#if you think you have no one. i promise that you do. go watch the sunrise or people watch or go to a park and read a book

[beloveds-embrace]

Hiiii hshsh

So I got this idea on a car ride late at night after going to an extremely loud pub!! Which gave me this idea:33

Poly!141 plus reader

None of them know how to cook because they're used to having premade meals at the messhall or rations on missions! so when reader comes along (they can be part of the task force or they can be civilian), and they cook for them the lads decide that they're theirs now!! :3

I love this idea anon 😩😩

You didn’t think much of it at first, truly.

Cooking had always been second nature to you- something soothing, something tangible in a life filled with chaos. And in the military, chaos was the only constant.

It didn’t take long to realize something alarming, though: none of your teammates knew how to cook.

Not even the basics.

Soap, bless his heart, thought instant noodles counted as a proper meal. Gaz once tried to scramble eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm. Ghost? The man could survive in the wild for weeks but willingly lived off protein bars and black coffee when left to his own devices. And Price could grill, sure, but anything beyond that? No chance. And it wasn’t as if a grill was always available.

So, you cooked.

Not because they asked. Not because you had to, or were made to feel like you had to. But because the first time you made something decent- just a simple stew, hearty and warm, after a grueling training session- they all looked at you like you had hung the damn moon itself.

Soap groaned after his first bite, tipping his head back in dramatic bliss. “Marry me.”

Gaz, already going for seconds, nodded solemnly. “Seconded. You can’t just cook like this and expect us to let you go.”

Ghost didn’t say anything outright, but the way he cleaned his bowl and then, after a pause, slid it forward for more? Yeah. That spoke volumes.

Price took his time eating, but you caught the way his gaze softened as he watched you. Like he was making a decision.

You didn’t realize what that decision was until the next morning.

You woke up to find all four of them stationed in the kitchen, waiting. Gaz leaned against the fridge, Soap sat on the counter, Ghost loomed in the doorway, and Price stood at the stove like he had any idea what to do with it.

“What,” you mumbled, still groggy. “Are you all doing?”

Price met your eyes, calm and sure. “Waiting on breakfast. If you do wanna make it, that is.”

And that was that.

You should’ve known. Feeding a group of hungry, half-feral soldiers meant claiming them.

And, apparently, it meant they claimed you too.

The first time you all came back from a mission completely wrecked, it happened without thought.

Everyone was exhausted- cut up, bruised, dragging themselves through debrief with only the promise of a hard-earned shower keeping them upright.

You were just as battered. Just as drained. But the moment you stepped into the barracks and saw the half-hearted collection of protein bars and tasteless ration packs sitting on the counter, something inside you rebelled and cracked.

No. Not tonight.

Your body screamed for rest, but you ignored it, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself, and the promise of an actual meal kept you going.

You weren’t alone for long, thougg.

Kyle trudged into the kitchen first, watching with quiet amazement as you moved. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” you murmured, but kept going. A warm, fresh meal…

Soap dragged himself in next, blinking at you blearily before rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an angel, bonnie. A bloody angel.”

Ghost leaned against the doorframe when he came a little later, watching. He didn’t say a word, but when you swayed slightly from exhaustion, he moved- one steady hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. He didn’t tell you to stop, or get in your way- just stayed by you, a steady, comforting presence.

Also helped chop the vegetables when you asked.

John didn’t say anything either. But he sat at the table, waiting patiently, eyes tracking every movement like he was memorizing you.

By the time you put the food down- something warm, filling, real- they were too tired to talk, but their gratitude was written in every movement and shone through every appreciative sigh they let out

Soap sighed into his bowl like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “If I die tonight, at least I die happy.”

Gaz nudged your foot under the table, a quiet thank you.

Ghost, ever quiet, simply refilled your plate before his own.

And Price met your eyes across the table, something unreadable yet warm in his expression, before nodding once. “Good work, soldier.”

The second time, it was worse.

The mission had gone sideways, backwards, and right into hell.

It had been long, brutal, pushing all of you to the breaking point. When you finally stepped back onto base, none of you were unscathed- Soap’s knuckles were split, Gaz’s jaw was bruised, Ghost had a gash along his ribs, and Price carried exhaustion like it was part of him.

And you? You were running purely on fumes.

But the moment you made it back to your quarters and saw the way they all moved- silent, weighed down by the kind of tired that settled in your bones- you knew.

Without thinking, you made your way to the kitchen.

Soap’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, followed you. “You don’t have to, lass. You gotta rest-“

“I know.” You croaked out. And you still did it anyways.

The stew took time. Slow, steady, the scent filling the air like something solid. Something safe. It gave you enough time to lay your head down just a little, eyes slipping shut just long enough for you not to pass out.

They didn’t argue.

They didn’t tell you to sit down, to rest, to stop.

Instead, they hovered- Soap setting the table, Gaz nudging a chair toward you every time you leaned too hard against the counter, Ghost watching you in that way he did when words weren’t enough.

Price stood beside you near the stove, his hand brushing your shoulder in quiet appreciation.

And when you finally sat down, they made sure you ate first; Soap nudged the biggest portion toward you. Gaz made sure your glass was full. Price made sure you didn’t lift a finger once the meal was done.

Ghost was the last to move, reaching over to take your wrist, squeezing once. A quiet thank you in the way only he could say it.

That night, none of them let you leave, either.Soap pulled you down onto the couch between him and Ghost, resting his head against yours with a tired sigh, and Simon pulled your legs to rest on top of his thighs.

Gaz, already half-asleep with his back rest against the couch, muttered.” You’re stuck with us now, you know.”

And Price draped a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it solid and grounding. He patted your head, then his hand slid down to squeeze your shoulder while your eyes slipped shut, drifting off into a much-needed sleep. “That’s how it works.”

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summarly - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty in places, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- OH BOY- fingering, Suguru being a psychotic munch so oral (f recieving) rough sex, dirty talk, multiple positions, choking and smacking (in and out of the bedroom) cockwarming, mating press, creampie, TOXIC asf, hate sex, angst. WC this part- 8k

Will be three parts I THOUGHT now looking like four lmao <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!- This won the poll as the thank you for 7k followers, tysmmm!

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three (soon) Based on Clan Leader Geto

Part Two

“Now.”

Suguru’s quiet command was just that, a command, one for you to obey as his ‘wife’. But you damn sure weren’t going to act like you wanted to fuck this deranged psycho any more than you already did.

“Get it over with then, the sooner I get pregnant the better.”

“Exactly, we won’t have to do this any longer. Useless little-”

You smack him, earning a psychotic glare, violet eyes glittering dangerously as your hand stings, and red lifts on his perfect face. “Call me a monkey one more time.”

He smirks, leaning close now, yanking you to him, turning you and unzipping your dress, letting it fall, so you don’t see just how perfect he thinks you are. His hands slip around your front, one sliding up to squish a breast, thumb brushing a nipple, making you cry out before you can stop yourself, he chuckles at your response, his other finding your pussy now, dripping.

“Already so wet, hmm? Admit it, you love getting fucked by me, you know how above you I am, pathetic… human. Hmm?” You turn in surprise, as you’re soaking his fingers now, your lips parted, tantalizing, eyes rolling back as he finds your engorged little clit, swirling his fingers on it.

“Fuck… you… mnh…” Is all you manage, as he feels your hair fall back against his chest, and his cock is already throbbing, even after jerking it this morning and last night, he has to be inside you again.

“Soaking me from a little touch? So fucking pathetic.” He whispers, you bite down on your lip, shoving at his hands then, turning.

“Just put it in, I can take it now.” You have him lifting you like you’re nothing, and for this brief moment when he holds you, and your lips are too close, he pictures it, letting go with someone so measly and useless, someone so annoying and absolutely insolent.

But he can never think that way.

He tosses you on the bed, spreading your thighs, spitting right on your pussy then, you gasp at it, lewd and wanton, as he watches the bubbly clear liquid pool between lips still puffy from getting fucked last night. He moans at the sight, at loud, as he leans down, inhaling you, and you shove at him with your feet, earning another death glare.

“What are you doing, just get it done. Don’t… whatever that is!” He aches to taste you, fuck you’re annoying him, the scent driving him insane. He can smell how badly you want him, as he gathers his spit and shoves it in your little hole, and you whine out, sore and throbbing.

“Stop thinking you can tell me what to do, you’re nothing but a tool for me, a pretty little tool.”

“Pretty huh?” You cry out as he scissors his fingers now, done with your remarks, his other hand slamming on your mouth, muffling your protests.

“Will you shut up, fuck I’ll get there.” Suguru took his time with things, he wants to devour every pretty inch of your body, but you’re correct, it is in fact stupid to do so, to waste the talents of his tongue and mouth on your pretty, but useless human body. “Undress me.”

You take a shaky breath, sitting up now, with no help of his, undoing the buttons  of these black robes he’s wearing, pretentious and royal, stupid just like him. You’re filled with so much hate your chest heaves, as you realize your body wants this, and you hate that it does. You quickly drop his robes and once again, gulping as you remember the initial pain last night.

Suguru watches you hesitate, raising a dark brow now, acting as if his tip leaking precum is just so normal for this situation. “Go on, I’ll allow it.” He says then, and your eyes narrow.

“Allow what?” Your voice is full of laughter, he wonders if you have any sense of self preservation, serving to only infuriate him further.

“You to serve me, you may if you beg pretty enough.” He tilts your chin up then, and you burst into laughter, only making him scowl down at you.

“I’ll not serve you anymore than I already have to. Get one of your little cult girls to do that.”

“You insolent-”

“Come on now, what position is best for baby making?” He turns you around then, until you’re on your knees, you look back wildly at him, at his flexing muscles, his long dark hair falling over a shoulder as he grabs your hips.

“Arch your back, monkey.” Your jaw sets, and he realizes very quickly you won’t, sighing and rolling violet eyes, pressing between your shoulder blades, yanking on your hip and almost cumming at how pretty your ass looks arched. “Fuck…”

“This is the best po-mnh!” He’s pressing his tip against you, up your slit now, which pools out arousal, when he smacks you firm on one ass cheek. “Don’t fucking do that psycho!”

“You’ve irritated me.”

Your ass looks perfect with his handprints.

“Now, arch more, hmm?”

He just wants a good look at you, how small your waist looks like this, how your ass is shaped so perfectly, hips fitting in his big hands that are taking you over, and he presses deeper, sucking in his moans. His thumbs press into the dimples on your lower back, cursing silently at how perfect you feel, gripping just his tip he could cum, his head falling forward as he leans over you.

His feet planted on the floor, he presses further, making you cry out, as he stretches you, fills you, and damn if it doesn’t feel good. You bite it back again, inhaling sharply as he leans over you, his hair now falling against your bare shoulders, his breath hot in your neck as he shoves his cock so deep. His hand comes to cup your chin, turning it to make you look up at him.

God you’re pretty.

“Got you to shut up- hah.” He huffs, and you open your mouth to protest when he slams your cervix, squeezing your throat just so, until you’re fuzzy, and your cunt is slick, sucking him in hungry.

“F-fuck you… hate it…” You whisper, he laughs then, deep and dark in your ear, squeezing your throat tighter with long fingers, beginning to fuck into you, lewd noises filling your bed chamber as he moves.

“Could fucking kill you right now, tiny, pathetic little neck. Could snap it right now, huh?” He squeezes further, and you should be terrified, surely, but instead you’re convulsing around his cock, making you both sigh in pleasure, as each of you try to hide your body's reactions, and fail the more he pumps.

“Kill me… then… do it…” You whisper, and he squeezes more now, your windpipe pressed between his strong hand, as he presses fully in, bottoming out all his inches in your pussy, and you scream silently, eyes rolling back in your skull as you feel fuzzy, like you’re floating.

“I could do it, oh I could do it.” He loves it then, feeling as you’re close, he can tell with how your body jerks and moves, then he’s shoving deep and rolling his hips, watching as you shatter for him. “Can’t fucking help it, feel too good?”

You shake your head even as he’s squeezing your neck, as you’re cumming all over his cock, when he lets go, and you take a breath, burying your face, fingers gripping the silk red and black blankets. You don’t see Geto losing it, his hands shaking, cock pulsing as your walls flutter, and he feels it, he’s close already, you’re too tight, you’re too much.

Annoying.

“Don’t wanna show me how much you like it, do you?” You shake your head, gasping for a breath then.

“Hate it, hate you, hate your dick- ah!” He’s on you then, prone position, heavy weight over your much smaller body, taking you over. You’re whimpering helplessly when he finds your clit again, and shoves his cock deep. “S-stop touching it, shit!”

“You like it, huh?” You bite your lip, shaking your head as he fucks you far too intimately, one elbow holding himself up, hand right back on your throat, as he laps up sweat that’s dripping down the curve of your neck. “You love it, me inside you, don’t you monkey?”

“Fuck you.” You manage to breathe out, giving him no satisfaction as you bury your face again, hands gripping the blankets so hard they’re crumpling, screaming as he makes you cum again, as he makes you hate him more.

Suguru loses himself in you, burying his face in your neck, as he had last night, groaning softly as he feels your orgasm surround him, milk him, pulling his fingers back finally giving your overstimulated clit a reprieve. He puts his fingers to his lips then, and when he tastes you!?

Suguru pauses his thrusts, the sweetness of you unlike anything he’s ever tasted, making his cock twitch inside you, and suddenly it’s too intimate, it’s too much, having him inside you, on you, teeth sinking into your neck. It feels far too perfect, and you despise this monster even more for it, for making you weak against him, under him like this.

“God…” He murmurs, confusing you when he presses his lips against your ear, breath tickling it again, making you shiver. “Ready for me to fill you up?”

“Get it d-done.” You squeak out, he yanks you further down on his cock, pumping inside you then, and you swear this psycho cult leader whimpers, it’s almost disorienting hearing it, you barely manage to focus, as your vision swims. When his sexy - fuck it’s not sexy - moan fills your ears, and he’s shoving his thick cock so deep, you can’t stop your body’s reaction.

You’re cumming again, only edging him on further, laughing at you, even as he’s crying out, pulling your hair by the nape of your neck, pumping so deep. “F-fuck… gonna put so much in you, fill you till your stupid little ass can’t walk.”

“Fuck you- ngh!” Your orgasm is just extended as his cum fills you so deep inside, feeling him pulse and spurt so much cum it’s stupid.

“Bratty, annoying, insolent… fuck…” perfect, you feel perfect.

Suguru supposes if he had to be paired with a monkey, you were by far the best, he’d never felt anything like you before, even how you smell, the softness of your skin, everything just draws him in. He tries to shake himself out of the stupor, feeling your aftershocks milking every last drop from him, impulse making him press a kiss on your upper back.

“Don’t do that.” You whisper now, and he pauses himself, why is he kissing your skin, why is he lingering. This isn’t what this is for, it’s for power, it’s for an heir to get the Geto clan off his fucking back.

After that you won’t be needed to breed would you?

Suguru contemplates that for a moment, still laying on you, hoping you don’t get pregnant any time soon, which confuses him more than anything, as you’re gasping for a breath under him, wriggling just so. “You’re heavy, get off me.”

“You’re such a mean little bitch, you know that?” He hops off you then, turning you to your back and shoving you down by your collar bones, your breaths come faster as he looms over you, thin sheen of sweat coating his perfect body.

“A bitch? You expect me to be happy, to worship you? I never will.” You whisper, his fingers itch to touch you more, when he finally pulls back, and sees it, the milky white cum starting to ooze from your little hole. The sight of it ignites something feral in him, as he takes his fingers and scoops it up, your mouth drops open just a bit.

“You’re not even keeping the cum inside you, hmm? Guess I’ll have to help you keep it in.” He shoves his two thick, long fingers in your cunt then, watching as your hole swallows it, and you’re whimpering, so sexy his cock, sticky from you still, twitches again.

“N-not necessary, is this?” You whisper, clearly naive and innocent, it’s him defiling you really, but how can he help himself, when he needs more of you.

“It is very necessary, slutty little cunt wasting it all.”

“Slutty, bet your cult girls are like a - ah!” Suguru is curling his fingers in you again as you speak, making you stutter, when his thumb hits your clit again. “That… part… why do you…”

“Cumming, it’ll help it take.” You frown at him, brows drawing together. “It’s not as if I want you to have pleasure, or work at it, but it’s true.”

“We’re already done now though, can you- f-fuck I…” You’re gushing down his hands, the mix of his own cum and yours making him die to taste it.

“Tsk, so messy, aren’t you?” He slips his fingers out now, putting them inside your mouth, only for you to enjoy this asshole’s taste before you think better and bite the shit out of his fingers, making him scowl as he pulls them back. “Not just weak and useless, you’re stupid. Think I won’t kill you before you have a baby?”

“Worth it to bite your stupid fingers and slap your stupid face.” You sit up as he finally stands, blushing for a moment as you see the wet spot you’ve caused, as you see his cum trailing down his tip. You think wildly about licking it before you stand and turn away, clearing your throat and bending down to get your robes.

“You’re lucky my family needs you around, or I’d send a curse in and kill you in your fucking sleep.” You roll your eyes, adjusting your robes now as you turn, seeing him still shirtless, as he adjusts his own robes.

“Anything else you require of me, husband or Lord Geto- whatever the hell I’m supposed to call you.” He chuckles then, cupping your face, but not sweetly, no he’s squeezing it, violet eyes so dilated they look black, the intensity making your heart falter for a moment.

“Your mouth is just begging to be shut. Maybe if I fuck your throat good enough you’ll lose your voice?” He taunts, and your glare just makes him hard all over again, along with the thought of fucking this insolent mouth of yours. “Nothing to say about that? Get you wet?’

Yes.

“You wish.” He smirks his full lips, trailing his fingers down your waist now.

“You’ll be dripping me all day, won’t you?”

“I sure hope not, it’s uncomfortable and disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You are!” You shove at him now, breaths faster and faster, he loses his smirk, his humor, gripping your wrist bruisingly.

“You’ll be ready for dinner tonight, as well as my meeting tomorrow, you’ll be everywhere I am publicly.”

“Oh joy, can’t wait.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he opens the door, summoning the little bull curse again, who runs up to you now. Suguru’s eyes narrow, as he turns and watches the curse lick your cheek. He’s known the curse to be odd, but the way you giggle, how your face lights up?

He’s seen you scowl, seen tears in your eyes, seen your jaw set and your eyes full of fire, but for the moment you’re just happy, as the curse is nudging at your hand, and he realizes you’re not just a pretty human. You’re fucking beautiful, the kind of girl who would have taken the Suguru of Jujutsu high days by his heart, that would have had him desperate for you.

He’s not that man, but some part of him annoyingly persists, the part that misses Gojo, Shoko, fuck he misses Nanami, so many of his fallen classmates. The rage he holds is usually enough to keep the loneliness at bay, the fact that though he’s surrounded by people who love him, who need him, he’s truly alone. There are no friends, there is no love anymore.

You remind him of a past he aches to forget, when your smile and glittery eyes look at him, before they fall, and you remember yourself, which Suguru needs almost, he doesn’t need to crave happiness for you. A means to an end, perhaps the sex has ruined his fucking brain.

“Could I name him?” You ask, and he wants to smile at you, the smile he used to have, not the cruel psychotic smirk, but instead he just shrugs a broad shoulder.

“If you must, I never gave him one. He’ll keep you…” Safe. “From leaving, but he won’t…” Hurt you. “He’s very calm.”

“I know, I like him a lot. Hmm, I’ll think of a name for you, handsome boy.” You tease him, and then Suguru hears your tummy growl quite loudly, making you flush in embarrassment.

“I’ll have someone show you where the kitchens are.” He says, he hasn’t even contemplated that you need food, and even curse users eat. Clearly he’s been a little too… involved with that insane pussy you think is normal, to worry about you properly functioning.

“Oh thank you I guess… I haven’t eaten since I’ve been here.”

“Ah, that’s… not okay for making a baby.” A baby, the words hit hard then, you know your duty but to think of it… to think of your life being over… to think of bearing this man a baby.

Your tummy lurches even as you’re starving.

“I’ll send the girls up, they’re a little more…” What should he care of your comfort!? “They’re well adapted here, it’s their home.” You nod then, and he walks out, leaving you with this derpy looking curse, body aching from Suguru’s touches, as you sit on the bed, and the curse jumps up for more pets.

Just who was Suguru Geto, how did he get this way?

Should you even care, and would you survive long enough to know if it’s even worth it?

Soon Mimiko and Nanako are giggling, taking each of your hands, sucking on little lollipops and damn near frolicking, as they guide you through each hall of this ridiculous estate. They start asking you more and more questions, and for whatever reason it doesn’t feel malicious, like Suguru, like the others, like the Geto family.

“Dad seems to really think you’re pretty.” Nanako says, and you shake your head with a laugh.

“No way.”

“Have you seen how he stared at you? While you were dancing?” Mimiko asks, and you almost snort.

“Yeah, no, your dad… hates me. Clearly.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.” Nanako says, then points to a kitchen with cooks actively working, the aromas making your tummy growl again. “Go ahead, get whatever you want.”

“It’s all yummy.” Mimiko says, they run over and giggle, grabbing little pieces of different sushis, as the curse licks your hand, you smile a bit at him.

“What if I named you Sashimi?” It lolls its tongue out, head tilting to the side, and you giggle. “I like it though!”

Suguru finds you sitting with his daughters, who are on either side of you, stirring something in him that should not be there. But it’s undeniable, when you smile softly at them, a smile you’d never shoot his direction. Manami comes and tries to kiss him, which he quickly tilts his head away, but not before you catch him, but your eyes avert and you show no emotion.

Do you feel anything towards him but pure hatred and fear? Has he given you any reason to? Do you feel this odd energy, or is it all in Suguru’s head?

“It wouldn’t look right.” He says. Manami is his best and most loyal assistant, but he can’t stand the thought of anyone touching him.

But you.

And would you ever?

Why does he care?

“Then later, Lord Geto?” She asks, and he eyes her for a moment, her breasts apparent in this low cut blazer.

“I think it best I don’t… divert from trying to have an heir with… my…”

“Your wife?” She finishes, laughing a bit, Suguru’s jaw tenses.

“Best to spend the energy there, get it done.”

“As you say, Lord Geto. What’s on the agenda for today?” He starts to speak, but all he can really think is how much he wants you to hit him again, how just that feels like more than he’s had since long ago.

Annoying girl.

*****

Three days later

Over the next few days, Suguru can’t get enough of your pussy, of your face when he makes you cum, of your scent, of your presence. He hates it, how much he wants you all the time, like you’re some leech that’s sunk into his brain. He constantly calls you in for more, now you’re right in his office, he’s fingering you as you sit on his lap, your legs up on the arms of his enormous leather seat.

“You’re close, aren’t you dumb little monkey?” He whispers, you shake your head, jaw clenched when he pulls his fingers out and you whine pathetically. “Oh, need something?”

“Just fuck me, god.” Your legs are shaking as he’s teasing you with his fingers again, circling your clit, his other hand gripping your breast, squishing it in his hand, cock aching to pump you full.

“Sit on my desk.” He orders, husky toned, you struggle to get up, and he laughs cruelly. “Can’t stand huh? Gotta do everything, don’t I?”

He hoists you up, spreading your thighs then, sinking back into his seat as he eyes your perfect pussy, and he’s so tired of holding back, what he’s been dying to do, as he leans over, fingers pressing into the plush of your thighs. Your eyes go wide when you feel his breath on your clit, making you jerk, this mother fucker inhales you, moaning and shutting his eyes.

“What… are you sniffing me!?” You demand, thighs threatening to close, and Suguru exhales, eyes locking on yours.

“I’m going to fuck you with my mouth.” Those words are far too attractive, as your pussy throbs in response, you try to focus, you hate this psycho, you can’t have him further fucking up your head.

“That’s not how babies are made, Suguru.”

“Orgasms help, remember?” You frown, biting your lower lip, it seems too intimate, it seems like too much, as your hands grip his desk, and your hips arch, his lashes lowering, casting shadows on his cheeks.

“I cum anyway, stop acting like you don’t know that.” You look away, hating even admitting it out loud, and he smirks, chuckling and making you tickle again, as he spreads your puffy lips, watching your pussy drool out wetness more and more.

“Try not to scream too loudly.” You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Oh you’re so full of yourself, I doubt- ah!” He swipes the flat of his tongue from your hole, and then when he tastes your honeyed arousal, it’s over for him.

Moaning, he drags you against him now, closer to his face as he swipes his tongue in, and your head falls back, mouth open in a slutty O as he lavishes you, it feels so good you’re not sure you’ve ever enjoyed something this much. Addictive with each stroke, with each breath, the way his teeth hit you, fuck how his straight nose bumps your engorged clit.

Your hands instinctively grip his silky hair, for the first time you’re touching it, glossy strands in your fingers as you try to pull him off, it’s too good, way too good, this can’t be something you do. He’s licking you up and moaning, tastebuds slid inside your fluttering walls, as you desperately cry out, whining and pulling at his hair for him to detatch his mouth.

“What are you doing!?” You manage to squeak out, and he pulls back just a bit, feeling your little pathetic hands pulling on him, as if you could stop him now, that he has your slick all over his lower face.

The sight of Suguru Geto between your thighs, licking his glossy lips, eyes dilated and drunk off your pussy is far too tempting. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, as your breaths come quicker and quicker, and Suguru exhales right on you, smirking as he watches your tiny clit twitch for him in response.

“Eating your pussy, are you so stupid you don’t know what it is?” You bite your lower lip, glaring now.

“I’ve heard of it, I just… Why do you want to? Remember, you don’t want to ‘prep a monkey’ your exact words.”

“Will you shut up and just…” He pulls you back again, and he’s devouring you, no other word for it, the insane way he licks you, drinks you up, the sounds of him inhaling and slurping obscenely in his office, and you find your hands pulling him closer.

As he feels you press your cunt further in his face, he’s done, cock throbbing in his pants and oozing precum out, making him damn near cum as he feels her clenching his tongue. He dares to look up, tilting his head that you’re still yanking on, your thighs trembling on each side of his raven haired head, as you whimper, hiccuping in pleasure, tears falling from your eyes.

“Close, aren’t you?” He whispers, tauntingly, those violet eyes glinting as you shake your head, and he laughs, just the laugh touching you he sees you’re drooling more and more from your pretty pussy. “No?”

“Don’t like it.” You whisper, he smirks and flicks his tongue one more time, ending you, your orgasm washes all over your body until you are cupping a hand on your face to stop your scream, and he moans again, drinking all your cum that’s pouring down out of you.

“Fuck…” He whispers, more to himself than anything, Suguru loves eating pussy but he never thought a pathetic human would taste like you, your heat burning him, he can hardly delatch his mouth even as you pull on him.

“What even… is that…” You weakly manage, and he slips two fingers through your slick, your hands fall weakly when he leans over now, undoing his robes to reveal his ready cock, thick and heavy, slapping his belly button and leaving sticky white residue on his robes.

“Shut it, useless little human.” You can’t find the energy to scowl, your body is still shaking, trying to recover from all the pleasure he’d brought you. You grip his biceps as he sinks into you, so wet he slips in easily, and you’re so sensitive you almost cum when he slips all the way inside.

“Shit…” Is all you manage, you want to tell him- hurry up or - fuck you- maybe - hate you- but for just a moment he’s got your brain too addled, when he starts fucking you, you’re clinging to him, whining, and you hate yourself for it.

He hates you, as he watches you for once pliant, sweet even, fuck what would it be like if you wanted this fully, if you wanted him?

He can’t think like this, no it’s your pretty face and your sweet taste, he can’t stand how bad he wants to kiss your lips as he spreads you over his desk, pumping in and out of your slick cunt over and over. Your thighs grip him, your hands gripping his arms so tightly, when your head falls back, and he’s kissing and licking your pretty throat.

“Shut you up, it is possible.” He whispers meanly in your ear, and you try to focus, as his tip drags on your spot.

“F-fuck y-you.” He smiles, he smiles, loving just how that sounds, a tiny little mewl of words.

“I am fucking you, should thank me.”

“Never.” He groans now, yanking you down, turning you so you’re bent over his desk, feet dangling like you’re nothing, the way he moves you with his strength is heady, exhilarating, not frightening like it should be.

Suguru is shoving his cock back inside, gripping your wrists behind your back. He can’t take how pretty you look, he needs to stop, it’s easier this way. “Won’t thank me for fucking you? Me, a curse user, you a-”

“Shut up and fuck me then.” You glare, turning your pretty face to him, and he does just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck… stupid, pathetic little thing-mnh…” He busts deep inside you, squeezing your wrists so tightly you can’t even feel them, cum filling you to the brim. He exhales as your head rests on the cool wood, and tears fall.

Why did he have to make you enjoy him more?

Suguru turns you and releases you now, you stumble and the fucker doesn’t even catch you, instead he hovers, lips just an inch from yours, as you struggle to gain any senses. “I hate you, Lord Geto.”

Suguru, could you call him Suguru?

“I don’t even hate you, you’re so insignificant.” He whispers, tilting your chin up, imagining having you taste yourself off his mouth. “Hate is even too good for a nothing like you.”

“I have enough hate for both of us.” You whisper back, before stumbling away, righting yourself, hurriedly walking to the door when he murmurs.

“My meeting tomorrow, you’ll be there.”

You just scowl and walk away, detesting the thought of having to be in a room full of psychos that want you eradicated. “Why?”

“You’re my wife, it’s one of your duties.”

“They want me dead.” He scoffs now.

“And you think I don’t?” You stomp off, slamming the door, Suguru groans as he slumps into the chair, burying his head in his arms on the cherry wood desk, thinking of how much he wishes he did want you dead.

*****

“Are you ready for the meeting?” Manami asks, coldly, and you smile at her then, shaking your head.

“You’re so worried about me, why? I don’t want your cult daddy.”

Manami glares now, tossing back her red locks. “Cult daddy!?”

“Yeah, him, you can have him. What do I fucking care? I am sure he still comes to you plenty, and I won’t stop him.” She blinks once more, mouth open in shock.

“You haven’t… you don’t care if he does?”

“Not one bit.”

“Then why hasn’t he-”

“Let’s go, monkey.” You hear now, and he catches sight of you, in a gorgeous white gown that makes your skin glimmer, you’re far, far too beautiful. For a moment he's standing there, stupidly, thinking of just how good your pussy tasted yesterday, thinking of burying his face back against it, before he shakes it off, clearing his throat. “Did I stutter, human?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go then.” You huff, as Suguru’s assistants eagerly set up the stage he’s to be on, and you’re both behind this dumb fucking curtain. “You’re pretentious as fuck.”

“What did you say?” He demands, brows lowering, and you laugh then, shaking your head.

“A stage, a microphone, as if you’re something so profound, and not some angry little fucking emo bitch.” Suguru glares now, smacking you right in the face, instantly hating himself more when you blink rapidly, and he sees the mark on your face.

You’re both silent then, as he just stares at what he did, but you smile suddenly, as he stutters. “I… you…I should-”

“Thank you,” you cut him off then. “For a moment sometimes I forget how fucking horrible you are.” As you turn away, you’re slipping your hair to the other side of your face, so that it’s even more apparent. “So they can see you treat humans how you should, right? Beneath you.”

Suguru’s heart pounds in his chest now, you’ve slapped him, he’s said the nastiest things, you’ve both declared hate. He’s slaughtered fucking villages, but something about his hand print on your cheek feels just too far. What’s he become, what’s he doing, why does he care if you’re hurt? Soon you and all of useless humanity will be dead.

Even if he keeps you around, who would you have? You’d be some toy, a pretty prisoner for his pleasure. You’re nothing, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.

You look at him curiously, as you wait for him to signal for the curtain to lift, standing so damn strong and proud, you remind him of his friends, of people he’s loved and lost. Your resilience in the face of everything, it’s stupid but admirable, fuck he’s admiring you, he’s…

He’s caring for you.

He’s desiring you more than anyone.

He’s upset that he just hurt you, more upset than you clearly are, what do you expect from a monster, but this, but coldness, cruelty. He’d shown you no affection aside from a small brush of his lips on your shoulder, a kiss on your clit, those were sexual. He doesn’t show you anything else but his cruelty.

“Are you going to start?” You ask, voice not even shaken, wearing his smack like a badge of honor, not sensing the inner turmoil. “Need to hit the other one, make it even or something?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You blink then, and he grabs your face, thumb brushing over raised skin, he’s too strong, you’re too pathetic and small. “Useless, weak, stupid little human.”

You go to open your mouth when he slams his lips against yours, you exhale at the sensation, yanking back in confusion at how your lips tingle, how your heart hammers in your ears. You panic as you feel it, something far different than anything before.

You can’t.

“I’d rather you hit me than kiss me.”

“I bet you would.” He drags you back to his lips again, stumbling as the onlookers from behind see what’s unfolding, mad passionate and angry kisses, teeth clicking, as you bite his lower lip till you draw blood, and he laughs at you.

“Don’t fucking kiss me.” You watch as he touches the blood on his lips, hearing a low moan that makes no sense.

“You have something, there is cursed energy, there has to be.” You laugh at him then, outright, as he studies you in the dark.

“There are no excuses for you, I’m all human. If you like anything about me, even if it’s just my pussy, I’m human.”

He curses under his breath, as you right yourself, and he aches to…

Goddamit Suguru Geto wants to apologize.

To a human, a monkey, someone beneath him, the cause of all wrong with the goddamn world. You all cause it all.

Right?

But he can’t live with smacking you now, it makes him sick, he wonders what younger him would think, would say. He wonders what Satoru would think, but then, Satoru’s long since given up on him, he’s sure. The havoc he’s brought for the past eight years alone is unforgivable, he wonders… is he going too far? But he can’t make those thoughts tangible, not now.

“You can go to your rooms if you wish.” Is all he says, and you look at him in shock again. “If you don’t… feel well now.”

“Why would you care how I feel? I’m a tool.” As you spit his own words back at him, he can do nothing but agree.

“Then let’s begin.” The curtains lift, and it’s a different Suguru than you know, he’s laughing and joking, and pointing, as he spews the most vile things about humans he can, and you’re just sitting there next to him. The few humans he allows look almost as terrified as you do, as you tremble and try to hold it together.

When it’s finally over, you go to head to your chambers, and he pauses you, a hand on your waist, you look up at him curiously. “I’ll have you tonight.”

“Again?” You whisper, he drags you now, away from your chamber, you blink in confusion as he pulls you further down the halls. Mimiko and Nanako wave at you curiously, and he pats their heads and murmurs a fond good night, before taking you by your wrist once more. “Why your room?”

“Why ask endless questions, human?” You go to protest as you enter his room for the first time, but you can’t speak once he’s got you against the door, barred with his arms. “What exactly are you?”

“I’m a human, Lord Geto.”

“That’s what you call me, huh?” Your jaw locks, when he cups your face, right where he hit you prior, you can still feel the shock, the sting.

“I could call you an emo bitch, but you like to smack for that, and I’d like my jaw intact.” He exhales now, forehead resting against yours, once again, too intimate, too close. “Don’t kiss me again, if I can ask anything.”

“You think you get to ask things from me?” You shake your head. “Hate kissing me, huh?”

“Despise it. More than anything.” His lips are a breath away from yours, when he turns you, having you face the door, hands pressed on the cool wood, and he’s slipping your dress up your hips.

“Spread your thighs.” You keep them together, frustrating him to no end.

Imagine if you wanted him.

If this was your choice.

“Fine, stupid little monkey.” He spreads them for you, finding you soaking wet, clicking sounds as his fingers pump in and out, and your head falls back, as you moan out loud.

“I hate you, Suguru.” You whisper softly, he dies then, at the use of his name, from your perfect lips, shoving two fingers inside you to the knuckle, you’re drooling down his hands, down his sleeves.

“I know you do, it’s what humans do, it’s how you create them. Fuck you’re soaked.” You blink as you register his words, as he turns you again, dropping to his knees, you gasp at the sight.

“I’ll cum without it. You don’t have to.” You whisper, knowing this man’s tongue makes you stupid, him on his knees makes you stupid, you can barely function when he puts a leg on his broad shoulder.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up I wondered? But then I realized, this is the only time you do.” He buries his face against your hot, eager pussy again, and you don’t even try to fight it, your head smacks the wall as his mouth finds you.

“It’s the only time I don’t h-hate you completely…” He chuckles, and you damn near laugh at the insanity, when he presses a kiss on your inner thigh, biting it between his teeth as you’re trembling.

“Mutually beneficial.”

“That’s it. The only reason.”

“Right.” He buries his face against you, moaning as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth, and you’re cumming then and there, pulling on this psycho’s silly locks, as he drinks every bit of cum you produce, dying for you to scream his name.

Insanity.

You’re insanity.

He’s humming as he’s got your little clit in his mouth, looking at you under long lush lashes as you cum so hard you nearly fall, clinging to him barely. He drags you down then, slamming you on the floor and shoving his cock fully in, groaning and kissing you once more, you shove at his chest.

“Fuck me, don’t kiss me, d-don’t.”

“You should taste yourself, stupid little pathetic bitch. How good you taste, what you fucking do.” You glare, but he’s kissing you again, as he fucks you, and it’s overwhelming, the dizziness, how good it is, how perfect he feels. “Prefer me to spit it in your mouth?”

“What!?” He spits then, as he holds your mouth open, chuckling darkly.

“Swallow.”

Why do you obey!?

It’s hard to hate a man who eats pussy and fucks like the god he thinks he is, though you’d never fucking let him know.

Suguru can’t get enough of you after that night, not even fucking close, and soon you’re in a whole cult meeting, and you’re cockwarming him. You hate this - you want to hate it at least- you tell yourself, the fact that you’re casually in his lap in front of hundreds of followers, as he’s spewing hatred, all while being shoved deep in your pussy.

You’re soaking him down to his balls, his thighs, as his veiny cock just pulses inside you, unmoving, and you feel how hot your cheeks are, your ears, trying desperately not to move. Suguru hears someone ask about you then, referring to you as a ‘monkey’ and he glares, before flinging a curse in their direction, cock twitching in your tight entrance.

All of this mind you while he has a goddamn creepy one eyed curse just standing with a morbid grin. This psycho holds a meeting while he’s buried eight inches deep in your cunt, with curses and curse users all around, not missing a single word. You look at him and hate him more, and you still hate him, even when you’re left alone, and he finally moves you up and down him.

“F-fuck… feel you… stupid, pathetic pussy so wet?” You shake your head when he lifts you off and spins you, putting you on top of him. He’s fucking up into you now, grabbing your ass as you cling to him on his plush cushions, and the angle feels so good your eyes roll back, head lolling to the side.

“F-fuck you, Suguru.” He groans at that, at his name, picking you up and slamming him down on his sensitive cock, as you eye the creepy ass curse, mumbling - ‘it’s f-fucking watching’.

Suguru laughs then, not a dark chuckle, it’s… real, as he brushes your hair back and flips you on your back for a moment, studying you with mirth in his eyes. For just one moment, as the curse disintegrates, you think… Is there more to him, is that glimmer a piece of who he used to be?

No, there can’t be.

“A whole room watched you sitting on my cock, but you mind the curse?” He’s… being teasing? You just glare, and he laughs again, enjoying it too much, enjoying you far too much.

He should worry about that, but you look too pretty, especially when he folds you in a mating press, making you suck in a breath, eyes wide on him. “This is how babies are best made, how you'll take my cum.”

You just nod weakly, while he's slamming into you, even though you've taken him many times now, the stretch and how deep he hit were too much to take. Your hands grip his back, nails digging in, and he groans at it, as he folds you under his weight, his full lips parted, eyes boring into yours, watching as you struggle to take him.

“You should beg me, for my cum inside you.”

“Hah- n-never.” He glares, pressing harder on the backs of your thighs, fucking you rougher and rougher, until you’re both shattering messes, and he’s cum so deep you feel him everywhere. You shove at him when he lays atop of you after a moment, your thighs falling to the side, as you try to get yourself together. “Beg you? You’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“You can’t keep lying.” He brushes your hair back, jaw locking as he studies your fucked out face. “You fucking love it, me inside you. Bet you have never felt anything better in your shitty human existence.”

Your teeth clench together. “You’re a conceited, arrogant, psychotic, delusional man.”

“That’s all?” He asks, raising a brow.

“With a good dick, yes, that doesn’t matter. How long till you kill me? Till you kill everyone?” He pauses, watching your perfect breasts heave up and down, as your little hands now push on his chest. “Sure, I enjoy it, what do you care, Suguru?”

“I… you just… why do…” How do you make him stutter, a man like him, a puny little girl like you have him on his knees, have him obsessed, you’re all he can even fucking think of.

You can’t fall into this, into him, with his beautiful face and his sad fucking eyes, you can’t fix this man, there’s no fixing the psychotic nature of him. As badly as you want to, as much as you feel that you keep in, that’s brimming to the surface as you lean up on your elbows, and tears make their way out of your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

Suguru pauses, as you can’t hold it back anymore, as he’s pulling back, out of you, making a mess with all of your fluids, making you feel empty. “What does it matter if I enjoy something when I’ll be dead soon? Will you… kill our baby if it’s human too?”

Suguru scowls now, on his knees, as you hastily cover up, hands shaking. “What the fuck do you mean, powers are genetic-”

“No, you don’t know that. What if one kid has em, one doesn’t huh? Gonna kill one of my kids?” He blinks rapidly, opening his mouth as you stand, and he looks up at you. “You better hope I’m long dead if you do, because I will make sure that’s the last thing you ever do.”

“Will you fucking stop?” He is standing now, grabbing your shoulders, as you shake your head, heart ripping into pieces.

“I can’t feel things for you.” You say, more to yourself than him. “Yes, pathetic monkeys feel things. As you said, too much. We cause them, yeah?”

He gulps now, hands squeezing your shoulders too tightly. “Yes, you cause them, all of it. If not for humanity, then-”

“Then what would you do? If a kid doesn’t have any cursed energy?”

“I wouldn’t kill them.” He whispers, and you laugh without humor.

“No, I can’t believe that. Where’s your line, Suguru Geto? Where does this end for you, for anyone?” He pauses as a human girl destroys him with her looks, when you cup his face for just a moment, making his heart falter. “That Suguru I met, he was sweet. I actually had a crush.” Your words speak to something, he’s transfixed, refusing to believe it.

“You were staring at Gojo.” You shake your head and smile.

“That’s what you saw. Yeah, your friend is something to look at for sure. But no, it was you that day I had eyes on. Felt butterflies.” You can’t believe you’re saying it, that he’s… listening, for just a moment. You sigh. “Do you ever miss him? The guy that you were?”

Yes.

No.

He can’t.

Suguru says nothing as you drop your hands, tugging your robes closed. “Can you summon Sashimi?”

“You named it fucking Sashimi?” You glare, a little back to normal, but he dresses, summoning him for you, as you sigh a bit.

“I’m really sore, okay? Can I go rest?” Suguru scoffs, feigning as if he could care less, when he wants you again, more of you, all of you, like a black hole that’s sucking him in deeper and deeper.

“Can’t handle dick with your puny little body?” He taunts, instead of just… Saying it.

“Not this much. You could get your-”

“I don’t go to anyone.” You blink in surprise, as he confirms what you had assumed a bit from Manami.

“Why?”

Suguru scoffs, rolling his violet eyes. “Why!? I don’t have to explain myself to a pathetic-”

“Yeah, never mind. Come on Sashimi.” You walk off, leaving him to swipe a hand across his face, your scent is all over him, your slick still on his cock, his fingers still taste like you.

“Fuck.” He grumbles, as his room spins, as he’s covered in you, consumed by you, wondering…

Did he miss who he was?

No, surely not. He sets his jaw, you’ve taken so much of his mind, and he has much to do, heading to his room alone, but he can’t focus, all he does is stare at his ceiling, thinking of you, of your words. Your face, your body, your eyes that see right fucking through him.

God, Suguru hates you.

A/N LMAO why did I think I could do anything short? I need four parts now not three my baddd babess lol. But I hope you're enjoying psycho whipped Sugu- the monkey thing should lessen as he gets more pathetic hehe. Tysm for all the comments and love !?! I am excited to see what ya'll think hehe

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[cosmosluckycharms]

Show☆Time

Why do I cry?

You finally got your stupid little stage.

You didn't think it was stupid, but everyone you know told you it was a dumb idea.

When you told your father, all he did was hand you his credit card without looking and go back to working on his computer.

When you told Dick, all he did was ruffle your hair and walk away and promise he would be your first fan.

You knew it wasn't true, he never followed up on his promises. He had better things to do anyway.

When you told Jason, all he did was put his earbuds into his ears and go back to reading.

When you told Tim, all he did was tell you to shut up and left to his room.

When you told Damian, all he did was scoff and go back to painting.

At least Alfred tried to pay attention to your ideas, even if you knew it was out of pity.

You knew deep down none of them believed in you.

People not believing never stopped you from achieving your dreams.

You spent countless hours at your stage preparing and cleaning fixing and practicing moves.

You spent a while trying to bring in other performers You couldn't find any.

Not until you found Tsukasa Tenma.

He had just gotten rejected from being a performer at a theme park, so you took him in.

As soon as you showed him the stage, you knew he didn't believe in you either.

But you could try and make him believe!

You begged him to reconsider his quitting before he started, and you promised people a show!

While Tsukasa was leaving, you accidentally clicked a song on his playlist labeled UNTITLED.

You got transported to your Sekai, a world right at your fingertips.

You found out that the sekai was made of Tsukasa's true feelings.

You were so curious and excited!

You decided not to tell anyone in your family.

You knew they wouldn't care either way, it wouldn't hurt to keep this one small thing a secret☆

Once you guys left the Sekai, you ran into your next group member a purple-haired boy named Rui!

You watched as small little robot animatronics crowded around him.

..You also watched as he got chased by the police.

Tsukasa ended up bringing Rui again

Soon enough, that friend brought in another friend.

Sure, she was a robot named Robo-Nene, but you'll take anything at this point!

Everything was going well!

Tsukasa had stayed up finishing the script for your play.

Rui had been setting things up.

Nene stayed up practicing for the show you guys were doing.

Because she stayed up while practicing, she forgot to charge her robot.

That wouldn't be an issue if the robot hadn't frozen up on stage and fallen on Tsukasa.

Suddenly everything was falling apart.

Nene was being yelled at by Tsukasa.

Rui was yelling at Tsukasa for yelling at Nene

You didn't know what to do.

You started this because you wanted everyone happy, only for everyone to be sad and mad.

No one was smiling.

You ran home.

You didn't know what to do.

You finally got to the manor, on the verge of tears.

For the first time, you expected and hoped that as soon as you went inside, you could be ignored like always and slip away to your room till dinner.

You didn't realize that on the door there was a water bucket prank meant for your father, by the bat kids due to a prank war happening between them.

You didn't even know there was a prank war going on.

You walked in and immediately were surrounded by everyone while a bucket of cold water hit you.

You see everyone staring at you shocked, clearly not expecting you to walk through the door.

You could hear them start to laugh a little.

You fumbled as you tried to get up from your sitting position.

You felt a tear run down your cheek.

Then another.

Then another.

Soon enough, fat globs of tears were falling.

Huh.

Why were you crying?

You told yourself you wouldn't cry anymore, so why do you keep crying?

It couldn't have just been from the prank, you would not have cried if it was just a regular day.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn't a regular day.

You didn't know if your dreams were falling apart.

You didn't know what to do.

You got up and walked to your room.

Everyone was shocked. They'd never seen you cry.

For all they knew you were a cheerful girl, one who never cried.

You didn't see you cry when you missed your mom.

They didn't see you cry when you missed your grandpa.

They just stared as you walked upstairs in your dramatic performer costume.

They don't even remember you buying that, Where did you get that from?

You just wanted to go home back to your Sekai.

hi guys ik technically you guys wanted a pt 6 of Bug Like Angel but my emu!reader fans have been neglected soooooo

kinda short isigh

taglist:@shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss @tsxukikami @d3sperate-enuf @staarflowerr @chaoticmoontimetravel @crazycaoticsimp

[norikuna]

UNADULTERATED LOATHING ! ☓. ── ( 五条 悟, gojo satoru )

⌗ dazzling starlet, bardot reincarnatе. well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist ? you have an effect on gojo satoru, and he tells you that it's pure, unadulterated loathing. but why does his heart say otherwise?

ᯓ starring ─ ﹙ 五条 悟 : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ the strongest x reader

𝓳𝓳𝓴. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. sfw. wicked!au. enemies to lovers, gojo is SO in love, mutual pining, this is just a one-shot, like a quick snippet. wc ⌓. 2k.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ( author says ) i finally watched wicked and i was listening to olivia rodrigo's lacy

you push through the doors of your long awaited assigned dormitory, already dreaming of the quiet solitude that's ready for you. that blissful moment when you can drop your bags, sink into the comfort of your room, and finally crack open that hefty book in your bag.

but the moment that you step aside, that dream dies a swift and unceremonious death. this room is a disaster. a veritable storm of pale blue, navy, and stark white sprawls across every available surface that the eye can take in. clothes draped over chairs, video game casings cracked open at odd angles, and half-finished letters abandoned in precarious piles. there's even a pair of sunglasses littered on the floor, so very close to polished tips of your new boots.

you just inhale sharply, already bracing yourself for the worst as you round the heavy trunk that blocks your path. only to collide, at full, devastating force into a solid, broad chest.

a firm plane of muscle that belongs to none other than the golden boy, gojo satoru.

and god, how your head snaps up in horror. his ever-present sunglasses are pushed up to his white hair, exposing a pair of sharp and wary eyes. bright and assessing, and currently locked onto you as if your very presence is the final act of some awful cosmic joke.

for a long and weighty moment, neither of you speak. there's a realisation settling between the two of you like a stone dropped into deep water. the administration truly did not make a mistake, gojo satoru was your new roommate.

"do you really think this is fair?" you ask, voice a tad weaker than you had hoped.

gojo just exhales through his nose, as if he's suffering through tragedies untold, "i do not." but his voice is melodic, smooth, as he straightens his spine so the very uppermost tufts of his snowy hair brush the ceiling, "as i was promised a private suite. but thanks for asking."

your eyes fall back skywards, stepping past him to assess your new surrounding. manoeuvring carefully through this...mess. gojo, for his part, seems content to move aside and keep his distance. he's just watching you in the large, oaken vanity, fiddling with his already-perfect hair.

casual, far too casual. he's suspicious, you realise. which, considering your mutual dislike, is quite fair.

still, it seems as though he's eager to make a show of his generosity. gojo's leaning away from the mirror, "i saved you some space, by the way." gesturing a long limb towards the farthest, least appealing corner of the room, where a diminutive daybed sits awkwardly beside a tiny, lopsided table with exactly one draw. your eyes fall on gojo's own bed, a rather ornate and gilded piece with curtans. ugh, what a diva.

gojo somehow must be mistaking your stony grimace for gratitude, for he's smiling. all beatific and cherubic, as though he's a saint sent down from the heavens above, "it was nothing. roommates do these things for each other, after all."

your eyes meet jewel-blue, still watching as gojo basks in your silent outrage. he's stretching his arms out luxuriously, kicking up his own boots onto a plush, cornflower blue ottoman.

you're going to strangle gojo satoru in his sleep. but had you not turned away from the walking waste of oxygen, you might have noticed the sudden, red flush that plastered itself onto gojo's alabaster skin — crawling up his neck until it tickled at his ears.

the room is now steeped in candlelight, the soft glow of gojo's lamp casting a cool, blue hue over everything. shadows flicker along the walls, elongating the handsome angles of his face as he lounges at his desk, twirling a navy feather-quill between his fingers. the fine parchment before him still lays untouched, for his gaze keeps drifting to you.

you, curled up on your far end of the room on your bed, bathed in the tired amber glow of your own lamp. gojo just watches as you're lost in your own careful strokes of ink on dry parchment. and he hates to admit it, loathes to even bestow upon you this grace, but he's fascinated by the sight of you — the most brilliant (if odd) peer in this damn cohort.

you write the way people pray, head bowed and utterly absorbed as each word is something sacred. your lashes cast long shadows on your cheeks, and gojo just gnaws at the soft flesh in his own mouth. enraptured by the parting of your lips lost in thought.

gojo satoru has seen beautiful things before, no-one raised in the illustrious gojo clan hasn't, but this is something else. something he can't quite name, and he fears that he hates you for the hold you have over him.

"to whom it may concern at the ol' gojo clan. guess what?" gojo finally begins, scrawling the words onto his letters without much thought. pretending to make a big show of tapping his chin, kicking back against his bed.

but across the room, you're so, so adamant to barely acknowledge gojo. forgoing his desire for constant attention to be rather focused on your own letter to home, "my dear father. thank you for agreeting to let me stay."

gojo's exhaling dramatically, head lolling back onto his tired neck, "i can't hear your guesses because this is a letter. so i'll just tell you."

silence stretches between the two of you, filled only by the faint rustling of paper, and the distant sound of laughter from the courtyard below. gojo's fingers tap out a restless rhythm against the wood of his bedside table. you're still refusing to acknowledge him, still wrapped up in your letter, and gojo — who has spent his entire life commanding love and affection, expecting it, feels something like irritation curl in his chest. or maybe it's something else entirely.

he tries again, and unbeknownst to the lovestruck gojo, you're penning the exact same words on your own letters.

"there's been some confusion over rooming here at school."

you're suddenly glancing over at him, and gojo bites his heavy tongue at the flicker of exasperation flashing through your eyes. watching as you sigh, and shake your head, "but of course," you scrawl, "i'll focus on my studies."

gojo's lips twitch, "but of course, i'll rise above it."

it seems that neither of you are aware that you are both writing in tandem now, so very synchronised as gojo dips his quill lazily into that half-empty ink pot, "for i know that's how you'd want me to respond."

gojo watches from you from behind the rim of his sunglasses, shameless in his greed for the sight of you, and utterly fascinated. the delicate furrow of your brow, the way your fingers tap absently against the desk when you pause to think. he knows people. he understands them.

but you? you are a riddle wrapped in something unfairly lovely, a puzzle he isn't even sure he's able to solve, because maybe knowing would make the mystery less intoxicating. gojo briefly wonders why he feels as though he's about to hurl.

"yes, there's been some confusion, for you see, my roommate is..."

gojo pauses, contemplating, for how does one describe you? how does anyone categorise something so strangely, annoyingly captivating?

you are contradictions woven into the shape of a person. sharp and soft, cold and brilliant, distant but so alive. he wants to say infuriating or prickly or entirely too self-serious, but none of those words quite capture the way that gojo's world seems to tilt slightly whenever you shoot him that unimpressed look.

"unusually and exceedingly peculiar, and altogether quite impossible to describe."

but you? you have very little hesitation. your quill barely lingering before you hastily scribble away, "blonde."

scratching the quill against the cheap parchment in a single stroke, amending yourself, "or rather, silver-haired and silver-tongued. yet, all too lacking for wit or decency."

and so you gently blow on the drying ink, neatly creasing the letter as you do your best not to meet gojo satoru's eyes. isn't he just too much? too loud, too arrogant, too sure of himself?

gojo satoru walks into a room as though it belongs to him, like the air bends around him and gravity itself is an afterthought to the heir of the gojo clan.

and god, you hate the way that your eyes must betray you first, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw or the effortless sway of his posture. the way his silver-white hair falls perfectly, no matter how carelessly he runs a hand through it. you hate, truly loathe the way gojo tilts his head when he's pretending to listen, or the way pink lips curl when he's about to say something that will drive you absolutely nuts.

you tell yourself that you find him irritating, not intoxicating. that you're unmoved, not entranced. that you don't notice the absurd prettiness of the school's golden boy, that annoyingly, careless confidence and the way he seems to puncture the air out of your lungs.

gojo's snowy head jerks, as though he can hear your thoughts. eyes narrowing behind dark lenses as he folds his own letter and tucks it into the pocket of his uniform jacket. you just school your features, and shoot him a seething look as though you did not just spend the last five minutes memorising every single detail of his face.

it's just loathing. pure, unadulterated loathing.

[littlelamy]

hi hi im the one who sent in this request and it was soooo cute and amazing!! 🫶🏼 https://www.tumblr.com/littlelamy/774574917885870080/thinking-about-rafe-being-more-involved-with

thinking about how rafe comes up with excuses to come and pick up his niece from school too nervous to ask reader out (which is rare for him) maybe his niece teasing him when he comes to pick her up and says something like “do you have a crush on my teacher?” (insert rafe nickname that sarahs niece has for him) and maybe reader overhears and the next time he sees her he has the courage to ask her out for coffee or something

lamy's note: i'm thinking of making a moodboard for teacher!reader 🤔 lmk if you want to see that!!!

the school parking lot is full of minivans and suvs, parents lingering in small clusters, making conversation as their kids race toward them, backpacks bouncing. rafe cameron stands out.

not just because he rolls up in his truck like he owns the place, but because he’s here. again. picking up his niece when he knows damn well sarah and john b could do it. hell, even kiara had done it once. but here he is, gripping the steering wheel, heart hammering against his ribs like he’s about to do something much more dangerous than escorting an eight-year-old home.

he spots her before she spots him. his niece, grinning ear to ear, waving wildly as she skips toward him. rafe barely has time to step out of the truck before she launches herself at him.

“you’re early this time!” she says, hands on her hips like she’s scolding him.

rafe smirks, ruffling her hair. “yeah, yeah. figured i’d beat the rush.”

she eyes him, suspicious. “you figured or you wanted to see ms. y/l/n?”

rafe freezes. caught.

his niece giggles, eyes gleaming with pure mischief. “do you have a crush on my teacher, uncle rafey?” she sing-songs, loud enough to make his stomach drop.

rafe glances around like it might save him. and of course—because the universe clearly hates him—you’re standing a few feet away, close enough to have heard every damn word.

shit.

he watches as you bite back a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. his niece is still grinning up at him like she’s just won the lottery. he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “uh, go get your stuff,” he mutters, nudging her toward the car.

she skips off, still giggling, and then it’s just you and him. rafe exhales, shaking his head. “they don’t teach these kids anything about privacy, huh?”

you laugh, and god, he thinks he’d embarrass himself every day if it meant hearing that sound. “she’s got a good intuition, i’ll give her that.”

rafe huffs out a breath, gathering every ounce of his usual cocky confidence. “since i’m already outed, might as well make it count.” he looks at you, really looks at you, and lets the words come out before he can talk himself out of it. “you wanna get coffee sometime?”

there’s a pause, not long enough to make him sweat, but just enough for his heart to stutter. then you smile, tilting your head slightly. “are you asking, or is your niece asking for you?”

rafe laughs, shaking his head. “i’m asking. promise.”

“good,” you say, crossing your arms. “because i would’ve said yes either way.”

rafe grins, and he swears he’s never been this nervous for anything in his entire life. not even when ward used to look at him like he was nothing. not even when he thought he’d never be good enough. but right now, with you smiling at him like he’s already won? yeah. he thinks this might be the best risk he’s ever taken.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

[stollengoods]

Broken Promises

REQ. Thagyu Angst & Smut

Thanos x Nam-gyu x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Physical and emotional abuse, Cursing, Homophobic slurs, Threesome, & Smut.

Summary: You’re two best friends are always there to comfort you when your current boyfriend says something insulting and/or hurtful to you. One day your boyfriend gets a bit physical with you and when you tell Nam-gyu and Thanos this, they tell you he doesn’t deserve you and proposes for you to join their relationship to become a throuple.

————

You sat on the couch with your boyfriend, John. His arm laid over the back of the couch as his legs were propped up on the coffee table in front of you guys. You had convinced him to watch the movie ‘White Chicks’ with you.

It was one of your favorites and he’s never seen it so you were excited, especially since he didn’t seem to be in one of his moods today. You guys laughed here and there, until you made a comment that changed the rest of your evening.

“And to think, if that dog wouldn’t have slipped out the window none of this would’ve happened.” You giggled, looking over at your boyfriend.

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he looked over at you, he didn’t say anything so you continued to explain yourself.

“Like at the beginning the dog going out the window of the car is what caused the car crash and made the two women get “scars” on their faces so they couldn’t-“

He cut you off, the crease in his eyebrows furrowing, “What are you even saying ?”

You broke eye contact with him, starring at your hands.

He grunted, “See this is why I don��t want to introduce you to my friends. You say shit thinking you sound so clever and witty but you just sound stupid.”

You felt the pit in your stomach sink as your heart deflated at his words. Your eyes prickled with tears as you focused your attention back to the movie. You tried to focus on the plot as your favorite scene was about to come up, were the main characters were about to breakdance against the two mean girls but all you could think about was the words your boyfriend had just spoken to you.

Your boyfriend could sense your sudden change in mood and tried to ignore it at first until he put his arm around you and felt your body stiffen instead of leaning into his side.

He sighed in annoyance, “Are you seriously mad about what I said earlier ?”

You didn’t look at him, “No. I’m just feeling tired.” You tried playing it off like you weren’t hurt at all by his words because you knew he didn’t actually care and would most likely ridicule you more so you just tried to defuse the situation.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod his head and then his face crept closer as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You flinched away as you felt his lips graze your skin and looked at him in a peculiar way.

Instantly you regretted your unconscious reaction, when he pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling in irritation. You really wanted this night to just be over with and go as smoothly as possible without you guys having another big argument but you couldn’t make yourself cozy up to your boyfriend especially when he made you feel so small around him.

“You can’t take any fucking criticism…”

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat, because you knew were this was headed and you couldn’t take anymore verbal cruelty from him.

You stood up making your way around the couch to grab your keys from the rack next to the front door but your boyfriend was faster than you and beat you too it. He snatched them off the hook and you squeezed your eyes shut both in anger and to keep yourself from crying on the spot.

“John.” You said firmly, holding your palm out, “Give me my keys.”

You didn’t want to look into his eyes, “Where do you think you’re going ?” He stated with a tone of cockiness.

“John.” You said, raising your voice a bit.

He laughed in amusement as he walked over into the kitchen area. Your hands balled into fists as you followed him into the kitchen, when he turned around you finally got the courage to look into his eyes.

“John.” You seethed through clenched teeth, “Give me my fucking keys. Now.”

He smirked, his eyes full of enjoyment as he jangled them above your head. “What ? These ?”

You looked up at the keys as he continued, “They’re right here, just grab them.”

Your rage overpowered your feelings of sadness as you snatched his arm yanking it down.

He hissed at the feeling of your nails sinking into his skin, “Aish you fucking-“ He used his free arm along with his body strength to throw you off of him and to the side.

You let out a yelp of pain as the island countertop rammed into your lower back and you instantly fell to the floor. Your boyfriend got down to your level, showing you his arm. “Look what you did to me you little bitch.” He pointed to the indents your nails dug into him along with a few tiny scratch marks resulting from him throwing you off of him.

His hand trembled with rage and you could see for a second in his fury filled eyes he wanted to really hit you but decided against it as he stood up.

“Go see your faggot ass friends.” He spat, “See if I fucking care.” He threw the keys at you and you groaned as you felt the impact of it hit your stomach.

He walked away from you still talking, “… Just be sure to tell them the whole damn story this time !” He shouted before slamming the bedroom door behind him.

————

On the drive over to your friend’s place you allowed yourself to finally cry. Surprisingly, the blurriness from your tears didn’t make it hard for you to see as you were sort of used to this routine by now. Your boyfriend has a short temper and usually says something insulting making you leave and go see your friends.

Your friends, Nam-gyu and Thanos, have met your boyfriend once and never again after that. It was when you guys first started dating and your boyfriend insisted that he meet your friends. Especially since they were both guys, you tried to tell him that they were dating each other but he wasn’t having it.

Mostly due to the fact that you told him you had originally met Thanos on a dating app. He asked how that was possible if he was gay and you told him that they were both bisexual. That’s when he insisted on meeting your two guy friends.

After the hang out with your friends and boyfriend, your boyfriend confessed to you that he felt very uncomfortable around them. He accused them of flirting with him and trying to hit on him in front of you.

You were baffled because you were there and didn’t get any hints or signs of either one of them hitting on him but your boyfriend insisted that they were and that you were too naïve to see it.

You never told Nam-gyu or Thanos about what your boyfriend had said but they didn’t have positive things to say about your boyfriend either. Nam-gyu told you that the vibe he got from your boyfriend gave him a similar one to a boyfriend he dated back in college.

The boyfriend turned out to be a raging dick but Nam-gyu said that it could be nothing and he could just be projecting. Fast forward three months and seven visits to their house later, you come to realize maybe he was onto something.

You wiped your tears as you made your way up the steps to their home, using the spare key they gave you to let yourself in. You heard the tv on in the living room as you turned the corner to greet them.

Thanos was butt ass naked on the couch with his head thrown back as Nam-gyu was kneeled between his legs sucking him off.

“I’m so sorry.” You panicked, almost running into the wall beside you, covering your face with your hands.

Thanos head snapped forward as he blinked a couple of times before he pulled Nam-gyu off of him by his hair.

Nam-gyu looked up at him and saw that Thanos was pale in the face. He followed his gaze and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw you trying to hide your face with your arms.

“Oh my fuck- y/n-“ Nam-gyu said startled from your presence as he began collecting his clothes and pulling them on along with his boyfriend Thanos.

“I’m so so sorry.” You apologized, your voice strained and cracking from all the crying you did on the way there.

Nam-gyu pulled your arms away from your face and you peeled your eyes open to see him and Thanos now fully clothed.

“You’re crying.” Nam-gyu stated, as his hands cupped the sides of your face and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from under your eyes.

You sniffled and Nam-gyu instantly gave you a hug as you wrapped your arms around him, crying into the crook of his neck. You felt Thanos chest against your back as he hugged you from behind, his arms wrapping around you and Nam-gyu.

“Shhh…” Nam-gyu whispered, “It’s okay. You’re with us, everything’s going to be okay.”

Once you lifted your head from his shoulder, they both released you, giving you some space. “I should go, I don’t mean to interrupt-“

You turned to leave and Thanos blocked you, “Y/n don’t be silly, we’re your friends, we want to be there for you.”

“I know.” You chocked out, “… but there’s a time and a place. You guys have your own lives to worry about I shouldn’t-“

Nam-gyu put a hand on your shoulder, “Life isn’t always perfect, theres not always going to be the perfect time or place to do something and that is okay. Talk to us y/n, let us help you.”

“Yeah.” Thanos chimed in and you looked up at him, “If you leave now, we’re only going to worry more.”

You wiped your nose with the cuff of your sleeve while nodding your head, “Okay.” You replied meekly.

Nam-gyu ushered you over to the couch, him sitting to your right as Thanos sat on your left.

“Now.” Nam-gyu said, using one of his hands to rub your back, “Tell us what happened.”

You told them what had started the fight between you two and how you tried to grab your keys to leave but your boyfriend snatched them before you could. Nam-gyu and Thanos gave a each other a look when you paused at the part were your boyfriend was basically dangling your keys in front of you.

You didn’t continue for a few seconds and Nam-gyu decided to speak up. “Y/n… ?”

Your head snapped over to meet his eyes, “Right. Sorry.” You blew out a breathe before continuing, “I then grabbed his arm to get my key but then he suddenly threw me against the countertop. I felt a sharp pain in my back resulting in my knees buckling and having me fall to the floor.”

“Wait.” Thanos deep voice sounded upset, “He hit you ?!”

“No.” You licked your dry lips, “H-he threw me in a result to me grabbing his arm.”

“Y/n, hit you or threw you, who gives a fuck, he still put his fucking hand on you !” Thanos was in disbelief.

You turned to him, your eyes trying to blink back tears, “Technically I put my hands on him first and if you saw his arm I did leave a few scratches- he was bleeding-“

Thanos ran a hand down his face before burying his head in his hands.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to face Nam-gyu. “Y/n what Thanos is trying to say is, there is never, in no circumstance, a reason a man should ever lay hands on a woman. Ever.”

“But what about self defense ?”

“That’s not fucking self defense.” You heard Thanos say, “That’s him being a pussy.”

Thanos lifted the back of your shirt to reveal a dark purple bruise starting to form on your lower back. He lightly grazed it with his finger.

“What are you doing ?” You asked trying to see what he was looking at.

“Y/n… this looks awful…”

Nam-gyu got up from his seat and kneeled down beside him, “Oh my.”

You saw Nam-gyu’s expression fill with concern and instantly felt a sense of shame for trying to defend your boyfriend’s actions.

Nam-gyu resumed his position next to you on the couch again and held your hands in his. “If a man ever touches you it should be with such care and grace y/n.” He whispered as his thumbs ran over the top of your hands.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions at the moment. Shame, guilt, anger, sadness, but when Nam-gyu or Thanos would touch you; you felt love and tenderness. You felt that they truly meant what they said and so when you followed that feeling by attaching your lips to Nam-gyu’s you hadn’t realized what you’d done until you felt Nam-gyu instantly pull away.

Your hands slipped out of his hands to cover your mouth, “Oh- oh my- I- that was…”

You looked over to see Thanos and he looked just as shocked as Nam-gyu had.

“I-I should go.” You quickly got up but Thanos pulled you back down by your arm.

“Thanos I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t have done that-“

Thanos cut you off by leaning in and kissing you, your eyes shot open in surprise until they slowly blinked closed.

He pulled away and you looked at him through half lidded eyes, your head a bit dazed.

“Y/n, can I ask you something ?” Thanos said, his hands now holding yours.

“Anything.” You breathed.

You saw a small smile form on his face, “Have you ever thought about polyamory ?”

You finally snapped out of it, looking down at his hands that caressed yours, “In what sense ? Like a threesome ?”

You heard Nam-gyu burst out laughing behind you as Thanos’s smile widened trying to keep it together, “Well… not exactly. I mean like being in an actual relationship with more than one person.”

“Are you saying I should suggest this to John ?” You tilted your head in confusion, “I think that would just make things worse, he already thinks I’m cheating on him. If I suggest we be open to dating other people while dating each other he’d be furious.”

“No, that’s not-“ Thanos sighed, “I’ll just say it.”

He interlocked one of your hands as he began, “We wanted to wait until you would break up with that asshole to propose this, because at the end of the day we want you to make your own decisions.”

You squinted your eyes, “Okay…”

“Y/n. You are truly one of our best friends and we hate to see you stuck in a relationship like this with someone who doesn’t know your worth.”

Nam-gyu hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Thanos gave him a wink before continuing, “And we were wondering if you would be apart of our relationship ?”

You chuckled in disbelief, “Wait. Huh ?”

“You heard him.” Nam-gyu said, as you felt his fingers began to tickle your stomach.

You instantly snapped your hands away from Thanos as you laughed hysterically. You tried to pry his hands away but he was relentless, you pushed back against him trapping his back against the couch as you flipped over on top of him.

“You fucking asshole !” You panted, giggling while slapping his chest repeatedly with the cuff of your sleeve.

He chuckled, trying to block your attacks with his hands. “Okay, I’m sorry ! I’m sorry !”

You eased up on him, smirking with victory.

“So what you do say ?” Nam-gyu asked with half a smile on his face.

You paused for a second trying to remember what you guys were talking about, “You guys want me to join your relationship, in like what way ?”

“Like this.” Nam-gyu grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer on top of him as he held your face only a few centimeters from his. You could feel his breathe on your lips and you swallowed.

“So…” he licked his lips and you felt it graze your bottom lip slightly, “What do you say ?”

For the second time that night you kissed Nam-gyu and this time he didn’t pull away. His hands adjusted you better on top of him as you pulled away for a split second to slip off your shirt.

You felt a pair of hands grip the hem of your sweats and shimmy them down your thighs until they settled around your knees. The cold air hit your ass and clit making you shiver. Thanos ran a finger over your slit and sighed. He then inserted one finger, quickly adding another not long after and you began pushing back against him lightly.

You placed a hand on Nam-guy’s chest to hold yourself up and he gripped your wrist dragging your hand to be placed over his throat.

“Please ?” Nam-gyu begged, his eyes pleading with you.

You lightly gripped his throat, surprised by how much you enjoyed doing it to a man, usually you were the one on the receiving end.

Nam-gyu’s eyes rolled back as they fluttered closed and you felt yourself aroused at the sight. You forgot about the man behind you until you felt his fingers pull out of you. You whimpered, arching your back whining for more.

You felt his bare chest against your back as he whispered into your ear, “Do you want me Y/n ?”

You nodded your head and he slapped your bum, his voice a bit husky now. “Speak.”

“Y-yes, I want you, please Thanos…” The grip on Nam-guy’s neck loosened as your head fell into the crook of his neck.

Thanos got up from the couch and removed the rest of his clothing. He climbed back over you, gripping his dick and teasing your clit with it before pushing himself in. Your chest was now fully against Nam-gyu’s as you arched your back even more for Thanos.

Thanos started off slowly, his hands on either side of your hips, helping you stay in place. Your chin is propped up on Nam-gyu’s chest and would rub against his skin as Thanos sped up his thrusts. Nam-gyu used his finger to move the hair away from your face and your glazed over eyes watched as he did so.

Your hand fumbled around until you felt Nam-gyu’s hard on through his pants, stroking it. His hips bucked up at the friction releasing a whimper. Thanos stilled his movements in you, reaching over and seized your wrist in each on of his hands. He continued pounding into you and your lower body trembled against him.

“Did I say you can touch him ?” He snapped, his thrusts railing into you much harder.

You could barely make out what he was saying over your pornographic moans. Nam-gyu’s hard on was now poking through his pants at your abdomen. He then used his fingers to tuck your hair behind your ears.

Thanos just smirked as he released your wrists and they sagged to your sides. He stilled in you as he reached over collecting your hair into one of his hands. He pulled your head to the side and kissed your lips. You tried your best to kiss him back but mostly let out moans as your ass desperately pushed against his pelvis.

He moved back, his other arm around your stomach as he moved you with him. Thanos and you were a perfect 90 degree angle to Nam-gyu who laid beneath you guys. He continued thrusting up into you and Nam-gyu watched; looking from Thanos dick sliding in and out of you to your tits bouncing above him.

Nam-gyu slipped his hands beneath his pants, past his underwear, using his pre-cum for lube as he began stroking himself.

Thanos’s grip on your hair only tightened as his thrusts became sloppier and quicker. You were drooling at this point as he repeatedly hit your g-spot perfectly at this angle. Your salvia trailed down your chest, to your abdomen, to your pussy adding just a pinch more lubercation, not that you needed any.

The pace of Nam-gyu’s strokes quickened as his moans made harmony with your own. His legs tensed beneath you as you saw a dark spot form on the front of his pants. His chest rising and falling as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Your release followed soon after as you felt Thanos’s warm cum enter you. Thanos released his hands from you and you slumped forward, him following suit as you guys piled up on Nam-gyu. He didn’t seem to mind as one hand played with your hair and the other played with Thanos’s.

“As soon as I break up with John.” You breathed, “I would happily be in a relationship with you guys.

Nam-gyu gave you the biggest smile as you felt Thanos’ head nod against your back before placing a quick kiss on it.

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Price of Fame

Description: Fame. Jealousy. Betrayal. When a photo of Pedro Pascal and his co-star goes viral, you long year relationship is pushed to its breaking point. Can you two overcome the storm and find your way back to each other?

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Warnings ⚠️: adult content, established relationship, explicit scenes, strong language, hot and heavy scenes, and some relationship rollercoaster moments, oral sex (f rec), unprotected sex, sex, SMUT.

You've been warned! 😉

Word count: 1800

"I'm so excited for you, Pedro," you said, wrapping your arms around Pedro's neck as he finished packing his bag.

The sun streamed through the window, painting the room in a warm, golden light. "Alabama, huh? That's gonna be amazing."

Pedro chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Yeah, it's pretty wild. Marvel's going all out with this Fantastic Four launch. Saturn 5 rocket, live stream… the whole spectacle."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "I'm going to miss you this week. It's going to be a whirlwind."

"I'll miss you too," you replied, a small pang of longing hitting you. "Wish I could be there, cheering you on. But, you know, deadlines."

You gestured towards your laptop bag. "Work calls."

Pedro kissed you softly. "I know. But I'll be thinking of you. I'll text you as soon as I can after the trailer launch. Maybe we can do a video call later in the week?"

"Definitely," you said, smiling. "Show 'em what you've got, Papi! And try not to cause too much chaos with the other superheroes."

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"No promises. But seriously, I'll call you." He grabbed his bag, gave you one last lingering kiss, and headed out the door.

He was staying at your place for the weekend, and now he was off to Alabama.

You watched him go, a mix of excitement for him and a little bit of sadness at his leaving swirling inside you. You knew this was part of his life, the premieres, the press junkets, the constant travel. And most of the time, you were okay with it. But sometimes, like now, you just wished you could be there with him, sharing those moments.

The phone buzzed in your work desk.

You glanced at the caller ID – Mi Amor.  A smile tugged at your lips.  You slipped away from your desk for a moment and answered.

"Hey, Papi" you said softly, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice so your colleagues wouldn't suspect anything.

"Hey, babe," Pedro's voice was a little muffled, like he was cupping the phone. "Just got here. It's… well, it's a spectacle, like I said. You have to see this.  Don't miss it, okay?"

"I promised I wouldn't," you replied. "I'm trying to watch at my desk, but work is… well, work." You could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and chatter in the background.  Someone – you thought it might be Vanessa – said something you couldn't quite make out, followed by another burst of laughter.  A tiny flicker of jealousy sparked within you, but you quickly tamped it down.  It's his job, you reminded yourself. They're co-stars.  It's all part of the show.

"Okay, good," Pedro said. "Just wanted to make sure. I gotta go, they're about to start. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," you said. "Have fun, Papi. Shine bright my love!"

"Will do," he said, and the line went dead.

You returned to your desk, your heart still fluttering a little. You pulled up the live stream on your computer and managed to catch the very beginning of the launch, the booming voice introducing the cast, the roar of the crowd.  Then, just as Pedro was about to speak, your phone rang – a client call you couldn't ignore.  With a sigh, you minimized the live stream, promising yourself you'd catch the rest later.  But as the day wore on, work kept piling up, and you knew you wouldn't be able to watch it live.

As your workday finally wrapped up, your best friend and colleague, Sarah, sidled over to your desk, looking a little worried. "Hey," she said, her voice low. "Everything okay with you and Pedro?  I mean…"

"Yeah, why?" you asked, a little confused. "Everything's fine.  Why?"

Sarah grimaced. "Just… take a look at this." She shoved her phone in front of your face. It was a picture on Instagram – Pedro and Vanessa Kirby, his co-star, all cozied up. Pedro was leaning his head on her shoulder, and they were both grinning. 

A hot flash of… something… went through you.  Jealousy? Anger?  You tried to brush it off. He's always like that with everyone, you told yourself. It's just Pedro being Pedro. But the picture stuck in your head.

Your phone started buzzing like crazy. Instagram.  You knew it.  You checked, and your stomach dropped.

Comments on your pictures with Pedro. 

💬"He's a jerk." 💬"He dumped you, lol." 

And then, the real low blows:

💬"You cuckold."

💬"He's been cheating on you, bet." 

💬"You were never in his league." 

Ouch. They were just words on a screen, but they still stung like hell.

Then you saw it – the same picture Sarah had shown you, now splashed all over the news sites. 

"Pedro Pascal and Vanessa Kirby: New Couple Alert?" the headlines screamed.

The articles were full of gossip about their "obvious chemistry" and how "close" they looked.  A simple photo, blown way out of proportion.

You felt a lump in your throat. You tried calling Pedro, your fingers a little shaky. Voicemail.  You called again. Still nothing.  That lump in your throat just kept getting bigger.

💔

You got home, a simmering anger bubbling inside you.

He hadn't called.  Just a short,  text message:

💬"At dinner with the crew. Will call later." 

Later.  As if a quick text could erase the images swirling in your mind, the whispers of strangers on the internet, the gnawing feeling in your gut.

Hours ticked by. You tried to distract yourself, but your phone was a constant presence, a silent judge. Then, another notification.  Instagram. 

Your blood ran cold.  It was a post from Pedro.  A clip from the movie, a scene with him and Vanessa… kissing.

Something inside you snapped. 

All the carefully constructed walls you'd built around your insecurities, around your doubts, crumbled.

The anger, which had been simmering all evening, boiled over. It wasn't just jealousy anymore. It was hurt, betrayal, a deep sense of humiliation. 

And then, the anger dissolved into something even more painful: tears.  Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down your face as you stared at the screen, the image of Pedro and Vanessa kissing burning into your memory.

Later that night, your phone buzzed, the insistent vibration cutting through the silence of your apartment.  Pedro. 

You stared at the screen, your anger still raw, your hurt still fresh.  You didn't want to answer.  You really didn't want to answer. 

But after a while, exhaustion won, and you finally picked up.

"Hello," you said, your voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil inside.

"Hey," Pedro's voice was low, tentative. "I… I saw the stuff online.  I was going to call you sooner, but…"

"But what, Pedro?" you interrupted, your voice rising.  "You were too busy kissing your co-star for the cameras?  Too busy fueling the gossip mill?"

"It's not like that," he said, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. "It's my job.  It's part of promoting the film.  Vanessa's just a friend."

"A friend you lean your head on and kiss in movie scenes?" you scoffed. "A friend you make out with while the whole world speculates about your relationship?"

"It was a scene!" he exclaimed, his voice now louder. "It's acting!  You know that!"

"Oh, I know," you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words. "I also know that I don't go around snuggling up to my male friends, even if it was just a photo.  Oh wait, I don't have any male friends, do I?  Remember?  Because someone was so jealous, I had to cut them all off!"

"That was different!" he retorted.

"How was it different, Pedro?" you demanded, your voice trembling with rage. "Tell me how it's different to be pawed all over by a co-star while your girlfriend is being called a 'cuckold' on the internet!"

"Don't say that!" he shouted. "I'm not… I would never…"

"You didn't have to," you said, your voice now dangerously quiet. "Your fans did it for you."

"Look," he said, trying to soften his tone, "I'm sorry.  I didn't think… I didn't realize it would blow up like this."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Pedro," you whispered, the tears threatening to spill again. "It's never good enough."

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration.

"I wanted honesty," you said, your voice cracking. "I wanted respect.  I wanted… I wanted you to think about how this makes me feel, not just about how it makes you look."

"I do think about you!" he protested.

"No, you don't!" you screamed. "You think about yourself, your career, your image! You think about everything except me!"

"That's not true!" he yelled back.

"Yes, it is!" you shouted, your voice raw with emotion. "You're so busy playing the charming movie star that you've forgotten how to be a decent human being!"

"I am a decent human being!" he roared.

"Prove it!" you screamed.

The argument just kept escalating, insults and accusations flying back and forth. You were both yelling, neither of you listening.  Finally, completely fed up, you just chucked your phone across the room.  It hit the wall with a crack.  And then… silence.

🖤

Days blurred into one another. You finally got around to fixing your phone.  A thousand missed calls.  Hundreds of messages. All from Pedro.  You scrolled through them, a hollow ache in your chest. 

I don't know what we are anymore, you thought.  Nine years.  Nine years, and you felt like you were back at square one, questioning everything.

He pushed past you, stepping inside your apartment.  "We need to talk," he said, his voice tight.

Then, one night, he was there.  Knocking on your door.  You were a little drunk, trying to numb the pain with a bottle of wine. 

You opened the door, your heart pounding in your chest. "I told you, I don't want to see you," you said, your voice thick.

"About what, Pedro?" you scoffed. "About how you humiliated me in front of the entire world? About how you made me feel like I was nothing?"

"That's not what I meant to do," he said, his jaw clenching.

"What did you mean to do?" you asked, your voice rising. "What am I to you, Pedro? After all this time, after all these years, am I just… company? Someone to… fuck, when you need it?"

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and guilt.  "No," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "No, that's not… you're not…"

"Then what am I?" you demanded, tears threatening to spill. "Tell me, Pedro. Tell me the truth."

He tried to apologize, stumbling over his words.  "I didn't… I didn't cheat on you," he said. "I swear. I was loyal."

"Loyal?" you laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "Is that your definition of loyal, Pedro? Posing for pictures with your co-star, writing love scenes on Instagram?  Is that loyal?"

"I'll never do it again," he said, his voice pleading. "I promise. I love you. I… I want to marry you."

You stared at him, incredulous.  "Oh, now you want to marry me?" you said, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "After all this?  After you've dragged my name through the mud?"

He looked away, shame written all over his face.  He’d always been emotionally unavailable, terrified of commitment.  And now…

"Don't," you said, cutting him off. "Just… don't."

"I do love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.  "I can't lose you."

"You already have," you said, your voice breaking.

"No," he said, stepping closer, his eyes searching yours.  "Please, don't say that."

"It's over, Pedro," you whispered, the words heavy with finality.

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I can't deal with this anymore." 

A fresh wave of hurt washed over you, and a memory surfaced – a video you'd seen online, a clip from an interview, a casual joke that now felt like a dagger to the heart. 

"I even saw the video," you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. " She's 'My wife,' you called her. Funny, right?  Hilarious."

His face fell. "That was a joke," he mumbled. "It was taken out of context."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," you said, your sarcasm dripping.

"Just like everything else. Just like the cozy photos of you holding hands, just like the kissing scene, just like all the whispers and rumors. It's all just a big joke, isn't it, Pedro? A big, hilarious joke at my expense."

"That's not what I meant," he said, his voice cracking.

"I don't care what you meant," you said, your voice rising.

"What you did was pretty damn clear.  What you said was pretty damn clear. And what I felt was crystal clear. I felt like a total idiot. I felt betrayed. I felt… like I didn't even matter."

He reached out to touch you, but you flinched away. 

"Don't," you said, your voice hard.  "Just… don't touch me."

"You're being totally unreasonable," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "You're making a huge deal out of nothing."

"Oh, I'm being unreasonable?" you retorted, your eyes flashing.

"Am I?" you retorted, your eyes flashing.

"Or am I finally seeing things clearly?  Am I finally realizing that I deserve better than this?  Than being your secret, than being the woman you hide away, than being the butt of your jokes?"

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and frustration.  "I love you," he whispered again, his voice hoarse.

"No," you said, shaking your head. "You don't. You love the idea of me. You love the way I make you look.  But you don't love me.  Not the real me.  Because if you did, you wouldn't have done any of this."

"Please," he begged, tears now welling up in his eyes. "Just give me another chance."

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not the charming movie star, but a flawed, deeply flawed man.  And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that you couldn't do this anymore.  "No," you said, your voice firm.  "It's over, Pedro.  It's really over."

He suddenly pulled you close, his grip tightening on your arms. He kissed you, a desperate, almost frantic kiss. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you go. He kept repeating, over and over, "I love you. I can't lose you. I love you."

You know you couldn't let him go. Not yet. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him back, a desperate, broken sob escaping your lips.

"Why, Pedro?" you whispered against his mouth. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He kept kissing you, his touch both rough and tender. "You'll be my wife," he mumbled, his voice thick. "Only mine… and I'm gonna be only yours." 

The words, even though they sounded a little possessive, sent a shiver down your spine. You kissed him back, harder this time, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

He scooped you up into his arms, carrying you easily into the bedroom. Clothes flew everywhere – shirts, pants, everything – landing in a messy heap on the floor. His kisses got more urgent, more demanding.  He missed you. He needed you.  It hit you like a ton of bricks.

"I missed you so damn much," he growled, his voice low and husky as he kissed you roughly. "I need you, baby.  Seriously."

He kissed you gently, brushing the tears off your cheeks with his thumb. His lips trailed down your neck, then lower, to your breasts. He suckled, teasing, sending shivers all the way down to your toes. "Mmm, you taste so good," he mumbled against your skin. "Like… like sunshine and trouble."

He moved lower, his tongue tracing a path down your stomach, then even lower, to your core. He licked you, swirling and teasing, driving you absolutely crazy.

You were soaking wet, practically dripping. "Oh, Pedro," you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Fuck me, please."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense. 

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside you. He watched you, his eyes locked on yours, as he moved slowly, kissing you deeply. His full weight pressed down on you, making you feel grounded, like you were finally in the right place. 

"So perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so damn tight."

"Fuck me, Pedro," you begged, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts. "Harder."

He did what you asked, his movements getting more urgent, more powerful.  His cock was hard and thick, filling you up completely. "Yeah, baby," he groaned, his voice rough. "That's it. Take it what you need."

He grabbed your butt cheeks, pulling you closer, grinding his hips against yours. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, a smirk on his lips. "You like it when I'm a little rough."

You answer with a moan "Yes, fucking yes, Papi!"

Your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every thrust. You came, a long, drawn-out orgasm that shook you to your core. You squirted, your juices dripping down his balls and huge cock, soaking the sheets. 

"Oh, shit," you cried out, your body trembling. And then, he came, a guttural cry escaping his lips as he filled you completely with his seed.

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. He kissed you softly, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "I love you so damn much."

After you showered, you lay tangled together in bed, the afterglow still warm between you. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. "I love you, mi amor." he murmured, his voice soft.

Then, he got up, reached into the pocket of his jeans, and knelt beside the bed.  He pulled out a small velvet box, revealing a sparkling diamond ring. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes shining with love.

Your heart did a flip.  Finally. After all the crap, all the doubt, all the mess, this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for. "Yes, Papi" you whispered, tears of joy streaming down your face. "Yes, Pedro. I'll marry you."

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog and comment. ❣️

Request by @bonneyzsk

I hope so you are gonna like it 😊

My native language is not English so I apologize for mistakes.

[stargirlygirl]

valentine's day with the boys

shoto, denki, katsuki, shinsou, shiggy, kiri, izuku, tamaki, tenya, touya, hanta x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, college au, 2.7k words

a/n: happy valentine's day!! sloppy kisses for all of you mwah. i have over 200 followers now which is actually insane. thank you so much for all of your support! i hope this feeds you well.

comment your fav! i don't think i can pick. maybe shiggy or shinso or touya

todoroki shoto

⭑.ᐟ he has been eyeing you for a few months now and makes an effort to speak to you most days, even though you do most of the talking.

for valentine's day, he gets you an expensive perfume and lipstick he thinks compliments you so well (pays with his dad’s card ofc).

the day before valentine’s, he catches up with you after class and asks you to take a walk with him. he leads you to one of the quiet gardens and presents you with the gifts he bought for you.

“can i be your valentine?” he says quietly. he's blushing a little as he stares at you. you nod, thanking him and reassuring him that you’d love for him to be your valentine.

on your valentine’s date, you wear the perfume and lipstick he got you (they suit you so well!). he surprises you with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and takes you to his favourite noodle place. he gets their signature yakisoba (duh) and makes recs for you. you try his soba and moan in delight, stunning the poor boy who’s so nervous rn that he’s actually going out with you. he listens to you yap with stars in his eyes, more than content to get drunk on your voice

the night ends with a tender hug and a promise to go out again sometime.

kaminari denki

⭑.ᐟ he has been stuck in the friend zone for the past year. literally trying to rizz you up every chance he gets but is rejected every time (he cries laughs it off).

the day before valentine’s, you enlist denki’s help to make some goodies for your uni’s bake sale tomorrow.

he confesses his love to you via a heart-shaped jam cookie, telling you how he’s been in love with you since you met and that all those times he asked you out weren’t jokes. his feelings just spill over as he holds the warm cookie in his hands, gazing at it with rosy cheeks.

“i just-fuck-i really like you y/n and i want to be your valentine. can i—” you pick up the cookie from his palm and take a bite. your eyes widen because it tastes good. you bring the other side up to his half-open mouth and shove it in. he chews on the delicious cookie but, almost chokes on it as you giggle and tell him that you like him too, that you’d love for him to be yours.

on valentine’s day, you two help out with the bake sale. afterwards, you two walk around campus, handing out the leftover goodies to anyone in sight. you then book it back to your place for the night and make dinner together (as if he cooks).

after dinner, you two cuddle up on the couch and watch a rom-com.

bakugou katsuki

⭑.ᐟ he’s been tolerating you for a while. it’s only when hanta suggests asking you to be his valentine that bakugou realises how much he wants you.

the day before valentine’s, he waves you over during hockey practice (arf arf arf for hockey player bakugou omfg yummy yum bark bark rawr rattling my cage). you point to yourself, mouthing “me”. he just smirks and saunters up to you.

once you’re within reach, he tugs you close and smashes his lips on yours. you meet his rough kiss with wide eyes before softening and melting into his warm embrace.

when he pulls away, he demands that you be his valentine, “this shit is for losers but, you’re my valentine, alright?” he grunts. you blink at him, unable to think straight. seeing that dumb look on your face, he tugs you back into another passionate kiss. when he pulls back this time, you nod and whisper that you’ll be his.

on valentines day, you two go to a museum together (because you think history is cool or whatever) and have lunch afterwards.

the date ends with a sweet kiss as you have a new bf now hehe.

shinsou hitoshi

⭑.ᐟ he’s been working on a new song for valentine’s day (inspired by you ofc). he asks you to come over to his place a few days before valentine’s so he can show it to you. toshi knows how much you love hearing him play.

he’s peeking out his bedroom window, watching for any sight of you at least ten minutes before you agreed to meet him. when you show up, he rushes down the stairs and orders everyone not to open the door.

he invites you inside while running his hands through his hair and leads you to the garage. you sit down on the chewed-out sofa and watch him excitedly as he plays his latest song on his guitar, singing with a delicious rasp. he keeps his eyes on you the entire time. when he’s finished, you ask him what inspired him.

“you did, kitten. i want you to be my valentine… n’ maybe something more. how does that sound?” he says, smirking. you’re stunned by the fact that he feels this way about you. you giggle and stutter nervously about how much you would like that.

on valentines day, you spend the day in toshi's garage. he teaches you how to play the guitar on one of his older ones. he ends up tickling you and lying on top of you on his sofa, peppering you with kisses and whispering sweet-nothings.

congratulations, you have acquired a hot lead guitarist bf.

shigaraki tomura

⭑.ᐟ holy moly has this man been pining for you for far too long. he’s been overthinking asking you to be his valentine since the start of the year.

a week before valentine's day, you offhandedly mention that you like snake/spider bites when chatting with toga on the way to class. shiggy – being the loser that he is – was trailing behind you two, eavesdropping.

after class, he finds touya and asks to take him to a good piercer. that afternoon, he’s gritting his teeth as he gets his lip pierced with touya standing in the corner, filming (like the little shit he is).

the next day, you block shiggy from entering class. you stand in front of him, rocking to the side when he tries to get past you. he hides beneath his cap but you grab his chin and tilt his gaze toward you, taking in his new piercings with a creased brow.

you tell him that you saw touya’s instagram post and needed to know for sure if he got it done. shiggy grumbles and tells you to go away but you grab his wrist and tug him to a nearby bench. plopping down on it, you ask if he’s okay, and he mutters that he’s fine. avoiding your gaze, he asks if you like them, if you like him.

“you like these, right? cause… i-i got them f’you. cause i like you… or whatever.” you give him the biggest cuddle and reassure him that you love them and that you really like him.

you two spend valentine's day at shiggy’s apartment playing video games. you gently kiss his face after he smashes through so many levels, careful to avoid his fresh piercing.

kirishima eijiro

⭑.ᐟ he's liked you for a few months now; he’s enraptured with your presence and personality, your beauty, your everything.

eiji buys you a gorgeous bouquet of your favourite flowers and surprises you with them at your place. he tells you straight out that he likes you and that he wants you to be his valentine.

“i’ve liked you for a while now and i want you to be my valentine. maybe even my girlfriend if you’ll consider it," he says, gazing at you intensely. you tell him that you’ll start with being his valentine and kiss him on the cheek, taking the bouquet from his arms.you’re blushing hard as you ask him how he knew what your favourite flowers were (he asked your friends).

on valentines day, he’s got a boxing match. he gets you a front-row seat, and you cheer so loud for him the entire time he fights. emerging victorious, you stand up and clap, causing the people around you to do the same.

you meet him out the back and pepper his face with sweet kisses before catching his lips in a tender one. you two go out for dinner that night (his treat ofc).

over ice cream, you talk about your greatest fears and biggest ambitions.

he drops you back at your place that night and kisses you goodbye, promising you that he’ll become a man who’s worthy of dating you.

midoriya izuku

⭑.ᐟ he's probably pining for you since middle school or something. he writes you a four-page love letter detailing his love and admiration for you.

izu slips it in your bag during a study session a week before valentine's day. he gets really nervous the next day when you see each other but is immediately disheartened when you don’t say anything about it.

it’s only the day before valentines you find the letter (it slipped out of your bag as you were searching for a hair tie). you read it with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat.

after calming down, you head to his place. opening the door, izuku is met with you clutching his now tear-stained love letter in your hands. you throw yourself in his awaiting arms and apologise profusely for not finding it sooner. he shushes you and reassures you that it’s okay.

“don’t be sorry. i should have just told you that i liked you. d-do you-um feel that way too, y/n?” you nod enthusiastically and kiss him with shaky lips, his freckled cheeks cupped in your wet hands

izu takes you on a picnic for valentines day near the river. over sandwiches and cheesecake, you laugh about how long you’ve both been crushing on each other.

tamaki amajiki

⭑.ᐟ he's been crushing on you for years. he tries three times in the lead-up to valentine's day to ask you to be his.

the first time, you find him sitting in a corner at the library. you whisper to a very quiet tama about the upcoming assignment for one of your courses. when you finish speaking, he opens his mouth to ask you to be his valentine but, the librarian shoots you two a dangerous look and tells everyone to be quiet.

the second time, you’re walking out of class with nejire yapping away when he catches sight of you. neijire knows how much he likes you and tells you that he needs to talk to you about something. you hum and go up to tama, asking him if everything is okay. he starts mumbling that he likes you when mirio shows up out of nowhere and pulls you two into his burly frame, asking if you’re excited about the game tonight.

the third time, you’re catching the train home together after choir practice. you sit next to each other, you yapping away and tama listening nervously (he can’t stop staring down as he picks at a loose thread on his pants). as the train draws nearer to your stop, he starts panicking.

he looks up with wide eyes and quietly confesses to you, "s-sorry y/n i-i l-like you. a lot. please be—consider— being m-my valentine.” he scrunches his eyes shut, afraid of your reaction. you press the softest kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear that you’d love to be before getting up and waving goodbye.

on valentines day, you go to a food market and spend the day sampling all of the different foods (the grilled octopus is your favourite).

your date ends with you giving him a warm hug and telling him to text you when he gets home. after texting you, he collapses on his bed, overthinking everything that just happened.

iida tenya

⭑.ᐟ who is the top student in every single one of his courses, and who has no time for dating outside of his busy study, extracurriculars, and work schedule. but then he meets you during a tutorial, and boy is he smitten.

it’s the day before valentine’s when you two sit with each other in the library for your weekly study session. the librarian kicks you out at 9pm and tenya walks you to the train station.

you’re about to head off to your platform when he catches your hand. it’s silent except for the distant whirring of cars and the trembling of train tracks. no one else is around to witness how gently he holds your hand, his finger intertwining with yours. you ask him what’s wrong but he shakes his head.

he clears his throat and pushes up his glasses before asking you, “would you like to be my valentine?” you chuckle and nod, drawing closer to him and grabbing his other hand. you kiss his jaw tenderly and skip off to your platform before you miss your train.

on valentines day, tenya takes you to the ballet. by the end, you’re in tears, clutching his hand. you’re one of the last to leave the theatre, tenya wiping your eyes and rubbing your back.

that night, he promises you he’ll make time for you in his busy schedule and gives you a big cuddle before parting ways.

todoroki touya

⭑.ᐟ he's actually been obsessed with you since you were kids and plotting to make you his since the moment you accidentally threw a building block at his head on the first day of kindergarten (he still has a little scar near his hairline from your attack).

this is finally the year that he’s gonna do it (he tells himself).

as part of his therapy, he does recreational candle-making. he knows how much you love candles since you’re always adding a new one to your collection, texting him pictures of them and claiming that this one is “different”.

he chuckles as he pours different oils into the boiling wax, thinking about how he’ll give you something you’ve never seen before.

a few days before valentine’s, he’s got your candle all wrapped and tied with a pretty bow (fuyumi’s work). he's standing near the garden on your route to your favourite coffee shop (he knows that you'll be getting hungry around now). as soon as he sees you, he's suddenly the same five-year-old boy who’s giddy from the blood rushing to his head and the apologetic mumbles from your mouth as you sobbed.

you notice him and wave as you walk over to him. you're grinning as asking him how he is. he tries to act cool (as per usual), but his heart rate is off the charts. he’s breaking out into a sweat, about to start panting from his nervousness.

those icy blue eyes widen as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, claiming he has a fever. he shakes his head; a moment of clarity.

he thrusts the candle into your hands as he blurts out, “willyoubemyvalentine?” you accept and throw your arms around him, reassuring him that you’d like nothing more.

that night, you blow up his phone with how much you love your new candle.

on valentine’s day, you two make it your mission to try every flavour of slurpee from your local seven eleven. with belly aches and rainbow tongues, you two lie on your couch and confess your long-held feelings for one another.

sero hanta

⭑.ᐟ he’s been crushing on you for a few months now.

at eijiro’s house party, he gets dared by the bakusquad to ask you out for valentine’s day. with shaky hands and an even shakier resolve, he comes over to you and asks if he can take you outside.

the cool breeze provides the reprieve you two need from the heap of sweaty bodies, scent of alcohol, and endless making out inside. you ask him if everything’s okay, but he shakes his head.

stuffing his hands in his pockets and avoiding your gaze, he mumbles, “y/n, I really like you, okay? do you wanna be my valentine?” you playfully shove his shoulder, telling him that, obviously, you do.

you two spend the rest of the night sitting in hammocks and drunkenly chatting over your feelings and the latest gossip at uni

on valentine’s day, hanta teaches you how to skateboard at your local skate park. it’s embarrassing wearing all of these pads to protect your joints, but oh-so-necessary with the number of times you fall over. he holds your hands and laughs at you when you rock side-to-side, but he always encourages you to keep going.

afterwards, you two grab some ice cream and sit at the back of the parlour. like all cute couples, you feed each other your different flavours and hold hands as you walk home.

you ask a red-faced hanta if he wants to be your boyfriend, and he says yes.

[nmhdreamscape]

my turn! ✧ l.hc

pairing | dad!haechan x fem!reader

request | "sry to ask again but could you write whiny husband Haechan getting jealous of his son cause you give him more attention then Haechan by peppering him with kisses or cuddling him the whole time pls? (make it long if you can pls)"

word count | 944

content | fluff, slightly suggestive, jealousy, you and hyuck have a son, making out

“mum!” you heard a tiny yell sound down the hallway as the front door opened. you looked up at the clock, school was indeed over for the day. poking your head out of the laundry, you watched as your son came barrelling down the hallway towards you. you bent down to catch him, the boy landing in your arms quite harshly, earning a grunt from you.

“how was school today, baby?” you asked with a smile, squeezing him into a hug. you truly treasured small moments like this. moments where you could just truly take in your son. you pressed a flurry of kisses onto his cheeks as he tried to squirm away. when he finally broke free from your tirade of affection, he began to recount his day.

“and, we learned about dinosaurs today! dowon said the t-rex was the coolest but i thought it was the brac- bracio- bachi…” he trailed off, really trying hard to remember the name correctly. you let out a small giggle, pinching his cheek.

“brachiosaurus?” you quizzed, knowing you were right. what made it even better was watching the way his eyes lit up in delight at you knowing exactly what he meant.

“yeah that one! how’d you know that mum, you’re so smart.” he marvelled, leaning into your touch as you stroked his hair. 

“anything else happen?” you asked, wanting to make sure he was finished with his story.

“nope, i thinked that’s it.” he smiled up at you, looking like the direct copy of his father. you pressed a final kiss to his cheek before standing up again.

“it’s thought baby, not thinked.” you corrected, ruffling his hair. “why don’t you go and have a shower, i’ll make sure there’s a snack waiting for you when you get out.” the promise of food was enough to make your son take off running. you let out a hearty laugh, watching as his small frame disappeared upstairs.

the sound of someone clearing their throat rather loudly snapped you out of your motherly daze. you turned your head to find donghyuck leaning against the wall in the hallway, almost as if he hadn’t moved from the moment your son had greeted you. he was standing there with his trademark pout adorning his lips. you let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes as you made your way over to him. as you got closer, he backed further away. you raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“what’s up with you?” you questioned half-heartedly as you moved towards your husband once again. this time, donghyuck didn’t back away and welcomed you into his space. his arms naturally came to wrap around your waist as yours wrapped around his neck. you looked up at him, waiting for your answer.

“i don’t get hellos like that.” he whined, pout still present on his lips. you let out a laugh in disbelief, hand coming up to clutch at your chest.

“seriously?” you stared at him in disbelief. you watched as a slight redness began to appear on donghyuck’s ears. biting a lip to surprise a laugh at his embarrassment, you watched as he stepped out of your grasp.

“yes seriously! you didn’t even say hi at all.” he continued in a huff, arms coming to cross over his chest. you just watched on in amusement, wondering how he could get jealous over his own son, of all people.

that’s when you heard the shower turn on, signalling your son was doing what he was told. it also signalled that the two of you now had some time alone. without much of a second thought you cornered your husband up against the wall, standing up on your toes so that you were now eye level with him. your noses brushed against one another as your breaths mingled, your husband staring down at you in anticipation.

“hi.” you whispered, as your arms came to rest around his neck once again. his hands came down to grip at your waist, eyes not so subtly drifting down to your lips.

“hey.” was all the response either of you needed. your lips crashed together hurriedly, donghyuck surging forward, so now you were pressed against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

while you had missed your son while he was away at school, you also missed this. the feeling of donghyuck pressed up against you after a long day of work. your kisses were messy and rushed, his tongue slipping inside your mouth with ease as you began to tug on the hairs at the nape of his neck. the two of you could easily lose yourself in the sensation, donghyuck beginning to trail open mouth kisses down the column of your neck. however, that was soon to be interrupted.

“mum! dad! there’s a spider in the bathroom! i’m scared.” you both heard your son yell from upstairs, causing you both to pause and stare at one another. in assessing each other dishevelled state, you began to laugh, attempting to make yourselves look somewhat presentable, so your son wouldn’t ask questions you couldn’t quite answer.

“i better go deal with that and i’ll finish dealing with you later.” he winked, giving you a light tap on the ass as he walked away. you simply shook your head, watching as he disappeared up the steps.

“i’ll be waiting.” you called out from the kitchen, having moved to prepare your son the snack you had promised. moments like those with donghyuck you treasured as well, especially with the promise of what was to come later on once you both tuck your son into bed for the night.

masterlist requests and asks are open!

[imsryyimlate]

xoxo: stretchy love

❥ pairing: luffy x f!straw hat

❥ sfw-ish

❥ summary: sometimes luffy can get a little too affectionate in public.

— @lamentationsofalonelypotato for romance bingo

luffy was never one to back down from a challenge. he thrived on them, turning every obstacle into another fun adventure for him and his crew. but this one…this one was proving to be unexpectedly difficult.

“you need to learn control,” nami sighed.

“what’s wrong with giving her hugs?” luffy asked, tilting his head in confusion. “she’s my girlfriend! i should be able to hug her as much as i want!”

“hugs are fine, luffy, but having your hands wander where they shouldn’t isn’t appropriate,” usopp added, crossing his arms. “frankly, it’s embarrassing for us. you’re supposed to be known as the future legendary Pirate King, not ‘the guy who can’t keep his hands off his girlfriend in public.’”

“can’t i be both?” luffy frowned, his lips tugging into a pout.

sanji lit a cigarette and smirked. “i dare you to keep your hands to yourself. just hold her hand and nothing else.”

luffy perked up instantly, “a dare? you got it!”

nami huffed, unimpressed. “good luck, captain.”

when the crew docked at a new port for a well-earned break, luffy wasted no time stretching his legs wide enough to land effortlessly on the dock. you ran down after him, struggling to catch up.

without a second thought, he slung an arm out, grabbed your hand, and yanked you toward him with an excited laugh. you barely had time to react before you were pulled snug against his side, his arms wrapping around you like a rubber band snapping into place. he nuzzled against your cheek, grinning ear to ear.

“aww, luffy,” you laughed, wrapping an arm around his middle.

sanji cleared his throat as he approached. “oi, remember, luffy. only her hand.”

“oh yeah!” luffy let go of you immediately but still held your hand firmly, bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently, itching to break the rule.

“just my hand?” you asked, raising a brow as sanji nodded in confirmation.

“a little challenge to see if he can behave in public,” usopp smirked.

“yeah, yeah,” nami added, rolling her eyes. “your hands stay in hers. not on her ass, chest, or legs.”

“just your hand, huh?” luffy repeated, but he was already scheming.

he took a deep breath, suddenly dipping his head closer, lips hovering beside your ear. “this is gonna be harder than i thought,” he admitted, his voice low but mischievous.

sanji and nami exchanged glances, and though they would never admit it, they couldn’t help but chuckle as they watched luffy struggle.

“you sure you want this?” he teased. his free hand twitched at his side, fighting against his natural instincts. he wasn’t even thinking about it - his body just naturally wanted to hold you, touch you, pull you in closer.

but.

a challenge was a challenge.

still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t push the limits.

luffy leaned in more, his breath was warm and ticklish against your skin, and his voice dropped to a playful whisper.

“if i do this…” he murmured, pausing dramatically, letting his lips linger a little longer, “…will you let me hold you more than just your hand later today?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, a small smile tugging your lips. “i promise.”

luffy beamed, his usual bright, boyish grin returning in full force. “okay!” he squeezed your hand and pulled you along, already dragging you toward whatever adventure the island had in store.

[hedwig221b]

Do you have any good recommendations for ‘arranged marriage’ for Sterek? I love all your recommendations and the recommendations others leave under your answers but I couldn’t find any that were specifically for arranged marriage.

Please and thank you so much! You are an absolute angel for your recommendations. 💜💜

Ah, thank you! You're so kind! Here are some of my faves...

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

what do you call a rose by the_problem_with_stardust

He sinks down on a rock near a massive tree and rests his head in his hands. Someone nearby huffs. “Looks like my secret spot isn’t so secret anymore.” Derek looks up. There is a guy seated among the twisted roots of the tree. He’s about to get up and leave when the man’s scent hits him. Mate. No wonder his instincts are going insane.

Deflowered by astrugglingstoic

In which there is a prince, a knight, sequential sword fights, and an anecdote about pressed flower petals.

The White Hart of Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Sent to marry the Hale Beast Stiles finds himself alone in a castle left to ruin and watched over by Kate Argent, who he thinks is sleeping with his new husband and seems determined to destroy him.

You Made Me Believe by kits_lightning

“Here he comes.” His father whispered. Stiles couldn’t look, he felt nauseous and anxious. He tried to shake off the memories of witty, sarcastic comments, broody eyebrows, and intense stares. Stiles has been promised to a Prince he's never met before and they're about to get married but he can't stop thinking about the love of his life whom he's had to leave behind for the good of the kingdom…. or so he believes.

Under the Golden Moon by NARKOTIKA

Derek doesn't know how long he sits in his wolf skin, on his haunches, observing Stiles as the sunbeams slant through the trees and cast slashes of light across the omega's willowy form. The boy has his feet in the water, a babe on his hip, a bright smile on his face as the other younglings splash around and soak his garb. The creamy skin of his thighs peek out from the slits running down the sides of his draping skirt, and Derek has never wanted anything more than he wants this beautiful being of the woods.

The Thorns of a Rose by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“You have your mother’s eyes,” Peter suddenly commented, his tone light in his observation. Stiles stiffened at the mention of his mother. “Honest eyes,” Peter added as an afterthought. “Sunlit like the golden embers of coal burning in a forge.” Stiles turned a soured expression on Peter. “Have you a point?” He asked. “Many men have struggled to have those eyes even spare them a glance,” Peter simply stated. “An honest but naive treasure that managed to fool a dragon.” He placed the crown on Stiles’ head, amused when the boy immediately pushed away from him once the ornament was in place. “Hopefully those eyes can fool the Seven Kingdoms into thinking you could love a wolf.”

The Bargain by dr_girlfriend

Time drags on, and it becomes apparent that this is not a part of the tradition. The wolves start to shift on their feet and murmur, but no one attempts to speak to Stiles. He stands, feeling the back of his neck growing red from the sun and his face growing red from embarrassment. What will happen if Derek Hale cannot be coerced to the altar? Will the bargain be revoked?

Union by bythemoonlight

On the brink of war, the union between two strong packs is the only solution. The Stilinski pack is left with an omega heir and the Hale pack an alpha without a mate. Brought together as mates but ripped apart by a long war. They have to adjust to being back together after six long years.

The Decay of a Cosmos by Dexterous_Sinistrous

The memory of Derek confessing to him in the quiet of their shared resignation sparked from her words–“A child is leverage to my mother.” Derek knew what Talia wanted. And he refused to give it to her. Stiles’ hands tightened into fists. This was a gift, but not one Derek had given him willingly. He would live with that knowledge each time he held their son close. ~*~ A tale as old as arranged marriage, with a space opera twist.

A Tale of Two Princes by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

Given his nature of who he was, Derek Hale, only son to Talia and Marcus Hale, never expected to be married. Hell, he didn't even appear in public. But, after the war with the Argents, their country needed stability. And a political marriage suited that. Shame it had to be the prince of their neighbors to the south. Stiles had no idea where his life would take him. But a marriage of convenience to the crown prince of one of their neighboring countries wasn't exactly on his mind. He had to admit, it would have it perks. Both for the royal family, and for his country. He just didn't know anything about werewolves. Especially ones who were cursed out the ass. Oh well, he'd figure things out as he went.

The Fox & The Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

The war between the fox and wolf clans has raged for centuries, ignited in a time before anyone can remember. Now both clans—tired of the bloodshed and hate—are searching for a way to end the war. Crowned prince Stiles Stilinski—heir to the fox clan—has agreed with his father to meet with the Hales, the ruling royal family over the wolf clan. Under the counseling of the Druids, both clans are presented with a solution to the war: unite the Stilinski and Hale clans through marriage. To quell their people's anger, both Stiles and Derek—eldest living Hale Alpha—are urged to accept the other as an equal; as their mate. For the sake of their people, both houses make the ultimate sacrifice by choosing duty over love. But, out of what was first assumed to be compromised, quickly turns to be a better match than either could have hoped for. But not all is easy for either clan, as some members refuse to believe that the war could end so easily.

By Moon And Stars by kellifer_fic

"Have you heard of this Alpha?" Stiles asks, shuffling up his pallet so Scott has room to sit. Scott does with a grateful little twist of his mouth. Stefan forces him into the Stilinski ceremonial armor when they travel and Stiles can see that it's heavy and doesn't sit well on Scott. He can't shift encased in metal and Stefan knows it. "I know of him, mostly stories that seem a little fantastical. Shifters exaggerate just like common people. They like their war stories." "Tell me of him. Tell me a war story."

The Arrangement by Arver7

Through blackmail and lies, Stiles and Derek are forced into a marriage neither of them wanted. If they each want to survive each other, they must learn to coexist. But the more they get to know each other, the more they seem to care about each other. But will the lies stop them from falling in love?

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

Until Sunrise

“You told me I would have time,” Derek said, simmering with anger. “You promised to leave the choice to me.” “The court is starting to talk,” said Peter. “We do not have a stellar reputation as it is, and your ventures into the world of simple pleasures do not go unnoticed. You do not care, of course. But you are, pardon me, too loud for it to remain discreet.” “You think if I were to have a wife, I would stop fucking?” Peter cringed his nose. “No. It would make you a proper, civilized man. You are getting too old, nephew.” “Fine. But I’ll choose.” “No,” Peter smiled. “I shall choose.” Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Peter did not let him. “We both know you will continue to fuck whomever you want. None of us will be able to stop you. Let me have a pick of a proper spouse to placate the court. That’s all I ask.”

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek

[luvst4rc0r3]

Valentine’s Day Dates!!!

Sevika, Jinx, Ambessa, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Mel, Vander, Silco

Valentine’s day with them!

SILCO

You and Silco never made a big deal out of things like Valentine’s Day. Or birthdays. Or promotions. Achievements were acknowledged with a nod, maybe a quiet “Well done,” but that was the extent of it. The only exception was your anniversary, and even then, it was just a small gift, exchanged without ceremony before life moved on as usual.

So, when the 14th of February rolled around, you didn’t think twice about it.

The day was like any other—long, exhausting, filled with the usual dealings of the Lanes. By the time you got back to Silco’s office, all you wanted was to sit down, maybe steal a sip of his whiskey, and let the rest of the world fade away.

But the moment you stepped inside, you knew something was different.

The usual scent of damp stone and cigars was laced with something richer—spiced, warm. The office was dimly lit, the sharp glow of the fish tanks casting flickering light over the walls. Silco stood by his desk, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. And on the table…

Your eyes widened.

There was food. Real food, not just the quick, thoughtless meals you both shoved down between business dealings. Two plates, wine glasses filled, and something sweet tucked to the side, like an afterthought. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was more effort than either of you had ever put into a day like this.

You turned to Silco, skeptical. “What is this?”

He exhaled slowly, tapping his cigarette into a nearby tray. “A meal.”

You arched a brow. “A meal?”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but close enough. “A meal. With you. No business. No interruptions.” He stepped closer, tilting his head. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I pretend this never happened.”

You blinked.

Silco didn’t do things like this. He didn’t entertain sentiment for the sake of it, didn’t indulge in traditions that meant nothing to him. And yet, here he was.

He must have seen the surprise on your face because he scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Like I’ve grown a second head.”

You laughed, stepping forward, fingers grazing the edge of the table. “I just wasn’t expecting…” You gestured vaguely at the scene before you.

He hummed. “You never expect much from me.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, just a quiet observation. You met his gaze, something tight twisting in your chest.

“I never need to,” you admitted softly.

Because even without celebrations, without grand gestures, he was always there. In the way he ensured you were safe. In the way his hand lingered at your back when you walked together. In the way he listened, even when he pretended not to.

But this… this was something else entirely.

Silco studied you for a moment longer before gesturing to the chair. “Sit.”

You did. The food was simple but good, the wine smooth, the atmosphere… different. Comfortable in a way that neither of you usually allowed.

At some point, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours before settling over them completely. No words, no explanations—just the warmth of his touch, a silent understanding passing between you.

Maybe you didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. Maybe this was a one-time thing.

But tonight, it was enough.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

VANDER

You understood why Vander couldn’t take you out tonight. The Last Drop was packed, busier than you’d ever seen it. Every seat was filled, tankards clashed together in celebration, and coin exchanged hands faster than a Zaunite could blink. It was good for business, for the people, but… it stung just a little.

He’d promised you a night out. Something simple—just the two of you, away from the noise and chaos of the Lanes. But as the hours passed and the rush never slowed, you knew the night wasn’t going to end the way you’d hoped.

So, you sat at the bar, nursing a drink, watching Vander move from table to table, his laughter blending with the chatter of the crowd. He caught your eye a few times, his expression apologetic, but you just smiled and shook your head. You understood.

You didn’t even remember when sleep took you. One minute, you were swirling the last drops of your drink in the glass, the next, warmth surrounded you. The smell of something rich and savory drifted into your senses, pulling you from the depths of sleep.

Blinking, you realized you weren’t at the bar anymore. Instead, you were curled up on the worn-out couch in Vander’s home, a blanket draped over you. Soft candlelight flickered against the walls, and laughter—bright, full of love—filled the room.

Pushing yourself up, you turned towards the source of the noise.

Vander stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, moving with ease as he stirred something in a pot. Vi and Powder were setting the table, bickering over where the plates should go, while Mylo and Claggor handled some kind of bread, arguing about whether it was “too burnt” or “just crispy enough.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Vander rumbled, turning toward you with a sheepish smile. His arms were dusted with flour, his apron slightly askew. “Was startin’ to think I’d have to carry you to the table.”

Your heart clenched in the best way.

“You… did all this?” Your voice was thick with emotion as you looked around. The table was set, the food smelled incredible, and the warmth of home settled deep in your bones.

“We felt bad you didn’t get your fancy date,” Vi admitted, hands on her hips. “So, we brought the fancy date to you.”

“Minus the fancy,” Mylo added.

“Hey, I folded the napkins all pretty-like,” Powder huffed, pointing at the messily crumpled napkins.

Claggor grinned. “They look great, Pow.”

Vander walked over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Didn’t want the night to end without showin’ you how much you mean to us.” His voice was low, warm. “To me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled up at him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He chuckled. “Of course I did.”

The kids were already pulling you toward the table, eager to show off their work. The food was simple but filled with love, laughter bouncing between the walls of the home you shared.

Maybe you didn’t get your quiet, romantic evening out. But you had something better—a family, a home, and a man who loved you enough to turn a missed date into a night you’d never forget.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

MEL

A folded note rests on your bedside table in the early morning light—a simple message in elegant handwriting:

“Meet me where forgotten dreams glow tonight. – Mel”

That single line tugs at your curiosity all day. As dusk falls, you follow her cryptic invitation through the maze of back alleys and quiet streets of the city—a route Mel always seemed to know, one that bypasses the neon glare for something a little more raw and real.

You arrive at a long-forgotten courtyard, tucked away behind crumbling brick walls and overgrown ivy. There, under a canopy of soft, flickering lanterns, stands Mel. Clad in a blend of edgy sophistication—a tailored jacket paired with vintage boots and just enough mystery in her eyes—she radiates an aura of rebellion and grace.

A gentle smile plays on her lips as she greets you. “I know the world expects grand gestures,” she begins, her voice low and playful, “but I thought tonight we could have something more…authentic.”

Mel has transformed this hidden nook into a secret haven. A small table is set for two with mismatched vintage chairs, the surface adorned with wildflowers that seem to have sprung from the very soul of the place. The soft strains of a soulful melody float in the air from a well-worn record player, setting the tone for an evening that feels both intimate and adventurous.

As you settle into the cozy setup, Mel shares snippets of her day—stories of chasing the city’s pulse, of diving into forgotten corners to uncover hidden beauty. “I spend so much time chasing after chaos,” she admits with a half-smile, “but tonight, I’m chasing something real.” There’s a sincerity there that warms you more than any candlelight.

Between bites of delectable treats and quiet laughter, the city’s relentless pace seems to melt away. When the record changes and the music grows softer, Mel leads you along a narrow staircase to a rooftop overlooking a tapestry of twinkling city lights. There, with the hum of urban life far below and a blanket of stars overhead, she stops and turns to face you.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, drawing you close, “the most unexpected paths lead to the most enchanting destinations.” In that suspended moment, you feel the promise of something genuine—a love that thrives in the hidden spaces between chaos and calm.

And as you share a tender kiss beneath the night sky, you realize that Mel’s Valentine’s Day isn’t about elaborate plans or public displays. It’s about crafting a secret escape where every heartbeat, every whispered word, is a reminder that even in a tumultuous world, love finds a way to glow.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

EKKO

In the heart of Zaun, Ekko’s day always felt like a race against time—and today was no exception. Amid the clatter of tools and the hum of his latest gadget, tiny glowing orbs—the fire lights—danced erratically around his cluttered workshop. Their flickering sparks illuminated his workbench as he fine-tuned a device meant to bend time itself.

So absorbed was he in his work that he almost forgot what day it was. That is, until a particularly bright fire light zipped up beside him and chirped, “Hey, Ekko! It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Startled, he paused mid-adjustment. In an instant, the other fire lights converged into a sparkling, playful swarm. Their lights blinked in what you could almost call a chorus of mischief. One of them—its voice soft but insistent—seemed to say, “We’ve got this, boss. You wood take care of yourself tonight—and go on your date!”

Ekko blinked, a sheepish grin breaking through. How could he have been so wrapped up in keeping these little sparks safe that he’d lost track of the day meant for him and you? With a few quick taps on a panel, he set the fire lights to “self-manage” mode (they’d proven they could handle a little chaos on their own), then grabbed his jacket and dashed out.

Moments later, you found him waiting on the bustling streets of Zaun, his eyes alight with a mix of urgency and genuine affection. “Sorry I almost left you hanging,” he said, a playful edge in his tone. “These little rascals nearly made me miss our date.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his flustered apology. Hand in hand, you and Ekko slipped away from the familiar clang and clamor, heading toward a quiet rooftop tucked above the city’s neon glow. Up there, away from the incessant buzz of machinery and misbehaving fire lights, the chaos softened into a serene promise of time just for the two of you.

As twilight deepened, Ekko’s usual confidence gave way to a rare vulnerability. “I might be great at bending time,” he murmured, gazing out over the city, “but I’d trade every second of it if it meant missing a moment with you.”

That night, with Zaun’s lights twinkling like distant memories below, Ekko and you shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the kind of silence that spoke volumes. The fire lights, safely taking care of themselves back at the workshop, had given Ekko the gift of presence—reminding him that no matter how busy life gets, there’s always time for love.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

CAITLYN

Caitlyn is nothing if not precise, even when it comes to something as simple as Valentine’s Day. While everyone else is scrambling with last-minute plans or awkwardly trying to put together some grand gesture, Caitlyn has already thought of everything—because that’s just how she works.

You wake up to the sound of your doorbell ringing, a little earlier than usual. When you answer, you find a basket of neatly wrapped gifts—each one with a small note, perfectly handwritten by Caitlyn.

The first note reads: “For a perfect start to your day. I’ve already planned the rest, don’t worry.”

Inside the basket is your favorite breakfast—freshly baked pastries and a thermos of tea, exactly how you like it. You smile at the thoughtfulness.

By midday, Caitlyn picks you up, her usual posture calm and collected. She’s dressed in a light lavender dress, a bit more delicate than her usual attire, and the warmth in her eyes betrays her usual cool demeanor.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says softly, offering you a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve arranged something special for us.”

She takes you to a secluded garden, one that you’ve never visited before. It’s quiet and serene, filled with vibrant flowers in bloom and a soft breeze that carries the scent of the blossoms. There’s a small table set for two, surrounded by fairy lights that twinkle as the sun starts to set.

Caitlyn smiles as you look around. “I thought we could have a quiet evening, away from everything. Just you and me.”

Dinner is light and elegant—small bites, fresh fruit, and a carefully chosen wine. Caitlyn insists on pouring, her hands steady and practiced. The evening unfolds slowly, with soft conversation, gentle laughter, and the quiet sound of the wind rustling the leaves.

At the end of the night, Caitlyn leads you to a small bridge overlooking a pond, the stars just beginning to twinkle above. She hands you a delicate silver necklace, a charm shaped like a key.

“I thought you might like this,” she says, voice soft. “A reminder that you hold the key to my heart, always.”

You take the necklace, fingers brushing hers as you clasp it around your neck. Caitlyn steps closer, wrapping her arms around you. “I know I can be… a little formal sometimes. But with you, I can be myself.”

And for Caitlyn, on Valentine’s Day, that’s more than enough. A perfect, quiet evening, with the person who means everything to her. It’s not about grand gestures or over-the-top displays of affection—it’s about the subtle, meaningful moments she shares with you.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

VI

Vi is a bit of a softie, though she’ll never admit it. So when Valentine’s Day rolls around, she might not have grandiose gestures or flashy gifts, but she’s got something just as meaningful—a day with you.

The morning starts off with a surprise: you wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and the faint sound of music playing from the other room. When you step out, there she is, in her usual leather jacket, but with a big grin and her hair slightly messier than usual.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she says, a little too casually, like she’s not trying to act extra sweet. “I made you breakfast.”

It’s not gourmet, but it’s exactly what you like—scrambled eggs, toast, and a side of bacon with a mug of coffee that’s just the right temperature. She hands you the plate with a little wink. “Figured I’d get you ready for whatever the day brings.”

You tease her a little, “So, what’s the plan? More punching things?”

She chuckles, but there’s a warmth in her eyes. “I had a better idea.”

By midday, you’re not in the Lanes, not fighting, but instead walking hand-in-hand through a quieter part of the city. Vi’s in no rush today, taking her time to show you a side of Piltover you’ve never seen—the small spots where the crowds don’t linger, the quiet parks where the sound of the wind in the trees is louder than the noise of the streets.

She’s been sneaking glances at you all day, her usual tough-girl attitude softened by the way she holds your hand, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles. And when you both stop at a secluded spot overlooking the city, she pulls out a small, simple gift—a hand-carved pendant, rough but beautiful.

“Had this made for you,” she says, voice unusually shy. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted you to have something that reminds you of me—something that doesn’t have to get destroyed.”

You can see the effort behind it—the thoughtfulness she’s not always known for. And when you kiss her, she holds you close, just a bit longer than usual.

Later, the two of you end up on a rooftop, watching the sun dip below the skyline. She leans into you, her weight comfortable and familiar. “I don’t need the whole world to know how much you mean to me. But I think I can show you, at least.”

Vi’s Valentine’s Day might not have been grandiose, but it was all the more special for how real it was. And as you sit there, wrapped up in her warmth, you know that in her own way, she’s giving you everything you need.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

AMBESSA

Ambessa Medarda is not a woman of half-measures. She doesn’t do anything small—not in war, not in power, and certainly not when it comes to you.

You don’t even realize she’s planned something until the morning of Valentine’s Day, when a personal envoy arrives at your door with a message written in her sharp, elegant script:

“Be ready by sunset. Wear something you’ll want to be seen in.”

The rest of the day is a blur of anticipation. When the evening arrives, a private airship—yes, airship—is waiting to take you to a location kept secret until the moment you arrive.

And where does she take you? A grand feast in a palace lit by candlelight? A secluded getaway on a floating estate?

No. Ambessa Medarda doesn’t just take you to dinner—she owns the evening. The entire venue, a stunning high-rise overlooking Piltover, has been reserved exclusively for you. The table is draped in silk, the food prepared by the best chefs in the city, and the wine? A rare vintage, likely acquired through means you don’t want to question.

She’s already waiting when you arrive, dressed in regal attire that commands attention. Ambessa smirks as she looks you over, eyes sharp with appreciation.

“You clean up well,” she says, offering her hand. When you take it, she presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles, her grip firm—possessive, even. “Come. I intend to make tonight very memorable.”

Dinner is filled with sharp conversation, teasing remarks, and the kind of tension that leaves your skin burning under her gaze. She watches you like a hunter who already knows they’ve won. And she has. Because at the end of the night, when she leads you to the edge of the balcony, showing you the city glittering below, she leans in, voice low against your ear:

“Tell me, my love—how shall I conquer you next?”

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

SEVIKA

Sevika doesn’t do Valentine’s Day. At least, that’s what she claims every time someone brings it up. She scoffs at the idea of cheesy gifts, overpriced drinks, and love-drunk couples wandering the Lanes.

But when it comes to you? She’s got a soft spot—one she tries really hard to hide.

You don’t expect much from her today, and honestly, you’re okay with that. Just having her around is enough. But Sevika? She always finds a way to surprise you.

After a long shift at The Last Drop, she shows up at your door with a bag of your favorite takeout and a bottle of top-shelf liquor (the good kind, not the cheap stuff she hands out to randoms at the bar). She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just hands it over with a gruff, “Figured you’d want somethin’ decent to eat.”

You grin. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

“Tch. If I was askin’, you’d know it.”

But she doesn’t argue when you pull her inside, setting up a quiet dinner away from the usual chaos. She lets you play whatever music you want, even if it’s the sappy kind she pretends to hate. Somewhere between bites, she reaches into her coat pocket and tosses something onto the table—a small, worn-out metal lighter.

Your brows furrow. “You… got me a lighter?”

Sevika leans back, exhaling smoke from the cigar she just lit. “Had it for years. Lucky, or whatever. Thought you might wanna hold onto it.”

It’s not flowers, it’s not chocolates, but it’s her. A quiet, unspoken way of saying she cares.

You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling the way her muscles tense before she huffs out something close to a chuckle.

“Alright, alright, don’t get all sentimental on me.” But when she pulls you into her lap a second later, her grip firm and steady, you know exactly what she means:

She loves you—even if she’ll never say it outright.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

JINX

Jinx isn’t really one for traditional romance. She thinks all the pink and red hearts everywhere are kinda corny, but when it comes to you? She’s willing to make an exception—her way.

The day starts with chaos, because of course it does. You wake up to the sound of something crashing in the other room, followed by Jinx swearing under her breath. When you step out, she’s standing in the middle of a mess, surrounded by streamers, confetti, and what used to be a heart-shaped cake. She looks up at you, cheeks smudged with frosting.

“…Okay, so maybe baking’s not my thing,” she mutters, arms crossed.

You laugh and help her clean up, stealing a bit of frosting from her cheek just to see her pout. “We could always just buy something.”

“Nah, nah, I got a way better plan.”

And by that, she means dragging you all over Zaun for a Jinx-style date. It’s reckless, messy, and somehow perfect. She takes you to the rooftops, where she’s set up a little hideout with pillows, blankets, and snacks she “borrowed” from various shops. There’s even a bouquet of flowers, though some of the petals are missing—probably from her carrying them around all day.

“Ta-da!” She throws her arms out, grinning wide. “Romantic, huh?”

You sit with her under the neon glow of the city, watching the lights flicker. She fidgets a little before pulling something from her pocket—a small, handmade charm, rough around the edges but undeniably her.

“Made this for ya,” she says, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Y’know, so ya always got a piece of me with ya.”

Your heart melts. You kiss her, and for once, she’s quiet—until she pulls back with a teasing smirk. “Alright, alright, don’t get all mushy on me. I got one more surprise.”

And that’s how you end up running from enforcers because Jinx thought fireworks in the middle of Piltover were a fantastic idea. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

AHHH!!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!

I WANT FOOD

[bratbarzal]

Maggie you doing blurbs has made my whole week! Could I get “you celebrate this corny day?” “just say you’re lonely and have no one to spend it with, next time, ‘kay?” but with friends to lovers instead of enemies? With Quinn pleeeease <3

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

4. “you celebrate this corny day?” “just say you’re lonely and have no one to spend it with, next time, ‘kay?” with quinn (I took creative liberties with the exact phrasing of this but the essence is there lmao!! also love you for customising it, if anyone else is requesting feel free to jumble the tropes!!)

"You can't seriously be into all this stuff," Quinn huffs as he watches you pick up another heart shaped pillow down the seasonal aisle in the grocery store - your cart still empty despite being there almost 15 minutes, now - and the object in your hand having no conceivable difference to the one you picked up just before it. "It's so corny."

All he's heard for weeks now is Valentines this, and Valentines that, all his teammates going the extra mile for their significant others like it isn't just the same as any other Friday.

Dozens of roses, candlelit dinners, boxes of chocolates and God-forbid any of them forget a card, because how could you possibly ever show someone you love them without a folded bit of paper.

It's all so stupid.

"It's not corny, it's cute." You throw back over your shoulder, making a point of lifting the pillow higher just to show him, "Look, it's got ruffles!"

"What's the big deal about ruffles," he scowls, stepping past the cart and closer to the display that houses all the valentines themed garbage - pillows, keychains, water bottles and little plushies. He never thought you'd be into all this stuff - you barely even like Christmas - but here you are, fawning over anything you can find that's pink, or fluffy, or both. "You have like 90 pillows back in your apartment, I can barely fit on the couch anymore."

"There are 8 pillows max between both of my couches, Q, and they're decorative." You retort, rolling your eyes at your best friend as his face turns, nose scrunching in a petulant scowl. "I'm not taking interior design critique from someone with a sauna in his kitchen."

"It wouldn't fit anywhere else, you know that." he grumbles, snatching the pillow from your grip and throwing it back with the others.

"What's got you so annoyed about Valentines Day, huh?" you pick up the next item along, a fluffy keychain with cherries shaped like hearts - or hearts shaped like cherries, you're not quite sure - swinging the loop around your finger until you have enough momentum to launch it his way. "Did no one give Quinny a rose?"

He catches it, clumsily, against his chest, holding it in front of him to get a good look before he throws it straight back. "I'm not annoyed. You shouldn't have to buy any of this garbage to show somebody you love them. Just think it's a made up holiday set up to make money off of schmucks. "

"Hey, don't call me a schmuck," you jab a finger into his arm.

"Don't call me Quinny," he jabs back.

"If you don't have anybody to spend Valentines with and you're feeling lonely, you can just say that," You tell him, purposely bordering on condescending, picking up one of the stuffed animals - a bear, holding a heart that reads, I love you - and wiggling it his way. "See, we're all lovers, no one else here is gonna judge you."

He watches the way you pout down at the bear, tapping at its nose with your finger and hesitantly putting it back, like you don't quite want to.

"We're the only ones here, period," he scoffs, "No one else is weird enough to do their grocery shopping at 10pm."

"It was the only time you're free and I need you to haul the big bag of cat food into my car," you pout, remembering how much he had scolded you the last time you tried to do it on your own and hurt your back - promising that the next time you needed to top up, he'd come with and get his own shopping done at the same time.

"Whatever, you don't have anybody to spend Valentines with, either."

"I have Ziggy," you shrug, referring to your cat with the little white patch of fur around it's eye like a lightening bolt - the cat that Quinn had grumbled about when you first brought her home from the shelter, but who he always sought out whenever he came over to your place. "We're gonna watch Bake Off and eat dinner off of matching heart-shaped plates."

You hold up two red ceramic plates to him with a big smile before putting them in the cart, ignoring when he chuckles to himself, and edging past him to finally make your way off of the seasonal aisle.

"Hold on," he calls after you, appearing by your side with another plate in hand. "Ziggy already told me she'd be my Valentine, so we're gonna have to share."

"She's way too high maintenance for you." You snort, bumping your hip against his, "Especially if you think Valentines gifts are corny. She's not a cheap date, Q."

"Just like her mother," he sighs, dramatically, jumping back when you swing your leg out to kick him. "Hey, watch the shins, cat lady, you can't afford the damages on these things!"

He ignores the glare you give him as you watch him retreat, jogging back over to all the Valentines stuff and picking up two bears - the one you were just holding, and a smaller copy - one for you, and one for Ziggy.

"Here," he throws them into the cart, too. You pick the bear back up, twisting your lips as you look at the two of them side by side, and look back up to watch him walking backwards down the aisle, a glint in his eye as he watches you. "Don't check out without me, I need to go pick up some supplements."

"Big macho health-nut thinks I'm the corny one," you speak to the bear like it can even hear you, putting on a grumbly voice in an attempt to mimic Quinn.

"I'm sorry I called you corny!" He calls, further down the aisle, now.

"You called me a schmuck, too!" You call back, cheeks flushing at the lopsided grin he gives just before he rounds the corner at the bottom.

It's a smile he can't really shift as he makes a bee-line for the health aisle, content now that he actually has plans - isn't going to be sitting alone in his apartment with no one to spend his Valentines with, and doesn't need to fork out thousands just for it to mean something.

And when it rolls around a couple days later, and he's sprawled out on your couch, pillows tossed to the floor, and Bake Off flickering almost silently on your TV, he lays back with that same smile etched into his features.

You're asleep under one arm, and Ziggy is purring under the other, and for the first time ever, thanks to his best friend and your overly fluffy cat, he thinks that maybe the holiday isn't such a joke.

[vortexbloom]

I just had the funniest idea, how would the HSR men react to their child's first word being a curse word, someone cursed while they were near the child.

Sounds Interesting hehe 😉

Btw I decided to pick some HSR men myself, since you didn’t specifically say wich characters you wanted.

But of course, you can tell me if you have a certain character in mind 😘

I also did it a bit different, but I hope you still like it 😅

Your child‘s first word is a curse word (Separate OneShots)

Pairing: Sampo Koski/Boothill/Jing Yuan x Female Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Curse Words, fluff

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

It was supposed to be a sweet moment. Your child, barely a year old, had been babbling for weeks, and you and Sampo had been eagerly waiting to hear their first real word. Would it be "Mama"? Maybe "Papa"? Something cute and wholesome?

And then, out of nowhere, your child looked up at you both, smiled sweetly, and—

"Shit!"

Silence.

You froze. Sampo, sitting across the room, nearly choked on his drink. The baby giggled as if they had just said the most normal thing in the world.

"…Sampo." Your voice was dangerously calm as you turned to your husband, who was now failing spectacularly at hiding his amusement.

"W-Whoa now, sweetheart," he said, hands raised in mock surrender, his lips twitching. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. I mean, kids pick up words from all kinds of places…"

You crossed your arms. "And I wonder where our child could’ve possibly learned that one."

Sampo cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Uh… maybe from me? Maybe not? Could be the wind, really! You know, the way words just kinda float through the air…"

Your glare intensified.

Sampo sighed, finally dropping the act and rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright. So maybe I might have, uh, let a few choice words slip now and then." He glanced at your child, who was now happily babbling nonsense, completely unaware of the chaos they’d just caused. "But, hey, at least the kid’s got good pronunciation, huh?"

"Sampo."

"Right, not the point." He grinned sheepishly and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Tell you what—I’ll be real careful from now on. No more bad words from ol’ Sampo. Pinky promise."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the fact that our child’s first word wasn’t ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’ but—"

"Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it up to you," he said quickly, waving you off before picking up your child. "Alright, little buddy, let’s try something else. Say 'Dad-da' C’mon, you can do it."

Your child blinked up at him, then grinned mischievously.

"…Shit!"

Sampo snorted, immediately turning away so you wouldn’t see him laugh. You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This was going to be a long parenting journey.

The evening was peaceful in your little home, a rare moment of calm. You were rocking your child in your arms, their bright little eyes staring up at you as they cooed and babbled. Boothill sat nearby, his hat tipped slightly forward, watching with his usual laid-back grin.

You had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Your child had been making little sounds, but now…now was the time for their first real word.

And then, with the sweetest little voice—

"Damn."

Silence.

You slowly turned your head to look at Boothill. He blinked once, then pushed his hat up slightly to meet your stare. "Well, I’ll be damned."

"Boothill." Your voice was a warning.

He chuckled, shifting in his chair. "Aw, c’mon now, sugar. That’s a mighty fine word choice for a first, don’tcha think? Real strong. Real decisive."

"Booth, our child’s first word was a curse word," you said, exasperated.

He tilted his head, smirking. "Technically, 'damn' ain’t that bad. I mean, coulda been worse. Coulda been somethin’ I say when I get real mad."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Where do you think they even heard that from?"

Boothill leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Now, darlin’, we both know who they got it from." He tipped his head toward himself with a smirk. "Ain’t no use pretendin’ otherwise."

You shot him a glare. "And you’re proud of this?"

He laughed, standing up and walking over to you. "A little," he admitted, placing a hand on your shoulder. "But, tell ya what—I’ll make sure their second word’s a little more…parent-approved."

Boothill then leaned down to your child, who was still staring up at him with innocent curiosity. "Alright, sugarcube, how ‘bout somethin’ different? Try 'Mama.'"

Your child blinked, gurgled, then—

"Damn."

Boothill let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, shoot. Looks like this one’s got my spirit."

You groaned, covering your face with one hand while Boothill, entirely unbothered, took the baby into his arms. "Ain’t no worry, sweetheart. I’ll teach ‘em all the right words. Just…might take some time."

You sighed. You should have expected this. Raising a kid with Boothill was bound to be interesting, to say the least.

The grand hall of your home was unusually quiet, save for the soft crackling of incense and the distant hum of Xianzhou’s city life. Jing Yuan sat beside you, his long silver hair slightly tousled from a day of work, his golden eyes half-lidded with relaxation. Your child, nestled comfortably in his lap, babbled happily—small, incoherent sounds that made your heart swell.

For weeks, you had both been waiting for this moment. Jing Yuan, ever the patient and composed general, had taken his time encouraging your child to speak. He had whispered gentle words, taught them simple names, and had even placed small bets with you on what their first word would be.

"Perhaps it will be 'Daddy' or 'Mommy,'" he had mused one evening, a lazy smile on his lips. "Or maybe something amusing, like 'nap,' given how much they see me resting with them."

And now, finally, the moment arrived. Your child looked up at him with bright, eager eyes, opened their tiny mouth, and said—

"Fuck."

Silence.

You stared. Jing Yuan blinked. The baby giggled, seemingly proud of themselves.

"…Hm." The general cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the child as if that would somehow reset reality. "I see."

You pressed your fingers against your temple, exhaling sharply. "Jing Yuan."

He turned his gaze towards you, his expression unreadable—except for the unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. "Now, my dear, let’s not be too hasty in placing blame."

You crossed your arms. "Who do you think they learned that from?"

He sighed, but his smirk betrayed him. "Admittedly…there may have been a few instances where I expressed my frustration in less-than-graceful terms."

"Oh? A few instances?"

Jing Yuan chuckled, shifting your child so they were facing him properly. "My little star," he said softly, his voice full of warmth, "how about we try something else? Perhaps 'Daddy'? Or 'Mommy'?"

Your child tilted their head, as if considering, before gleefully repeating, "Fuck!"

Jing Yuan, the great and respected Cloud Knight General, sighed in resignation. "This…is quite the predicament."

You smirked. "What happened to all that wisdom and patience? You look defeated, General."

He let out a deep chuckle, placing a hand over his forehead in mock exhaustion. "This may very well be my most humbling battle yet."

You reached over, gently taking your child from him, shaking your head with amusement. "Well, you get to fix it."

Jing Yuan smiled, watching as the baby clung to you happily. He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes twinkling with something unreadable.

"Of course," he murmured, voice filled with amusement and something softer—something utterly devoted. "But regardless of the words they choose…they are still our greatest treasure."

And despite yourself, despite the chaos and the mischief, you couldn’t help but agree.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[kaiyunsim]

sk8er boi —

pairing : skater boy!taesan x academic gn!reader

summary : taesan, the well known skater, slacker, and band member of boynextdoor, catches the eye of one of the top students in school which leads to a flurry of complications.

warnings : a.n.g.s.t, fluff, band au, woonahk + leehan are wingmen, LOTS of insecurities and insecurites, featuring sung hanbin from zb1 and leeseo from ive as the readers friends.

a/n : IT FINALLY DROPPED !! i've been too obsessed with this song i think i might die. taesan was soooooo sk8er boi coded so like yk i had to.

— wc : 11.6k — not proof read —

the first time you really see han taesan, it’s not at school. it’s not in the hallways where he leans against lockers, talking lazily to his friends, or in the cafeteria where he slouches in a chair, kicking his feet up on the table while jaehyun smacks them off. it’s not even in the skatepark where he spends most of his free time.

it’s in the library.

it’s late. later than you usually stay, but leeseo convinced you to help her cram for an upcoming quiz, and sung hanbin, the responsible one, promised to treat you both to coffee afterward. the library is quieter than usual, the overhead lights buzzing softly as the three of you sit in one of the far corners.

“if i fail this,” leeseo groans, pressing her forehead against the table, “i’m going to cry. like, actual tears.”

“you won’t fail,” hanbin reassures her, flipping through his neatly highlighted notes. “just focus. here, try this question—”

but leeseo isn’t listening anymore. her eyes widen as she nudges you, not-so-subtly gesturing toward the entrance. “look who just walked in.”

you glance up, expecting a teacher or maybe some last-minute studier like yourselves. leeseo has been mentioning a teacher she found cute but you had to cut her out of her delusions.

instead, you see him. han taesan, pushing open the library door with one hand while holding his skateboard in the other. he doesn’t belong here. not in this quiet, studious atmosphere. and yet, here he is, wearing a black hoodie over a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same scuffed sneakers he always wears.

behind him, the rest of boynextdoor trails in. sungho looks bored, running a hand through his hair as he scans the room. riwoo has his headphones on, already bopping his head to whatever he’s listening to. jaehyun is carrying a backpack, which means someone is actually planning to study. leehan is whispering something to woonhak, who nods before laughing under his breath.

they stand out in every way possible. loud personalities forced into a silent space.

“what are they doing here?” leeseo mutters, wrinkling her nose.

“probably failing their classes,” hanbin says, not unkindly but matter-of-fact. “jaehyun’s the only one who actually studies, i think.”

“doesn’t matter,” you say, turning your attention back to your notes. or at least, you try to. but as you read the same sentence over and over, you can’t help but be aware of taesan.

he moves differently from the others. while the rest of his friends slink toward an empty table, he pauses by the bookshelf near yours, scanning the spines of the books with mild interest. it’s weird. you’ve never seen him hold a book before, let alone look for one.

you try not to stare, but then his fingers brush against a book, flipping it open casually. for a moment, he looks genuinely focused, eyes scanning the page like he’s actually reading. but then he shuts it just as quickly, sighing before shoving it back onto the shelf.

“he’s so full of himself,” leeseo says under her breath, watching as taesan finally joins his group. “have you seen the way he acts? like he doesn’t care about anything.”

“he doesn’t care about anything,” hanbin corrects. “except skating. and his band.”

“oh, right, his band,” leeseo scoffs, making air quotes. “like that’s gonna get him anywhere.”

you don’t say anything. it’s not like you disagree after all. taesan’s reputation is as solid as stone. he’s the guy who barely passes his classes, who gets detention for skipping, who spends more time perfecting a kickflip than doing actual homework. your friends see him as a lost cause, and you’ve never had a reason to question that.

but then, as if he can feel you thinking about him, taesan glances up.

your eyes meet for a split second.

it’s nothing. it’s barely anything.

but instead of looking away, he holds your gaze. and then, he smirks. just the slightest twitch of his lips, like he knows something you don’t.

you snap your head down, suddenly very interested in your notes. re-reading the same word again.

“gross,” leeseo mutters. “he’s so arrogant.”

“he really is,” hanbin agrees. “come on, let’s focus. we need to finish this before the library closes.”

you nod, forcing yourself to concentrate, but your mind keeps drifting back to that one moment. his gaze, his smirk, the way he seemed completely unbothered by everything around him.

it was nothing.

but for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way.

you tell yourself it was nothing. a look. a stupid, meaningless look in the middle of the library, a place han taesan doesn’t even belong in. you convince yourself it wasn’t directed at you. maybe he was looking at something behind you. maybe he smirked because of something his friend said.

maybe you’re just imagining things.

but the problem is now you notice him.

it’s not on purpose. it’s not like you want to be aware of him. but suddenly, han taesan is everywhere.

in the mornings, when you walk into school, he’s there in the courtyard with his skateboard, practicing tricks while his friends watch. sungho claps him on the back when he lands a difficult one, and riwoo films clips for their social media. sometimes he messes up, but he never looks embarrassed, he just laughs, shakes out his legs, and tries again.

in the halls, you catch glimpses of him leaning against lockers, chatting with jaehyun or leehan about something you don’t understand. his hoodie is always slightly oversized, his hands tucked into the front pocket like he has nowhere important to be.

in class, he’s not as disruptive as people make him out to be. sure, he zones out, tapping his fingers against his desk like he’s drumming to a song in his head, but he isn’t rude. he doesn’t talk over the teacher or make a big scene. sometimes, you even catch him sketching in his notebook, half-finished designs of skateboards, little doodles in the margins of his notes, messy but interesting. even some lyrics he thinks about while bored.

you don’t realize you’re staring until hanbin nudges you.

“earth to y/n. you okay?”

you blink, tearing your gaze away from where taesan is sitting a few rows ahead. he’s slouched in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, not paying attention to the lesson at all.

“yeah,” you say quickly, feeling heat creep up your neck. “just zoning out.”

hanbin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it.

but it doesn’t stop there.

one afternoon, on your way home, you take a shortcut through the park. it’s quiet, with only a few people scattered around, mostly kids playing or joggers passing by. but then, near the skatepark, you hear music.

you pause.

it’s a song you don’t recognize, but it’s good. raw, unpolished, but good. you follow the sound until you spot them. boynextdoor, huddled together on a set of stairs near the skate ramps. sungho has a guitar in his lap, strumming casually. jaehyun is humming along while woonhak taps out a beat on his knee. riwoo is messing with his phone, recording bits of their practice.

and then there’s taesan.

he’s sitting on his skateboard, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted back as he listens. his dark hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“again,” he says after a moment. “start from the top.”

sungho rolls his eyes but starts playing again, and this time, taesan sings.

you freeze.

you’ve never heard him sing before. you know his band performs at underground gigs, but you’ve never gone. you’ve never had a reason to.

but his voice. his voice is rough around the edges, not perfect, but there’s something real about it. something honest.

you don’t mean to linger, but before you can move, taesan’s eyes flicker toward you.

your breath catches.

for a second, neither of you move.

then, instead of looking away, he lifts his hand in a lazy wave, like he’s not surprised to see you there at all.

panic jolts through you, and you do the first thing that comes to mind. you turn around and walk away.

fast.

you don’t stop until you’re a safe distance from the park, heart hammering in your chest.

why are you acting like this? why does it feel like you just got caught doing something you shouldn’t?

it’s not a big deal. it’s not.

except now, han taesan knows you were watching.

and the next day, he makes sure you know he knows.

it happens between classes. you’re at your locker, organizing your books, when a shadow falls over you.

“did you like the song?”

you nearly drop your notebook.

slowly, you turn your head, and there he is. the han taesan, standing next to you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. he smells faintly like cologne and something else, something warm, like sun on pavement.

you open your mouth, then close it.

“what?”

“the song,” he repeats, tilting his head. “you heard it yesterday, right?”

your throat is dry. “i was just passing by.”

he hums, unconvinced. “sure.”

you grip your notebook tighter. “why are you even talking to me?”

taesan shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up just slightly. “dunno. you’re interesting.”

your brain short-circuits.

you? interesting?

before you can process that, leeseo’s voice calls out from behind you.

“y/n ! come on, we’re gonna be late!”

taesan steps back, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“see you around, genius.”

and then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd like he didn’t just completely ruin your entire day.

leeseo and hanbin catch up to you, and leeseo frowns. “what did he want?”

“nothing,” you say quickly. too quickly.

hanbin eyes you but doesn’t press.

still, as you walk to class, you can’t stop replaying his words in your head.

“you’re interesting.”

this is bad.

this is really bad.

the worst part is that taesan doesn’t even try to prove your friends wrong.

after that weird conversation at your locker, you expect him to keep bothering you, to tease you every time he sees you. but he doesn’t. he doesn’t go out of his way to talk to you. he doesn’t change anything about the way he acts.

he just keeps being himself. skating in the mornings, goofing off with his band during breaks, sketching in his notebook when he’s bored in class.

but the damage is already done. because now, whenever he walks past, your stomach tightens. when he laughs with his friends, you find yourself looking before you can stop yourself. and when he catches you and smirks, like he knows you’re paying attention, you have to force yourself to look away.

your friends notice, of course.

“you’re acting weird,” leeseo says one afternoon as the three of you sit in the cafeteria. “ever since he started talking to you.”

“i’m not acting weird,” you say. too quickly.

“you so are,” she insists. “right, hanbin?”

hanbin sighs, poking at his food. “it’s not weird, it’s just… unexpected. taesan’s not exactly the type to take interest in school stuff.”

“yeah, which is why y/n needs to be careful,” leeseo says. “guys like him? they’re fun to look at but nothing else.”

you don’t say anything.

they aren’t wrong. han taesan isn’t like you. he’s a skater, a musician, the kind of guy who doesn’t think too far ahead. and yet…

“maybe he’s not that bad,” you mumble before you can stop yourself.

leeseo stares. “excuse me?”

“i just mean—” you hesitate. “i don’t know. he’s not rude or anything. he’s just… himself.”

“that’s exactly the problem,” she argues. “he doesn’t care about anything. he’s never going to take life seriously.”

you want to disagree. but you don’t.

because if you defend him too much, they’ll know.

they’ll know about the way your heart jumps when he looks at you. the way your brain replays his stupid voice saying see you around, genius.

so you stay quiet.

and you try to push it all away.

but then there’s woonhak.

you don’t know much about him aside from the fact that he’s the youngest in taesan’s group. he’s always laughing, always cracking jokes, always the most energetic of the bunch.

so it catches you off guard when, one day after school, he falls into step beside you as you’re walking out.

“hey,” he says cheerfully.

you blink. “uh… hey?”

“you’re y/n, right?”

“…yeah?”

he grins, nodding. “thought so. you know, taesan’s been talking about you.”

your stomach flips. “what?”

woonhak laughs at your expression. “not in a weird way! just, like—he thinks you’re cool.”

you stare at him.

taesan thinks you’re… cool?

“why are you telling me this?” you ask suspiciously.

woonhak shrugs. “dunno. you seem chill. also, i figured you should hear something about us that isn’t from your friends.”

you tense. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he gives you a knowing look. “we know how people see us. dumb kids who don’t care about school, right?”

you shift uncomfortably. “i mean—”

“you don’t have to lie,” he says, still smiling. “i get it. we mess around a lot, and taesan’s got his whole too cool for everything vibe, but…” he pauses, tilting his head. “you ever actually talked to him? like, really talked to him?”

you don’t answer.

because the truth is… you haven’t.

taesan has spoken to you, sure. teased you, smirked at you, made your heart do all sorts of annoying things. but you’ve never sat down and had a real conversation. never actually asked him about his music, his art, his life.

“he works harder than people think,” woonhak continues. “he just doesn’t show it in the same way you do. and he really does like you, you know.”

your breath catches. “what?”

“not, like, in a romantic way,” woonhak clarifies quickly, though his grin suggests otherwise. “he just thinks you’re interesting.”

there it is again. interesting.

you don’t know what to do with that.

so you do what you always do.

you ignore it.

“cool,” you say, trying to sound unaffected.

woonhak doesn’t look convinced, but he just chuckles. “anyway, just thought i’d say hi. see you around, y/n.”

and with that, he jogs off, leaving you standing there, brain spinning.

you should just let this go. you should listen to your friends, stick to your world, and forget about taesan entirely.

but as you watch woonhak disappear down the street, you feel something shift inside you.

something that tells you, this situation isn’t going away anytime soon.

—

you try your best to forget about han taesan.

after woonhak’s little chat, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. what he said. ‘he really does like you, you know’ was probably just him messing around. taesan barely even talks to you. he’s just being his usual, reckless self, getting involved where he doesn’t belong.

but no matter how much you try to ignore it, you keep running into him.

and each time, it gets harder to pretend that something isn’t pulling you closer.

the library incident happens on a tuesday.

it’s supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. you’re at your usual table, buried in your notes, trying to focus on your upcoming exams. hanbin and leeseo sit across from you, whispering about something that isn’t school-related.

everything is normal. until the door swings open.

“i cannot believe you actually dragged me here,” taesan groans, his voice breaking the quiet.

you stiffen.

you don’t even have to look to know it’s him. but, unfortunately, you do look—because his voice is impossible to ignore, because your brain is stupid and wants to confirm that, yes, han taesan is standing in the library, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

sungho and jaehyun flank him on either side, looking much more comfortable than he does.

“we dragged you here because you’re failing, dumbass,” jaehyun mutters, shoving him forward.

“i am not failing,” taesan protests. “i’m just… struggling.”

“struggling to even open your textbook,” sungho deadpans, leading him toward a table.

leeseo makes a noise of disapproval. “ugh. them?”

“just ignore them,” hanbin says, flipping a page in his notebook. “not our problem.”

but it is a problem. because now, taesan is sitting just a few tables away from you, slumped over his books, looking absolutely miserable.

you try to focus.

you really, really try.

but then—

“psst. genius.”

your pen stills against your notebook.

you don’t have to turn around to know it’s taesan.

you turn around anyway.

he’s leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, looking right at you.

“how do you do this?” he asks, pushing a book toward you like it personally offended him.

“do what?” you say flatly.

“study,” he groans. “it’s so boring.”

jaehyun smacks him upside the head. “shut up and focus.”

you should turn back to your work. you should.

but instead, you sigh. “maybe if you actually read instead of whining, it wouldn’t be so hard.”

sungho snorts. “finally, someone who says it straight.”

taesan huffs. “wow, okay. you could just offer to tutor me.”

“not happening,” you say immediately.

he grins, like he expected that answer. “worth a shot.”

you roll your eyes and go back to your notes. but even as you pretend to ignore him, you can still feel his eyes on you, like he’s waiting for you to slip up and react.

and the worst part?

you kind of want to.

the next time you see him, it’s at the skatepark.

you don’t mean to go there. you’re just walking home, taking a longer route because the weather is nice. and somehow, your feet lead you to the park, where you hear laughter and the familiar sound of wheels against concrete.

you could leave.

you should leave.

but instead, you linger at the edge, watching.

taesan is mid-trick, flipping his board with practiced ease. he lands smoothly, a smug grin spreading across his face as riwoo claps.

“finally,” riwoo says. “took you long enough.”

“shut up,” taesan laughs, grabbing his board.

you don’t realize you’re staring until woonhak pops up beside you.

“you so have a crush.”

you nearly jump out of your skin. “what—“

woonhak just grins. “don’t even try to deny it. i see you.”

“i don’t have a crush,” you say quickly. too quickly.

“uh-huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced.

before you can argue, someone else joins you—leehan, quieter than woonhak but just as observant.

“are you coming to the show?” he asks casually.

you blink. “what show?”

“we’re playing this weekend,” he explains. “you should come.”

“i don’t think—”

“taesan would love it if you did,” woonhak says, grinning.

you freeze.

leehan elbows him. “stop making it weird.”

“what? i’m just saying.”

“you’re implying things,” leehan mutters. then he turns back to you. “seriously, though. you should come. it’ll be fun.”

you hesitate.

your friends would definitely disapprove.

but then you glance back at taesan, who’s laughing at something sungho said, looking so effortlessly cool, so different from the type of people you usually surround yourself with.

and before you can stop yourself, you say—

“okay. maybe.”

woonhak cheers, clapping you on the back. “knew you had it in you!”

you shake your head, already regretting it.

but deep down, a part of you is excited.

the night of the concert comes faster than expected.

you almost don’t go.

hanbin and leeseo invite you to study, and for a second, you consider it… going back to your routine, pretending like han taesan doesn’t exist.

but something stops you.

something pulls you there.

so now, you’re standing in the middle of a dimly lit venue, surrounded by people who actually belong in this crowd. the air buzzes with energy, anticipation thick as the stage lights flicker.

and then the band steps on stage.

and then he steps on stage.

han taesan doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t falter.

he owns it.

he grabs his mic, runs a hand through his hair, and smirks at the crowd like he knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

the music starts, loud and raw and alive.

and then he’s singing.

his voice isn’t perfect. it’s a little rough, a little unpolished, but it fits. it’s real. it’s him.

and then, in the middle of the song, his eyes scan the crowd...

and lock onto yours.

your breath catches. for a second, the world tilts.

he doesn’t look away.

neither do you.

and in that moment, with music thrumming through your veins and taesan’s voice filling the air, you realize

you’re completely screwed.

you can’t breathe.

not because the room is stuffy, or because the music is loud, or because the crowd is pushing in from all sides.

but because han taesan is looking right at you.

the stage lights flicker, flashing over his face, highlighting the smirk curling at his lips. the microphone is gripped loosely in his hand, the strap of his guitar slung over his shoulder. he sings like the stage belongs to him, like the music was made for him, and yet...

his eyes don’t stray from yours.

you feel rooted to the floor, like if you move, you’ll break whatever invisible thread is keeping the two of you connected.

and you hate it. you hate how much your heart reacts to him, how your stomach tightens every time his voice rasps into the mic.

this is bad.

this is really bad.

and it only gets worse when, from the corner of your eye, you see woonhak grinning at you from across the room.

he’s standing near the side of the stage, watching the exchange like he’s witnessing the most entertaining thing in the world.

and then, because he’s the absolute worst, taesan winks at you.

you snap your gaze away, face burning.

but the damage is already done.

because now, you can’t not notice taesan.

the way his fingers glide over the guitar strings so effortlessly. the way his hair falls into his eyes when he tilts his head. the way he smirks between lyrics, like he’s enjoying this.

like he knows what he’s doing to you.

this was a mistake and you shouldn’t have come. but god, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

because even though everything inside you is screaming that this is dangerous, that getting involved with him will only make things complicated.

but still. you don’t want to look away.

not now. not ever.

when the set finally ends, the room erupts into cheers. people push forward, clapping, whistling, shouting their names.

you try to steady yourself, try to ignore the way your pulse is racing, hand gripping your shirt for stabilty, but you feel a graze on your shoulder.

woonhak appears at your side.

“so,” he says, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. “you’re definitely in trouble.”

you glare at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he snorts. “oh, please. i saw that whole thing. he saw that whole thing.”

“he was just looking at the crowd,” you say, even though you know it’s a lie.

“right. because taesan always makes intense eye contact with random people while singing,” he deadpans.

you groan, rubbing your face. “i hate you.”

“nah, you love me,” he grins. “but not as much as you love him.”

“woonhak—”

“i’m just saying,” he singsongs. “you might wanna start being honest with yourself. and maybe with him, too.”

you don’t dignify that with a response.

but as you glance toward the stage, where taesan is still lingering, laughing at something jaehyun said—

you know woonhak is right.

and that terrifies you more than anything.

—

taesan doesn’t come to practice.

he never skips practice.

it’s something you hear from sungho after school, when he finds you by the front gates, watching the sky darken as you wait for your usual bus. you’re trying really hard not to think about what happened earlier. about the way taesan looked at you before walking away, about the heavy silence he left behind. but sungho showing up with that look on his face makes it impossible to ignore.

“he didn’t show up,” he says, standing next to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you glance at him. “who didn’t?”

sungho gives you a flat look. “you know who.”

your stomach twists, but you force a shrug. “maybe he had something else to do.”

“he never skips,” sungho repeats, more firmly this time.

you don’t answer.

because what are you supposed to say? 'yeah, it’s probably my fault. i didn’t defend him when i should have, and now he’s upset. i didn’t mean to hurt him, but i still did.'

sungho sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“what happened?”

you swallow. “nothing...”

“don’t lie.”

“i’m not lying.”

he levels you with a stare, unimpressed. “you totally are.”

you exhale sharply, looking away.

“look,” he says, voice softer now, “he’s been acting weird all day. he barely talked during lunch, barely even looked at his board, and now he’s skipping practice? that’s not taesan.”

“i don’t know,” you mumble.

sungho raises a brow. “don’t know, or don’t want to say?”

you press your lips together, gripping the straps of your bag.

because the truth is...

you do know.

and you hate yourself for it.

it started during lunch.

your friends were scrolling through their phones, passing around a video of boynextdoor performing.

“god,” leeseo groaned, wrinkling her nose. “he’s so obnoxious.”

“who?” hanbin asked, leaning over to look.

“han taesan.” she jabbed a finger at the screen. “look at him. he acts like he’s a rockstar or something.”

your grip tightened around your drink.

“he is in a band,” hanbin pointed out.

“yeah, but he takes it so seriously. it’s kinda embarrassing.”

they laughed.

but you didn’t. and you didn't say anything either

you just sat there, staring at the table, pretending like the words didn’t make something in your chest ache.

but just then.

taesan walked by.

he wasn’t close enough to hear everything, but he did hear enough. his steps faltered just slightly, his easygoing expression slipping for just a second before he schooled his face back into something unreadable.

and then his eyes met yours. not angry. not annoyed.

just… disappointed.

like he expected this... like he expected you to be different.

but you weren’t.

you didn’t speak up. you didn’t say anything.

so he walked away.

and now, he’s gone.

—

sungho watches you carefully, waiting.

when you still don’t answer, he tilts his head. “so… it was you.”

“i didn’t do anything,” you say quickly.

“exactly.”

you flinch.

sungho sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“look,” he says, “i don’t know what’s going on between you two, but if this is about your friends—”

“it’s not,” you cut in.

his brows lift. “isn’t it?”

you exhale sharply, looking away.

because it is.

and it always has been.

from the moment you met taesan, you knew your friends wouldn’t approve. you knew they’d see him as reckless, as trouble, as someone you shouldn’t be around.

so you held back.

you pretended you didn’t care, pretended that the way he looked at you didn’t make your heart race, that his stupid grin and sharp comebacks didn’t make you want to keep talking to him.

but you do care. you care too much. and now, it’s hurting him.

“you know he likes you, right?” sungho says, breaking the silence.

your breath catches. “what?”

sungho gives you a look. “don’t play dumb. it’s so obvious.”

you open your mouth, then close it again.

“you like him too, don’t you?”

your heart pounds. “i—”

“you do.”

he says it like it’s a fact. like it’s undeniable.

you swallow, gripping your bag tighter.

“so what are you so afraid of?”

you inhale sharply because the answer is simple.

you’re afraid of what people will say. afraid of how things will change. afraid of being wrong about him.

but most of all...

you’re afraid of how much you want this. how much you want him.

sungho watches as the realization washes over your face.

then, after a beat, he sighs.

“look,” he says, voice gentler now, “i’m not telling you what to do. but if you don’t talk to him soon, you’re gonna lose him.”

the words hit harder than you expect.

“i just want my friend back to normal so just… think about it, yeah?"

you don’t respond... but you don’t need to.

because the moment sungho walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you already know.

you have to fix this.

before it’s too late.

—

days pass, and taesan doesn’t talk to you.

he doesn’t show up at school, and every time you hear the familiar buzz of a new notification, you convince yourself it’s not boynextdoor. not that you’d check it, anyway. not that you’re even tempted.

except you are.

the silence is suffocating.

the whole thing has weighed on you. his disappointment, your hesitation, the stupid comment from leeseo and hanbin earlier, everything. the guilt keeps clawing at you from the inside. and each time you see a new picture of taesan or one of his bandmates posted online, each time you hear about them playing a new show, you feel like you’re suffocating in your own indecision.

but you don’t do anything about it.

because you’re scared.

scared of what your friends will think. scared of what your whole reputation means, scared of breaking the illusion that you’ve built up for all these years. you’ve worked so hard to maintain this image, to fit in with the people you’ve always been around, the friends you’ve known for years. how can you just throw that all away for some guy you barely know?

for taesan?

no.

it’s safer to stay where you are.

so you do what you’ve always done. keep your distance. make yourself busy. keep your head down. you don’t need to deal with whatever feelings you’ve got swirling in your chest. you don’t need to question everything.

but when you hear the news about BOYNEXTDOOR performing at an underground gig that weekend, something in you snaps.

it’s all too much.

you can’t just keep pretending.

you can’t keep telling yourself that everything’s fine when you know it isn’t.

you’re standing in the middle of the hallway when the poster catches your eye. the colors are bright, the date is bold. BOYNEXTDOOR. their name plastered across the top in big letters, their faces a reminder of everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

the gig is that Saturday.

you don’t know how long you stand there, staring at the poster, feeling the weight of your own indecision. your heart is hammering in your chest, a familiar sense of unease gnawing at your insides.

but this time, you don’t look away.

this time, you’re not running from it.

you don’t tell anyone about it. not leeseo, not hanbin. not even sungho. you don’t need their opinions right now. you’ve heard enough of them. you just… need to make a decision. your own decision.

when the night of the gig arrives, you feel sick to your stomach.

your heart thuds against your ribcage, the adrenaline buzzing through your veins like you’re about to jump off a cliff. you’re standing outside the venue, the doors just up ahead, with a small crowd already lining up in front of you. the building’s dark, unmarked by anything other than the small neon sign above the entrance. the thumping music from inside pulses through the walls, and for a second, you think about turning around, walking away.

but you don’t. you walk forward.

because for the first time in ages, you don’t care about what anyone thinks.

and you want to see taesan.

you want to see him so badly that it almost hurts.

you missed him. his smirk, his teases, his presence.

the crowd outside is packed with people, but you push through, feeling the warmth of the others as they chat amongst themselves, their energy high. you walk in, and the moment you do, the music hits you. the bass reverberates in your chest, and for a split second, you forget everything.

until you see them.

you see BOYNEXTDOOR on the stage, taesan right at the front, his guitar slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the crowd. when they meet yours, something shifts in his expression. he doesn’t smile, but there’s something there, something that makes you freeze in place.

but he doesn’t come over.

he doesn’t even move.

and you don’t know if that’s worse. if you should be relieved, or if you should be disappointed that he’s not even trying anymore.

you’re frozen, staring, and then you feel a tap on your shoulder.

woonhak.

he grins, the usual playful glint in his eyes. “hey, didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

you swallow, blinking, trying to force your heart to calm down. “yeah. well… i guess i changed my mind.”

woonhak studies you for a second, his smirk softening into something that’s just a little too knowing for your liking. “you’re here for taesan, huh?”

“i—” you start, but you can’t finish the sentence. because it’s true. you are here for him.

woonhak laughs, nudging you with his elbow. “you’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

you look away, not answering.

he doesn’t press. instead, he just leads you to a spot near the front, a little closer to the stage. you can see the others now: jaehyun, riwoo, leehan, sungho. all of them lost in the music. and then you see taesan again, this time a little closer, his fingers moving across the strings of his guitar as if nothing in the world matters but the rhythm.

it’s intoxicating.

and, as you stand there, all you can think about is how badly you want to be a part of his world.

you glance at woonhak, and there’s a glint of something in his eyes, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. he catches your gaze and gives you a little nudge with his shoulder. “maybe you should talk to him after the set,” he says, his voice light, teasing.

you bite your lip. you want to say something, anything, but instead you just nod.

because the truth is, you’re terrified.

you’re terrified of what taesan might say. terrified of what might happen if you admit how you feel, how wrong everything has felt without him around, how much you’ve been hurting without the chance to make things right.

the set continues, and you find yourself caught in the music, in the connection between the band and the crowd. for the first time in forever, you feel like you belong. you feel like you could belong.

and when the music finally dies down and the crowd goes wild, cheering for an encore, you glance over at woonhak. he looks at you, then at taesan, and then back at you, his knowing grin widening.

“he’s waiting for you,” he says quietly.

you can’t breathe for a second, your heart thudding louder than the sound of the crowd.

you finally nod, the decision clear now, undeniable.

you’ve kept up appearances for too long. it’s time to stop running.

you push your way through the crowd, heading straight for the backstage area. you don’t look back. you don’t care who sees.

because, finally, you’re choosing him.

you can feel woonhak and leehan’s eyes on you as you make your way through the crowd. it’s like the air is thicker, charged with anticipation, but you don’t stop. your feet move on their own, pulling you toward the backstage area where the rest of BOYNEXTDOOR is winding down after the set.

the music fades behind you, but the echo of the bass still thrums in your chest. every step feels heavier than the last, but somehow, you don’t want to turn back. you’ve already made the decision, and now all that’s left is to face him.

taesan.

the backstage area feels quieter now that the excitement of the performance has died down. the crowd’s energy is still buzzing in the air, but it’s starting to feel distant, like an echo that doesn’t quite reach the calm of the space you’re standing in.

taesan’s there, still leaning against the wall with his guitar case by his side, but now there’s an air of distance about him. he barely looks at you when you enter. his attention drifts elsewhere, to the other band members, to anything but you.

your heart sinks at the coldness, the disappointment you see reflected in his posture. you want to go to him, to explain everything, to make it right, but you can’t. something’s stopping you. he’s clearly upset, maybe even mad, and you’re not sure how to fix it.

woonhak, the youngest, is still grinning over the fact that you’ve come here tonight. leehan, always the one to watch everything unfold with an amused look, exchanges a knowing glance with him. both of them seem to be aware of something that you aren’t yet, but you can’t quite place what.

the tension in the air is thick, and for a moment, you almost wish you hadn’t walked in here at all.

then, jaehyun breaks the silence.

“isn’t that y/n?”

he’s pointing at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly surprised to see you standing there. taesan’s wiping his face off with a towel, but his gaze never leaves you.

you freeze, a bit caught off guard by the attention. jaehyun, always so direct, seems more curious than anything. but his question lingers in the air, and all eyes are now on you.

you glance at taesan, but his expression is unreadable. his gaze is fixed on the ground, his body language telling you all you need to know: he’s not ready to engage, not yet.

“yeah,” leehan says, his tone teasing. “didn’t expect to see you here, y/n.”

you swallow, trying to steady yourself. “i wanted to see the performance,” you say, voice quiet, but clear. “i told you i would.”

you can’t tell if they believe you or not.

woonhak’s grin is still there, his eyes glinting with mischief. he looks between you and taesan, sensing the tension before anyone else. “yeah, sure,” he says, as if he knows something you don’t. “we all know how much taesan cares about you coming to the show.”

taesan doesn’t react, but you can feel his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. it’s impossible to ignore.

there’s a long pause, and in that moment, you wonder if you’ve made the wrong choice. if you shouldn’t have come, if you shouldn’t have tried to make things right, because it feels like taesan is shutting you out more with every passing second.

but then, just as you’re about to leave, something unexpected happens.

taesan looks up. just a glance, but it’s enough to make your heart skip. you meet his gaze, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

then, without a word, taesan walks past you, ignoring you as if you’re not even there. you can feel the sting of it, the weight of the unspoken disappointment in his actions. your chest tightens, and for a second, it feels like your feet are stuck in place.

you want to call out to him, to stop him, but you’re frozen. you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to make this right.

woonhak watches you, his grin still there but a little less playful now. he gives you a knowing look. it’s like he’s aware of the struggle inside you, aware of the way taesan is pulling away even though he knows you’re standing there

“he’s not mad at you,” woonhak says softly, catching your eye. “he’s just… not sure how to act around you, y/n.”

you don’t reply at first, still processing the way taesan ignored you, the way his distance felt like a rejection. but woonhak’s words sink in.

“he likes you,” leehan adds, his tone more serious now. “but he’s not good at showing it.”

the words hit you harder than you expect. they settle in your chest, a mix of confusion and longing. taesan likes you? it doesn’t feel like it, not when he won’t even look at you.

“why doesn’t he just... say it then?” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

woonhak shrugs. “he’s still trying to figure it out, y/n. he doesn’t want to mess things up, especially when you’ve got so much going on with your friends and everything.”

you stare at him, your heart beating faster. you can’t deny it now. it’s clear that something is there between you and taesan. something you haven’t been able to admit to yourself until now.

and yet, despite everything, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re caught between two worlds. your friends, your reputation, and then taesan, someone you never expected to feel this strongly about.

“he’s scared, y/n,” leehan says, his voice quieter now. “he doesn’t want to be the reason you ruin your life.”

you look at taesan again, still standing off to the side, conversing with jaehyun, his face unreadable. his posture is stiff, almost like he’s bracing for something. maybe he’s bracing for you to walk away, for you to choose the people you’ve always been with instead of him.

you feel the weight of it all. the pull of your friends, the pressure of their expectations. and then there’s taesan, standing there, vulnerable in his own way, waiting for you to decide.

the silence between you two feels like it could last forever, and yet, it’s the moment you need to make the choice.

but you’re scared.

you don’t want to lose your friends, don’t want to mess up everything you’ve worked so hard for. but you also don’t want to lose taesan.

the choice weighs heavy on your chest, but you can’t stay frozen forever. you can’t keep ignoring what you feel.

and, maybe for the first time, you finally make a decision.

time to come clean.

the quiet hum of the room feels more suffocating than peaceful. you’re sitting on the edge of one of the couches backstage, fiddling with your phone aimlessly. it’s been a few minutes since taesan walked away, and you’re still left with this gnawing feeling that you could have done something different.

the members of BOYNEXTDOOR are scattered around the area, some talking amongst themselves, others sitting with instruments or music sheets in hand. it’s almost like nothing happened. but you know that’s not true. you can feel the weight of the tension hanging in the air, especially when you catch woonhak’s gaze across the room. he’s giving you a sympathetic smile, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.

you want to walk up to taesan, to explain everything, but you can’t. he’s still standing there, staring off into the distance, his arms crossed.

instead, you settle for hanging out with riwoo.

“you okay?” he asks, sitting next to you with a curious look. his voice is light, but there’s an edge of concern in it.

you nod, offering a tight smile. “yeah, just…” you trail off, unsure of how to explain what just happened. you don’t want to sound like you’re complaining about taesan. it’s not like you’re angry with him. in fact, you can’t even be angry with him when you’re just as confused.

“he’s hard to read, huh?” riwoo says, his voice calm but knowing. it’s like he’s read your mind.

you glance at him, surprised. “yeah. i don’t know what’s going on with him. it’s like, one minute, he’s all… well, taesan, and then the next, he’s distant. it’s frustrating.”

riwoo leans back on the couch, resting his head against the backrest as he watches the others in the room. “taesan’s always been like that. he’s not great with… emotions, you know?”

you blink at him, unsure where this conversation is headed. “so what, he just shuts people out?”

“basically,” riwoo says with a slight shrug. “he’s not really used to being honest about how he feels. but I think he does like you, y/n. he just doesn’t know how to show it without pushing you away.”

the words hit you like a freight train. taesan likes you? all this time, you’ve been so unsure of what he wanted, what he needed, and now it feels like it’s been right in front of you.

“but he’s been ignoring me…” you say quietly, almost to yourself.

“he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re... well, you’re you,” riwoo adds, his tone light but thoughtful. “you’ve got your own friends, your own reputation. taesan doesn’t want to mess that up for you. he’s scared of it, y’know?”

that was the second time it's come across you. taesan cares about your reputation, maybe more than you.

the pieces start to click together. you’ve been dancing around your feelings for taesan, unsure whether to admit them or not, and now it seems like he’s been doing the same thing. the difference is, you’ve been letting the fear of judgment hold you back. taesan’s fear is different. he’s afraid of losing you.

the realization makes you uneasy, but in a good way. there’s something so real about the way riwoo describes taesan, and for once, you can’t help but want to believe it.

just as you’re about to respond to riwoo's comment, woonhak appears, practically bouncing into the room. his eyes are wide, and there’s a mischievous grin on his face.

“you should go talk to taesan,” he says, the grin never leaving his face. “he’s still being stubborn, but I think he’s ready to listen.”

you frown. “how do you know?”

“because,” woonhak says with an exaggerated shrug, “he’s been pacing around like a lost puppy ever since you saw eachother.” he looks between you and riwoo. “and leehan’s not much better. he’s the one who convinced him to talk, so… yeah. go talk to him. he’ll listen... eventually.”

you want to tell woonhak you’re not ready, that you don’t know how to fix things with taesan, but something in the way woonhak says it makes you feel like you have to.

“just go for it,” riwoo says, giving you an encouraging nod. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

you nod, though your heart is pounding in your chest. you stand up slowly, feeling a little out of place in the midst of all the quiet chaos around you. taesan’s still by the wall, his posture tense. you can tell he’s trying to convince himself that it’s fine, that everything is fine, convincing himself you’re just here for the music, just like the others.

but you know that’s not true.

he knows that's not true.

as you approach him, you hesitate for a second, unsure of what to say. but before you can even open your mouth, taesan speaks first, his voice low and a little defensive.

“you didn’t have to come, you know,” he says, not looking at you. his voice is almost too casual, as if he’s trying to brush off the seriousness of the moment. “I mean, this isn’t really your kind of music.”

you bite your lip, fighting the urge to just walk away. his words sting, but you know he’s just trying to protect himself.

“I came because I wanted to see you,” you say, your voice steady even though you’re terrified of how it sounds. “I didn’t come for the music, taesan. I came for you.”

there’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think you’ve said the wrong thing. but then taesan finally looks up at you, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place.

“you don’t have to pretend for me, y/n,” he says, his voice quieter now. “you don’t need to act like you like this stuff just to be around me. I get it.”

you shake your head, your heart racing. “I’m not pretending. I… I like you, taesan.”

taesan freezes, his expression softening slightly. he opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. instead, he exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“you’re not just saying that because you’re here, right?” he asks, his voice uncertain.

“no,” you reply, taking a step closer. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I like you, taesan. I’ve liked you since you looked at me in the library, and I’m sorry I was too scared to admit it before.”

there’s a brief silence, and then taesan finally lets out a breath he seems to have been holding for a long time. his lips curl into a small, almost shy smile.

“you’ve always liked me?” he asks, his voice soft with a hint of disbelief.

“yeah,” you whisper. “I just… I was worried about what people would think. about what my friends would think.”

taesan’s expression softens even more, and he steps a little closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t have to choose, y/n. I never wanted you to. I just wanted you to be honest with yourself.”

you blink, surprised at how easy it is for him to say that. “honest with myself?”

“yeah,” he says, his voice low and steady now. “I just needed you to admit that you feel the same way about me. I didn’t want you to choose between me and your friends.”

you stare at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. it’s like a weight lifting off your shoulders, the tension you’ve carried with you for so long melting away.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, stepping closer. “I was scared.”

“it’s okay,” taesan says softly, his hand reaching for yours. “you don’t have to be anymore.”

and for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything’s finally making sense.

the moments following your confession feel like the longest stretch of time. taesan is standing in front of you, his presence almost suffocating, and for a split second, you’re unsure if he believes you. it’s the kind of silence that hangs in the air, thick and heavy, like it’s too much to fill with anything but the things unsaid.

taesan takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair, his eyes not quite meeting yours. it’s clear he’s thinking hard about something, but what? you can’t tell. your heart is pounding in your chest, and a part of you is terrified you’ve said too much, too soon, but another part is relieved. you’ve finally admitted it. finally let the truth out into the open.

and then taesan looks at you, his gaze softer now, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. “you really do like me?” he asks, his voice still unsure but laced with something else. maybe hope? maybe fear?

you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “yeah. I do.”

there’s a long pause, and you watch him carefully. his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, his lips pressed together as though he’s trying to figure out what to do next. you’re not sure if he’s angry, confused, or just processing everything, but you wait, giving him space to think it over.

“you should’ve told me sooner,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit it. but I guess I didn’t want to push you.”

you take a step closer, your heart fluttering nervously. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I didn’t want to mess things up with my friends, you know? I’ve had this group for years, and I didn’t want to seem like I was changing everything just because of you.”

taesan’s eyes soften as he watches you, and he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to wrap his head around what you’re saying. “I get it,” he says quietly.

his words settle into you, and you realize for the first time that maybe taesan’s always understood more than you gave him credit for. he’s not asking you to give up your friends, and he’s not trying to pull you away from the life you’ve built.

“so… what happens now?” you ask, a little unsure of where to go from here.

taesan shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, almost playful smile. “we figure it out. I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

you breathe a sigh of relief, the weight on your shoulders finally lifting. you’ve said what needed to be said, and taesan isn’t pulling away. instead, he’s looking at you with a new understanding, and it makes your heart feel lighter than it has in a long time.

just then, you hear footsteps approaching, and you turn to see woonhak and leehan walking toward you, both of them wearing knowing grins. leehan gives you a teasing wink, while woonhak’s grin is a little wider, almost smug.

“well, well,” woonhak says, his voice loud enough for taesan to hear, “looks like someone’s finally come clean.”

you feel your face heat up, and taesan groans softly, running a hand through his hair again in that familiar frustrated gesture. “don’t start,” he mutters under his breath.

leehan raises an eyebrow, clearly not willing to let taesan off the hook. “we saw the whole thing. looks like y/n’s got the guts after all.”

you glance over at taesan, who’s still avoiding eye contact, and let out a soft laugh. “it wasn’t exactly how I planned it.”

“hey,” woonhak says, his tone suddenly much more serious. “we’re not here to mess with you two. but, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you told him.”

taesan looks up at him, his expression softening, though he still doesn’t seem to know how to react. “you guys were waiting for this to happen?”

“obviously,” leehan replies, flashing a grin at you. “we could see it coming from a mile away. it was just a matter of time.”

woonhak chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “honestly, I’m just glad y/n showed up at the concert. I knew you’d figure it out.” he looks at you with a smile that feels almost reassuring. “you were meant to be here, y/n. not just for the music.”

you can’t help but smile, feeling the warmth in woonhak’s words. it’s as if, for the first time, you realize that taesan and his friends aren’t the strangers you’ve built them up to be in your head. they’re people you can trust. and taesan… well, taesan is someone who’s been waiting for you to figure out what your heart really wants.

taesan doesn’t say anything right away. instead, he just looks at you, his gaze softening. there’s a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you haven’t noticed before. he’s not the tough, unapproachable guy you assumed him to be. he’s someone who just needed you to meet him halfway.

“I guess it’s about time I stopped running from it,” taesan finally says, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s admitting something to himself. “I don’t want to lose you, y/n.”

you step closer, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. for the first time in a long time, the uncertainty you’ve carried around fades, and you can finally breathe easy.

“I don’t want to lose you either, taesan,” you say, your voice steady.

taesan looks at you, and for a brief moment, there’s this look of understanding that passes between the two of you. he doesn’t need you to make a choice between him and your friends. he just needs you to be true to yourself.

“so,” leehan starts, breaking the silence with a grin. “what now? you two gonna kiss, or what?”

you and taesan both freeze, the air suddenly feeling thicker than ever. taesan blushes, his face turning a shade of red that matches yours, while woonhak laughs loudly, clearly amused by the awkwardness he’s just created.

“shut up, leehan,” taesan mutters, clearly embarrassed but secretly relieved.

you chuckle softly, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you. it’s a different kind of silence this time. comfortable. familiar.

“you know,” you say after a beat, your voice teasing, “I think we’ll figure it out.”

taesan looks at you, his smile finally breaking through the tension. “yeah. we will.”

and for the first time, you realize that maybe the hardest part wasn’t admitting your feelings. maybe the hardest part was just letting yourself be honest.

—

the weeks following your confession feel like an endless rollercoaster, full of highs and lows. at first, your friends, especially leeseo and hanbin, don’t take the news as well as you’d hoped. you knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you didn’t expect it to hit this hard.

when you first told them about taesan, about how you felt, the reactions were... well, less than ideal. leeseo had stared at you like you’d just announced you were leaving the country, and hanbin had seemed more confused than upset. but the hardest part was seeing the disappointment in their eyes.

it wasn’t that they didn’t care about you. in fact, it was the complete opposite. they cared about you so much that it was more that they couldn’t understand why you would want to throw away years of reputation you built up, for someone who, to them, was nothing more than a rebellious skater.

"are you really sure about this?" leeseo had asked, her voice quieter than usual, her expression tight with worry. "taesan… he’s not like us. he’s part of a different world. why risk it?"

hanbin hadn’t said much at first, just quietly watching, as if waiting for you to change your mind. but the uncertainty was there, hanging between you all, heavy and uncomfortable.

you had tried to explain it to them, tried to make them understand that this wasn’t just some fleeting crush or an act of rebellion. it was real. but they just couldn’t see it. not at first, anyway.

it hurt more than you cared to admit, seeing their disapproval. these were your friends. the people you’d known since childhood. and suddenly, it felt like you were standing on the edge of something, unsure whether to jump or pull back. the fear of losing them, of being alone in your decision, gnawed at you, but something deep inside you knew that you couldn’t keep pretending. you couldn’t keep hiding how you felt.

you just had to trust that the people who truly mattered would eventually see the truth in your actions. that they would come around and accept you for who you were becoming.

and in the end, they did.

it wasn’t immediate, but as time passed, leeseo and hanbin began to understand. it wasn’t about taesan being a skater or part of a different crowd. it wasn’t about the fact that he was in a band or that he lived a life they didn’t understand. it was about the way he made you feel seen, understood, and for the first time in a long time, happy.

"so, when are you bringing him to hang out?" leeseo had asked one afternoon, her voice teasing but genuine. "I want to see what the big deal is with this guy."

hanbin had smiled too, though there was still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "yeah, he’s got to be something special for you to stick with it this long."

and that was when you realized they weren’t just accepting your decision. they were supporting it. and that, more than anything, was all you needed.

taesan, for his part, had been more than understanding. he’d known how hard it had been for you to get to this point, to finally let go of the mask you’d been wearing, the one that kept you safe in the comfort of your old life. but he never judged you for it.

he made sure you never regretted your decision, pulling you into his world with open arms.

he showed you his music, the songs that were both raw and beautiful, filled with emotions he couldn’t always express in words. you’d always been the academic type, focused on grades and assignments, but now you found yourself getting lost in the music, in the way taesan played his guitar with such passion, as if the notes were extensions of his very soul.

late-night skating became a regular part of your life, too. at first, you were hesitant, worried you’d embarrass yourself or make a fool of yourself in front of his friends. but taesan had a way of making you feel like you belonged. the others, woohak, leehan, riwoo, and jaehyun, had all accepted you with open arms. they didn’t care that you didn’t have the same history with skating that they did. they just cared that you were there, trying something new.

taesan would always smile, his gaze softening as he watched you push yourself, getting better each time. "you're doing great," he’d say, always encouraging, never dismissive. "just keep at it."

and the laughter, oh, the laughter. you had never known what it was like to be this carefree, to just let go and enjoy the moment. taesan had a way of pulling you into his world of easy-going fun, where everything seemed light and full of possibility. the worries that had once weighed you down melted away whenever you were with him.

one evening, after a long session of skating under the city lights, you sat together on the rooftop of a building, the wind blowing softly through your hair. taesan leaned back, his head resting on the edge of the roof, looking up at the stars.

"you know," he said, voice low and casual, "I never thought I’d find someone who’d get me this way."

you glance at him, feeling a smile tug at your lips. "what, you’re not that hard to get."

taesan laughs softly, turning his head to meet your gaze. "you’d be surprised. i mean, maybe when you're not putting up a front it might be different," he jokes,

you nod, understanding more than you ever had before. "yeah, I get that."

he smiles, that real smile of his that always makes your heart skip a beat.

it’s in moments like these that you realize just how much you’ve changed, how much you’ve grown since you met him. you stop worrying about what others think, stop pretending to be someone you’re not. the people who truly matter, the ones who care about you for who you really are, will always be there for you. and those are the people you need to focus on.

you’ve stopped hiding. you’ve stopped pretending. and now, with taesan by your side, you feel like you can face the world as yourself. no masks, no fear. just you and him, and whatever the future holds.

—

it’s been a few months since you stopped hiding, since you started living life as yourself, unashamed, and unafraid. taesan’s world has become your world, and yours became his. BOYNEXTDOOR has started gaining more traction, the band’s energy electrifying, pulling in more fans with every performance. it’s not just the music that’s drawing people in, though. it’s the rawness. the authenticity that the group radiates. and as they grow, so does your connection with them.

sungho, riwoo, jaehyun, leehan, and woonhak. each of them has become an important part of your life. you’ve spent so many late nights with them now, at shows and skateparks, in studios and cafés, and each moment feels more natural than the last. the guys have all grown to appreciate your company, your unguarded nature, your willingness to let go of the walls you once had up.

woonhak’s grin is constant whenever you’re around, and he’s never shy about throwing playful remarks your way. “you know, if you hang out with us more often, you might start getting better at skating. or maybe you’ll just get really good at cheering us on,” he teases, elbowing you gently as you both watch taesan show off his latest tricks at the skatepark.

you laugh, shaking your head. “I think I’m good with cheering for now.”

“yeah, yeah,” he says with a wink. “we’ll see.”

leehan, quieter than the others but equally as kind, has begun to open up to you more too. you find yourself in deep conversations with him after practice, talking about everything from music to fish, which makes you wonder why he has a huge interest in fish. he’s got a way of listening that makes you feel heard, truly heard, and it’s something you’ve come to value in a way you didn’t expect.

“you know,” leehan says one night as you sit beside him on the band’s tour bus, “sometimes, I think you understand us more than we give you credit for.”

you smile softly, a little surprised. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs, staring out of the window. “well, it’s just… you fit in, y’know? and I don’t think you’ve ever tried to be anything other than who you are. it’s refreshing.”

the compliment hits you harder than you expected, and you realize just how far you’ve come since that first day of being unsure about yourself, hiding in plain sight.

jaehyun, the loud and often mischievous member, is always up for a laugh. he’s started making jokes about you and taesan, though it’s never mean-spirited. “so, you two are still doing that whole ‘silent romance’ thing, huh?” he teases one afternoon as the band gathers for a quick break before the next performance.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “we’re not silent, jaehyun. we just don’t broadcast everything.”

he raises an eyebrow, his grin mischievous. “uh-huh, sure. whatever you say.”

taesan, of course, just watches the back-and-forth with a small smile, his gaze soft. you’re starting to learn how to read him, how his eyes light up with affection and pride when he looks at you, even when he tries to hide it.

“you’re in trouble now,” riwoo adds from the side, glancing between you and taesan.

but there’s something deeper there in the way the group interacts now. it’s not just about the music or the laughs. they’ve truly embraced you as one of their own. you’re no longer just the outsider; you’re part of their family.

and you realize, as the weeks go by, that taesan’s music is beginning to reflect the change you’ve both undergone. he’s been writing more, pouring his heart into the lyrics, and it’s clear from the way he talks about the process that it’s more than just songs to him. it’s his way of expressing everything he’s ever wanted to say, but never could.

one day, as you sit in the studio, scribbling down some notes for your own personal project, taesan walks in, his usual calm demeanor now mixed with a hint of excitement.

“I finished something new,” he says, looking at you. “I want you to hear it.”

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “what’s it called?”

“it’s… well, it’s about us,” he explains, shifting a little nervously. “about how I felt when you finally stopped pretending you didn’t care.”

your heart skips a beat as you look up at him, but you don’t say anything. you just follow him to the music setup, where he starts fiddling with his guitar.

he strums the first few chords, and instantly, you know it’s something different. it’s raw and honest, with a touch of rebellion, the sound of someone finally coming into their own after fighting their own doubts.

(listen to sk8er boi during this part guys !!)

when the final chord rings out, the room is silent. you’re sitting there, stunned, unable to process the feelings swirling inside you. it’s a song about you, about how taesan has always been there, quietly waiting for you to see him for who he truly is

he looks at you, his expression soft, almost unsure. “do you like it?”

you can’t say anything at first. your throat feels tight, and there’s a lump in your chest that you can’t shake. finally, you nod. “taesan… it’s perfect.”

he smiles, though it’s shy, as if he’s relieved. “I’m glad.”

later that evening, you’re in the crowd at one of BOYNEXTDOOR’s shows, feeling the energy buzz around you. the crowd is loud, excited, the air electric with anticipation. the lights dim, and the first notes of a familiar tune fill the air.

you recognize the song immediately. it’s the one taesan wrote. and as he steps forward, microphone in hand, he scans the crowd, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment. there’s no hiding the way his eyes soften when he spots you.

you stand there, in the middle of the crowd, heart racing, as taesan sings the song he wrote for you. the lyrics are even more powerful live, the music thrumming through your body.

woonhak, stands beside you after the set, noticing the way you were both looking at each other. he grins, making eye contact with leehan, who’s watching from the side. they share a knowing look, as if they’ve been expecting this moment all along.

“hey,” woonhak says quietly, elbowing you. “looks like someone’s got the spotlight.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. you’re finally here, in this moment, with taesan. no more hiding, no more pretending.

and as the final chords ring out, you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

— ty for reading pookies :) —

~ fic taglist - @the0p

~ bnd taglist - @bxnedo

~ perm taglist - @s0shroe

[chapel-of-rizztual]

It was Dew’s turn to cook dinner for everyone, which meant it was actually Aether’s turn to cook while Dew sat on the counter and watched. It was nearing 6pm and slowly ghouls would start filtering their way into the den. Rain had already made his way to the den, heading upstairs to shower the lake water off his skin. 

“Bets on who’s in next?” Dew asked, his feet swinging off the counter. 

Aether stirs as the tomato sauce he’s making. 

“Mountain, I think.” He reaches for the salt. “He’s never normally far behind Rain.” 

Dew let out a giggle. 

“Are you going to pat him down like you threatened last week.” 

Mountain was notorious for rescuing injured animals and nurturing them back to health, that was no secret, everyone around the ministry knew him be Snow White. But when Aether had found out that he’d been sneaking little animals, mostly lizards and snakes, into the den and keeping them in an empty fish tank he had, Aether had threatened to do a tsa style search on him before he was allowed inside. They weren’t allowed pet, they all knew that, it was made very clear to them, and Aether didn’t want to get on the wrong side of anyone. He’d seen first hand what happened if you pissed off the higher ups. 

“Depends how sneaky he is when he comes in.” 

He flicks the kettle on to boil water for pasta. 

As if on queue, the back door opens. Mountain tries to sneak in, he really does, but he’s tall and clumsy and speed isn’t something that comes naturally to him so him trying to rush past Dew and Aether ends with a spatula being pressed to his chest and him being pressed up against the fridge with Dew laughing maniacally behind him. 

Aether presses the spatula to his throat.

“Empty your pockets.” He demands. 

“I-what? Why?” Mountain stutters. 

Aether narrows his eyes. 

“You know why.” 

Mountain holds his hand up in surrender. 

“I have nothing this time, I promise.” 

“We're demons from hell, promises mean nothing to us.” Dew chimes on from behind them. 

Mountain glares at him over Aethers head. He was on his side when he was playing with one of the lizards he’s snuck in. 

Aether takes a step back, lowering the spatula.

“You promise.” 

“I prom-“

“I can see it moving in your pocket, you lying little shit!” Aether’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

Mountain smirks at him.

“Maybe I’m just happy to see you.” 

“He does like being pinned down, we all know that.” Dew pipes up again. 

Mountain does a silent cheer, Dew’s back on his side. 

“See?” 

Aether shakes his head.

“Pockets. Empty them.” 

Mountain sighs and digs into his pocket and pulls out a frog? Or a toad? Aether isn’t sure but it’s some kind of amphibian. He places on the counter, right next to Dew making the smaller ghoul scream, loudly, and jump from the Counter and into Aethers arms in an almost scooby-doo  like way. 

“What the fuck is that fucking thing?!” He screeches. 

Mountain beams at him. 

“It’s a frog, Specifically a Moor frog. I found him in the lake when I went to see Rain.” 

“Mount, you can’t keep him, we’ve talked about this.” Aether says, trying to balance Dew in his arms. 

“He’s too ugly to keep anyway.”

 Dew’s still eyeing the frog suspiciously as it hops along the counter.

“Well your ugly and we kept you.” 

Dew glares at Mountain with a small growl. 

Mountain ignores Dew and pouts at Aether. 

“Can’t I keep for today? And tomorrow I’ll go to the lake with Rain and return him?” 

Aether, never being able to say no to Mountain or his damn puppy dog eyes, sighs.

“Just for tonight. I mean it, he better be gone by tomorrow.” 

Mountain smiles at him, wide and full of fang.

“I promise.” 

He scoops the frog up in his hands, still smiling, and heads towards the stairs to go to his room. He has absolutely no intentions of returning the frog. It was his now.