#i'll see about that when i get up or whatever depending when hes really on since he didnt say a time
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STU MACHER x READER x BILLY LOOMIS HCs
CONTENT WARNING: kinks mentioned
In this AU, the two survived, and y'all are all in college
Billy is the main planner in the relationship
Billy gets jealous easily (not between the three of you)
Stu LOVES teasing you both
They both think you look pretty / handsome in whatever you wear
You all have horror movie marathons and go to the theaters to watch whatever new horror movie is coming out (you're professional horror movie critics atp)
Their kinks include cat-mouse chases (where they dress up as ghostface and try to catch you), knifeplay, sadism, and bloodplay
^ Stu is a switch and Billy is a top
Billy and Stu were dating before they met reader, and the two decided that they'd try an open relationship
Billy is bisexual with a preference for women and Stu is omnisexual (sexually attracted to all genders) homoromantic (romantically attracted to men), I'd say
Stu has a higher sex drive than Billy
Stu is chaotically unhinged, and Billy is very calm and charming, I'll let the reader decide who's energy they're matching or if they're bringing a whole new energy to the table
Billy does most of the financial stuff (taxes, bills, etc.), Stu does the cleaning and laundry, and reader does the other chores (cooking, helping Stu with the cleaning). (divide and conquer lol)
Woodsboro is in California, and since LGBT was accepted in the late 90s/early 2000s in the state at that time (I think; I could be wrong), Stu's parents would accept y'all. Billy's father wouldn't accept your relationship, but his mother would be tolerant
Your relationship is triangular, you all love each other equally
Stu is supportive of your hobbies and would love to join in on whatever you do (he likes learning)! Billy would be the equivalent of a little kid standing in the doorway watching a soap opera on tv and constantly saying that they don't like the show when their parents ask them to sit down to watch with them.
^ If you're a baker, Stu will ask to lick the spoon. Oh and he will start food fights.
Stu has most of the money, as his parents are rich af.
^ He will treat you both with expensive gifts and shopping sprees, only occasionally though. He may be unhinged and unpredictable BUT he is responsible.
Stu is the small spoon and Billy is the big spoon, meaning reader would end up in the middle (or Stu, depending on his mood lol)
Stu is more cuddly and affectionate than Billy is
You three live in a big lakehouse or in a big house in a rich neighborhood (you choose!) provided by Stu's parents
Stu would love any pets you have! Billy acts like he could care less about your pets, but he is affectionate towards them ("dad and the dog" meme coded).
You three sleep in a big Californian king bed, although you do have two guest rooms for when you're mad at each other OR want some alone time. (or whenever your AC breaks in the summer, from what I've heard, California heat is terrible) (you do rock paper scissors to see who gets the big bed to themselves)
The safest place to be during a break in is with your two boyfriends (god help anyone who breaks into your house looking for money)
I feel like y'all would stay unmarried (polygamy is illegal in the US) and wouldn't let anyone else into the relationship (I think its called polyfidelity?)
You have a bucket full of little pieces of paper with date ideas (written by everyone ofc) for when you three can't decide what to do for a date
Billy is terrible at communicating his feelings (in general, he does communicate, he's just really blunt and not specific on what's bothering him), while Stu is really emotional and theatric.
The house is decorated with a bunch of things Stu impulsively bought (look at that man and tell me he wouldn't impulsively buy a dog statue)
Billy and Stu love anything you get them
Billy is really prideful and will defend you and Stu if you get insulted
Stu makes morbid compliments, sometimes
In an emergency, Billy is the one contacted, as Billy is the only one who can drive (if you can drive, than you are also an emergency contact)
They're not as active as ghostface killers anymore (minus Billy, he is good at hiding bodies)
Y'all laugh at all the ghostface copycats that have popped up over the years
A/N: I did a lot of research on polyam relationships to make this, so I hope I wrote it right!
Credit for divider: @sister-lucifer
#stu macher x reader#scream college au#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis x stu macher#billy x stu#stu x billy#stuilly#headcanon#fanfic#x reader#fanfiction#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#slasher headcanons#stu macher#billy loomis#scream 1996#scream franchise#ghostface x reader#ghostface#slashers#billy x reader x stu#stu x billy x reader#stu x reader#billy x reader#stuart macher#stu x reader x billy#billy x stu x reader#polyam#polyamory
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nero proposal headcanons‼️✨
hi rly late bc i was bedrotting again BUT here's the 50 follower special!! thanks again for all the support <3 this is only half of the post!! there's another half that i'll either drop at 75 or 100, depends on how fast i gain those followers LOL. this is gonna be kind of a long one so buckle up!
g/n!reader (whether you're a devil hunter as well is ambiguous and fully up to you!!)
he never thought too much about marriage until you brought the conversation up because you'd been together for a couple years and wanted to know how he felt about it
he realised pretty fast that he wanted to marry you someday LOL
he knows that marriage isn't required to show how much you love someone, but the idea of eventually being able to call you his spouse/husband/wife made him really happy
when he eventually bought a ring, he kept it hidden for months and i do mean MONTHS. probably like half a year, just waiting for the right moment
i don't see him as the kind of person to do a big gesture, he'd give you the ring and then do the little speech thing later when you're alone :)
or you'll both be at home doing something mundane and he just proposes out of nowhere because he's so fucking in love
you'll literally be making coffee or tea in the morning (or just something to eat if you drink neither) and suddenly he's down on one knee holding a ring
you could be watching tv together and suddenly there's a ring on your finger
christmas/holiday proposal‼️✨🎄
you're at a little holiday party with the other members of devil may cry—dante (+vergil if you want), lady, trish and nico +kyrie and patty if you like :)
he hid the ring at the bottom of the box or bag with whatever gift he got you. it was still in the box and you knew what it was, but figured it could also be a necklace or something
you open the little box and just throw your arms around his neck. whether you're loud or quiet about it is up to you, but you're just repeating "yes" over and over again
and he just has his arms around your waist and laughs a little, mostly because he was fuuucking nervous 😭 so he's relieved
later when you're alone again, he gets on one knee and starts telling you how much he loves and appreciates you. he's all red in the face, but he's smiling
he asks you straight-up if you'll marry him, and when you say yes, he puts the ring on your finger and kisses you <3
bonus proposal idea‼️✨
he comes home from a devil hunting job and he's a little banged up. you know he heals fast, but you like patching him up anyway—you feel less worried that way, so most of the time he just lets you, even if he's exhausted and just wants to shower and go to bed 😭
one night, when you're done patching him up and are putting the first-aid kit away, he just pulls the ring out and holds it in his hand where you can see until you notice
again, thank you all so much for 50!! the other half of this post will come with its own bonus proposal idea as well :) i'll get back to requests tomorrow!!!
#fun fact this has been in my drafts since june 14th which is the day after i started this side account lol#so it's been here the whole time and i've just been waiting... 🤭#basically-neroland#dmc nero x reader#nero sparda x reader#nero x reader#nero sparda headcanons#nero sparda#dmc nero#nero devil may cry#dmc5 nero#devil may cry nero#dmc#devil may cry#dmc x reader#devil may cry x reader
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All Is Forgiven
Thinking of an argument with Toji that leaves you mute by choice towards him. He still talks to you and asks you questions, and while you don't turn away from him, you don't respond to him either. He ends up having to figure out whatever he needs on his own because after a minute or so you huff and walk away from the conversation.
"Mama," Toji calls from the bedroom, rummaging through his clothing drawers. "Have you seen my gym shorts?"
If he was able to get a word out of you, he would know that you washed them for him. Though you were still sizzling with anger towards him, you pulled them out of the dryer and walked them over to the room. He could hear your little footsteps as you approached the room, and when he turned to look at you, he noticed you were holding his shorts in your hand.
Your eyes were vacant towards him. You didn't want them to be because it sucks when you can't look at him with the endless amount of love you have in store for him. It's still there, but it's being masked by a poker face.
You toss the shorts onto the bed and leave. Toji sighs, irked by the fact that it's actually starting to sting now. Your disregard for him because you're ruled by your emotions and he lets things go too easily because he can't hold a grudge towards you, even if he feels you're in the wrong.
Toji never knew how much he depended on your voice until you wouldn't let him hear it. He depends on you to tell him where things are because without you they would be scattered all over the place. He doesn't know your method of organization, but somehow when he needs something and looks to you in order to find it, you pull it out from right under his nose. He depends on you to tell him he's doing a good job, and to tell him you love him, and just reassure him in general. It makes him feel good to know that someone thinks he's good enough, but recently the one person who feeds him affection like it's as important as food and water, has left him to starve. You haven't said a word to him in almost two days, and he feels like he's starting to go crazy. The sound of his own voice is driving him insane. It's gotten so bad that he had to make a mental note of how he's going to get you back that same night.
Toji leaves for the gym and texts you during his time there. He includes some images because it's now an unspoken rule that he always has to send you gym pics.
[ Attachment: 3 Images]
... 😳🤐
Yeah, I know you like those. I'll be home soon.
You take the time to doll yourself up while he's still out. It's for him, but you won't tell him that until you come back from your "night out". Really, you're just gonna go get dinner for both of you from his favorite little restaurant. You just want to see how far he's willing to let this go, because you're caving. You're ready to apologize even when you know he's not upset at all. You're ready to spoil him in order to make up for those severe feelings you held towards him. You're ready to hear about how stubborn and unbelievable you are for this little act you pulled.
You spray on some perfume and walk out of the bathroom, just in time to catch Toji walking through the door.
"Woof, where're you going, ma?" He asks, setting down his gym bag before absorbing everything you were gracing him with. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the very bare skin of the legs that come out from under your skirt. He can smell your perfume from where he stands, its elegant scent masking even the smell of his own potent sweat.
You didn't answer his question, and left him to wonder why you're all dressed up at seven o'clock at night. Was it a girl's night or were you openly showing him that you have options? Did he miss a message or a call from you?
You grabbed your wallet and scooted past him. You walked halfway down the corridor of your apartment building before realizing that maybe this was a bit much. You would make him worry over you going on a five minute walk to grab some food? All so you can show him you're mad? You cracked.
🥟🥡🍜.
Toji was staring at his screen, waiting for anything from you. The screen flashes like some sort of miracle and your message is seen by him. He chuckles, feeling a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of your little emoticons.
You came back home as fast as possible, bags of food in hand as you patiently waited for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. You took your time walking through the corridor, this time, not knowing how you would react once you saw Toji or if you would immediately say something to him. You're ready to talk to him, you want to talk to him. You miss him, you love him, and you hate the passiveness you threw yourself into around him as an act of retaliation.
There you were, standing in front of the door, nervous beyond belief for what was behind it. You collected yourself and twisted the doorknob, ready to face anything that came to you.
Toji stood from the couch and walked over to you to take the bags from your hands. The smell of his body wash wafted into your nose. There was an imaginary white flag hanging out of your pocket, and it was about to fall out to signal your surrender to Toji.
He pecks your cheek and watches in real time as get all flustered. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen—you standing there so rigidly afterwards. He gives you a soft smile and resists the urge to coo at you for being so cute. Instead, he heads to the table to put the bags of food down.
You shut the door, and within a split second, Toji was in front of you again. "Ma," he says, sounding a little more desperate than he thought he would. "Say something." You stand there like a statue—unmoving, but unlike a statue, you are easily moveable. Especially, by Toji. "Anything, mama, please." He crouches down at your feet, his warm hands resting on the backs of your knees and his cheek resting on one of your thighs. This position made it look like you were being worshipped by him, and anyone who ever saw him do this would know that it was true, because he worshipped everything about you. From the top of your head, to the ground your feet stood on.
"Don't you miss having my hands on you?" They glide up and down the backs of your thighs. He looks up at your stunned expression. You won't look down at him, so he gets to see the way you swallow the words dying to leave your mouth, and the slight widening of your eyes as he lets his hands roam your lower body. "I know I do. I've been in hell these past couple days." He presses a soft kiss to your knee, then one more on your thigh. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you're selfish, baby. Maybe i'm just a greedy asshole," he says, rekindling the subject of what led to your silence towards him. His hand maneuvers around your leg so that his palm is on your thigh, making its way up towards the inner part of it. "But, I know something," his lips trail further up your thigh, softly kissing your skin. "I'm greedy about you. That can't and won't be changed, even when we argue like idiots."
You put your hand on his head as he starts kissing up your inner thighs, making his way even further up beneath your skirt.
"Come on, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his lips meeting the front of your underwear. "Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you hate that my filthy paws are on you, right now."
Your legs tremble at the lightness of his touch, and you internally cringe at how sensitive you've always been for him.
"Toji..." you gasp. You feel his warm tongue flatten between your legs, a slow upwards drag of the muscle makes your thighs quiver before him. You whimper at the damp warmth his saliva leaves on your panties. "Fuck..." you moan, breathily. "Don't stop. Stay there, please."
The first word you reintroduced yourself with being a moaned out rendition of his name was heaven reaching down to pat him on the back for knowing exactly what to do to get you to talk again.
"Open wider for me, baby. Let me see," Toji says, your skirt still veiled over his head. You take a step back so that your back is against the door and widen your stance a little more. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you shudder when his tongue returns to slide through your clothed folds. He doesn't even need to produce that much saliva to drench the fabric of your underwear because you've done that for him already with your leaking arousal.
You shut your eyes and rest your head against the door as Toji continues his act of filth between your thighs. You can hear him panting below you, your taste pleasantly coating his tongue every time he sucks on the garment that clings to you.
You cry out his name with sharp breaths following, your fingers tangling into his locks, gripping and tugging as his lips catch onto your cunt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you grit out, whimpering at the contrast between his mouth and his hands. His hands offer a gentle massage to your thighs, softly kneading the plush between his fingers. His mouth moves purposefully because he knows exactly what it takes to make you fall apart with it. He coats his tongue with your essence every time he laps at the wet patch on your underwear, sticky webs of arousal connecting him to you.
"T-Toji!" You squeal, your cunt throbbing with every brush of his tongue. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck, i'm gonna cum..." you whine.
Toji pushes your underwear to the side, and glides his tongue through your generously slicked folds once and you're instantly arching your back off the door, squirming in his hold and moaning carelessly as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. He desperately chases the sound of your pleasure-ridden voice, wanting to hear the way it raises in pitch when he strokes you just right. He doesn't want it to stop, it's been too long. Two days way too long. You tug at his hair with one hand, dragging the nails of your other hand down the door. You breathe heavily as Toji manipulates your pleasure until your thighs are trembling.
Toji pulls away and lifts your skirt off his head. He lowers your leg back down and stands up from his crouched position. He faces you with glossy lips that shine with all the juices he collected from you, some of it drooling down his chin to give him an even more messy appearance. He presses his lips to yours, making slow movements to allow you to realize what is happening while your eyes are closed. You can taste yourself on his lips as you catch the rhythm.
There's a loud smack in the last kiss before he releases you, a feral look in his green eyes as he dotes on your blissed out appearance. You look too pure for someone who's just experienced something so sinful. "Hey, look at me," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Look at me," he repeats, staring at you as you try to catch your breath with closed eyes.
You hum, rolling your eyes open to lazily stare back at him. Your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at him, but you liked how vigilant he was being. It made you crack a grin, a small gesture that had Toji's heart thudding a little quicker, now.
"I wanna fuck you so bad, ma." His eyes trail yours as they look away from his gaze. "If this is your reaction to my mouth, I don't even know what to expect for when I'm inside you."
You look down to see what's been poking your thigh for the past minute or so, and it's the monster in his pants, outlined for your eyes to quickly spot and everything.
"Come on," you say, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to lead him to the bedroom.
Toji shuts the door and locks it to give the situation a deeper level of intimacy. There's no one there but the two of you and yet you feel even more secluded by the gesture.
He wasn't aggressive in the way he bared you for his eyes. He pulled you close to him by the waist, your body against his as he peeled your layers of clothes off.
"Stay," he says, when you take a step back. He takes that step towards you again, placing his hands on your hips, and snaking them around to your back to locate the zipper for your skirt. He exhales through his nose, lidded eyes watching the longing expression on your face closely as he pulls down the zipper and allows the article to fall on the floor. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he fully slides his hands beneath it, and raises it up your torso higher and higher. You put your arms up and allow him to slip it off your head.
He makes haste of getting his own clothes off, a sly smirk decorating his face when he sees you admiring him from where you sit on the end of the bed as you take off your bra and underwear. You're forced further up the bed by Toji as he inches closer and closer to you. You reach a dead end and welcome the suffocating warmth of his body as he cages you onto the bed.
"Don't do that to me again, mama," he murmurs, before leaning down to peck your lips. "Don't let me talk to myself for that long when you have such a pretty voice to respond with."
You laugh, pulling a small grin from him. "I didn't think you'd care, to be honest. I thought you'd tell me i'm being childish or ridiculous."
"Nah, princess. I thought I was gonna die."
You giggle, pulling him close again. "You're exaggerating."
"You wouldn't let me touch you. Not even when we went to bed, so it was like we were friends instead of lovers sleeping together. Especially with how far on your side you slept."
"Oh, baby," you coo, pressing multiple quick apologetic kisses to his lips. He chuckles at the affection, and his eyes close instinctively as your kisses become more widespread on his face. He missed this more than anything. "What can I do for your forgiveness, my love?"
"Just let me fuck you, ma. That's all. Give me my privilege to all of this, again." His hand slowly trails from your chest to your stomach, a touch you longed for dearly during those two days that you verbally ignored him.
"It's yours," you whisper to him. You peer up at him with your constellation eyes, silently begging him to realize how much you need him. "I'm yours, so show me the use you have for the privilege over my body, baby."
He leans down to kiss you, softly. He's desperate for you, but his lips don't falter their delicate synchrony because of it. He guides the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing up and down the slickness a couple times before slowly sinking into you. Your ability to tangle with Toji's lips slowly deteriorates, and your focus strays to the stretching happening lower down your body, so Toji picks up the slack and feeds you his kisses.
"Come on," he groans out. Not even he is immune to the rebirth of sex with you. You're warm and inviting, and you embrace the pain and comfort he offers every time he craves you or you crave him. This time is no exception. "Kiss me back, sweetheart. Give them all to me," he mutters, before attempting to connect his lips to yours again. You dig your heels into the mattress and your toes curl as you feel his girth continue to submerge inside you.
Toji cups your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together into a makeshift pout for him to kiss. He can hear your hummed little whimpers in response to him sheathing himself further into you. He was being gentle, because hurting you is a crime in his world.
"Fuck, I missed this, mama," he says, goosebumps rising on his torso as he drags himself out of you halfway and pushes himself back in again. "So warm..." he says over the sound of your pleasured moan. He sighs, a grunt following as he starts a careful rocking rhythm into you. "I could stay inside you forever."
"I could keep you here forever," you rephrase, gazing up at him with those eyes he unequivocally loves. They've reverted back to the default loving expression you hold for him, the vacancy of your previous gaze now filled with love, excitement, lust, and overall enchantment. It's a beautiful thing to see your hurricanes subside.
He leans down to kiss you again, distributing the kisses on your face and leading them towards your neck. You could feel his abs dragging up and down your stomach with every roll of his hips against yours.
"Mmm... Toji," you moan, bringing your hands to his back. One of them moves up to the nape of his neck, threading through the dampened locks of his hair, the other traces his spine to distract you from how badly you want to dig your nails into him.
"I know," he coos, kissing the spot beneath your ear. "I know, doll. It's always this good with you."
You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding the more sensitive area within you. "Right there, right there... Oh..." you moan out, inevitably digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Toji directs his kisses back up your neck and towards your face again so he can see the honest expression on it. You're lost in pleasure, vibrating as another orgasm rushes through you.
"Fuck, mama.. let me-" he groans, outwardly losing it at the overflow of your juices. "Let me see those pretty eyes," he pants, gripping your waist a little more harshly as he feels his cock on the brink of expelling into you. "Need you to watch me," he says, taking in the way your lips part to release your sounds of utter satisfaction. Your eyes flutter open to center on his greedy eyes. You mirror his lustful, lidded gaze, the look enough to make him spill inside you, making your cunt even sloppier. "You're gorgeous, ma," he says, mindlessly, as he fucks into you with a little more fervor. "Fucking stunning," he mutters through pants, to which you respond with a sly smirk. The gesture lured a groan out of him and made his cock twitch as he finished releasing into you.
You giggle when he stills his hips. Your combined attempts to regulate your breathing fills the silence that follows. "What're you laughing at?" He asks, massaging your hip with his thumb.
"You tell me that all the time like you're obsessed with me or something."
"And if I am?" he says with a voice so deep you have to blink to see that it's still your gentle giant of a man. "Is it too much for you? Can you handle it? Am I suffocating you, baby?" he purrs, cupping your cheeks while leaning in close to emphasize his points. All it does is allow you to closely admire how handsome he is and really think about what's happening in this moment. This green-eyed, raven-haired man, with the prettiest pointed nose and the most attractive scarred lips, is bedding you, and doing it so well.
"Never. Come closer and bite," you murmur.
He takes your lips in his again, a little more aggressive than before. You asked him to bite, and that's exactly what he's doing. The make out has him rocking both of you a little faster, working you towards yet another orgasm. You nip at his bottom lip and run your tongue over it when hisses. You hum out a little giggle, and moan into his mouth when he jolts into you.
"God, i'll bust again if you keep doing that. I'm serious, mama" he groans, swiping his tongue over his stinging bottom lip. You think he's being dramatic so when he leans down to kiss you again, you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. You gasp, releasing his lip and stare at him with wide eyes as his excessive warmth spurts into your cunt, filling it to the brim and beyond, to the point of leakage.
"F-Fuck... you're terrible," he groans, shuddering with tense abdominal muscles as he lures the entirety of his orgasm out. "Cum," he says, panting as he picks up the pace of his rutting to get you to follow his orgasm. "I can feel you clenching around me like hell. I know you want to," he says, reaching a hand between you and him to stimulate your clit.
Your already labored breathing picks up and your heart is pounding in your ears aggressively as you roll your hips back against his. You whimper as you feel your peak get closer and closer, a cried out and breathy "fuck!" leaving you when it arrives, followed by high pitched moans that make Toji's heart race. You arched your back off the mattress as you reached the zenith of your orgasm with the help of Toji's finger rapidly rubbing your clit while he maintained his satisfying pace inside you.
You whimper, slapping a hand onto Toji's wrist to stop his movements on you. He smirks at the sight of your trembling thighs, your heaving chest, and the sound of your dazed hums. You always were such a delicate thing. So fragile that even with just enough of his attention, he could break you.
"Tired yet?" He asks, admiring your relaxed facial features. You nod with your eyes closed, your lips parted to release little puffs of air. "Thought you'd be. I'll go grab some towels for us to shower." He pulls out of you, taking a moment to admire your collaborative masterpiece.
"Baby..." you whine, sitting up when you feel his weight lift off the bed. "I can't get up." You dramatically let yourself fall back on the bed and stick your tongue out to portray your exhaustion.
"Get up, you faker. That's all you have to do and i'll take care of the rest."
"Too tired to wash myself right now..." you say, waking up for a second before closing your eyes again. Toji can see the sly grin on your face and the little shake of your stomach as you stifle your giggles.
"Guess you're too tired to eat, too, huh? You know i've got a huge appetite, and I could eat all that food you brought by myself."
"You wouldn't," you say, abruptly sitting up on the bed and squinting at him. "There's enough to feed three people in those bags."
"I've got the stomach of three people in one, so you better catch up before you're left with my seconds."
You sigh, too tired to move, but you get up anyway and trail behind Toji. "Baby, can you pleeease clean me up? I'm beat."
He puts his hands on your shoulders as he now walks behind you. "Sure, but don't complain when I take longer on certain areas."
#toji smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fluff#dilf toji#jjk toji#jjk toji x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk#jujutsu toji#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#fanfic#toji fushiguro x you#jjk scenarios#jjk fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji fic
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t-t-teach me

summary: college life sucks. but at least you get to study with the hottest guy on campus... pairing: soobin x reader genre: college au, slight angst, smut, colleagues to study buddies to lovers warnings: academic setting, studying, mild allusions to anxiety/insecurities, reader is older than soobin, kissing, praise kink, size kink, handjob, fingering, lots of touching, protected sex (gasp), manipulation if you squint but it's all consensual, some lyrics references as usual author's note: someone on social media commented that soobin's "t-t-teach me" part in love language lowkey sounds like "t-t-touch me" and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are... word count: 2.2k
Your college life is pretty boring. Study, eat, study some more, eat again, sleep, repeat. So, when your most handsome colleague (in your humble opinion) asks you to help him study for the upcoming exams, you are tempted to agree.
"Pleaseee, Y/N," Soobin begs so cutely. The way his glasses are slightly tilted doesn't help your case. "I can even pay you!"
"I don't want your money, Soobin," you shake your head, determined to play with him a little longer. After all, it is not every day that such a hot guy acknowledges your existence.
"What do you want, then? I'd do anything, I really need to pass, my whole future depends on it."
"Well, shouldn't you have studied throughout the year?" you tease him. "Instead of, I don't know, partying or whatever it is you and your squad do."
"I don't even go to parties. I'm just in my dorm playing games all the time."
"Case in point," you tsk, pretending to be disappointed.
"Okay, I realize I should have taken the courses more seriously, but can you please consider it?"
"What's in it for me?"
"I told you already, the sky is the limit. Just t-t-teach me the material," he stammers sweetly. "When the professors do it, I literally can't focus and understand anything."
"You do realize this isn't an easy task, right? We have less than a month until finals. Even if I do help you study…I can't promise you'll pass."
"Where's your confidence, teacher?" Soobin pouts.
"I haven't agreed yet!"
"Oh, but you just did," Soobin is too adorable to say 'no' to.
So, this is how it starts. Every day, after your lectures end, you go to Soobin's dorm to study. You use every method that has been helpful for you throughout the years. Highlights, flashcards, quizzes, you try everything and anything in order to help Soobin understand the material. At the end of each week you prepare a short test that is meant to aid Soobin in revising the most important information. The first week, his results are disastrous. You honestly don't see any hope but you promised him you'd try your best so you keep modifying the material in order to improve his understanding. The second week, his results are still below average, but slightly better. By the third week, he has definitely reached the expected pass level.
"My God, Soobin, this is amazing progress!" you praise him honestly.
"Really? You think I'd be able to pass?" he asks, still worried about the upcoming exams.
"If you keep up the great work, you surely will," you are confident that he'll make it. "We have one more week until the first exam, I'm sure we'll manage to cover some more ground and revise the essentials."
"Yeah, I think there's still enough time to stick to the plan you made," Soobin nods thoughtfully.
"Here's an idea that might be motivational. If you pass all your exams, I'll reward you."
"Reward me how?" Soobin eyes you curiously.
"However you like."
"What about me paying you back?" Soobin reminds you of the original deal.
"You can just buy me dinner at that sushi place near the university," you suggest simply.
"Sounds good. I'll do my best to pass."
"I know you can do it!" at this point, you genuinely believe in him and are amazed to see how much he's improved.
The exam period starts sooner than you'd like and you now have less time for your study sessions with Soobin, prioritizing individual preparation instead. Honestly, you kind of miss seeing his pretty face every day and explaining things to him. Talking about the material out loud has been helpful for you, as well. The final exams pass by in a flash and now you only have to wait one more week for the results to come out.
"How do you think you did?" you ask Soobin on the phone.
"Ugh, don't ask," he complains. "Even though I felt like we covered all the material, having to explain it in my own words and provide examples was so draining. I have no idea how I did but don't get your hopes up."
"I see," you reply with a sigh.
"I'm not gonna ask how you did, because I'm pretty sure you nailed them," Soobin shuts down any possibility of boasting before it even started.
"Hey, the exams were pretty difficult for me, too," you mumble shyly.
"Yeah, yeah, talk to me again when you flaunt those 100 points."
"Just because I tend to get high results most of the time, doesn't mean I don't struggle," you express your feelings a little harsher than intended.
Soobin is stunned into silence.
"Sorry, that was insensitive of me to say. I guess I never realized how much effort you put into studying."
"It's okay, I'm used to being misunderstood," you answer sheepishly.
"Just because you're used to it, doesn't make it okay. Get some rest. You sure deserve it."
"You too, Soobin."
And with that, the phone call ends. Tensions run high as you anxiously check your email once every two hours for results. You probably care more about this than you should. Only this time your own results are not the only thing on your mind. You really want Soobin to be satisfied with the work he's done. Because you feel like you poured more energy into helping him and you would really hate to see him fail. Not only because you'd feel responsible for it, but because you genuinely like him and want to see him happy.
After what feels like forever, the results are out. Of course, you can only see your own due to privacy reasons. But you know Soobin has also received the same email as every other student. It is only the content that varies. You quickly check your stats and though you didn't get a 100 points everywhere, as Soobin jokingly suggested, you are still pretty proud of yourself. You eagerly grab your phone, meaning to call Soobin when you stop yourself in the last second.
What if he didn't pass all the exams? What if he doesn't want to talk about it? So, instead, you wait until he contacts you first. Luckily, you don't wait long.
"Come over" is the simple message he sends you.
You put on a jacket and practically sprint to his dorm. Is he okay? Is he inviting you over to celebrate or to drink his sorrows away? Your mind races and so do your legs as you near his room. A hesitant knock on his door. A quiet "It's open".
You cautiously enter and study Soobin's expressions in an attempt to read the room. He doesn't look depressed but he doesn't look ecstatic either. What's going on? You just need to know, the uncertainty is killing you.
"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Soobin asks you coldly.
"Uh…good news?" you mumble, feeling more nervous about whatever he has to say than about your own results.
"Good news is I passed all my exams. I got between 60 and 75 points on most of them."
"That's…incredible! Congratulations, Soobin!" you exclaim proudly. "I'm really happy for you! Wait…what are the bad news, then?"
"The bad news is…you promised me a reward," he whispers darkly.
"Why is that bad news?" you are utterly confused, as you sit down on the couch next to him. "You deserve to be rewarded, you worked so hard to accomplish this."
"That's true, but…I'm not sure you'll like the way I want to be rewarded."
"Anything is okay," you vow, not knowing what's in store for you. "I'll keep my word."
"Oh, I know you will," Soobin smirks and crashes his lips against yours, shocking you completely. Is this really happening? Did you just…both pass all your exams and are now kissing with the hottest guy in your university to celebrate?
"T-t-touch me," he begs so prettily who are you to reject him?
"Where do you want me to touch you?" you easily agree.
He grabs your hand and slides it under his shirt so that you are now caressing his abs. Fuck, his skin is so smooth and hard.
"You're so pretty," you mutter what you've been thinking every time you see him.
"I try to look my best for you," Soobin admits.
"Shut up," you shake your head in disbelief.
"Yes, teacher," he teases you.
"Don't call me that," you groan.
"What would you prefer? Ma'am?"
"Ugh, no, that makes me feel old," your eyes roll.
"Well, you are older than me. How about noona?" Soobin blinks cutely.
"Oh my God, do you ever shut up?"
"Touch me somewhere else," he doesn't ask this time, he demands. You don't even have the time to ask where he'd like to be touched before he's grabbed your wrist again and moves it right on top of his clothed cock. You're seriously gonna die. You're gonna die right in this moment and you won't even go to that cute sushi place. "Take my jeans off."
Your hands are shaking but you do your best to follow Soobin's orders. All your academic knowledge is completely useless in this moment. What you lack in practice, you try to make up for with enthusiasm. Stroking his length and licking him softly seem to do the trick and Soobin grows harder under your touch.
"Why are you so pretty?" you can't help but marvel.
"It's both a blessing and a curse," Soobin grunts loudly. "Wait, stop."
You immediately halt your movements, letting go of his cock.
"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" you ask nervously, almost getting teary-eyed at the thought.
"What? No, you're doing amazing, I just…didn't want to come yet."
"Oh, I see," you reply, even though you can't see shit. "When do you want to come?"
"Wrong question, teacher," Soobin disregards your preference for not being called that. But in this moment, you no longer care. "Replace the wh-word with another wh-word."
"Hmm," you ponder out loud. "Where do you want to come?"
"Inside you. If you'd let me."
"Erm, I'm not sure…" you try to find a polite say that you are not really interested in getting pregnant at this point of your life.
"Relax, I've got condoms," Soobin laughs at you gently. "We can save the risky activities for after graduation."
He's already thinking that far into the future?
Soobin touches your folds gently, trying to ease your worries.
"Does it feel good?"
"So good, Soobin," you confess.
"Yeah?" he smirks proudly, as his long finger stretches you open. "Bet I can teach you a thing or two myself."
"I believe you," you sigh wistfully, as you near your high.
While Soobin puts on protection, you try to think of a logical solution as to how this will work. Honestly, you are too wet to care but his enormous size is still intimidating. Your brain seems incapable of coming up with a formula, so you give up entirely. Thinking only makes it worse.
When he slides inside of you, the feeling is so overwhelming you need something to keep you from falling apart.
"Talk to me," you beg.
"What do you want me to talk about?" Soobin asks.
"Anything."
"Linguistics is the scientific study of language. The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax, morphology, phonetics and-"
"Oh my God, really?" you scoff in disbelief. "Exams are over, let's put that behind us."
"What's your love language?" Soobin wants to know.
"Probably words of affirmation. What's yours?"
"Same. Quality time, as well," he responds.
"Oh yeah, definitely," you agree.
"You're taking me so well," Soobin immediately puts the newfound knowledge to use.
"You're fucking me so well," you whisper sincerely.
And this is all it takes for you two burst in each other's arms, experiencing pleasure like never before.
Once you've dutifully helped clean each other up and are cozied up underneath the sheets, the time for a more serious conversation arrives.
"I don't wanna lose this," Soobin gestures in the air between the two of you.
"We can keep studying together," you reply dumbly.
"That's not what I meant," Soobin chuckles. "Wanna spend time with you. We don't have to be studying, we can watch movies and I can teach you how to play games and…other stuff."
"I like the sound of that," you smile warmly.
"Actually, I have a confession to make," Soobin blurts out.
"Oh?"
"Deep down, I knew I'd pass the exams somehow," Soobin whispers. "I just couldn't be bothered to study. Needed an excuse to get close to you."
You can't even be mad at him.
"I have a confession, as well," you say in return. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to know more about you. I could tell you're smart."
"Is it the glasses?" Soobin pouts adorably, tilting his head to the side.
"Nah, you just give off that…sexy nerdy vibe. Glasses or no glasses."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is. From one nerd to another."
"I can live with that," Soobin flicks your nose playfully.
"You still owe me sushi, by the way. For helping you study."
"Oh, teacher. Sushi is not the only thing you'll be eating tonight."
The End
#txt#soobin#txt smut#txt hard thoughts#txt hard hours#soobin x reader#soobin smut#soobin hard hours#soobin hard thoughts#txt imagines#soobin imagines#writing
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married life with kwon jiyong



notes minors dni contains fem aged up reader (same age as jiyong), reader has a normal job, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, slice of life, tooth rotting fluff, gentle love, suggestiveness, playful bickering and banter, mentions of drinking and smoking, smut (in the morning, oral f and m receiving, primarily sub!jiyong though it can switch), some angst (mentions of hardships and arguments, allusions to his hiatus and your struggles of being with a public figure,) overall just him being one of the keys to my heart, and inevitable typos.
requested? no because i can't be normal about anything! and i want this man so bad! this is my first time writing for jiyong; please be kind. this one is long. i really liked writing this, i hope you enjoy :)
life outside of your shared apartment is very busy, at times chaotic, and noisy. your husband and you live very different lives, and have done so since you started dating twelve years ago; him being a renowned musician, respected artist and performer, and a highly in demand global celebrity both on stage and at fashion week. you, on the other hand, worked as an executive assistant at a firm in the city for almost as long as you've been with jiyong. it came with its own stresses and discrepancies, as any job does. but when you two are home, all that matters are your wedding bands, feeding the cats, and snuggling so close on the couch that your body temperatures become one.
the love you share is at an atomic level. it doesn't manifest in finishing each other's sentences, per se, but more so jiyong knows whether you want coffee or tea that morning simply from how deep your frown is when waddling out of the bathroom. you can tell when a cold is creeping up on him simply from the sound his nostrils make upon an inhale, leaving him a steaming mug of ginger tea on his bedside table for him to drink before sleeping. if your hands are busy, he'll clip your earrings on for you. jiyong cleans your reading glasses every morning without fail, no matter how late either of you are—in the middle of his morning smoke, whilst you're in the shower, or when the coffee pot is brewing. or when you're running really late, hastily collecting your keys and trying to finish your toast, he squats down, shoe in one hand and your ankle in the other, saying "put your foot in," sliding your shoes on for you. you give him your hand without thinking when his fingers become restless. you pull him into your arms when he's being more quiet than usual. his hand will reach over to your cheek, thumb gently rubbing in a sheer streak of sunscreen that wasn't blended all the way before planting a kiss on the same spot. when he calls you, depending on the time of day, it's either to get lunch together or an attempt to get you to call off work early ("i'll tell my boss the same excuse as you if you do it too, honey." "jiyongie, cut it out. i'm late for a meeting. you're your own boss, anyway." "i married a smart one, hm?"), or how heavy his steps were when walking gave hint to how tired he was that day. you were the other's second nature—a soul meshed; equation solved.
jiyong initially fell for how unapologetic you are. who would've thought on your third date with the utmost famous kpop idol, that you'd be rapping his part in 'we belong together' to him at a random noraebang in gangnam at one in the morning? you remember thinking you couldn't believe you made it this far with him, so you just decided to do whatever—to see what happens, but also alleviate nerves, primarily. albeit you mumbled through a third of it and your hiccups from the soju you shared echoed loudly into the microphone—but you charmed the fuck out of him. he hadn't laughed that hard in a long while, and his flustered state followed him all the way home and into calling you the next day. it trickled into your relationship as it became more serious and into marriage: you were never afraid to tell him an accessory didn't go with an outfit (which has caused some petty arguments), not act like you liked a track when you didn't, or let him think he landed a joke well on a variety show (he always did, though. you just teased him so you could squish his cheeks from how deeply he pouted.) your honesty was refreshing, considering how easy it was to be surrounded by yes-men in the industry he's in.
jiyong showed his love in front of his staff, too. it wasn't only apparent in your holding of his hand in your lap during car rides, or his hand on your lower back as he showed you around sets for his music videos, but just how he visibly brightened at the sight of his wife. even in the midst of a contentious conversation with his team over creative direction, you sucked him out it just by walking into the room. that smile, the glow on his face—it was damning. better yet, you joined in too, unable to ignore the frustrated furrow of his eyebrows. some staffers couldn't help but gossip on their lunch breaks sometimes, saying in those meetings it felt like they were sat with the co-presidents of a company, or giggle over how they overheard you planting rather loud kisses on your husband's face, talking sweetly when you thought you two were alone and out of earshot ("you're my baby—my sweetheart." you kissed his cheek, soon landing on his lips with his makeshift pout from your holding of his face. "i am." he hummed, puckering his lips. "i'm your big baby."—"that's the same man who was growling into the mic the first day i met him?" said one assistant to another over lunch. "no, it makes sense," she countered with the shake of her head after taking a sip of her drink. "he's also the same guy who wrote 'good boy.'"
he does not go to sleep without you. jiyong makes due when he's overseas, albeit begrudgingly and does not let you hang up the facetime call when you both fall asleep. when you're both home, he gets up off the couch and takes your hand, tugging it. "come to bed. it's almost eleven." he said, pulling your arm. "i'm in the middle of my show, my love." you respond, pulling him back towards you. "i'll give you my ipad. now, c'mon." "fine, fine." you give in, pressing the power button on the remote before getting up. his free hand held your jaw, squishing your cheeks together and pouting your lips, placing a playful kiss. "thank you, my baby." he muttered. "yeah, yeah," you said before his lips returned to yours. "it better be charged." and it was, perched in your lap, finishing your episode with his airpods, too, jiyong snoring quietly beside you, having fallen asleep with his hand atop yours over the duvet.
when he comes home after extra exhausting days at work—especially if it was comeback prep, a studio session, a music video or performance filming day that began early that morning—he's very mumbly. upper half of his face hidden under a thick beanie, placing a lazy peck on your cheek as a greeting, shuffling to the shower, and plopping down almost cartoonishly at the dining table with a huff. you bring him a bowl of steaming leftovers from your cooking like clockwork. before you turn around to go get white wine for the both of you, jiyong takes your hand in his, pressing kisses onto your soft skin; a wordless thank you. you brush back his hair with your fingers, kissing his forehead. "i love you too." you say. "eat well, hm?"
you retrieve the previously opened bottle of white wine from one of the kitchen cabinets, carrying two glasses in your other hand. you pour the same amount for him and yourself, cheersing wordlessly before taking a drink. it was then that you saw jiyong still had a colored lens on—his left eye his natural brown, the right an unnatural pale grey, looking at you like an inverted mangekyo sharingan since the pupils weren't completely aligned—and thought to yourself oh! ... must've been a really long day, then.
he plans birthday and anniversary gifts months in advance. early in your relationship, he gifted very often, until he had no choice but to dial it down at your request. you lived in a small studio apartment until you moved in with him a year before he proposed, and there was only so much room for gifts varying from weekly flower bouquets (your personal favorite, even if it meant your kitchen counter and coffee table were virtually unusable with vases filled with daises, roses, and carnations), cartier bracelets ("do i look like someone who has somewhere to wear this to?" "yes, you do. on our trip to jeju next weekend and every single date after that."), or a first edition print of a book you love ("you spend too much money on me." "i would open my own bank just to take care of you.") even so, jiyong still has his ways—a new perfume on your vanity on the anniversary of his asking to be your boyfriend; a weekend getaway for your birthday; restocking your skincare whenever he walks in on you screwing the cap off your moisturizer to get the last bits of it; a mini tin of chocolate truffles paired with a loving handwritten note he always leaves on your bedside table before he travels overseas, even if you see him off to the airport.
wedding anniversaries are mainly spent at home. you've traveled elsewhere for the occasion before, but as you got older, cooking a warm meal together, opening a bottle of champagne, cutting expensive tiramisu cake, and sharing kisses on the couch sufficed more than enough. some anniversaries are tipsier than others, featuring either a comedically inebriated attempt of recreating your wedding dance ("and then i spun you around—" "no, you dipped me, jiyong." "hey! you don't think i know what happened at my own wedding?" "i was there, too! and you dipped me!") whilst the cats meow in protest of the noise, or going down a youtube rabbit hole and him begging you not to put on the bigbang secret garden parody in the recommended ("but it's my favorite thing you've ever done!" "stop lying, i know you like zutter the most!"), or the tradition of him playing 'HoneyBaeGirl,' a short song he wrote—and many since then—about you after becoming official all those years ago ("'girl, you make my pen fly off my paper, but not as fast as the stork that'll carry our baby' ... you really liked me that much?" "you say this every year, and i always tell you that i started looking at rings before our six months.")
however, without fail, every year jiyong is the last to fall asleep on the night of your anniversary. your upper half atop his, legs entangled underneath the fluffy duvet, his arms wrapped around your back, hands holding your head to his chest; two tall glasses once filled with water on his nightside table, downed before bed in an effort to thwart a possible hangover the next day. it's the feeling of his fingers combing your hair back that lulls you to sleep, along with the intermittent flutter of kisses to your forehead, and the vibrations of his chuckles against your ear when you mumbled something tiredly. "i love you so much, honey. thank you for another year." he spoke quietly. "i love you too," you muttered, slumber heavy in your senses. "let's do a millennia." he grinned. "let's do it."
when you fall asleep, his palm rests along your jaw, thumb tracing the supple skin of your cheekbone back and forth. his eyes would watch the rise and fall of your chest against his, or peer down at your face. so blissfully asleep, so easily beautiful. no matter how late at night, or how much liquor he drank, as if on cue, his mind shuffled through memories in a scattered sequence—the first time you spoke on the phone so long that the early morning sun caught him off guard; the coordinated efforts to see you in private; when your relationship leaked anyway during your two year anniversary trip (whilst you were still actively on it); when you were defiant upon his suggesting to break up to protect you ("why should i compromise for people who live in a false reality?"); hundreds of hours spent in the studio when dates felt impossible with his schedule, to you ultimately getting fed up and just meeting him where he was, leading to endless recordings he's kept on his laptop of you haphazardly attempting to rap to a beat he's made or sampling you in songs that stay between the two of you; his proposal, and both of yours blubbering tears ("c-can i—will you—" "—y-yes! oh my god, yes!" "i have to finish the question—oh my god, i can't breath through my own tears—c'mere, i'll wipe yours."); or one night on your four year wedding anniversary trip when you two were at polar opposite ends of the hotel lobby after a particularly rowdy night at the club together following a romantic dinner, both equally drunk if not you rivaling him—jiyong sat in a cushioned chair, on the phone with either an assistant, producer, or his financial advisor. you didn't know, nor the third rum and coke looming in your system hadn't made you care all that much. you were too busy trying to keep your eyes open to not out your deep inebriation to the poor concierge working the overnight shift whilst jiyong spoke quietly albeit with a finger in his other ear as if he was still in the club.
it was his recollection of this next part that always made jiyong grin to himself, the vibrations of his chuckle against your ear resulting in your satisfied yet meek hum amidst your slumber: "could you—would you be able to bring more towels to suite 403?" you asked politely, attempting irrationally to thwart the continued slurring of your words by straightening your posture. "it should be under the name . . . " your eyes went wide. "oh my goodness, what's my name?" you looked around worriedly, catching your shaky balance by gripping the counter, unable to believe that you were so far gone that your surname temporarily slipped from your consciousness. the concierge tried to get your attention saying she knew who you were as she was the person who checked you in a few days ago, but your fingers tapped your lips anxiously, seeing jiyong get up from his seat and walk over. "ji . .. jiyong—" you tried to call him over, but it felt like your voice couldn't go above a certain point. you turned back to the concierge, blurting the first thing that came to mind: "dragon. try dragon." you pointed to the computer, irrational worry knotted between your eyebrows. then your heart dropped for an entirely different reason: "i just compromised our safety." "what?" jiyong giggled beside you, hand finding your hip. "i leave you alone for two minutes and you're talking like you're in a bond film." you quickly leaned towards his ear, making yourself dizzy in the process. "i just told them you're g-dragon." you whispered frantically. he couldn't hold in his laughter, finding the ordeal amusing. the look on your face wasn't any better. he was pocketing this memory forever."that's fine, my love. they know—" "—i told them i'm mrs. dragon!" you whispered. "well, for one: you are." he shrugged his shoulders, hiccuping in the middle of his colorful laughter. "and two: its fine," jiyong assured, taking your hand. its good that we're leaving tomorrow, though. his inner monologue percolated at the back of his head. "let's head to our room. we're gonna feel this in the morning."
speaking of mornings: they're sacred in your household. historically, jiyong's the first to wake. but he doesn't get up until a while later, often silently coexisting with your sleeping form. call it two lost souls finding each other in this life, mere coincidence, or whatever it may be, but you wake up no more than a half hour after him—jiyong's ears perking up at the sound of your all-too-familiar, prolonged hmph. he scoots over, duvet rustling as his body molds against yours, lips finding that spot on your temple. you respond with the gradual wrapping of your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer, warmth doubling. "good morning." he mumbled lowly, satisfied with your barely passing verbal response of another hmph. after a while, you nudge him off, feeling sweat start to build. "m'boiling." "you're s'mean." jiyong protested weakly, but obliged, moving back lazily to his side of the bed. like clockwork, jiyong felt a tug at the collar of his shirt, or hand on his shoulder if he slept without one some moments later, beckoning him when you were more awake, voice coherent. "come back here." "i thought i almost killed you." "stop being dramatic. its barely seven in the morning." "you made me this way." "fine. then i'll take the car myself to work." it took a moment, but jiyong turned back to you, huffing with an air of faux stubbornness upon your lips finding his cheek. "you know i always take to you to work." jiyong muttered into your neck. "its non-negotiable." you adjusted your position, relieving your back and allowing him to lay more comfortably between your legs, warmth of your thighs snuggling against his waist. "anything's on the table if you act stupid enough." "i don't have the brainpower for a witty comeback." "be quiet and let me hold you, then."
you were devastatingly beautiful in the mornings. one peek into your brain and jiyong knew you would think your dry lips, oily t-zone, shorts that rode up your ass comedically and uncomfortably, and sleep lines running across your cheek and arm after a restful night of sleep wasn't exactly the sight—but you were wrong; you were a sight to behold. jiyong's held that sense of awe from the first time you fell asleep beside him on one of your first movie nights as twenty-something-year-olds—never forgetting what it felt like to internalize the sound of your softened breaths, or your head dropping to his shoulder. to have your trust whilst you were in such a vulnerable state tugged at his tear ducts, despite his failed argument of "its because we were watching 'little miss sunshine' that i got so worked up," only to be pulled into your arms upon your catching sight of his increasingly glossy eyes, adorning his face with kisses.
it was the same sensation today as he opened his eyes, thumb tracing the wrinkles of your bottom lip before settling in the temporary divot of your cheek casted by your pillow; waist welcoming the subtle grip of those thick thighs that bestow upon him both heavenly pleasures and a sense of home; fingers fluttering past your rolls for his palm to grip the side of your right thigh, feeling the plushness of your skin nurtured by moisturizer and body oil applied the night before, humming in content at the soft prickle of body hair against his palm; hand sneaking past the bottom hem of your shorts, thumb kneading the powdery plushness of your ass, earning him a shaky breath as his lips peppered kisses onto your neck. jiyong slowly trailed down your chest, propping himself up with his free elbow, pulling your cami down enough to expose your right breast. he relished in your scent, basking in the lingering luxurious vanilla as his lips encircled your areola before taking it entirely in his mouth. he suckled with intent, lapping your hardening peak with his eyes closed. if he didn't think about it, he'd lull himself to sleep. it's happened before.
you brought his free hand to your lips, pressing kisses onto his fingertips until you cut yourself off with a small moan, looking down at your husband completely lost in you. the sun had barely began to rise, but here you two were, clearing either of your senses of slumber with your concurrent libidos—like you weren't a day past twenty-four; going at it in a company car before he walked into the practice room with an unmatched aura and graphic tee on inside out, hair tousled. "make it quick," you whispered, bottom lip caught between your teeth when his hand kneaded your left breast. "have to get up in fifteen minutes." "got it." he murmured. jiyong worked quickly, shoving his pants below his knees whilst you pull your shorts down enough to let him in with ease. it was a picturesque way to start your day: holding onto your husband's shoulders as he worked his hips into yours, listening to his quick pants since he's historically ignored the fact that he's more sensitive in the mornings as to not keep himself from making love to the pussy god herself carved for and bestowed upon him all those years ago—every squeeze a blessing; squirm fruitful bounty; utterance of your name a prayer.
jiyong sounded so frail in your ear, begging for mercy from something he started. "s-shit—f-fuck—slow d-down—" he said to no one but himself, voice falling into a mewl, breathing heavily. "how do you—how do you still feel so g-good after all this time? huh?" he's felt you unabashedly raw for years, but some part of him will always be left in awe—where does he begin? jiyong already sees the pearly gates when the skeleton of his name is whispered meekly through your teeth, let alone how it seems you mutually long for one another in your respective rem cycles, considering you slip so swiftly into one another—literally and metaphorically—mere minutes after you've woken up. its not that odd or rather dubious cliché of "feeling young again" or whatever the fuck—its the familiarity of someone that keeps you sane and drives you crazy all the same. and how your muscle memory serves you right even in a state of slight deliriousness, wrapping your legs as best you can around his waist as his heavy balls plop against the bottom of your ass . . . it was beyond jiyong how he wasn't a father of five yet.
"mmf! fuck! t-taking it s-so well—so e-early in the m-morning, too." "w-wouldn't want it any other—o-oh my god, just like that! just like that!" you grabbed at the back of his shoulders, chest pushing into his, your back arching. "harder, jiyongie. h-harder." the look on your face was his motivation to keep going despite his increasingly blurry vision and mounting pressure on his knees from being in the same position. there it was—the face he strived to make music to encapsulate; etched in his memory so many times, but when he sees it, its like he's never seen it before; if someone showed twenty-year-old him a photo of you and told him you were going to be his wife, he'd need a defibrillator. "f-fuck! h—h-haa!" he whimpered faintly, eyebrows contorted upward, hearing the bed creak as he rammed into you. you were in a state of bliss: hair messy, dried drop of drool in the corner of your mouth, toes curling into the linen, sleepies in the corners of your eyes—stretched out by the love of your life at 7:15 in the morning. you weren't particularly religious, but perhaps this is what being god's favorite feels like.
he's a pussy eater to his core. you spent months stuffing your face into your pillow so your roommates wouldn't overhear at three in the morning; jiyong put a chair to the door when you came by promptly before he was due to work with the company producers that day, making way for you two to become masters at hiding what went down less than an hour before on the same couch his boss was now sitting on; your honeymoon reeked of it—and he's a devout enjoyer to this day. the night you sat on his face for the first time, he booked a studio afterwards whilst you slept peacefully next to him on your full size bed—saying some of the raunchiest shit he's ever thought of into that microphone when no one was around. only to play it for you the next night he was over at your apartment, physically feeling his soul achieve completion when you mounted his face again, disappearing between your thighs; seeing double when you rode his cock like it was your last night alive. it was also a rare night where all of your roommates were out—you didn't take that opportunity lightly. or gently. or timidly, really.
his gaze lingers on you in the kitchen the weekends you have off, stealing glances whilst you tried to make something out of the leftovers from the fridge for lunch; growing sick of ordering in all the time. jiyong's attention had long strayed from whatever was playing on the television, fingers toying with the press-on that was half-on half-off his middle finger, eyes barely diverting from you—relaxed in a cami and shorts, stomach peeking over the top hem, your cellulite and curvature of your body illuminated by the streaks of sunlight pouring in from the balcony window—even when one of the cat's dotingly rubbed against his leg when walking past. he got up from the couch, making his way over. he initially made his presence known with his palm tracing your hips, following the curvature of your ass before his chin settled on your shoulder. it was normal—nothing to be picked up on; a gesture you love so tenderly. in fact, you were the one who turned your head to look at him with a soft grin, leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss. it was the way jiyong reconnected it—slow and with a soft, stuttered hum—that you knew what was up.
"not now." you tutted. as if on cue, your stomach grumbled lowly. "m'hungry." "i am too." jiyong's palm rode up your stomach before nestling on your breast, kneading it slowly—another familiar touch, you just didn't have the patience for it right now. his other hand moved the strap of your cami on your other shoulder, letting it fall down your arm, pressing a kiss onto your skin. "you look s'good. can't help it. wanna taste." he muttered. "here, i'll get on the floor. just stay there." before he made his descent, you turned your head. "you're the one who told me his left knee's been giving him problems these last few days. has that suddenly disappeared?" he pouted. "i wanted to be sexy." you mimicked his pout, jutting your bottom lip. "midday on sunday when i'm trying to make us sandwiches out of more than tuna and leftover kimchi?" you quip. he leaned closer, rivaling your faux pout. "mhm," he closed the gap, kissing your cheek. "should've done it this morning when i had the chance. got too shy." you scoffed. "don't make me laugh," you said. "you're the same person who—what was it, again? the second?" you thought aloud; the memory clear in your head as confirmation. "oh, right. yeah—when you were called into the office the second time dispatch got those photos of us, and you told your boss you'd write a song about our 'tender love' to drive up album sales, since that's what he always talked about." jiyong shrugged his shoulders. "i gave him an in. but i am shy." "you can be. sometimes." "all the time." "sometimes." "all the time."
you adore his facial hair to the point of contemplating hiding his shaving kit. his hiatus, as it riddled him with questions of who he is and where he stands in the world, had its own unexpected pockets of unbridled humanity not tainted by the unforgiving eye of societal pressures. it showed in how jiyong texted you whilst you were at work when it became him being the one waiting for his spouse to come home—photos of the cats, what he made for lunch and planned on either making or ordering for dinner, and that he was going an episode back on the series you two were watching together because he didn't remember how a certain plot point progressed. this was especially prevalent during his military service: Don't worry, I'll remember where we left off
on those days he had his scruff—lining his upper lip and peppering his chin—you were unabashed. sure, in the first year or two when you started dating, it was shy glances and hiding your disappointment when he showed up to your apartment freshly-shaven before a comeback. jiyong may have been young, but he wasn't clueless. it was hard not to put the pieces together whenever it was always "one more kiss" when he left for the night, seeing your eyes flutter to his mouth before leaning in again; your back already arched when he trailed kisses down your inner thighs before eating you out, muffling your own moans behind your palm from how good his scruff felt against your skin. this was certainly the tipping point. you never forgot what his "let me hear you" sounded like—slightly demanding, but all the more knowing. it made you moan louder, unabashedly stuffing his face into your cunt with his tongue's every ministration.
the floodgates had opened with you knowing he knew; fucking him as he tried to fuck you from behind, embattling for power. jiyong tried to keep his composure—it was the hottest thing he's ever fucking seen—keeping his grip on your hips, grunting in the midst of your moans. it was the clapping of skin and watching your globes recoil after hitting his pelvis repeatedly that made him surrender his grip to the headboard to keep his balance. and your breathy fucking "jiyongie—j-jiyongie!" bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyebrows curled upward; elbows and knees set ablaze, stomach rubbing uncomfortably against the duvet, but it felt too good to stop. "f-feel so fucking good!" you cried, eyes rolling back hearing his whimper. "fuck me back. fuck me back—n-need it, baby. need it s'bad." jiyong slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, hearing you wince longingly at the loss of him filling you up. the condom was creamy and visibly wet. he moaned when he saw his cock twitch inside of you. "all—all this—hngh! f-fuck!" he gradually pushed back in, feeling your gummy walls welcome him like never before. "a-all this b-because of some facial hair, baby? yeah?" "y-yes!" you gasped, eyes squeezing shut when his hips showed no mercy. jiyong ate his own words when he came over a different night, telling you he was going to shave tomorrow, thinking he would be able to handle whatever came his way with a smug grin. he looked ghostly an hour later—spread eagle on your bed, hands lifeless on either side of your ass, only mustering enough strength to kiss you back to break it with his own pathetic whimper, begging for more.
now its sweet hums of satisfaction feeling his scruff when he gives you a kiss before work, tracing it with your fingers as he lulls himself to sleep, or admiring how beautiful he looks. don't get it twisted—those desires never went away. jiyong leads you to his lips with his tongue the nights he comes home from traveling abroad, kissing you in just the way you like, but also the way he knows you feel his four-day-old scruff against your skin. it earns him the chill of your engagement ring and wedding band on the back of his neck, reconnecting the kiss sensually but with a hint of hunger, tilting your head to deepen it. you broke the kiss to catch your breath, forehead landing on his as the water sloshed around you in the tub, his fingers fucking you underneath the rose-scented suds. "a little gentler, jiyongie." "m'sorry," he mumbled. "its okay—" "—just missed my love so much, is all." "missed you t-too." his lips cast a kiss on your shoulder before settling his forehead there, hearing your more satisfied breath when he altered his pace.
or a few days later, when he was trying so hard to watch the confession between the two leads of a series he's been waiting eighteen episodes to see with you, but just couldn't stop himself from shoving his dick deeper into your mouth. there you were, back of your head facing the television, laying comfortably on your side with your feet curled up on the bed, listening to the dialogue whilst sucking your husband's dick. you did it with bliss—like second nature, only opening your eyes to catch your breath and pump his hard cock coated with a mixture of his slick and your spit. he watched you with deeply furrowed eyebrows and his bottom lip begging for mercy—contrasting wildly with how casually he propped his head up with his elbow on his pillow. "f-fuck—a-agh!" he mewled, eyes squeezing shut as you did what he loved most, and may or may not have percolated at the back of his mind when he gifted you a lady dior bag for your birthday that year—sucking hard on his tip, then slowly letting go. the sound your cheeks made when un-hollowing was diabolical. twenty-five year old jiyong would want to somehow sneak that into a b-side, distorting the sound enough to pass it as part of the beat drop or something—anything; seamless to the listener, sinful to him. the idea still stood all these years later, but perhaps he would stick to just keeping it in the lyrics . . .
"hngh! oh my fucking—" jiyong's hand slipped into your hair without thinking, at your complete helm as he watched you take more than half of him into your mouth, sucking hard, before bobbing up and down normally. his voice was a noticeable octave higher—"like that, like that—k-keep—keep going!" "shut up," you muttered. you readjusted yourself on your elbow, feeling your neck begin to strain, his hand falling lifeless onto the bed. you let go of his dick, wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, noticing how his cock barely moved from how hard it was. you started pumping him again, hearing him suck a breath through his teeth. "can't hear the tv. turn up the volume." "o-okay, honey—" jiyong gasped when he returned to your mouth. "okay—f-fuck! oh, fuck—okay!" he reached with his non-dominant hand to the nightside table, aimlessly grabbing for the remote, knocking it to the floor in the process. the small crash made you nearly choke on his dick, popping off quickly in attempts to stifle your laughter behind your hand. "s'fine—s'fine. i got it—" he tried to reach down, but to no avail. "get back here," you beckoned, tugging at his shirt. "you've waited long enough."
this goes without saying, but you have everything you could ever need. from the moment he gave you his black card after a year of dating to use on anything you want, spending five minutes after that ensuring you that he was in the right state of mind ("why're you giving this to me? you barely know me." "what? you and i both know i know you enough to trust you.") to calling you that same week to tell you its okay to use it after seeing only two charges for coffee a few days apart ("i want to take care of you. you're the only one for me, you know that?" "you're crazy." "well, for you." "i set myself up for that one, didn't i?") to feeling utmost satisfaction seeing charges for household maintenance or paying for a movie night with your friends ("it felt rebellious to spend twenty dollars per ticket for five people with someone else's money." "i think you're the funniest person i know.")
you weren't exactly a public figure—jiyong made sure of that as much as he possibly could, as it was your wish—but that didn't mean you were completely or utterly unrecognizable. photos of existed out there of the two of you, either floated around by dispatch, or when your thank-you-for-attending cards containing your official wedding portrait leaked to the press—both with years in-between them. you went to concerts when you felt comfortable enough or could. he never pressured you to do something you didn't want to, but if he really wanted you to come (which was more often than not, if not all the time,) he'd find his ways: "there's going to be a fun rendition of crooked, and my hair will be styled the way you like." "jiyong, i already took my pto. i'm coming." "i love you so much."
in the years of his hiatus, there were several months that went by where everything felt fine, so you took public transit. it wasn't much or often, per se, only when jiyong felt too under the weather to drive you ("head down to the lot. i'll get the keys, baby." "you look ghostly. i'll leave ginger tea brewing on the stove before i leave."), wasn't home, or when he woke up feeling a little off, opting to stay in bed for a little while longer after giving you a tender kiss goodbye. if you looked out the window long enough during that fifteen minute commute, you suddenly felt like the twenty-one year old you once were that wasn't able to be on time for anything, let alone for classes. there were some days you would see the knowing glances from other passengers, or double takes a fool wouldn't notice. to your fortune, they either didn't say anything, or you sped to the escalator before they could.
one evening after work, however, you weren't headed home but out to dinner with a friend. several stops before your usual terminal, cutting down the usual fifteen minute ride to four—remember that. you rushed into the crowded train car before the doors closed, holding onto a nearby pole a small group of passengers around you gripped, fixing your hair that was messily tousled by the wind and securing your purse over your shoulder. in the midst of that, you caught sight of a prototype peaceminusone daisy pin, having forgotten you clipped it onto your blazer weeks ago after jiyong showed you the new collaboration he was working on. it was a moment that lasted mere seconds, the pin covered up by your purse strap after adjusting your posture, but it was enough for someone to see and make the connection after recognizing you. you hadn't realized someone was tailing you until you were outside of the restaurant. jiyong didn't let you go on public transit again for over a year, hiring an on-call chauffeur that same week.
private as you were, and as much the universe tested the both of you—you and jiyong had ways of finding humor amidst the turmoil. he's culturally ordained the king of kpop, yes, but also is equally deserving of the title of being-subtle-but-not-silent—exhibit a being the year when he showed up to paris fashion week with a strategically placed dark maroon-hued kiss mark in the divot of his collarbone, purposefully poking out of the collar of the chanel piece he was wearing. you did it in a rush in the bathroom of his hotel suite as he was running late; the idea coming to the both of you when you put the finishing touches on his outfit—a long-standing tradition usually administered through dusting something off his clothing, adjusting an accessory, or in this case, applying one. netizens ate each other alive—some saying it was what it clearly was, despite the angle of the photos and his clothing hiding a lot but not all, and others convincing themselves it was a birthmark not seen before that day, or a new tattoo. exhibit b being when you were spotted on a "rare public outing" (dispatch's words, not yours; you're no stranger to grocery runs) wearing a very obviously bootlegged g-dragon shirt—his face pixelated and off-center in the front, name separated by several spaces as opposed to a hyphen in the back; a gag gift from a friend a few christmases ago. he thought it was hilarious, sending you the photos himself: You look hot. The guy on your shirt not so much :)
it was a lovely surprise to see you in the crowd when bigbang returned to the stage at mama, stood in a closed-off section of the seating with members of his staff. the lip readers of the internet metaphorically rode off into the sunset after revealing to the world that you, indeed, said gleefully to his manager that you've known for years: "he looks so fucking good, oh my god!" and "i'm glad he went with that necklace!" whilst pointing at the stage—all before dancing and shouting the words back to him like it was your last night alive, of course. another staff member took a video and sent it to the group chat for him to watch in bed whilst you did your skincare in the en suite, tucked into his side, burying his face into his pillow as his face grew warmer.
to this day, he becomes so unexpectedly shy. that same night, for example, you had to use both hands to tug his shoulder to get him to look at you. even then, he still hid his face in his pillow, not having the gall to look at you or wipe that stupid smile off his face. your kisses to his warming cheek didn't help him, let alone your usual line: "you've made me see stars. now you don't want to see me?" you said by his ear, hand rubbing up his back tenderly, giggling upon hearing his muffled groan. "don't say that," he elongated the last syllable, arm slinging over your waist, fingers grazing the top of your ass. "you know i can't bear it." "mhm," you hummed, voice sounding akin to honey. "at least give me a goodnight kiss. i worked so hard cheering for you tonight, you know?" you smiled, hand now coming up to brush his hair back, ushering him to you. jiyong lifted his head, bringing his lips to yours. your hand held his cheek, kissing him back, lips separating slowly. "i love you." you whispered. "i love you more."
or when you two make lunch together, him washing and cutting the vegetables whilst you looked for the pan needed to sauté for the quick dish you decided to make that afternoon. you placed the pan on the stove, turning the correlating knob to ignite the fire underneath, drizzling it with olive oil whilst it began to heat up; an anecdote from work commentating everything. "thought i heard something about lay-offs. turns out, it was just that asshole co-worker that got laid over the weekend." jiyong's eyebrows raised, amused. "you heard that on your lunch break?" you gave him a look that deepened his upside down grin, shaking your head. "the shit i hear, my love," you tutted. "i'm surprised i'm not stuck in a state of perpetual grievance." he let out a laugh, his eyes kissing at the end. "you can be so funny, you know?" "can be?" you quipped, unable to hide your grin. "i thought it was the funniest person you knew, hm?" you tugged at this shirt, bringing his cheek to your lips.
your hand found his lower back, rubbing sweetly. "have you finished halving the tomatoes? i think the rice should be done by now." you thought aloud, peering over to the opposite end of the counter, seeing the steam pour out of the cooker. "mhm. almost." he murmured, feeling his neck and face warm. you turned to look at him, seeing the all-too-familiar avoidant gaze and awkwardly readjusting of his posture, topped off with a sharp inhale through his nostrils. you smiled knowingly, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him. "did i blink and suddenly twenty-four year old jiyong showed up?" "stop it." he murmured, prolonging that last syllable. "you were so cute back then—" "—am i not cute now?" "hush. let me say my case." his face scrunched up with his smile, landing his forehead against yours. "we didn't know bullshit about anything. you were so keen to please. in more ways that one." he buried his face in your neck, making you laugh, skin hot against yours as your hands traveled up his back. "you're going to kill me." he muttered. "you know," you said to him. "there's not a boring day with you."
arguments aren't non-existent. when they occurred, you both knew each other well enough to take whatever course of action necessary: talking it out, or if things still felt too hot, taking a breather. you trusted each other to know things would mend, no matter if it was immediate or after some hours of silence. the only exception was if one happened before he had to travel for work—he squashed that shit like a bug. he learned that lesson the hard way in his mid-twenties, thinking he could hold out and carry a grudge to prove a point over some petty argument, only to fly home during the first two-day break on tour, knocking on your door when he knew you were home from work. jiyong couldn't live with it, being hundreds if not thousands of miles away from you, knowing something was pestering your mind, or hurt was ruminating somewhere inside you. no relationship is perfect, but he would be damned if he didn't at least try—especially through the ruckus you've endured from being with someone as famous as him. to jiyong, its the least he could do. he feels fortunate the universe led him to a spouse who wants to handle things with care as much as he does—to move mutually and maturely.
when he misses you, its palpable. whether it be when you leave the passenger's seat after he drops you off at work, or when you can't come with him to new york fashion week, he feels it. as do you. its never nice to wake up to an empty house, or an unfamiliar hotel room, but you make due. texts suffice as much as it can if you can't facetime, making you grin to yourself at your desk: Do you like it? he sent over a mirror selfie and staff-taken photos of him in a chanel ensemble he wore to a runway show in what was his afternoon and your early morning, hearting the one where he looked a little caught off guard. I do! Your hair color clashes with the outfit, though you typed back, stifling your laughter at his response ten minutes later: I'm not coming home. I'm laughing too much at my desk you're going to get me in trouble, you responded, only to have to put your hand over your mouth and muffle yourself. Stop laughing at my misery
jiyong texted you throughout the night for you to read in the morning: photos of his food, Here's the beer I paid way too much for, asking about the cats, and selfies of him in any state: one eye open with the other closed as his makeup artist does his eyeshadow; him pretending to smoke his lighter; one where nothing but his eyes and forehead are visible with the car window down halfway, a glimpse of the empire state building behind him with the accompanying Do you know where I am right now; I think we should have gotten married here; to the most recent I miss you a lot my baby. Call me when you wake up sent an hour ago. it was early morning for you and early evening for jiyong—you swiped right on his last message: Good morning from my side of the world; Are you at your hotel? Make sure you're outside in about 10 min. I'm going to have breakfast on the balcony, we can look at the same sky together
jiyong was out to dinner with his staff, excusing himself from the table when your texts came through. he stepped outside, your phone vibrating after you took your first bite of toast. he felt his sinuses loosen, his eyes misty at the sound of your voice on the other end of the line. it hadn't even been twelve hours since he last heard you, but he got worked up nonetheless: "hello? jiyong, can you hear me?" "yeah, honey. i can hear you," he nodded, blinking hard. "i have—i have the wifi. i'm outside. out to dinner." he swallowed. "what does the sky look like for you? its getting dark here. central park is across the street, and i think i see the moon over one of the trees." "hmm," you thought aloud, leaning to your left. "its early here. the sun hasn't come over the building yet. but the sky is clear. its nice today." "yeah?" he smiled, his vision blurry. "thats—thats good. i'm glad, honey." he nodded, looking down at the sidewalk pavement. "listen, uh . . . you need to stop being randomly poetic over text." "randomly poetic?" "like—like what you said about looking at the same sky, or something." his mind was scrambled. you heard him sniffle. "it hit me—it hit me a little hard."
"oh," your heart melted. "i'm . . . sorry?" you heard him laugh on the other side of the line, hiding your face behind your hand from no one. "its okay, honey. its okay." he assured with a stupidly big smile, despite you not being able to see. "i guess what i'm trying to say is, i don't know how i got so lucky." he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. "and my plane can't come fast enough, you know?" "i know." you nodded, looking down at the floor, corner of your lip caught between your teeth whilst your eyes watered. "you can't make me cry not even an hour after i wake up. you should pay a fine. or something." he let out a colorful laugh, not paying mind to the stares he got from passerbys. "thats fair." he said. "i have to finish breakfast and plate the cats' food. the car'll be coming in ten minutes." "you need to quit that damn job and spend all your time with me. i've been telling you for years now, baby."
you smirked to yourself, taking a bite of your toast. "listen, you keep crying over me like this," you said after taking a sip of water. "then maybe becoming a trophy wife is written in my fate." you joked, hearing him laugh. "i love you!" he exclaimed, smile evident in his voice. "i love you so fucking much, holy shit." "if you're still up by then, i'll call you during my lunch break." "oh, i'll be up. don't worry." he shook his head in reassurance, free hand on his hip. "i'll stay up for you. let me know when you get to work, okay? i love you." "i love you tenderly."
honey's taglist! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf, @infinetlyforgotten, @mesopotamism, @riddlerloveb0t, @pepsicolapussi
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死 KKANGPAE | #20 死
† ghosts that haunt †

"Sometimes the most dangerous wounds are the ones that never bleed on the outside—they fester in silence until one wrong touch makes everything spill out."

next | index
— chapter details
word count: 9.4k
content: post-mission decompression featuring motorcycle rides through neon seoul, convenience store philosophy over cheap beer, jeon's emotional walls slamming back up harder than ever, j-hope's seven-year sobriety streak broken to protect y/n from v's predatory games, ad and j-hope's complex friendship revealing itself through crisis, gang members arguing about getting high like college kids, and the discovery that everyone in kkangpae carries demons they're trying to outrun

☠ author's note ☠
This chapter gutted me to write. Not because of the action (though, yes, Fervio's eye contact is a jumpscare), but because it begins cracking open the emotional center of the story. What begins as a seemingly quiet moment—a late-night beer, a 7/11 pit stop, a chance to breathe—becomes a confrontation with identity, projection, and the illusion of normalcy.
The psychology of this chapter is all about what we don't say. What we deflect. What we bury so deep, even tenderness feels like violence.
Jeon isn't pushing the reader away because he hates her. He's pushing because she sees him. And when your entire survival has depended on being unreadable, invisible, dangerous on purpose? Being seen is fucking terrifying. It strips you. It asks, what's left of me once I put the gun down?
Reader's mistake—understandable, human—is thinking that wanting to understand someone is inherently safe. That intention equals permission. And it doesn't. Not always. The line between empathy and intrusion is razor-thin when trauma's involved. And Jeon is not healed. He's fragmented, coiled like wire, and for him, vulnerability is not romantic—it's lethal.
This chapter is also the turning point where the reader starts to understand that being in Kkangpae isn't about who you kill. It's about who you let live in your head. Hobi, Jeon, AD—every single one of them is haunted. You don't get to this point in the underworld without dragging ghosts behind you, and this is the chapter where those ghosts stop being metaphorical.
Some of you will hate that Jeon lashes out. That he refuses softness. That he uses cruelty as armor. But that's the point. This story isn't about quick healing arcs or morally sanitized character growth. It's about what happens when you try to love someone who doesn't think they're lovable. And what happens when you realize you might not be either.
I'll say this again, because it matters: you are not owed someone's vulnerability just because you want it. And love—real love, the kind that survives places like this—isn't about unraveling someone until they break. It's about waiting at the door and letting them open it.
And sometimes, they don't.
Anyway. Hope you like the chapter ♡

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎
The thing about riding through Seoul at night with a man who's trying really hard to pretend you don't exist? It fucking sucks.
The wind whips past as you race through Seoul's neon jungle and it feels good—like it's scrubbing away all that weird tension from Jeon's ice-queen act earlier. At this point, the city's just a blur of lights and shadows, the bike's engine drowning out everything except your thoughts.
There's something weirdly freeing about being just another couple of idiots on a motorcycle at night.
Nobody knows you're gang members. Nobody knows about the psychos you just left behind. Nobody knows about whatever the fuck that 'Sylvia' thing was about.
Right now, you're just... existing.
You keep your arms wrapped around Jeon because you n̶e̶e̶d̶ have to. That cold dismissal of his still stings, but the speed and the night air make it easier to pretend it doesn't.
Almost easier.
The 7/11 sign catches your eye—this bright, artificial beacon of normalcy in the middle of all this chaos.
Something about it calls to you. Maybe it's because it's so fucking normal. Maybe you just need a minute to breathe air that doesn't taste like pine and secrets.
"Pull over," you say, tapping his shoulder and pointing at the store.
You're not even sure why you want to stop. Maybe you just need to stand on solid ground for a minute. Maybe you need to remind yourself that the regular world still exists outside of Kkangpae's bubble.
Jeon doesn't argue, just guides the bike to the curb with that nonchalance of his that makes everything look easy. The engine rumbles for a second before he kills it, and suddenly the night feels too quiet.
Your legs are shaky when you climb off, but it's not from the ride. It's something else—this weird mix of leftover adrenaline and... whatever the fuck that conversation did to your nerves.
You need something normal. Something that doesn't involve creepy yellow contacts or coded warnings or names that make Jeon shut down completely.
You watch the man himself pull off his helmet, his hair falling into his eyes in that annoyingly perfect way that one would think probably takes hours to practice.
He doesn't even steal a glance your way—just keeps this unreadable expression that doesn't give anything away.
Back to his usual self, huh.
He nods toward the store's entrance, and you think maybe he needs this break from reality too.
The 7/11's wacky lights hit different after spending so much time in that fancy-ass castle hidden in the woods.
The doors whoosh shut behind you, and suddenly you're wrapped in this bubble of artificial cool air and the smell of cheap coffee.
It's weirdly comforting, like stepping into a pocket dimension where you're just a normal person buying normal things.
If only.
You wander down the aisles, running your fingers over bags of chips and candy bars. It feels surreal—like playing pretend at being regular.
Four months ago, this was just another convenience store. Now it feels like visiting a museum of your old life, everything familiar but somehow distant.
Jeon's still outside, probably looking like the world's hottest security guard as he leans against his bike. You can feel him watching you through the windows, probably wondering what the fuck you're doing.
But he doesn't come in, doesn't rush you.
Maybe he gets it—this need to pretend everything's normal for five fucking minutes.
You grab some chips because your stomach's been doing that angry growling thing for the past hour. Add a drink because your throat's still dry from all that talking with Fervio and his creepy yellow contacts. Then your eyes land on the beer fridge, and yeah—after the night you've had? You definitely deserve alcohol.
The cashier looks about as dead inside as you feel, barely glancing at your random assortment of convenience store therapy. You kind of want to tell him "hey, at least you don't have to flirt with psychopaths for a living," but that might blow your cover.
Back outside, you hold up the beer like a peace offering.
"Thought you might need this," you say, trying to sound casual even though there's still this weird tension hanging between you from the whole thing.
His eyes flick from the beer to his bike, and suddenly there's this little smirk playing around his lips.
"You trying to get me fined?" The words come out all low and rough, and fuck—your body really needs to stop reacting every time he uses that voice. "Not sure how driving under the influence is gonna look on my resume."
You lean back against the bike, trying to look cool and unbothered even though your skin's still buzzing from earlier.
"Please," you scoff, "I've seen how you handle this thing. Pretty sure you could drive it in your sleep."
He smiles, but takes the beer, fingers brushing against yours, and god—even that tiny contact sends electricity shooting up your arm.
"Just one drink," Jeon says, popping the can open with this casual flick of his thumb that somehow manages to look cool. "Don't want you thinking you can lead me astray."
He takes a sip, and the inside lights from the 7/11 catch on the silver of his lip ring, on the curve of his throat as he swallows.
You find yourself staring for a second too long, because fuck—sometimes you forget how pretty he is when he's not being an emotionally constipated asshole.
You laugh, tension somehow bleeding out a bit. "Lead you astray? Please. You're already halfway to hell, and I'm pretty sure you bought a first-class ticket."
The sound that comes out of him is actually a real laugh—not that quiet chuckle he usually does, but something genuine that makes his nose scrunch up.
It's kind of adorable, not that you'd ever tell him that.
The night air shifts into something softer, like a warm summer rain.
"Can't argue with that," he says, and there's this little smirk playing around his lips. "At least I'm upfront about being a piece of shit."
The silence between you isn't awkward anymore. It's nice, actually.
The air smells like rain and city smoke, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails.
Seoul at night—your new normal.
Jeon's looking at the skyline, all those fancy buildings cutting through the darkness.
He takes another drink, and you can't help but notice how relaxed he looks right now. His shoulders aren't carrying all that tension they usually do, like for once he's not expecting an attack from every shadow.
You get it, though. Sometimes you need these moments—these tiny pockets of almost-normal where you can pretend you're just two people sharing a drink instead of what you actually are.
Where the weight of everything you've seen, everything you've done, feels a little lighter.
Maybe that's why you fit together so well, in this weird, fucked-up way.
You both know what it's like to walk in the shadows, to wear masks and play parts.
To find comfort in the darker corners of the world.
God, you think, watching him take another sip. When did this get so complicated?
"Past has a way of being a real bitch, huh?" You murmur.
Jeon's still staring at the skyline when he responds. "Yeah. Can't let it fuck with the present though."
"Look at you, being all wise and shit."
You bump his shoulder with yours, trying to lighten the mood.
Because this? This feels dangerous. Like you're walking on thin ice, and one wrong step could send you both plunging into whatever darkness Jeon's carrying around.
Shadows morph his features when he turns slightly. You catch that little scar on his cheek again, looking deeper in this light, like a secret.
"What's got you thinking so hard?" His voice is quiet, curious. "Usually you're the one telling me to shut up and stop brooding."
Your eyes meet his, and fuck—there's something in that look that makes your chest feel tight.
"Just thinking about how we've all got our own demons to deal with." You take another sip of your drink, buying time. "Some people run from them. Some people let them ride shotgun."
The smirk that crosses his face is different this time—softer around the edges, less guard dog and more human.
"Didn't know you could get philosophical. Should I be worried?"
You laugh, and it feels real for once. Not the fake shit you've been throwing around all night with Fervio and his creepy yellow contacts.
"Fuck off. I contain multitudes."
It's quiet for a few seconds, comfortable until it isn't.
Because there's this annoying thing tinging your interactions with him ever since you asked about Sylvia.
"Hey," you say, keeping your voice gentle. "Whatever ghost you're carrying around? It doesn't define you."
For a second, you think he's going to shut down again, throw up those walls and go back to being Chief Jeon, the untouchable assassin.
You're already turning toward the bike, ready to pretend this conversation never happened.
But then he lets out this breath that sounds like he's been holding it for years, and that makes you look back at him.
His eyes now are less storm and more rain, like maybe he's too tired to keep the hurricane spinning.
"That simple, huh?" His voice is rough around the edges. "Just... let it go?"
You stay perfectly still, like he's some wild animal that might bolt if you move too fast.
Because this feels like the first time ever you've seen him less guarded emotionally.
"Nah," you say carefully. "Not simple at all. But maybe it doesn't have to be this heavy all the time."
The look he gives you then—it's like he's seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you, not just looking through you like he usually does.
Dangerous, you think again.
But maybe that's exactly what you both need.
"Maybe," he says, so quiet you almost miss it. "But when your past is full of fuck-ups and dead bodies, it tends to stick around."
The words hit different—not because of what he's saying, but how he's saying it. As if he's cracking open his chest and showing you something he usually keeps locked down tight.
You move closer before you can stop yourself, drawn in by this rare moment of honesty.
Close enough to see the way his jaw works as he tries to keep his shit together.
Close enough that you can smell pine and mint and leather and cigarette stubs.
"Jungkook." His real name feels heavy on your tongue, important. "The past doesn't have to define you. It's just... part of the story."
You take another step closer, watch how his whole body goes tense, and those dark eyes keep flickering between yours, asking questions he won't voice out loud.
He swallows hard—you watch his throat work—then suddenly jerks his head away like he can't stand to look at you anymore.
"Don't," he says, barely above a whisper, like hurts coming out.
You frown, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
"Don't what?"
He doesn't respond at first, just lets silence fill the void.
When he finally looks back, his eyes are different—harder, distant. Like he's building walls as fast as he can.
"Don't look at me like that," he says, and there's something almost angry in his voice.
"Like what?"
His mouth opens, closes, opens again. The muscle in his jaw jumps.
When he finally speaks, the words come out rough, almost accusatory:
"Like... like I'm something you want to figure out"
Oh, you think. Oh, fuck.
Because maybe you do want to figure him out. Maybe you want to understand him way more than you should.
You're not sure what to say—if there even is anything to say that won't make this worse.
Because Jeon's always been this complicated puzzle of sharp edges and hidden depths, but you're starting to realize it was never about solving him.
Maybe it was just about... seeing him. Really seeing him.
It's almost as if he's scared—not of you, exactly, but of being seen.
Of someone looking past Chief Jeon, the cold-blooded assassin, and finding whatever's left of the person underneath.
You stay perfectly still, barely breathing. It feels like one wrong move could shatter whatever's happening here.
Then something in him just... breaks.
He backs away so fast you almost stumble, his whole body going rigid like he's preparing for a fight.
His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek—that nervous tell you've started to recognize—and when he speaks, his voice is freezing.
"I'm not your fucking project," he snarls. "Not some broken toy you can fix when you're bored."
You flinch, caught off guard by the venom in his voice.
"What? Jungkook, that's not what I—"
"Jeon." He cuts you off, stepping right into your space until you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "Not Jungkook. Not to you."
The correction hits like a slap, like an invisible wall slamming down so fast it leaves you dizzy.
"Jeon," you try again, but he's not done.
"You think I haven't noticed?" His voice drops lower, dangerous. "All your little questions, your fucking looks. Like if you just dig deep enough, you'll find something worth saving."
"I was just trying to—"
He laughs, and it's an ugly sound.
"To what? Understand me? Help me? Save your fucking pity. I see right through you, watching me like I'm some damaged little puppy you can nurse back to health."
The accusation makes something hot and angry flare in your chest.
"That's bullshit and you know it. I've never thought of you as weak."
"No?" His jaw clenches so hard you can see the muscle jump. "Then why are you always trying to get in my head? Acting like you know me, like you have any fucking clue what I've been through?"
He spins away from you, dragging his fingers through his hair like he's trying to tear it out, violent.
When he turns back, his eyes are burning with something that looks too much like fear dressed up as anger.
"What, you think because we fuck sometimes that gives you the right to play therapist?" His voice drops low, dangerous. "A few heart-to-hearts and suddenly you think you've got me all figured out? You don't know shit about me or the things I've done."
"You're right, I don't," you snap back, refusing to back down even though your chest feels tight. "And not because I haven't tried."
His face twists into something ugly. "Yeah, because the last time I let someone in, it ended in fucking bloodshed. One I'm still paying for!"
That makes you swallow, the knot in your chest twisting more tightly.
But Jeon's not done—he's like a shark that's smelled blood in the water.
"I don't need your fucking pity. I'm not some broken little boy for you to fix up and save. I've been handling my shit just fine without your amateur psychology bullshit."
The words sting, but there's something desperate in the way he's throwing them at you—pushing you away before you can get any closer.
"I never said you needed fixing, you absolute—"
"Then what?" He cuts you off, voice sharp as glass. "What exactly did you want? Access to my tragic backstory? Keep your savior complex to yourself. I'm not interested."
"You don't have to be such a dick about it," you say, and fuck—your voice comes out shakier than you meant it to.
"No? Then how about this: there's nothing here for you to see. So drop the fucking act."
"Act?" You actually laugh, but it's not a happy sound. "That's rich coming from you, Mr. Big Bad Wolf. Should I howl at the fucking moon? Maybe then we'd speak the same language."
"That's the problem right there! You trying to speak the same language. There's nothing to try. Nothing to fix. Nothing to understand. So back the fuck off."
"Right. My bad. Sorry for giving a shit, I guess."
"Keep working on it. Maybe one day you'll achieve perfect emotional constipation like the rest of us."
The sarcasm in his voice makes you want to scream. Or cry. Or maybe both.
When you don't immediately snap back, he makes this sound in the back of his throat—this ugly, disgusted sound.
"Fuck this. We're done here."
He turns to leave, but something makes you reach out, fingers wrapping around his arm before you can think better of it.
The muscle under your hand goes rock hard, and when he looks down at where you're touching him, his eyes are cold enough to freeze hell.
You let go like he's burning you, but you plant your feet. You're not backing down, not this time.
"Look," you say, keeping your voice soft but firm. "I get it, okay? Opening up is scary as shit. But it doesn't make you weak, Jeon. Might even help, whenever you're ready."
He stares at you, and for a second—just a second—something cracks in his expression. Like maybe he's tired of carrying whatever weight is crushing him. But then the walls slam back up so fast it gives you whiplash.
"Then you can sit there and wait until you fucking rot," he says, voice colder than a morgue drawer.
He jerks away from you, spinning toward the bike with the kind of finality that screams conversation over.
You stand there, anger and frustration mixing in your chest until you feel like you might explode.
"Bold of you to assume I've got that kind of patience," you throw at his back.
He freezes mid-step, and you see his shoulders tense.
When he speaks, his voice is completely flat, like all the life's been drained out of it.
"Even better."
Then he's swinging his leg over the bike, waiting for you to climb on so he can pretend this whole thing never happened.
Like he can outrun his demons if he just drives fast enough.
Stubborn asshole, you think, walking toward the bike.
But you're starting to realize that maybe his walls aren't just for show.
Maybe they're holding back something that terrifies him more than any enemy ever could.
You swing off the bike on slightly shaky legs, yanking the helmet off and trying to get your hair under control.
Jeon's doing that thing where he runs his fingers through his hair, making it look effortlessly messy and hot at the same time, which is annoying when you're trying to stay p̶i̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ professional.
His face is blank, but you can read the tension in his shoulders. You get it—going against direct orders to play nice with MDF's resident psychopath probably wasn't your brightest moment. Not to mention that whole clusterfuck of a conversation outside the 7/11.
"Time to get our asses handed to us," he mutters, and his jaw is clenched so tight you're worried he might crack a tooth.
You follow him inside, each step echoing off stone walls like a countdown to execution.
The walk to the council room feels longer than usual, probably because your stomach's doing gymnastics while Jeon walks ahead like he's heading to his own funeral.
The council room hits you with a brightness that makes you squint. All nine chiefs are already there, seated around that stupidly long table like some corporate board meeting from hell. They turn to look at you both, and you brace yourself for the shitstorm.
But then—what the fuck?
The room explodes with cheers and applause.
You actually take a step back, wondering if you've somehow walked into an alternate dimension. Beside you, Jeon goes completely still, like someone hit his pause button.
The Council is losing their collective mind. J-Hope's whistling like he's at a concert, V's cackling like a hyena, and even RM's got this smile on his face that makes him look ten years younger.
What timeline is this?
"Brilliant work!" RM's voice cuts through the chaos, and you're pretty sure your jaw's on the floor. "You've exceeded all expectations."
You look at Jeon, completely lost. "What the—?"
And then it hits you—the earpieces weren't just for show—the Council heard everything.
Every word with Fervio, they watched you dance with the devil and somehow come out on top.
"A partnership with MDF as independent traders?" Moon sounds like someone just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "That changes things."
You're still trying to process how you went from expecting a punishment to... this.
But one look at Jeon tells you he's just as thrown as you are. His eyes are slightly wider than usual, which for him is basically the equivalent of screaming in confusion.
Well, this is definitely not how you expected this night to end.
The rest of the Council starts talking over each other, throwing around words like "brilliant" and "game-changing."
You feel your face heat up—partly from pride, partly because this is not the ass-kicking you were expecting. Next to you, Jeon's got that look on his face, the one that says he's about three seconds from calling bullshit on this whole situation.
"What the fuck?" he growls.
There it is.
"We literally did exactly what you told us not to do."
The room quiets down as RM raises his hand, and even through the chaos, everyone snaps to attention. That's the kind of respect he commands.
"Yeah, you went against orders," he says, and his voice has that careful neutral tone that could go either way. "But you also just handed us the biggest opportunity we've had in years. Sometimes disobedience pays off."
The Council members nod like those bobblehead dolls people put in their cars.
Jeon's eyebrow does that tiny twitch thing it does when he's really f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ pissed.
"This could be huge for us." J-Hope's voice is serious, none of his usual snark. "But one wrong move and we're all fucked six ways to Sunday."
Flower leans forward, her dark eyes sharp. "Especially with that psycho Fervio involved. He's probably just waiting for us to slip up."
RM's got that look on his face, the one that means his big brain is working overtime. "It's a risk, sure. But it's one we need to take. And we'll need our best people on this."
The silence that follows feels like it weighs a ton.
Everyone's thinking the same thing—this could either be Kkangpae's biggest win or its worst nightmare.
"The cover story worked perfectly," RM continues, and you can practically feel Jeon's shoulders tensing up beside you. "Fervio bought the whole illegal arms dealers slash married couple act. We can use that."
Jeon exhales loudly; eyes darkening a shade. His face stays blank, but you know him well enough by now to see the storm brewing behind those dark eyes.
"I want you both to keep playing these roles," RM says, leaning forward in his chair. "The power-hungry married couple looking to make it big in the underworld. It's perfect."
Your brain short-circuits for a second because what? This means more pretending to be married to Jeon. More acting like a couple. More of...
"With Fervio thinking you're on his side, we'll finally get inside MDF." RM continues. "This is the break we've been waiting for."
He looks between you and Jeon, and his expression turns serious.
"Can you handle it?"
"Yeah, of course," is your reply.
RM catches Jeon's tension—of course he does, he doesn't miss anything. His voice softens just a fraction.
"I know what I'm asking, Jeon. Especially from you." He trails off for a second, like he's choosing his next words carefully. "We can't change what happened before. But this? This is bigger than personal history."
There's something heavy in those words, something that makes your ears prick up.
Is this about Sylvia? That name you caught over the comms, the one that made Jeon shut down faster than a computer during a power surge?
You want to ask—god, you want to ask so badly it hurts. But after that disaster outside the 7/11? Yeah, not happening.
Some secrets in Kkangpae are meant to stay buried. You're learning that the hard way.
Jeon just nods, short and sharp. "Understood."
"Good." RM's voice has that final tone that means orders are being given. "You'll be our inside track to Fervio's operation. Get close, find weaknesses, but don't take stupid risks."
The Council members nod along, looking all serious and determined. Everyone knows this is huge—dangerous as fuck, but huge.
The meeting breaks up, and reality starts sinking in. You're really doing this. Playing happy married couple with Jeon while trying not to get murdered by a psychopath who gets off on torture.
Cool. Cool cool cool.
You glance at Jeon, trying to read his expression. But those dark eyes might as well be black holes for all they give away.
You can't decipher what he's thinking. At all. But he's not happy about it, whatever it is.
Then he just... nods at RM and walks out. No goodbye, no look back, nothing. Just turns on his heel and disappears through the door like he can't get away fast enough.
You watch Jeon storm out like he's got hellhounds on his heels. Something about it makes your chest feel tight. J-Hope must notice you staring because he leans in, voice pitched low so only you can hear.
"Don't take it personal, kid. Jeon's got... history with this kind of thing."
You turn to him, frowning. "What, following orders? Or not following them?"
"More like..." J-Hope pauses, and you can practically see him picking his words like he's defusing a bomb. "Let's just say he's not a fan of the Council being flexible with rules."
Your frown deepens. There's something here you're missing, some context that would make this all make sense.
"Because he's a stickler for protocol?"
"Because the Council doesn't do flexible." J-Hope says the word like it tastes bad. "Never has."
He glances at the door Jeon disappeared through, something dark crossing his face.
"Rules exist for a reason. And when they get bent or broken... well. Let's just say Jeon knows firsthand what that costs."
You let that sink in for a moment, turning it over in your head.
"This is about Sylvia, isn't it?"
The name drops between you like a stone in still water.
J-Hope goes completely still, and for a second, you see something flash across his face—pain? Anger? But then it's gone.
"Sylvia," he says, like he's testing how the name feels in his mouth. Then he shakes his head. "That's not my story to tell. If Jeon wants you to know about that particular clusterfuck, he'll tell you himself."
Gentleness finds his eyes then, looking as if he feels bad for you, stumbling around in the dark while everyone else seems to know where all the landmines are buried.
"Just... give him time, Jeon's got his reasons for being the way he is. And pushing him to talk about it?" He lets out a low whistle. "That's a real good way to make sure he never does."
You chew on your bottom lip, processing.
It's obvious there's more going on here—some whole tragic backstory (funny how he mentioned those two exact words) you're not cleared to know about.
"Yeah, okay," you say finally. "Everyone's got their demons, right? He can keep his locked up if he wants."
J-Hope's smile is small but genuine. He squeezes your shoulder, and his touch is surprisingly gentle for someone who patches up gunshot wounds for a living.
"Smart girl. And hey—Jeon might act like he's made of ice, but..." He trails off, thoughtful. "Let's just say I've seen him care about things before. Even when he probably wishes he didn't."
Great, you think. More cryptic bullshit.
But maybe that's just how things work around here. Maybe some secrets need to stay buried until they're ready to come out on their own.
You just hope you're still around when they do.
You give J-Hope a grateful smile, making a mental note to back off with the Sylvia questions.
Some wounds need time to heal, and pushing Jeon before he's ready would just make him shut down harder.
For now, maybe it's better to focus on what you do have—even if that's just really good sex.
Your philosophical moment gets interrupted by V's voice, bright and chaotic as ever.
"Well, I think this calls for drugs and alcohol!" He sounds way too excited about potentially getting everyone high.
J-Hope's head whips around so fast you're worried he might need to treat himself for whiplash.
"Absolutely fucking not!" His voice goes full doctor-mode stern. "Or did you all collectively forget the shitshow that happened last time?"
V just grins that manic grin of his, the one that usually means trouble's coming. "Aw, come on, Doc! We're all grown-ups here. What's the worst that could happen?"
(You make a mental note to never ask that question in a gang full of assassins.)
"Fuck them drugs," AD perks up from his corner, actually looking interested in something that isn't computers for once. "I'm rolling a joint and zoning out in my corner."
"Dibs on the good stuff!" Jessi's practically bouncing in her seat. "It's been forever since I got properly fucked up. Let's make it a party!"
Flower leans forward. "Anyone got acid? Because I've been wanting to try that."
JM's watching all this go down with that calm lake energy of his, looking way too amused.
"Face it, Doc. You're fighting a losing battle here."
"You too, Jimin?" J-Hope looks personally offended. "I'm the medical professional here. You know, the one who has to deal with your dumb asses when things go wrong?"
Moon just sits there with his usual zen master vibe, like he's watching children argue about candy.
"Perhaps we can find a middle ground that doesn't end in medical emergencies?"
"Moon's got a point," RM says, and you can practically see him calculating the odds of this turning into a disaster. "There's probably a way to do this that doesn't involve J-Hope having an aneurysm."
You lean back, watching chaos unfold in real time.
Because apparently this is your life now—sitting in a high-tech castle while a bunch of deadly assassins argue about getting high like college students planning spring break.
What even is your life?
J-Hope throws his hands up like he's trying to physically catch his last shred of sanity.
"There's no middle ground with you hooligans!" His voice hits that pitch that means someone's about to get a medical lecture. "Last fucking time Hyunjoo nearly turned our whole operation into a bonfire because she thought her instant ramen needed to be cooked with actual fire!"
Jessi's trying (and failing) to hold back her laughter, which only makes J-Hope more agitated.
"And you—" He whirls on AD, who's slouching in his chair looking done with life. "Two days! You disappeared for two whole days!"
"I was finding peace with nature," he mutters, checking his nails. "Weed is enlightening."
"The only thing enlightening was how many bug bites you got on your ass, you absolute disaster."
J-Hope's not done though—oh no, he's just getting started.
"And let's not forget Tae's brilliant fucking idea to invite the cops over for a party." J-Hope's voice drips sarcasm. "All because he wanted to, and I quote, 'party with the law'."
V sprawls in his chair, looking delighted by the memory. "Come on, Doc. Live a little! What's the point of being criminals if we can't have some fun with it?"
You watch J-Hope's soul leave his body in real time. His shoulders slump, and he lets out this long-suffering sigh that probably took years off his life.
"Fine. Fine. You win, you bunch of walking medical emergencies." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "But when you're all hugging toilets tomorrow and crying about how you can see through time, don't come running to me!"
The look on his face says he knows exactly where he'll be tomorrow—patching up whatever chaos this lot manages to create while high off their asses.
But that's tomorrow's problem. Tonight? Tonight's about to get real interesting.
Well, at least being in a gang is never boring.
"Ramen's on the stove!" Jessi's voice bounces off the castle walls like a rubber ball on crack. "No naked forest adventures this time, Doc, I promise!"
The castle's kitchen usually looks like something out of a luxury real estate listing. But right now? It's more like a college party gone wild, if college parties were thrown by professional killers.
You're posted up against one of those fancy counters, watching chaos unfold with a mix of amusement and holy shit, are we really doing this?
The prospect of trying acid for the first time is making your stomach do this weird flippy thing—half excitement, half terror. Mostly terror. But hey, when in Rome (or in this case, when in a high-tech castle full of assassins planning to get absolutely blasted)...
J-Hope sidles up next to you, and his sandalwood scent cuts through the MSG-heavy air. His face says 'I'm so done with this shit' but his eyes are doing that thing where he's trying not to look amused.
"Look at these fucking morons," he mutters, watching Jessi wave a wooden spoon around like she's conducting an orchestra. "It's like babysitting toddlers. Toddlers with access to weapons and illegal substances."
You bump his shoulder with yours. "Aw, come on. Don't act like you don't love playing mom friend to this disaster crew."
He gives you this look that's half exasperation, half fondness. "The entertainment value? Sure. The aftermath? Not so much."
His eyes track Jessi as she does some kind of interpretive dance with the ramen pot.
"Last time, I spent a week dealing with the fallout. Do you know how hard it is to treat someone who's convinced their fingers turned into snakes? Because I do. I really, really do."
You can't help but laugh because yeah, that tracks.
"But look at everyone," you say, gesturing at the room full of deadly assassins acting like actual human beings for once. "When's the last time you saw the divisions mixing like this? Usually everyone's too busy being dramatic and mysterious."
J-Hope lets out this long-suffering sigh that probably took years off his life. "Yeah, yeah. Just... try not to lose your mind completely on the acid, okay? I really don't want to explain to RM why one of our newest recruits is trying to have a philosophical debate with the security cameras."
"Please," you scoff, even though your heart does a little jump at the thought. "I'll be fine. Just curious to see what all the fuss is about."
"That's what Tae said," J-Hope deadpans. "Right before he decided the trees needed a strip show."
You lean against the counter, watching the chaos unfold around you.
It's kind of wild how a bunch of professional killers can act like college kids at a frat party. But that's Kkangpae for you—one minute you're infiltrating rival gang territory, the next you're watching Jessi try to juggle instant ramen packets.
J-Hope's steady presence beside you feels grounding through the general mayhem. Even when he's complaining about having to babysit a bunch of 'walking medical emergencies,' you can hear the fondness in his voice.
He's such a mom friend, not that you'd ever tell him that to his face.
Having J-Hope here, with his medical knowledge and surprisingly good dad jokes, makes the idea of trying acid feel less intimidating.
At least someone will know what to do if you start seeing dragons or whatever.
Then V materializes like he's been summoned by the promise of bad decisions, carrying a tray of shots that probably contain enough alcohol to strip paint. His grin is all teeth and trouble as he slides up to you both.
"Special delivery," he practically purrs, pushing a shot glass your way. The liquid inside looks radioactive. "A little something to kick-start your journey to enlightenment."
J-Hope's hand shoots out faster than you can blink, blocking the shot like he's defending a goal.
"Absolutely fucking not. Mixing alcohol with psychedelics? That's a one-way ticket to the worst night of your life."
"Aw, come on, Doc." V's eyes glitter with that dangerous playfulness he gets sometimes. "Let the girl live a little. It's just one tiny shot."
You watch J-Hope's face do this thing where he's trying really hard not to lose his patience. His jaw tightens, but his voice stays professional.
"This isn't about living. It's about not ending up in medical because someone thought mixing drugs was a good idea."
V leans in, and suddenly the air feels thick with tension. "When did you get so boring, Hoseok? Used to be you knew how to have fun."
The use of J-Hope's real name makes his whole body go rigid, and something dark flashes across his face.
Welp, this is about to get real uncomfortable.
"This isn't about being scared," J-Hope says, and his voice has that edge he gets when someone's pushing his buttons. "It's about not wanting to spend my night pumping stomachs because you idiots can't make good choices."
V's smile turns sharp, thorny vines of his aura creeping into the air between them. "Or maybe you're just projecting your own issues onto everyone else, our pride and hope."
Oh shit.
The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees.
You watch J-Hope's hands curl into fists, sandalwood notes in the air turning bitter.
"That's enough." J-Hope's voice could freeze hell. "This isn't about me. It's about keeping people alive."
"Alive? From what?" V's laugh has too many teeth. "The big bad vodka monster?"
"It's not about the fucking vodka, Taehyung—"
"I mean, I get it—"
"—for fuck's sake, she's not—"
"—vodka's Russian and all but—"
"—it's not about the goddamn—"
"—Putin ain't gonna jump out the bottle—"
The overlapping voices make your head spin, but then—holy shit.
J-Hope snatches the shot right out of V's hand and downs it like it's water. The room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
V actually shuts up for once, thorns retreating like he's been slapped. Everyone's staring, probably thinking the same thing you are: What the actual fuck just happened?
The empty glass hits the counter with a clink that sounds like a gunshot in the silence.
"There," J-Hope says, voice empty. "Problem solved."
Then he just... walks away. Like he didn't just do something that has everyone's jaws on the floor.
V blinks like his brain's still buffering, but because he's V, he bounces back in seconds. That million-watt smile slides back into place like it never left.
"Well, fuck me sideways," he says, turning back to you with a laugh. "Looks like the good doctor's still got some surprises up his sleeve."
Thorns wrap around the room again, playful and dangerous.
"Now, about that acid trip you're planning. Just remember—if you need a spirit guide through the gates of perception, I'm your man."
He throws you a wink and floats off to terrorize someone else with his tray of shots, leaving you to wonder what the hell kind of drama you just witnessed.
Note to self, you think, watching J-Hope's figure make it out the doors. Never mention vodka around those two.
AD materializes then like some tech gremlin summoned from his cave, clutching a bag of weed and another one of acid.
He does that thing where he pretends not to care about anything or anyone, scanning the room with his typical 'everyone here is an idiot' expression.
"Well, if it isn't our favorite antisocial hacker," you say, watching him do his best impression of someone who definitely isn't looking for a specific person.
His face scrunches up like he's tasted something sour.
"Where's the walking medical textbook?" he asks, and you can hear the eye roll in his voice even though his face stays neutral.
Classic AD—pretending he's not worried about J-Hope's whereabouts.
"You mean J-Hope?"
"No, I mean the other mother hen who follows me around telling me to eat vegetables. Yes, J-Hope."
He starts unpacking his little bag of happiness onto the counter, then grabs a rolling paper with two fingers—gentle, like he's holding a butterfly wing—and brings it up to his lips.
"Lucy for the newbie," he mutters, holding up the other tiny plastic bag between his fingers like it's a USB drive containing nuclear codes.
"He left," you say, taking the bag and examining it because apparently that's what you do with illegal drugs now.
Your life is weird.
AD's eyebrow shoots up in that way that says 'elaborate before I hack your phone and set all your alarms to 3 AM.'
"V was being V, trying to get me to drink before dropping acid. J-Hope wasn't having it."
"What, did he storm off to avoid watching his precious patient make bad decisions?" AD snickers, but there's something almost fond in his voice. "He gets pretty pissy about alco—"
"Actually," you cut him off, matching his grin "he grabbed the shot, downed it like a champ, and bounced. Total power move."
The change in AD's face is like watching someone hit ctrl+alt+delete on his entire personality.
The smirk drops so fast it probably left skid marks.
"He did what?"
"Yeah, just... knocked it back and walked out. Pretty badass, if you ask—"
"What was in the glass?" His voice goes sharp, all traces of amusement gone.
"What?"
"The fucking shot, what was in it?" There's something urgent in his tone that makes your stomach drop.
"I don't know, V said something about vodka—"
"Fuck." AD drags his fingers through his hair like he's trying to pull it out. "Fuck fuck fuck."
"What's wrong with—"
"Where's V?" he snarls, and holy shit, you've never heard him sound like that before.
You can't help but inwardly panic as AD's face cycles through about fifteen different shades of murder.
AD's eyes lock onto V like a heat-seeking missile, and suddenly he's moving with the kind of purpose that usually ends in bloodshed. You watch him shove V hard enough to make the chestnut-haired man stumble back into Moon's drink setup, glasses rattling dangerously.
"What the actual fuck?" V catches himself, bristling with barely contained rage.
"You gave him vodka?" AD's voice is deadly quiet. The kind of quiet that comes before violence. "You fucking knew—"
"He took it himself!" V straightens up, getting right in AD's face, smile cruel. "Not my problem if your precious doctor can't handle his shit."
"I'm going to rearrange your fucking face—" AD's hands curl into fists.
"Try it, you basement-dwelling freak. Maybe if you spent less time obsessing over Hobi's sobriety and more time getting over your pathetic crush—"
You move before your brain can catch up with what a monumentally stupid idea this is.
Getting between two Chiefs when they're about to throw down? Definitely not in the Kkangpae employee handbook.
But guilt's churning in your stomach because you were there.
You watched J-Hope take that shot and did nothing.
"AD," you say, keeping your voice soft but firm. Everyone's staring at you like you've lost your mind, and maybe you have. "This isn't helping. We need to find J-Hope."
AD's practically vibrating with rage, and V's thorny aura is sharp enough to draw blood. But finally, finally, AD takes a step back.
"Fucking narcissistic asshole," he spits at V as he turns away. "Too busy jerking off your own ego to give a shit about anyone else."
V's laugh follows you down the hallway, high and unhinged. "Aw, don't be like that, Yoongi! I thought we were having fun!"
You follow AD, his muttered curses painting the air blue.
After that disaster with Jeon earlier, you're not sure you should push for answers. But worry's gnawing at your gut.
"Is he going to be okay?"
AD lets out this heavy sigh that sounds like it starts in his toes. His eyes keep scanning every corner, every shadow.
"I don't... fuck. He..." He drags his fingers through his hair, messing up the blonde strands. "Hobi's got history with alcohol, alright? Bad history. He's been clean for... Christ, I don't even know how many years."
Shit.
You watch AD practically vibrate with nervous energy as he searches, and suddenly his reaction makes a lot more sense.
"We'll find him," you say, and you mean it.
Because maybe you can't fix whatever's going on with Jeon (and it's not your job anyway), but this?
This you can help with.
AD nods sharply, his face set in grim determination. "Yeah. We fucking better."
You and AD split up to search the castle, which is exactly as fun as it sounds—like playing hide and seek in a maze designed by someone with a sick sense of humor.
But you keep going because it's J-Hope. The guy who patches everyone up without judgment, who keeps this chaotic family of killers alive despite their best efforts to the contrary.
He deserves someone in his corner for once.
The party noise fades as you climb higher in the castle, until all you can hear is your own footsteps echoing off stone walls.
It's weird seeing these halls so empty—usually there's at least a few people around, heading to missions or sneaking off for... whatever.
Then you turn a corner and your heart does this weird flip thing when you see J-Hope's there, crumpled against a column like someone cut his strings. His knees are pulled up to his chest, head down, and fuck—seeing him like this feels wrong. Like walking in on something you weren't meant to see.
The empty glass beside him makes your stomach twist.
"J-Hope?"
He lifts his head so slowly it hurts to watch. His eyes meet yours, and that's worse somehow. All that warmth and steadiness that makes him J-Hope is just... gone.
"Hey," he says, voice barely above a whisper.
"Hey yourself." You drop down next to him, trying to keep your voice gentle. "How're you holding up?"
"Just fantastic." His laugh is hollow, and the smile he gives you is about as real as the designer bags they sell in back alleys.
You bite your lip, wanting to help but not sure how. Your hand finds his shoulder, trying to say without words that he's not alone in whatever this is.
"What you did back there, protecting me from that shot? You didn't have to. But... thanks. For caring. You're good at that, you know? The caring part."
He looks at you for a long moment before his head drops again, but this time his smile seems a little more genuine. A little less broken.
"AD told you about the alcohol thing, didn't he?"
You tense up, your hand going still on his shoulder. Shit. You don't want him thinking AD was gossiping about his personal shit, but—
"It's fucking stupid," he says before you can explain, and his voice is so soft it makes your heart hurt. "Everyone here's got blood on their hands, trauma up to their eyeballs, and I'm falling apart over some fucking vodka."
Your grip on his shoulder tightens. "Hey, no. Pain isn't a competition. Your demons aren't any less valid just because they come in a bottle instead of a bullet."
J-Hope stares at his thighs like they hold all the answers to the universe, keeping quiet for a few seconds like he needs it. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough around the edges.
"Seven years," he says, like he's counting each one in his head. "Seven fucking years without touching a drop. Made that promise to myself when I joined Kkangpae. Thought I'd take it to my grave."
His eyes are different now—missing that sharp focus that usually makes him look like he's scanning for injuries. Instead, they're glossy with tears he won't let fall. The sandalwood scent in the air is muted, dulled.
"Used to be a doctor, you know? A good one. Fucking naive though." He lets out this hollow laugh that makes your chest hurt. "Thought I could change things from the inside. Make a difference in that corrupt shitshow they call healthcare."
You stay quiet, letting him get it out. Sometimes silence says more than words.
"You can't—" His voice catches. "You have no idea what it's like in there. The fucking politics of who lives and who dies. Had this kid once, sweet little thing. Needed emergency surgery. But some rich asshole's cousin needed a cosmetic procedure, and guess who got the operating room?"
Your stomach turns as the implications hit. J-Hope's face twists like he's tasting something bitter.
"I watched that kid die. Right there on my table. And you know what the hospital director said? 'These things happen.' Like it was a fucking paperwork error." His hands are shaking now. "That wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was how normal it was. People dying because they couldn't pay, while others bought their way to the front of the line."
He takes this shuddering breath that sounds like it hurts.
"Started drinking to numb it. Just a little at first—a shot before bed, something to take the edge off. But that's how it gets you, right? One shot becomes two, becomes a bottle, becomes..." He gestures vaguely at himself. "Becomes this."
"You were an alcoholic?" The words come out soft, careful.
"Yeah." It's barely a whisper. "Lost everything. My job, my license, my apartment. Ended up sleeping under bridges, spending whatever I could beg or steal on cheap vodka. Real fucking inspirational story, right?"
When he looks at you, the raw pain in his eyes makes your heart squeeze.
"Then RM found me. Saw something worth saving in this drunk piece of shit passed out behind a dumpster. Gave me purpose again. A chance to help people without all the bureaucratic bullshit."
He picks up the empty shot glass, turning it in his hands like it might bite him.
"That's why I swore off drinking. Not just for me—for RM, for everyone here who gave me a second chance when I didn't deserve one."
You watch him struggle with words, with memories, with demons you can't see but can feel in the heaviness of his words.
"Found a family here. Got to be a doctor again, on my own terms. Started putting myself back together." His fingers tighten around the glass. "But tonight, one fucking shot and—"
"You did it to protect me," you cut in, because you can't stand the self-loathing in his voice. "That counts for something."
His smile is sad, tired.
"Maybe. But that's not..." He shakes his head. "I can't go back there. Can't be that person again. The one who couldn't save anyone, not even himself."
The confession sits between you as you watch J-Hope—this man who patches up assassins and keeps everyone's secrets—look more vulnerable than you've ever seen him.
Fuck. No wonder he's so protective of everyone.
You squeeze his shoulder, trying to put everything you're feeling into that touch.
"You're not that person anymore, Doc. Look at you—patching up assassins, keeping us all alive, being everyone's voice of reason. One shot doesn't erase seven years of being fucking incredible."
His smile is small but real this time.
"Thanks, kid. I..." He swallows hard. "I needed that."
You bump his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, well, even newbies gotta remind you you're not just the grumpy doctor who yells at us for getting stabbed."
He actually chuckles at that, a quiet sound that makes his whole body shake.
"Newbie? You've been here four months. Pretty sure you've seen more action than some of our veterans."
"Maybe," you say with a grin. "But I still can't tell the difference between morphine and saline, so I think that keeps me firmly in the rookie category."
That gets a real laugh out of him, and some of the tension finally leaves his shoulders. He looks at you, and there's something warm in his eyes that wasn't there before.
"You know what? Screw the formalities. Call me Hoseok. Or Hobi, if you're feeling lazy."
Your eyebrows shoot up. "Wow, first-name basis? I feel so special."
"Don't let it go to your head," he says, but he's smiling now. "I just figure anyone who's seen me have an emotional breakdown in a hallway has earned it."
"Hoseok it is, then." You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling weirdly comfortable despite the cold stone floor and the lingering heaviness in the air. "Though I might go with Hobs. It suits you better."
"Hobs?" He doesn't shrug you off, which feels like a win. "I can live with that."
You sit there in comfortable silence for a while, just existing in the same space.
It hits you then, how human everyone in Kkangpae is.
Sure, you're all part of this big, scary criminal organization, but underneath all the tough talk and violence, you're just... people.
People with pasts, with regrets, with demons you're all trying to outrun.
"Hey, Hobs?" you say after a bit.
"Mm?"
"Thanks for trusting me with this. I know it's not easy to let people see the messy parts."
He's quiet for a moment, then his hand finds yours, giving it a quick squeeze.
"Thanks for giving a shit, kid. It's... it's been a while since someone did."
You're about to say something else when footsteps echo down the hallway. AD appears around the corner, looking like he's aged ten years in the last hour.
When he spots you both, the relief on his face is so obvious it almost hurts.
"You absolute fucking idiot," AD says, dropping to his knees beside you both. His voice is rough but his hands are gentle when they reach for Hobi. "Do you have any idea—I thought—fuck."
"Sorry," Hobi mumbles, and he sounds exhausted. "Didn't mean to worry you."
"Shut up." AD's already pulling one of Hobi's arms over his shoulders. "Just... let's get you to bed before you fall asleep in this hallway like some drunk college kid."
You help AD get Hobi to his feet, each of you taking some of his weight.
The party's still going strong somewhere below, but up here, it's just the three of you navigating dark corridors, trying to keep each other from falling apart.
Family. This is what family looks like.

The walk back to J-Hope's room feels longer than it should, like the hallways are stretching out just to fuck with you.
His words keep echoing in your head—all that stuff about hospitals and corruption and losing everything.
It's weird seeing someone you thought had their shit together turn out to be just as messy as the rest of you.
When you finally reach his door, AD does this thing where he opens it super carefully, like he's afraid of waking up a sleeping baby or something.
You both help J-Hope inside, and damn—his room is exactly what you'd expect from the guy who patches up assassins for a living.
It's all neat and tidy, medical books stacked up like little towers of knowledge. There are plants everywhere too, which is kind of adorable. You can just picture J-Hope fussing over them between stitching up bullet wounds and lecturing people about their alcohol intake.
J-Hope practically collapses onto his bed, letting out this sigh that sounds like it's been building up for years. When he looks at you both, his eyes are all soft and grateful. It makes your chest do this weird tight thing.
"Thanks, guys," he says, and his voice sounds steadier now—like maybe getting all that shit off his chest actually helped.
"Don't get sappy on us," AD grumbles, but you can tell he's worried because his usual grumpy cat routine is dialed down to about a three. "Just get some rest, alright? Can't have our medic falling apart on us."
J-Hope actually laughs at that, even if it's a weak sound. "I'll be fine. Just a little hiccup in the sobriety journey. Won't happen again."
AD nods like he believes him, but you can see the doubt in his eyes. He turns to you, all serious business now.
"Thanks for the assist. I've got it from here."
You nod, feeling weirdly relieved that J-Hope's not gonna be alone.
"Yeah, of course. Take care of our favorite doctor, yeah?"
J-Hope gives you this smile that makes him look younger somehow. He mouths 'thank you' as you head for the door, and for a second, you consider staying.
But nah. AD's got this.
And you? You've got a lot to process.
You start walking back towards your own room, mind still spinning.
Because if J-Hope—steady, dependable J-Hope—has skeletons in his closet, what the hell is everyone else hiding?
Fuck. You realize you're in way deeper than you thought. But the weird thing is?
You're not sure you want out.

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ateez soft hours pt. 2
how they would treat you while you're on your period




maknae line
warning: mdni, period sex, smut
word count: 3.4k
ao3 link: maknae line
author's note: I uh. yeah.
choi san: "What's up, babe?" He sounds out of breath over the phone, "I'm finishing up at the gym."
"Everything hurts and I want to die." You whine.
"Oh, no, my poor baby! Do I need to bring you any supplies on my way over?" His voice was sweet, always so attentive. You felt lucky every day that he grew up with an older sister.
"No, I'm okay with all that, but thank you. I just want you to come lay on top of me with your entire body weight."
"Anything you want, honey. You know you could come join me at the gym, exercise helps relieve cramps, allegedly." He was mainly joking.
You groaned, "Ugh, Choi San stop talking about exercise right now or I'm going to turn homicidal. You know any other day I would have gone with you."
He laughed at your dramatics, "I know, precious. I just had to tease, I'm sorry. I'll be sweet the rest of the night, promise."
"I mean if you really want me to break a sweat, I have some ideas for cardio we could do later." Heat curls in your aching abdomen at the thought of it. Glad your boyfriend has never been squeamish about period sex.
"Oh?" He asked, you were silent until the implication hit him, "Ohhhh. Well, yes, of course." His voice lowered so he couldn't be heard by anyone around him, "You know I'll take care of you, baby. Make you feel so good. No touching yourself until I get there, okay?"
Your thighs clenched together at his words, "Okay, yes, I'll be good." Your voice was breathy, already laced with lust.
"Mmh, good girl. Already getting all bothered for me, aren't you? I'll see you soon, honey." He didn't give you a chance to reply before the line went dead.
San was so good at picking up on your cues, happy to take the lead or to follow, depending on your mood. You liked him any way you could get him but your favorite was when he gently took the reins, giving you soft but stern instructions and showering you with praise all night, talking you through every orgasm. The thought of it made it hard for you to keep the promise you had just made to him.
You decided to shower instead, waiting for him to come home, feeling a little yucky after being in bed all day.
By the time you emerged in nothing but a towel, San was already there.
"Hi, gorgeous." He enveloped you in a big hug. He had showered at the gym, it seemed, hair still damp, cheeks rosy, comfy in a t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Sannie." You sighed into his chest.
He pulled back and trailed his hands down your arms, "Look at you, all clean just for me?"
You nod, looking down, feeling shy and exposed. Hormones, probably.
He pulled the towel open to look at you, "Oh, honey. I'll never get over how stunning you are." He pulled the towel all the way off, tossing it over the still-open bathroom door, reaching for you again, hands warm as they fell to your slightly boated tummy. He always made you feel so beautiful even when you felt like a hot pile of dog shit. "I brought something." He kissed your forehead then went to his backpack, pulling out a bottle of massage oil, "Thought this might be nice. I know your body is achey. Does a massage sound nice?"
"It sounds incredible." You smile at him, tears in your eyes, feeling especially grateful for him in that moment.
"Come on then, jagi." He leads you to your bedroom, grabbing a new towel on his way, to keep the massage oil - and whatever other potential bodily fluids - off of your bedding.
He has you on your stomach, deft hands turning you to putty at their touch, paying special attention to your lower back, where he knows carries extra tension. You're nearly in a trance when he wipes one hand on the towel, still kneading one ass cheek with his other hand, evidently able to tell what the massage was doing to you, your core becoming wet with arousal. He removed his other hand and you hear a squirting noise. When his hand returns, you realize the noise had been him applying lube to his fingers, which were now teasing your already slick slit, up and down, movements slow. Your legs parted further on instinct.
"Yes, baby, that's it. This is what you wanted, hm? Don't worry, I'm going to make you feel good." San’s voice was low and you felt yourself grind back into his fingers at it. "Patience, love." He chuckled, "We have all the time in the world."
His fingers found your clit, applying pressure to either side of it, before finally brushing over the top, just briefly before they slid down your folds once again, his other hand spreading your ass cheek as he held his fingers to your entrance. He didn't have to apply much pressure at all, you were so turned on that your cunt sucked him in greedily. He thrust them in and out a few times before curling them forward, hitting your sweet spot. Your back arched at the sensation and you could tell he was smiling behind you, "Mmh, so responsive, jagiya. I could do this for hours."
And you believe him, too. He sets a pace but slows down when you try to fuck yourself back onto his fingers, "No, no, sweetheart. Let me bring you there. I want you as relaxed as you were when I was massaging you, okay?"
"Yes, sir." You manage, face squished by the mattress, brain floating towards another planet already.
"Good girl." He says, fingers returning to continue their ministrations.
At some point, his thumb finds your tight ring of muscle, taunting him as it sat there within reach right above your now absolutely quivering cunt, circling it and adding just a little pressure. A gasp leaves your mouth at the sensation, surprised at how much you like it. "Mmh, so sensitive. You like this don't you?" You were so wet, every nerve alight at his touch, seconds from falling apart, holding on because you knew he would want to tell you when to let go. "You've been so good for me, angel, why don't you go ahead and come? On my fingers like a good girl."
Your body obeyed immediately, pleasure rolling through you. You thought your orgasm might never end, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. "There we go baby, just like that. God, you're stunning." You were still clenching when he removed his fingers, just long enough to strip off his boxers and tank top, climbing back up and guiding the tip of his cock to your absolutely drenched core, letting you suck him in, inch by inch. The way he filled you had you immediately working up to your second peak, "Christ, honey, you're so wet. So. Fucking. Tight." He punctuated his words with the snap of his hips as your walls clenched around him again and again.
"Sannie-" You cried out in pleasure.
"I know, kitten, I'm right here with you." He purred. By the time you're worked up to your third release, he's cumming in perfect time with you, cock quivering as he pumped you full. "Oh my god, yes, fuck." He cried out. "You were made to take me, weren't you, baby? So fucking good for me." He praised you as he pulled out, collapsing beside you and dragging your limp body over to lay on his glistening chest.
"Sannie, that was... fuck." You couldn't form proper words, "Thank you."
"No need to thank me, jagi." He kissed your forehead, "The pleasure is all mine."
song mingi: He barely stirs as you roll on top of him, body aching, too early to do anything about it.
"Mmh, baby," Mingi’s morning voice is deep, raspy, one of his big hands pulls your leg up over his hips, the other tugging you closer to his chest.
You fall back asleep for a while. When you wake up, your head is a little more clear, and you realize you've bled through your underwear onto Mingi’s boxers. Heat flushes your cheeks in embarrassment and he stirs as he feels your body tense.
"'S wrong, jagi?" He rubs your back as his eyes blinked open slowly.
"Mingi, I'm so sorry, I-" you move your leg and he realizes what happened.
"C'mere." He pulls you back down into a slow kiss, apparently immune to your morning breath. You can't help but let out a moan as his hand finds your ass cheek, helping your hips grind into his thigh. "Yeah, you like that?" He all but growls into your ear as his hands work your stained underwear off, following with his own swiftly behind.
He rolls you over wordlessly, spooning you from behind, his already hard length in hand as you open your legs for him. He drags the head of his cock from your clit up to your soaked entrance, repeating it a few times until you're whining, grinding your ass back, begging to be taken.
"Oh, really?" He whispers, kissing down your shoulder, "You want me that bad, hm?"
"Please, Mingi, yes." You beg.
He holds his cock to your entrance, "Don't worry baby, I've got you." He pushes forward slowly, tip barely buried inside of you. "Go ahead, then." He instructs. You obey, working yourself down rather easily with the extra lubrication as you stretch over his large dick. You can tell he's watching himself disappear inside of you, his hair tickling your shoulder.
"Ah, fuck, jagi. You take me so well." He moans, beginning to lay long, lazy strokes. You knew when you first saw him dance on stage that his stroke game would be incredible, and you were pleased to find out how right you were when you started dating. It's only improved as he's gotten to know you better.
His hand reaches around to find your clit, fingers bumping into his shaft as he pleasures you, the perfect amount of pressure, circling and stroking. You were cramping so bad when you woke up but now your ab muscles had been given something real to focus on. You lean back, head falling to his broad shoulder as your whole body spasms in release. "Fuck yeah, just like that, baby." Mingi growls, his pace picking up as he works you through it, hips pumping harder and faster until he finally stills, and the feeling of his cock pumping you full of his seed is nearly enough to have you on the edge of coming again. All he has to do is play with your tender nipples and lay a few more strategic strokes and you're clenching around him again, breathless, whole body boneless, insides jellied.
You both caught your breath for a minute before Mingi spoke again. "Baby, I know we had plans for the farmers market today, but I'm sore from dance practice yesterday and I know you don't feel well. What if I make us some breakfast and start a load of laundry and then we can stay in all day and watch movies until I have to go to the studio tonight?"
You crane your neck around to kiss him, off-kilter from the odd angle, "That sounds perfect, baby."
"Mmh, good, I'm glad." He kissed you again, "Let me go grab you some Midol and start the shower, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you for being so sweet to me."
"Of course baby," He smiled as he extracted himself from your back, "I'm happy to. You always take care of me, it's the least I could do."
jung wooyoung: Hands on your waist startle you as you're washing dishes, audio book playing through your headphones concealing the noise of Wooyoung letting himself in.
“Ah!” You nearly drop the bowl in your hands, “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”
You feel yourself relax into his touch as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and moves one headphone off of your ear, “Baby, you're shouting.”
You huff as you place the bowl onto the drying rack, “Whose fault is that?”
He begins tickle you, “Not my fault!”
“Youngie!” You whine as you turn around in his arms, trying to evade his attacks, “Stop it!”
“Aw, grumpy,” his pout matches the one on your face.
You slap his chest playfully, “Hey, I have the right to be grumpy, my period just started.”
His expression turns sympathetic immediately, “Oh, jagi.” He kisses your forehead, “How can I help?”
You considered it for a second, “Well, I bought ingredients to make dinner but I really don't feel like cooking, so I was thinking about ordering in instead.”
“No way.” He grasped your face in his hands, “I'm gonna get you set up in the living room and then I'll get started cooking, okay?”
“Are you sure? You don't have-”
He cuts you off with a swift kiss, “No protesting. I'm happy to do it.”
You watch one episode of the show you've seen a thousand times, curled up on the living room couch, but as you see the preview for the next episode, you realize it's one you don't care much for, plus, the smell coming from the kitchen is calling your name. You turn off the TV and walk in right as Wooyoung is bending down to put the food in the oven to bake, making yourself right at home behind him on the island. He shuts the oven door and removes your light pink oven mitts- which look adorable on him - turning to spread your legs open so he can stand between them, arms caging you in as he presses his forehead to yours.
“Hi, beautiful.” You've always found his voice endearing, but it's especially so with the slight rasp it gets when he's jonesing for a you fix.
“Hi, handsome.” You barely get the words out before he's kissing you. Slow, deep movements from his mouth draw a moan from yours.
You can already feel heat pooling between your legs at his proximity and you pull back to ask, “Baby?”
“Yes, darling?” He smiles, eyes dark with desire, reveling in how he knows he drives you crazy.
“How much time do we have?”
“Twenty minutes,” His hand skims the waistband of your loose sleep shorts, sending shivers down your spine, “Plenty of time.”
You don't get a chance to reply before his fingers find their way inside your underwear, circling your throbbing bud slowly before dipping down to gather the slick that has gathered at your entrance, taking his time as he trails them back up, exploring your folds before resuming his ministrations at your clit.
Your hand finds his waist to hold onto for support, getting carried away with the sensations he's providing.
His thumb takes over for his fingers as they work their way south once again, circling your entrance before plunging them inside, curling them to hit your sweet spot.
“Wooyoung-” You gasp, your muscles already tensing at the magic he's working.
His lips tickle your earlobe as he whispers, “Shh, jagi, I've got you.”
Your head falls to his shoulder as his fingers set a pace, the sound of how wet you are at his touch only serving to double it.
You whimper as your walls start to clench around them and you can almost picture the smirk he's wearing, “That's it, pretty, just like that. Come on my fingers.” His words only intensify the sensation of pleasure as you clench around his fingers, panting as you call out his name.
He pulls his hand out when he's sure you've ridden out the waves, holding his slick fingers, streaked in some places with blood, in front of his face, devilish look on his face, eyebrow cocked.
“Wooyoung!” You scold him, “Don't you dare-”
But it's too late, he's popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes rolling back in his head at the taste.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
The timer goes off, interrupting you from further chastising him.
“What?” A smile takes over his face, “You taste good all the time, honey.”
You roll your eyes, but secretly find it cute.
He insists on feeding you bites of your dinner later, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin when you're finished.
Later, in the shower, you let him bend you over and hit it from behind, pulling out last second to finish, hot liquid landing on your back, your ass. He helps you wash your body to make up for it.
Once in bed, he kisses you all over, making you giggle and squirm before finally relenting and tugging you to his chest, stroking your hair as your breath evens out and you drift off to sleep.
choi jongho: You almost wonder if the man has logged into your period tracking app on his phone, uncanny in how he can pretty much always predict it. Eyes studying you a few days out as you tear up unexpectedly at a particularly sappy car commercial. You find your cabinets stocked with your favorite snacks the next day.
The next morning, you wake up bloated, cramping, and grumpy. As you head into the bathroom, you realize Jongho has re-stocked your pain killers and period supplies. You call him when you get back into bed.
He answers on the second ring, “Hi, princess, how are you feeling today?”
“I swear you're more accurate than my tracking app, you fortune teller.” You can't help but be amazed at his abilities.
He chuckles, “No, peach, I just pay attention.”
You smile at the cute pet names. He's always trying out new ones on you. You can hear traffic in the background, “You're the best. What are you up to?”
“I'm about five minutes from your apartment.” He answers.
“Choi Jongho!” You giggle, “How did I get so lucky?”
“I'm the lucky one, jagi. I'll see you soon.”
He's good to his word, chocolate and a teddy bear in his arms, backpack slung over one shoulder when you open the door to let him in.
“Baby!” You all but squeal, “You're too good to me.”
He puts his things down on the coffee table and pulls you into a big bear hug, “Anything for my perfect girl.”
You pull back and he traces your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you, his lips slow and careful, hands gentle as he pulls you close. Your tongue probes into his mouth and he allows it, a moan coming forward from somewhere deep in his chest. He detached his lips, “Do you want to go to your bedroom, sweetheart?”
“Yes, please.” You simper.
He scoops you up bridal style and carries you to your bed, placing you gingerly onto the bed, climbing on top of you, kissing you into the mattress.
“Baby,” You stop him as he reaches for the hem of your shirt.
“What's up?” He falls to the bed beside you, not wanting to crowd you.
“I'm probably going to sound crazy and too needy-”
“Hush, don't talk about my girlfriend like that. Tell me what you need, ma chérie.”
You giggle at his attempt at French, “I don't really want to like… have sex. Because I feel icky. But I still want to. You know.”
He smiles fondly at you, “Where's your vibrator, gorgeous?”
You blush, pointing to your bedside table drawer.
He is relentless with your favorite toy, talking you through multiple orgasms, leaving your legs jellied, panting and sweating.
“So good for me, darling. I love watching you come.” He praises you as he switches the vibrator off, placing it on the bed beside him, pulling your boneless body to his chest.
“Thank you for understanding,” you murmur into his chest, “Sorry I didn't feel like doing more.”
“You never need to apologize for something like that.” He kisses your forehead, “Promise I'm happy to do it anytime. Anything to help my baby feel good.”
The teddy bear he brought is the weighted kind you microwave to help alleviate cramps, which he fixes up for you before curling up with you on the couch, chocolate within reach. He turns on your favorite comfort movie without being asked, humming the score softly. The sound of his voice melts your heart. You feel yourself drift off to sleep before the movie ends, with Jongho’s strong, warm hands moving absentmindedly across any expanse of skin within his reach, heart feeling fuzzy with affection towards your sweet boyfriend.
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez san#ateez mingi#ateez wooyoung#ateez jongho#ateez soft hours#ateez period sex#period sex
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do you have any personal thoughts on what exactly is it that drives the player to do a snowgrave route? or do you think we're not supposed to know yet..? like you know how in undertale the genocide route is mostly about curiosity and using the player's completionist mentality agaisnt them, i feel like snowgrave has something to do with the prophecy but we cant know for sure yet, do you think snowgrave would be more about playing with people's feelings or something like that ? sorta like, "I like noelle so i'll spend more time with her and make her strong" "i dont like berdly so i'll play the route where he dies" or maybe literally just "I love when stories make me feel awful so that's why i'll play the Mean route" LMAO since i think thats common in ppl who like to discuss the route
it’s interesting, I think it’s something we don’t really have enough information to know yet. I think it depends on the nature of the soul and how it got to this world, what put it here and why. I think…. the holiday family is kind of the center of everything, and noelle is the only member of it who’s like, available? rudy’s in the hospital and carol & dess are already fully involved, but noelle was still innocent and ignorant, and healthy. so to that end I don’t think it’s necessarily about who noelle is as a person, it’s because she has access to this power. the ability to break the game.
the thing that keeps getting brought up in chapter 3 is “freedom”. you want to play your own way and do whatever you want. youre enjoying the youthful days. it’s fun. I think the mechanics of the weird route are in direct conversation with the geno route and how people have reacted and gotten used to it over the years, and turned it from like a dark secret to half the conversation around undertale. so it’s asking “how far are you willing to go in order to achieve that same ‘freedom?’ we already know you’re willing to kill all these sweet and fun characters, you want that same thing again, but what if the only avenue to get there was through the slow psychological destruction of an innocent girl? would you be willing to do these terrible things to her? would you be willing to select just the right action to hurt her over and over? would you be willing to sit and watch the consequences of what you’ve done?”
I mean. that’s one angle anyway. I also subscribe to the idea of the weird route as “power-leveling” your favorite character, or just wanting to make the “weak girl” into something strong and threatening, in defiance of all those games that wouldn’t let you do just that. youre helping her of course. and girls like her dont usually get to become the strongest. you want to see it just once.
I think the former is much more likely to be the overall “point” of the weird route, but maybe the latter is like, the internal justification the player/soul gives themselves within the narrative. and of course in real life every actual person playing is going to feel differently and have different reasons. but again, we really don’t have enough information to make that kind of call. it could just as easily be something that will become clear only when we get much deeper in.
#asks#analysis#in other circumstances i would also suggest the idea of wanting to make the 'useless girl' into something well. useful#but everyone likes noelle. i dont think anyone thinks shes annoying or pointless in the way they treat other female characters#and besides when peope think like that they usually just want to get rid of the 'dead weight' and use them as little as possible#so i dont think its that.
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"Talk To Me"
Braxton x Reader
A/N: like all my fics, this is really self indulgent, and maybe one day it'll lead to me writing for other jon bernthal characters but for now. This is all I got
Warnings: mentions of nightmares, otherwise none, its cute

It was late.
It was really really late, about 2:30 in the morning, kind of late.
Or was it early?
You really weren't sure, you supposed It depended on the type of person you were whether it was late or early.
It was late for you specifically though.
You were only awake because you'd had the most vivid and horrific nightmare and you just had to make sure Braxton was okay. You'd woken up panting, sweaty, your blankets bunched at the bottom of the bed, clearly you'd thrashed around quite a bit before you'd finally bolted upright.
He wasn't answering. This shouldn't have scared you as badly as it did, Brax was working, and you weren't even sure what country he was in, to know what time it was. It could have been just as late, or the middle of the day, you had no idea. All you really knew was that you desperately needed to hear his voice. You just needed to know he was okay.
You'd never actually been so disappointed to hear his voice mail message, instead of leaving one after the tone, you hung up and tried again. The fingers of your freehand drummed a random pattern against the mattress as you silently begged whatever god was listening for Braxton to just answer his phone. Usually he'd pick up on the first ring, because of his ever present earpiece, it would annoy you when he'd wear it at home, but now you were cursing the fact that he didn't have it.
The third ring, and then the fourth. It stopped ringing, “hello?” There was his voice, finally, you'd never been so grateful to hear him.
The relieved sound you made was clearly heard by Braxton, because he asked, “sweetheart? Are you alright? What's goin' on?”
You took a really deep breath, and let it out before you started speaking, “I'm really sorry for calling, I know you're working, but I just, I had.. a nightmare and it was so real, and you- I just had to make sure you were okay.”
You heard stuffing through the phone, and the tell tale click of a lamp turning on, “I'm here, sweetheart,” he murmured, “I'm ok. How can I help?”
You couldn't help but sniffle, even when you were waking him up, Braxton was still ready to take care of you, “just, can you um, can you talk to me? Just about anything, just for a few minutes-”
“Yeah, yeah absolutely- I'm right here-” he agreed almost instantly.
You got nice and comfy in bed again, rolling over to his side. You'd definitely have to change the sheets, but that was an issue for tomorrow. As soon as you were settled you asked him, “how was your day?”
That must have been a very loaded question, because he was off. Braxton told you about his boss, and the insane demands the client had, “like I'm talkin' horse head in the bed, sweetheart, how fucked is that?” He tossed in, clearly annoyed.
You couldn't help but laugh, and in turn it made him chuckle, “they think I'm like, a mob enforcer- which sure I can pretend, for a price right? But they're not willing to pay the fee- so I'm just doing the job, should be done today actually, and then I'll be home, how's that sound?”
The sound of his voice always relaxed you, so you were really near falling asleep again, but you nodded, knowing he couldn't see you, “sounds good Brax, miss you-” trailing off with a yawn.
He smiled, running a hand through his hair with a small huff, “miss you too, so much, you think you can get some sleep for me? Maybe if we're lucky, I'll be home by the time you wake up, hm?”
You yawned again, cuddling into his pillow, “yeah, mhm, I can do that, love you.”
He shook his head, the smile never leaving his face, “love you too sweetheart, so much-”
He didn't think you would reply, but he stayed on the phone anyway, just until he heard your breathing really slow, and deepen. He only hung up after that. Running a hand across his face, he sighed, he was already awake, so there wasn't any reason why he couldn't get the job done early.
The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get home to you, and that was all he really wanted. Just to get home, and hold you. If he finished quickly, maybe you'd still be asleep, and he'd get to sneak into bed, and lay with you for a while.
That was all the motivation he needed to get out of bed, handling this while everyone was still asleep was probably the best way to go.. thank god he didn't have to outsource a horse head for this job. The little victories, and the idea of you waiting for him at home, would carry him through the completion of this job
#cain writes#jon bernthal#the accountant#the accountant 2#braxton the accountant#braxton#braxton wolff#braxton x female reader#braxton x male reader#braxton x reader#x reader#fluff
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bestfriend!art donaldson manipulating you into a relationship.
tw: manipulation, isolation, lovebombing, red flag art
wrote this in a rush so :p
he's been in love with you since forever, following you around like a lost puppy since you were fourteen. you're an independent person, you've mentioned to him before how much happier you are without needing anybody. but he wants– need you to need him. so instead of accepting the fact and moving on like any normal person would do, he decided that he's going to manipulate you into relying on him.
it starts off simple, he would hide your things around your dorm and help you look for them (and you'd be surprised and grateful when he's the one that 'finds' them), he would close the lid on your water bottle too tight so you'll have to ask him to open it for you. he would steal your hair ties and wear them around his wrist to give to you when you realize yours is 'missing'. he would place your things on higher shelves so you'll have ask him to come get it for you, he'll position himself behind you and press against your back while he grabs whatever it is that you need. as much as he enjoys hearing you ask him for help, it's not enough. he needed to do more.
he started intentionally creating problems in your life for him to solve to make you depend on him. "your laptop won't start? come use mine. your shower head is broken? i'll come fix it for you. your wallet is missing? don't worry, i got it. you can't find your notes? i'll help you study with mine"
then he started isolating you from your friends. planting false ideas into your head about how they don't really care about you, how they talk shit behind your back. deleting text messages from your phone and declining calls from them so you'll feel left out. influencing your friends to go out without inviting you and then comforting you by telling you how you don't need them. "they're not your friends if they can do this to you, you don't deserve this. they don't deserve you. i'm here, i would never do that to you." they truly don't deserve you, and he's just doing you a favor by making you see how quickly they can drop you. and then being there to pick up the pieces.
now you're at the lowest point in your life and he's the only person you can run to. he's always there when you're stressed, lonely, when you feel helpless. now you're the one coming to him instead of him having to make you. you thank him for being there, for staying with you. "i feel like i couldn't have done this without you."
and he takes advantage of that, promising you that he'll take care of you, he'll never leave. and it worked, you said yes and he immediately started showering you with affection, distracting you from the actual problems in your life and keeping your attention solely on him and your relationship. and then he starts to tell you how he's the only one that can love you this way, "i love you, so much that i'm willing to do everything for you. do you think other people would do that? no one else is gonna treat you this way."
now that he's got you, he'll do everything to keep you with him.
#toxic art donaldson#red flag art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#challengers blurb#challengers#art donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers fic#saintzweig writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
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NERD!Armin. AOT College AU
: ̗̀➛ summary: You get invited to Eren's frat house party and bring Armin along. Little did you know that he'd take something to gain the courage to express his feelings for you...in a not so subtle way.
: ̗̀➛ mentions!: No use of (y/n), sorry y'all I can't do it. NERD! Armin who's freakier than he lets on. Soft Armin mentions because I see him as a soft lover. COLLEGE AU (yes this means everyone here is an adult). Underage drinking. Mentions of being high. Armin's tongue piercing.
: ̗̀➛ author's note: All credit towards @ маша мышка! on Tiktok/ @ musapylsa on Tumblr for that art piece that inspired this fanfic. Depending on how this turns out I'll write out an nsfw version of what happens after the party. Leave a comment and a like! Enjoy!
୨⎯ "𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀" ⎯୧
Armin Arlert was your typical nerd. Well- almost.
He was type to be academically gifted in all manners of subjects without really even trying. But beyond that he managed to insert himself into nearly every pop culture fandom he could think of and immersed himself almost obsessively in digital analysis pages with other intellectuals that could itch his genius brain in the way he needed it.
So in his spare time when he wasn’t consuming books at an alarming rate, he was nose deep into whatever far corner space of the internet he’s nestled himself deeply in. And when pulled out he had a penchant for deep articulated thoughts and ideas that usually would get glossed over by his filthy mouth and mind.
This was such a constant occurrence it was generally normalized in your small friend group consisting of Eren, Mikasa and Armin himself. Evidentially so, you were almost glad that he didn’t seem to stray away from this. It was predictable amongst the inevitably of change as you continued to grow up.
How wrong you were.
Of course when you all tirelessly worked to get into Trost University things began to change in quick, sudden bursts. Eren, for one, vied to go into a Fraternity and was able to get accepted. It was a combination of Greek words and letters you weren’t familiar with nor cared enough to memorize, but the word on campus was that they were nicknamed The Scouts.
And so in real time you began to witness the sprightly, young, ambitious boy who didn’t give a damn what others thought about him- care about his appearance, work out and lose himself in the parties that The Scouts would endlessly throw. But you knew that despite his sudden sex appeal that he only had eyes for Mikasa, who also found her style in her early adult years at the University in darker shades and gothic styles.
But the parties never suited you. You were studious like Armin and often studied with him in the on-campus library. He was a Marine Biology major. It was fitting for him, whom in his adolescence never seemed to shut up about ocean and exploration. Now he could pursue his dreams and the sea which was as blue as his eyes.
And yet despite your shy nature, Eren had managed to convince you to attend a massive party that he was throwing with The Scouts to mark the end of the grueling semester. So naturally you convinced Armin to come along too, who promptly made an off handed comment about how you could never trust a bathroom at a frat house- someone would probably take up the space for other more “important” things.
The music was playing at a blaring volume with the bass turned up high, thumping just as loudly, practically synching up with your heart’s rhythm. The frat house was dark with the exception of multiple colored strobe lights and the kitchen lights that were dimmed to see the snacks and various alcoholic beverages that lined the counter with stacks upon stacks of red solo cups.
The air felt hot and thick with the crowd of bodies that surrounded you. It was almost suffocating amongst the strangers who you didnt know and who giggled and swayed to the beat of the music. Not to mention, Armin had temporarily disappeared in his signature baggy layered clothes.
You turn towards the punch bowl, which was no doubt filled with mystery drinks and lots and lots of juice to mask the sting and filled it up in a cup. It made you feel less of a sore thumb in an environment you knew nothing about. Mikasa was off with Eren somewhere, probably playing pool so it felt even more isolating.
The music switched to another track you weren’t familiar with. All electronic with no vocals. You leaned against the counter of the kitchen taking a sip of the questionable punch making a slight wince at the burn that went down your throat.
You could see Armin’s straw colored hair emerge from the crowd towards you. He was…different. His walk went from pulling into himself and meek towards a confident saunter towards you. His cheeks flushed with a twinge of pink.
“Where were you?” you asked, barely being able to hear your own voice through the loud music, setting aside your drink to some random surface.
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You’ve always had feelings for him since childhood, but his confident change in demeanor made your heart race and skin prickle with anticipation.
You took the moment to really look at him. Here he was, a vision of the past- an outwardly immovable piece towards the future with his favorite baggy green t-shirt that he refused to throw out and his bob hair cut he would routinely get. A creature of habit that you found comfort in amongst the whirlwind of change. Yet, he was standing there with an almost predatory look in his eyes.
"With Connie," he finally responds "You know what? I feel great. Just spectacular right now. "
"Great?" you repeat furrowing your brows. "Wait did he give you something? What the fuck Armin? Are you high?"
As Armin closes the distance, there's a loud whoop and all the lights in the kitchen turn off to descend the last lighted part of the house into darkness with the neon glow of party favor glow sticks lighting up silhouettes of other party goers in the near by radius.
"I've never been better," he says in a low voice. Far too low to properly hear him over the raging music. He steps closer, pressing you against the counter, effectively caging you in with his arms on either side.
There's a beat, a pause that must have taken no more than a few seconds that felt like it a lifetime. His hungry gaze lingering on your lips, the smell of his cologne that filled your lungs, and the world that seemed to melt away all but engulfed the ticking seconds.
"I'll prove it to you," he murmured, now so close that you could finally hear him. He leans over to brush his lips against yours in a tentative kiss. It was soft, just like him, but held an underlying strained desire for more.
You couldn't help but kiss back, his lips far more intoxicating than any alcoholic drink. He pressed himself closer, cupping your face as he kissed deeper, eliciting a soft groan from his lips.
It was a passionate flurry of deep messy kisses that made you forget where you were. He was too good at this, painfully good that it made your heart race. His leg slot between your own as the space between you both became nonexistent, bringing a haze of need that struck the deepest corners of your being.
The pressure of his leg led to a gasp that Armin saw as an opening, slipping in his tongue inside your mouth to explore. There was a small foreign sensation of cool metal that brushed against your own tongue that made you pull back.
Armin panted softly, his glasses slightly foggy. It was barely visible, but you were able to see a small piercing in the middle of his tongue that you never knew was there that peaked through his pants.
"Was that alright?" he asked softly, almost too innocently as if his kisses didn't scream out a "seasoned pro."
That's when it hit you. Armin wasn't as stuck in time as you had thought he was. Even if he wore the same dinky shirt that you'd tease him mercilessly over or kept the same bobbed cut from your high school days. It was you that wanted to stand against the power of time and stop the cascading change that wanted to wash over you.
Armin had changed slowly in his own way. You just didn't want to see it. You didn't know this version of him. The one that you caught glimpses of through his dirty jokes that he'd sprinkle into conversation. You weren't familiar with the man that stood in front of you with pent up sexual desires. Who just wasn't some innocent little nerd that fretted over analysis posts and the ocean.
"Yeah," you breathe out. Your gaze lingering on his kiss bruised lips.
His eyes shifted between your eyes and your own lips. Then as if it took some great will power, he pulled his leg that slotted between your legs back to give you space.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he whispered into your ear.
It was a dangerous question. Not that Armin was inherently dangerous, but rather that you knew that as soon as you left the frat party, you'd lose yourself to abandoned inhibitions. Anything to have his lips on you for a little longer.
You didn't know this version of him, but perhaps this was the night that you might get well acquainted.
#nerd armin#aot x reader#armin aot#armin x reader#armin arlert x reader#armin arlert fanfic#armin x you#armin arlert x you#attack on titan#aot#snk#armin arlert
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Nerd!Cregan brothers best friend type situation like Jace’s twin sister and obviously even in the au she’s the princess-esque type, rich family, cregan and jace she thinks are losers but like her and cregan actually make such a sweet couple like ugh him rambling about a game and she’s like babe i really dont give a fuck or understand but i love you so im listening (but really she’s just drooling over his bicep as he waves it around explaining some anime shit)
NERDS HAVE THE BIGGEST DICKS OKAY???
HEHEHEH YESSSS I LOVE NERDS OH MY GOD 😭🙏
Sorry but she's deffo his childhood bully💀 "dad, how did you meet mom?" "Oh, she would cut my hair and chase me and your uncle around with a knife when we were little.. hm.. good days.." and kids are like wtf- 😀🧍♀️
This is lowkey a brain dump of Nerd/Geek!Cregan, would love to write a more story like one but I just HAD to do a brain dump lmao
Also I have three different geeky things mentioned in here, 1 is Demon Slayer, 2 is Star Wars and 3 is a poem and if y'all can tell me what poem, I'll give you a lollipop or something or like a fic idk girl
MDNI 18+!!!
MASTERLIST





"So- Tanjiro and Nezuko are siblings, yeah? Their whole family gets killed by a demon and Nezuko gets turned into one! And there's these people- they're called demon slayers - they kill these demons and like protect everyone and-" At this point, you had zoned out. He was just sat there rambling on about Demon killer or Slayer demon or whatever the fuck it is.
Your loud smacks are heard through his yapping, the chewing gum becoming a weird, warm, melted texture in your mouth since it'd been there for so long.
Cregan was hot. So fucking hot. But goddamn, sometimes you had to tune him out.
Like, even during sex you have to shut him up.
You're actually surprised he isn't more quiet during sex. He's fucking his best friends little sister and all he can do is whine and moan. I mean, I think he got it from you though.
The first time you fucked him, it was his finals week. Non-stop revision for the overwhelmed nerd. Physics or chemistry or whatever confusing science shit he did - it had a specific name - fell on deaf ears.
You had asked him about it, to put his mind off of cumming too fast. Virgin. So he rambled on and on about endless science-y things, even getting so engrossed to the point that he had kind of forgotten that he had one of the hottest chicks in school bouncing on his cock like her life depended on it.
But his whines and moans were the best, literally music to your fucking ears. This was never supposed to happen. Never. He was this whiney little bitch boy that she's known since all three of them were in nappies.
You were there when he wet himself at Jenny D'Minco's sixth birthday party and everyone laughed at him, you included. You were there when he cried over the fact that you crumpled his favourite Pokémon card when he was eight. You were there when he busted his nose trying to impress a girl at the roller rink when she was sixteen and he was barely twelve.
You were even there the first time he came in his pants. 15 years old, surrounded by hot, older girls in bikinis at a pool party and one rubbed up on him? Yeah, he was a gonner before he even registered it.
Watching him grow up, seeing all the awkward shit that made him a 'nerd' and a 'geek', etc, should've given you the ick, it really should've. Especially since he was three years younger that you, but you're a nasty bitch deep down inside.
You lied to yourself. Telling yourself you didn't like him. That he was weird and an incel. But god, you'd be lying if you said that watching him jerk off in the bathroom sink when he thinks he's all alone in the house didn't turn you on to the fucking max.
But he had joined University. Left everyone behind. And so did your younger brother. He left a scrawny, whiney bitch that you wanted to jump the bones of but held yourself back, and came back a fucking man that could probably do curls with your full weight and not even break a sweat.
Safe to say, your panties didn't survive that one.
He had grown more confident over those few years too, truly finding himself at Uni. As if he wasn't himself already. But he just felt more comfortable in his own skin.
And back to where we began. Anime. Fucking anime. This man rambles about anime when he should be choking you out with his bicep as he fucks you from behind. But noooo, you're fuck buddies with the bloody BFG who refuses to hurt you.
After what seems like hours to you - it was really just three hours, I mean, how inconsiderate y'all, it ain't even that long 🙄 - he finally paid attention to you.
"And Anakin gets sent to protect Padmè in Naboo, which is obviously where they finally admit they love each other, until Padmè like- rejects him! To keep each other safe, but still!-" Your spit drools down his arm as his fingers delve into your warmth. It doesn't even seem to phase him, the fact that he's finger fucking you blind.
He has some YouTube video on in the background, showing the timeline of Anakin and Padmè and their love story, a Jedi and a former Queen turned Senator- God! You're actually learning some of this bullshit!
A high pitched moan escapes you before you can help it as his fingers find that one spot that makes your legs turn into jelly and your eyes roll back into your head.
And this fucker doesn't bat an eye.
"I think the way they had Padmè's funeral is so interesting- I mean, they literally posed her to still look pregnant, no one knew Luke and Leia were even born! They literally protected them from Anakin- Vader, since birth!" He gushes, grinning at the fact. He didn't find the fact that she was dead enjoyable or anything, he just appreciated the time and effort put into the fifth and sixth episode, the extra details making it so much better.
Cregan's gaze finally flicks down to you and his smile goes from wide and endearing to soft and affectionate. "Gods.. you look so beautiful right now sweet'eart.." Yep. That did it. Him looking into your eyes as he calls you "sweetheart" in that thick accent of his? Oh, you were a gonner before you even realised it.
With a loud whine, your thighs clamp around his arm, trembling slightly as you utter a soft "fuck.." under your breath. And then the part you love the most, his fucking whimpering.
No matter what you do together, no matter how loud or quiet you are, Cregan always has a reaction when you cum. Always. Whimpering and whining as his lip catches between his front teeth and his eyebrows furrow.
Also, don't get me STARTED on when you haven't seen him in a while and you're finally alone. Literally bones = jumped.
He weeps softly, tearing streaming down his face as his hips buck up, whimpers slipping from his lips involuntarily as you suck him off. Well, he always cried when you do. Probably one of the hottest things he does.
You're evil too, you don't even let him cum. Just leaving him high and dry until he finally musters up the courage to treat you how you oh so desire.
I mean, dominant Cregan groaning and moaning in your ear as he pounds into your cunt is fucking amazing and all but, riding him is just so much better.
His thick girth filled you up perfectly, each ridge catching on your gummy walls. "A-and.. the Duke kills the Duchess- well.. fuck- ah!.. He gets jealous and- shit!"
He gets so loud that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth, gripping his cheeks firmly as you ground your hips, teasing him just enough.
You love your geeky fuck buddy- I mean like! You like him.. but he's hotter when he can't shut up, drunk on your pussy.





Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood @velaryyon
#game of thrones#fanfic#hotd#house of the dragon#game of thrones x reader#got#x reader#got x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#game of thrones fanfic#cregan stark hotd#cregan x reader#cregan stark x reader#creganstark#cregan#hotd cregan#cregan fanfiction#cregan x you#cregan stark#cregan stark smut#jace x cregan#cregan x y/n#cregan smut#cregan x oc#jacaerys x cregan#cregan fluff#nerd#geek
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being in a relationship with chika takiishi would be interesting, because in my brain, he doesn't see it as an equal-footing relationship but more as an opportunity to possess you. all that matters in his mind is that you're his. he never really considered being yours, but truthfully, he is, since you're one of the only two people in existence that intrigues him and he would give the time of day to. now, that's not to say he treats you horribly. in fact, he treats you better than anyone else--although, that's not particularly difficult to do, considering how he treats everyone else like a chewed wad of bubblegum stuck to the sole of his shoe.
you're the only person who can get away with touching him without being pummeled into the ground or receiving a cruel backhand to the cheek. he doesn't flinch when you reach to hold his hand or glide your fingers through his fiery ombre. endo almost pities you when he first sees you wrap your arms around chika's waist or throw your arms over his shoulders, fully expecting for you to be shoved to the ground or have your arm twisted behind your back until your shoulder pops out of its socket. but, he's rightfully stunned when chika remains still and lets you cuddle up to him, the only acknowledgement of your presence being a mere glance at you or a hand briefly placed on whatever part of your body he can reach first.
he knows how much chika loathes being restrained, so how you're not only still upright but now pressing your cheek against the wiry muscle of his shoulder, endo doesn't know. but i'll tell you one thing. baby, when chika says let go, you LET GO😭 he may not strike you, but if you don't listen the first time, he'll resort to physically prying you off him or shaking you off so that he can do whatever it is that he wanted to do.
to touch on the possession thing i first mentioned, he'll do whatever he pleases with you. it isn't often that the desire for sexual gratification or even just physical affection strikes, but whenever it does, he doesn't think twice about indulging. if he wants you cage you against a filthy alley wall and kiss you stupid, he will. if he wants you to sit in his lap instead of standing behind him or sitting next to him, he'll beckon you over with a jerk of his chin. if you're moving too slowly for his taste and he doesn't feel like listening to you whine when he abandons you, so he has the idea to yank you up and toss you over his shoulder, he will. he'll be silent unless you ask questions, and even then, he might stay quiet, depending on whether or not he feels they're worth answering. don't think of trying to get down, either.
if he wants to do or say something, he'll do it. because who's gonna stop him? who's gonna whoop his ass? who's gonna be bold enough to see chika with his hand on you and think that trying to approach or kidnap you would bode well for them? exactly.
he's still not super talkative, but you're more likely to get a response or be approached of his own volition than the wide majority of people, so that counts for something, i suppose. he just kind of exists in your vicinity--or rather, you in his. if you were to tell endo that a day would arrive where someone is genuinely comfortable and unguarded when in chika's presence, he would've thought you were full of shit. but, here you are.
he doesn't get jealous, per se, but he does get possessive. you are his, and the wide majority of people are aware. however, that doesn't mean that you don't have the occasional guy who've either never heard of chika or don't know that you two are together.
chika has never been one to meddle in other people's affairs, often passing by conflicts or shady behavior without even batting an eye. and at first, when he hears the usual spiel of some guy trying to chat up some girl around the corner, he ignores it, uncaring. but, just as he's about to tune out the background noise, the man says something that piques his interest.
"that's a pretty necklace ya got there. what's it say? chika? lemme see."
"don't fucking touch me! that's my boyfriend's name!"
chika's footsteps pause, his attention drifting in the direction of the sound. it's you. that's all he needs to know before he's rerouting himself and making his way toward the source. his blank expression doesn't waver even as he rounds the corner and comes face to face with a broad, muscular back clad in a faux leather jacket. whatever guy is speaking to you hasn't noticed him, preoccupied with towering over you and trying to weasel his way into pawing at the sparkling pendant resting on your chest. you're shuffling backward, forehead creased apprehensively and hands drawn up to your chest protectively.
"hey."
it's only one word, yet it shatters the atmosphere like a whip crack, splitting apart your harasser's control at the seams. chika can see the goosebumps that prickle over the back of his neck as he whirls around to face him.
"the fuck do you want?" the stranger, still attempting to save face and scrape together his dignity despite having been rattled by chika's aura, brazenly steps up to him. "can't you see we're talkin' here?"
but, chika isn't even looking at him, his attention focused just past his shoulder at where you're standing. at the sight of your boyfriend, your eyes gleam with relief, and your muscles visibly relax. "chika!" you beam.
"ah, so you're chika." your harasser muses. "stupid move, lettin' your bitch wander off on--"
chika breezes forward without bothering to let him finish. in the process, his shoulder collides with the man's, knocking him off balance and leaving him teetering haphazardly on one foot before he quickly steadies himself.
"hey!"
his objection falls on deaf ears as chika clutches your wrist and tugs you toward him, his grip so tight that it's nearly bruising. you stumble, narrowly avoiding bumping into him.
"i'm fine--" your reassurance is cut off when chika abruptly seizes your face, fingers dimpling the skin of your cheeks and consequently puckering your lips as he angles your face this way and that. his eyes roam your face, dark with that same unreadable shadow you've grown accustomed to seeing. you whine in protest, hands lifting to rest on his forearm, but you don't push him off.
the strange man reaches for chika, eyes alight with flame. "what the hell do you--"
you don't even have time to process chika's arm being ripped away from you before there's a sickening, dull crack and a spatter of blood sailing through the air. all you can do is stand there in shock while your harasser slumps to the concrete in a pitiful heap, eyes fluttering as his consciousness slips and scarlet pouring from his smashed nose. chika casually lowers his hand back to his side as if nothing were amiss. he spares his handiwork a single glance before calmly stepping over it and heading back in the direction he came.
"let's go."
you don't hesitate to follow.
#windbreaker x reader#windbreaker x you#chika takiishi#chika takiishi x reader#wind breaker#satoru nii
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[ As promised I present to you Caleb's NSFW alphabet! I actually had fun making this and got a bit carried away oops. I added little descriptions for some to avoid confusion and I'll be doing the alphabet of the other boys too ;) ]
A = Aftercare
After sex with Caleb feels so comfortable in a way that is just, easy. He'd tease about how wrecked you look only to laugh when you tell him off, catching the pillow thrown at him before it hit his face and then pouncing to tickle you.
He has a lot of energy after sex too Instead of tiring him out it refreshes him type of deal. So he'd make the two of you something to eat after a shower and put on a show the two of you were watching or find some board game to play with you.
B = Bondage
Be it him tying you up or the other way around he is into it. The only thing is that every time it's happened it was 100% not planned and the restraints were just whatever was closer at the time— A belt, a necktie, a necklace wink wink.
C = Crying
Every time you cry he gets worried so it's not his favorite thing. It just doesn't do anything for him to see you in tears, even if it's because of pleasure. Caleb never wants to be the reason for your tears period.
He is also not the type to shed tears for multiple reasons (unless we're talking about you dying or something) sorry ladies.
D = Dominance
Though he has a preference for being dominant I think Caleb is also a HUGE switch! He would do anything for his s/o and if this means he has to get on his knees for you then he 100% will because the look on your face is just worth so much to him.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
📢 VIRGIN !
sorry, I mean he has no experience. Absolutely zero. However, he does have some idea of what to do because he's searched it up merely for your sake. He wants to be ready for anything and that includes making you feel good.
F = Favorite position
Any position where he can see your face is his favorite. Perhaps a bit tradicional, but he does enjoy missionary because then he can have your hands pinned down against the mattress and you completely open to him.
G = Goofy (are they serious in the moment? Or are they humorous? etc.)
I think it can be a mix? It really depends on context with this little guy. He can be overly serious or very playful, causing the both of you to exchange giggles in the middle of it because of some silly comment or because he bumped his head by accident.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)
He likes to shave everything because he wants to feel and look "clean" for you. Mans just obsessed with being perfect in every way for his partner and that includes being a hairless dog.
I = Impact play
Hitting you is not for him. Caleb just can't bring himself to raise his hand against you in any way, but you doing it....Well, let's just say he wouldn't mind it if you were to slap him around when he didn't listen. He'd like it if you were to grab his face with a firm hand, adding a pleasurable sting to the red spot on his cheek, to make him do whatever it is you wanted.
J = Jack off (how often do they masturbate? Do they enjoy doing it alone? ect.)
*taps mic one more time*: The most sexually frustrated virgin to ever walk this Earth.
For years Caleb had no choice but to get himself off while thinking about you and using your clothes, your scent, and even with all his self-control a person has needs yk.
During teen years this poor guy wanted to bury himself in a ditch because of how horny he was. You breathed a little too close to his neck and boom, he has a hard-on. Now that he's older? Not that much changed, but because he's so busy he just doesn't really have the time to do it and it slips his mind.
K = Kissing (How do they kiss? Where do they like to kiss or be kissed the most?)
He loves, loves, loooooves kissing your lips. Like, your lips are swollen and bruised because of how much he does it. It's always so passionate and hungry once he starts because he's been waiting so damn long for this. Your taste on his tongue makes his head spin so good and all he wants is to keep kissing you until neither of you are able to breathe.
L = Location (favorite places to have sex.)
His (locked) office, his bed, in the shower. In that order.
M = Masochism (are they an M or an S? Do they enjoy pain? How much can they handle it? ect.)
Masochist alert !
Honestly he wouldn't be here if he wasn't some kind of masochist let's be so real right now.
Like I said he wouldn't ever hurt you, but he is okay with being roughed up if it's by your hands. The harsh pain on his scalp when you pull on his hair and the feeling of your foot stepping on his pitiful boner are enough to make him cum before even taking off his pants. Caleb lives for any attention from you and the way your eyes sharpen when you glare down at him who was put on his knees just make him so weak. Gods, you look stunning from above.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Blindfolding him or covering your face are a big no-go. His FOMO is so bad it seriously cracks me up.
Threesomes, group sex, public sex ect— Anything that involves sharing you or showing you to others is an absolute no.
And of course, anything that includes hurting you or making you cry.
O = Oral
Okay so he is reaaaally into both, but I feel like he enjoys being on the receiving end more even if he wouldn't ever admit it.
The feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock and the way your eyes get a little hazed seem to satisfy a side to him he never thought would be satisfied. His pervy, teen self wouldn't believe how far he's come (get it? lol)
Regarding skill— My pookies know I have a virgin Caleb agenda here so he is not the best, at first at least. You have to take the time to teach him how to make you feel good, but he is a fast learner ;).
P = Patience
Rarely denies you an orgasm UNLESS he is in one of his "teasing" moods because you were giving him a little too much attitude.
H O W E V E R this loser can only hold out for so long when it comes to you. If you say the right thing, with the right tone, blinking your little puppy dog eyes at him he's gonna fold like a paper crane.
Oh not to mention the fact that he will always keep your hands faaaar away from his body because the second you touch him his resolve crumbles completely.
Q = Quickie
Personally I think he is not the biggest fan of quickies, but he does do it often. Caleb has a godly amount of self-control that only begins to fall apart once he's in a relationship because everything is just overwhelming, in more ways than one. His hands have a will of their own, exploring your body anytime he can and more often than not it ends in some sort of pleasure experience.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Yes, absolutely. I said it before that Caleb loooves your body and he is so suppressed from all those years that he is more than willing to try a bit of everything as long as it doesn't bring you any harm. Not to mention that he LIVES to please you and anything you asked, if doable, he will do it. No questions asked.
S = Sleepy sex
I don't think he enjoys it to be honest. He always likes to be 100% aware of the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and bringing him to his release. He also doesn't feel like he can pleasure you properly if he is not fully awake.
Again, his FOMO is just ridiculous lmfao
T = Top, Bottom or Vers
In this blog I preach about him being a vers! Though I think he's mostly a top because he likes the role of being the one who takes care of you.
U = Underwear
Panty sniffer ! Panty thief ! we all yell in unison.
Well, he does enjoy your underwear. In specific though? Caleb enjoys the piece of fabric alone more than when you're wearing it because he likes to imagine it on your body and touch where it would be touching you. Pervy stuff, I know.
He also prefers if you wear his clothes, including his boxers.
V = Voyeurism
Letting others watch you? Absolutely NOT.
Him watching you getting off or the other way around however? Whew, the thought alone has him hot and bothered.
W = Wild card (personal headcanon that can be considered unexpected)
He will agree to pegging. There I said it so strap on ladies.
X = X-Ray
I ain't doing this LMFAO sorry pookies dick anatomy is not for me. yk, a dick is a dick.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
He has such high sex drive it's insane. He doesn't last too long when the two of you have sex for the first few times, but even when he's all shaky and overstimulated he still has the stamina to keep going.
Z = Zones (His sensitive spot/s)
His dick. I'm so serious right now. It may be obvious, but it really is the most sensitive part of him and anywhere close to his inner thighs/pelvis is just as good.
Caleb also considers extremely erotic if you suck his fingers while maintaining eye contact - guarantee to get him hard in seconds.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads#lads x reader#lnds#lnds x reader#lads caleb#caleb love and deepspace#caleb x reader#caleb smut#love and deepspace caleb#lnds caleb#caleb lads#caleb lnds#caleb
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SCREAMING
Krueger trying to wedge himself into the relationship and Nikto being too busy trying to stop others from finding out so they won't do the same is so funny, he'd fend Krueger away from your little shared home with the garden hose and it's freezing water if you let him (hating violence in the home 😭💕💕💕 I love him so much)
I can't figure whether Krueger would be stunned about the fact that Nikto of all people ("Andre, my Andre" to their little schatzi) is running around more in your little home than if he were on base or in the field with orders barking in his ear, or if he's just immediately like "yup this is exactly what we're doing"
I can see Andre being absolutely miffed about Krueger taking some of the things they do for you away from them, and trying to get to everything first (and he'd probably succeed for a time because he's so in tune with your needs) but there's only so long they can get away with that before Krueger has what he does memorized
depending on when I figure other Kortac peoples personality more, I'll send in stuff about them bc they got One glimpse and it was like blood in shark infested water, now they're alert and can spot the kiss mark on Nikto's mask, or when Krueger inevitably bullies his way into the relationship, some evidence of that little slice of heaven on him (much to Nikto's increasing dismay, poor guy, at least he gets so many kisses and cuddles and so much praise for his trouble)
-Simp anon 💕
referring to this
nikto doesn't remember quite how he ended up here. he knows that they had a conversation with you about integrating krueger into your relationship (because that's what you wanted) but he didn't know it'd move so quickly. because now, the three of you are in bed together, with your head buried in his chest and krueger snoring whilst holding you from behind.
now he's not the only one subjected to your silly antics and pranks (he'll never forget the way krueger swore when you shoved your cold feet on his back), not the only one to fetch that tea you like from the top shelf, not the only one to give you his coat when you get cold.
in all honestly, he's surprised he's not more miffed about the whole thing. but when he looks at krueger, and sees that same adoring expression he wears reflected back to him, he understands.
krueger is just as smitten with you as he is. it's uncanny. it's like looking in a mirror, an expression he thought he'd never see on himself or someone like krueger.
but the longer krueger lingers in your shared lives, the more mutual respect there is between them. he can appreciate another man as dedicated to your happiness as he is. krueger moves in your lives just as smoothly as nikto does. like tending to and taking care of you is as natural as breathing.
krueger had no qualms about running around the house for you alongside nikto. sure, the whole "andre dearest" thing was a little bit of a shock the first time around but he settles in quickly. he had to fight nikto tooth and nail for this opportunity, so there's no way he's messing this one up. the moment you open you mouth to say something, he's listening intently.
you barely have the time to say "honey do you mind fetching me--" and he's already bringing you the thing you were about to ask for. how does krueger do it? you have absolutely no earthly idea. intuition? previous behavior? you don't know, and you don't really ask.
sometimes those two make it into a "friendly" competition of sorts. cold glares and sparks flying in an entirely unromantic way as they race to get you whatever you requested. nikto is 100% tripping krueger, and krueger will elbow nikto so they can reach whatever you wanted faster.
you have to chastise them for it, both of them sitting on their haunches in the living room looking like guilty dogs.. you have to tell them that you love the both of them equally. that your love is boundless and there's no need for either of them to win it because they both already have it. and worst of all if they aren't nicer to each other then you won't let them do things for you anymore. so those competitions of their are soon history after that.
you're a good influence on them. you keep them in check, the one holding the reigns on two extremely unruly dogs (only on their best behavior for you), and signs of your love rub off on them. krueger is far more patient and tolerant than usual (which is honestly more scary) and nikto speaks just the tiniest bit more.
something about them is so very different, but they don't put two-and-two together with krueger's new behavior and you until you show up on base again, in hand with two hand made lunches. and then everything clicks.
#leon writes ˖◛⁺⑅♡#leon's letters#nikto x reader#cod nikto#cod x reader#sebastian krueger x reader#cod krueger
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FINALLY IT'S ALMOST OVER but, I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!
All prompts come from this post here ♡
And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶
Taglist: @wannaberecluse @cupcakesmoothie
Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken
Valentine's Day in Obscuary
Ed
how does he show affection?
You will never know true privacy ever again, and that is not an exaggeration. He simply latches onto you and never lets you go. He WILL be staying in your room whether you allowed it or not, he WILL link his arms with yours whenever you're walking somewhere and he WILL complain about the harsh sunlight everyday (you tell him he could just stay in Obscuary and you'd visit him later, but he refuses, saying human life is fleeting so he can't afford to waste a single second without you. Good luck).
does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?
He likes them, but his version of a hug is draping himself over you in a dramatic fashion – whether it's when he's "feeling unwell" or when he just wants all your attention to himself, Ed leans all of his body weight onto you, hands squeezing and petting everywhere he can reach. You have to pry him off of you when you two are in public, lest you want some Frostheim student clutching their pearls as they watch the vampire and his less-than-appropriate behavior.
is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?
Depends on what you think it's good flirting. Are you attracted to centuries old vampires that like to murmur innuendos in your ear while constantly invading your personal space? If yes, then Ed is the perfect man for you. If not, well... you might need to have a long, serious talk with him (spoiler: he won't change).
is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?
His gifts are always a coin toss. He can either surprise you with a beautiful, vintage trinket from times of yore he has carefully kept safe for centuries, or he can straight up just gift you a one month subscription to his favorite twitch streamer. It's best if you just tell him the things you want – he might whine and tell you he has no money (even though he gives superchats to his oshis like. every day), but he will relent eventually and find a way to give you whatever you wanted in the end.
is he quick or slow to give his heart away?
Slow. His behavior sometimes makes everyone forget about it, but Ed has been alive for longer than anyone can understand. He's had family, friends, and lovers – now, all fading memories due to the passage of time. He intimately knows the horrid pain of losing a loved one time and time and time again. Going through something like that again isn't on his plans – he doesn't see the beauty in what's ephemeral anymore. So it takes him a long time to come to terms with his feelings. He might try to pressure you into letting him turn you into a vampire though.
does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?
Easy, but it takes some time for it to be genuine. Like most things in his life, words have become trivialized as well. He's forgotten the weight of them, finding it easy to say "I love you" as a way to tease and aggravate you (or Rui or Lyca). As he begins to accept his own feelings for you, however, it becomes less and less frequent – he sees truth in his own words, and it's alarming. Not to mention, he has cried wolf one too many times: the next time he says it, he wants you to finally believe in his love as much as he believes in it himself.
does he get jealous in a relationship?
Not really, but he'll never ever miss the chance of making a scene and putting on his drama queen crown whenever he sees you talking with some other guy. You might even think he IS jealous, but his plans are more mischievous than you expect. It's almost impossible for Ed to feel threatened, honestly – he's lived many lives, and he's tired now; jealousy requires a lot of energy and he just doesn't have it in him anymore.
what is his ideal date?
Diving into the most random rabbit hole on YouTube and spending all day together watching videos about it and discussing them all while cuddling on his bed (after deep cleaning his room, of course...). Soon, you and Ed will be extremely knowledgeable on the most niche subject possible, and no one will be able to decipher what the hell you two are talking about – and Ed wouldn't have it any other way.
would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?
He genuinely doesn't think about marriage. What is forever to someone who never dies? Unless you are willing to let go of your humanity and turn into a vampire to stay with him in his eternity, marriage won't be a reality for the both of you. He won't make promises if you aren't going to fulfill yours.
how does he feel about valentine’s day?
He thinks it's an interesting little human creation but doesn't really partake in it (besides watching Valentine's themed streams). If you care a lot about the date, however, he might have his curiosity piqued – after all, it's the perfect excuse to obnoxiously cling onto you without receiving any complaints. It's Valentine's Day after all!
does he get protective easily?
He wouldn't call it protectiveness, but it's what it would seem like to anyone who observed him. Ed is always watching, keeping himself in the shadows or in the corner of your vision. He steps in when needed, nothing more, nothing less. He has saved you from more predicaments than you will ever know, but you don't need to. There's no need for fanfare nor ostentation. He's too tired for that.
does he believe in true love?
He used to, centuries ago. Rekindling a fire that has been out for longer than any human can conceive seems like an impossible task... but you seem to be special. Why don't you take a shot?
Rui
(Like with Zenji, in these headcanons, Rui's curse has been broken, so it's not too angsty)
how does he show affection?
He could do anything and everything for you. You only need to ask. He wants to grant your every wish – be it some food or drink you want to try, clothes you want to buy or even just keeping you company whenever you need him. He wants to be your chaperone, your student partner, your helper, your date, your best friend – he wants to be dedicated to you, ready to be all yours whenever you want him. All he asks is for you to allow him to hold you in his arms as he does so.
does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?
LOVES them. He is constantly placing his arm around your shoulders or your waist, always ready to pull you even closer. His hugs are tight and almost suffocating – Rui presses you against him as if he's afraid you could turn into sand between his fingers. His hands trace circles on your back, soothingly; you just don't know if he's trying to soothe you or himself.
is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?
You know he's great. However, Rui flirts shamelessly and openly with anything that breathes, which, consequently, prevents you from believing his words whenever his attention is on you. It actually frustrates him greatly. He begins to wonder if he should change his whole behavior only to have you finally flustered when he winks at you or blows you a kiss. After all, his charm isn't working with the one person he wished to impress.
is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?
He's great at it. He can barely wait for Valentine's Day to arrive so he can give you the enormous basket full of gifts he has assembled for the past WEEKS. He knows absolutely all your tastes, and he will show off, eager to receive some praise from you as you rummage through all the things he's collected to give you. He'll be even more elated if you wear all the accessories and clothes and perfumes he's given you – he feels like an even bigger part of your day when you do so.
is he quick or slow to give his heart away?
Despite how freely he flirts with everyone, Rui is slow when it comes to falling in love. He's very aware, though, of what happens in his heart once he begins falling for you. He knows his words are more truthful than they used to be; he knows his voice is tinged with a sadness that only someone who's in love can understand. At a certain point, his flirting becomes some form of masochistic punishment to himself – you don't know how much he wants you to believe him, and he can't stop reaching out for you, only to be met with your distrust. He had to plan thoroughly how to convince you of the honesty of his feelings, but at this point he was ready to rip out his bleeding heart and present it to you.
does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?
It's easy, although the occasion changes as he falls in love with you. Right as he met you, it was easy: he would say it whenever he wanted to compliment you, thank you, or just as a greeting. As his feelings grew stronger and more real, however, he began saying it only when you were in his arms – his lips close to your ears as he inhaled your scent. Those three words became the culmination of his emotions; the utmost truth he only allows himself to say with the solemnity of a man pledging his soul to his deity.
does he get jealous in a relationship?
A little bit. He doesn't let it fester, though. If someone looks like they're trying their chance with you, he's quick to appear by your side and pull you closer with his arm on your waist. He maintains a perfect smile, but you can see how it never reaches his eyes, a subtle twitch of his eyebrows being the only sign of his carefully contained anger. You squeeze him even closer to you, and his shoulder slump. How can he stay mad at some random asshole when he has his cutie by his side?
what is his ideal date?
He wants a little cliché date: an afternoon at a cafe, then a visit to a bookstore so you two can point out titles and he can learn even more about your tastes. If you want to, he'd be more than happy to follow you around at a trinket store as well, elated to see your excitement as you point out plushies and toys to him. While you have fun poking around and showing him anything that you find cute or interesting, he has fun watching all your reactions.
would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?
He would love to ask it. He wants to make a show (only for you) out of his proposal. He genuinely thinks you deserve all of the effort he can muster. Rui won't mind if you propose, though. He will probably malfunction for a little while, before his brain catches up on the fact that you just asked him to spend the rest of his life with you. Don't worry, though. He wants it more than anything else in his life.
how does he feel about valentine’s day?
He LOVES it. He's looking forward to it months before the date (probably started the countdown since December). He was already quite used to receiving chocolates and confessions every year, but he couldn't care less about it this time. All he's thinking about is whether or not he'll get a chocolate from you and how much he wants to give you your gifts. The rest doesn't matter.
does he get protective easily?
A little. He's very open when it comes to expressing his concerns about your safety. He asks you to send him text messages to update him on your day or if you need something from him. Calls you just to know if you've arrived safely at class or at your dorm. He accompanies you wherever you go if he's available. He may be busy, but he tries his best to be as present as possible in order to protect you from all the dangers lurking in Darkwick.
does he believe in true love?
He does and has always believed in it. For the longest time, he thought he was simply doomed not to ever find it. With you, he finally feels safe enough to allow himself to believe in it again.
Lyca
how does he show affection?
Another clingy one for the books. Not to be too redundant, but Lyca does follow you around like a lost puppy does to its owner. It doesn't matter when classes start, nor where they happen – he will be there, waiting for you. He's always right next to you during all of your meals, glaring at anyone who tries to join you (except, probably, Subaru). His bright golden eyes are always following your every movement, glinting with satisfaction when your attention is entirely focused on him. He drops whatever he's doing if he catches the faintest whiff of your scent. You're his favorite person, and he explicitly proves it to you every day, even though it's mostly subconsciously on his part.
does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?
He loves them, but he's too embarrassed to ever give you a hug. The only moment in which he slithers his way into your arms of his own accord is when he's feeling under the weather – when only your comfort can bring him back to his usual mood. Besides that, you're the only one who's always taking the initiative and pulling him down for a hug. He wiggles and squirms under your iron grip, stuttering about how embarrassing it is to have you holding him like that, but deep inside, he's just relieved that his tail isn't visible otherwise it'd be wagging a mile per second.
is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?
Poor baby. No, he doesn't know how to flirt at all. He can barely voice his feelings properly without getting dizzy and a bit sick. However, sometimes he does say he likes you, though it is through unrecognizable mumbles, fidgeting hands, and grumpy pouts.
is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?
His gifts consist mostly of him giving you his own artworks. If he notices you like a plant, or an animal, or a place, he starts working on drawing it as meticulously as possible, just for you. He'll hardly try to give you anything else and will probably be very self-conscious if you mention other types of gifts, so... Let him show his appreciation for you in his own way, at least for a while.
is he quick or slow to give his heart away?
He's a little bit slow. Lyca is extremely guarded when it comes to anyone he doesn't know. It takes a little while for him to open up and get used to your presence. It takes him even longer to understand that he likes you in a way that's different from the way he likes his other friends. He might need a nudge, someone to explain to him what those feelings are in his chest whenever he's with you. However, Lyca won't ever confess to you straightforwardly. He lets his emotions show through his actions, through his eagerness to please you and how he's always seeking your company. You might be the one who needs to find out he has given his heart to you. Let's hope you aren't clueless like him.
does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?
Terribly hard. Lyca had very little chances to develop emotionally during his formative years. Years of fighting for survival, and then isolation, chipped away at his ability to feel his emotions properly. Being thrusted into a whole new reality without preparation nor professional help didn't magically fix his attachment issues. He has a lot of work to do before he even manages to feel things without trying to bury them deep into himself, let alone voice them. But you know him, and you know he loves you in his own way. You can wait.
does he get jealous in a relationship?
Oh, very much so. More than just jealousy, he's constantly afraid that you'll leave him on his own or choose someone else over him. Anyone and anything is a threat. Lyca probably doesn't realize what he's feeling, nor why it brings him so much grief to watch you have fun with someone else. All he recognizes is that unexplainable anger brewing inside his chest. He stomps his way towards you, lips pulled back into a snarl, his chest hurting something fierce. He only calms down once you brighten right as you spot him and immediately try to include him in whatever activity you're doing.
what is his ideal date?
He would love to spend a whole day drawing and painting with you. If you don't know how to do any of these things, he'd be more than happy to teach you. You'd probably have to get all the art supplies beforehand, but it would be worth it – you'd be surprised to know that Lyca is, in fact, a very good and patient teacher (and he loves to be dependable).
would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?
Lyca has never thought about it. Barely knows the existence of it. If you think you two are ready for such a commitment, then you'll have to ask him. Or you can explain the concept of marriage to him and plant the little seed of this idea into his brain. He might end up immediately proposing to you, though, without much preparation or thought. He doesn't complicate things. If marriage is between two people that like each other, then you two can simply do it right away, right?
how does he feel about valentine’s day?
Much like the wedding thing, he never thought about it, nor does he care. You can explain it to him, but he might just grumble about "weird human culture". If it's important to you, however, he can try to give it a little more attention.
does he get protective easily?
VERY. If Lyca catches the slightest whiff of bad intentions coming from someone (quite literally, in his case), he WILL jump in front of you and growl at the person until they leave you alone. He has no qualms with scaring everyone away if it means he will keep you safe. Sometimes, you might need to rein him in so he won't try to scare your friends as well, but then he looks at you with those puppy eyes, apologizing for spooking them away, and it's hard to stay mad at him.
does he believe in true love?
Rui has read him stories about it – those things called fairytales. If it's in a book, then it might be real, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work? So yes, he does believe in it. And you're even more reason to believe.
#im gonna be honest i feel like this is awful because my creative juices are DEPLETED atp#but I hope it isnt that bad 😔#also I havent checked for typos or grammar mistakes yet so I'm sorry 😭#tokyo debunker#tokyo debunker headcanons#tokyo debunker x reader#edwart hart#rui mizuki#lyca colt
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