#i love the show but the writing loses me when it comes to that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arbitrarykiwi · 7 hours ago

Note

HELOOOOOOO!! I hope you are having a good morning, evening and or night!

Before I go on with my request (with as much detail as possible) Your writing is PHENOMENAL! Straight up a blessing from God! It is impressive how spicy and delicious you create your fics! Like, PLEASE! keep serving!! I’ll eat it all up!!!

As for my request: I would like to ask for a spicy fic of Thanos and Nam-Gyu with a plus sized! female! reader, you know, big tummy, thicc thighs, stretch marks, all the benefits of a bbw.

To put in simple detail, the reader is insecure of her body because well, people judge her for her weight and assume that she is just a gluttonous freak. She always tries to go out with friends to see if a guy would approach her but is proven hard to do so when she is timid and wants to hide herself from glaring eyes. The reader is losing hope of finding love until one faithful night, when her friends dragged her into a club to get fucked up, she remained sober but doesn’t realize that has gotten the attention of the legend Thanos and his buddy Nam-Gyu.

I apologize if it’s a long description of what I want. But you get the whole point. I do also want to add a few key words: Creampie, Oral (f receiving, because I need their heads to be squished by the readers thiccc thighs like a watermelon) (and M Receiving) praise, name calling (of your choice), double penetration. (The rest is up to you!)

That will be all! And if you are alright with me sending another request similar to the one I asked at some point (not now obviously) please let me know! And don’t rush art!

Thank you and keep up the hard work! 🩷🩷🩷

More to Love and Double the Fun!

OMGEEE thank you for your kind words!!! 🫶🫶 this was so fun to write I hope I did it justice!!! Admittedly it is so hard to write threesome content but I love it so much it’s so worth the work!! We always gotta have application for thick thighs, stretch marks n tummies!!! And I know both of them would loooove a thick girl 😩 I apologize for the wait! I hope you enjoy 🤭🤭

Warnings: smut (18+) , threesome, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, name calling (baby, pretty girl, pretty thing, cocksucker, probably more), fingering, face sitting, big thigh and stretch mark love, dirty talk, cum play, double penetration (2 cocks in pussy) , creampie, read at your own risk

You originally found yourself at a house party. You were sat on a couch in the corner of some frat guys apartment, watching anxiously as the people around you are doing all sorts of drugs and knocking back straight liquor like it was water. It wasn’t your scene. You felt out of place, this was not where you wanted to be.

You wanted to be home, cozied up in bed in your old sleep shirt that’s 5 sizes too big and the fuzzy pants that you’ve had for a couple months- watching some show and scrolling on your phone. Alone. In your peaceful home, away from potential judging stares.

But nope. Your friends somehow convinced you to come out to this party, and got you to wear something you never thought you would. So there you sat, playing with the end of the dress that stopped at right under your ass. You kept trying to tug it down over your plush thighs to no avail.

You felt like you had to constantly adjust your posture, sit up straighter, trying to hide your figure in anyway possible. You felt like you looked horrible, you didn’t think you looked like the other girls at the party who were thin and long legged. And fuck, they all looked stunning, but you? You didn’t feel like you were anything compared to them. You honestly had given up on ‘looking’- you knew your luck for relationships or even just hookups was never good, so you had no other hopes for tonight at this party.

You just wanted to go home- and home you would eventually go. But not your home.

You didn’t notice how they spotted you at the house party like drug dogs sniffing out a big bust. You didn’t notice how they slowly began to move closer to you. You didn’t even notice them at all until they’re sitting down next to you- one on either side of you.

They’re effortlessly swooning you. To your right is the purple haired male who introduces himself as Thanos. He’s suave, confident and just the perfect amount of cocky. To your left is Nam-gyu, seemingly more calm than the purple haired friend he was accompanied by but he had an aura of mystery, a wicked grin, a smooth talking mouth, and a carelessness to him that makes him all the more enticing. When they introduced themselves you already felt like you were under their spell, it didn’t take much for them to get you wrapped around their fingers.

They find you charming, not taking a single sip of alcohol, not partaking in the various drugs that are passed around, and squirming under their gazes when they’re squeezing even closer to you. “Not enjoying the party, cutie?” The one with purple hair asks, his hand beginning to dance along your thighs. You are fixated on the thigh black like tattoo that travels up his arm and disappears under the sleeve of his shirt.

You shake your head, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Yeah….thought so…” The man to your left says, his hand lifting to grab your chin and turn you to look at him. His hair is dark black, tucked behind his ears, strands falling in front of his face. “We’ve been watching you, pretty thing…don’t look like you’re having too much fun…” he says, eyes looking over your face like he’s studying you. “Would you let us take you out of here? Maybe do something a little more fun?” He says, a grin playing on his lips. You find yourself nodding.

And that’s how you ended up at one of their apartments. You’re not even sure who’s, maybe they lived together. You didn’t know and couldn’t be bothered to care. You’re guided into the bedroom in a mess of kisses, they’re passing you back and forth- if you weren’t kissing one their mouth would dance along your neck, only releasing to attach back onto your lips.

When you’re led into a bed room, Nam-gyu releases your lips from his. You’re left breathless. Thanos is pulling off your neck and stepping back to admire his work. Your neck is spotted with red, purple, and blue marks on either said. From both of them. It’s a macabre work of art that has both of them feeling the blood rush to their cocks.

“Though I love this cute lil’ dress you have on…” Thanos says, his hand pulling on the strap of your dress, beginning to pull it off your shoulder, “I really rather have it off you.”

“Mhm…” Nam-Gyu agrees, his hands running up the curve of your waist. You’re suddenly worried, what if they don’t like what’s underneath. It’s a irrational thought, you know it, but years of seeing girls who look nothing like you easily sweep men off their feet while you were hardly able to score a date- left you feeling a little more than self conscious.

You hate that they can sense it, because they’re both drawing closer to you, Thanos capturing you in a quick kiss while Nam-Gyu runs his hand down your waist to your hip. “Easy, pretty girl..” Nam-gyu coos, his hand reaching up to brush his knuckles against your cheek. “We wouldn’t both bring you here if we didn’t think you were so. Fucking. Attractive.” Thanos finishes as he pulls away from your lips, kissing your neck to punctuate his last three words.

“Let us make you feel good, princess…you deserve it.” Nam-gyu says his nose running along your jaw, breath dancing along your skin. “F-fuck o-okay, yes.” You say nodding erratically your hands reaching up to tangle in their hair, one hand on Thanos and one on Nam-gyu.

With your word they’re pulling your dress off in a swift motion and pushing you lightly on the bed. They physically don’t give you any minute to become self conscious being so exposed in front of them because they are joining you on the bed, one on either side of you. They mirror each other, their elbows resting on the bed their faces propped up on one hand. Their other hands runs up and down your stomach, feather light touches that has your body tensing.

“So pretty….” Thanos mumbles, his fingers dancing under your breast, right under the wire of the lace bra you had on. “Ain’t she?” Nam-gyu says with a smile his hand lowering itself to your lower stomach, fingertips dancing along the hem of your underwear, fingers stopping to play with the small bow on the front. “Wearin’ the cutest little matching’ set too…” the raven haired man says, dropping his head to your chest to place open mouthed kisses along the swell of your breast before pulling away and placing his head back against his palm.

You think you’re biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, your panties are clinging uncomfortably to your cunt, soaked with your arousal. “Look good enough ‘ta eat.” Thanos mumbles as he drops his head down to your neck, licking a stripe up your neck, teeth stopping to bite at your ear lobe. You finally break, releasing a moan when one of Nam-gyu’s hands comes up to grope the flesh of your breast. He’s kneading the flesh in his hand over the fabric of your bra, his hand only pulling away to begin to rub his thumb over your nipple. Even under the fabric of the bra, your nipple begins to harden at his touch.

Thanos silences the moan that comes out of you by kissing you. His tongue enters into your open mouth, twirling with your tongue in a sloppy kiss. Nam-gyu’s hand moves down your body, returning back to the hem of your panties. Thanos tattooed hand is meeting his, resting next to his counterpart’s hand, fingers dancing along the hem of the lace fabric.

Thanos pulls away, wanting to hear the sounds you make as both their hands slip into your panties. They’re deft fingers working messily against your cunt- feeling you. “Ohhhhh….” Nam-gyu is humming out when you let out a high pitched whine, “that’s a cute sound…gonna sound so pretty when you’re full of our cocks..” he muses, his nose running against your jaw, his fingers tapping against your clit.

“Pussy ‘s so fuckin’ soft….” Thanos hisses through clenched teeth. “Already so wet for us…bet you could just take us right now..” he’s whispering in a hushed voice, eyes locking with yours, watching as your eyebrows turn up and you moan. “Mhm…you like that idea…already wanting to take our cocks…good girl..” he rasps but he shakes his head. “We can’t do that yet pretty girl, gotta savor all of you…can’t rush the finale.”

With that, Thanos is using his free hand that’s not circling your tight hole to pull down your bra, your breasts spilling out over the fabric. Nam-gyu is working to do the same thing on the other side, releasing your tits fully. “God you’re fucking picturesque..” Nam-gyu is growling out, mouth immediately latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth greedily and rolling his tongue around the flesh.

Your back is arching off the bed and your breath comes out in coked gasps, your hands gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles turn white. Thanos is following in Nam-gyu’s footsteps, his mouth beginning to suck the flesh of your breast around your into his mouth to leave purple bruises anywhere he put his mouth on. The feeling of their fingers working against your cunt in differing patterns, leaving you no room to catch your breath and their mouths working along your tits has you writhing against the sheets, even more our your thick, milky arousal spills out of your pussy and around their fingers, soiling your panties even further.

Nam-gyu is pulling away from your breast with a lewd ‘pop’, a string of his saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue. He’s scooting down on the bed, Thanos hand coming up to replace Nam-gyu’s mouth, painted nails pulling at your nipple. Nam-gyu is kissing down your chest and stomach. You whine, trying to tense up, to suck in, even with the pleasure you’re receiving you can’t help but be self conscious. You jump when you feel his teeth nip at your flesh.

“None of that. We’re all over you, playing with your pussy…don’t need to try and hide from us when we want all of you.” He punctuates his words with a kiss that’s placed right over a group of stretch marks on your lower stomach. It makes you kick your head back and moan out, your body relaxing back under his touch.

Nam-gyu’s hand removes itself from your cunt, both his hands then coming to grip at the sides of your panties, beginning to pull them off of you. They’re discarded somewhere in the room and both of them are working together to push your legs open. Thanos releases himself from your breasts to look down at your pussy.

They’re both just admiring you, taking you all in. Your cunts leaking, your arousal smeared around your thighs thanks to the both of them. Thanos is groaning at the sight, the hand that’s still between your thighs spreading into a ‘V’ shape to give them a better view. “Perfect body and a perfect cunt…” Nam-gyu is muttering, eyes trained on your throbbing pussy. Thanos is nodding in agreement, “ohhh look at you….” He’s humming, “she’s fucking soaking… needy fuckin’ thing. ‘S all you needed huh? Someone to fuck you like you deserve? Pretty fuckin girl with a pretty fuckin’ cunt, it’s a miracle no one’s claimed you yet…” Thanos rambles.

They’re pulling away from you for just a moment to rid themselves of their shirt and pants leaving them only

In their boxers. You can see the large tents that are formed by their hardened cocks. It makes your mouth water. Your attention is pulled away when Nam-Gyu speaks again.

“Well now someone has..” Nam-Gyu finishes, looking to his purple haired counterpart then to you, “we’re gonna treat you right…give you..” he says placing a kiss to your inner thigh, “and her…” he says, a kiss pressed to your pubic bone, right above your clit, “the attention you deserve.”

Their filthy words make you shiver, your eyes screwing shut and your lip becoming caught between your teeth once again. They manage to rid you of your bra and underwear, their hands working against you in such a skillful way that it has your mind hazy. They maneuver you the way they want, and you’re bonelessly allowing them. Their hands still working along your body as they situate you exactly how they wanted.

They stand up off the bed, pulling down their boxers in similar manners. Your mouth falls open when you see their thick cocks spring free from their confines and slap against their stomachs. They’re back on the bed and crawling over to you in an instant.

You’re laid back on the bed, Nam-Gyu’s lips working against yours in a languid motion that makes you feel like you’re drunk. You don’t even realize Thanos is situating himself down on the bed and in between your thighs until he’s beginning to push your thighs open. You’re pulling away from the kiss to look down at the purple haired man. A bashful, almost worried expression on your face as he pushes your thighs back.

It’s weird that he seems to read your mind, shaking his head with a soft laugh. He’s turning to the side to begin leaving kisses over the inside of your thighs, tongue running over the stretch marks that litter the skin. The feeling has your head dropping back to the pillow and a blissful breath falling out of your lips. “Pretty fuckin’ girl….” Nam-gyu says lowly, dropping his head to place open mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck.

“And prettiest fuckin’ pussy.” Thanos is mumbling against the skin of your inner thigh, light kisses moving inward until he’s playing a kiss directly on your throbbing clit. A gasp rips its way up your throat, your body jolting at the sensation. Nam-gyu pulls back from your neck to turn and look down at Thanos.

Thanos is pushing your thighs back and tilting your hips upwards- he wasn’t going to be selfish! Nam-gyu deserved to see your cute pussy too! “Ohhhhh…” Nam-gyu coos, reaching down to run his fingers along your cunt, wetting his digits with his arousal, “such a pretty fuckin’ cunt. Already so wet…” he hums, fingers dropping lower to scoop up the arousal that’s dripping from your pussy.

He removes his hand, bringing it up to his face and sucking his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his fingers when he tastes you for the first time. You have to look away, it’s embarrassing. “Taste so fuckin’ good..” he growls out as he removes his fingers from his mouth and drops it to your neck, squeezing lightly before running it up to cup your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “It’s cute. Ya’ tryna hide when you got two men about to fuck you like the perfect slut you really are.” He says in a soft voice, his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

You whine in response, eyes fluttering shut again when you feel Thanos release your thighs and lay them over his shoulder, his breath fanning your cunt. He places a couple kisses on your clit, sucking it into his mouth briefly each time. Nam-gyu watches diligently as your face contorts each time Thanos makes contact with your pussy. It’s precious really, he can’t help himself but to kiss you once more. His kiss is hypnotizing and as Thanos mouth captures your cunt in a messy kiss, Nam-Gyu is swallowing your moans.

Thanos’ tongue works wonders on your pussy, lapping at your folds like a dog, swallowing down every ounce of arousal that seeps out you for tight hole. His tattooed hands are gripping at the plush of your hips, gliding upwards to grab at your waist. As he feels along your body and eats your pussy he swears he’s in heaven, the feeling of your soft flesh under his hands and the taste of your cunt has him reeling.

Nam-gyu pulls away, dropping his head down to latch his mouth onto your pebbled nipple. Without your mouth occupied in a kiss, your moans echo throughout the room. Thanos is relentless, slurping at your cunt like it gave him some sort of life essence. He grinds your hips down onto your tongue, sucking your labias into his mouth messily as he’s swallowing down every drop of your thick, sweet arousal that your cunt offers him. Your thighs are squeezing around his head but he doesn’t shove them open. He’s moaning into your cunt the harder your thighs squeeze around his head. It’s hard enough that it cuts off his hearing, allowing him to hear his own rapid heartbeat.

He shifts up, sucking your puffy clit into his mouth, tongue flicking it back and forth before releasing it. You can only sob out choked and garbled praises, the sensation of Nam-Gyu sucking on your tits and Thanos devouring your cunt having you a mindless heap on the bed. “O-oh fuck.” You cry out, tilting your head up off the bed with all your strength to look at them. Both their eyes are on you, watching your every reaction. Nam-gyu pulls away from your breast, tongue falling out of his mouth to flick at your nipple- eyes never straying from yours as he makes a show of playing with your nipple, lathing his tongue on the rock hard peak for you to watch. And Thanos is the same, dark eyes on you as he sucks your clit in and out of your mouth, pulling away to spit on your cunt before diving back in to circle his tongue around your clit.

Your head falls back to the pillow, the visual proving far too much for you to handle. Your eyes are screwing shut and you’re shaking. Nam-gyu is pulling away from your breast and turning down to look at Thanos. The view of the purple hair rapper eating your messy pussy only serves to make his cock even harder.

“I need to taste her cunt fucking Christ…” Nam-gyu is hissing out, hand reaching down in between your legs to grab a fist full of Thanos’ hair and pull him off your cunt. Thanos’ tongue is lolled out of his mouth, still flicking at your clit. He fights against Nam-guy’s hold and dives back in, a loud slurp resounds in the room as he gets just a bit more of your sweet arousal to coat his tongue.

He’s pulling back with a laugh, “Alright, alright! You can have your turn.” Thanos chuckles, looking towards Nam-Gyu with a wicked grin. His face shines with your arousal, his tongue running over his lips to get the excess off. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy…it would be criminal not to share.” He muses, pulling himself so he’s sitting.

You’re out of breath, your mind hazy, you can feel them pulling you up off the bed, maneuvering you. You end up facing Thanos who’s standing up off the bed. His knees touch the edge of the mattress. His hands are holding your face, brushing your wild hair back and out of your eyes. You just a little when you feel Nam-gyu’s hands hook around your thighs. You look down to see him lying on the bed below you. His breath tickles your pussy, your arousal damn near leaking out of you.

“Sit on my face pretty girl…wanna taste you.” He mumbles, looking up at you through thick lashes. You whimper and begin to lower yourself. Admittedly you’re still hovering but he lifts his head off the bed a bit and his tongue licks a long, wide stripe up your pussy. A high pitched moan is ripped from you as you swivel your hips on his tongue. When you begin to be pulled down further, Nam-Gyu desperately pulling you closer to him, you let out a worried gasp, one hand planting itself on the bed to keep yourself hovering, even if it was just the slightest bit.

His hands grip at your thighs, you head tilting down to look at the raven haired man between your thighs. “W-wait, I-“ you choke on your words. He looked up at you through thick lashes, hands gripping at your thick thighs, eyebrows screwing together in irritation. “Don’t give me none of that bullshit..” he growls, breath fanning your cunt as he spoke. He knows you were about to say something about being too heavy. He turns his head slightly to bite at the inside of your thigh, “I said sit on my fucking face. Not hover. I’m well aware what I’m asking for.” He says lowly, one hand releasing your thigh to move back and slap your ass. “You’re a good girl. Now fucking listen.” He mumbles, turning his head back forward and pulling you down fully onto his face. His tongue is vicious, lathing around the entirety of your cunt and quickly sucking your clit into his mouth.

You cry out, falling forward into Thanos. Your head connects with his bare torso. Against your sternum you can feel his hard cock. He laughs at your reaction to Nam-guy’s tongue beginning to lap at your puffy cunt. The purple haired rapper looks down at you, hands coming to cup your face and hold your head up/ forcing you to meet his gaze. Nam-gyu is moaning into your pussy, the obscene slurping sounds coming from between your thighs just makes you whine.

Nam-gyu’s hands are creating a bruising grip on your thighs, guiding you back and forth over his tongue. “H-holy fuck.” You moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head. The raven haired man under you pulls away for a second, his breath heavy as he stares at your sopping cunt. He’s back on you soon after, shifting you upward so he can fuck his tongue into your tight heat. Your eyes fluttered back open, moans falling from your lips like a recited prayer as you open your eyes fully to look at Thanos.

“He eating your sweet cunt good? Hm?” Thanos coos at you, bending down a bit to get closer to you. “Bet you’re fuckin making a mess out of his face.” He muses, his thumb beginning to pull at your lower lip. You nod frantically in response, he’s laughing and mimicking your nod, “Uh-huh…why don’t you feel him how good it feels, pretty girl.”

“S-so Fuckin- fuck!!” You’re cut off when Nam-Gyu grinds his nose up into your clit, pulling you down impossibly further onto his face. He could be smothered between your head and he would die happy. The feeling of your thighs clenching around his head anytime his tongue trusts itself deep within your tight walls has him groaning into your cunt, the vibrations only making more of your thick, syrupy arousal pour out of your pussy and onto his tongue. “So f-fucking good ohmygod.” You cry out, your hips grinding down onto his face.

When your full weight sinks on to Nam-Gyu’s face you can hear him growl into your pussy. Your head tilts down to catch how his eyes flutter shut, rolling so far back into his head that you’re sure he can see his own skull. The sweet, saccharine taste of your arousal that costs his tongue is a taste he could get addicted to.

Thanos is pulling your head back up to face him, “hmm,” he hums, his thumbs circling your skin. “slutty pussy just wetting his face.” The purple haired rapper muses, his hips canting forwards just a bit, the tip of his cock rubbing against your pillowy lips. You look up to him and your mouth drops open. You’re leaning forward taking him eagerly into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his tip, the salty taste of his pre-cum overwhelming your taste buds and urging you to suck him into your mouth farther.

Nam-Gyu removes his face from your cunt to look at his work. Your pussy is raw and swollen from both their ruthless onslaught of devouring your cunt. It’s a beautiful sight thats making his cock jump against his stomach. When he tilts his head backwards ever so slightly to see you begin to take Thanos’ cock down your throat he’s growling, his dick twitching against his stomach again and he’s back on your cunt.

This time he moves himself lower, pulling you back down fully onto his face. His tongue thrusts itself into your cunt his nose bumping against your clit. Your moans are muffled by Thanos’ cock that begins to shove itself down your throat. One of his tattooed hand cradles your face, rubbing at your jaw that’s stretched impossibly wide around his dick. “Look at you…” Thanos coos down at you, “suckin my cock like the good cocksucker you are…” he hums, patting your cheek.

You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes as his tip begins to squeeze past the tight ring of your throat. “Doin’ so well even while Gyu’s devouring your sweet pussy.” He praises, nodding when you moan around his cock in response. “Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good”

Your eyes flutter closed at his praise and your hips begin to grind down on Nam-gyu’s tongue. You’re letting out choked and garbled gags around Thanos, lashes becoming wet with tears. The sounds ringing through your ears only messy Nam-gyu’s face further. Nam-gyu is moaning and growling into your cunt as he laps at your folds like a dog and Thanos is in front of you rambling off sentences filthy praise cut off by groans as he thrusts into your mouth.

“F-fuck sweetheart I could cum down your throat.” Thanos rasps out trusting balls deep into your mouth once last time. He holds you there, nose pressed against his pelvis for a few seconds before pulling you off of him by your hair, you’re coughing and gasping for air looking up at him in a mess of tears and spit. “But I really want to cum inside your pussy.” He finishes, his voice a low growl.

Nam-gyu is pulling away from your cunt in a mess of spit and your arousal, “need to be inside this precious cunt I know she’s fuckin’ tight.” The black haired Malle under you emphasizes his words by sucking your puffy clit into his mouth once more.

Their minds clouded by their own excitement to sink balls deep into your tight hole, they’re moving your fucked out form into the next position they wanted you in with expert skill.

Your back is pressed to Nam-gyu’s chest the fat mushroom tip of his cock pushing at your entrance. Thanos is shifting closer, settling in between Nam-gyu’s legs. Thanos’ tattooed hands run up your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest, the leaking tip of his thick cock settling above Nam-Gyu’s. You can already feel the stretch that’s to come when both their tips dance along the tight ring of your cunt. “I-“ you choke on your own words, eyes trained on the view of the two of them nestled close to your pussy. “There’s n-no way I’ll be able to take both of you.” You whine, but as you speak your hips are moving on their own, trying to push yourself down onto them.

“Oh you’re gonna take it..” Nam-Gyu growls from under you, hands gripping at your stomach and keeping you from moving any more, “you’re practically tryna’ fuck yourself down on us, sweetheart. You can take it, like the good whore you are.” Thanos echos with a tantalizing tilt of his head.

Then they’re pushing into you. The stretch is brutal, you think you’re being split in half- but fuck does it feel so good. “Fuuuuckk that’s it…” Nam-Gyu hisses. The feeling of his tip slipping into your cunt, pressed against Thanos’, accompanied by a wet ‘pop’ causes his whole body to shudder under you. You’re letting out a silent scream one hand reaching back around you and grip at Nam-gyu’s long black locks and the other reaching in front of you and pressing against Thanos’ pelvis.

“Greedy cunt’s just suckin us both in.” Thanos growls, hands pressing your thighs back even more, your knees practically touching your ears. It makes them sink in deeper, the feeling of their two thick cocks sinking into you- stretching you out and ruining your sweet cunt for anyone who fucks you in the future- has you seeing stars already.

“So fuckin’ wet.” Nam-Gyu hisses, his words right behind your ear causing a shiver to run up the entirety of your spine. They keep inching into you, gaping your cunt around their cocks. Thanos is above you, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows upturned. The feeling of your messy pussy gripping around his length and the secondary sensation of Nam-gyu’s cock sliding against the underside of his thick length. It’s a beautiful sight and you can only imagine that

Nam-Gyu has a similar expression on his face. You’re moaning out a choked sob when one of Nam-gyu’s hands slid down your stomach to splay across your pubic bone. Two of his fingers connect with your clit, rubbing slow, light circles on the throbbing bud.

You let out a high pitched, wanton cry, your back arching heavenward. Your head tilts down to watch how the two cocks that push into you. It’s a mean stretch, your pussy looks like it’s about to be split in half, but fuck it feels so good. “‘S right..almost in sweet girl…” Thanos hums, hand coming up to pinch one of your pebbled nipples. You moan out a babbled mix their names as you feel them begin to push in the rest of the way.

“Biiig stretch….” Thanos is cooing out and then they both skin into your tight cunt fully. When they both sink balls deep into you, you’re letting out a silent scream, feeling unbelievably full. They both let out echoing moans, it’s a delicious sound. They settle inside you, stilling to let you get adjusted. “O-oh f-fuck.” You let out in a shaky, strangled cry, your eyes never leaving from the view of the two of them gaping your cunt with both their cocks. Nam-gyu’s fingers work deftly against your clit, smearing the arousal that leaks out of you. His two fingers splitting into a ‘V’ shape and moving down to feel along the sides of your cunt- feeling how wide you were split on the two of them.

“Ohhhh…look at you…” you hear Nam-Gyu coo in a low rasp, his lips tickling against the shell of your ear. “Takin both of us allll the way in your tight fucking cunt.” He growls, thrusting up into you the slightest bit. The movement makes you moan out, trying to squeeze your legs shut.

Thanos hisses when he feels the sensation of Nam-Gyu’s cock drag agains his and your cunt spasming around him. His tattooed hands push your thighs back more, keeping them open. “Nuh-uh. You’re gonna keep them fuckin’ open. Gonna take it like the good girl you are.” Thanos says, leaning down closer to you, beginning to rock his hips ever so slightly, the man under you following suit.

The feeling of both their cock pumping into in alternating thrusts has your eyes rolling back and your tongue falling out of your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this stretched out, this full. It was a painful, delicious stretch that has your mind completely blank. It was a feeling you know could never be replicated, less it happens again.

“Ohhh there you go, that’s it sweet girl. Taking it so well…we stretchin’ out your cute cunt good?” Thanos coos down at you, you can’t even think of a coherent sentence. Nam-gyu’s hand that’s not playing with your clit reaches up and grip at your jaw harshly, forcing your gaze forward to Thanos. “Answer ‘em sweetheart, we’re treatin’ ya real nice, the least you could do is answer us…” he hums out in your ear.

“Mhm! Mhm! S-so fucking good.” You cry out, words slurred your head nodding frantically in Nam-Gyu’s grasp. You feel them pick up the pace, hammering into your cunt. A sick, wet squelching begins to echo through the room. It only makes you moan more, just more evidence of how much you enjoy the two cocks gaping your cunt.

Thanos is watching the thick white strings that dirty your ass and connect his thighs to you any time he draws his hips back. He can see the milky white ring that’s forming around the base Nam-gyu’s cock any time the man under you draws his dick out of your cunt to push it right back in. The wetness that leaks out of your pussy only making their cocks slide into you easier and against each other easier.

“Sloppy fuckin’ thing.” Nam-gyu coos in your ear from under you, he can hear the squelching coming from your weeping cunt grow louder as their thrusts pick up speed.

It’s shameful how quick you’re fucked into a mindless heap, eyes crossing and rolling back, mouth agape, moan after moan after moan coming from your chest. Every drag of their cocks along your tight walls feels like you’ll be split open but it makes your pussy weep. Your arousal is coating their cocks in a thick white sheen, any time their cock pull out of you more is added to the mess.

“Tell us how it feels, sweetheart.” Thanos directs at you, bringing you somewhat out of your fucked out haze. You turn your head to face him, opening your mouth to respond but all that comes out is broken syllables. You cry out, head throwing back before you’re sucking in a huge breath and trying to speak again.

“F-feels…oh fuck!…’s so much. B-both s-so big, ohmygod.” You’re screaming out a mix of their names, your sentence getting cut short when Nam-gyu adjust his legs, bending his knees and planing his feet into the mattress. This position only made them reach even deeper inside you.

Nam-gyu’s fingers were still working on your clit, messily spreading around your arousal, his cock jackhammering up into you at a faster pace. The new adjustment also allowed Thanos more room to shift closer to you, driving his cock deeper with in you.

You’re pretty sure you’re crying at this point, you can’t help it! It feels too good! The room is hot and the air is thick with sweat, you’re sure the neighbors in the apartment complex could hear as you screamed out in ecstasy as they fuck you down onto their cocks.

They both begin to feel the way your cunt begins to spasm more erratically, squeezing both of them in a diabolical rhythmic motion that has both of them growling out a mixture of profanity and praise. You can feel yourself getting close, the two cocks relentlessly pounding your tight cunt making you begin to slip into your orgasm unusually fast.

“Gonna cum, baby? You close?” Thanos questions, grinning down at you as he pile drives his hips into your cunt. “Can feel you fuckin’ chockin’ my cock.” Nam-gyu’s fingers pinch your clit making you let out a choked sob as response. You’re drooling at this point, a mess of your saliva collecting on the pillow beside you. “Mhm! Holy fuck!” You squeak, your hips rolling down to meet every thrust of their cocks, trying to push them as deep as possible. The feeling of both the tips of their dicks hitting your cervix as they stretch your cunt out obscenely wide is a feeling that you think it’s as close to heaven as you’d ever get.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum so deep in this perfect fucking cunt.” Nam-gyu is growling out, “Were both gonna fill this sweet pussy up, ‘s that what you want pretty girl?” He adds, teeth biting at your ear lobe. “Y-yes oh my god…hah!…yes please!” Your words are broken up by wrecked moans everytime they both sink balls deep into you. They’re ruthless, alternating thrusts so you never had a moment to truly breathe.

Thanos moves one hand off your hip up to your breasts. He’s gripping at them as the bounce with each thrust, only adding to the pleasure you’re already receiving. His grip is harsh, nearly painful- but that what makes it all the more better. “C’mon cum f’us pretty thing. Wanna see you make a fuckin’ mess of our cocks…” he’s growling. And as if they communicate telepathically, they’re both speeding up their thrusts, each thrust having a mean upward angle that pounds both their cocks into your g-spot every single time.

Nam-gyu’s fingers return to making deft circles on your clit, your wetness allowing his finger to glide over the bud with such smoothness it has you arching your back off of his chest, “ohmygodohmygod…” you’re beginning to babble out, it’s a mixture of choked sobs and high pitched moans more than it’s actual words, “‘m gonna cum h-holy fuck!!” You scream out. You cum violently, gripping their cocks in such a vice it keeps their cocks stuck inside of you. When they both try to pull out to fuck you through your orgasm and find they can’t because you’re greedily sucking them in- they cum one after the other. “Oh fuck!” Thanos growls before he’s painting your walls white. “‘M cumming, f-fucking take it.” Nam-gyu rasps from under you.

They opt to sink balls deep into your tight pussy, wanting to cum as deep as possible- wanting to feel the full effect of having your wet, spasming walls around their thick length’s as they pump you full of cum. They roll their hips in deep grinding motions, dragging out your orgasm in the most delicious way.

The deep groans and growls, even higher pitched moans they let out as they cum deep within you is music to your ears, it’s something you’ll surely replay in your head over and over for weeks to come. It’s so warm, it’s so much. You can feel every thick rope of their cum fill you to the brim.

You’re sandwiched between them, feeling so unbelievably full. You can feel the way their cum leaks out of you in an obscene thick white mixture, making a mess on Nam-gyu’s pelvis. You’re shivering, body jolting against them, “T-there’s so much..” you’re whining out pathetically, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, hips subconsciously rolling, trying to shove their cum back into you.

They’re both hissing out, Nam-gyu’s hands rapidly coming to hold your hips in an iron grip, the cool metal of his rings digging into your flesh. “Q-quit that, girl, shit.” He’s hissing out through gritted teeth. Both their cocks are so sensitive and any slight movement of your hips drags their cocks against each other. It’s so sensitive it nearly hurts.

“D-did so good.” Thanos says breathlessly, leaning down to place lazy kisses across your breasts. “M-milked me so fuckin good princess.” Nam-gyu is echoing his share of praise once he gathers himself. You have a fucked-out smile on your face that only grows bigger with each word that comes from their lips.

“We’re gonna take real good care of ya.” Thanos says, it’s a soft cooing tone almost like she’s talking to a child. His hand is brushing back your hair that’s stuck to your face by laser of sweat. “Gonna be all ours, sweet girl…” Nam-gyu says in a low tone, his hand trailing up from your hips to your jaw to turn your face towards him.

It’s a messy kiss given it’s all open mouthed and tongue. The way you’re lying on him doesn’t give him easy access but he does what he can. Thanos is gawking at the spectacle, his cock already beginning to harden inside you once more. “Hm….i don’t think she’s full enough…she spilled an awful lot..” Thanos mumbles, his fingers brushing around your cunt where you’re still stretched around them to collect the cum that spilled out of you.

He holds it up and shows it to Nam-gyu who pulls away from the kiss and lifts an eyebrow like he’s in deep thought. “Yeah…you’re right. Can’t have her be so wasteful.” He pouts from under you. A silent gasp leaves your throat as you feel both of them begin to draw back out of your abused cunt to only thrust back in.

This was so much better than the party.

Thank you guys for reading and thank you all for your continued support. This is so fun to me and is a great way for me to relax!! And I love getting to hear all your silly thinks and make em come to life!! - <3 kiwi

Queue for requests : loser!Nam-gyu x Innocent/naïve!reader smut , deadbeat babydaddy!Nam-gyu x reader smut , Nam-gyu x reader angst into fluff , Thanos x reader x Myung-gi smut

If you don’t see your request on the queue just yet, don’t fret 🫶 I’m working my way through them and after each one is posted the queue will update to the next 5 requests that I have in my inbox. I try my best to work in the order of which they were received. Requests are still open just be aware that it will take a bit for me to get to it, but I absolutely will get to it!

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uceyliyahh · 18 hours ago

Text

SNEAKY LINK

Summary: After having a one night stand with each other Kiyana and Jey decided to become sneaky links until she grew attached to him will he be able to feel the same as her?

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Kiyana

word count: 5063

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @tribalhoochie

@charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @raya-hunter01 @lilucey @soccergirlbae

Ø3

"I just want you to be careful sis, I know he's my best friend but if he hurts you I'll end up hurting him,"

"You know I can take care of you better than that Uso over there,"

"Let's go out for dinner sweetheart,"

"The fuck is yo' problem Kiyana?"

KIYANA Today marks a significant moment for me as I prepare to strut down the runway for the fashion show. To say I'm feeling nervous would be an understatement; it's been quite some time since I last walked a runway—around three years, in fact. The anticipation for tonight is building, and I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety.

I had no photoshoots scheduled today because Nathan insisted I concentrate on my runway performance for tonight's fashion show. So, I spent the day at home, enjoying some healthy snacks while watching TV. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, and I picked it up to find a message from Liv.

IMESSAGE 💬 Liv🌸: heyyyy girly tonight is your night girl how are you feeling? Yana💗: I'm feeling pretty nervous for today you know just gives me the jitters Liv🌸: you got this girl, I heard it was going to be a lot of folks there too so you better work girl Yana💗: thanks girly you're so supportive of me Liv🌸: you're my best friend ofc I'm going to support you in the end girl, so what's tea? Yana💗: about? Liv🌸: you and Jey what's happening? Yana💗: nothing really he's been sending me gifts lately and spoiling me like I'm his girl when he's dealing with someone already ain't that weird? Liv🌸: yeah that's weird he should be spoiling Jaida and not you Yana💗: I mean I don't mind it but it's too much honestly you know? Liv🌸: yeah especially yall aren't a couple only sneaky links Yana💗: idk if he's tryna put me in that category of women but it's not happening Liv🌸: I understand so how are you truly feeling about this? Like be honest with me Yana💗: if I'm being honest with you I might have caught feelings for him but it comes and goes especially when I realize that he's dealing with her all those feelings go away Liv🌸: so basically losing and gaining feelings for him again? Yana I don't want this to ruin your mental you're a sweet girl who deserves someone to love on you not just someone who fucks you whenever they please. Yana💗: I hear you bestie but I'm focused on my career that's important to me and whatever he got goin on is none of my business Liv🌸: period I'm glad this whole situation is not tearing you down and I think Cody knows about it... Yana💗: WHAT? Liv🌸: yeah he asked me about today at work I told him I don't what's happening between you and his best friend so he said he'll swing by to see you Yana💗: damn it...I mean he's my brother older brother at that he has every right to know so I'll just talk to him about it. Liv🌸: alrighty girl lmk how it goes and I'll see you tonight! Love you Yana💗: love you too

I was caught off guard by Cody's awareness of the situation. It's likely he saw the pictures of Jey and me shared with my close friends. I should have removed him from that list to prevent this from happening. I set my phone aside and focused on my meal, patiently waiting for Cody to arrive so we could discuss the unfolding drama between Jey and me.

I haven't received any word from him since his visit a few days back, but honestly, I don't mind at all. He's not my partner, and I certainly wasn't his girlfriend—it's as straightforward as that. While enjoying my meal, I heard a knock at the door. Recognizing it was Cody, I paused my show and made my way to the door.

As I swung the door open, I was greeted by the sight of my big brother, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a warm smile on his face. He stepped inside, handing me the flowers with a cheerful demeanor, and I placed them gently on the table.

We settled onto opposite ends of the couch, my legs crossed as I patiently awaited his words.

"Hey, my wonderful sister how are you feeling for today?" Cody asked.

I sighed deeply, "if I'm being honest, I feel nervous for tonight brother," I said.

"You'll do great tonight out there sis even mom will be proud of you when she sees you," I gave him a smile knowing that my brother got my back.

"So what's goin on between you and Jey Yana?" I knew he was going to get straight to it I couldn't lie to my brother that's his best friend of course, "We are just messing around with each other," His facial expressions changed into a confusing one.

"Don't beat around the bush with it sis I understand you're a grown woman,"

I shared with him the story of my night at the club with Jey, revealing how I ended up losing my virginity to him in his hotel room. I also mentioned that Jey and I have developed a secret connection, navigating our relationship as sneaky links.

"Sneaky links?" He asked as I nodded my head.

"Yeah, but we get to live our lives separately and have no strings attached," I said.

"I just want you to be careful sis, I know he's my best friend but if he hurts you I'll end up hurting him," I can understand where my brother was coming from he's been protecting me all of his life since we were kids since we didn't have a father in our lives Cody would do anything for me.

"I understand brother I'm very focused on my career right now and not worried about what he has going on with his shawty," Cody gave me a faint smile knowing that I wasn't letting this get to me especially mentally.

I must admit that I had a bit of a crush on him, but as I explained to Liv, my feelings were quite inconsistent. I realized that he likely didn't share the same feelings, especially considering his current situation with Jaida.

I refused to let myself be foolish over something unattainable and not rightfully mine, so I couldn't understand why he was so worked up about it. Cody lingered a bit longer to fill me in on his journey in wrestling and his rise to becoming a champion, and I couldn't be prouder of him.

I've been caught up in my modeling career lately, which has kept me out of the loop with all the wrestling happenings. Thankfully, my brother has been there to fill me in on everything. After a while, I received a message from Jey himself, but I made him wait while I listened to my brother's updates.

My phone buzzed incessantly with his messages, reminiscent of a needy boyfriend craving attention, prompting me to roll my eyes and silence the notifications.

"Is that Jey texting you?" Cody asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to be rude since you were talking to me about what's been happening," I said.

"It's all good little sis, just see what he wants," I pulled out my phone seeing messages from him.

Big Papa😩 sent four messages

Big Papa😩: wya mama? Big Papa😩: I miss you today is your big day Big Papa😩: I'll be there after I deal with things with shawty Big Papa😩: You ignoring me?

IMESSAGE 💬 Yana💗: no I wasn't ignoring you sir I was busy talking to my brother Big Papa😩: Aw Aight I was just making sure Yana💗: even if I was it would be for a good reason but I don't have a good reasoning right now Big Papa😩: mhm wya tho? Yana💗: I'm at home eating something healthy and talking to Cody Big Papa😩: why you didn't tell me Cody was your brother? Yana💗: you never asked? 🤨 Big Papa😩: don't get smart little girl Yana💗: whatever nigga what you want actually? Big Papa😩: I'm tryna see you I know you miss me Yana💗: I miss the thought of you 😭 Big Papa😩: you don't be saying that when I be fucking you screaming daddy this and daddy that Yana💗: 🙄 Big Papa😩: that's what I thought now lemme come see you Yana💗: you gon have to wait until Cody leaves Big Papa😩: that's my dawg he already know what's happening between us Yana💗: I mean I already told him our situation..he's very protective over me so be careful just saying Big Papa😩: why? It's not like I'm hurting you or anything we aren't a couple just giving each other what we need.

Ouch well that makes great sense to me.

Yana💗: yeah, ofc even when I'm not in the mood you got someone to help you out with that 😭😭 Big Papa😩: you been talking reckless what's up with that? Yana💗: no reason Big Papa😩: mhm I'm otw Yana💗: k

I set my phone aside, rolling my eyes as I noticed the worry etched on Cody's face. "Are you okay, Yana?" he asked, his concern evident. I nodded and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, it seems like Jey is coming over to see me," I said.

"That's good I could speak to him before approaching you," he said.

I anticipated this situation, but I have no complaints. After all, he's my brother, and it's only natural for him to look out for his little sister.

"You wanna watch this show with me while we wait on him?"

"Yeah, let's go ahead and watch it," Cody said as I unpaused the show.

༊*·˚

JEY Kiyana's behavior has changed noticeably since my visit to her house a few days ago. I couldn't quite grasp the reason behind it; I initially thought she was simply prioritizing her career over the complications with me and Jaida.

I understand that she's likely feeling anxious about her fashion show tonight, so I decided not to press her about her unusual behavior and the reckless things she's been saying to me. As I arrived at her house and noticed Cody's car parked beside hers, I turned off my engine and stepped out, making my way to the front door.

I rapped on the door, anticipating either her or Cody to answer. As I waited, I scrolled through my social media, liking various pictures, particularly those from Jaida's profile. It was during this time that I noticed Kiyana had recently updated her story.

yanasworld posted on their story!

I was really taken aback by that tweet she shared in her story. What on earth was she trying to convey? Is there a deeper reason for her behavior, or is she simply indifferent to the situation?

I couldn't believe my eyes as the door swung open, revealing Cody with a bright smile. It looked like he was about to head out, but then he unexpectedly pulled me aside. What could his intentions be?

"What's up Uce," I said.

Cody stated, "I understand the dynamics between you and my sister, but I need to emphasize something important. Don't allow this situation to jeopardize her career; there will be repercussions. She has an incredibly promising future ahead, and I can't stand by while my best friend puts that at risk."

My face twisted in confusion when he said that. "What do you mean by that? I'm not trying to hurt her; I'm just enjoying myself," I argued.

"It's important to be mindful of her feelings. As her brother, I understand how sensitive she can be, always longing for things she can't have. So, please, do me a favor and tread lightly." I completely get where he's coming from; if I had a sister in Kiyana's position, I would want to protect her just the same.

As he approached his car, we embraced warmly before he climbed inside. I turned and walked into the house, noticing Kiyana was nowhere to be found. After shutting the door behind me, I slipped off my shoes and neatly placed them on the shoe rack. Then, I made my way upstairs to her bedroom.

As I opened the door, I found her nestled in bed, curled up tightly under the blankets, seemingly engrossed in her phone. I slipped into the bed beside her, gently wrapping my arms around her waist, which made her flinch at my unexpected touch.

"Jesus, Jey you can't be sneaking up on folks like that boy," I laughed as she spoke, gently flipping her around so that she could look at me directly.

I found myself captivated by every detail of her face, gently resting my hand on her cheek and stroking it softly with my thumb. Her smile, which I cherished deeply, lit up the moment. Yet, a part of me recognized that this was merely playful banter; after all, I had Jaida waiting for me at home.

I pressed my lips gently against hers, and to my surprise, she leaned in, drawing her body closer to mine. As we began to kiss passionately, I realized this was a new experience for me. I had never been this tender with her before, perhaps influenced by the words Cody shared with me before he departed.

As our mouths intertwined, my tongue danced within hers while her fingers glided through my mullet. I reveled in the sensation of my hands roaming over her body, firmly grasping her curves. It was a passionate struggle, our tongues vying for control in a heated exchange.

I dragged her onto my lap, straddling me, and as she ground against me, I planted nothing but moist kisses on her neck, causing her to moan softly in my ear, which made my dick rise in my perspiration.

As our lips lingered in a passionate embrace, a thought suddenly struck me about something she had shared on her story. I gently pulled away from the kiss, my eyes drawn to her beautiful face.

"What's up with this quote you posted on your story mama? Did I do something?" I asked as she shook her head.

Kiyana reassured him, "It's not your fault; I'm just experiencing these feelings at the moment, that's all." Deep down, she was aware that the quote she had shared was aimed at him, but she felt compelled to conceal the truth.

She nodded with a smile, reassuring him, "I just wanted to ensure everything was fine between us. "Yes, we're good, Jey." Though uncertainty lingered in my mind about her words, I hesitated to press her further.

I felt my dick pop up and strike her in the butt as I began to untie the thread around her sweatpants and take them off of her along with her underwear.

Once more, my hands were stroking her face—she is so gorgeous. I haven't even touched her yet, but I could feel her hot pussy oozing for me. She got up and aligned herself with my dick within her entrance, making us both groan loudly as we felt how warm she was inside.

She was jumping up and down on my dick, hanging onto my chest for support so she wouldn't fall, and her eyes were dark and full of need, just like mine.

"Ouuu, fuck. Daddy...your dick is so prefect for me," Kiyana moaned as I gave her left ass cheek a few slaps.

"Yeah? Keep on bouncing on it you'll get a reward from daddy princess," I responded back to her.

Following our time together, we nestled closely in her bed, relishing the intimacy of the moment we had just shared. She remained silent, gently toying with my hair, creating a serene atmosphere that spoke volumes without words

I found it concerning that she was so quiet; it suggests that something is troubling her, and she may not be ready to discuss it.

"What's on yo' mind mama? you seem quiet," I asked her as she gazed up at me.

I could hear her take a deep breath before she finally spoke, "Jey, I'm really anxious about tonight. What if I mess up out there or something?" It was surprising to hear her express such nerves, especially since she had been performing for years. Why was she feeling this way?

"Mama I think you'll do great out there don't doubt yourself for a second aight? You're perfect," Her smile lit up the room, casting a spell that captivated me completely. I gently pressed a tender kiss on her temple, savoring the moment, before leaning in for another kiss on her lips.

It quickly escalated into another passionate moment as she embraced me, her arms around my neck while I held her at the hip. She was simply flawless. Just then, I felt my phone vibrating, interrupting our intimate connection.

"Hey, someone's calling you I'll be back I gotta get ready for tonight," she said as she got up from her bed heading towards the bathroom.

I answered the phone, recognizing Jaida's voice, and immediately knew it was her reaching out to me.

OTP Babygirl💋: hiii daddy wya Jey🖤: I'm over here at a friends house chilling what's up? Babygirl💋: what friend? Is it that girl Kiyana? You fucking her? Jey🖤: nah baby I wouldn't do that to you, she's nothing to me compare to you Babygirl💋: good I can't wait to see you I miss that big dick of yours Jey🖤: I miss you too baby I'll see you after I leave from here aight? Babygirl💋: okay daddy see you Jey🖤: aight then baby

CALL ENDED

I could hear the shower running, which led me to believe she was enjoying a long soak. As I got up from her bed and slipped into the clothes I had worn earlier, the sound of music wafted from the bathroom. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I grabbed my keys and made my way downstairs, eager to see Jaida before Kiyana's fashion show tonight.

༊*·˚

OMNISCIENT Kiyana was overwhelmed with thoughts, particularly about the conversation she overheard between Jey and Jaida just before she stepped into the shower. The way Jey was playing with her emotions left her feeling unsettled, especially since she was already grappling with her own inner turmoil regarding her feelings for him.

Kiyana dismissed the thought, determined not to let anything divert her attention tonight. As she sat in the makeup chair, she watched the other women preparing for the show, each one radiating excitement and energy. Yet, amidst the bustling atmosphere, she felt a profound sense of loneliness, longing for Nathan to be there with her in this moment.

She was thrilled to learn that Fka Twigs would be opening the show tonight. The thought of her favorite artist taking the stage brought a smile to her face. It was going to be an exciting night filled with famous faces, including her best friend, her brother, and the Uso's.

She felt an overwhelming weight in her mind and heart, grappling with emotions for a man who was ultimately out of reach. Jey's actions stirred a longing within her that she had secretly desired for so long, and now that it was within her grasp, the realization that she couldn't have it was devastating.

"Ladies! This evening is your chance to showcase your talents and open doors to new opportunities, so let your brilliance shine tonight!" Kevin encouraged us, and we all erupted in cheers of excitement.

The initial group of girls, adorned in their outfits, radiated beauty like diamonds just as the show was about to commence. The enchanting sound of Twig's voice filled the air, creating a magical atmosphere. Suddenly, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, prompting her to turn around.

Nathan and Patrice stood behind her, holding a bouquet of roses and cards, which made her smile as she embraced them warmly.

"Oh my goodness I thought I wasn't going to see you guys tonight!" Kiyana said.

Nathan exclaimed, "Why on earth would we skip your spectacular night strutting down the runway, looking absolutely breathtaking? Kevin even allowed me to choose your outfits for the evening!" She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise.

"Really? You're kidding?" Nathan shook his head he was being serious about it Kiyana placed the bouquet of roses and cards on her table before getting up from the chair that's when Kevin approached them.

"Kiyana, sweetheart, you'll be right behind Jazmine over there. Just keep your confidence high and shine out there!" Kiyana nodded as Nathan approached her, bringing the beautiful angelic wings for her to wear, perfectly fitting the theme for the evening.

She gazed into the mirror, adjusting her voluminous afro and ensuring her makeup was flawless. After sharing a final embrace with Nathan and Patricia, she stepped behind Jazmine, who greeted her with a cheerful wave.

Kiyana silently prayed, wishing to maintain her composure on the runway and to block out the negative energy swirling around her. As the line dwindled, she found herself inching closer to the stage, peering over Jazmine's head. There, she spotted her brother, her mother, Liv, and the Uso's seated together, captivated by Fka Twigs' enchanting performance.

She was taken aback to find Jey there, especially after spending time with Jaida just before he arrived with his brother. She had assumed he would remain with Jaida, but she chose not to let it affect her.

Jazmine followed the other girl as she returned, leaving Kiyana feeling anxious and isolated. Her nerves seemed to slip away as she caught a glimpse of Jey, who was watching her. However, she quickly averted her eyes, choosing instead to focus on the runway ahead. As she walked confidently, she lost herself in the rhythm of the music, holding hands with Fka and strutting her stuff like a true star.

She paused to flaunt her outfit, blowing a kiss to the audience before retreating backstage to change clothes, preparing to make her return.

She swiftly changed her clothes with Nathan and Patrice’s assistance, slipping into a stunning outfit he had chosen for her, adorned in elegant white and gold.

"You look absolutely stunning Yana," Patrice said.

"I can't express how grateful I am to see all of you here with me; it completely eased my nerves," she exclaimed, wrapping them in a brief hug before returning to her place behind Jazmine, who praised her outfit.

༊*·˚ As the show concluded, Kiyana slipped into her after-party dress, exhaustion washing over her from the night's events. Just then, she heard someone calling her name. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of her best friend, her brother, their mother, and the Uso's entering the room.

"Oh my god Yana you looked so good tonight you did your thing out there girl!" Liv exclaimed as she hugged Kiyana.

"Thank you I was nervous you guys, yall don't even know," Kiyana said as she smiled at her mother who was giving her a hug along with her brother.

As she completed her task, she noticed Jey approaching with a bouquet of her favorite flowers. How many roses could one person possibly need? With a smile, she accepted the flowers and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace.

"You looked gorgeous tonight, walking out like that," Jey said placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

Gratefulness filled her voice as she expressed her thanks, "I truly appreciate it." Meanwhile, the group opted to grab some drinks while Kiyana engaged in conversation with her new friends, all the while sensing a pair of eyes intently observing her every action.

She suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder, causing her to pause mid-sentence, thinking it was Jey. However, when she turned around, she was taken aback to find a towering man, standing at 6'3", right behind her.

"May I help you?"

"Yes , you can actually," he said getting her hand while placing a soft kiss on it.

The man exuded an undeniable charm, with his strikingly handsome features complemented by his captivating eyes. Their beauty was almost ethereal, resembling sparkling diamonds that seemed to hold a world of wonder within them.

"I couldn't help but to find you looking absolutely stunning tonight down the runway," Kiyana had smiled at him as the girls left her alone with him.

"Thank you, I don't know how many compliments I can take for tonight it's getting me all worked up," she said.

Jey observed the scene unfold, his heart sinking as he watched her smile at another man. The sight of her giggling and flirting with someone else stirred a wave of jealousy within him. He realized he couldn't just stand by; he needed to take action.

He tuned into their discussion, eager to decipher the subtle hints the guy was dropping about Kiyana. Jey watched as he drew Kiyana in by her waist, leaning into whisper something in her ear that Jey could almost hear.

"You know I can treat you better than that Uso over there," Aaron whispered pointing directly at Jey.

Kiyana arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing the man as she challenged his motives. "Oh? Is that so? What exactly do you mean by that?" she inquired, her tone sharp, while he let out a soft chuckle in response.

"Let me take you out to dinner sweetheart," he said.

Kiyana and Jey locked eyes, and he gestured for her to join him, wanting to have a private conversation away from the crowd. She informed the man that she would return shortly and moved toward Jey, who gently took her arm and led her away.

Cody and Jimmy exchanged knowing glances as they observed the scene unfolding before them, fully aware that a pivotal moment was on the verge of occurring between the two.

In a deserted hallway, Kiyana abruptly pulled her arm from Jey's grasp, casting him a bewildered look that suggested he had lost his mind.

"The fuck is yo' problem Kiyana?" Jey questioned her.

"What do you mean What is my problem? I haven't done anything wrong," she said.

"You know what the hell I'm talking about Kiyana you got this fool all up in yo' face while I'm here," Kiyana couldn't understand the source of his sudden attitude; after all, he had merely invited her to dinner.

Suddenly, it dawned on her—Jey was feeling jealous. Jealous that another man was engaging with her, particularly if it wasn’t him or her brother Cody. She stood there, arms crossed, shooting him a piercing glance. "Jey, you can't be serious right now! I believed we agreed to live our lives independently and be with whoever we choose in this arrangement."

"But you know yo' ass been mine since you walk into the club you've been mine Kiyana now this bitch ass boy wanna be all over you and you entertaining the shit," She couldn't believe what she was hearing right now.

"What I do with someone is not your damn business Jey just like how I don't be saying shit when you're with Jaida I mind my fucking business so you should do the same hell he could probably treat me better than you can," He felt a profound pain within, but he masked it well. Approaching her, he gently encircled her throat with his hand, locking his gaze onto hers.

"Don't fucking play with me Kiyana saying shit like that knowing I'll fuck yo' shit up," Her emotions begin to blossom as she observes his possessive and dominant nature, as he asserts his claim over her despite the absence of an official relationship.

She was grappling with her emotions regarding him, struggling against the inner turmoil of her feelings. Yet, she had to face the reality that he was already in a relationship. So, what could possibly explain his confusing behavior?

"Really? Probably have to remind me then, like I said whoever I'm with is none of your business—" Kiyana experienced the intensity of his lips pressing against hers, the kiss passionate and fervent as he lifted her by the thighs, carrying her toward his car, completely oblivious to the party around them.

By the time they arrived at his car, he had opened the door and pushed Kiyana into the back seat before slamming the door shut behind him as he began removing his shredded pants and underwear, revealing his dick.

"Take these fucking panties off and hold yo' legs, I'm finna remind you that you're mine and only fucking mine," Jey said with aggression in his voice that send shivers down her spine.

He slipped her dress over her stomach and slammed himself inside of her, causing her to wail loudly as he began giving her his harsh strokes with his hand wrapped around her throat.

"J-Jey..W-wait...fuck," Kiyana moaned.

"Ain't no fucking wait to late for that, I gotta put you in yo' place and you better not run from me either you hear me?" He grunted.

When she didn't respond to him she earned a slap on her left ass cheek causing her to whine, "Yess I hear you I hear you fuckk," she threw her head back in pleasure while Jey was beating up her gummy walls.

Kiyana realized at that moment that he was determined to hold on to this situation with unwavering resolve.

Sneaky Link

uceyjucey, americannightmarecody, aaron_pierre1, and others liked your post.

yanasworld: After Party 😘 uceyjucey: remember you mines mama 🤫 yanasworld: @ uceyjucey I know I'm yours 🖤 americannightmarecody: @ uceyjucey y'all two good? uceyjucey: @ americannightmarecody yeah we good uce aaron_pierre1: damn you're so gorgeous baby 🙂‍↕️ yanasworld: @ aaron_peirre1 thank you 💗 jonathanfatu: you did great out there Kiyana ❤️ yaonlylivonce: period my best friend ate yall up i loved the fashion show bestie 🥹 yanasworld: @ yaonlylivonce thank you bestie 💗 biancabelairwwe: i saw a clip of you and girrrl you looked gorgeous honey trinity_fatu: looking stunning as ever

Read all Comments.

uceyjucey posted on his close friends!

jonathanfatu replied to your close friends: Uce what I say dawg be careful dawg Kiyana does not like to be in drama biancabelairwwe replied to your close friends: Ooop 👀👀 I'm sensing drama??? trinity_fatu replied to your close friends: Jey? What's goin on with you and Kiyana? yaonlylivonce replied to your close friends: sir??? americannightmarecody replied to your close friends; remember what I told you earlier today about my sister romanreigns replied to your close friends: what's happening rn? u ain't fucking with Jaida anymore?

A/n: that dinner is still on the table will Kiyana go to the dinner with Aaron or will her feelings betray her because of Jey? Finna get messy I'll tell you that.

Hope yall enjoy this chapter Lmk in the comments below

STAY UCEY

#jey uso #black fanfic writer #black oc #black writers #jey x oc black #jey uso fanfiction #wwelove #black reader #jey uso smut #wwe fanfiction #Spotify

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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 days ago

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ok so this was SUPPOSED to be just a scene in my fic but now idk if i should make it a one-shot bc DAMNN

i was just writing & building up this scene in my fic and then my brain just fucking broke. because. WHAT IF

so imagine bursting into Ford's lab (pre portal) bc you need to find Ford’s journal (for the plot). u know there’s something in there, smth about shutting the portal down and u can't let Bill get his hands on it

but the second you see Ford you know it's not him because of his posture & intonation of voice is wrong too. when he finally turns to face you his eyes are yellow

Bill finds it hilarious, he thinks ur nothing, weak, dumb, not even worth worrying about so he just. lets you in

he’s leaning against the workbench, throwing out some "aww, you came all this way for me, sweetheart?" just bullshit, probably trying to get under ur skin but you don't take the bait, don't even look at him

and then you just start smashing his shit and BILL FREEZES. genuine panic for the first time. because you're destroying everything they worked on. ur hands sweep across the workbench, smashing glass, overturning notes, sending stacks of delicate calculations flying

“HEY” you don't stop, grabbing the nearest equipment and throwing it, sending a monitor crashing, the screen shattering into a mess of exposed wires and ruined circuits.

Ford (Bill) panics like “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, OKAY, RELAX, SWEETHEART, LET’S NOT—”

“HEY, THOSE TAKE TIME, Y’KNOW—”

you don't give a fuck bc you need to find that damn journal while Bill is trying to dodge the chaos, scrambling to grab whatever’s left, floundering.....

so when your back is facing him Bill lunges, wanting to attack you BUT THEN BUT THEN BUT THENNNNNNN you whirl around with Ford's journal in hand and Bill stops immediately because there’s a memory gun pressed right between his fucking eyes!!!! (well Ford's eyes but you get me)

for the first time Bill actually feels threatened. but no no no he doesn’t let it show, he won’t let it show. instead his lips curl

i haven't figured out what he's going to say yet, still working on dialogue but maybe something as:

“ohhhh, baby, ya don’t wanna do that.”

“what, you really gonna do it? really gonna erase your precious genius from his own mind? gonna wipe out every little memory he’s ever had? everything you've ever shared?”

“oh, c'mon, u really wanna erase ALL that? all that brainpower? all those little memories? what was it, your first date? your first kiss?”

and all of that while he takes a step forward, coming closer until he's right in front of you. he leans in. presses you back against the workbench

“you really wanna lose all that? cause lemme tell ya, dummy, he won’t remember a damn thing about you.”

ur finger twitches on the trigger and Bill is like “aw, don’t feel bad,” while wrapping Ford's fingers around your wrist. “you humans and your little attachments. it's cute, really. adorable, even. but c’mon, sweetheart. we both know you ain’t gonna do it. you don’t wanna hurt our lovely braniac. deep down, you know he'd never forgive you”

“Ford would rather forget me than be your puppet.” you say

anyways

im still thinking about how i should write this scene. it can be two ways

1. you grip the gun tighter and Bill tilts his head, his grin widens and then that freak leans forward until the barrel of the gun slides past his lips. “y'know, Ford's got a real sensitive gag reflex.”

2. Bill leans in and presses his forehead against the barrel. “go on, sweetheart, pull the trigger. pull that trigger and poof! your little nerd loses everything.”

anyways bill cipher you are a whore that's all i wanted to say

#this was literally just supposed to be a scene in my fic #but NOW i feel like it needs to be a one-shot bc what the hell #anyway #i need to go touch some grass #bill cipher x reader #ford pines x reader

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hyohaehyuk · 2 days ago

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Jacob Anderson

How did you find out about the series and what appealed to you about potentially playing Louis?

I received an email about reading for the part and just had this really heavy feeling in my stomach, which rarely happens. Anne Rice’s writing just gets you in the gut and you feel like you're being looked at. After reading Rolin’s pilot, I almost felt ill; there were so many things about Louis that really resonated with me. I was very excited about it, and I knew it would be a real challenge. I like projects that give me that nervous feeling for no apparent reason.

How does it feel to be part of something that is so beloved and so important to so many people for so many reasons?

I love literature and comic books and movies and, as a self-professed nerd, I understand that feeling of dread and anticipation with adaptations. Something that's lovely about this is it really feels like we're all in love with Anne Rice's books. We really embraced the spirit of those stories and the questions that she asks through her characters. It feels like holding this very precious thing every day. Everybody has a different personal connection to a story, what you responded to when you first read the book. How did I feel about Louis, in what ways did I connect to him in the beginning? And then making sure that I don't lose sight of that.

What is most appealing about becoming a vampire, considering all that Louis is going through at that moment?

Louis' relationship to vampirism in the beginning is more to do with running away from his humanity, running away from being a person. He doesn't want to be on this earth anymore, so when Lestat presents a second life essentially, he sees it as a way for him to settle into a new identity. The irony is that when he becomes a vampire, he starts to reconnect to his humanity. Louis' story is about somebody who in becoming a monster, connects more deeply to their humanity. That's Louis' journey, at least in the beginning.

Why do you think Louis and Lestat are so drawn to each other?

When they meet, Lestat is everything that Louis is not; confident, free of thought and of being, and seems to have kind of cracked the code to existence. Internally, Louis feels like he's getting further and further away from any kind of certainty of who he is or who he's supposed to be, but his insecurities make him present as this very confident, strong-willed human. Lestat’s looking for somebody that stands out and for somebody that can be his match, but in some ways, it's almost like he's misdiagnosed Louis a little bit in the beginning.

Louis is quite progressive for his time; the way he dresses, the way that he thinks about the world around him is steps ahead. Apart from the physical attraction Lestat has for Louis, he sees that Louis doesn't quite belong in his time. I think that would be a really attractive thing for a vampire, because vampires don't really belong anywhere because they're everywhere. They live forever and I think that Lestat sees that Louis was almost born at the wrong moment.

As a musician, what was it like to have so much music written into the story and how did it set the storytelling tone and mood?

Rolin is an encyclopedia of knowledge in terms of music and he's very particular with references, which version and year and arranged by this person that way, etc. He writes it into the script, which allows you to picture what the show is going to look like afterwards. I think of music as a very visual medium, it's evocative and I see in pictures when I listen to music. Before we started this, I put a playlist together of everything that was in the script and then added things that I thought Louis would be listening to at the time. I listened to a lot of Jelly Roll Morton in my trailer before coming onto set, even before coming out to New Orleans. There was also contemporary stuff that just felt like Louis and others for Louis and Lestat. It really helped me to build another profile of this story. I didn't share it with anybody or talk to Rolin about it, but it helped me get into the right headspace.

How did filming Season One in New Orleans add to the magic of the storytelling?

New Orleans is very much a part of the romanticism of Anne Rice's books. It really serves that kind of magical, fantastical storytelling and it does feel like a place where vampires live. This is a really night-timey place and it's the perfect place to be a vampire, obviously. There is just something here, it is almost like a frequency that as soon as you land, you feel it, but you also don't want to disrespect it. I have stayed away from Voodoo because I respect it and it's cool, I don't want to trouble it. I've had really vivid dreams out here, inexplicably, and I think it's one of those places that’s just a bit magical. It's also a place that has suffered a lot, there's challenging weather and a legacy of slavery that's very apparent. Not to generalize, but I think it creates a real resilience in the people there. That feels very at-one with the story we're telling and these creatures that are resilient.

What was your first reaction, when you walked into the sets that Production Designer Mara LePere-Schloop created for the show?

I can't speak to Mara anymore because I'm just too big a fan. Every time we walk into a new set for rehearsals, I see her there and then I just walk away because I can't articulate how beautiful these things are. For actors, she's so considerate of what we might need, what we might be looking at, what we might want to touch. There's something really tangible about the way she designs, as if she has this kind of x-ray vision over every single word in the script and in the books and our dialogue. She's one of the most considerate designers that I've ever had the pleasure of seeing work. I love Mara and I should be saying this to her.

The weekend before we started shooting, I was starting to feel the enormity of what we were about to do. Painting had just begun on the Storyville backlot and I came in for a fitting. Feeling overwhelmed, I just needed to go outside. I walked down the Iberville Street set and I just felt a bit of a swagger. It's such an immersive space; it feels so real and just seeing that leap off the page, I felt like Louis, sort of possessed by him, certainly like 1910-1911 Louis. I could just kind of feel him as I walked down the street. That was really important for me, personally, to feel safe and armored and ready to go, walking down that street. Throughout shooting I would just go for little walks; little dawdles on the backlot.

Sam Reid

What was your reaction when you found out you were going to become Lestat?

I was blown away and so excited to get to portray this extraordinary, deep character. But I was also quite terrified because I'm such a fan of Anne Rice's work that I put a lot of pressure on myself to try and fulfill that. It's a mix of feelings because I'm so excited and incredibly grateful to have this opportunity, but I also feel a lot of pressure to fulfill Lestat's shoes, which are mighty.

What was it like when you finally met Jacob Anderson in person and started the process of creating this relationship between Lestat and Louis?

It began on Zoom through the chemistry reads process, which is strange in itself because there's lots of different time zones and then phone conversations before we met and we were texting quite a lot. When we met, I think it was a bit like meeting your old friend. We got to know each other really well before we met in person, which seemed very fitting for this pandemic era. I think we were friends from the get-go, we're quite similar people.

How is the relationship between Lestat and Louis different in the series than both the book and the movie?

I feel like Anne Rice has always been very clear that Louis and Lestat were in a romantic relationship. Particularly as we progress through the books, she becomes more explicit with that relationship and their feelings for each other. We are bringing those un-coded elements from the other books into this season. We're honoring that they're in love and the toxic push and pull that they hold over each other for centuries.

What costume did you love wearing, that spoke to the essence of Lestat's style?

Lestat really is a man from the 1700s and in a way, he came into his own through theater, during that period of time before he became a vampire. When we first meet him, he's still wearing pieces decades out of date and we see echoes of that again at the end of the season. But in the 1900s, he's trying to learn to fit into society, he's trying to stay slightly more conservative. Carol Cutshall has done an extraordinary job of keeping elements of bondage in his costume. So, there's always a sense of danger and savagery that exists within his costumes, beneath the faux conservative choices that he makes with his clothes that I think are really fun to walk around in. Also, we each have these extraordinary, hand-made, custom shoes which help with stalking about at night.

What was it like to shoot in New Orleans, a city that is a huge part of Anne Rice’s legacy and synonymous with her vampire mythology?

New Orleans was hit by a tornado the day after we shot a scene that included a direct quote from the novel. Lestat is talking about how much he loves New Orleans and he says, "there's not an inch of this city that wasn't built from the fierce wilderness that surrounds it." I was in my apartment looking out at it thinking: this world, this universe and this character that Anne Rice created speaks directly to the heart of this city. I think people really identify with the way these characters love this city, and Lestat loves this city. It is an absolute privilege and joy to be here, to be playing this character and to be in his element, it's extraordinary.

What are you hoping the world will experience when they finally get to see this?

I hope they see that we are honoring what Anne Rice wrote. There's a huge amount of respect for what she created. We are always referring to her words and bringing in all of the elements as honestly and truthfully and as blatantly as she wanted. That world that she created is right at the front of our hearts.

Beyond the look of a vampire, why do you think people are fascinated with how they live, night to night.

Vampire lifestyles vary, some sleep in a hole in the Earth and hunt in forests, others live in towers and don't go out very much. Some live a hedonistic lifestyle and they can get away with virtually everything. They can hypnotize people into getting what they want. It may get old quite quickly because you struggle to form genuine relationships, end up eating your friends or they end up hating you because you've turned them into a vampire and they didn't really want that. It's not for everyone; I'd warn people against it.

Source: AMC Q&A's with the IWTV cast

#jam reiderson #jacob anderson #sam reid #interview with the vampire #iwtv #season 1 press

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mmmurdockss · 1 month ago

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Am I the only one who really didn't take kindly to Foggy and Karen treating Matt like an addict for his Daredevil-ing? I don't think there is ever any mention about the dehumanizing effect that has on Matt. It makes it look like it is justified for Foggy and Karen to call Matt that because the writing made it want to look like he mainly goes out at night just because he's angry and likes taking out that anger on criminals/craving for violence when that's not the case. One of the main reasons he can't give up Daredevil is that his senses allows him to hear the cries for help from people every night. And doing nothing would eat away at the soul of anyone who has even an ounce of empathy in their heart, but most especially Matt who we saw drop everything even when he was in critical condition to save a little boy.

Additionally, Matt's suicide attempt in Season 3 was never addressed by anyone at all, or when he showed suicidal ideations in front of Karen during the scene with Jasper Evans and the show just proceeded like normal and focused more on having them be mad at Matt for being a bad friend and nothing more.

I suppose I'm just scratching my head at the kind of callous attitude by the show's writing of Foggy and Karen towards Matt's clear mental illness. This is not to say mental illness is an excuse for every behavior, but if the writers can have Karen showing empathy towards Frank Castle and his PTSD then they could have the same for Matt's friends for his obvious chronic depression and suicidal ideations.

#daredevil #matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #tw: mental health #tw: suicide #i love the show but the writing loses me when it comes to that #i really like how waid's run addressed matt's chronic depression and i wish to have seen something like it in the show #no hate just my two cents and i still like the show a lot

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sskk-manifesto · 7 months ago

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Ep 5!!!

#Episodes that make me go “The author has never talked with a woman ever” 😓😓😓#I don't like how Lucy's character is handled at all. And I feel like I can't talk about it because I'm just going to sound like a bitter–#ss/kk shipper... But I really don't like it. And if it can help my case I'm a multishipper so I really don't take any–#issues with atsu/lucy I like the ship quite a lot actually.#So you're telling me there's this girl... Who meets this boy who pretty much ruined her life by directly causing her to lose her job...#And the next time she sees him she's going to sacrifice her own freedom for him as well as tell him “when you're done doing your things–#come and save me” (longest ewwww ever)... And when she regains freedom (author didn't bother to explain how because they don't care)–#she goes to work... As a waitress at the café beneath his workplace. So he can keep doing his Cool Superpowers Job while she literally–#must serve him every time he visits the place. It's just ?????????????????????????????????#Look‚ I don't dislike Lucy and I feel general affection towards her. It's just that they make her act like no one ever would #Just for the sake of the plot I guess #And like I knoww it's (probably just a little) more nuanced than that. I know Lucy is living her own fairy tale fantasy.#It's just that what I've said about her story is still true‚ you know?#I'm sorry but as sweet as atsu/lucy can be. I really hate the author for making Lucy a waitress. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.#It's so weird. This anime has women writing standards that feel like dating back to the 20s #Same with Katai and the ideal woman tbh. Like why are women to be seen as this abstract impersonal entities? Why can't they just be people?#Ideal for WHO. It's like super screwed up of a concept. What even is an ideal woman? What does it mean to be a woman anyways?#They just want to say “ideal wife”. But women aren't made to be wives their existence isn't functional to another person.#Sorry. I derail. Next episode is going to be even worse on this front ughhhh #Back to the episode: once again it really shows they were running out of budget with this season‚‚‚ the animation looks very suffered #Too many flashback also... I feel bad for the animators tbh #I don't really like the shift in art style :( Not even Atsushi I found particularly pretty this episode my heart cries #The nail pulling thing made me feel like throwing up afhsjyabfsbfwasfvb I feel like I can bear worse gore but there's a couple of little–#specific things I can't stand and this seems to be one of them pffftttt #I like Higuchi I think she's both very funny and cool. I really wish she was explored more (but then again looking at Teruko... )#The relationship between Kunikida and Katai looks so interesting even though we only get glimpses of it. Kunikida regrets Katai leaving–#the ada but is also happy for him but also worries for him. He comes to his house seemingly to check on him and starts cleaning around.#The way he loves him and cherishes their friendship and shared history is really evident and it makes for a compelling dynamic.#Perhaps I should read their short story... In any case. Going to someone's house and compulsively start doing the dishes half out of will–#to help out half because he can't bear the mess sounds a lot like something I'd do lol

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like-butterflies-and-glitter · 1 year ago

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i crave to be loved so badly but i am so scared of it, maybe even find myself undeserving or not capable of receiving it,

i wrote a self insert character who gets into a relationship with a character who loves so entirely with such devotion and yet find myself unable to write a story where that character does love my s/i enough, the way he has loved other characters in the past. what the hell is that about?

#vidhik.txt #2/3 iantara stpries have this conflict holding him back #the third one that i have not been able to finish doesn't really have conflict like that because it is just pure cuteness #and exactly i am unable to write it because how #am i analysing this too much maybe but i am also coming to this #after looking at my dating history the past year or so #i really liked a girl and asked her out got rejected but atayed very good friends and i love our friendship #but anyone who actually shows interest in me i start isolating and distancing myself from before they can reject me #and some of them made an effort but i almost keep looking for an excuse #because i dont know what happens when they see me naked what if they find my body hideous most days i have trouble with that myself #what if emotionally i am just not good enough to be loved well because i know i am a dysregulated mess and i try to work on it #but when i lose at it it is so so bad #i am aware i am not an easy person to love so i keep myself comfimed to people i almost know just will not try to learn me enough #thus not learning the veru bad parts and not leaving #i am so svared of rejection that i keep not letting people love me despite how much i want it #needed to vent because this has kept me up a bit too long

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starbberryblue · 10 months ago

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collection of my absolute favorite tags from this incredible post:

Candace and doofenshmirtz would be tumblr mutuals i think

#my personal take is that phineas would have a blog dedicated to advertising his latest invention so everyone can come check it out #and ferb would have a blog for the same purpose except he just silently reblogs all of phineas's posts with the occasional thumbs up emoji #candace constantly tries to show the posts to their mom and either #1) she goes “oh those boys and their imagination” because she thinks they're inviting their friends over for make-believe games #or 2) tumblr staff nukes their posts for promoting dangerous activities / self doxxing #“aren't you a little young to be inviting strangers to your house to *checks post* test the zoning law breaking DIY water slide you built?”#perry doesn't have a blog he just lurks on doof's to check up on his evil schemes #but his family runs an in-character pet blog where they put him in silly hats and make him say cute but wildly out of character things #somehow avoiding The Hat #and doof follows that blog because aww cute little harmless platapus #major monogram occasionally posts angsty vents about The Academy while every teen on the site begs him to get therapy instead #carl is a reddit infiltrator and everyone hates him. im sorry carl fans(???) but you actually cant debate me on this im right #OH AND LAWRENCE #HE ABSOLUTELY IS THE FATHER OF TUMBLR AND EVERYONE ADORES HIM #he posts about how much he loves his wife and kids in between rambles about his special interests (fossils dun dun dun)#i just know he's the babygirl of tumblr in his universe and candace probably hates it but secretly thinks its sweet that everyone loves him #he'll just go “ah candace look! ive received another 'note'! i do wish i could figure out how to write one back”#sorry i went off on a lawrence tangent i unironically love that man #SORRY ONE MORE I JUST THOUGHT OF I SWEAR IM DONE AFTER THIS #buford runs a baljeet hate blog and constantly receives anons begging him to just ask him out already #he hates it but is VERY CAREFUL to explain he isn't homophobic and actually belives that homophobia is an evil and unjust philosophy #that goes against the Bullies Code of Ethics or some shit #anyway when theyre in high school he finally makes a post like “yeah ok whatever we're dating now im still gonna bully him tho”#and tumblr loses their collective minds for like a week #this may be the most tags ive ever put on anything i am currently unmedicated and pnf was my entire childhood ok

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uceyliyahh · 16 hours ago

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SNEAKY LINK

Summary: After having a one night stand with each other Kiyana and Jey decided to become sneaky links until she grew attached to him will he be able to feel the same as her?

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Kiyana

word count: 4340

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @tribalhoochie

Ø4

"Why can't you give it up to me like how you did with him?"

"I know you be thinking about him,"

"It's taking a toll on me with all of this Cody,"

OMNISCIENT Days morphed into weeks following her fashion show, and since that heated argument with Jey, she had cut off all communication with him. Despite his relentless calls and messages flooding her phone, she chose silence. In the meantime, Kiyana found solace in her time with Aaron, savoring their moments together and attempting to erase Jey from her mind. After all, he had only ever sought her for his own pleasure, never offering anything deeper.

Kiyana longed for affection and tenderness, believing Aaron was the one to provide it. They enjoyed occasional dates, and he often said all the right things to win her over. However, there was an unsettling feeling in Kiyana's gut. Aaron had a peculiar habit of mentioning Jey during their talks, and whenever Jey was nearby, Aaron would act out in ways that nearly caused Jey to lose control.

At times, when he desired intimacy, Kiyana would decline, leading him to make threatening remarks that left her feeling uneasy. Deep down, she understood that Jey would never treat her this way; he would always communicate openly about his feelings and intentions.

He would never impose himself on her; instead, their connection would naturally unfold in the heat of the moment. However, Aaron was an entirely different character altogether.

Kiyana found herself at a photoshoot for Elle Magazine, but her mind was clouded with the overwhelming drama in her life. The weight of Aaron's manipulative behavior was becoming unbearable, leaving her feeling lost and unsure of how to navigate the situation. This emotional turmoil was beginning to take a serious toll on her mental well-being, and she longed for a way to escape the chaos.

Once the photoshoot concluded, she made her way to her makeup chair, settling into it as she gently ran her fingers through her hair. A wave of emotion washed over her, but she was determined to maintain her composure in the workplace, so she kept her feelings in check.

As she turned around, a familiar voice caught her attention. It was her brother Cody, warmly greeting those around him. Their eyes met, and she offered him a subtle smile before rising to embrace him in a heartfelt hug.

She wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace, a gesture she desperately craved as her mind spiraled with troubling thoughts. He took a seat beside her, worry etched across his features.

"Hey, are you alright, sis? Jey mentioned that you haven't been talking to him," Cody inquired, noticing her shake her head.

"I've been spending time with Aaron, which is why I haven't been in touch with Jey or returning his calls. But honestly, Cody, I don't want to be with Aaron any longer..." she expressed, her emotions starting to surface.

Cody felt a wave of worry wash over him as he noticed the tears welling up in his sister's eyes. It was clear to him that something was seriously amiss. "Yaya, what’s wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. She took a deep breath, preparing to share the troubling situation with him.

Aaron has turned increasingly manipulative since we started our relationship, and... she hesitated for a moment, remembering the unsettling incident from a few nights ago when he attempted to overpower her.

MINI FLASHBACK - KIYANA'S POV As we made our way back to my house after dinner, everything felt almost too perfect for my comfort. I brushed off the feeling as I unlocked the door and stepped inside with Aaron. However, I sensed something was amiss with him after our meal, though I couldn't quite identify what it was. I slipped off my heels, holding them in my hands, and began to ascend the stairs, still pondering the strange vibe in the air.

He trailed behind me up to my bedroom, his gaze fixed on me as I tossed my heels into the closet. As I slipped off my dress in his presence, I could feel his body close to mine when I turned to meet his eyes.

He grasped my chin, leaning in for a kiss, but I quickly recoiled, gazing at him with a look of confusion.

"What are you doing?" I questioned him as he had a grin on his face.

"I'm tryna see what you all about baby," he said this grabbing me by the waist so that I could be closer to him.

It was at that moment I realized he was attempting to initiate a sexual encounter after our dinner. Unlike my feelings towards Jey, I felt uneasy in his presence.

"Maybe next time? I gotta get up early in the morning for work for this photoshoot," I removed his hands off my waist going towards my dresser to get my night gown on.

As I was about to enter the bathroom, I suddenly felt his grip tighten around my throat, pulling me in for a forceful kiss. I was taken aback and didn't reciprocate, struggling to push him away. However, his strength overwhelmed me as he lifted me by my thighs and carried me toward my bed.

He was kissing me all over my body pinning my arms down while moving my panties to the side to get a taste of my goodies which I was not going to let that happen.

I broke free from his hold by delivering a sharp slap to his face, which made him stagger backward, momentarily looking down at me in surprise.

"The fuck is your problem Aaron!" I shouted as I heard a slight chuckle from him.

"Why can't you give it up to me like how you did with him?" That just threw me off he doesn't know what situation I am in with Jey it's not easy.

"What? You think I'm just some whore who just gives up pussy that easily? Then you must be crazy," I shot back rolling my eyes in the process.

"I know you be thinking about him," Aaron said as the room went silent for a moment he wasn't wrong I was thinking about Jey because I miss him; I miss him being there, and being gentle with me putting me in my place.

But then again I couldn't have him, he wasn't mine.

"It doesn't matter that I have Aaron. That doesn't give you the right to impose yourself on me. At least Jey respects my boundaries, unlike you. Jey, on the other hand, understands the importance of a genuine connection. He would always be there for me, providing what I need without any pressure. It's about mutual respect and understanding, something you clearly lack."

He dismissed my comparison with a scoff, saying, "So you're fine with him using you just to satisfy his own needs because his other girlfriend isn't available? He doesn't care about you, Kiyana." His words hit hard, and I couldn't deny the truth in them. Jey has a pattern of coming and going, only returning to me when it suits him, always heading back to the one he truly wants to be with.

I chose to remain silent after that, fully aware that he was correct regarding the situation with Jey. "However, he would never impose himself on me the way you just did, Aaron; at least he would consider my feelings."

I wished Jey were here to shield me from him, but he wasn’t, and I found myself alone facing a man who attempted to impose himself on me without my consent. All I could muster was a calm, "get out," despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside me.

Aaron raised his hands in frustration and stormed out of my bedroom, the sound of the front door slamming behind him making me flinch. As I lay there, tears began to well up in my eyes, and I couldn't shake the feeling of foolishness for allowing this drama to escalate so wildly.

I felt completely lost and unsure of my next steps.

END OF FLASHBACK

Cody gently massaged my back, his voice filled with concern. "What’s going on, sis? What did he do?" he inquired.

Kiyana’s throat felt parched as she fought to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks, striving to regain her composure.

"He attempted to impose himself on me, and when I stood my ground, he became angry, questioning why I wouldn’t surrender to him as I had with Jey." In that moment, her emotions overwhelmed her, and a tear rolled down her cheek, leaving her feeling as though she was losing a part of herself .

She gazed up at her brother, noticing only the pain reflected in his eyes as he witnessed her quiet tears. "Am I really such a fool for enduring this?" I asked. He simply shook his head and wrapped her in a warm embrace, the sound of her muffled sobs echoing against his chest.

"No you aren't don't think of yourself that way, you're just trying seek out that love that you always wanted," he said.

The love she felt from Jey is unlike anything else. It's the way he showers her with affection, whether it's through thoughtful gifts, romantic dates, or those cherished late-night walks. These moments are what she longed for endlessly, yet it seems he doesn't quite perceive their significance in the same way she do.

She couldn’t have him.

And he didn't want me.

"I love him so much Cody...so fucking much but it hurts to know that he doesn't want me...I can't have him and I cannot yearn for him..." Kiyana confessed to him knowing that she have broken the one rule not to catch feelings and I did.

Her feelings for him would fluctuate, but this time, it feels distinctly different from anything she’d experienced before.

As they separated, he gently brushed the tears from her cheeks and said, "You have to be honest with him. Share your true feelings and put an end to this. I can't bear to see your career suffer because of it." He was absolutely right; it was time for her to confront Jey and break this bond we had formed so she could refocus on her path.

she nodded her head in agreement listening to her big brother as he pulled her In for another hug.

"You can push through all of this sis I know you will," Cody said as she just hug him tightly.

"It's taking a toll on me Cody," he hushed her as they continued to hug each other.

༊*·˚

KIYANA

After wrapping up my photoshoots for the day, I returned home to gather my thoughts on how to convey to Jey my desire to end this attachment and move forward with my life. I sent him a message indicating that we needed to have a conversation. I had never felt so anxious about discussing something so important with him.

I haven't had a conversation with him since that night at the after party of the fashion show. During our last exchange, he couldn't hide his jealousy over my conversation with Aaron, and deep down, I realized it was a mistake to engage with him at all.

I aimed to show Jey that he had a crush on me whenever I was around Aaron, but it seems my efforts didn’t really demonstrate anything at all. In the meantime, I found myself anxiously pacing back and forth, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

I felt my phone buzz, and when I saw it was a message from Aaron, I couldn't help but think that I really didn't need this right now. I'm already overwhelmed with so much on my mind.

Aaron🙂‍↕️ sent a message

Aaron🙂‍↕️: baby let me come see you

He expressed a desire to visit me? Given his manipulative behavior and the threats he directed at me, I have no interest in seeing him at all.

IMESSAGE 💬 Yana💗: ion wanna see you Aaron🙂‍↕️: cmon baby you know I didn't mean it Yana💗: if you didn't mean it then why say it Aaron? I'm not finna let you manipulate me Aaron🙂‍↕️: Manipulate? Girl I can tell you things you wanna hear and you'll listen Yana💗: and that's the fucking problem right there I don't need to hear that coming from you Aaron🙂‍↕️: but it's okay for that nigga Jey to fuck you whenever he pleases and toys with your emotions Tuh Yana💗: well I'm ending things with him today Aaron🙂‍↕️: good now I can have you all to myself sweetheart Yana💗: no, I'm ending things with you too Aaron I cannot deal with all of this anymore I need to get back on track with my career Aaron🙂‍↕️: what? You arent leaving me Kiyana Yana💗: I am and I will Aaron it's my choice so please don't make this hard than it has to be 🙎🏽‍♀️ Aaron🙂‍↕️: nah I'm not letting that happen I'm otw Yana💗: do not fucking come over here Aaron🙂‍↕️: why? Yk what that doesn't matter I'm still coming so if he's there that'll be good for me.

I ignored his message after that. What was he trying to say? Did he really intend to confront Jey right in front of me to make a statement? I couldn't let this continue. Just then, I heard a knock at the door and turned to find Jey standing there, phone in hand.

As I turned the doorknob, our eyes locked, and I felt a flutter of anxiety in my chest. He was simply stunning, and the familiar scent of his cologne enveloped the room, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. I opened the door wide, inviting him in, and gently closed it behind him, sealing us in this moment together.

His movements captivated me as he entered the kitchen, retrieving a drink. Leaning against the counter, he gazed down at me, and I felt like a lost puppy, completely entranced by his striking features.

He cleared his throat gaining my attention, "so what did you need to talk about? Or wait how about how yo' ass didn't respond to me nor my calls what's with that mama?" Jey crossed his arms and let out a sigh, revealing that this was clearly his primary concern at the moment.

I remained in my spot, nervously toying with my fingers as anxiety washed over me. "I apologize for not being in touch or responding to your messages recently; I've been dealing with a lot," I admitted, deliberately looking away from him.

"Look at me when you're talking to me mama," I looked up at him, attempting to decipher the emotions reflected on his face.

I felt like I was going to crumble within a minute, "nah it's because you've been with that bum and been fucking ignoring me all this time Kiyana," He was right to be upset, but my actions were merely an attempt to demonstrate something that ultimately didn’t exist.

But he wasn't done not letting me speak, "and then you letting him touch what's mine and taking you out on fucking dates Kiyana did you let him fuck you?" His voice carried a deep, raspy quality, filled with emotion that resonated within me, prompting me to instinctively shake my head in refusal.

"I don't believe that shit Kiyana, so imma ask yo' ass again did you let him fuck you? Did you let him fuck what belongs to me?" I found it perplexing that he claimed I belonged to him, especially since he had previously stated that our one-night stand was meaningless and merely a result of our drunkenness.

"Because what were you doing then being all over him if you didn't let him fuck you when you could've been texting me back and answering my fucking phone calls Kiyana,"

I found myself completely overwhelmed, unable to manage my emotions. "It's because I fell in love with you! I was only with him to try to forget about you and the intense feelings I've been grappling with!" I exclaimed, causing the room to fall silent. "I broke the one rule of this whole situation—never let yourself catch feelings. But I did, Jey. I caught feelings for you," I admitted, a tear rolling down my cheek.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, taking a deep breath as I spoke, "I need to put an end to this and concentrate on my career. It's clear you don't want me, even though I've been longing for you all this time. But I realize now that I can't have you."

He remained silent, just as I had anticipated, while tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them away, yearning for solitude after revealing my feelings to him. "You can go if you want; that way, we can erase this moment and never have to face each other again—" but before I could finish, I felt his lips on mine, drawing me closer to him.

This kiss was unlike any we had shared before; his tongue danced through my mouth as our lips perfectly matched each other’s rhythm, prompting me to weave my fingers through his hair.

His cologne was so captivating that I could almost feel him lifting me by the thighs and carrying me to the couch. Now, I find myself straddling his lap, our lips locked in an unbreakable embrace.

In that moment, I was torn between confusion and excitement. Was he genuinely expressing sympathy for my situation, or did he desire me as much as I had longed for him? The way his hands gripped my waist sent a warm flutter through me, igniting a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher.

We separated slightly, both of us panting as we locked eyes. He pressed his lips against mine again, savoring the moment, before trailing a soft, lingering kiss down to my neck.

He intertwined his fingers with mine, leaving me stunned, as this was so unlike him; he usually just had his way with me and then disappeared.

"I don't want to stop talking to you Kiyana, it kills me not to hear from you," Jey said while rubbing his thumb against my hand.

What did he mean by that?

"Especially when you're with him, it kills me that it's not me who's with you, touching you, kissing you. It fucked me up seeing that," he was confessing how he felt about me being with a different man that wasn't him.

"I was trying to forget you Jey, forget about all of this I was fighting within myself," I said.

I looked deeply into his eyes and said, "But I just couldn't... Every time Aaron manipulated me or imposed himself on me, my thoughts would drift to you. I knew you would never treat me that way. Yet, it dawned on me that you played with my emotions, fully aware that I could never truly have you." I pressed on, feeling the weight of my words.

I sensed his hand gently stroking my cheek before he firmly held my chin, drawing me in for another kiss. This movement made him sit up slightly on the couch, bringing me closer to his body and enveloping me in his warmth.

I found myself bewildered by the sudden surge of emotions. Perhaps it stemmed from my desire to end things with him, while he seemed desperate to hold on. It was possible that he craved this resolution just as intensely as I did, yet I couldn't shake my uncertainty.

As we were about to dive deeper into our passionate moment, a sudden banging on the door startled us, halting us in our tracks. It was then that I recognized Aaron's voice coming from the other side, breaking the spell of our intimacy.

"Kiyana! Open this door! I know his bitch ass is here!"

The fear overwhelmed me, leaving me in a state of panic as I turned to Jey for assistance. I knew he was unpredictable and quick-tempered, but I couldn't help but wonder if he would even come to my aid after the way I had treated him.

The door continued to slam as Jey instructed me to go into the kitchen while he dealt with the situation. I followed his command, making my way to the kitchen and catching a glimpse of him as he opened the front door.

"I figure you would be here, now where is Kiyana?" Aaron asked.

"She's busy at the moment why what'chu need," Jey questioned him while folding his arms.

Aaron was watching him intently, his head poking through the door as he caught sight of me in the kitchen, feigning busyness with my cooking. I could hear him scoff softly. "What is she making? I'm surprised it's for you," Jey remarked, clearly taken aback, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity as he raised an eyebrow.

What did he mean by that? He was surprised that I was cooking for Jey?

"What'chu mean?"

Aaron laughed at him before saying, "She used to cook for me all the time when we were together, and now you show up, and suddenly she wants to break things off with me? How convenient! She wouldn't even let me have a little taste of her without you hovering around—" That’s when Jey landed a punch, the sound of impact echoing as he rubbed his knuckles.

I paused my activities to assess the unfolding situation. There lay Aaron, completely unconscious on the ground, while Jey stood nearby, nursing his knuckles. It appeared that it had been some time since he had engaged in such a confrontation.

I had something on my mind to share with him, but the warning glance he shot my way silenced me instantly. As I stepped back, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was genuinely upset. I really hope he wasn't angry with me for mentioning that I didn't let Aaron sleep with me.

He wouldn't have believed me, given his nature.

"You was going to let him touch you? So that you could forget about me?" He began to say.

"No! I didn't do anything with him Jey I swear he forcing himself onto me Jey, I would never," I said gazing up at him seeing that his back was still turn away from me.

"How badly did you want to forget about me Kiyana tell me and don't fucking lie to me," Why was he the one who was angry and upset when I should be the one feeling this way after I just poured my heart out to him?

I found myself nervously toying with my fingers, acutely aware that my moments with Aaron were fleeting. I had been attempting to push Jey out of my mind, fully understanding that he wasn't interested in anything serious with me—at least not until now. However, I can't shake the feeling that we both need some space to figure things out.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Jey, I really wanted to move on from you. I realized that playing this endless game of cat and mouse would only lead to heartache, making me seem like a fool for falling for someone I could never truly have," I explained. "Yet, every time I was with Aaron, my thoughts were consumed by you and you alone."

I approached him once more, softly encircling my arms around his waist and resting my head against his back. "This is why I felt the need to end things with both you and him, especially him. I need some time to reflect and gather my thoughts because I know who I truly want, but it seems you’re still uncertain."

"So you just want to cut me off after everything mama,"

I hope he can grasp the complexity of my situation. This outcome was never my intention, yet here we are. I pulled my arms from around his waist, massaging my temples in frustration before turning to walk away.

"Don't walk away from me Kiyana," Jey said seeing me walking away from him, "I have every right to walk away from you Jey you don't understand,"

"Then fucking tell me what I need to understand Yana fucking tell me!" It was the first occasion he raised his voice at me, and I could sense his frustration resonating deep inside me.

I needed to take a moment to regain my composure before I let this situation take over my emotions. I didn’t want to feel so overwhelmed; all I truly desired was for things to be straightforward and uncomplicated.

"You don’t truly want me, Jey! You never really wanted me! I’m always just your backup when Jaida isn’t fulfilling your needs! And here I am, foolishly in love with you... I’ve longed for someone like you for so long... but I can’t have you." Tears streamed down my face as I poured out my heart, fully aware that my feelings aren’t reciprocated.

I noticed the tenderness in his eyes as he observed my tears. He approached me slowly, seeking my consent to make contact. I welcomed his touch, and before I knew it, he enveloped me in his embrace, gently stroking my back.

"Who said I didn't want you mama?" I gazed up at him looking deeply in his eyes.

"Your actions tells me that you don't,"

"But I really do," he continued to play with my emotions, turning everything into a precarious situation. I shook my head, unable to accept his words. "We need some space from all of this. Honestly, Jey, I need time for myself. The more I try to hold on, the more it drives me to the edge," I said, gently breaking free from his embrace and offering him a weak smile.

I ran my fingers through his tousled brown mullet, leaving him in a state of shock as I made my way upstairs to my bedroom. Once inside the bathroom, I closed the door firmly behind me, slid down to the floor, and let the tears flow freely.

It was hard to accept that this was my reality, especially when I had longed for someone like him, desiring him, needing him, only for everything to go so terribly wrong.

I realized that this approach is the most effective for now. Once he demonstrates his worth, we can reassess the situation. For the time being, my priority is to concentrate on my career and pursue my happiness, wouldn't you agree?

Right?

Sneaky Link

A/n: Kiyana broke things off with Jey and Aaron so now she's going to be focusing on herself but she'll be okay right?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below

STAY UCEY

#jey uso #black fanfic writer #black oc #black writers #jey x oc black #jey uso fanfiction #wwelove #black reader #jey uso smut #wwe fanfiction

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tenok · 5 months ago

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#I love angst as much as any other person but I feel like people lean too hard into CROWLEY WANT TO KILL HIMSELF WITH HOLY WATER BECAUSE #AZIRAPHALE LEFT #because first: Crowley never showed any suicidal intentions in canon #ever #whole holy water fight was *because* Aziraphale was absolutely baselessly scared that Crowley will hurt himself and Crowley just couldn't #get it and even attempt to calm him down #like sleep or drink or run away? ok #I prefer to think that Crowley will work in averting the second coming but I get it #functional and capable Crowley is not everyone's cup of tea #but also second: Crowley dying from holy water is literally Aziraphale's biggest (semi)irrational fear we saw in canon #like his reaction was overblown in a way we only saw when he dealt with literal apocalypse #Crowley's perfectly aware of this #and this...this not only shows Crowley a) suddenly losing all his optimism b) leaving earth and humans on their own c) leaving Aziraphale on #his own #it's also shows him cruel. not on petty 'dance a little dance for me' level. not on sending nazis to hell level. on the 'let's deliberately #hurt person that deeply loves me (and that I deeply love too) in most cruel and inreparable way'#I can't stress it enough — *intentionally*. burdening him with it *forever*#like. even if you imagine that Crowley *is* stupid enough to not get that Aziraphale was afraid of giving him holy water *because* he's #scared shitless of him dying (and also dying specifically because of him)#he still should get that Aziraphale cares for him in some capacity (I'm not talking about people that makes Crowley cry 'Aziraphale never #loved me at all' because those people saw some other series)#Crowley should understand that him killing himself would absolutely destroy Aziraphale #and I can't wrap my mind around it. like. Crowley won't hurt Aziraphale. not in that way.#again don't get me wrong you can write ooc fics all you want it's just...when some kind of trope gets so popular you start to question what #part of character's character made you accept this as valid and highly accepted interpretation #like I don't like slutty subby Crowley in fics but I get it he looks good in tight jeans and simps hard for Aziraphale. with this tho??#I'm absolutely lost it looks like whole other character for me #sidebote: would absolutely read good IC fic/hc about Crowley being suicidal/attempting suicide. but in my heart Aziraphale is the one that #will consider suicide as an (absolutely rational! he has arguments!) option meanwhile Crowley's like NO ANGEL THAT'S NOT FUCKING NORMAL

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hailsatanacab · 2 years ago

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GUESS WHO’S BACK! this time, with a slightly different take on the prompt 🤣 Bio!Dad Bruce, Siblings Danny and Damian!! I know I said I was going to do twin!Damian, but it just fit better this way I think. I told you this prompt really gripped me, so please enjoy even more words on it!!

---

Look. The only excuse Danny can give is that he's tired, alright? He's so, so tired. Matchsticks propping up his eyelids kind of tired. Five quiet seconds away from face planting into the ground kind of tired. Mistake the coat rack for his mom again kind of tired.

Beat this ghost into the ground if he doesn't put him back in his bedroom so he can finish his homework and finally get some sleep kind of tired.

Seriously, what the hell? He'd only just gotten back to his room after souping the fifth ectopus of the night (apparently there was some sort of migration happening and it just happened to coincide with the worst case of homework overload he's had since freshman year) when he was enveloped in a swirling mess of green and deposited in an ectoplasmic cage in some random ghost's lair. It's just not fair! If it doesn't rain, it pours, and the only constant in life is that Danny doesn’t ever seem to have an umbrella.

So, when Danny looks down and sees that he's still clutching his textbook and homework packet to his chest, and then looks around to see a few more cages containing a few more blurry looking people all milling around and banging on the ectoplasm in confusion, sees the ghost up the front in the middle of a monologue that Danny just knows is going to take forever, he does the only reasonable thing he can think of.

He does his homework.

Yes, he knows he's meant to be a hero, he knows he's meant to be helping these people escape, but come on! He's also an overworked high school student with several deadlines and a dwindling amount of detentions he can get before exclusion, so what choice does he really have?

The ghost doesn't even feel all that powerful, maybe on par with Boxy? He's got a sense for these things now—an annoyance metre, rather than his normal ghost sense—and from the weak pulse of ectoplasm surrounding him, the cheesy Sigmund Freud-looking therapist getup, and the very fact that he's still monologuing, Danny just knows. More annoying to deal with than an actual oh-shit-the-world-is-ending kind of problem. He could take this guy in his sleep.

Or, more accurately, he could take this guy on close to three hours of snatched sleep for the entire week.

So, sue him. He's using this time as independent study. He's doing his homework and there's nothing this smarmy, two-bit Doctor Phil ghost can do to stop him.

Actually, please don't sue him, Danny has this all in hand, he promises. As soon as he hears the other hostages make a sound, he'll abandon his homework and he'll soup the guy. Just let him do most of it first, please!

Decision made, Danny settles down and cracks open his textbook. Math time!

Hey, so turns out, math fucking sucks.

It's not long before Danny thinks this whole thing was a stupid idea and he kinda wishes he would just get expelled. Give him something broken and he’ll fix it. Give him a lab and some scrap metal and he’s pretty sure he can build whatever, just like his parents.

Getting these numbers into the right answer, however? Impossible! How in the name of all that is dead is he meant to do this?

He's sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cage, textbook split open and the pages from his packet scattered messily around him, head in his hands, when he hears a knock on his cage. A shiver rolls through him as a rush of ectoplasm powers through the walls, lighting it up in a pale glowing green.

“What? What do you want?” he grumbles, not even looking up. “Because if it’s not an easy explanation for the quadratic formula, I don’t wanna know.”

“Are you doing your homework?” The ghost’s voice is incredulous and Danny can feel him swoop down to the floor to get a closer look, but whatever, he still doesn’t look up. Instead, he focuses on trying to put the numbers into some semblance of order. “You should be concentrating on my game!”

“Oh, man, ordinarily I’d be so into blowing off my homework for whatever game you’ve got cooking, but if I get one more detention I’m pretty sure Mom will actually succeed in killing me and I don’t fancy going through that again, you feel?”

“Excuse me? I don’t think you understand the kind of position you’re putting your—”

“You have to do brackets before multiplication, right? But you’ve got to make it balance on both sides of the equation, so that means I’ve got to… Wait, no, balancing equations is something different, isn't it? Ancients, this is so fucked, where’s my calculator…”

The cage rocks back with the force of the ghost’s fists and Danny has to scramble to keep all of his scraps of paper in some sort of order.

“Dude! What the hell?”

“Answer my question so we can carry on with the game.” The ghost hisses, his face pressed up against the glass walls of the cage.

Danny rolls his eyes. He’s trying to answer his own questions, thank you very much! Perhaps he should just bust out, end this quickly and get back home. At least there he’d have access to the internet—and more importantly, Tucker’s answers. To compare, not to cheat, of course.

“Fine, what’s your question?”

“You weren’t listening? Do you even care about this at all?”

“All I care about right now is finishing my homework and getting back home at least an hour before my alarm goes off. So unless you can promise me that, I'm going to fight you now and finish off my homework in peace."

“Fight me? At least threatening bodily harm is something you all have in common. Please, you’re all stuck in there until this game ends, whether you like it or not.” The ghost sneers against the cage in what he probably thinks is an intimidating display of teeth, but instead just has Danny realising that he’s not brushed his own in two days. He's been so tired, he's not had time. It's still gross, though. “Answer the questions and you’ll be able to go home lickety-split.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever—as long as I get to answer my own questions, too. X doesn’t solve itself, you know.” As much as he wishes it did.

“Fine. I suppose this isn’t a test for you, anyway.”

Okay, well, at least it seems like Danny’s just a pawn and not an actual player in whatever kind of game this is. He’s not sure how he feels about that—actually, scratch that, yes he does. It’s really fucking nice to not be the one that’s one fuck up away from losing everything.

Mind you, he’s still not off the hook for it, yet. Obviously, he’ll still be keeping an ear out for anything going wrong, but what’s the harm in letting it play out a little longer? At least he’ll get some more work done.

“Fine.” Danny parrots. “What’s your question?”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t know who I am?”

Huh. It’s not often that happens anymore. Weird.

Instead of giving him any answer, the ghost just whips around and cackles as he flies off towards the centre of the room. The glow of his cage dies down as the supply of ectoplasm dwindles and he finally takes a proper look around.

“Did you hear that? Did you hear the shock in his voice, did you see the betrayal in his eyes? You don’t know who he is!”

The ghost is swirling around a podium in the middle of the room, mocking the person in a voice that pierces Danny’s eardrums and stabs directly into his brain. Great, he’s entered the blinding headache stage of tired. He squints and rubs his eyes, but the heavy, blurring tiredness doesn’t leave.

He gives up on trying to guess who the hulking figure in the middle is. All he can assume is that he’s the reason they’re all here, what with the five or six other cages surrounding placed facing him.

Look, it’s unreasonable to ask Danny to do maths and hero work, let him just pick one thing to focus on.

“That’s your first point lost, I’m afraid! Let’s keep going, shall we? The questions are going to get a little harder now, good luck…”

With that, the ghost flies over to the first cage and poses another question. “When is his birthday?”

There’s barely any hesitation from the man on the podium who gives his answer as “March 20th,” with a confident growl. It's pretty impressive, to be fair. Danny can’t remember what date his own birthday is half the time, let alone anyone else’s.

To be fair, Danny has two birthdays, so it's doubly hard.

He doesn't forget.

The first birthday, the one he celebrates, is the day he found the Fentons. He tells them he doesn't know his actual birthday and they believe him, so every April 3rd they celebrate the day he came into their lives.

Or, at least, they do in theory. The Fentons aren't great at remembering birthdays either.

He reserves his true birthday for remembering where he came from. For mourning the life he left behind, the family, his brother. And when the day is over, he pushes it aside and carries on with his completely normal life as best he can.

Which is what he’s doing now. Carrying on with his life as best he can. Doing his homework.

When this stupid game finally finishes, he’ll get transported back to his bedroom with his three sheets of (hopefully) correct answers and he’ll get some sleep.

Then he’ll wake up, go to school, and do it all again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the ghost feeds enough ectoplasm through the first cage so that it lights up just like his did. Immediately, the man inside starts shouting, threatening the ghost with some very creative swearing to let them all go, but Danny just tunes him out because he’s doing what he does best. He's getting on with it.

He swallows and settles back down on the floor, trying to ignore the way his eyes are prickling. Cool. Entering into the “crying way too easily at just about anything” stage of tired. Lovely.

Right. Come on, you can do this. Take a deep breath. It’s just math.

Solve 7x^2 - 25x + 2 = 0 using the quadratic formula. Give your answer to 2 decimal places.

What the fuck.

He keeps an ear out as the ghost goes down the line asking the same question and receiving much the same results. Meanwhile, Danny’s getting nowhere fast.

So, a = 7, right? Which means that b = 25 and c = 2, that’s good, okay, so plug that all into the quadratic formula—wait, shit, b = -25 instead! Does that make a difference?

Whatever, now he has to… fix all the numbers in the formula, so minus minus 25 which is… 0, right? Right. Then it’s all the brackets, so first he’s got to square -25 which is… fuck. Where’s his calculator, did he bring a calculator? How in the hell is he meant to do that in his head?

Danny’s halfway to pulling his hair out when he hears it. The ghost is laughing, congratulating the man on the podium for his three right answers even if it looks like he’s gotten this one wrong, judging by the reaction of the person inside the cage. Danny can’t quite make out what’s happening because all he can see is numbers and, having abandoned squaring -25, a square root that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

So it's understandable that the shout doesn’t quite register to begin with.

“—yal! Danyal!”

But when it does, when the name finally makes it through, he freezes.

It can’t be real.

“Akhi, please!”

It’s not real.

His head whips up to the cage that’s glowing, but it’s too far away, too bright in the darkness, to really make out for certain that… It can’t be. He can’t be here, why would he be here?

Part of Danny really, really wishes he was paying attention to the monologuing.

“Danyal, please, answer me!” The voice is desperate, so, so desperate. Hoarse and wet and thick with tears, a far cry from the confident boy he used to know. The… the only time Danny’s heard his voice like that was when… But it can’t be him. “Let me go, let me see him! Danyal!”

“Answer my question, you little rat!” The ghost growls, face twisting in a snarling grimace that gets him nowhere. Of course it wouldn’t, there's no way that would scare him.

“Danyal! Please, akhi, please!”

It… Oh shit, is it really him?

Danny stands up, his pencil clattering to the floor, and he steps close enough to the glass wall of the cage so that he can reach out and touch it.

He hesitates.

What if it’s a trick? What if he’s in a nightmare dimension and the ghost is actually super powerful and this is all a trap? It’s not a game for the man on the podium, it’s a game made for torturing him—hell, it even had math in it! He hates math!

It can’t be real.

“Danyal, please, let it be you, please be alive, Danyal… Akhi, please.”

He lets his ectoplasm flood the cage, the walls blinding him as he pours in too much, far more than the ghost keeping them captive could ever hope to conjure. He wets his lips, regulates his ectoplasm to a trickle so that the light dims and he can finally see out again, and tries to say something. Anything. His heart is pounding and his mouth is dry.

“Dami?” he whispers, not daring to hope. Then louder, “Damian?”

“Danyal, is it really—”

“What are you doing?” The ghost snaps, taking his hand off of Damian’s cage so that the light dims and he can’t be heard, and shoots over towards him. “How are you doing that?”

Yeah, fuck this. That’s Damian in there, that’s really Damian, and Danny’s not staying in his cage for another second. He takes his hand off the wall and powers up an ectoblast, not even bothering to transform. He’s getting his little brother.

The glass of the cage shatters easily.

He steps out of the cage easily.

He… It’s not quite as easy to walk over to Damian.

It’s even harder to smash it open, so he just stands there, staring. Watching as Damian—and it is, it really is—stands there, too, his mouth moving as he's trying to call out to him but no sound is heard. Danny can read his lips well enough…

Damian sniffs, wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve, and smiles tentatively. It’s a small, fleeting thing. Unsure. Sad. Hopeful.

“Damian?” He still can’t believe it, it has to be some sort of trick, surely. Still… even if it is, he’ll get to hold his brother again. Even if it’s not real. He smiles back at him and readies an ectoblast. “Stand back.”

And then that stupid ghost fires one straight at him instead.

Damian’s gaze flickers behind him, shouting a warning that he can’t hear, and he turns intangible on instinct. The bolt flies through him, but it’s not even strong enough to break Damian’s cage. Yeah, Danny was right. This guy's just annoying, not even worth the time it'll take to fight him.

“You’re ruining it, you’re ruining my game! You’re… you’re a ghost?”

There it is, there's the realisation, finally. He turns to face him, anger boiling in his veins. Fuck this guy.

“You’re an idiot?”

“Excuse me? How dare you?” The ghost blinks, then puffs himself up, ghostly flames licking up his stupid, ill-fitting suit, still not fully comprehending what’s going on. Not knowing the danger he’s in. “In my own lair, how dare you call me that?”

“I’m not a ghost.” Danny interrupts, ice beginning to creep out from his feet. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I’m Phantom.”

“Wh—Phantom?” Immediately, the ghost loses all of his fire and shrinks into himself. “Oh, Ancients, I’m… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to—”

“And yet, you did. Is this a challenge?”

“Challenge? Cha—no, no, of course not, of course not, I wouldn’t be challenging you, not at all! Here, I’ll just, I’ll… I’ll let everyone out and then you can be on your way, I’m so sorry!”

Danny doesn’t even bother to answer, he just turns back to Damian with a roll of his eyes and—he’s still there, he keeps expecting him to have vanished, for this all to have been a dream, but he’s still there—and he readies another ectoblast.

“Stand back, okay?”

Damian nods and moves away, his eyes flicking between Danny and the ghost behind him with undisguised contempt.

The ectoplasmic glass shatters easily and then Damian is out of the cage and in front of him, just an arms length away.

They stand there for a long minute, watching, neither of them able to make the first move. Danny should probably start explaining some things, right? Ancients, there’s so much, but…

It’s been six years.

Six years without his brother.

Six years of only allowing himself to remember on one day, because otherwise he’d break down, otherwise he’d go back and…

Six years.

“Hey, Dami.” He tries to smile, tries to step forward, tries to do something other than stand there stupidly, but he just can’t.

“Are you… Danyal? Is it really you?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs, but it comes out weak and watery.

He’s definitely in the crying stage of tired now.

“Are you—” his eyes flicker over to the ghost again and Danny knows what he’s going to say with just as much certainty as he knows he’s not going to like hearing it. “Are you alive? Truly?”

He shrugs, puffs out some air in a sardonic grin, and spreads his arms wide. “Depends on how you define it, I guess. It’s… kind of a long story.”

It’s not comforting, from the look on Damian’s face, but then he hadn’t really expected it to be. He couldn’t lie to him, there was never any lying to Damian. Even when they were children together, he always saw through him.

Damian brings his arm up, towards him, but falters before they actually touch. Danny can feel his core twist and he so desperately wants to reach out and bridge the gap, but…

“Can I? Danyal, can—”

Ah, screw this, Danny hugs him.

He hugs him and the solid warmth of his presence, the familiar scent, the feeling of weight, of rightness, of home makes everything truly click for him.

It’s real.

It’s Damian.

Danny clings on tighter and a second later, he feels Damian’s arms circle around him, grabbing fistfuls of his hoodie and pulling it taut in his effort to hold on. Damian’s shoulders start to shake and he can’t help but laugh softly, his heart fluttering in his chest. At least he’s not the only one crying.

“Akhi, it’s really you, it’s really…”

“I’m here, Dami, I’m sorry, I won’t leave again.” He pushes his face into Damian’s shoulder, sniffing against the fabric. Yikes, he hopes Damian won’t be mad at the pretty obvious wet patch. “I promise.”

They stay there for a few minutes longer, clinging to each other, trying to breathe through it, when Danny feels a shifting in the ectoplasm around them. He groans, he just cannot catch a break!

This guy really does not know when to stop, does he? It’s always the weaker ones, too, the ones that have absolutely no hope in defeating him that never know when to bow out gracefully. It’s annoying. If this ghost isn’t careful, Danny will have to update his annoying list and finally move Boxy out of first place. At least he knows when to make himself scarce.

With a sigh, he conjures up a shield just as the ghost lets the blast loose. If he was alone—he’s so glad he’s not alone—he wouldn’t have bothered with the shield at all, but it’s not like he’s going to let Dami get hit.

“You’re really starting to piss me off, you know that, right?”

“You ruined my game! I don’t care who you are, no one leaves until my game is finished!” The ghost—Danny doesn’t even feel bad about not knowing his name any more, this guy sucks—snarls and throws another ectoblast which Danny knocks away with one of his own.

With one last squeeze, he lets Damian go, already feeling the loss of it. Fuck this guy.

“Last chance, let everyone go and I’ll let you go. Call it a thank you for reuniting us.”

“I already told you,” he spits, both his hands glowing with ectoplasmic fire, “no one leaves until the game is finished!”

Danny pushes Damian behind him and pulls a thermos out of thin air, still not bothering to transform. He knocks the ghost back with a strong blast of ectoplasm and soups him before he can do anything but groan.

At least it was over quickly.

"I win."

He throws a smile over his shoulder at Damian and pops the thermos back in the pocket dimension it came from. The ghost can stew in there for a couple days, really think about what he did. It’s just rude.

Then he lifts both his arms up and shoots five ectoblasts in quick succession at each of the remaining cages, finally freeing the rest of the ghost’s hostages. Let them get themselves together while Danny can go back to giving Damian a hug.

It’s been so long.

He goes to grab Damian again, but stops when Damian hisses sharply and pulls his hand back.

“You’re hurt?”

Oh, Ancients, he’s hurt! Did Danny do that? Is it bad, was it an ectoblast? What happened?

Before he can spiral too far, Damian lifts up his wrist to reveal a splint already protecting his injury.

“I sprained it a few days ago, it’s nothing terrible. That’s why I’m me and not, you know.” Damian shrugs and gestures, presumably, to the guy on the podium. Danny has no idea what that’s meant to mean.

“Not what?”

“Not patrolling as Robin. I have been benched until I’m sufficiently healed.”

“Yeah, sure, that makes sense—I’m sorry, wait, what—you’re Robin?” He follows Damian’s outstretched arm towards the guy on the podium and… “Holy shit, is that Batman?”

“Mother never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“He’s our father, Danyal.”

“That’s our… That’s our Batdad? Fatherman? Dadbat? Dad-Dad Bat… man? What?” He shakes his head a little, trying to make some of his thoughts actually connect because nothing is actually making any sense right now. “What the fuck?”

His face burns as he hears the barely stifled laughter coming from pretty much every broken cage. He swivels his head around, eyes wide like an owl, and tries to place the names of the audience he’d forgotten about.

Nightwing—that’s the Nightwing—waves with a cheery grin as he makes his way over to them, and there’s Red Robin with his hand clamped over his mouth, nowhere near successful in silencing his laughter. Black Bat, Signal, Red—is that Red Hood, the crime boss, over there? Holy shit!—all wave at him, too, but mercifully they stay where they are.

Batman steps down from the podium.

“Sorry, I think I missed just about everything earlier. What the hell is going on here? What kind of game was this? ‘How Embarrassed Can We Make Danny?’ Because that’s what it feels like.”

“Nah, but if it's any consolation, you’d certainly be winning that game!” Nightwing laughs as he stops a few feet away from them.

“It was my fault,” Batman says, his voice low and gravelly. He gestures towards the thermos. “He wanted to test my ability as a father. My knowledge of my children.”

“Oh… How did you do?”

“I mean, not great,” Red Hood laughs from behind him. “He didn’t even know who you were.”

“Well, that’s fair, can’t really blame him for that. I’m meant to be dead.” Danny says cheerfully, nodding with a smile that he hopes is reassuring. “I mean, I am dead, but that’s unrelated. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Red Robin asks.

“Don’t worry about it!” Danny waves him away and slings an arm around Damian, just like he used to do when they were young. He feels like he’s buzzing, his core vibrating happily out of his skin, and he’s pretty sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face. “It’s all good!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Red Hood says as he picks his way towards them, cutting off whatever Batman was going to say, thank goodness. There’s no way he’s awake enough for a proper, actual conversation about his death(s) and everything that came after them, not at all. “We have bigger things to worry about, after all.”

All of them groan. Guess he’s not the only tired person here.

“What’s wrong now?” Red Robin asks, already pulling up a dope wrist computer that looks slick as hell but obviously isn’t going to work in the Ghost Zone.

Red Hood brandishes a load of papers and turns his head towards Danny. “Danyal here thinks adding 4 and 7 makes 10, which isn’t a great start, but you should actually be multiplying them there, and then multiplying all that by 2, not just… leaving the 2 out? I don’t know what you’ve done with half of this, but it definitely doesn’t make 10 though. I can also tell you that 25 squared is not whatever this squiggle is meant to be. Pretty cool picture of a horse, though, great job on that!”

Danny slumps and hides his face in his hands with a half-hearted sob. He’s so screwed. “It’s meant to be a cat.”

“Oh.” Red Hood turns the paper on its side, tilts his head, then turns the paper upside. “That’s a really crappy cat. Sorry.”

“Do you know how to get us out of here?” Batman asks gently, drawing Danny out of his shame spiral.

“Yeah, that’s not a problem, I can portal us out. At least I’ve got that down.” He rolls his eyes and rubs at the back of his neck with weak laughter. He’s really not making a good impression right now, is he?

“Let’s go, then. If you’d like, I can help you with your homework when we get back somewhere safe.” It’s so weird, Batman sounds so uncertain, not at all like the fearsome crusader he’s seen on the news. And then he smiles, soft and warm, and Danny can’t help but return it. “Damian can help you with the drawing.”

“Yeah… I think I’d like that. Thanks.”

"Let's play a game of 'How well do you know your kids?'" The being shouted, eyebrow still twitching from Robins latest remark.

"I know all my children perfectly." Batman growled at the entity. He held his ground as the spirits (demons?) smile sharpened, "Than you won't mind!"

A puff of purple glowy smoke engulfs then entire area and the next thing anyone knows is that all of Bruces children, even the ones who weren't with them previously, are locked inside magical cages while Batman is trapped in a invisible mime box with a podium and a microphone in what is quite possibly the most garish game show set up ever.

Why was everything neon green and purple? Why was the guy neon green and purple? Who were these other kids-gdi Bruce! You have more kids?

Danny could just transform and beat up the ghost. Its a pretty weak one after all. But this one doesn't seem to recognize him as a halfa and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do his homework without being attacked.

Jason stared at the kid next to him. What kinda life did this kid have to calmly get out his math homework and start solving problems while being held hostage by an unknown entity?! And with the bats no less?!

All the while Batman is getting peppered with questions about his kids and is realizing he doesn't recognize a few of the names.

#dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #hello hello hello back again two days later with the exact same prompt and another 4500 words!#this brain rot is still consuming me i will never be free of it #but that's okay because i'm making things and it's fun!!!#i'm currently much like danny and very very sleep-deprived - i am making myself laugh so much with danny's poorly drawn cat #i'm sorry danny but cats do not have necks like that you poor poor boy #also i had to learn the quadratic equation for this again - who said you wouldn't use this stuff after school?? me i did it fucking sucks #once again i am a FAKE FAN because i have ZERO IDEA on characters in the dc universe LET ALONE who counts as bruce's children #so you've got this deal with it #again i did not give this poor ghost a name nor a description lmao sorry family therapist ghost #also please imagine: all of the batfam that are actually engaged in the game seeing damian's reaction as soon as danny's introduced #there's a minute where damian is just frozen - trying to comprehend what he's seeing because his brother is meant to be dead #because i love the idea of little baby damian being so clingy just absolutely doting on his older brother #that losing him - that danyal's supposed death - just absolutely breaks him and he can't let himself be close to anyone else especially his #new 'brothers' - they're never going to replace danyal no one can replace danyal! that's what he tells himself while thinking deep down #he can't take another loss like that. getting close to another brother means the possibility of losing another brother #and he can't go through that again #anyway he's fucking losing it in his cage and everyone else is watching damian show way more emotion than he's ever shown before #and they're all so scared and so worried for damian and hearing him shout and plead for danyal when it comes to his turn just breaks their #hearts poor poor little bby bat TT^TT #anyway i hope you all enjoy i'm sorry for going ham on this prompt but then again no i'm not this was fun!!!!#cab writes

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joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

Text

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don��t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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norikuna · 2 months ago

Text

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji x you #jjk toji #works #daphworks

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lovieku · 3 months ago

Text

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

୨ৎ from the grande series

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: based on this ask, small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

────୨ৎ────

Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

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