you'll be fine."

You nod your head... assessing the objects. There's menacing objects and household objects. Even just looking at them you can tell what they all have in common.

"Am I going to have to insert-"

"You're not guessing." His voice booms. He rests his elbow on the armrests, his hands corded with veins seem itching to do something, you're not sure what. "I said guess." He commands.

"Hide and seek?"

He snickers, "A favourite-"

"More like your favourite." You snip back, "I couldn't sit down the whole week." You frown at the memory. That week he'd brought you to an abandoned warehouse, letting you run the entire perimeter full.

"It's in your best interest to keep coming to our sessions-" he reminds you, snapping you back into the present.

"You're paying my university fees, I'm not complaining." You nod, before plastering a thin smile on your face, "All I have to do every week is prostitute myself to a literal sadist-"

"Have you given up on guessing today's game?" He didn't like you making him hyper aware of the fact that this dynamic, whatever it is, is considered objectively bad. And so you're not surprised when he swiftly moves past the topic.

He leans forward. His large hand disappears under his chair before uncovering a small whiteboard. Four lines- 2 horizontals are running across 2 verticals, creating 9 blocks. He stands up, while your eye is still focusing on the board. From your point of view it sits underneath the row of objects on the table. You don't even realize your right wrist strap is being untied.

"Colour?" He asks, pushing a crate of whiteboard markers towards you. With your now free hand you pick the pink one.

He snickers. "Predictable." He whispers before placing a large, domineering hand on your head. He presses down your braids, patting you like a stray he's rescued from the cold. You stare aimlessly ahead, fearing you won't be able to contain everything you've begun to feel for him if you lock eyes now.

"We're playing tic-tac-toe," he relents. His hand lingers on your head a bit longer before he's stepping away.

"With a twist, I presume?"

"Clever girl," he nods, walking back to his seat. "So you're aware of the objects."

"Place a gun in front of a girl and she's going to notice."

"Paranoid girl." He tsks before leaning forward.

"You want to start or should I?"

"Wait-" you swallow, "What happens if I win?"

He smiles that dazzling, debonair smile.

"You pick which one goes inside you."

Lightning cracks across the sky. A chorus of thunder roars all at once like some kind of phenomenon and your lips stutter open.

"Th-That's insane I-"

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you came here out of your own volition. "

"What happens if you win?"

"Then I choose." He says.

Your eyes skate over the object. It doesn't take an ivy league graduate to hazard a guess as to which of the objects he's itching to stick inside you.

"There's a fucking knife here-" You're trembling. Tears are pooling in your eyes. It doesn't even matter that you're a somewhat decent tic tac toe player. It doesn't matter that you're confident in this game. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

"And there's also a spoon," he nods, neutrally, "And a vibrator, and a dildo. Etcetera. Etcetera." He leans forward, unclicking his whiteboard pen, "your words are just words, Darling. You're just listing things. Start," he says, with a deadly lilt in his voice. "Or I will."

You scramble to uncap your marker with one hand, all while he watches with dead and black eyes. You knew that whoever starts the game was placed at a big advantage and so you're nearly scrambling to place that dignified X in the center block.

"Clever girl." He says once again, drawing his blue 'O' directly beside your pink 'X'. You aim for the block above him. He blocks it. You aim for the block beside the center. He blocks that too.

Your victory comes too quickly. You barely feel it as you strike a line vertically through the blocks. 3 X's.

Relief washes over you but it's overcast with doubt. Like you're celebrating in trepidation as you watch him stand up.

"Congratulations! Which do you choose?"

"I can pick anything?" You ask, staring up at him, bright eyes wild with the adrenaline that comes with wanting to preserve your organs.

"Anything you want, my little winner."

You begin to lean over. His eyebrows quirk up when you wrap a small hand around his wrist.

"I pick that." You say breathlessly. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands at his side. And you watch as he walks towards you, as if compelled by an unforeseen force. His palms are calloused underneath yours and you blow out several unstable breaths as he stands above you. So imposing it's breathtaking.

"You sure?" It's the way he asks it that has you second guessing. And perhaps he sees the caution seeping into your eyes because there's excitement lurking in his. Before you're even able to formulate a response, his hand is locked tightly around your esophagus, vacuuming all pathways shut until you're writhing for air.

"A fine, fine choice," He's becoming more and more riled up the more you writhe in your seat, trying to scrounge for a single breath of air. He doesn't let you. Instead he moves behind you, before leaning down.

If you could breathe, you would shiver at the feeling of his lips behind your ear. "Here we go-" he whispers, before reaching around your torso with his free hand before forcing your legs open. The second he lets his three digits stab into your cunt, he uncurls the grip on your throat as you make a horrid sound somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a haggard gasp. "FUCK- Sl-Slowdown-" you knew better than to request something like that. All you hear is a snicker from behind you as pain blossoms all across your nether regions. He's not gentle. He's not kind. He doesn't allow you to adjust to his fingers before he's scissoring them inside you, causing a blood-curdling scream to rip itself out of your throat. Your back is arched and you're trying to get away from him but the fucking persists.

"You've been wet like this for me the entire time?" He sounds absolutely demented, behind you, "You wanted this didn't you?" He bites at your ear as the first tears begin to pool at your eyes, "My little winner."

"P-Please stop-" His fingers are restless inside you. Curling and uncurling. Scissoring and stabbing as if wanting to open you up and split you all the way in half.

"What a pretty little pussy, huh? Look at what a mess you're making."

"When-" you can't form words. "When- Stop?" It's all you're able to say as your nails dig into the material of his suit.

"The sooner you cum the sooner it stops."

You doubted your ability to cum under these circumstances. He's setting an ungodly pace and it's all so hurried and in a frenzy, it's like your brain does not have time to understand if you even like what's currently being done to you.

"What- Do you want you want my help?" you begin to shake your head. "I'll help you, baby-"

His other hand reaches over and pinches your clit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm is quite literally forced out of you. Your hips writhe and your ass tries to leave the seat as the first feelings of pleasure rip through you by force. "That's it, Clever girl," he coos, still curling his fingers inside you, "That's my Clever girl." He says once more before stilling his movements. For a second you just sit there, trying to collect your breath while he's still inside you. All at once, his hands are removed from your body.

He grabs a handkerchief from his breast pocket and you watch him clinically wipe his hands before erasing the marks on the board with the same cloth. A very clear boner pushes against his black slacks yet still his face is calm.

"Alright, My turn to start-"

"WHAT!? B-But I won." You scream, absolutely seething with desperation.

"You know everyone who plays 'X' has a significantly higher chance at winning-" You say with your eyes narrowed. He nods.

"And you know that too, which means we each should be granted alternating times to play ‘X’. Regardless if you won or not." You slump in your seat, suddenly far too aware that your bare cunt is exposed.

"Don't mope." He says, "It's not cute." Before drawing his 'X' in the center.

You close your legs, sitting upright with a new zeal of self preservation as you grab ahold of your marker.

You draw your pink 'O' underneath his.

You both play many more rounds. All ending in ties. This is how you play- with a frazzled grip and closed legs. A shiver every now and then overcomes you with the gravity of your aftershocks. His snickers bring your eyes up to his. He speaks as he makes his move.

"You're so focused on blocking," he sighs, "You're not even trying to win anymore-"

"I'm not letting you stick a knife in my cunt." You nod in finality before blocking another move.

"Not even if I say please?" He asks, making a faux pout.

"Fuck off."

"In that case, I have to win."

Your heart kickstarts as he pushes his pen to the board. Images flash across your mind. Blood splattered across his gorgeous face. Your blood as he fucks the sharp end of a knife inside you. You nearly vomit while he speaks. “Easy as-" you block him.

"Tic-" you block him again.

"Tac-" you block him some more

"Toe- I Win."

A victory that somehow escaped your vision. He strikes a line diagonally through the squares and your stomach sinks. He stares at you from across the room. His eyes so deeply satisfied you can feel it radiating off of him in waves.

You lower your teeth to the other restraint, violently trying to free your left wrist from its oppressive hold. And you watch as the devil slowly rises.

Your heart aches. Your brain is sent into complete alarm as your flight or fight kicks in and your sympathetic nervous system fires.

"Now, which one would look pretty inside you?" He drags his fingers along the objects, undoubtedly an act of taunting. You stomp your feet on the ground. You try to push the chair underneath you but it's plastered to the floor.

"Please!" Tears are running thickly. They cloud your vision. You don't even see the way his smile falls enough for him to rub over the bulge in his slacks.

"Fuck," he says gravelly as he relents and picks up the gun. "You're so fucking pretty when you're scared out of your fucking mind. You know that?"

You shake your head as he nears, wondering if this might really be the end. Has your body become too worn out by his games? Has the time for him to discard his toy finally dawned on you both? Is he all grown up with no need for such things as toys?

"PLEASE-NO-"

"Open your mouth." He's standing in front of you, your head directly in front of his raging bulge.

You shake your head, trying to move away but he rips your face towards him. "Listening to me is the only choice you have to make it out alive, Baby. You wanna live, don't you?" He's nothing but a tall figure, with the overhead lights shining around his head like a halo. Your face right by his bulge.

"Little girl needs to go to school." He nods, eyes fluttering shut, "She needs to complete her studies and get a good job so she wouldn't have to meet with scary men like me- Fuck-" it riled him up to no end to have you scared of him. You suppose it triggered a part of him that craved attention. He needed to feel like he existed and if that was reeped from fear then so be it.

"Stick the barrel in your mouth," the bottom of his hand coaxed open your jaw, and, as if on autopilot, you listen. Perhaps there is a way out of this. Perhaps you should just listen.

"That's it... Fuck," he brings your free hand up to rub his erection "That's it, Baby, stick it inside your mouth." Cold metal hits your lower teeth, "Stick it in like you would a cock." He says, looking down at you intently as your tongue unfurls and you suck the barrel in. "Shit-" he places his other hand on the back of your head before forcing you to take the gun deeper down your throat. He's trembling. Far too badly. And so is his finger on the trigger.

"Fuck, you're such a fucking whore, you know that?"

You're gagging and flailing around the barrel, saliva slides down.

So desperate to please him.

In your hast you don't even realize your left hand that had been restrained is now free. Your eyes are closed.

Please him.

Just please him and you'll live.

"That's my brainless girl..." he praises and that rouses something in you. It has your hips bucking against nothing.

"Such a stupid girl..." he continues, "You're gonna ride me, aren't you? You're gonna fuck me so good-" You're not about to tell him that sex wasn't supposed to be apart of this game. You're not stupid.

You faintly hear the sound of a belt unlooping. A zipper siding down. "You're making me so happy, baby." He admits before effortlessly lifting you from the chair until you're straddling him.

You're free.

When did that happen?

"F-Fuck, I need you to ride me." His head is leaning back against the chair. His tie hangs messily from his shirt that has two buttons undone.

You're free.

"Don't try anything," he warns, as he lifts you enough to pull his cock out of his pants. "Matter of fact. Keep it in your mouth while you ride me-" He slams you down onto his cock the very second those words leave his mouth. He's fucking into you with recklessness and fury and violence. His hair falls in his face but the gun is too heavy, without a hand there, it nearly slips from your mouth.

He's careful to catch it, forcing the barrel back in your mouth as he places a hand on your ass, controlling how your ass bounces on his lap. The gun offers motivation like no other. It has you arching your back and swirling your hips as you tighten your cunt around him.

He sticks the gun down too far and you gag. "You trying to get me to cum, huh? You little slut-" you nod, the tears still spilling as pleasure begins to stream through your brain. It has you excited by the prospect of being held at gunpoint. You realize with grave certainty that you've arrived at the point of no return.

"What a good girl- fuck-" he's ramming up into you, his hand on the gun twitching like his cock does. "I'm gonna fucking cum- FUCK-" he does and your orgasm immediately barrels into you at the exact same time. You try to ride him, to milk it as much as you can, to continue to make him happy.

"Such a stupid fucking slut-" he whispers, eyes hooded as his hips still spurt cum into you.

Your ears perk. You see his finger on the trigger move. You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear a click.

"Such a silly girl." You hear him say. "Don't worry, Baby, it isn't loaded." You're still in your body. You're still alive, on his lap, your sundress unfurling around you both.

"Not yet anyway."

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[screampied]

Hii baby veygusssss<33 hoping you a nice day / night🩷🩷, so um hear me out Choso x shy reader re-creating one of p-hub most liked nor watched vid? Just a silly thought of mine hehehei feel free to ignore this. Muaaaaa😚💗

- 🧃 ( new anon, I hope it's not taken yet😞 )

꒰১ cw. fem reader, doggystyle, hair pulling, choso tries dirty talk, premature ejaculatıon, mdni.

“baby, i— i wanna do this,” choso mumbles, showing you the video that displayed across the screen. oftentimes he’d show you some positions he’d wanna try, the only ones you’ve ever done with him so far was missionary or cowgirl. his ultimate favorite out of the two—just you straddling him, staring into his eyes always makes him shudder. “can we try it?”

peering at the screen, it was a woman and a guy performing a well known prominent position. with a shy expression, you speak in a soft tone. “doggystyle? you wanna try that?”

“yeah,” he pouts, closing out of the web page before turning back towards you. the both of you were on the bed, tangled limbs keeping each other warm before he pants. “i think you would look pretty like that,” and he gulps. “i mean, you’re always pretty— but like . . on your hands ‘n knees for me, you know?”

you giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “i know what you mean, baby, and okay. we can do doggy if you’d like.”

choso’s face lights up and he only grows more flustered once he sees you sit up. “okay, okay,” he tries to compose of himself, gawking openly as you lie flat on your stomach. then, you sit upright, placing the palms of your hands on the bed with your knees in place. his lips quiver, taking a three second glance at your ass. “a-and i’m gonna get behind like this, i think,” he cutely tries to remember the video. choso’s already starting to pant, shallow breaths of clouded puffs depart from his lips before he springs out his dick. he lets off a whine, staring at your pussy and how it was a bit moist from the outer entrance. “oh, it’s so wet from up close.”

“choso,” you tease, feeling yourself grow hot yourself. “any day now, baby.”

“s-sorry, sorry,” he snaps out of his erotic trance, reaching near the nightstand drawer to take out the lube bottle. he tried not to take too long, he wanted to be inside just as much as you wanted him inside also. quickly, he applies the lube in the right areas of you before focusing his attention back towards his throbbing cock. “give it a f-few pumps before going inside,” he speaks to himself underneath his breath, stroking his length once or twice. you wriggle your ass in anticipation and he only grows more abashed. you were shy just as him, although you were a bit more of an impish tease. “tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?”

“okay, ‘cho.” you comply.

after a bit, he inches the head of his tip near your slit that’s starting to open. he’s mesmerized, his mouth slowly pries open at the sight before he’s gradually starting to sink his way in. as choso grows quiet, you let off a soft moan that makes him pause.

“baby? does it hurt? what ha—”

“choso, ‘m moanin’ because it feels good, ‘m okay i promise,” you simper in a shaky breath, leaning against your folded arms. not even facing him yet you could tell he was so big—standing tall proudly with inches underneath his metaphoric belt. “keep going.”

he gulps, nodding with a sweet, “okay,” before resuming where he left off. such thickness has your lips spreading apart,

he falls in love with the warmth that your gummy walls provides—sending him into straight nirvana.

it feels almost blissful, you squeeze against him before relaxing, he’s barely even halfway in and you already feel the elastic stretch. it’s too good, the moans that constantly let out from your mouth only makes his dick twitch more. once you let off a whine, he whines. “just a few m-more inches, princess,” he swallows—choso’s throat becomes suddenly dry and you bite your lip. so big, the way he’s so gentle to not break you was oh so cute nonetheless. “so warm.”

choso speaks in a low gruff voice, yet it’s still so whiny. your goopy walls forever cling onto him before within seconds later, you’re rightfully stuffed. he gasps, a sudden sweltering sensation waves over him once he realizes he’s buried balls deep. a few languid seconds inside your pussy and he was already losing it — the poor thing, you had him whipped.

“ugh,” he whimpers, preparing for an impactful thrust. choso’s a bit awkward, trying to remember what his eyes saw from the video as he holds your hips firmly. “gonna f-fuck you now, baby,” he mewls, and gives you a single thrust. he’s hesitant, wanting to make sure you’re okay before you’re babbling for him to not stop. a single thrust like that was purely addicting—you throb and he feels it, the way your walls constantly tease him by constricting around it.

so evil,

your ass is held up high against the bed before he starts to fuck you at a sloppy pace. sweaty thumbs of his brush against your hips as he’s holding you firmly in place, trying to maintain a decent enough rhythm. “ngh, so hot inside, feels so good,” he hiccups, feeling the very bottom of your hips tilt back. skin against skin — it feels like you’re melting against choso, it’s heavily intoxicating.

with the way your ass sticks up against him like glue, he goes crazy, feral. choso makes you spread a bit further before he’s really driving his cock into you. he makes sure his pace isn’t too fast before he lets off a melodically lewd moan. with his sculpted abs flexing, he lets off a soft whimper. “baby can- can i pull on your hair a little too?”

you giggle, nodding as you’re continuing to adapt to the feeling of being jostled against the silky bedsheets. “yes, choso. go ‘head.”

choso’s wheezy pants grow heavier and heavier, he leans up close to where he’s shoved right up close against you. with your knees widening, he grabs a good amount of your hair before giving it a soft kitten tug. “is that good?”

“baby, harder. ‘s okay, you can be a l-little rough.”

he pouts, giving you a more harder tug and you moan— leaning forward with your head lying back down between your arms. “just like that, doin’ so good baby, keep—keep going, fuuuck.”

your torso’s upright, he moans at how good you feel from the inside. choso can’t help but feel himself starting to drool a bit. your pussy was addicting in every way. you fuck back against him, rotating your hips a bit and he squeezes your right ass cheek. choso’s never really stared at your ass much, but now, that it was constantly bumping back against him—he just couldn’t look away. “m-my goddd, ‘s warm,” he pleads out, desperate for more of this feeling. you clamp down on him tightly, nerves all over his body send him shivers inside and out. choso can already feel himself start to sweat, his dick continuously reaches every orifice inside of your stuffed pussy. for a moment, he closes his eyes shut, getting hard at the rough recoil your ass smacks against his torso. it’s sexy, something within him was telling him to spank you but he wanted to ask first. “f-fuck, um . . princess? one more thing?”

“yes baby?”

“can—” he breathes through jagged breaths, slowing his pace down just a bit to rub a thumb against your hips. “can i spank you o-one time?”

“yes, ‘s okay, spank me, choso.” you moan, feeling his tip reach deeper throughout your tightening cunt.

he’s so sweet, he caresses the left cheek of your ass before giving it a spank. it jolts you forward and you let off a sweet gasp, though once he realizes you like it, he starts to spank you over, and over, and over, until you’re being more vocal than him. choso’s so in love with your voice that he could listen to it all day,

it was something about the smoothness in it. the way you whine for more in such a honeyed tone makes the tips of his ears burn. he still couldn’t fathom that he, choso kamo—was making you feel this good. but the more he starts to rut into you, the more he starts to feel something creep up. it’s sneaky—steadily arising before he feels a pool of warmth reside near his lower abdomen.

“i- i think ‘m gonna cum,” he whimpers, and he says it quickly, you feel the vein that runs down his shaft pulsate through you and your legs squeeze together for a moment. he pokes his bottom lip out, about to spank you against but he hesitates. he doesn’t wanna be too mean, so he caresses your bare cheek instead, brushing a thumb against your ass like a brush paints its canvas. “should i p-pull out?”

“i-inside, choso. inside.” you whine, and darkened brows of his raise. his mind’s racing and he’s taken aback, you want him to finish inside?

choso grips your hips with both hands, trying to remember the video before he cutely spews out a specific dialogue. “g-gonna flood your pretty vagina with my sticky cum, whore.”

and you giggle—you giggle and choso gasps.

“w-what’s funny?” he frowns, pausing his hips. “did you not like my dirty talk?”

he’s still buried deep into you from the hilt and you bite on your arm before replying. “heh, no it’s just .. nevermind,” and you have a soft smile, still not facing him. “but we gotta work on your dirty talk, baby. no one really says vagina or sticky cum.”

“…oh,” he says with his brows curling into a furrow. so cute, yet after a while, he finishes anyway.

his orgasm hits him like a truck — it’s so good that he whimpers, rocking his hips against you before feeling the drenched sloshes of oozing cum pouring into you. it’s thick, ropes and ropes of his velvety seed trickles into your sopping folds. he came a lot too, despite it being a bit early. whines welt from his mouth before he pulls out slowly, staring in revere at the way your pussy’s plugged all in. momentarily, his cum starts to dribble out and he runs a thumb down it to touch it. it’s warmth, he shudders before averting his attention back towards you, towering over you. he pants, “s-sorry, you didn’t get to finish.”

“we’re not done, silly,” you kiss the bridge of his nose where his scar lays. “and don’t be sorry. you did amazing with doggy, you’re a natural.”

choso pouts, yet grows flustered once your lips hit against the bump of his nose. “eh. but i could do better. i wanna learn how to talk dirty for you.”

“we have all the time to practice, baby,” you softly whisper, pulling him into a hug—wrapping your shaky legs around his slim waist. choso inhales, staring at you with rough pants leaving his lips every millisecond. “we’ll get better.”

he lets off a relieved sigh at how understanding you were, he lays his head against your chest, bristle hairs of his ponytails tickle against your skin before he speaks in a shy tone. “o-okay, okay but um .. can we maybe try another position i saw?”

“what is it baby?” you hum, stroking the edge of his temple in such a hypnotic way—the benign rhythm of your fingers was so soothing he found himself almost drifting off to sleep.

he had a cute smug grin. “f-full nelson.”

[lnfours]

you | l.n

summary: what’s more romantic: laying cuddled up next to the fireplace on christmas eve with the love of your life, or that special item in the little black box with a bow?

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sexual content, holiday vibes, and tooth rotting fluff.

message from jordan: hi everyone! here’s to the first christmas fic you’ll be receiving from me! don’t worry, focal point is still very much in production and will most likely have a chapter coming out later this week :) i hope you all enjoy!! sending you all my love, as always 🤍

masterlist | inbox

the orange and yellow flames kept the both of you warm as you laid with your head on his chest. his fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes into the soft skin of your bicep, your head resting on his chest as you found yourself listening to the sound of his beating heart.

the one that only beats for you.

your legs were intertwined with his, and you had found yourself tracing over the indents in his abdomen with your fingernails. silky soft and tanned skin littered with moles and freckles. the same ones you made sure you pressed kisses to every time you found yourself in their path. they littered his skin like stars in the night sky. and to you, they were just as beautiful. one of your favorite features of his.

his breath tickled your neck, smiling softly when he placed a kiss to the skin where your neck met your collarbone. you felt him pull you closer against him, leaving no gaps between you. not even enough space for air.

it was the little moments like these that you cherished the most, the ones you held close to your heart. the ones you’d think of whenever someone would mention how well the two of you mesh together, that you’re the definition of his soulmate. his version of a nice, warm soup you crave on a cold and windy winter day.

simply enough, you were each other’s soul healing medicine.

“missed you,” he mumbled against the crook of your neck, “sorry i couldn’t help you bring your stuff over.”

he had told you to bring more things from your apartment to his house. and when you protested, he argued that you already had a side of the vanity in the bathroom filled with your makeup, skincare and any other possible hygiene products you could think of. you had even taken over a side of his closet.

and maybe a drawer or two of his dresser that you hadn’t told him about. instead, while in search of a pair of socks, he had found a couple pairs of your pajamas in the drawer.

the simple fact that you had been leaving your things behind whenever you’d go back to your apartment for a couple days was like little reminders to him. reminders that you’d be back in a few days time, that it wasn’t a temporary situation to you. this was real. and you were all in, just like him.

“‘s okay, max was here to help,” you said, “sorry i took over one of your shelves. i wanted to bring some books,”

he shook his head, “don’t be sorry, i like your stuff being here. makes it feel more like home.”

you smiled, tilting your head to meet the pair of blueish-green eyes you had fallen head first in love with. the ones you had seen one night out in london, the ones that you had been mesmerized by ever since.

he tapped on your arm lightly, a silent signal that he was going to move. you untangled yourself from him with a soft frown, not really wanting to reposition yourself beings the previous state had been far more comfortable. you sat up as he did, watching as he kneeled towards the tree, picking up various packages and looking at them before putting them back down. it was like he was looking for one in particular.

“what’re you doing?”

“looking for something,” he said softly, “i can’t remember where i put it- oh here it is.”

you furrowed your eyebrows when he turned around with a small little box in his hand. a black box with a white bow on the top, too neatly done to have been done by him. you squinted at him, taking it cautiously.

“it’s not christmas yet,” you questioned his actions.

“i know, but i’ve been trying to decide if i wanted to give it to you early,” he said, “but i think now is the perfect time. besides the fact that i’m impatient.”

you chuckled softly, undoing the bow on top and playfully tossing it his way. his reflexes allowed him to catch it, placing it down on the floor next to him. he took the time to take in your figure, how pretty you looked in the dim light of the christmas tree and city lights shining in through the windows. how his tshirt had ended up around your frame, hair slightly messy.

to him, you were the most perfect person in the world. the only person he envisioned a life with, who he wanted to come home to at the end of the day. the only one who understood him better than he knew himself. he thanked every god possible and counted every lucky star for the night in london that had changed his life.

“i swear, if something pops out at me, so help me god,”

he laughed, “nothings gonna pop out at you, baby. promise.”

you squinted, narrowing your eyes towards him as a sign that you didn’t necessarily believe him. you lifted the lid of the box with slight caution, and when it was clear that he was telling the truth about there being no surprises, you fully opened it. however, the gift inside the box raised more questions.

“a key?” you lifted your head, letting your eyes meet his as you held it up, “to what?”

“our home.”

you blinked at him, speechless for a moment as he smirked at you.

“wait, what-?”

“move in with me,” he said, “i’ve been thinking about it, for a while now actually, and you’re the person i want to have a life with. i want to come home and find you on the couch watching tv or dancing along to the music playing in the kitchen while you’re cooking dinner. youre the one i want to wake up next to every morning, the one i want to say goodnight to every night before i fall asleep. it’s you, not anyone else,”

you fought the tears welling up in your eyes from his sweet words as he continued, “and i love the fact that every single one of your things has a spot next to mine. i want this crazy little life that we have forever, so this is my way of asking if you’ll move in with me.”

you bit on your bottom lip as you smiled, “i mean, i don’t really go to my apartment anymore anyway, so-“

he didn’t let you finish before he was pulling on your arms to bring you closer to him, making you squeal as you landed on top of him on the floor. you giggled when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing him back. the kiss only breaking when your smiles got to be too wide.

“i love you,” he mumbled against your lips, “more than anything.”

you hummed, “i’ll always love you more, though.”

warmth spread for your chest at the idea of taking your relationship one step forward. you had known for a while that he was the one you wanted to do everything with, but knowing he was on the exact same page as you was a feeling like no other. a state of euphoria. one that made you feel giddy inside, like you were back in high school with a crush all over again. the same kind of exciting feeling that you prayed never died.

and as long as he was yours and you were his, that was never going to go away.

he flipped the two of you over so he was back to hovering over you on the floor, the same position the two of you had been in earlier in the night. you played with the hairs on the back of his neck absentmindedly as you spoke.

“even though it’s not a new home, does this count enough that we get to christen every surface of this apartment?”

he laughed softly, nose bumping against yours, fingers lightly tracing into the skin of your waist underneath your shirt, his lips brushing against yours sending shivers down your spine. the kind only he could cause.

“do we even have any spots left?”

“oh i’ve got a mental list, don’t worry.” you smiled as his head fell to your collarbone. the sound of his giggle echoing through the room, causing you to laugh too.

your eternal happy place.

“then, what’re we waiting for?”

“i like the way you think, pretty boy.”

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: Your rockstar boyfriend comes home early and finds you very needy. But he already knows that, doesn't he?

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), pure breeding kink, unprotected p in v, masturbation (m & f), mention of ovulation and periods, voyeurism if you squint, rockstar!Eddie Munson, established relationship

A/N: a collaboration with the love of my life @corroded-hellfire, based on the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter.

--

Eddie Munson may have failed a few classes—there was a reason he had three senior years—but sex ed wasn’t one of them. He learned how to use a condom, that girls could get pregnant their first time, and the difference between a pad and a tampon (living with his Uncle Wayne kept that conversation at bay.)

But the lesson Eddie recalls now is that ovulation occurs about seven days after your last period. Which, according to the pocket calendar he keeps stashed away during touring, is today. 

It isn’t like he asks about your cycle, but when he calls from the road, you’ll mention when you have cramps or you’ve just taken a Midol. At first, he tracked your periods so he could make sure the house had a plethora of chocolate during that awful week, but then he began noticing…other patterns. 

Two months ago, you’d initiated phone sex, whining about how badly you needed him inside you, needed his cum, needed his cum inside you. Last month, you’d cheekily informed him that you’d snapped some Polaroids earlier that day and had express-mailed them to his hotel room—photos that were for his eyes only. Both of those instances occurred two weeks after your period ended. 

This month, Eddie refused to be apart from you when your desire took over. 

That’s how he finds himself ditching the End of Tour party, coming home a day early to surprise you. It’s been months without you, months stuck in close proximity with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. If Eddie doesn’t get his hands on you soon, he might implode. 

“Babe?”

No answer. 

Eddie frowns, taking the winding stairs two at a time. The light in your bedroom is on, the door slightly ajar. A soft humming comes from inside, the noise interrupted every so often with your unrestrained moans. 

He can’t help but listen for a moment. 

“Eddie…f-fuck…right there…”

If he hadn’t been away for so long, he might have let you enjoy your solo time. Maybe he’d secretly rub one out to your sweet sounds. A high keening sound robs Eddie of his thoughts as he slips his own hand into his pants. 

His mind is blank, no memory of the thoughts that were just floating through his consciousness. Now, there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the way his fingers wrap around the base of his cock. 

“Eddie,” you whine pathetically, “need you to fill me up, baby. Please, please, please.”

As if his body is running on autopilot in response to what you just said, Eddie removes his hand from his pants and pushes the bedroom door fully open. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed in pleasure so you don’t see your boyfriend as he stalks closer to the bed.

“Need your cum, Eddie,” you whimper, body trembling with want. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Eddie coos softly, loud enough so you know he’s there, but not enough to scare you or ruin the mood. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of that sultry voice. The mood in the room begs for you to keep going, to keep working your fingers in and out of your needy hole as Eddie rips his shirt off over his head. But your curiosity is too strong to keep at bay, even with the neediness surging through you.

“E-Eddie?” you ask through labored breath. “What’re you doing home?”

“Skipped out early so I could be with my girl.”

Eddie undoes the buckle on his belt, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. “And it’s a good thing I did. I can’t have my pretty princess all needy for me like this. Let me help you, baby.” Eddie gets the handcuffs off his belt and hangs them on his index finger as he approaches the door of the bed. A dark eyebrow quirks up as he gives you a smirk. “Now that I’m home with these, sweetheart, you don’t need to use those pink fuzzy ones you keep in the drawer.”

“Please,” you whimper.

That one little word is all Eddie needs to hear before he kicks his jeans off and quickly shuffles out of his boxers. He kicks them somewhere to be found at a later time and kneels on the foot of the bed. 

Your dark, lust filled eyes follow his every movement. 

“Eds, can you—”

Eddie grins, already pressing kisses along your inner thighs to your core. “Baby, you don’t gotta tell me what to do. I know this body better than I know my own.”

With that, his tongue finds your clit, licking and sucking with excruciating precision. His ringed fingers wrap around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders and tugging you close. 

He breathes in, inhaling your scent like it’s a god-sent nectar. 

“Missed my pretty girl and her pretty pussy,” he mumbles into you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

Your leg twitches as he laps at you, a mixture of his saliva and your arousal pooling beneath you. The noises you’re making are involuntary and straight up obscene. 

“Eddie…Eddie…oh my god, Eddie!” Throwing your head back, you feel your body tense in anticipation of that delicious release. Your orgasm is a tidal wave, crashing over you in a way you hadn’t experienced since Eddie had left for the tour. 

Eddie sits back now, rocking on his heels. “Still got it, huh?” His grin is proud and slick with your sheen. 

“Definitely.”

“Good.” He presses his palms to his thighs and stands up, giving you a better view of his own desire. 

Pre-cum leaks from his tip, his cock rock-hard just from eating you out. You have a strong suspicion that if you’d taken any longer to finish, he would’ve busted before you. 

You want to take him in your mouth, to glide your tongue over the prominent vein and knead his balls until you’re swallowing his load. 

Eddie, however, can only focus on one thing. 

“Heard my pretty girl wants me to fill her up,” he coos. “Is that true? Do you want me to fill you up until my cum drips out of you?”

To his surprise, you shake your head no. 

“Don’t want it to drip out of me. I want to keep all of it inside.”

The groan that emanates from Eddie’s throat fuels a fire in your belly. His cock twitches, the head tapping against his navel. 

“Sounds like you want me to claim you. Permanently.” Not just the hickeys that fade within a few days. No, you want him to—

Without hesitating, Eddie climbs onto the bed and positions himself on top of you. 

“Allow me the honors, sweetheart.” Eddie drags the tip of his cock through your wet center and pushes in with a groan. “Fuck, thassit. Feels even better than I remember.”

You gripped his biceps, relishing in the gentle stretch of him within you. Every tour felt like an eternity, but that first time together each time he came home was worth the wait. 

“Now,” Eddie growled into your ear as he found his pace, “tell me what you want. Tell me what you need from me.”

You scrounge up a reply with the sliver of your mental capacity that isn’t focused on him. “Your baby.”

Eddie smiles, kissing down your jawline. “You need my baby, huh? Need me to put a baby in this cute belly of yours?”

“Mhm. Need that s-so bad, Eddie. Please.” The words tumble from your lips in utter desperation. All you can think about is having his baby, his hands caressing your bump, knowing that he’s the reason you’re pregnant. 

“Goddamn,” Eddie hisses. He buries his head in your neck. “Beg for my baby some more.”

You arch your back, letting him wrap his arm around your waist. “Please give me your baby. Pleasepleaseplease—”

His fingers grip you harder, his movements becoming more erratic with each thrust. You can feel his fingernails digging crescents into your skin. 

“There we go, sweet girl. Fuck, ‘m close…”

You nod, too enraptured in him to even utter the words ‘me, too.’ All you can manage are a few strangled moans as your orgasm washes over you. Your body is light with pleasure, drifting away on a cloud of contentment. 

“Eddie.” The sound of his name on your lips tips him over the edge. It’s just the way you say it, all breathy and soft, that drives him wild. 

With a final groan, Eddie spills into you. “Oh, sh-shit…that’s it. Take it. Take my cum, baby.” There was a primal edge to every word. 

Both spent from all your exertion, Eddie flops down next to you and the only sounds are two ragged breaths as you both attempt to control your breathing. 

Once your bodies have calmed down a bit, Eddie turns on his side and splays one large hand across your lower abdomen. His warm palm is a comforting weight, one that has your eyes slipping closed and a smile coming to your face. 

“You’re home early,” you finally say.

Eddie chuckles and leans in to press a lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you. Didn’t wanna go to some dumb party if you weren’t going to be there.” He presses another kiss a little higher on your shoulder. “Especially not when you’re ovulating.”

Your heavy eyes open and you let your head fall to the side, coming face to face with your boyfriend.

“How’d you know I was ovulating?”

“I remember when you got your period,” he says. “Just some simple math. I may not have been able to pass geometry, but this kind of math I can do.”

A soft chuckle emanates from your chest and you fully turn on your side to face him. Eddie wastes no time pulling you flush up against his chest, his strong arms winding around you.

“Came here with a mission to knock me up, huh?” you tease, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. 

“Seemed like an easy decision.” Eddie presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You want to be carrying my baby. I want to get you pregnant. Little Munson Junior wants to be born. Everyone wins.”

You laugh as you bury your face against his shoulder. 

“Would love to have a little you,” you say. 

“Nah, I hope they look like you,” Eddie says. “One of you is already unbearably cute, I can’t wait to have two.”

“Can’t wait to snuggle them,” you say, a lazy smile spreading on your face at the thought. “You, me, and a little baby.”

“Our little baby,” Eddie adds.

“Hopefully this one took,” you say.

“Either way I’m prepared. If you’re not, I’m more than willing to fuck you every waking moment until it sticks. If you are…well, I may have picked up a few pregnancy tests on the way home,” Eddie admits.

“You didn’t.” You look up at your boyfriend, a gleeful chuckle following your words.

“Hell yeah, I did. Corroded Coffin’s latest album and tour are over and done with. It’s time you and I had our own little collaboration.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hum. “We make pretty sweet music together.”

“Oh, we absolutely do.” 

Eddie waggles his eyebrows roguishly before resting his forehead against yours. “But tonight,” he murmurs mischievously, “I’m hoping to hear some screamo.” 

--

[autumnscribbles]

truth part 2 | rc

pairing: bsf!rafe x reader

summary: rafe finds out about sofia’s betrayal, and tries to come back and apologize for his previous words

part 1

warnings: swearing, angst, unhappy ending lol

wc: 1.8k

a/n: thank you SO MUCH to everyone that showed love on the first part😭 i appreciate it so so so much!! i kept this one pretty angsty because i think we all wanted to see rafe not be forgiven! so it is open ended for a part 3 👀 if you guys wanna see it! lots of love 🫶🏻

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

You were sitting on your wraparound balcony, book in your hand as you felt the sun warming your bare skin. It was another beautiful day out, and you wanted to take advantage. Your sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned the novel in front of you.

You were taken out of a trance when you heard a commotion going on nearby. It sounded like it was coming from the Cameron house, which sat next to yours. Sofia had been staying in it, so you've heard, despite Rafe being in Morocco. You placed your bookmark between the pages, setting it down before rising to your feet. You walked to the edge of the balcony, placing your hands on the railing to lean over it slightly.

You saw Sofia, walking outside with a suitcase dragging behind her. What was she doing? She went in and out a few times, each time returning with various different items that all must have belonged to her. You wanted to ask her what was going on, if it had anything to do with Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him since the fight you got into at his house, and he was gone now. In Morocco doing god knows what with the Pogues. You didn't care anymore.

A car pulled up in front of the intimidating large property, Sofia disappearing inside of it as it drove away. The house was empty now. The house you spent years walking over to, sleeping at, drinking at, now sat there vacant. Simple as that. Everyone gone. You reflected on how quickly things change, how easy it is for everything to fall apart so quickly. You had cried about your conversation with Rafe after it happened, but since that night you hadn't shed a tear. You loathed him for what he said to you, for blaming his own emotional damage on you. You had always supported him, been there for him even when he was a complete mess. Goes to show none of it mattered in the end, anyway. You didn't know when he would return, and you couldn't be bothered to try and find out.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

Rafe busted through the front door of his house, being met with nothing but deafening silence. The air sat heavy around him. It was just...empty. Sofia had actually left. He knew he told her to, but he was hoping deep down that he had been wrong. Maybe she'd stay and tell him Groff was full of shit. Her absence was confirmation that you had been right all along. He accused you of lying, of jealousy, and now he was eating his words.

"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the counter in front of him, dropping his head in his hands. Everything was ruined. His friendship with you, his relationship, the deal. Everything slipped through his fingers so quickly, he couldn't keep up.

He decided he needed to talk to you, to see you again. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed you. When he was in Morocco, all he could think of was you. He was too proud to admit that, though.

"Please be home," he muttered under his breath as he turned back around and out the front door.

He walked up to the entrance of your home, banging his fist on the door loudly. He continued repeatedly until you finally swung the door open.

Your eyes met his, fighting to hold back a gasp. You weren't sure you would ever see him again, and here he was. He looked anxious, his eyebrows furrowing and his gaze roaming all over the place. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he looked at the floor.

"You were right," he practically whispered, his stare remaining off of you.

"What was that?" you asked, cupping your hand to your ear. You heard him, you just wanted to hear him say it louder.

"I said you were right, okay? About Sofia," he admitted. "She took the money from Hollis and convinced me to take the deal. I kicked her out, we're done."

You had to admit the words were good to hear. You already knew you were right, but it felt good to hear him admit it. You were starting to wonder if the truth would ever come out, or if Sofia would just keep going on like everything was fine. Rafe almost never admitted when someone else was in the right. It wasn't that easy, though. He had a lot more to admit wrong than just not believing you. Sofia wasn't even the issue anymore.

"Great," you said sharply, starting to shut the door. He stuck his arm out, holding it open.

"I said you were right, y/n," he repeated. "I should have believed you."

"Good for you," you said dryly. "I told you not to come crying to me when she fucked you over. That remains true."

Rafe let out a long sigh, frustrated at how difficult you were being. In the past, a simple apology would make everything go back to normal. Clearly, that wasn't going to be how it goes this time. He knew you could be stubborn, and it drove him insane. His arm remained extended, stopping the door from shutting. He saw movement going on behind you, and craned his neck to get a better view.

"What's going on?" Topper asked, appearing behind you.

Topper had dropped by this morning to bring you breakfast. You hadn't asked him to. You think maybe he felt bad for you, pitied you. You were alone in a big house, your family gone. Rafe was gone. You didn't need his cheering up, though, you were perfectly happy on your own.

Being alone for so long allowed you to be comfortable and even content in your own presence. You liked the quiet mornings, the long walks, and never having to ask anyone for anything.

"You-," Rafe stuttered. "You're hanging out with Topper?"

"And?" you asked, your jaw set as you blankly stared at him.

"You don't even like Topper," he whispered harshly, leaning towards you.

"Says who?" you said. "You don't know me anymore, Rafe."

He scoffed and took a step back from the door. He took a deep breath before speaking, knowing that maybe he should think a little bit more before he speaks.

He wasn't wrong, you didn't like Topper. He was arrogant and honestly kind of a baby most of the time. He was always whining about Sarah, or John B and it was getting old. You had been spending too much time alone, though. You knew people were talking. People were always talking. Hanging out with Topper would put out a good word, and he'd tell people you're fine. Maybe then people would stop asking. There wasn't anything going on other than friendship, but you didn't mind the company here and there.

"Are you just trying to make me jealous?" Rafe asked, his eyes finally fully meeting yours, reaching you.

"Are you serious, Rafe? Again?" you asked. You took a step outside, pulling the door shut behind you. You didn't want him in your home, especially not with Topper there.

Topper probably thrived on the drama, probably couldn't wait to go run to the other kooks and tell them Rafe showed up at your door. That aside, you had to give him a piece of your mind at this point.

"I am serious, y/n!" he exclaimed.

"Rafe, when will it get through your brain that not every decision I make is about you?" you asked. "Are you seriously so selfish and self absorbed that you think every move I make has to do with you?"

Rafe's mouth stayed slightly agape, his feet pacing back and forth on your walkway. He ran his hands over his head, his jaw clenching. His brain was going a mile a minute, and he couldn't find the words anymore. He was overcome with emotions, unable to regulate them.

"Do you not remember what you said to me, Rafe?" you asked, your voice raising.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said. "I was an asshole, and I should have believed you about Sofia. I shouldn't have said those things."

"What did you say again?" you asked, taking a step closer to him, your head held high. You would not back down this time. You wouldn't let him get away with it.

You tapped your chin with your index finger, looking upwards acting like you were trying to remember his words. "Oh yeah, that all I do is fuck with your head? That I want attention? That I use you for my benefit? That I'm a jealous liar? I almost forgot."

Rafe went to speak, but you cut him off again, immediately.

"Oh and I almost forgot," you sneered, sarcasm dropping from your voice. "That all your problems are because of me?"

"Y/n," he breathed, taking a visibly deep breath.

"Don't even say anything, Rafe," you said, putting your hand up to stop him from speaking. "If I ruin your life so much, and mess with your head, I don't need to be part of it. I'll live my life, and you live yours. You can do whatever you want, I don't care."

"I care, y/n!" Rafe exclaimed. "I didn't mean those things I-I was just angry. You know I can say stupid shit when I get mad."

"You can't just say awful things and take them back," you explained. "That's not how this works. You don't get to hurt me and then show up at my door thinking I'll forgive you because you 'didn't mean it'."

“Y/n, please,” Rafe begs, his eyes turning glossy. “You have to forgive me, I need you in my life.”

“Clearly you don’t, Rafe,” you sneered. “You told me otherwise, actually.”

“You can’t do this to me!” he said angrily, his emotions brewing and threatening to spill over. He hated when he yelled at you, but he was so frustrated. “Don’t do this.”

You couldn’t ignore the twist in your heart at the tears in his eyes. Usually you would fold, but you were determined this time. He hurt you, more than he ever had. You couldn’t let him off that easily. You were doing fine without him.

“I have to go,” you said, looking back to your house looming behind you. “Bye Rafe.”

“Please,” he repeated, his voice barely over a whisper. You closed the door, leaving him standing alone on your front lawn, exactly as he had done to you.

You still hadn’t decided if revenge was the best medicine, but it was the only way for him to listen. To truly listen. If he really cared about you, he would come back with a real apology, not excuses.

Rafe stood wide eyed, staring blankly in front of him. He bit his lip, the back of his throat burning as he tried to hold back tears. He hadn’t meant for things to happen this way.

You were all he had, the only person who really cared about him, and who he cared about. Now you were gone, and it was all his fault.

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taglist: @evermorx89 @glenpowellswifee69 @xxbirkindoll2 (🫶🏻🫶🏻)

[neo127]

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ seeing their lock screen

genre. hcs, established relationship & fluff cw. none!! ⋆·˚ ༘ * idk what this is i just wanted to write something

archives

HEESEUNG — “you’re so whipped.” riki chuckled once he saw heeseung’s lock screen. the picture was of you sleeping and upon finding out, you were mortified. you had no idea when heeseung had even taken the picture, nor were you aware of him using it as his wallpaper.

“i’m going to kill you.” you muttered, looking into his eyes with a serious expression. heeseung simply rolled his eyes before pulling you close to his chest and placing a kiss on your head.

“but you look so cute when you’re sleeping.” he replied, a teasing smirk on his face. you tried to fight your way out of his grasp but unfortunately he was stronger. you laid limp in his arms, pretending to be angry but secretly loving the fact that you were on his lock screen.

JAY — he had left his phone in the living room to charge near the couch as he cooked dinner for you two. you sat down watching a movie, your focus disrupted by jay’s phone lighting up. a tad bit curious, you peeked over to see that only his dad had texted him. but what really caught your attention was your picture, one jay had taken on a cafe date of yours. the light from outside casted a perfect glow onto your face as you smiled at the camera- it was one of those photos you thought you looked beautiful in. you smiled to yourself and turned back to the movie, barely paying attention since your thoughts were plagued of jay looking at your face every time he turned on his phone.

JAKE — “it’s hilarious, i have to show you.” jake chuckled to himself as he pulled out his phone from his jeans. he had found yet another tiktok video that he just had to show you despite him sending about a million of them to you a day. when jake turned on his phone, you caught a glimpse of your faces before his home screen was displayed.

“wait!” you pause jake from opening the app and try to snatch the phone out of his hands but he dodged you.

“i want to see your lock screen.” you pouted, giving the man your best puppy dog eyes. jake scoffed, his ears suddenly turning red. after staring jake down for about a minute, he sighed and showed you his phone. the picture was of you two from a photobooth. there were a few different photos but your favorite happened to be in the middle of the screen. you were holding jake’s face while placing a kiss on his cheek and he was smiling widely.

“very cute.” you giggled before kissing his nose.

SUNGHOON — “ugh, why is that your lock screen? i hate that picture.” sunghoon groaned once he saw the picture you set as your wallpaper. it was a silly selfie sunghoon had sent to you one day when you were apart but of course, he still managed to look handsome.

“you look fine. what’s yours anyway? is it me?” you asked, watching as sunghoon turned on his phone to reveal the default wallpaper. a wave a disappointment washed over you, even though it wasn’t that big of a deal. sunghoon chuckled at your sad expression before unlocking his phone and revealing that his home screen was a picture of you. a very unflattering photo.

“you want to complain about my lock screen and yet your wallpaper is a photo of me mid blink?!”

SUNOO — “i can’t believe you have me as your wallpaper on your desktop.” you spoke up after gawking at the screen. sunoo looked over your shoulder at the picture before smiling.

“you’re also my wallpaper on my phone, see?” sunoo said before showing you the device. sure enough the picture was a 0.5 selfie of you two on one of your many dates. it had been a favorite of sunoo’s and he thought you looked gorgeous in the photo.

“i also have a polaroid on the back of my phone.” he added, showing you yet another picture of yourself. you smiled, finding it adorable how obsessed your boyfriend was with you.

“i love you a lot sunoo.”

JUNGWON — “can you see my screen?” jungwon asked during your facetime. the two of you we’re currently apart and missing each other like crazy so you decided to schedule a call. jungwon wanted to show you a new game that he had been obsessed with and remembered that you could share your screen on facetime.

“awh won, your lock screen is so cute.” you cooed as you observed the picture of you together. it was one jungwon had taken of you two, nose to nose and smiling at each other. it was one of your favorites and looking at it only made you miss your boyfriend more.

“it helps looking at your face often when you’re not around.” jungwon admitted with a rosy tint to his cheeks. you smiled at the boy, really wishing that you could have him in your arms.

“i miss you too, won.”

RIKI — “what picture do you have set as your lock screen?” you asked one day as you and riki laid on his bed. you were curious since you had changed yours to yet another riki ‘boyfriend picture’ you had taken.

“none of your business.” your boyfriend grumbled, causing you to roll over and start wrestling the boy for his phone. riki began to laugh, his long arms successfully keeping the device out of your reach as you poked and pulled at his body.

“ugh fine, get off me though.” riki groaned as he pushed you off of his stomach. he finally showed you only for it to end up being a picture of tokyo that he had taken.

“what about your home screen?” you asked, still slightly hopeful. riki unlocked his phone to reveal the same exact photo. you frowned and riki smirked at your disappointed expression.

“i’m assuming you were hoping to see yourself? did you even see the back of my phone?” he asked, turning the device around to show you a polaroid picture tucked under his case. it was a candid picture of you but to riki, it was definitely one of your best photos.

“all is forgiven.” you joked before placing a kiss on his cheek.