#im not wiping your ass for you lmao

[feelingemotjons]

We all learned how to say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious so I think y'all will be okay

[rosenclaws]

Birds of a Feather || Old Man!Logan x Reader x Worst!Logan

summary: Logan loves you even if he can't say it but he knows that given his old age he's been lacking in the intimacy area. When a strange portal opens up and another Logan tumbles out of it, things get a little messy. (Or Worst Logan cucks Old Man Logan)

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, cucking, fingering, rough sex, cum eating, masturbation, thigh riding, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, mating press, doggy style, dirty talk, kinda mean!worst logan (he taunts old man logan a lot), slight pain kink (Logan), ass play, nipple play, breast play. Also neither logan ever interact with each other beyond talking.

a/n: Soooo Merry Christmas!! Here is my gift to all of you lmao. So to set a few things up, At the start both men are called Logan but a couple paragraphs in is when I separate them into James and Logan. I really hope it doesn't get confusing but I did my best lol. I really hope this lives up to peoples expectations im kinda nervous lol. Anyways happy holidays and I hope u love it!!!

Logan was an old man now. The adamantium was seeping itself into his blood. Killing him. It had been for years but with his healing factor starting to fail him the poisoning was truly taking its effect. He was weaker, tired. His heart was touched by a poison and it was turning him cold. There's only one good thing in his life now and it's you.

You're too kind. He tried to keep you away from his fucked up life but you were relentless. You were an experienced nurse who could take care of Charles. Free of charge. He fought you at every step of the way. Not wanting your pity. But he caved. 

Eventually you started taking care of him too. You were just too pretty, too charming. He couldn't stay away. This old man doesn't believe he gets to be happy and you try to change his mind every day. He did his best to take care of you too but the one area he knows he's lacking is the sex life. He tries, he really does. But he's old and while you're the sexiest thing on the planet, sometimes he just can't keep it up or he just can't finish.

It's embarrassing. Humiliating. You wave him off, telling him that it's not a big deal. That he still pleases you in a million other ways. Riding his face, his big fingers, you don't need his cock to know that he can take care of you. But it still bothers him. Still you lived your lives and things were fine. Until something weird happened. Really fucking weird. A large yellow portal opened up in your house. Logan bared his claws and pushed you behind him, ready to fight whatever the hell stepped out of it. 

To both of your shock another...him? 

Beaten up and bruised but its him. He looked younger but his hair was in these little tuffs and he was wearing a god awful yellow suit. He was kind of cute. Is this what your Logan would have looked like when he was younger? You snap out of your thinking, this is another man. It's Logan but not Logan. 

"Fucking shit!" The other Logan yells as the yellow door closes behind him. 

"Wade you dumb motherfucker I'm going to rip your head off!" He roars. He turns around, wiping the blood from his face. His eyes go wide when he sees you. He calls your name and steps towards you. Your Logan growls, putting up his claws. 

"Back the fuck up bub." The other Logan looks between the two of you and just narrows his eyes. Both their shiny claws come out to threaten the other. 

"Logan?" You call softly. Both of the men turn to you. 

"Can we just talk?" They look at each other and slowly retract their claws. 

After getting both of them to calm down the other guy explains exactly how he got there. He's from another universe, another time. He was pulled from his world into this one by an asshole with a stupid face and red suit. His stupid friend was messing with a little time machine thingy he stole and now he's here. That was his summary of things. You...tried to grasp it. You live in a world with mutants so time travel and universe hopping wasn't exactly strange. But to see another Logan. He also keeps glancing at you. 

Every time he does James, you've decided to start calling your Logan by his childhood name to make it easier, James tightens his grip on your hand. The way this other Logan looks at you, they're such sad eyes. He must have had a you in the other universe. 

"You can stay with us for a while, until you can get back to your time." You offer sweetly. 

"Thank you sweetheart." Logan's hands twitch, like he wants to reach out for you but he doesn't. James reluctantly gets up, pointing to the spare room and keeping his eyes on Logan's every move. 

"Don't drink my liquor." James mumbles as he heads to your bedroom. 

"He's the anchor being, really?" Logan whispers but you catch him. 

"What was that?" Logan freezes and turns to you.

"Nothing sweets," He flashes a smile you know he's lying. This Logan has the same tell as your own. 

"Who am I? In your world?" You ask curiously. Logan's face drops and he seems to close up. 

"No one, just a friend." He stalks to his room and closes the door behind you. Sighing you wonder what you've got yourself into now.

Living with two wolverines was not easy. Especially for you. They didn't get along and you had to play peacemaker. It was exhausting. Logan was nice enough to you but closed off and James was pissed off and protective. You were worried they'd slit each other's throats.

Plus...it was hard living with two Logan's when they were both ridiculously attractive. You never wanted anyone else but James. But this was just confusing. He was James but he wasn't but he looked like him and fuck he was ripped. James had a body to envy but so did Logan.

You were ashamed to admit you thought about Logan, just a little bit. You never let it go far but your dreams ran wild. They were hot and dirty and you woke up feeling soaked and guilty. You didn't say a word to James or Logan. What good could come of that? But they're perceptive men and you could feel Logan's eyes on you in the mornings. James' too. You couldn't escape them forever.

You should have known something was up the moment you walked through the front door and saw both boys sitting together in the living room. Normally they'd stay far away from each other.

"Hi..." You say suspiciously as you set down the grocery bags. 

"Come here." James pats his lap and you walk over. He pulls you down onto his knee and smashes his lips onto yours. You can't help but moan as his hand squeezes your ass. 

"James!" You moan as you try to push him away. You look over at Logan who was watching with hungry eyes. Licking his lips as his eyes trail up and down your body. 

"We had a talk sweetheart," Logan's voice is deep and primal as he stands up and grabs your chin.

"We both know what you want. The old man over here can't fuck you the way you want to be fucked." James tightens his grip on your waist as Logan flirts up a storm. 

"I...James I-" You look at James with a guilty look on your face. 

"It's okay honey, I want you to feel good." He says while glaring at Logan. He isn't going to just hand you over, but he knows you crave to be destroyed, ruined and he can't do that for you anymore. So reluctantly, he's going to let his other self fuck you. 

"Rule one. You don't get to come inside." James situates you on his thigh. Slowly rocking you on it until you're squirming. 

"Rule two. She says stop, you stop." Logan eyes your cleavage with a hungry look. 

"And rule three. You don't get to kiss her." He says possessively. 

Logan rolls his eyes but agrees to the terms. The three of you head to the bedroom. James sits on a chair facing the bed. He groans as his bones creak. You shoot him a worried look but he waves you off. Unbuttoning his pants and letting his cock free. Logan pulls your focus as he leaves hickeys up your shoulder, sucking on a particular spot on your neck. 

"Shit.." You groan. How did he know that was your sweet spot? You don't have much time to think as you hear a claw come out. Logan waits and you nod your head. He cuts through your clothes and they fall to the floor in shreds.

"Fuck." Logan groans as his hands trail up your body. Your bare skin drives him nuts. He closes his eyes as he takes his time exploring. Committing your body to memory, each curve and dip. 

"Missed this." He whispers softly for only him to hear. 

"Lay down sweetheart." Logan hums and you obey. Crawling onto the bed as Logan sheds his yellow suit. Your eyes trail down his built chest to his already hard cock. 

"Damn." 

"As big as your boyfriends over there?" Logan says with a smirk. 

He kneels onto the bed and grabs your legs, putting them around his waist as he bends down and goes back to biting your neck. Your nails dig into his biceps as you buck your hips. His cock presses against your thigh as he moves down your body. Stopping at your breasts, squeezing and teasing one of your nipples while sucking on the other. You whine when he bites down. Licking over the spot he bit. 

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." He smiles through his apology. He moves down your stomach and rests himself in between your legs. 

"Let's see how sweet you taste." You gasp as he buries himself into your cunt. His hands locking you in place, not letting you move against his pleasurable assault. 

"Logan!" You moan as you claw at his hair. Raking your hands through it until you find a grip. Pulling on it only eggs him on. His tongue moves against your clit over and over again. He refuses to let up as your moans get louder. You try to move but Logan growls like an animal. 

"Don't fucking move." He licks his lips as he raises his head. He looks over to James and smirks. 

"I see why you're so protective, wouldn't want to share a girl as sweet as this either." You look over to James who was slowly stroking his cock. It was painful watching another man feast on his cunt but he can see how much you're loving it. 

"Play with your tits." James commands as Logan goes back down. 

You listen and slowly play with your nipples. Squeezing your breasts and arching your back when Logan sticks his tongue into your cunt. Fuck he knows what he's doing.

"I can't- fuck! I-" Your back arches high as Logan sucks on your clit. 

He doesn't let up. One of his hands lets go of your thigh and his thumb presses on your clit. His tongue is now moving to your cunt. You roll your hips as Logan fucks you with his tongue and rubs your clit with his thumb.

It's a deadly combination that leaves you helpless. You come around his tongue hard. He groans as you leak around him. Licking up the sweet taste until he's satisfied. As you start to relax you feel Logan's tongue back on your clit. 

"Fuck!" You gasp in surprise as he places himself back on your cunt. 

"Too much! Can't take it!" You claw at the sheets but Logan pays no mind. 

"You can take it, always have you crying on my face." James says huskily. 

He wants a taste, mouth watering at the sinful sounds of your went pussy. Tears threaten to fall as Logan shoves two fingers into your cunt. He fucks you like he knows you, curling his fingers just how you like it. The sounds of your cunt get louder as he roughly fingers you. 

"One more come on, fuck give me one more." Logan props himself on his elbow as he pistons his fingers into you. 

"No No I can't." You cry. You don't want him to stop but it's so overwhelming. It's too much pleasure. 

"Yes you can." Logan cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear. 

"I got you," Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you come again. Your cunt clenching around his fingers as soak his hand. Both of them watch in awe as you make a mess. 

"Knew you could take it." Logan takes his fingers out and sucks them clean. He eyes James who hasn't taken his eyes off your cunt. 

"Want a taste old man?" You look over with pleading eyes at your boyfriend. You need him too. He winces as he stands up but leans down and gets between your legs. 

"Shh baby, just want a taste." James squeezes your thighs softly.

Your cunt twitches as he leans down and takes a fat lick up. You're on edge from your previous orgasms and it's borderline painful. Both men look up at you when you gasp. 

"I'm okay, just please be gentle." Your lips form into a small pout and James melts. 

"Course baby," He takes a few soft licks and you sigh as Logan strokes his cock. 

He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. Fuck he's big and hard and leaking over your hand. You can't help but notice it's different from your Logan too. But you keep that thought to yourself. James grunts as he gets back to his feet. His beard slick with your juices. He slips two fingers into your cunt and pumps them slowly. 

"Did so good, baby." He praises and you smile. You bite your lip and close your eyes as you take in James' thick fingers. They work you like magic, he knows you inside and out. 

"Are you gonna take my cock now sweetheart?" Logan purrs in your ear. 

"Tell me, what dirty fantasies do you have up there." Your breath catches in your throat as he cups your breasts in his hands. 

"Any positions you want to try? Face down ass up is always a favorite of mine, or I can put your legs on my shoulders and press you into the mattress." You moan just picturing each scenario in your head. 

"I can hold you against the wall. Bounce you on my cock so you're forced to take every inch of me.

"Even better, we can do all three." Logan lets go of you and nods his head, telling James to go sit down. James takes his fingers out and brings them to your lips, pushing them into your mouth as you suck on them like he trained you to do. 

"You okay?" James asks and you nod. 

"M'alright baby, are you okay?" You reach up and grab his hand, squeezing it gently. Is he still okay with this? If he's too uncomfortable you'd stop but he just smiles. He leans down and kisses your head, then moves to sit back down. 

"You've been talking a lot of shit bub." James says gruffly as Logan nudges his cock at your cunt. You're on your back with Logan pressing your hands into the mattress. 

"Don't worry old man, I'll take care of her." He slides in and you moan. He's going too slow, relishing with every inch.

"Faster!" You beg but Logan doesn't listen. Instead he pushes all the way in, balls deep and throbbing just being in your sweet cunt. 

"Oh fuck yeah." Logan purrs as he draws his hips back, slamming them back into you.

His pace is slow and hard. He watches your breasts bounce with each thrust, enjoying the way they move because of him. He's still got you pinned down and you want to move, you want to hold onto him as he fucks you but he won't let you. Logan's got stamina and it's clear as he doesn't let up. 

"Logan I-" He growls and pulls out much to your dismay. Manhandling you to your knees, grabbing your neck and forcing you to look right at James. You couldn't meet his eyes as Logan sinks back into you. 

"Ah ah, don't you want him to see how good you feel?" Logan says in a mocking tone. Smirking as he sees the fire lit in James' eyes.

"It's okay baby." James says as your head falls down to the comforter. Logan's just so big. He's overpowering all of your senses. He just keeps going and going. Logan tilts his head back as he digs his fingers into your hips. 

"Such a tight fucking cunt." He presses your face into the bed and grabs a handful of your ass. Pounding his hips into your pussy and loving every little noise he's fucking out of you. 

"She likes it when you choke her." James says, his breath ragged as he watches you get fucked. Logan chuckles and puts his hand around your neck.

"Of course she does, such a dirty little whore you got on your hands." His mouth is filthy, the degradation pouring from his mouth with ease.

James mixes his praise with his meanness but Logan is pure filth. The pressure on your throat sends you into fucking orbit. A fat cock pounding your sweet spot and rough hand on your throat is lethally delicious. You could die happy. 

"That's it, just let me use you sweetheart. Doesn't that sound fun? Being my little toy? Our little toy?" You look at James who's perked up at the mention of him, your cunt clenching around Logan's cock. 

"Oh that got you interested huh?" Logan teases. 

"You can be our plaything sweetheart, just nothing but a couple holes for us to use. Big man over here can stick his cock down your throat while I get the back." Logan rubs his hand along your ass, his thumb trailing down until its teasing your asshole. 

"He ever been in here before?" 

"O-Once." You mewl as he presses his thumb, not breeching you yet but knowing he could if he wanted to. 

"Is it as tight as her cunt?" He asks James. 

"Even tighter." James spreads his legs, he was getting hot. He sheds his jacket and unbuttons his white button up. Being this old and still ripped was so fucking unfair. His pants were already at his ankles and his cock was stirring just remembering that day.

How you cried and whined as he prepped you with his fingers. How fucking tight you felt when he slid his cock in. You were a mess, babbling and whining and begging to be ruined. James opens his eyes and sees you staring at him. Hunger in your eyes as you take in your handsome boyfriend. You may be getting fucked by another man but you only ever want James. 

“Maybe next time." Logan moves his hands back up your body.

He sits back on his knees. His hands come to your breasts and pull you up so your back is against his chest. His cock somehow sits deeper as he bounces his hips up and down, spearing his cock deeper and deeper. One of his arms wraps around your waist while the other plays with your breasts. 

"Logan!" You chant over and over. He's grunting in your ear whispering dirty things that only you can hear. 

"I know you're loving this sweetheart, you may love the old man but you love my cock more." You whine, words failing you as you try and talk. You start to go limp in Logan's grasp so he tightens his hold. 

"Come for me sweetheart, go on." He purrs as he lets go of your breasts to pleasure your clit. Rubbing small circles until you're squirming out of his grip, or trying to.

"It's okay, I got you." Logan whispers as you tilt your head back into his shoulder. 

Eyes rolling back as you fully submit to the man. Your legs shake uncontrollably as you come harder than you have in a while. He holds you up as you melt, your vision blurring as you're sent to cloud nine. You were clawing at his arms, digging your nails into him until he bleed which only made things better for Logan as he humps you like a crazed animal. Grunting and groaning. 

"Fuck!" He lets go of you to pull out, whimpering at the loss of your wet cunt.

He's rough with his hand as he jerks himself until he comes all over your back. Hot cum spurting from his cock and drenching itself on your skin. Your eyelids are heavy as you collapse into the bed, your body aches with a delicious sort of pain. With all the energy you could muster you glance over at James. He had cum staining his chest, breath ragged. He was worn out just from watching. 

"I love you." You say softly, reaching out for him. Your hand doesn't make it very far so he meets you halfway. His pants pulled up and cum still on his stomach. 

"Feel good baby?" He pets your head and you nod sleepily. Logan has gone off to take care of himself. Redressing into that god awful suit and coming back with a towel. 

"Can I?" He looks over at James who nods. Gently he wipes his cum off your back, cooing when he accidently stimulates your clit again. 

"Sorry sweetheart, just gotta get you nice and clean." Logan looks at James before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

James doesn't argue. Once you're cleaned up James tucks you into bed. He sits on the edge as you curl into his lap. Logan comes back with water and a towel for James. You're sound asleep by the time he's back. Logan smiles at you with a fondness that James can only recognize as love. 

"You know her." Logan looks up and shrugs. "Heard her say she was just a friend. You were lying." James continues. He knows Logan was lying because they're one in the same. They may not like each other but they knew each other better than anyone ever could, even you. 

"Look. You may think your life is fucking miserable but you had your family, you have her. You don't know how lucky you have it." Logan growls. 

"Lucky? You think becoming a shell of who we were is lucky?" James feels the anger surging inside of him. 

"At least she's alive in your world." Logan hisses. The truth comes out. Why Logan worked you like he already knew you, why he looked at you with such sad eyes. Why he listened to you. James caught all of it from the start but you never did. He looks down at you and you barely stir. 

"What happens to us, in the future?" James asks while staring at you. Timelines don't need two of the same man and he knows that. He just needs to hear it. "I don't think I'm supposed to say." Logan mumbles. 

"Who fucking cares?" Sighing Logan looks over at you before revealing the truth. 

"You die and your world starts to fall apart, that's why I got pulled into it."

James knew that death was coming. He could feel it. He had been slowly dying his whole life. That's not what bothers him. There's only one thing holding him back in being ready for the end. You. He can't leave you alone but it sounds like he does anyway. Failing you once again. 

"What about her? Is she okay?" 

"Yes.” James nods, he doesn’t ask what happens. He doesn’t want to know. As long as you’re okay then that’s all that matters. 

“Take care of her. Please.” James asks, for once letting Logan see his gruff façade break. 

It feels like an odd request. Both of them know it, but he wants you to be safe and protected and no one will love you more than him. In any timeline, any universe, he loves you. 

“I will.” Logan promises.

The two of them don’t share many words after that. It’s not like they’re suddenly friends now but they’re less hostile towards each other.

Eventually the strange yellow portal appears once again and Logan leaves. The time he spent here feels like a fever dream. Maybe it was? But you notice that James holds you a little tighter for a little longer now. He also rests a little easier. He knows where he’s headed, what’s to come.

But its a little easier knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have him. 

[strawberrykidneystone]

im thinking about sevika with reader who has long manicured nails and vika makes a habit of opening cans for her! like, at first reader asks her if she can open but as time passes sevika just opens it without even being asked, just does it as soon as the waitress leaves the can on the table and wont even interrupt the cards game/conversation she's in. its really silly but its such a small gesture of care :( like she knows reader cares about her pretty nails so she cares about it too :( could you write something like that? sorry if its too specific

UGH THIS IS SO CUTE

i love having long nails but they never last longer than 3 days bc i pick at them like crazy😭

you don’t even remember when you first asked sevika to open your cans for you, but she does it unconsciously atp

at first she thinks your nails are very impractical, but she learns to like them overtime, especially with how much care you put into your nails

she loves your long nails, especially when you get intricate designs

you came back with charms dangling off your nails one day and she was absolutely bewildered /pos

when you ask her what you should get, she always says purple and gold without fail (even if you’re a silver person smh🙄)

she will 100% tease you and asks how you wipe your ass LMAO

ANYWAYS

sevika’s love language is 1000000% acts of service so opening your cans for you turns into her civic duty

it doesn’t matter what she’s doing, if you get a can with a pop tab she’s opening it for you the second it’s placed down

okay yk the pop tab thing where if you get it off with the ring, the person you hand it to is supposed to kiss you? yeah, she’s an expert at it now and sometimes pulls off the ring with the middle still attached iykyk

doesn’t matter where she is or what she’s doing, if you hand her a can she will open it with ease for you

and maybe take the first sip as an “opener’s fee”

this escalates into her taking your card out of those IMPOSSIBLE readers

need to put jewelry on? she’s already there with the tiny clasp open

this woman will literally switch your earrings for you if you don’t want to deal with it while you have long nails

you need her to type something? she’s ready at your keyboard

if you ask really nicely while she’s in a good mood she’ll get matching nails with you (no acrylic for her) <3

if you use nail oil in front of her you have to share bc you gave her some once and she actually really liked how her nails felt after she washed her hands

will absolutely mourn your nails with you if one breaks/falls off and immediately offers to pay for a fix/new nail

she will 100% hold your nails like cynthia and ariana style

scratch her scalp with your nails and she’ll be in HEAVEN

she also loves when they scratch down her back during freaky time OMG WHO SAID THAT

a/n: i miss my cats

[storieswithvenus]

beach days // JJ Maybank x fem reader

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴

hi!!! i hope everyone is doing well. i’m so sorry for not posting in like ages lmao. writers block is actually kicking my ass for the last few weeks so i’ve literally just wrote this to try and get something out. if it’s bad, im sorry!!!

ALSO!!! thank you for 100 followers!!! your support is super appreciated and i love every single one of you!!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

the sun was glowing over the kildare county. the last few days had been the hottest ones of the season so far, and from what weather predictions had been reporting, it was only meant to be getting hotter.

you, sarah and kiara were all laying on your towels, the sand being too hot to lay on like yous usually did. the three of you laying there with your bikinis on, sunglasses covering your eyes and soaking up the sun. you enjoyed this time with your girls, you got some peace and quiet from the complete chaos the boys brought.

“BABE! look at this really cool trick me and JB can do,” the sound of your boyfriends voice attracting your attention. sitting up, along with sarah to watch what your two boyfriends could possibly be doing.

“this really isn’t going to go well, is it?” sarah whispered over to you, both of you staring intently at the two boys trying to do a backflip trick. you look over to her slightly, giggling at what she said, “this definitely is not going to go well. either one or both of them gets hurt.” you reply, your voice full of love as you turn your head back to the two boys.

“20 bucks it’ll be JJ who gets hurt”, kiara speaks up from the other side of you, she sits up to watch the boys. you and sarah let out a quiet laugh at kiaras comment, watching as the two of them get into position to try the trick again.

the two boys were standing with their backs together, walking away from each other a few feet, just to start doing back flips towards each other. what they didn’t realise however, was the fact that they were backflipping right into each other. so when they both collided and flipped over each other, you weren’t surprised to hear a few groans and moans from the boys.

kiaras laugh pierced the air, you and sarah looking over to her just to see her wiping her eyes to remove the tears in her eyes, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath as she continued laughing. you couldn’t help but look back over to the boys, who were still laying in the wet sand, groaning as the tide covered their bodies with salt water, and laugh. quiet frankly, nearly peeing yourself from how much you were laughing at the site. you and kiara laughing as pope and cleo ran over to the two and started helping them up.

“baby the fact you are laughing really doesn’t make me feel any better”, JJ collapses infront of you, laying his head on your lap and you catch your breath. looking down at the blue eyes staring up at you, “sorry jay, but you you two idiots should’ve known what was gonna happen”.

JJ flicks your thigh as a way of telling you off, still looking up at you, a massive smile on his face watching his girl laugh at something stupid he did. you looked like an angel to him, from where he was laying on your lap, you had the sun shining bright behind you, thus leaving a heavenly glow behind you.

“why are you staring at me, baby?” your voice grabs his attention again. “cause you’re so beautiful” you blush at his words, leaning down to give him a slight kiss.

“you guys make me sick,” kiara says watching the two of you, a sarcastic tone on her voice. you and JJ start to giggle looking back at each other.

your fingers run through your boyfriends hair, watching everyone talk and laugh with each other. your boyfriend laying on your lap sleeping, his chest rising and lowering as he takes a breath.

“i love you”, you looked down to your boyfriend, his eyes open slightly looking up at you. leaning down to kiss him again slightly,

“i love you too”

[julietsf1]

All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had. 

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1.     Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2.     Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

 “Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug. 

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.” 

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1.     Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2.     I was not as bad as he expected.

3.     I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

[livelaughlovesubs]

hellooo, i love your writing but im not used to sending asks so forgive me if anything is said poorly or if i do it wrong somehow, but i was curious if your up for writing obey me characters still?

if you are, could i request just ravaging asmo, like to the point where hes crying and not forming coherent sentences, and then just completely switching up after and giving super sweet aftercare? this is sort of inspired by the dazai aftercare post except i want the smut lmao

feel free to refuse or completely ignore this request if you dont feel up to it!

also could i be 🫶 anon? i looked through your anon list and im pretty sure that ones not taken!

remember to take care of yourself and take your time! i hope you're doing well! :)

-🫶

Hello hello~ don’t worry, you are doing great :] Also this will be my first time writing for obey me, bear with me alright? (I only got to chapter/ lesson 22 when I used to play it)

Dom!reader x sub!Asmodeus - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), hair pulling, marks, mind break, overstimulation, multiple rounds, a little exhibition?

Creaking sounds lingered around your ears, alongside the breathy moans of the male underneath you. These heavenly noises bounced off the walls, loud enough to seep through the cracks of the door. You were almost worried that other people would hear him, it would be pretty embarrassing at breakfast tomorrow. Though, asmo certainly wouldn’t mind, he’d even brag and show off his hickeys to everyone. How did you know? Because if he had any ounce of shame, he wouldn’t be screaming his lungs out like this. No one can tell you this little slut here doesn’t want his brothers to know he was getting used like a fleshlight.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment and slowing down, gathering some energy. What time was it, how long have you two been going at it? The stamina of a demon really was scary, to think he was still able to stay awake after was felt like an eternity. He was exhausted too, but he still wanted to keep going. “Haha..” you chuckled as you gazed at his messy face, smiling in amusement at the lewd display in front of you. Asmo was such a charming man, his hair had an indescribable colour that was unique to none other than him. Truly a marvellous gift from god himself. And now, it was sticking to his forehead, all wet due to the layer of sweat covering his skin.

His angelic face was fated to be his weapon for temptation, such a beauty was truly irresistible, befitting of his title as the avatar of lust. Those gorgeous golden eyes were shining like stars, lightening up each time you trusted deep inside him. You almost felt guilty, for defiling that innocent appearance of his. The saying of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ was like tailored for him, for this devil with the most saint-like appearance you’ve ever came across. Everything he did was erotic and inviting, causing you to want to ruin him more. Until any traces of that natural pureness he had were wiped away by lust.

“AaahhGg~..! Oh, y/n, right thereeee mhHmm!!” Asmodeus moaned out your name, his voice sweet and coated with honey. His back was facing you, and he arched his body into a crescent shape. Hips and ass high in the air, while his face was being pushed into the very pillow he was hugging. One of your hands were tangled in his rose-tainted hair, switching up from stroking his locks to yanking on them whenever you saw fit. Each time you’d rough him up, he’d whimper shamelessly, grinning from ear to ear as he shakes his butt for you.

He was so beautiful right now. So very stunning. That once cheeky face now all decorated with tears and drool, all blushy like a maiden fresh in love. His eyes rolled back sometimes, as well as him sticking his tongue out and trembling in pleasure. Despite the impaling realisation that he would pass out if this continued any longer, he didn’t yield, only begging you to give him more. Who were you to deny your darlings wishes? You wanted to give him everything he wanted, even if it will cause him back pain for the days to come.

The other hand was on his hips, helping him holding his body up to meet your trusts. Your pace was a steady one, but pretty slow. That’s because your body was sore as well from pounding him for hours. Asmo didn’t mind it, because you were still so good at it, even if you were tired. Every time you drove your length inside him, it hit his abused and used prostate with such accuracy that he can’t help but cry out in bliss. “AhhNnGg! Harder~ ooOOhhH!!” His hole was all red and swollen, it was so puffy, yet he was still able to clench around you. You could feel his insides squeezing your dick, not letting you pull it out of him.

“Such a dirty boy, how did you survive so long without me?” You teased, pulling on his hair suddenly, ending with him throwing his head back with a yelp. “AhH! i- heh, I guess I wasn’t re-really living mHmm~ before meeting you then.” The demon answered, still capable of smiling at you, even if the said smile looked like the dumb grin of a cheap prostitute. “My my, your choice of words are still as romantic as ever. Can you handle another round, asmo?” His dick twitched at your words, leaking some more precum onto the puddle of semen beneath him. “HnGg, of co-course..! Ahh~ y/n, fuck me <3”

A smirk spread on your lips, and you let go of his light brown hair. Instead, you used both hands to hold his waist tightly, enough for it to bruise. “Then I won’t hold myself back.” You said, as a kind of warning. Asmo looked over his shoulder and your eyes met, the desire in his pupils were evident on his body as well as in your eyes. Another giggle slipped from your lips before you moved backwards, then snapping your hips against his in a fast pace. “AhGGhhH! Mo-moRRe!!” While the devil groaned out a series of encouragements for you to continue rutting into him like some beast, he could feel another orgasm approaching. His stomach curled so intensely, and electricity was coursing through his body.

The expression on his face was so dumb, so fucked out of it that he looked like he lost his mind. As if he succumbed to pleasure, him, the very fundament of lust. “Ah.. damn it, you are such a pretty boy asmo.. heh.” You complimented him among all these ruthless thrusts, it was a gentleness he didn’t know he needed to spill over the edge. “NgHHh! Uh-uhMm, I’m cu-cummINNgG <3!!” More tears rolled down his messy cheeks as his orgasm washed over him, this time he didn’t look as sane as before. No, he looked like he was drunk on the ecstasy and pleasure. It was so good, so so so good he couldn’t fathom it! It crashed down on him and his poor, slim body in waves, it was more than what he could handle!

Hearts were sparkling in his pupils, and his hands clutched the pillow so hard that it ripped. He even accidentally switched to his demon form, so his horns, wings and tail popped out. At this point he couldn’t think nor speak properly anymore, only repeating the same phrases like a broken radio. Whines and gasps of pleasure continued to fill the room of the boy, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth like some dog in heat. Ropes of cum spurt out of his dick, dirtying the sheets below him. His thighs quivered, some of his slick also ran down his inner thighs. After helping him ride out his high, you slowly and gently pulled the cock out of him. Then, you also released his hips.

Two imprints of your hands were left behind, and you couldn’t hide a sadistic smirk. To your surprise asmo whispered to you in a meek voice, “keep.. mhm, holding me..” He was just a twitchy something now, limping on his bed while his brain was still processing all the sensations. It was simply too much, he was going to take a while until he’ll be responsive again. Even so he still craved your touch, he did have an adorable side to him didn’t he?

“I’ll, if that’s what you want.” You replied and grabbed his tiny waist again, this time you leaned down and pressed your body against his. After waiting and taking a break for a new minutes, you kissed his neck softly, before mumbling quietly, “wanna go wash up now, love?” Not once have you left his side while waiting patiently, giving him some time to reorganise. “Hmmm… can’t we stay like t-this a tad longer?” Asmo pouted and sighed, already feeling sore and the aftermath of the long session. God, he was still stumbling over his words! Just how hard did you fuck him? He will definitely walk funnily tomorrow, if he can even stand on his own two legs. “We can still cuddle after taking a shower. Come on, you go first while I clean up.” You suggested, knowing that he was totally out of energy.

“Nuuu! I want to stay like this! Pleaseeee? Pretty please??” He blinked at you, looking at you with puppy eyes, knowing that this trick always works on you. “Ugh! Fine, fine, if that’s what my princess here wants.” You sighed, acting annoyed at him doing as he pleased. “Hehe~” the devil laughed satisfied, resting his chin on the pillow as he enjoyed your touch. Next thing he knew you kissed his cheeks, while tugging his still chaotic hair behind his ear. While you did those things, you said with a little smile, “You did well asmo, I’m so proud of you.”

Huh. Where did that come from? Out of nowhere his face heated up again, and that right after you thought he had calmed down. “Aww, you are so cute y/n!” He responded immediately, though a hint of nervousness was laced and hidden behind his voice. Was the avatar of lust perhaps flustered or embarrassed about your words? Pff. You laughed in his face, before giving his forehead a peck. “Ahh~ I love you, my prince.”

[angels-fantasy]

Congratulations on your followers milestone! Can I ask for the prompt "first fight" with Dabi?

Scars and All

Dabi/Touya x Reader

Details/Warnings: lowkey toxic relationship, arguing, kinda angsty LMAO i'm sorry i cant help but make dabi angsty. hurt/comfort i think, angst to fluff? dabi is trying, okay? also dabi is called touya in this fic!

Word Count: 957

hello thank you sm for your ask and the congratulations :) i hope you like this, i really like dabi bc 1) hes hot lol and 2) hes such a well written character. also i'm going to start writing in all lowercase bc its what im used to and upper case drives me crazy!!

loneliness was something that consumed you constantly. it was a scary feeling sometimes, especially because of the things it could drive someone to do.

you wished you didn't feel like this, but you couldn't help it.

before getting into a relationship with touya, you knew of the lifestyle he lived and how much of his time it took up. at first you thought you could handle it, but over time you soon realized that wasn't true. hours of him being gone quickly turned into days, sometimes even weeks and it was driving you crazy. you really wanted to try and continue to sit compliantly and let him do what he wished to do, but you were at your wits end.

sometimes you wondered why you even continued to put up with him, especially when you knew deep down that he'd probably choose to continue committing villainous acts over your relationship.

but you knew the answer to that-it was because you loved him, and sometimes love can make you do crazy things.

so now here you were; sitting on the old couch in your living room. the edges of the fabric having frayed ends and burn marks here and there from the moments touya let his temper get the best of him.

you can't remember how long you've been sitting there anxiously, waiting for your boyfriend to get home, but you felt your heart beat faster when you heard the front door being unlocked.

you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself to confront touya, who sighed as he walked through the door and his heavy boots thudding along with each step.

he walked over to you and threw himself down on the couch, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. moments like this made it hard to stay mad.

he placed a kiss on your temple, "hey. you miss me?"

you fiddled with your fingers as you leaned further into his chest, "of course i did. i'm glad you're home."

he tilted his head down to look at you, "then how come you don't sound happy, huh?" he asked, squeezing your shoulder as he did so.

you frowned, knowing he'd caught onto your bad mood already. he was way too perceptive sometimes.

"i am happy touya, i promise." you insisted, "it's just..."

"it's just what?"

you sat up from your position and faced him, but it was hard to look him in the eyes. "i just wanted to talk to you about something that's been bothering me."

he looked at you for a moment, expressionless, making you even more nervous until he said, "alright, what is it?"

you took a deep breath.

"you're never home touya, and i miss you." you frowned, "i worry about you and when you're gone for so long i get lonely. i miss spending time with you."

he groaned, "babe, do you not understand why i'm gone? or do i need to tell you, is that it?" he asked.

you regretted this now.

"no, i know why but it's just-"

"if you know why, then why do you fucking ask me?!" he yelled, making you shrink into yourself. you two had bickered over things before and there were even times when you needed space from each other, but touya had never yelled at you like this.

you could feel your eyes prick with tears and the lump in your throat grow, "touya don't yell at me!" you cried.

"i'm yelling at you so you get this through your god damn head!" he snapped, "i can't be here, sitting on my ass like you every fucking day. i have shit i need to do to make my plans happen!"

you gasped at his words. did he really think that's all you did?

"you know damn well i don't just stay at home on my ass, touya! i work too!" you said, tapping his chest with your finger as you pointed it at him.

"i buy the groceries! i make the food! i wash your blood stained clothes! i do everything i can, but you don't know because you're never here!" you yelled, taking a deep breath after so you could continue speaking.

you sighed heavily and spoke softly, your energy gone from yelling. "you're never here touya..." you sniffed, letting the tears run down your cheeks. you brought your hands up to your eyes to wipe them away, "i love you, so i miss you. i just wish you were home more so i don't have to spend my nights all alone."

touya was breathing heavily, but sitting silently as he processed your words. he was perceptive, sure, but he wasn't really good with emotions and dealing with people when they were upset.

feeling guilty, he wrapped his arms around your crying figure and hugged you tightly to his chest. he brought a hand up to your head and stroked it gently, shushing your cries. you stayed like that until your crying had become sniffles with occasional hiccups.

"i'm sorry," he said softly, "i'm sorry i'm always gone. i fucking suck at this, i don't know how to be here for you... but i'm going to do better now, for you, okay? i love you too. i don't say that enough."

you brought your hands away from your face and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his beating heart and closing your eyes.

"as long as you try, touya. i know you're not perfect, and that's okay with me. i love you the way you are."

"scars and all?" he asked jokingly, making you giggle.

"scars and all."

authors note

love ya!

[redr0sewrites]

I’m obsessed with your hazbin stuff rn it’s incredible

idk how much you could write for this but you write a bit about sub vox after you finish fucking him. so basically just vox aftercare. I don’t think he’d be super into non-sexual touch but I think while in subspace/while coming out of it he would be super clingy and touchy.

I’ve been thinking about taking care of a fucked out vox for a while and I’m obsessed with the image.

thank you in advance and have a nice day <33

YESSSSS!!!! im a huge sucker for aftercare ♥️

🥀Cw: fluff, aftercare, mentions of smut but nothing explicit, bathing

listen, no matter what type of sex yall are having, whether its rough and fast or slow and soft, vox always ends up exhausted

after subbing vox is always clingier than usual, but he's also a lot more emotional than usual

wipe off his tears, wait for him to calm down and just let him cling to you before even starting the aftercare process

vox just needs to be held for a few minutes as he slowly begins to become slightly coherent

i don't see him as the type to want to talk much after sex, he'll mumble a little request or an "i love you" here and there but thats about it

vox pretty much melts into your touch, and he wants you to take care of him

he very rarely feels taken care of, and hes so stressed out most of the time that it just feels very foreign to him

when it comes to actually cleaning up after sex, vox is normally still too deep into subspace to do much

hes always overstimulated, and will def glitch out when you wipe off his thighs and clean him up

vox loves the intimacy of just laying back while you wash the slick off his thighs with a warm towel, pressing soft kisses to his screen and praising him as he comes out of subspace

he needs your praise and reassurance, especially when you were rough or mean to him

he'll try to be nonchalant and ask you if you really meant all the degrading things you said, but you can tell that vox's genuinely insecure about what you think of him

praise him and tell him you're so proud of him, tell him how he took you so well and how he's your good bot

vox is too incoherent and embarassed to reply but he clings a little closer to you and his screen flushes to a warmer pink

a lot of the time vox's claws will rip up the sheets and blankets, he feels bad about it but he can't control it in the moment so he'll try to help you out with setting the bed even though his legs are shaking and he's still barely coherent

PLEASE just shush him and tell him you can handle it, then run him a warm bath

considering vox is rich af ur bathtub is def big enough for the both of you, and he enjoys just laying with you in the warm water

he likes to admire all the marks you give him in the mirror, he adores seeing the hickeys and scratches on his skin

like i said he's not much of a talker after sex but he doesn't mind listening

he'll play with your fingers or trail his hand up and down your arm as you talk to him about your day

when you're both all cleaned up and relaxed, i think he'd (secretly) like it if you dressed him

theres something so intimate about you buttoning up his night shirt, giggling and pressing kisses to his screen as he pouts at you

vox pulls you on top of him when you guys are cuddling so that he can wrap his arms around you!

by this point he's def more coherent and out of subspace so he's not as clingy, but still wants your touch (if that makes sense lmao)

like he's too prideful to cling to you or ask you to hold him but really wants to be held

he'll pout when you spoon him but the fact that he practically melts into your touch betrays his true feelings

vox sleeps like the dead after being fucked and mornings after sex are the few mornings he actually sleeps in

overall, post sex vox is a side thats much softer than usual, and truly shows how much he loves and trusts you

pushing through these long ass work days yall- tmrws my last day so i'll be posting more next week!!!!!!! i need to write more fluffy stuff w vox its come to my attention that i literally only write nsfw for him 😭

[luna0713hunter]

Hellooo~

I just found your blog rn and I immediately fell in love with your works(especially sukuna ffs).

I love the way you write sukuna and reader's relationship.

And if ur ok with it, may I request a sukuna x reader angst? Maybe where reader is a sorcerer and she got badly injured and got into a almost death situation during a fight and sukuna is smh guilty for it??

You can ignore this if u want to<3

-🍪

Author's note : Hi hi ( ꈍᴗꈍ)oh my gosh im so happy to hear that!!!thank you so much darling!it makes me super happy

Mhm,i love the smell of fresh angst with happy ending in the midnight lmao. I'll gladly write it!! Hope you enjoy this,Cookie-chan!

Warnings : Sukuna Sorcerer au!,angst,injury and blood,happy ending!

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

You knew this would happen,and you were happy to rub it in your idiot boyfriend's face with a big "i told you so."

That is,if you make it out alive.

The curse before you lets out a loud noise, something akin to cackle,as it watches you with it's multiple eyes. You glare,but even you know it's lost all heat;with blood oozing out of each part of your body,you can barely even keep your eyes open. Your body feels weak,and all of your joints hurt like hell. Your eyes drift to where you broken phone is laying and you just hope that your help signal has gone through before it was damage for good.

"ah," you mumble as you spit a mouthful of blood on the ground below; watching as it drips down on your hands, "today sucks. Its all Ryo's fault."

Your hazy eyes turn up and you watch as the curse dances around;each one of it's disgusting eye spinning around wildly as it looks at you with glee.

The son of a bitch is having fun killing you.

"you're lucky, y'know," you giggle slightly from how slurred your words sound; the blood lose making you lightheaded, "If Ryo was here,he would've torn you to pieces. But, he's an idiot."

Because he really was; starting that morning with the message from the higher ups about your new mission, you had told Sukuna that it would end badly. You had told him more than twice that something smelled fishy;that the higher ups were out to get you. But Sukuna,had dismissed your worry,and with a small scoff had said you're paranoid. At least,now with you dead,he would be proven wrong.

You grin maniacally at the thought;serves him right.

Leaning your back against the tree,you watch with bleary eyes as the curse steps closer;you dont even care. You're too tired to fight back. So you just sit there, thinking about all the things you'll miss;your friends and family,that one bakery with those delicious coconut buns,your boyfriend Sukuna,and most of all-

"i never got the chance to hear him say i love you..."

Maybe out of everything, you'll regret not dating your boyfriend sooner.

You're so lost in your thoughts,that you dont notice the sound of the curse has been faded away. And when you hear a small shriek,and hurried footsteps running your way,you just close your eyes and drop your head. You're fully expecting the curse to rip out your heart,when gentle,but frantic hands,take hold of your bloody cheeks and raise your head slightly. With a pained groan,you open your eyes just enough to see a heap of pink,and a familiar pair of red eyes.

"Ryo...?"

"yeah,yeah babe. Its me," his voice is steady,like always,but you can hear a small undertone of worry and it brings a smile to your lips.

"told ya..."

The hands on your cheeks rub at the corner of your lips to wipe away the blood.

"yeah,i know. And I'm an ass for not believing you." You feel yourself shift,and with foggy mind, realize he has lifted you up in his arms, "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

You giggle and rub your head against his chest;his scent already soothing your mind.

"can i have those sweet buns then?with hot chocolate?"

"whatever you want. First, let's get you fixed up yeah?"

You mumble your agreement and close your eyes. And when you wake up the next time,its to a tray full of your favorite sweet buns and a warm mug of hot chocolate.

Your boyfriend embraces you tightly,and kisses your forehead.

"i love you."

And maybe getting almost killed,was worth it after all.

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

P.S : I love coconut buns and im currently craving some so i had to add them lmao.

[foundedroses]

˚₊‧꒰ა ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ “ Моя дорогая ”

Pairing: Fyodor x !f reader

Plot: when an early morning with your beloved boyfriend, fyodor turns into something more intimate, you can’t help but endure what else he has to offer…

Cw: sub f! reader, oral sex, lil bondage, use of cum, use of pet names (in both english and russian), possible grammar errors because im a lazy bastard who cant be bothered to edit this, part 2 of one of my previous fics of fyodor, restraints, and other shit. 

Wc: 1.2k

A/n: okay, so somebody requested a part two to my fic of fyodor, so here it is! And guess what, for once i didnt struggle to write this and wrote it thru one whole session of writing! Thank gosh for malice mizer keeping me motivated thru this lmao. FORGIVE ME IF THE RUSSIAN IS WRONG! Google translate sucks ass. Shh im not russian myself so dont burn me alive if i got some words wrong. @touyas-slut, didn't know if you wanted to be tagged but there you go :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆

Моя дорогая. That was the last thing that had left the man’s mouth. Fyodor’s mouth. Spending time with your hard working boyfriend was all you craved, that’s all you could’ve possibly wanted; but maybe you wished a little too hard, because there you were, pinned to you and your boyfriend’s shared bed with your wrists restrained, restrained with black silk fabric that you wondered where it came from, and with Fyodor in between your thighs.

Gasps and whimpers slipped out past your lips and you writhed your body in pleasure, the soft silk tugging at your wrists that made you squirm even more. “Hah~...F-Fedya?” You whined softly, attempting to speak fully yet nothing but soft moans tumbled past your pouted lips. 

“моя любовь?” The black haired man raised his head, his lips coated in a sheen coating of your slick and cum from your previous orgasms. His dark violet eyes reflected a sense of lust, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Is this becoming too much for you, my love?” 

Oh that rich Russian accent of his, it drove you wild, the way each syllable of each word rolled off of his tongue in the smoothest way possible sent you into a somewhat frenzy. Your eyebrows knitted together and you shook your head, almost frantically. “N-No~” Your heart began to race, the desperation that was circling your body taking over your core. “Keep…going~” 

Your words of affirmation was all that Fyodor had to hear for him to dive back between your shaking thighs, his tongue darting out past his lips as he slowly licked strips up your already moisten pussy, his wet appendage against your most sensitive area left your thighs trembling and your cunt clenching around nothing.

You mustered a strained groan and bucked your hips forwards into him. That damned silk that bounded your wrists, if only you weren’t restrained. “F-Fuck, fuck!~” Profanities were all that managed to leave your mouth, curses, words that meant nothing in the moment but would in the aftermath. 

“Oh, Моя дорогая?” Fyodor mumbled from in between your thighs as he gave a small kitten lick to your puffy clit, earning a struggling moan from you. “You know that I dislike hearing you say such Profanities~” His tongue again made contact with your clit as he gently flicked his tongue across it, feeling your muscles tense beneath his grasp. “I-I’m sor- fuck, fuck!~” You stretched your muscles and leaned your head back against the soft, white pillow beneath you, struggling to contain the words that spilled from your lip. 

After those vulgar phrases escaped your mouth, Fyodor lifted his head once again. His dark eyes locked onto yours with an intense, almost unnerving gaze that seemed to pierce straight through you. The chill that ran down your spine was inescapable, as his stare held you captive, reflecting a mixture of disbelief and something far more unsettling. “Oh, мой ангел~” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the man crept up closer to you, his hands now on either side of your body, his eyes glaring down into yours. “Those words really don’t sound pleasing coming from a lady~ do you wish that I punish you for that behaviour, my dear?” 

You could’ve sworn that you could hear your own heartbeat echoing through your ear drums, your breath hitching each time the man crept closer to you. “I-I’m sorry, Fedya…” You apologised in a soft voice, your tone still trembling and still slightly breathy. 

Fyodor clicked his tongue and slowly backed away, his eyes looking down at your naked form, eyes tracing the curves of your figure, his pupils dilating with lust and something similar to anticipation. Without another word leaving his lips, the raven haired man grabbed both your thighs with his hands, blunt nails digging into your skin as he threw your legs over his shoulders. “Ни слова больше, любовь моя~” 

You didn’t know what your boyfriend had just said, his native tongue being nothing but muddled words to you, but even if what he said was in english, it meant nothing at the moment because before you could cough up a reply, Fyodor had his head already buried in between your thighs. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open, a broken string of moans seeping past your lips as you thrashed your body against the mattress. “F-Fedya, fuck!~” 

Your crude words and phrases went over Fyodor’s head unlike the last couple of times, he mouth at your exposed cunt, tongue suckling and licking every inch of your core as if he had been starved for days on end, truly intoxicated by your taste, scent, everything that you had to offer him. “Моя дорогая~...” He moaned into you, tongue lapping at your slick folds, switching from circling his tongue at your clit to tongue-fucking you. 

Your back arched slightly off of the bed and you jerked your hips upwards, tears pricked the corneas of your eyes and your face felt like it was on fire with the heavy blush that flaunted your s/c complexion. The constant, repetitive heat that pooled between your thighs was becoming almost unbearable, goosebumps trailing your skin each time your partner’s tongue connected with your cunt. “My dear~...” Fyodor groaned against you, his tongue flattering against your folds as he savoured your sweet taste, the tip of his tongue swirled across your slit. 

Cold sweat trickled down the back of your neck and your body shuddered against the bed sheets, you sucked in a sharp, shaky breath as your body convulsed within the man’s grasp. That aching feeling that once lingered between your thighs finally lifted, that relief you were chasing for at last came crumbling over you like a tidal wave. Your jaw fell slack and you drew your eyebrows together, uncontrolled, deep groans spilled past your mouth as your pussy spasmed against the man’s tongue. “F-Fedya, fu..fucking hell!~” 

A low growl emitted from Fyodor’s lips, his hands clawing at your hips as you came, the almost alluring relish of your juices upon his tongue pushed him to the brink of madness. 

The Russian slowly raised his head from down between your legs, his eyes locking to yours, those violet eyes. They radiated with something that seemed so animalistic that it only tempted you further. “My love?~”  You were still huffing and panting when you nodded your head at your boyfriend’s attempt to grab your attention. “Fedya?” 

A soft moan fell past your lips when Fyodor grabbed a hold of your bounded wrists and neared his face closer to yours, his tongue lightly tracing the curve of your ear, his voice low but soft as he whispered. “Я хочу заниматься этим всю ночь, мой милый.~” 

“Huh?” You breathed out, you didn’t understand a single word the man had uttered to you. Fyodor noticed your confusion and he chuckled amusingly, he gently stroked the back of his finger against your cheek, the heat that glazed your skin radiated off of his. His lips curved upwards into a devilish smirk and he rephrased his words. “I said…I wish to do this all night, my darling~” Your eyes widened dramatically, and you let out a soft, breathless gasp, you knew how you were spending the rest of the day, and hell, you were prepared. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

[noisyquokka]

I know this is a very vague request and im really sorry in advance 😭… do you think you could write some headcanons/reactions for wayv? I noticed that most nct content is for dream, sometimes 127, and rarely my wayv boys and i LOVE them 😮‍💨, i dont really have a concept in mind i would prefer if it was made with a female reader in mind but gender neutral works just as well, and idk maybe a little bit suggestive if youre in the mood for it?? Idk anyways thanks for listening and im sorry im not giving you much to work with :)

+ OMG OK I JUST SENT IN A VAGUE REQUEST FOR WAYV BUT I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING NOW, idk if you’ll see this but do you think you could do wayvs reaction to a female reader whos more dominant, not necessarily in the bedroom sense (although that too) but just someone who looks more feminine but automatically takes on more masculine gender roles in a relationship like being big spoon, or bringing home the bag, or being the one to take care of things and fix things? Again i don’t necessarily mean in a sexual way just more in a general relationship because i know you said you werent confident/comfortable writing nsfw stuff, but if you wanted to take a more suggestive route too i wouldnt be mad, youre the writer here, im just here to support 💗, thank you again!

A/N - Not me having a whole-ass brain fart on gender roles as I wrote this🤪but ohhhohoo I love this idea!!! I'm sorry it took forever :( also some of these are longer than others, I apologize. But I still hope you enjoy 💛 Thank you for the request, Love!

WORDCOUNT - 1,165

WARNINGS - F!reader, suggestive if you squint from the other side of the galaxy??

Kun

you had told him that you were quite independent from the beginning of your relationship

perhaps you hadn't been persuasive enough, or it didn't register in Kun's head...

because when he comes home from tour, he doesn't expect to find you in the kitchen, cursing under your breath with your head ducked beneath the sink

it appears you're too busy groveling at the plumbing to notice his presence, the clanking of metal on metal hitting his ears

"What... are you doing?" is followed by a thud! and another hushed curse as you emerge from the cabinet, rubbing at the crown of your head with a grimace

you're met with warm hands and a concerned gaze as you straighten up, adjustable wrench in your grip

"The shut-off valve for the cold water failed," you wipe the sweat from your brow, eyeing the small space you have to work with under the sink, "so I went and picked up replacements for both."

and Kun's just standing there like 'woah, babe, go off'

but also a little worried

cue the "shouldn't we call a plumber", and the "are you sure's"

it's not that he believes you're incapable, far from it!

he's just got no clue about the tricks of that trade lmao

asks if you need help

will literally sit by and watch like a curious Retriever whether you need extra hands or not (without being in the way, of course)

he has no idea where your confidence comes from when it comes to these types of things, but it's kinda... 😏

you finish the job in two hours, checking for any leaks after you turn the water back on and let the water flow through the pipes to clear the air in the lines

after this, he quickly adapts to you taking lead around the house with similar things

he's so used to being the leader/taking lead on so many things that it's so refreshing for him.

you're just the type to say "Hey, I've got it!" with no expectations

he's gonna find his ways of thanking you for the things you do btw

cooking you dinner, cleaning the entire house, buying you something you've been eyeing for forever.

also lives and breaths you cuddling him

back hugs, waking up to you pulling him back into your arms before you're both falling asleep again

this man is so content being little spoon if it means you're right there

Ten

totally into it!

I'd bet that this man goes full doting boyfriend

probably the most curious out of all the guys

would be super invested if you were an HVAC technician or something just because of how physically demanding the job is

asks you if he could tag along to work one day like an excited child

to which you tell him that it's not as exciting for him to watch considering most of the job is you crawling into tight spaces

like you'd literally be in some dusty attic, sweltering as you work

it happens anyways, because you find that your HVAC unit is outdated, so naturally, you choose to update it yourself

cue a sneaky head peeking around the corner every chance he gets because, contrary to what you had said, Ten is very entertained

the man has the biggest heart eyes for you through the entire process - which is roughly 6 hours

"your attention to detail is beyond admirable!"

"I'd say it's necessary when I'm working with electrical, Babe."

wants to learn how to do whatever it is you're working on

doesn't matter what it is you're doing

soaks up whatever you teach him

mans is a whole sponge istg

at the same time he's absolutely gonna tell you to keep being the boss-ass bitch that you are

WinWin

supportive but a lil insecure :(

like he loves you loads, supports you 100% in all that you do

but sometimes it'll make him feel like he's not doing enough in terms of your relationship

I don't see the insecurity coming from your confidence of taking on a more masculine role, but more out of worrying that his time is so limited with you and around the house so when he is home, he feels like it's not enough

feels like he shouldn't tell you at first

like it sounds a little like an excuse to be an ass

but eventually thinks it's the best thing for your relationship

y'all take communication so seriously so why start holding back over something like this

you're quick to reassure him that he does more than enough

like sir, sit down and kick your feet up, you literally do so much for me, I will write you a whole list rn

it works to a certain extent, so you offer him some options "to make up for it" cough I'll leave this up to interpretation💀

fair to say that all is better with a little communication

Xiaojun

I say this solely for his safety and benefit

do not, under any circumstances, let this man know you can do some of the things that you're capable of!!

boy is too petty and competitive to have this knowledge

I feel like he'd be the type to see you so confidently take care of yard work and the next week turns into a competition of who can complete said tasks better

he wouldn't do it to make you feel less than, or to put you in your place (as if you wouldn't set his ass straight)

he's just a little dramatic

a lil competitive

he loses almost every time 😔

either makes excuses for it ("I didn't know there were levels to the lawn mower", "the handle on my rake was broken") or stays quiet

will be whiny for a few days afterwards

you have no issue giving him something to whine about-

Hendery

full cheerleader mode!!

he literally grew up with three sisters, ain't no way he's gonna be against a strong and independent woman doing her thing

is the best assistant when you need an extra set of hands

literally the kid that holds dad's flashlight while dad fixes the car except you don't have to remind him to hold it steady

he's on top of it, baby 😎

mans takes this as seriously as performing open-heart surgery

I'm talking brows set in concentration and hands as steady as my granny threading a needle (that woman was so talented)

tools are in your hand before you've even finished telling him what you need

bro is just that good

loves helping you to the point that when you don't need his help, he's just a pouty boy in the corner

like Kun and Ten, he'll just watch and cheer you on in those instances

he is the ultimate ally

YangYang

I could see him drawn toward a woman who takes initiative in a relationship

probably finds it attractive as hell

at the same time, I could see him not caring much about traditional gender roles

sees it as a social construct that is meant to be broken

he digs how dynamic you can be in any situation, definitely!

that said, he is the reason you fix so many things 🧍🏻‍♀️

listen, him being your boyfriend does not guarantee your safety from The Menace™

feels bad about it sometimes

but like... you never complain

YangYang swears he's a magnet for finding patient people that can tolerate his antics

which is exactly why he's wrapped around your finger

MASTERLIST

[thdrama2]

Why are TH users so incredibly entitled?? I had someone DM me and insisted on me removing any mention of my OC being in an abusive polyamorous relationship cause its "bad representation". Im not willing to remove ANYTHING about my OCs, especially if someone calls them representation lmao

Ask them if they would like to come to your house and wipe your ass for you too.

[underworld-park-offical]

TWEEK: Okay

TWEEK: You

TWEEK: Mister

TWEEK: Tinfoil

TWEEK: Hat

TWEEK: Guy

KENNY: Stan

TWEEK:  What

KENNY: His names Stan

TWEEK: Okay

TWEEK: Cool

TWEEK: I'm not gonna remember that

TWEEK: You said you had

TWEEK: Like

TWEEK: A bunker

TWEEK: Right?

STAN: Yeah

CRAIG: Dog shit covered ahhh barn 💀

TWEEK: Why is he saying Skull emoji out loud

TOLKIEN: Not even WE know at this point

KYLE: We gotta get him to stop that

KYLE: It's more annoying than KYLE: ….Whatever….. Stan's got going on

CRAIG: Omg not you slandering me 💀

CRAIG: Don't even rn you look like the Goodwill shat you out

KYLE: Fuck you

KYLE: You know that Supreme hoodie isn't even real Supreme, right?

CRAIG: Lmao what

CRAIG: Me when I lie

KYLE: Nonononono

KYLE: Look look look

KYLE: It says “Souprem”

KYLE: It's fake merch dude

KYLE: Its as fake as those fucking yeezys

CRAIG: ….

KYLE: …Dude?

CRAIG: No that's my other hoodie

KYLE: Are you fucking serious

KYLE: You aren't even rich stop acting like you are

CRAIG: Nuh uh

KYLE: FUCK YOU MEAN NUH UH????

TOLKIEN: Kyle, just give it up

TOLKIEN: Trying to convince Craig he isn't rich is like trying to convince a toddler to wipe their own ass

TOLKIEN: It's not worth it

CLYDE: …. CLYDE: Why do I feel like that was directed towards me?

TOLKIEN: Because It was, Clyde

CLYDE: OH COME ON I WASH MY OWN ASS

TOLKIEN: NO THE FUCK YOU DO NOT YOU SMELL LIKE A TACO BELL CLYDE: FUCK YOU CLYDE: AT LEAST TWEEK LIKES ME TOLKIEN: OH SURE SURE SURE TOLKIEN: TWEEK DOESN'T ACTUALLY LIKE YOU TOLKIEN: THERE'S NO WAY SOMEONE LIKE TWEEK WOULD BE STUPID ENOUGH TO GO AFTER YOU, YOU FUCKING TESTOSTERONE FUELED SHITSTAN

CLYDE: THANK YOU FOR ACKNOWLEDGING I'M TRANS BUT FUCK YOU FOR INSULTING ME

TOLKIEN: YOU’RE VERY WELCOME, FUCK YOU TOO

CLYDE: YOU KNOW WHAT?? I BET YOU 30 BUCKS I CAN PULL IN TWEEK WITH MY MANLY AWESOMENESS

TOLKIEN: I BET YOU A MILLION DOLLARS YOU CAN'T

CLYDE: FINE

TOLKIEN: FINE

CLYDE: LETS FUCKING GO

CLYDE: I'LL ASK OUT TWEEK AND IT'LL BE THE MOST ROMANTIC THING EVER

STAN: Hmmm

STAN: At my barn we could like

STAN: Use my dad and my sister

STAN: As like

STAN: Food

KYLE: Dude no

KYLE: I am not resorting to cannibalism

CARTMAN: Kahl, you’ve eaten animals, that's basically like eating people

KYLE: Okay mr “forty big macs in one day”

CARTMAN: Uhm, actually they're vegan chicken patties KYLE

CARTMAN: ALSO did you just ASSUME my GENDER????

CARTMAN: YOU ARE GETTING C A N C E L L E D

CARTMAN: I WANT A TEAR RIDDEN UKELELE FILLED APOLOGY RIGHT NOW

KYLE: Oh my GODDDDD

KENNY: Actually studies show that most human meat is similar taste wise to chicken

CRAIG: I thought it was pork

CRAIG: Like

CRAIG: Deadass

CRAIG: Like pigs

CRAIG: Like deadass pigs

KENNY: We know what pork is CRAIG 

STAN: Yeah

STAN: So we’re fucking set

CARTMAN: Uhhh no thanks, i’d rather be one with the animals and eat dirt and hay

STAN: We don't even have animals

CARTMAN: I’ll just eat the weed then

STAN: What

KENNY: What

KYLE: What

CRAIG: LMAOOOOOOO IM DEADDDDDDD 💀 💀 💀 

CARTMAN: What???

CARTMAN: It's like eating catnip

CARTMAN: Besides its environmentally friendly

STAN: What's your source

CARTMAN: Wikipedia

STAN: Ooooof course it is

STAN: The internets lying to you, you know

CARTMAN: Fuck off, Stan, Queermo

STAN: IM TELLING THE TRUTH HERE

TWEEK: HhhhuGiyhvfdeiohjd

TWEEK: OKay

TWEEK: Cool

TWEEK: We’re set on a TOTALLY ANONYMOUS LOCATION

TWEEK: Awesome

TWEEK: Great

TWEEK: Dandy even!

TWEEK: Everyone

TWEEK: Lets hold hands

CRAIG: I am not touching Clydes fucking shitstained hands

TWEEK: Fine

TWEEK: I’ll hold Clyde's hand

TOLKIEN: Why do you wanna touch Clydes hands thats fucking nasty

CRAIG: For real

CRAIG: Preach 🙏🙏🙏

TWEEK: I don't care

TWEEK: It's just for a bit TWEEK: I can wash my own hands afterwards

CRAIG: EWWWW FAGS

CLYDE: Aww… really?? :D

TWEEK: Fine

TWEEK: Sure

TWEEK: Whatever

CLYDE: Nobody other than Tolkien has wanted to hold my hand before! :DD

TOLKIEN: Was that before or after I figured out you don't wash your hands

TWEEK: Who else is fine with

TWEEK: Touching Clyde

CRAIG: Stop making me have gay thoughts, Playboi Carti

TWEEK: What

TWEEK: I don't

TWEEK: I'm not

TWEEK: Just

TWEEK: Hold hands

TWEEK: You all have socks on

TWEEK: I think

TWEEK: So it's not gay

CARTMAN: Uhm erm erm erm

CARTMAN: Actually

CARTMAN: That's a homophobic statement

TWEEK: CRAIG SAID A FUCKING SLUR?????????

TWEEK: WHAT???????

TWEEK: IM TWEEK: HUH TWEEK: WHAT TWEEK: OKAY

TWEEK: JUST TWEEK: JUST HOLD HANDS TWEEK: STOP MAKING THIS HARDER FOR ME

CLYDE: Wow

CLYDE: I forgot CLYDE: What holding hands felt like

KYLE: Woah

KYLE: This reminds me of the first episode of My Little Pony

KYLE: Where

KYLE: Twilight and her friends

KYLE: Find the friendship trinkets or whatever

KYLE: And they reverse the curse on them that turns them into stone

KYLE: And they used them to like

KYLE: Defeat Nightmare Moon

KYLE: Turning her back into Princess Luna

KENNY: That was so fucking gay

KENNY: I feel like I'm gonna vomit rainbows because of you

CARTMAN: Kenny stop being homophobic

CARTMAN: I will cancel you again

KENNY: Fuck off I know that blue hair you wear online is a wig

CARTMAN: BITCH-

TWEEK: SHUT UP

TWEEK: ALL OF YOU TWEEK: MY SATAN

TWEEK: CAN YOU ALL GO LIKE TWEEK: TWO MINUTES WITHOUT FIGHTING AND OR DEGRADING EACH OTHER

KENNY: ….

CARTMAN: …. KYLE: …..

LITERALLY EVERYONE: …..

CRAIG: Slllaaa-

TOLKIEN: Dont

TOLKIEN: Just

TOLKIEN: Do not

TOLKIEN: Actually, you’ve lost speaking privileges

CRAIG: 😡

TWEEK: Alright

TWEEK: Is

TWEEK: Is everyone holding hands

CRAIG: yeah its like Kumbaya frfr

TOLKIEN: Stop talking

TWEEK: Okay

TWEEK: Alakazam

TWEEK: Alakazane

TWEEK: Im sending you off this mortal plane

KYLE: Wait wha-

CRAIG: Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe!

KENNY: Yoooo

CRAIG: Like and Share! Like and Share! Like and Share!

TOLKIEN: Haaaaa

TOLKIEN: What

TOLKIEN: Was that

TWEEK: Magic Trick

TOLKIEN: What

TWEEK: Hey you have a lot of free time when you live in a dumpster

CRAIG: Copy link! Copy link! Copy link! Copy link! Copy link! Copy link!

TOLKIEN: Whatever, please for the sake of our brain cells, never do that again

KENNY: I dunno

KENNY: I thought that was pretty cool

CRAIG: Kombucha? I LLLOOOVVVEEE KOMBUCHA! Kombucha? I LOVE KOMBUCHA Kombucha? I LOVE KOMBUCHA Kombucha? I LOVE KOMBUCHA

TWEEK: Alright

TWEEK: Humans

TWEEK: Freaks

TWEEK: Whatever your names are

TWEEK: Get in the fucking barn

TWEEK: Now, quoting the safety psas from Estella,

TWEEK: Don't open the door for strangers, Don’t investigate any random noises, don't take any offers from strange men in white vans, don't help anyone, if anyone says they're friends of your parents do not trust them

TWEEK: And for goodness sake,

TWEEK: USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM

CRAIG: I'm addicted to Takis! I'm addicted to Takis! I'm addicted to Takis! I'm addicted to Takis!

STAN: One, what are we, five?

STAN: Second

STAN: It's a backup bunker, not  a barn

TWEEK: WHATEVER! JUST- GET IN

TWEEK: DO YOU WANNA LIVE OR NOT????

STAN: No

TWEEK: …

STAN: …

TWEEK: ….

STAN: ….

TWEEK: ….

TWEEK: O….

TWEEK: Kay…..

TWEEK: Just…..

TWEEK: Get in the barn

STAN: Fineeeee

STAN: Whatever

STAN: Fuck you

CRAIG: [ Gotta sleep in fucking pig shit this sucks fuck this ]

CLYDE: Hey

CLYDE: Hey CLYDE: Hey Tweek

TWEEK: Arrrghhh…What….

CLYDE: Do

CLYDE: Do you

CLYDE: Do you think

CLYDE: Do you think we CLYDE: Do you

CLYDE: Do you think we could

CLYDE: Maybe

CLYDE: Like

CLYDE: Go to like

CLYDE: Dennys

CLYDE: After this???

TWEEK: Whats

TWEEK: What's Dennys?

CLYDE: Oh

CLYDE: Uh

CLYDE: Maybe we could like

CLYDE: Go to Olive Garden then?

TWEEK: What

TWEEK: What's an olive?

TWEEK: And

TWEEK: And what's a Garden?

CLYDE: …

CLYDE: Oh you poor

CLYDE: Sweet

CLYDE: Summer child

CLYDE: You know what

CLYDE: I'm gonna take you to the Olive Garden

CLYDE: And you're gonna have the time of your fucking life

TWEEK: Uh

TWEEK: O

TWEEK: OKAY?????

CLYDE: Alright

CLYDE: I’ll see you there babe

TWEEK: Uh

TWEEK: UHHH

TWEEK: WHAT

TWEEK: DID YOU JUST CALL ME BABE TWEEK: WHAT???

TOLKIEN: Don’t fall for that shit

TOLKIEN: He doesn't wash his hands

TOLKIEN: Or his ass

TWEEK: Why's that relevant?

TOLKIEN: IT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING?????

TWEEK: CHILL OUT IT'S NOT THAT BAD

TOLKIEN: YES IT IS??????

TWEEK: …Whatevs

TOLKIEN: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS????

(edits made by @pissblanket)

[yutasbimil]

Ride With You

beomgyu x fem!reader | txt ff. [one-shot] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: fluff cw: frenemies vibe, friends to lovers, lots of bantering, teasing, much used 'person a got sick in bed, now person b takes care of 'em', falling in love, domestic fluff, playing video games, fluff! note: needed to take a break and cleanse from writing nasty things, need fluff in the meantime. needless to say, this is inspired by a post, and how reoccurring it is w/ beomgyu’s role in txt mvs and the beef(?) bikes have with him lmao. and im dumb af as well in riding one, this is the result ig lmao Surprisingly, I have a song in mind about this writing I did?! :0 (Shocking for me at least haha) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ | ‘Bodybag’ by chloe moriondo ! also, not that comfy w/ 2nd POV, tho hope 3rd POV is good for y'all ♡ word count: 4.6k

do not repost © yutasbimil (2024)

“Pabo-yah! We’re already late, Gyu!” Y/n huffed, stepping on the bike pedal harder. 

“Step on it, Y/n!” He further pressed his tone along with his grip on her waist. Her smirk is anything but mirth at the male’s hot touch.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Y/n resisted to roll her eyes and keep her eyes on the road. Heck, she can’t even shut her eyes for a moment but she’s very much annoyed already.

And I know what you’re thinking, you’d usually expect the guy pressing on the bike to lead, with the girl riding behind them. Not that she's thinking of rom-com tropes with this dweeb. Ew. 

If anything, Y/n thinks the same as well, but the exhausted cranks ticked her off. All of this whilst on how much Beomgyu is berating her while he’s the one sitting behind her. The nerves!

“Yeonjun keeps calling me! Our call time was ages ago—”

“Yes, I know, Captain Obvious!” Another huff, aligned as another tramp as a steep path meets them. And the ringing and vibrating noise in the background is pressuring her. “How about you be the one to take the wheel? Not me having to carry your ass up this hill!”

Man, why did they even think of taking a bike ride to go to the meetup?!

His dumbness is so contagious, that she might have to rethink her life choices hanging out with him too much. The single brain cell the two people have to share is oozing.

“Sorry if I have such a big ass—”

“For all things you have to apologize for,” Y/n grunts. “Why don’t you start with your stupidity? Pabo Beomgyu—”

The bike ride all the way to the hangout was rough, coarse as the words the two spit out to each other.

It was opposite to how soft her tone was at Taehyun, whom they just catch on with his magic tricks as if it’s an intermission number before their arrival.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes at how amused Y/n reacted, pulling two seats for both of them. He grabs her bag with a huff, putting it on a vacant seat.

“I know it’s impressive, but you seem overly fascinated by it, Y/n.”

“I don’t need your opinion, shut it, Gyu.”

“Hey, hey, how about you two chill?” Kai gestures to them to lower it down. 

Soobin bats an eye at Kai. Of course that will calm these two feisty beans. 

It earned another huff from Beomgyu as Yeonjun butts in, rubbing his hands in anticipation, he smirks at the two new arrivals. “And you two already know the deal right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Beomgyu throws a towel near Y/n, sliding his card with his other hand. “I’m on it—”

Barely having enough reaction time on the thrown towel, she wipes her sweat in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows at Beomgyu. “I also have to contrib—”

“I said I’m on it,” he pressed. “Don’t make me change my mind, Y/n.”

“Geez, Choi Beomgyu,” she says in defeat. “Suit yourself, Sweet Cheeks.”

Before another banter ensues with his sharp daggers at her, Soobin intervenes.

“Thank you, Choi Beomgyu!” He beams, wrapping both Beomgyu’s arms to grab his attention. 

‘I’m also late, why does he have to take all of the credit?’ Y/n pouts at the thought, and it remains a thought as Beomgyu looks like he's already settled it. She just stayed eased in her seat, having to emphasize at least to herself. ‘I need to pay for the food too since I’m also late.’ But she doesn't want to ruin Beomgyu’s already good mood.

In Beomgyu’s defense, they wouldn’t be late if it weren’t for him, and Y/n’s effort in taking them there, he had to make up for it. Of course, he won’t say that directly. 

“Beomgyu, you dummy,” she says inaudibly, more on pouting seeing him this energetic with them.

She just goes on and joins them but alas, her social battery is bound to be quickly depleted with a group dominated by extroverts.

“I'm sure Y/n missed us so much she's this speechless huh?” Yeonjun says, making Y/n smile wide at how he's even laughing along with the others. Hyuka’s laugh, in particular, is hilariously contagious, oh lord— “It's just been so long with the semester piling up uni work, y’kno? This is a nice break.”

“Look at how this cutie is gracing us with her charm.” He goes on and pinches her cheek but Beomgyu is quick to swat his hand away from her, earning a smirk from Yeonjun.

This sly fox.

Beomgyu quickly catches on and he gets caught in his clutches, turning to what Yeonjun wanted.

“Aigooo…” Yeonjun turns his attention to him. He just goes on to aggressively wipe Beomgyu's lips as he's pretty much slobbered with gochujang sauce to be even bothered.

“Hyung! You almost wiped his lips off!” Kai points out how Yeonjun is holding down Beomgyu's head a bit too firmly.

Soobin just laughs hysterically. “That better shut him up, he's hella noisy!”

Yeonjun continues with his agenda at hand, further throwing Beomgyu off with his question. “Don't you agree Y/n is such a cutie, Beomgyu? Good enough to be someone's girlfriend, hmmm?”

Yeonjun kinda hitting on Y/n earns an eye roll from the other. “Ya! Stop that.”

“I ought to start than being a slowpoke!” Yeonjun was clearly taking Beomgyu's annoyance with his comment rather than Yeonjun touching him.

“What are you on about?”

Y/n is just ignoring them. Not catching on as it's pretty much the same thing with their bantering. Right? She just shakes her head, it can't be even bothered. Hyuka is mostly the only one who got the hang of being nice to a girl, and Taehyun… Soobin as well. Maybe because they have a sister. Or who knows?

Y/n sighs.

It's not just being nice and giving compliments being the lack or being the problem.

“You guys need to talk to girls more.” her tone is a bit prim. The jerk of the guys’ brow set a different mood. It just left Y/n tilting their head on them.

Or whatever they’re trying to achieve here for the matter.

Is this Yeonjun’s way of making up for all the teasing? But how is it that Beomgyu is against this whole 'being nice' thing? And towards me?

Yeonjun was simply complimenting me, right? How is it that Beomgyu is so provoked?

Her thoughts just left her spinning like a cyclone.

Given that it's Beomgyu that talks the most with Y/n. They're pretty close. And his company fills the warmth and hole that she needs to be entertained.

As much as she despises his guts, might as well put his existence to use, right?

But is bantering all there's to it? 

Because outside the claw ripping and hissing, there isn’t much room given for them to talk heart-to-heart. The others give them a chance but it’s often thrown out the window quickly, as bantering seems to be the top priority and the most natural and most sane option for the two.

What even begins to draw and intrigue me with such a guy?

Y/n had her chin propped up in her palm, lazily glancing over Beomgyu and others going about their day. 

What's stopping them from being close?

Not that she wants to be close with him of course. 

It’s not like she really looks at her obnoxious friend in a certain light right? Y/n doesn’t treat Beomgyu any differently, if anything she’s mostly focused on him just because he’s an attention-grabbing loudmouth of a friend. She’s even sure that given Y/n had four more other guys to validate this, they’ll say the same tops how they just appear as frenemies at most give or take.

She’s left quiet the whole time just observing the group, particularly the loud megaphone they acquired of a friend. There was a clear distinction between who is introverted and extroverted. With how Soobin and Y/n are just munching their way into the bread they ordered in peace. 

Can there ever be a day for me and Beomgyu to be this solemn as well?

Aish, what am I even saying? The redness on her face is easily prompted up her skin as she fixes herself in her seat. Y/n kept her demeanor stoic and expressionless. Not that she was even trying to give effort on this.

Having gotten used to their silence and behavior, Taehyun picked up something else from the lady that he had to tap into her shoulder.

“You good?” Taehyun says, gesturing with a thumbs up. She mirrors his bright expression, though it came off bleaker than expected. “Fine, Taehyunnie, just tired.”

She didn't know that that would be the first surge of her fatigue.

“Where’s Y/n?” 

You wouldn't really expect it to be coming out of Beomgyu's mouth as 1. They are almost always the two stuck to the hip, it's mostly the gang asking either of them where each other is. and 2. Don't they hate each other's guts to be this concerned about the other's absence?— But that dismisses the first point— Soobin shook his head and finally answered Beomgyu's query, though with the same worry. 

“Didn't she message you that she's staying sick at home?”

A crease appeared on Beomgyu's forehead. “Wasn't she just fine the other day?”

Soobin shrugs. “I thought so too, we're thinking of visiting her later but she refused. Her cold is contagious, she said.”

“Aish, I don't care. You know how that girl is.” 

With a sprint, Soobin wasn't able to stop Beomgyu in his tracks. But he knows as well how his friend means well, and Beomgyu knows Y/n the best. Even if they appear they would slit each other's throats.

-

“Fudgesticks, my throat is killing me.” 

It’s as if a slit down her neck appeared, along with piles of tissues by her bedside consuming her space.

Y/n also forgot due to her raging headache to buy some necessities to at least ease her pain. She can't talk well to let her Mom know so she's mostly stuck in bed.

“My vision is too blurry for this.” 

Even tapping on her phone is strenuous. Y/n gets into another coughing fit before she hears a knock on the door. 

She didn't order anything, or know someone coming over. But the familiar footsteps and patterned knock even pushed through her muffled hearing.

Her ears turned red at the sight of her friend, a bag on hand with some fever-cooling patches. Even with a mask on, he still looks cool. Huh?

What was that about, Y/n?

Moreover… What the hell is he here for?!

“Beomg—” She was quickly shut silent as he peeled off the seal on the cooling patch, placing it on her forehead. It at least soothes her, relaxing her in her bed. Maybe because of the elevated temperature that she softens for Beomgyu. 

He pulls down his mask as he leans close, checking her neck with the back of his hand. Y/n didn’t know but this was the most quiet she had seen Beomgyu. His face painted with worry and seriousness even throws her off. Is her fever turning her delirious? How is it that every bit of his movement is caught by her vision? As if played in slow motion? Heol. 

Y/n from her is sure she’s stone-cold sober and off her fever already. So this might be caused by something else… Okay, breathe.

But it's not usual for him to be this way. 

He even fixes the placement of the cooling patch before speaking again. “Damn, it barely fits with your forehead so big.”

There we go.

“Be glad I'm not in the energy to argue right now.” She barely responds as another cough kicks in, Y/n quickly covers her mouth as Beomgyu hands her a tissue.

“I'll make the most out of it, no worries “ He beams a shit-eating grin.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asks. Most probably to annoy me, she figures. That’s practically the reason he was born to do so. But what added another crease on her forehead was her realization hitting her, glancing back at her door. “And how…?”

“Your mom is going out, so she told me to take care of you.”

“Heol.”

“Hey, don't be like that,” Beomgyu shakes his head, but no dismay can be traced in his wide smile. “What I'm doing is already charity, showering you with my presence.”

“That goes more to Mom.” she snarks. “She likes you so much.”

“Hmmm? I'm so handsome and nice that she wants me as a son huh?”

She probably shouldn't have said that. It's obvious how it pumps his ego with his head already so massive.

“Since I'm done acknowledging your presence, how ‘bout you go home.” she huffs, pulling the blanket over her face.

Beomgyu just sits beside her in her bed, shrugging as he keeps his lips pursed. “I know you'll reject me coming here if I don't barge in, so I had my way.”

“Right…” she coughs again, limiting her words and pulling further away from Beomgyu. “I suppose…ha- the others… told you not to visit?”

“Yeah, you were quite persistent on it, knowing Soobin he'll comply. But remember I'm more persistent than you, Y/n.”

“Making it a competition still, huh?” She barely rolls her eyes at him, in a mix of amusement and annoyance. But the cooling feeling on her forehead and the paper bag beside her puts her at ease. She can't help but stare at him but it feels quite strange seeing him like this, and the two of them not bantering for a hot minute. 

The sickness buff I guess, he's being nice.

“Plus, your mom makes delicious soup, I ought to have it all by myself without the gang.”

His true colors show through. Y/n snickers. “FYI, that's for me, Beomgyu.”

“For us.”

He’s still as cheeky, she digressed.

Usually, it's no fun being sick in bed, boring at most with nothing to do. But Beomgyu's visit at least lessened that boredom. 

After a warm meal together, he still stayed in and revealed to bring some of his DVDs for them to share. Besides the more calmer version of Beomgyu, their conversation is to the least minimal with bantering, even having to adjust to her not screaming or straining her throat too much over video games. Fighting games and cooking games are surprisingly a good match for the two of them despite being cat and dog most of the time.

He had been incredibly mindful and detailed in being patient with her despite being a fanatic gamer on things. His tone and deep voice are soothing to the ears he's even helping her in the process.

Is it really just the heat of the slight fever or is the warmth of her cheeks different from anything?

“Ya! Pabo-yah! The rice is burning, Y/n!” It snaps Y/n back to her place, they're playing Overcooked, and Beomgyu is their supposed Head Chef. 

He had a stern look on his face that made her flustered.

“Sorry!” She didn’t even bump his arm that harshly but having to hear him wince at her closeness, she had to follow-up another apology. I didn’t notice the band-aids and bandages earlier. “What happened to your arm?”

“That’s nothing, come on, let’s go over this stage again.” Beomgyu quickly brushes off any means of asking about it. It draws her attention away further when he’s back with his immersed stare and explanation to her throughout the game.

She can't help but enjoy this moment but has he been this warm leaning close to her and less annoying?

Wasn’t this what tickled her curiosity about what it would look like if they were anything but down each other’s throats?

And this is surprisingly… to her liking. Being with Choi Beomgyu like this.

This was different from the other day. Much different from their usual time around each other. Or has his smile always been like this and I just refused to see it this way because my pride is in the way? 

Nah, being prideful and spouting the word ‘pabo’ runs smoothly and is easier.

This is easier to maintain.

But his smiling at her as they got 3 Stars in the game struck her as well.

“We work so well, Beomgyu.” I can at least give him the same warmth for now.

Y/n needs to get out of this fever-like dream.

Y/n is still not quite out of it even with her fever and health recuperated. It added more confusion to her seeing Beomgyu up and early before heading to school, near an alley practicing riding a bike.

He almost topples over along his bike seeing her presence— is he embarrassed or?

Y/n jerked her body in a mix of running towards him to check up on him and a sense of withdrawal. She might’ve looked stupid, glitching in place.

She's supposed to hide as she's still not ready to face him, but there's nothing wrong right? How is it that she's this ditzy? Why did she even think of hiding in the first place?

But she cannot stand looking at his stupid face, ridiculous how it's all for another reason other than annoyance—

“Y/n~!” Beomgyu chimes as he comes rushing to her.

He invites her to go to school together, mostly it's incoherently received on Y/n’s end as she's washed with disbelief.

Blinking a few more times, she just stands there motionless. More on how, he… Choi Beomgyu… wants to go together with me to school?

“Okay… uhm, are we taking the bus or?” The words finally reach Y/n’s tongue but her vision still cannot process much looking at Beomgyu's face.

“We can take a bike ride on the way?” Beomgyu suggests. 

Okay, coming off with an odd but usual start for them. 

Huh?

“Are you asking me to drive for you, or—” She starts slowly, trying to conceal her tone. Y/n is a bit pissed knowing she just came off from a fever but was dumbfounded at his answer.

“I’ll be the one…” Beomgyu says.

She perked a brow at him, skeptical of his answer. “You sure about that?”

Beomgyu promptly nods.

Being too caught up to think of even bringing up what she saw earlier, by the looks of it… was he learning how to ride a bike these past few days? She can’t even begin to look at his obvious bandages… Choi Beomgyu, you… sighs… Don’t tell me it’s because of him practicing too much? But why so suddenly? And for what…?

“Come on, Y/n, we're gonna catch up to Christmas if you still don't plan on budging.”

Y/n barely even had a chance to refuse with Beomgyu already pulling her close.

The bike ride was a little bit bumpy, but more or less smoother than expected not till they encountered some humps along the road. 

“Beomgyu, slow down!” she yelps. It made Y/n cling to his torso, the vibrations of his laughter didn't help as they scurried on their way to university. 

He's having too much fun with this.

-

“Why are you suddenly being nice to me?” She finally mustered up. 

“Haven't I always been nice to you?”

“Are you kidding me?” For once she was not amused by his teasing, her knowledge of the bandages on Beomgyu’s arm added to her withdrawal from banter.

“I'm the nicest out of the crew, what do you mean?” Beomgyu appealed.

“Yeah, yeah. You're a saint compared to Kai.”

She was trying her best not to fidget in place, but her fingers landed at the edge of his polo shirt. Her pleading eyes made Beomgyu give in. And this isn’t the first time this happened to him.

“I feel bad, okay?” Beomgyu slips, but the context is still not out there for the other end to comprehend, making the girl look up at him. 

“Hmmm?”

He tried his best to keep the light atmosphere, but maybe the sting on his arms urged him to reach out to her? Here goes nothing.

“You've been doing much for me, Y/n.” Beomgyu voiced out. “I didn't even realize you were tired. Last week when you still pushed through to ride a bike with you. I mean I've always seen you as a strong person, but I often forget how you hide your problems. And I at least want to give back to you.”

“Huh?” Is he for real now? But he had done so much for her in taking care of her when she was sick, and in some other instances—

“I know you don't like hearing this or me taking the blame but I know it's partly because of me you got sick. You got fatigued over carrying my big ass. And yeah, I've been a big ass for quite some time now towards you so I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, your big ass is at fault here. Definitely.” It slipped off Y/n’s lips out of disbelief that he even apologized for that, she sneers. “You're heavy up that hill when you’ve got mountains,” Y/n added, pointing at his bottoms.

“Y/n, what the heck? You're talking to me about my ass like that?” Beomgyu goes on and hides his bum with both his hands.

“Yeah, you're my ass.”

“What?”

“What?”

Y/n is shocked at herself as well, did she just claim him-oh sh—

“You're an ass,” she retaliated. “A-and, you started it!”

“Nuh-uh, I heard something else.”

Is he sure he wants to guarantee what I just said?!

“It's probably because you fell from that bike from that curb.” Y/n turned her back to him quickly and fastened her pace. “Now come on, chop-chop! We're gonna be late, remember?”

Beomgyu blushed to himself, didn't know she'd catch him that way but he'd act nonchalant and turn the tides back at her.

Just as she’s secured in his back, he stepped on the pedal and took her by surprise. “So you want me as your ass?”

The emphasis on ‘your’— It took all her self-control to convert her urge to push him off into huffing out CO2. “Can we stop talking about asses?”

“Aye, sorry you don't have one—”

“Choi Beomgyu!”

“No worries, I'll let you carry mine anytime.” The obvious wink in his tone made her writhe in embarrassment. Y/n just holds onto him even though she’s going to turn this smooth ride unstable with the amount of teasing he’s doing.

“I'd rather not.”

“Okay, I'll ride along with you in whatever you prefer. But don't you want to ask me what I prefer?”

“What?” She lightly tapped him on the shoulder, even by the leg to signal him to side the road first. Without going down the bike, they just stayed there, the atmosphere between the two not as still as the raving wind. The two are slightly in regret for being too close to each other. But they’re also too stubborn to budge to hide away the obvious pumping heartbeats deafening them.

“How about you take the whole package, can I be yours?” Still not turning to Y/n, Beomgyu shakes like the leaf on the tree.

Y/n furrowed her brows, mouth agape as it’s been robbed with words. She did her best not to touch his bandages to make him twirl and turn to face him properly. 

Y/n leaned in close to him but the words still not quite reconnected with her brain.

Beomgyu blushes at their distance, much the same and quite different from when she was sick. There's a hint of rose pink in her cheeks that he is quite distracted to not notice her flick his forehead. “Aish!”

“Are you sick in the head?!” Y/n fumes. “What nonsense are you spurting, do you even take responsibility for that?!”

“Yes!”

“Pabo. Let's go.” Turns her back blushing, but he easily catches on to get the bike from her. “Let's go, Pabo-yah.”

Moment of silence enveloping them, the thumping of their hearts still quite not simmering down their caged bodies. The only thing distancing them are the bike handles they’re walking in by other ends.

“Are you serious?” She almost blurted way too loudly to her liking, it came off breathless. “Be mine?”

“Be yours, be my baby. Whatever suits you.” Beomgyu directly stares at her but he’s also on the verge of melting in his scarlet cheeks. But he had to stand his ground and make this clear. “And okay, I know Yeonjun and I get on each other's nerves a lot but the last time just pushed me to admit it, okay? 

“The randomly brought up comments about ‘cutie’ and ‘GF’ thingy with me?”

“So you were listening to that time— but that’s beside the point, you’re more than that, Y/n.” He heaves in a breathe. "Okay… it’s just that he did push me to admit that I like you. I like you, Y/n. Not to sound like a high school kid but I like- like you, Y/n. To be clear. And I'm sorry for being an ass most of the time but you know that it wasn't meant to hurt you like harm you."

“I know, Beomgyu,” she admits, finally without that mask of pride of wanting to one-up him, as there is no means of doing that at the moment. As of right now, she’s also seeing Beomgyu as he is, without their childish attempts to get into each other’s skin. 

And why did they even begin to do that, and since when?

That is not for this agenda to go through, Y/n just laughs in disbelief, but it’s now about her whole belief system being rearranged about this man standing so close to her.

Without any ounce of fake-built grudge, she warmly smiles at Beomgyu.

“Same here. I like you.”

It really showed through more in her vulnerable state, and that time he took care of her when she was sick in bed resurfaced a lot of things in the past as proof he had been looking out for her all this time. Even though it is mostly swept under the rug forcibly by the guy himself by the amount of teasing and bantering. He was hiding it under the guise of being a prick when he’s actually soft on the inside.

But it’s all no longer for naught.

Aish, Choi Beomgyu. We really went all through that as it’s more fun that way huh?

“I bet Soobin will say ‘Took you guys long enough!’” The thought brushed past Y/n, making her shake her head in all this absurdity. 

“I’ll add another 5,000 won if Taehyun says ‘I almost got sick of your bantering!’”

Calculating the closeness and blurting out her summation, she marveled at the near future expectation. “Now they have to deal with us being lovey-dovey, huh?”

“Heol.” 

The duo, as if in full sync, made fake barf noises, then burst out laughing. Y/n and Beomgyu unconsciously intertwined their fingers until fully wrapped around each other, giddily holding hands on the way to the university.

So the feelings were hindering them, and they concealed it underneath all that cat and dog masquerade.

But what’s sure for her is that she’ll certainly ride along these feelings and where this would take them, together.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[ohbo-ohno]

mmamMmMmMmmMMm that last Kinktober one was INTENSE AF but SO SO GOOD

I love love LOVE it when characters cry during sex/play bc!!!! I do that too!!!!!!!! Sex is such a rush of hormones and shit and I’m already emotionally fucked as is so like almost no matter what happens my ass is gonna be crying

Kinda curious as to how Ghoap would react to a Reader who cries a lot during sex. Part of it is bc she’s scared and sad ofc but also because she’s just like that, that’s just what sex does to her!!! Like Johnny whines and licks up her tears because he thinks he’s hurting her too badly and she kinda has to explain that while, yes, she still hates them, but also she just cries during sex as a default

bonus points if Johnny and Simon kiss or lick away her tears and it makes her cry more :(((

~🦋

oh god im replying so late and i have no idea which kinktober you're referencing lmao im SORRY!!!! i love you

sorry for the out of nowhere rec but @charliemwrites's fic squeeze me, i squeak! has like my fucking favorite reader crying with ghost ever. it's a perfect fic and also that element of the smut is just perfect. 10/10. charlie i love you

i think ghost and soap would both love a reader who cries during sex. it's just that extra proof that they're breaking you down and making you feel good.

to soap, the tears dripping from your eyes are the same as the slick dripping from your hole - just another bit of evidence for how turned on you are, more proof of how good he's making you feel. he fucking loves when you cry. he licks all of them up for you, leaves your face wetter than it was before, and moans at the taste of your tears

to ghost, your tears are evidence of just how thoroughly he's broken into you. you're so overcome with pleasure that you're crying for him, and you look oh so pretty when you do. he won't wipe away the tears, he wants to see them, wants to watch as you blubber and cry while he splits you open on his cock