#it's fine they're wearing a little sweater :3

[cosmossystem]

Hi again! Sorry we didnt reply right away we were busy yesterday. And also overwhelmed because i dont think we’ll be able to keep up that length of message after the intro lmao. We visited our mom yesterday, we do that almost every week because we’re trying to move our stuff from our mom’s house to our new apartment. But it’s an ordeal because we just have a cart and public transit, mom cant drive either and stepdad’s car doesnt work.

We also sometimes write down things about our friends that we want to remember, but we keep forgetting and falling out of the habit of doing it. Might try to start doing that again, maybe in a new journal. We used to have really bad memory barriers before most of us merged into a subsys. The subsys might end up as one fused alter eventually, but final fusion for the whole system is NOT what we want. We’d be depressed without all our friends and our brain husband.

Idk what else to talk about, is there anything you’d like us to elaborate on in our original message? Also, how are you? How was your day yesterday and/or today? Youre staying in a dorm, so youre in college right? We tried to do college, might go back to learn ASL because it’s useful, but we can only handle one class at a time and it has to be in person. Idk why, our brain just isnt good at school. All throughout elementary, middle, and high school we were consistently a D student at best, but on tests we always scored higher than average students, so we were always described as “very smart but very lazy” because we didnt do any classwork or essays or homework and only did tests. We got into gifted and advanced classes based on test scores. Our mom always insisted there were no mental issues going on but there was probably something, we weren’t really “lazy”, we spent every moment of our time working on personal ambitions like writing stories or calculating how many dragons are in each tribe in wings of fire. We still havent figured out why we sucked at school honestly. What classes are you taking? How are you doing in them? Also feel free to not answer any questions if they make you uncomfy, im just asking for the sake of conversation, you can talk about whatever you want and just ignore all the questions too 🍄

wow i'm so sorry i left this ask in the askbox for so long!! i think i opened the inbox at some point on accident, saw this ask, and then forgot that i didn't answer it :')

don't ever feel like you have to keep up w/ long messages! honestly seeing so much info at once id a lot for me to take in so it's a lot easier to respond to shorter stuff… BUT, that shouldn't stop you from talking either! if you have a lot to say i will listen!

wow that sounds hard!! a new apartment is a big deal though!! so that's great and i'm happy for you! do you like the new place? even though moving is tough i could imagine it'd be exciting to have a brand new apartment~ i hope that's going well for yall!!

i get that tbh i'm not rly good at it either, it's really difficult to keep up a habit yknow? and actually same here about integration, we could never do full integration that would be SO stressful and upsetting i think it would just make us split again :']

we're… ok, not fantastic. finally got to the doctor and got a letter for accomodations! it's… not everything we need but it's a start i guess. i don't want to get too into it here but this has been a verrrrrrry rough week because we have one specific class that requires a group project and… the group has been sort of bullying us and the professor won't do anything about it :') so i've been incredibly drained and dealing with flare ups this week and spent most of my free time just trying to relax (read: age regress, nap, play animal crossing, and watch movies with my internal caretakers.)

yes in college! a freshman! which makes us a little late to starting but whatever. we're doing an art major so all of our classes (except for one) are art courses! kinda similar to you, we score high on the work we do but end up falling behind quite often due to audhd or our chronic illness… so we're passing in all of them but often just barely :'D i relate a bit to the "very smart but lazy" thing bc when we were little we missed a lot of days of school because school was a chore to get to, but when we DID go we often scored high and got good grades that only got dragged down bc of our lack of attendance… i think one year i missed something like 20 days of school!! and no things have not improved LOL. oh but i also want to take ASL classes too! i asked my advisor about it and (at risk of doxxing us here) she said that they have started offering them but i couldn't take them bc they booked up SO QUICK that no seats were available… and then right before the fall semester started, they cancelled the course????? and they didn't bring it back for the spring???? idk it's weird. anyway there's other places around us offering ASL courses so if push comes to shove, we'll take one of those over the summer :P

anyway, all of our in-person classes are over so we're home for the next month or so. i do have a few finals left to finish up but after next week i'm done. and right now i'm tired… so i'm taking a bit of a break to rest.

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: You didn't think you'd find someone after your husband of 8 years suggested an open marriage. A few weeks after matching on a dating app, you find yourself swept away on a surprise getaway with none other than Seonghwa: your husband’s boss, and the man who’s been quietly turning your world upside down. The chemistry is undeniable, the tension electric, but you made a promise to be honest with your husband before things go too far. Still... what’s the harm in finding a few loop-holes? If it’s not technically sex, does it really count?

Word count: 13.1K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, a little angst, slow burn, smut (they do something so many times in this chapter lmao sorry i got carried away)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), TEASING, dom Seonghwa, fingering, oral (male/fem receiving), grinding hard (omg i don't know how to explain it, they're literally millimeters from just going at it), lmk if I missed anything! Author's note: I'm in a good mood. And you guys are literally so sweet and supporting, I can not NOT post chapter 2 already!? so here it is! I hope you have an amazing day <3

PART 1 PART3

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

You’re not sure how it’s been two weeks.

In some ways, everything feels exactly the same. Same apartment, same unread texts from your husband, same untouched conversation that’s been looming over you like a cloud.

But then there’s Seonghwa.

And somehow, everything feels different.

You talk every day. Constant check-ins, sweet little texts, voice notes when he’s driving, memes he knows will make you laugh. Sometimes he calls at night just to hear your voice before bed. And you don't think you're imagining it, that softness in the way he says your name, the unspoken want in his pauses.

You’ve seen him a few times. Nothing dramatic, no grand dates, just… him. His space. His voice. A mug of tea pressed into your hands. A blanket he tugged tighter around your shoulders without saying a word. Quiet dinners where you talked about the stupidest things, where you teased him until he cracked up, eyes crinkling, hand squeezing your knee under the table like he couldn’t not touch you.

And still, he never pushed. Never asked for more than what you were ready to give.

But that didn’t stop you from kissing him.

You kissed him on his couch after laughing too long at something dumb he said. You kissed him in his hallway when you were saying goodbye and didn’t want to leave. You kissed him once in the middle of a sentence because you couldn’t stop yourself.

Every time, it left you both breathless.

And every time, his hands stayed respectful, cupping your cheek, holding your waist, letting you choose how far. Letting you feel safe.

You don’t think he knows how much that means.

You’re still married. You still wear your ring as a reminder. And even if that feels like a technicality at this point, you haven’t had the conversation. Not the real one. You’ve tried texting your husband more than once, saying you needed to talk. Said you weren’t okay. You meant to say more, but what’s the point when all you get back is a thumbs up or "we’ll talk soon"?

He hasn't been home. He hasn’t asked how you are. You’ve stopped waiting for him to care.

So when your phone buzzes on Friday morning with Seonghwa’s name, you unlock it fast, too fast. Already smiling before you even read it.

Seonghwa: I need you to trust me. Pack a small weekend bag. No heels. Cozy clothes. Something to sleep in. Maybe a swimsuit. Pick you up at 5.

You stare at your phone for a full minute, grinning like an idiot.

You: Is this a kidnapping?

Seonghwa: Yes. But the softest, coziest kind. With snacks.

You: …Fine. I’m in.

Your smile falters, but in the softest way. Your heart melts.

Packing is easy. The hard part is waiting.

You toss in leggings, sweaters, that shirt of his you still haven’t returned. You throw in your swimsuit, mostly because you’re curious. And maybe because you like the idea of his eyes on you. And when you zip the bag closed, you find yourself hoping the quiet weekend isn’t too quiet. That maybe you’ll get to kiss him again, this time in a place where no one else exists but the two of you.

When he picked you up, he had two coffees in a cup holder and your favorite granola bars in the passenger seat. And the second you buckled in, he turned to you, eyes warm and voice soft.

“Hi.”

That it is. Just that one word. And your whole heart melted.

The two hour drive is filled with talking, laughing, and the occasional hand on the thigh from Seonghwa. You don’t know what to expect when he starts driving outside of town and into a wooded area, but when a lovely, aesthetic cabin comes into view, your mouth drops. The inside of the cabin wraps around you like a hug, but Seonghwa’s already moving, dropping both your bags by the coat rack and stretching with a groan that makes his hoodie ride up slightly.

“I should give you the grand tour,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you with that boyish smile that makes your chest do a weird little skip. “Even though it’s not really grand.”

You follow him through the cabin as he gestures casually, left to a small but cozy guest room, across to the bathroom with a deep old tub and brass fixtures, and then finally his room at the back of the cabin.

“This is mine,” he says, flicking on the light in his bedroom. It’s simple, wooden floors, navy sheets, a stack of books on the nightstand, but it’s very him. Soft and clean, masculine without trying.

You hover by the door. “Feels weirdly like you.”

He chuckles. “That’s either a compliment or you’re calling me boring.”

“Oh, definitely a compliment,” you murmur, eyes scanning the room. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Mm, well, let’s see if that still holds up.”

You raise a brow as he turns and heads toward a door at the end of the hall. “There’s more?”

“It’s technically the basement,” he says, grabbing a light switch and flipping it on, “but it’s my favorite part.”

You follow him down the short staircase, and the moment you step off the last stair, your mouth parts slightly.

The space is warm, not just heated, but glowing. Soft lighting reflects off the water of a wide, in-ground pool, steam rising lazily above it. The air smells faintly of eucalyptus and cedar, and the entire room is surrounded by smooth, stone-textured walls and plush seating tucked into corners. A wall of glass windows looks out into the forest beyond, the trees dark silhouettes in the fading light.

You turn to him, wide-eyed. “You have a pool. In your cabin.”

He shrugs a little, but the corner of his mouth pulls up. “Was kind of a present to my family. First thing I bought when things started going well.”

“Seonghwa.” You step forward and dip your fingers in the water, it’s warm and silky-soft. “We are absolutely coming back down here later,” you say.

He grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He watches you a beat longer, something unreadable behind his eyes, then says, “Gonna grab some firewood before it gets too dark. You okay here?”

You nod, but as he heads out, you drift back toward the living room, standing near the wide back windows.

He’s outside now, rolling up his sleeves as he stacks firewood like it weighs nothing. His jaw clenches when he lifts the heavier pieces, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed in focus. It’s almost criminal how good he looks like this. The sky’s turning gold behind him, making his skin glow, casting a soft light through his hair. And you just… stare.

Because this is the same man who ran his fingers gently through your hair on the couch, who kissed your forehead like it meant something, who told you to pack your bag for a weekend away without ever asking for anything in return.

But damn, he’s hot.

He glances toward the window and catches you watching. Raises a brow. Smirks. Doesn’t break eye contact as he sets the last log down and brushes his hands off on his jeans, and God, you feel like your skin is warming faster than the fireplace he’s about to light.

By the time he’s back inside, shaking the cold from his clothes, you’re in the kitchen, pretending you weren’t just ogling him like a teenage crush.

“See something you like?” he says as he walks by, voice low and teasing.

You scoff. “Relax, lumberjack. Just making sure you didn’t freeze to death.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything, just slides up behind you as you start pulling ingredients out of the bag he brought. His arms wrap around your waist loosely, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You cook, right?” you ask, leaning into him just a little.

“I survive,” he answers. “But for you, I’ll follow any recipe you give me.”

The kitchen fills with the soft sounds of chopping and the simmering of sauce, your bodies constantly brushing. He’s touchy in the most subtle ways, hand guiding your lower back as you switch places, fingers brushing yours as he hands you a spoon, lingering way too long when you try to rinse a dish and he steps in just to “help.”

At one point, you drop a piece of onion and groan, bending to pick it up, and he makes a soft, playful noise behind you.

“Dangerous territory,” he mutters.

You glance over your shoulder. “You're in my space.”

He tilts his head, impossibly smug. “It's my cabin.”

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling, heart full in a way you didn’t expect to happen so quickly again.

And maybe he feels it too, because he kisses your temple again before stepping away to stir the pot.

But underneath it all is the quiet awareness of what hasn’t been said yet. The unspoken weight of your still-husband, and the fact that Seonghwa, for all his charm and sweetness, hasn’t pushed you to talk about it.

So the touches stay light. The kisses stay soft. Neither of you cross that line.

But once the dishes are done, and the fire crackles in the hearth, the cabin feels like a world of its own. 

The pool room is already warm when Seonghwa walks in, steam curling through the air in soft waves. The glow from the underwater lights dances on the ceiling, casting shifting shadows over the stone walls. He moves quietly, setting fresh towels on the bench, lighting a couple of the wall sconces to soften the ambiance. His t-shirt comes off first, then his sweats, revealing black swim trunks that hang low on his hips, and he paces a little, half-distracted as he runs a hand through his hair.

He’s calm until he hears footsteps on the stairs.

When you step into view, wrapped in a towel, his breath catches.

Your fingers grip the edge of the towel a little tighter. You hesitate. The bikini you’re wearing is simple, but it’s more skin than you’ve shown in months, more than your husband ever really looked at, anyway. There's a flicker of hesitation, a flare of insecurity rising uninvited. You almost say something to brush it off, to deflect, but then your eyes find Seonghwa.

And he’s staring.

Not in a way that makes you shrink, but in a way that freezes him in place. Your breath hitches. You glance down and away, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck, and drop the towel, stepping toward the pool. You slip into the water, letting the heat rise around your body, washing away a bit of that self-consciousness with it. Seonghwa joins you, smooth and slow, his eyes still lingering.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, voice smaller than usual, almost embarrassed.

“I know,” he says, not even blinking. “I couldn’t stop if I tried.” His gaze doesn’t flicker. It’s steady, reverent. Like you just knocked the air out of him.

You swim around a bit first, exchanging light, almost flirty conversation. It's relaxed, warm, his presence does that to you. Grounding you, calming that nervous swirl in your chest.

Then, eventually, you stop in the deeper end. You tread water in front of him, breathing just a little heavier than before. Your hands rest on his shoulders, tentative, and he lets you come closer.

Your legs slide around his waist. He catches you easily. Neither of you moves for a beat.

The water sloshes softly around you. His hands settle on your hips, anchoring you, but careful, not grabbing, not pulling. Just holding. You look at him and something in your chest flutters.

“You okay?” he asks softly, eyes scanning your face.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… haven’t worn something like this in a while. Feels weird.”

He tilts his head, fingers brushing your side gently under the water. “You look beautiful.”

You don’t answer, but you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder, enjoying how calming and safe you feel. His hands flex slightly against your hips, like it takes everything in him not to pull you closer. The tension between you simmers. Quiet, patient, but unmistakable. He smells like clean skin and chlorine, his wet hair slicked back, droplets sliding down the strong line of his neck. 

You You don’t meet his eyes at first when you speak. “Can I tell you something kinda… embarrassing?”

That gets his attention instantly. His brows lift, and he leans in slightly, voice warm and gentle. “You can tell me anything.”

You pull back to be able to look into his eyes.

“I’ve only ever been with him. My husband.” The word tastes heavy in your mouth. “I’ve never been with anyone else, and I don’t know… that feels weird to admit.”

He doesn’t flinch. He just blinks once, tilts his head a little. “It’s not weird,” he says, quieter now. “It just means you trusted someone. That’s not a bad thing.”

You bite your lip. “I guess. But now I’m here, with you, and-,” your cheeks grow hot “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know how to be good at this. What if I’m awkward? Or don’t know what you like?”

His hands squeeze lightly at your hips. “You think I’ve been touching you like this because I’m not into it?”

That makes you laugh, and he grins, leaning in just enough that his nose brushes yours. But he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

You glance down at the way your chest rises and falls in your bikini top, the water gliding over your skin. “It’s been a long time since I felt wanted like this. And it’s a little scary, to want something but not be sure how to ask for it.”

Seonghwa’s voice drops, eyes tracing the droplets clinging to your collarbone. “You’re asking just fine.”

His gaze lingers on you, openly, hungrily. His hands are still on your hips, but they inch upward just slightly, thumbs brushing the skin just under the hem of your bikini top. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to want it. The rest we’ll figure out.”

Your breath catches. “I do want something.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours again. “Yeah?”

You press your lips to his cheek. Then his jaw. Then lower, teasing a line down his throat. “I’ve been thinking…” Your voice is practically a whisper now. “It doesn’t count as sex if it’s… other stuff, right?”

He groans, head tipping back. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe,” you murmur against his skin, “but I haven’t had anything in months. You expect me to behave?”

His grip tightens at your waist, and you feel it, the slow, undeniable shift in him.

“You keep grinding on me like this,” he warns, breath uneven, “and I’m not gonna be able to play nice.”

You grind a little harder.

“Oops.”

Seonghwa growls low, then turns swiftly, your back pressing against the warm tile wall of the pool. He doesn’t kiss you right away. He just looks at your parted lips, your damp lashes, the water beading on your chest.

“You’re sure?” he breathes. “No sex. Just this?”

You nod. “Loop-hole.”

He huffs a laugh against your lips, and he finally kisses you. Hungry and hot and messy in the best way. You arch into him, his hands roam freely now, one trailing down to your thigh to hold you in place, the other teasing along your side.

And then he drops lower.

He doesn’t hesitate, not even a second.

Seonghwa shifts your weight in his hands, lifting you like it’s nothing. The warm water laps at your thighs as he sets you gently on the smooth tile ledge that curves around the inner rim of the pool, half in, half out of the water. Your calves stay submerged, but the rest of you is gloriously exposed, slick with heat and nerves and want.

Your breath hitches. You’re not used to being seen like this. Vulnerable, bared, soaked in every way possible, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, hands still on your thighs, thumbs stroking gently back and forth. “You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Your fingers curl against the tile. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all it takes.

The second you nod, breathless, trembling, your thighs already spread for him on the edge of the tile, Seonghwa dives between your legs like he’s been dying to breathe you in. He pushes your bikini bottoms to the side and when his mouth finally meets you?

It’s filthy.

A guttural groan leaves his throat the second his tongue makes contact. Dragging through your folds like he’s savoring a rare delicacy. Deep, slow, deliberate. He doesn’t just taste you; he devours. He laps at your cunt like a man starved, tongue dipping in and out with obscene precision, like he’s memorizing every part of you by feel.

Your hands shoot to the tile behind you, head falling back against the damp stone as your thighs instinctively try to close, but Seonghwa growls and grabs your thighs with a bruising grip, holding you wide open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he rasps, voice wrecked and wet. “You gave this to me. I’m gonna take all of it.”

He buries himself in you, face pressed so deep you can barely breathe from the feeling. His nose nudges your clit, tongue sliding through your soaked heat, and he groans into you like you’re feeding something dark in him. You feel the vibration all the way through your spine.

“Fuck, Seonghwa-” you gasp, your voice wrecked, barely above a whisper. “I- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, not even pausing. “You’re gonna fucking come for me, and then I’m gonna keep going. I wanna hear how beautiful you sound.”

His hands slip beneath your ass, dragging your body closer, tilting your hips so he can really taste you, and then his mouth locks on your clit.

And he doesn’t stop.

He sucks it between his lips like he’s addicted, swirling his tongue, then flattening it, then flicking fast and filthy until your legs are shaking, your moans are spilling uncontrolled, and your fingers are desperately gripping at his wet hair.

His eyes flick up to watch you come undone, and the look on his face is wild. His mouth is soaked, his jaw flexing with how hard he’s working you, but he doesn’t stop. Not when your thighs begin to tremble. Not when your voice breaks in a moan. Not even when you cum with a sob, practically screaming his name.

He pulls back slowly, lips glistening, eyes locked on you with nothing short of adoration and something far more possessive.

“That,” he pants, voice low and full of heat, “was fucking divine.”

You’re breathless, shaking, completely undone.

And he? He just smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice smug and dark as he stands in the water, towering over you. When he kisses you, it’s slow. Deep. His hand cradles the side of your face like you’re something breakable, even after what he just did to you.

You taste yourself on his tongue, but you don’t pull away.

You kiss him back harder.

Because it’s not just filthy.

It’s intimate.

“I’m lost for words.” You say, panting and trying your best to catch your breath.

He looks deep into your eyes with a smile and says; “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.” 

***

The smell of coffee drifts into the cabin bedroom before anything else.

You stretch beneath the soft duvet, your body still humming with the aftershocks of last night. Every inch of you feels different, warm, electric, awake in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. You roll over, expecting to see him there beside you, but the space is empty. Still warm.

And then you hear him in the kitchen. The low sound of a cupboard closing, a quiet curse when something clatters, the faint hum of music from his phone. It makes your heart flutter for no good reason at all, just the image of him out there, shirtless and half-awake, trying to make breakfast like it’s something you’ve always done together.

You wrap the sheets around yourself and pad out to the kitchen.

Sure enough, he’s standing by the stove in a pair of sweatpants, hair messy and damp from a quick shower, one hand stirring something in a pan while the other scrolls his phone, probably checking a recipe.

He glances up the second he senses you. And when he sees you still wrapped in his sheets, skin kissed with leftover waterline marks and sleep in your eyes, he grins. Slow, soft, too fond for someone who’s only seen you for a few weeks.

“Mmm,” he hums, eyes trailing over you. “That’s a good look on you.”

You smile, tugging the fabric a little tighter around your chest. “So is that,” you say, gesturing at the way the waistband of his pants rides low, revealing the curve of his V-line. He doesn’t even flinch at the comment, just raises an eyebrow, like he knows what he’s doing to you.

You walk over to him, slipping behind the counter and stealing a peek into the pan. “What are we making?”

“Scrambled eggs,” he says, “but I’m winging it.”

“Dangerous,” you tease. “Let me help.”

He moves aside without protest, but not without brushing against you as he does, his bare chest ghosting your shoulder, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back. 

You make the eggs while he butters the toast. At some point, he leans in to steal a kiss at your temple. It’s sweet, until his fingers skim your hip beneath the sheet, slow and deliberate. You look up at him, your breath catching. His eyes are darker now, the atmosphere suddenly thick again.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you say quietly, “and I’ll burn the eggs.”

He only smirks. “Burn them, then.”

It doesn’t matter that you’re just making breakfast. Every second feels like foreplay. Eventually, you sit together at the kitchen island, knees brushing. He makes a show of complimenting your eggs, teasing you about how domestic this all is. The whole thing feels… too good. Too easy. And you’re both very aware of it.

At one point, he leans back in his chair and studies you, like he’s committing you to memory, like he wants to trace every line of your smile and lock it away.

“You’re different today,” he murmurs, voice soft.

You shrug, suddenly shy under his gaze. “So are you.”

He reaches over, thumb brushing your cheek. “In a good way?”

“In a really good way,” you say. And you mean it.

Because even with all the heat between you, even with how badly you want to climb onto his lap and pick up where last night left off, there’s something sweeter here, too.

Like maybe this isn’t just heat. Maybe it’s something more.

The day has been blissfully quiet, a perfect mix of soft sunlight streaming through the windows and the warm, fresh air of spring. After breakfast, you and Seonghwa take a slow walk down to the lake, the tension between you two still palpable, but there's a sense of ease too. 

Later that afternoon, you played cards on the couch. He was terrible at it. Mostly because he couldn’t concentrate.

“I think you’re cheating,” he accused, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I think you’re a sore loser,” you shot back, grinning.

He lunged for your cards, and you yelped, scrambling away, laughing. He tackled you into the cushions and tickled your ribs until you screamed. Then everything shifted. Suddenly he was on top of you, your legs tangled with his. His breath fanned across your lips. His hands, once playful, were now still. Firm. Intentional.

He looked down at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Then his voice dropped. “Kiss me.”

You did.

It wasn’t soft this time.

It was desperate.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, palms flat against your stomach, and you arched into him without thinking.

Your hips rocked.

His jaw clenched.

And just when it got too hot, when you were seconds away from completely unraveling again, you broke the kiss.

“Stop,” you whispered, breathless. “We can’t.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight. “I know. But god…”

You rolled onto your side, pulling him with you, your bodies still flush. “This is torture.”

“Sweetest kind,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder. “But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

He always knew what to say.

The cabin is warm, the fire crackling quietly as you and Seonghwa lay tangled together on the couch. His arm is around your waist, your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, both of you half-asleep, breathing in sync. The quiet, the closeness, it’s almost too good to be real. You feel his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and slow, and let your eyes drift shut.

Until your phone buzzes against the coffee table.

You freeze for a second, not wanting to move, but Seonghwa's arm loosens slightly. His eyes stay closed. Thinking he’s still asleep, you carefully slip away and pad into the kitchen, grabbing your phone.

When you see the caller ID, your stomach twist.

Husband.

You answer anyway, voice low.  "Hey… yeah, I'm gone for the entire weekend..." You lean back against the counter, glancing over your shoulder at the couch. Seonghwa hadn’t moved. "Well, how was I supposed to know that you'd be home? You didn't tell me..." you said, trying to keep your voice neutral. Light.

Seonghwa opens his eyes, sitting up slowly. He rubs his hand over his face once before pushing himself off the couch and walking quietly toward the kitchen where he hear you talking. He stops in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

You don’t see him. You’re facing the counter, head bowed slightly, twirling the hem of your hoodie between your fingers as you talk.

"Alright... yeah... mhm..." Your voice is too polite. Too... detached.

He can tell it’s him.

Your husband.

Of course it is.

Seonghwa’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to be reminded. But he can’t tear himself away from the sight of you, standing there, trying to sound okay.

"Wait, really?" you say, surprise flickering in your tone. Seonghwa’s brow furrows. You give a soft laugh, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"No, I'd love to, I just, yeah..." Another pause. Another sigh. "Alright... okay... have fun... love you..." you say softly, out of habit more than anything else. Seonghwa’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

You hang up and stand there for a second, phone still in your hand, like you need to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you’re startled a little at the sight of him. Your mouth opens, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize, but Seonghwa shakes his head lightly. No need.

You tuck your phone into your hoodie pocket and give him a weak smile. "Husband" you say, voice almost too casual.

He doesn’t move, just tilts his head, waiting.

"He... he called to tell me about the upcoming company dinner," you say. "He wants me to go with him like last year."

For a moment, Seonghwa doesn’t respond. Just blinks at you slowly, processing. You see it, how he didn’t expect that. How it threw him off.

"He does?" he finally says, his voice low, unreadable.

You nod, hugging yourself a little. "Yeah. Guess he forgot to tell me before," you joke, trying to laugh it off. "He said it’ll look good if I’m there."

Seonghwa’s heart twisted.

Look good.

Not because he misses you. Not because he wants to share the evening with you. Because it will look good.

"She’s coming too, I’m imagining" you add, tossing it out like it doesn’t matter that your husband’s girlfriend would be in the same room as you. Like it doesn’t tear something inside you open.

Seonghwa’s jaw ticked.

You hurry to fill the silence. "It’s fine. I mean-, it’s not like I didn’t expect it, right? It's just a dinner. No big deal."

But it is a big deal. And you’re a terrible liar.

You keep rambling. "Honestly, it’s probably good. It might make it easier, or whatever. Seeing them in the same room together, maybe it’ll help me... you know, feel better about everything." Your laugh cracks at the edges. You tuck your hair behind your ear, blinking hard. A moment of silence spread between you, letting you mind do horrible things to you. “Can I ask you a question?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

His voice is soft, warm with understanding. “Always.”

You don’t mean to ask it, but it slips out anyway. “Do they look good together?”

Even Seonghwa seems caught off guard. He doesn’t answer, not with words. But the way his expression falters, the way his eyes search yours… it’s enough.

Regret hits instantly. You let out a dry laugh and shake your head. “Right. Stupid question. You can’t answer that.”

You rub your hand down your face, trying to gather yourself, trying to make it easier by asking again, differently. “Do they… act like a couple at work?”

He hesitates. Thinking. Choosing words that won’t hurt more than they have to.

“Not at first,” he says, his voice measured, careful. “It was… gradual. The kind of closeness people notice but don’t talk about.”

You exhale, eyes closing.

“I didn’t want to assume anything in the beginning,” he continues. “She’s friendly with a lot of people. And I try not to get involved in anything that doesn’t concern work.”

You nod. “But it was obvious.”

He pauses. “Enough that I… thought he might’ve been single.”

Something sinks inside you, cold and heavy.

“No ring. No mention of you. He brought her to a few events at work. I didn’t ask questions.”

You swallow, not sure what hurts more. The confirmation, that he doesn’t wear his ring outside anymore or the fact that it makes sense. Of course he would act single at work. That’s part of his charm.

Seonghwa’s expression is gentle, eyes scanning yours like he’s checking for fractures he can’t see.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t want to upset you. If this is too much-”

“No,” you interrupt, voice thin. “I asked. I want to know. I need to.” You stand in silence for a beat, and then you murmur with a broken smile, “But it’s fine. It’s all fine.”

"You don't have to pretend with me," Seonghwa murmured.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Trying not to let the kindness in his voice shatter you completely.

"I'm fine," you whispered.

Seonghwa watches you from across the kitchen. You’re smiling, but he knows better. He sees the way your shoulders curl inward, the way your eyes won’t quite meet his.

"You’re not," he says, just as soft. "And that’s okay."

You glance up, startled, but before you can form a response, he moves toward you, not fast, not forceful, just steady. His hands find your hips with gentle certainty, and he lifts you with ease, setting you down on the counter as if you’re something precious, not breakable.

"Seonghwa-" you start, breathless.

But he’s already there, grounding you. One hand settles gently on your thigh, the other brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His forehead touches yours, and he just breathes with you for a moment. He stays close but doesn’t move further. His forehead drops lightly to yours, his palms warm against your thighs.

"Look at me," he says, voice low, like he’s scared to spook you. His voice is soft but sure. "I don’t want you pretending you’re fine around me." He leans in. "You feel whatever you need to feel," he murmur, voice thick with emotion, “I’m here. I’ll hold you through it. For as long as it takes.”

Your fingers tremble as they clutch at the fabric of his shirt. Your voice is just a whisper. “I don’t want to fall apart.”

“Then don’t,” he says gently. “Just lean. I’ll catch the rest.”

You make a soft, broken sound before you can stop yourself. He kisses you, slow, deep, devastating. Not just because he wants you. Because he adores you.

He breaks the kiss only to press a featherlight one to your cheek. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth. Each one slower than the last, reverent, like he’s tracing the pieces of you he’s afraid might slip away.

"You want me to take your mind off it?" His mouth brushes just beneath your ear, not suggestive, not rushed, just offering.

You blink at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Only if you want to," he murmurs. "Only if you need it."

You nod before you could second-guess yourself, fingers curling into his shirt.

"I want you," you breathe.

Relief floods his features, softening the tension in his jaw. He kisses you like he had all the time in the world to love every part of you. His hands slide up your sides, mapping you like a man learning his favorite song by heart. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jawline, the shell of your ear, soft, worshipful kisses that leave your skin burning.

"You’re everything," he whispers, pressing his lips to your throat. "You don't even see it, do you?" He kisses a path lower, murmuring against your skin, his hands skimming down your sides to the waistband of your leggings.

He pauses, looking up at you again.

You nod, heart hammering.

Slowly, carefully, he peels them down, helping you kick them away. His palms roams back up your bare thighs, rough and warm.

His fingers trace along the seam of your underwear, teasing the edges, making you squirm. He drags a single finger up the center. Slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of you through the fabric.

"So fucking soft," he mutters under his breath, almost reverent. When he finally eases your panties to the side and slid two fingers through your folds, he curses under his breath. "Fuck," he groans, forehead falling against your shoulder. "You’re gonna ruin me."

He kisses your throat, your collarbone, the dip of your neck, worshiping every inch of you while his fingers find your clit, stroking it slowly and carefully. Drawing circles, light and teasing at first, just to feel you shake.

You whimper, your hips jerking toward his hand, desperate for more.

He smiles against your skin.

"Patience, my love," he whispers. "I wanna savor you." 

A slow, steady glide of his fingers, spreading your wetness, pressing a little deeper. You whimper, hips twitching, and he kisses you again, swallowing every sound like he can’t get enough of you. One finger slides inside you, stretching you deliciously, the heel of his hand rubbing steady against your clit. He moves carefully, gently, but there is a hunger beneath it.

"You have no idea how good you feel," he whispers against your throat, his voice breaking.

Another finger presses in, a little rougher this time, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, and he kisses it, swallowing every sound. He starts a slow rhythm, steady, deliberate thrusts of his fingers, curling just right, dragging sweet friction along your walls. The wet sounds fill the kitchen, obscene and beautiful.

Your head drops back, a soft moan escaping you, and he kisses your throat, licks at your pulse, holding you steady as your body starts to tremble. His fingers work deeper, faster, rougher but never cruel, like he wanted to drag every ounce of pleasure from you, like he needed to prove to you what you deserved.

You whimper, rolling your hips into his hand. He groans low in his throat, as if the pleasure you’re feeling feeds his own.

"That's it," he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheek, your temple. "Take what you need, baby. I’m right here."

He presses his thumb against your clit again, this time firmer, drawing slow, perfect circles as his fingers thrust deeper inside you. Your hands clutches at his shoulders, digging into his muscles, and he lets out a low moan, loving the way you hold onto him.

"That’s it," he says, kissing your ear. "Let go for me, baby. Give it to me."

You can’t hold it anymore. When he angles his fingers just a little differently, brushing against that devastating spot inside you, it breaks you.

Your orgasm builds like a tidal wave, overwhelming and sharp, and when it finally hits, you sob his name, shaking violently against him. He keeps fucking you with his fingers, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body, kissing you desperately the whole time.

"You’re fucking perfect," he whispers between kisses, voice raw with it.

He slowly eases his fingers out of you, kissing you breathless while his hands smoothed up and down your thighs to soothe the tremors. He doesn’t rush it, doesn’t push for anything more.

He just kisses you, adores you, holds you like you were the only thing in his world. "You’re mine here," he murmurs, voice rough, mouth hot against your skin. "Only mine."

The world outside the cabin didn’t exist anymore. No husband. No company dinner. No expectations. Just Seonghwa, tasting you, touching you, worshiping you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

And you can’t get enough of him.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of soft touches and easy laughter. You don’t talk about anything serious, don’t need to. Instead, you lounge together on the couch, stealing lazy kisses. You walk barefoot through the woods behind the cabin, the air fresh and cool, your hand tucked tightly into his. When night falls, you both end up tangled under a blanket by the fire, the room warm and golden, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

Eventually, sleep starts pulling at you.

"Come on," he murmurs against your hair. "Bedtime."

You let him lead you to the bedroom, too tired and too comfortable to protest. You don’t even bother changing, you just collapse onto the bed, pulling the covers up with a small, content sigh. Seonghwa climbs in beside you, and the moment you feel the mattress dip under his weight, you shift closer instinctively, pressing your body against his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin.

He wraps his arms around you tightly (maybe tighter than he should have) but you only sigh again, relaxed and trusting in his hold. And within minutes, you’re asleep.

But Seonghwa isn’t.

He stays awake, eyes tracing the shape of your face in the dim moonlight seeping through the window. You look so soft, so beautiful, your mouth slightly parted, your brow relaxed. You have no idea. No idea what you’re doing to him. How badly he want to freeze this moment, to stay like this forever.

His fingers brush your back slowly, barely there, memorizing the feel of you. He can smell your shampoo, the faint sweetness of your skin.

You aren’t his. You’re married. Tied to a life he can’t touch, no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to steal you away, keep you tucked against him like this, safe and warm, without the weight of your sadness, without the ache of your pretending.

But he can’t.

He isn’t your husband. He isn’t your first choice. Maybe he will never be.

So he just holds you closer, selfishly. Just for tonight.

He whispers your name against your hair, so quietly you can’t hear it. He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger far longer than he should have.

And when his chest tightens painfully with everything he can’t say, he closes his eyes and buries his face in your hair, breathing you in like he can keep a part of you with him, even when you eventually slip away.

Because deep down, Seonghwa already knows: You aren’t his to keep.

But he would love you. Quietly, carefully, hopelessly, for as long as he’s allowed.

***

Real life came back like a wave crashing onto the sand. By Monday morning, the cabin already felt like a dream. Something you both clung to a little too long before the world tugged it from your fingers. There were alarms again. Meetings. Responsibilities. But still, he stayed. In every little way he could.

The following week became a quiet dance of stolen moments. Texts during the day, sometimes silly, sometimes tender. Late-night calls that stretched until one of you fell asleep mid-sentence. A few visits squeezed between everything else, a lunch together, a surprise appearance at your door when you least expected it. You lived in your separate worlds, but threads kept tying you back together, weaving something stronger, even if neither of you dared name it yet.

It’s Thursday afternoon when Seonghwa shows up at your work, two iced coffees in hand. He didn’t tell you he was coming. He just wants to see you.

Standing in the lobby, he catches a sight of you through the glass doors. You’re at the front desk, clipboard in hand, speaking to a group of junior employees. Except you aren’t just speaking. You’re commanding - calm, polite, but firm enough that everyone was standing straighter under your gaze.

"No, the Peterson file needs to be signed by the end of day, not tomorrow," you say firmly to one employee, then turn to another. "And double-check the Johnson numbers. I’m not sending anything out with mistakes." There’s no edge to your voice, just clear, confident authority. You’re the kind of person who expects things to get done right, and people respect you for it.

The group nodded quickly before scurrying off. You look completely in control, completely at ease, and it hits Seonghwa in a way he isn’t prepared for.

He shifts his weight, adjusting the cups in his hands, feeling the low, slow burn start in his stomach. Watching you like this; confident, a little strict, completely unbothered. It made something hot and possessive stir in his chest.

Fuck, he thought, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.

Finally, you notice him. You turn, blinking in surprise before your face lights up in a smile.

You cross the floor towards him, walk through the glass doors, your expression softening in a way that made it even harder for him to stay composed. "You," you say, stopping in front of him, a breathless little laugh escaping, "are not supposed to be here."

"Couldn't help myself," he says, offering you one of the coffees. His fingers brush yours, and it’s ridiculous how much even that made his chest tighten. "You looked like you needed rescuing."

You laugh again, bumping your shoulder lightly into his. "Thanks," you say, sipping your drink with a low, satisfied sigh that just about broke him. "Seriously. Today’s been hell."

He stares at you for a second longer than necessary. "You’re killing it, though. Watching you just now..." He lets the words trail off, his voice dipping a little lower, his eyes dragging down to your mouth before flicking back up. "You’re very…" His voice trails off, then he gives a quiet chuckle. "Efficient."

But the way he says it, the way his jaw tightens just slightly, makes it very clear that isn’t the word he is thinking.

You cock your head innocently. "You okay there?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. "I'm fine. Perfect." Only he doesn’t look perfect at all. 

And you definitely notice.

You sip your coffee, pretending not to see the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long. You smile sweetly. "You sure? You look a little… tense."

His mouth twitches, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. But he only hums low in his throat and says, "Busy morning." His hand tightens around his own cup for a second before he quickly hides it behind a sip.

You turn and walk away, tossing a look over your shoulder like a lure. And sure enough, Seonghwa follows. He catches up to you just as you slip through a doorway into a smaller side room, deserted this time of day.

"You shouldn't," he says, shutting the door behind him.

"Shouldn't what?" you ask, wide-eyed and fake-innocent.

"Shouldn’t look at me like that." His voice is already cracking at the edges, walking slowly towards you with dark eyes. "Shouldn't tempt me when you know exactly what you're doing."

You shrug, looking up at him like he’s speaking nonsense. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." you whisper, all wide eyes and fake innocence. You lean up, slightly tip-toeing to place the softest kiss on his lips, barely even touching him.

You smile against his mouth, slow and deliberate, feeling how tense every muscle in his body is like he’s fighting an invisible war.

“Poor thing,” you whisper teasingly, dragging your fingers lightly up his chest, feeling the way his heart slams against his ribs. “You looked so composed out there. All that self-control…”

Seonghwa lets out a low, broken sound when you roll your hips slowly against him, barely brushing where he’s hardest. His head falls back in agony, but he doesn’t touch you yet. Can’t. If he did, he knows he’d lose it.

“Don’t test me,” he grounds out, voice a low warning, but there’s no real threat behind it. Only desperation.

His breath hitches hard, his hands finally snapping up to catch your wrists and pin them lightly against the wall above your head, firm, not rough. 

His mouth crashes into yours, messy and starving, hands still holding your wrists pinned. Every movement is frantic and tender all at once, like he’s trying to show you what you do to him without crossing the line.

But somehow, he pulls back. Chest heaving. Heart pounding.

"I can't," he whispers, like it physically hurts him. "You deserve better than me losing my mind over you in some office." Seonghwa lets go of your wrists and brushes your hair back, his hands gentle now, lingering, almost reverent.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he whispers, finally pulling back just enough to look at you properly. "I should…" he starts, voice hoarse, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I should get back soon. I have some meetings to prepare for."

You nod, pretending to sip your coffee again, trying to ignore how hard your heart is hammering against your ribs.

“So... the company dinner is on Saturday,” you say, your voice casual, but he could sense the slight tension behind your words. “I guess I’ll see you there.”

His lips quirkes in a soft smile, but his eyes stay gentle. "Yeah, I’ll see you there." He pauses for a moment, letting the silence linger between you two, before he adds, "But, I know it’s not going to be easy for you. I’ll be here, it’s up to you when you need me, yeah?”

You nod, the simple reassurance settling somewhere deep inside. 

“You’ll handle it like you always do,” he says, his voice almost like a promise. “Just…” He pauses, his words weighing a little heavier now. “If you need to talk or vent or even just distract yourself, I’m not going anywhere.”

You can feel the sincerity in his words, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to lean into them, feeling that small spark of comfort. But you also knew that Saturday will come with its own set of challenges, ones neither of you can ignore.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

Seonghwa hesitates before a small smile plays on his lips. “Can’t wait to see you.” He leaves a soft kiss on your lips before you both leave the room.

Seonghwa steps out of the building, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as the cool spring air hits him. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head, but all he can see is the way you looked at him in that small room. The way your eyes darkened, how your lips parted ever so slightly like you were daring him to lose control.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the weekend. Saturday was going to be fucking torture.

Seonghwa steps into the elevator, the cold glass walls reflecting his composed expression as the doors close with a soft chime. As the elevator descends, the doors suddenly open on the floor above, and in walks your husband. 

The man who had promised to love and protect you, who had chosen to disregard you for the company of another woman. Seonghwa’s jaw tightens. 

He could see right through your husband and his intentions. Why he wanted to open up your marriage. Why he convinced you seeing other people was a good idea. He was doing this for no one but himself. He didn’t care about your future together, he just wanted to screw around without feeling guilty.

Your husband’s smile is too wide, a little too confident.

"Mr. Park," your husband says, his smile a little too smug for Seonghwa’s liking. "It’s been a while."

Seonghwa nods curtly, his lips twisting into a polite, controlled smile. "Yes, it has."

The elevator jolts briefly as it continues its descent, and Seonghwa can feel the tension building between them, unspoken but thick in the air. Your husband isn’t aware, of course. He’s too wrapped up in his own world, too comfortable in his position.

"Have you been well lately?" the husband says, his voice slightly offhand but probing. "I haven’t seen you much."

Seonghwa can’t help but smirk. He can’t help but think of the way you call his name so desperately, the way your body responds to his every touch. 

Instead of responding directly to that comment, Seonghwa lets a small, knowing smile flicker across his lips. "I’ve been preoccupied," he says smoothly, his voice low. "Had a lot on my hands."

The elevator jerks slightly, making the conversation shift just a little. 

With a cool smile, Seonghwa turns toward him, his tone dripping with polite curiosity. “So, are you bringing your wife to the company dinner on Saturday?”

Your husband looks at him with a raised brow, clearly not realizing how pointed the question is. “Of course, I think she could use some time out of the house,” He gives a smug little chuckle, clearly feeling proud of himself. “My wife’s always at home,” he repeats like it was some inside joke. “I think I owe her to spend some time with her..”

Seonghwa fights back the grimace forming on his face. The way your husband speaks about you like a joke, a thing to be handled or dealt with. Seonghwa can’t stand it. 

He takes a deep breath, his hands casually resting at his sides as he turns his gaze back toward your husband, locking eyes. “Right,” Seonghwa says, his voice steady, controlled, almost too polite. “I’m sure she’ll be a sight to see.”

As the elevator doors open to Seonghwa’s floor, he takes one last glance at your husband. “I’ll see you at the dinner,” Seonghwa says, his words cold, his expression cool as he steps out.

The husband nods. “See you then, Mr. Park.”

But as the elevator doors closed behind him, Seonghwa’s mind was already back on you. On how you moan his name in the quiet of the cabin, how you came undone beneath his touch. He wonders if your husband has ever been able to make you feel that way.

Seonghwa knew the answer.

***

The ballroom is already alive with chatter and the clink of glasses when you arrive. You hold onto your husband's arm, letting him guide you through the doors, even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.

The room is elegant, bathed in warm lights that bounced off the champagne flutes and silverware. Laughter rises from different corners, easy and polished. You pass on your best smile, falling into the practiced rhythm of it all.

You mingle for a while, polite small talk with your husband's coworkers, nodding along as he introduces you around. It’s almost easy, almost. You let him guide you in, your heels clicking over the marble floors, the soft hum of chatter rising around you like a tide.

You smile easily when necessary, playing your part, his polished, perfect wife. But the second you feel a shift in the air, you know. You don’t have to look to know Seonghwa has arrived.

When you finally let yourself look, there he is. Seonghwa moves through the crowd like he owns it. His black suit is perfectly tailored, the crisp white shirt underneath open just enough at the collar to suggest he isn’t as buttoned-up as he pretends to be. His hair, artfully tousled, is just messy enough to hint at how easily he can come undone.

Your breath stutters. He’s all sharp lines and quiet fire, heartbreakingly beautiful, dangerous in the best way.

You watch him, barely breathing, as he slips through clusters of people, smiling, exchanging greetings. Until his eyes finds yours.

A second, no more. But it’s enough.

Heat licks up your spine.

You look away first, pretending to adjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, willing the blush crawling up your neck to stay hidden. It doesn’t matter. You can still feel him watching you.

You mingle for a few more minutes, caught in some lazy conversation about vacation homes and quarterly reports, when you feel another ripple, closer now. 

Seonghwa is joining your circle.

"Mr. Park!" one of the men says warmly, reaching to clap him on the back. "Glad you made it."

Seonghwa offers a practiced smile, but when his gaze slides briefly to you again, it softens. Just a fraction, before he tucks it away.

Professional. Perfect. Lethal.

Your husband, oblivious, tugs you a little closer against his side, his hand slips familiarly over your hip.

"Babe," he says, smiling, "you remember my boss, Park Seonghwa?"

You turn, offering a smile so polite it feels like a mask. "Of course," you say lightly, extending your hand. "We met at last year’s dinner."

Seonghwa’s fingers close around yours, warm and steady. But his thumb drifts, just barely, over your knuckles. It’s the softest touch, fleeting enough to pass for nothing.

But you feel it. And he knows you do.

"I remember," he says, voice even, with just the faintest undertone that makes something low in your belly tighten. “Nice to see you again.”

He steps back politely, turning to engage someone else in conversation, and you pretend to listen in as well, nodding where appropriate. It’s almost effortless, this performance you’ve both slipped into, two people with nothing in common but a forgettable introduction at a company event. Except for the way your body is suddenly too aware of his presence. The faint scent of his cologne. The way his shoulder moves when he shifts. The tiniest curve of a smile when he senses you glance his way.

You try to be distant. Be in the moment with your husband. View Seonghwa as a polite acquaintance. But your skin tingles. Your body betrays you.

Because when you're alone with Seonghwa, there's nothing careful about him. When it’s just the two of you, he doesn’t look at you like this, distant, indifferent. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists. His hands aren’t steady and restrained; they’re greedy, reverent. When he touches you, it’s with purpose, with heat, with worship. He traces your collarbone with his mouth like it's a map he’s memorized. He drags his lips down your spine like he’s praying. His voice isn't calm then. It's wrecked. Raw. And it’s only for you.

The memory makes your thighs shift, pressing together subtly. You blink yourself back to the moment as he turns away to greet someone else, perfectly composed. A phantom smile plays at his lips like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Then your husband shifts beside you again, dragging you in closer, thumb making small, familiar circles against your hip. Your spine straightens slightly, not from discomfort, but from how sharply aware you are of Seonghwa’s eyes flickering in your direction. Just for a second. Controlled, unreadable. But you know him now, too well, and you catch the subtle set of his jaw, the way his breath comes slower, steadier, like he’s keeping something under control.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react. He nods at the right times, smiles when expected. But there’s something charged beneath his calm exterior. A restraint that hums quietly under every breath you both take.

No one else notices. But you do. And he knows you do.

You barely survived the first ten minutes. And the night had only just begun. 

You and your husband move through the crowd, chatting idly with some of his colleagues. It's polite, surface-level stuff, nothing that makes your heart beat faster. Your eyes keep darting to Seonghwa, who is now across the room, talking to a group of people. But it's your husband who finally draws your attention back to the situation at hand.

His voice breaks through your thoughts, an edge of casualness you don’t quite trust.

“Oh, and this is… well, you probably know her already.” He gestures towards the woman beside him, who flashes a smile that you can’t help but feel is too bright, too rehearsed.

Her. His girlfriend.

Your husband’s words hover in the air, unspoken but clear, as though it’s just a natural thing. "My girlfriend". But he doesn’t need to say it for you to understand. He doesn’t need to make it official when the meaning is already obvious in his tone, the way his hand rests a little too possessively on her lower back.

She’s taller, prettier than you would have imagined, and the first thing you notice is the way she’s looking at him. The adoration, the way her eyes soften. You feel a tug in your chest, a quiet pain that you try to ignore. But it’s there. It’s always there.

She extends a hand, and you take it, forcing a smile. "Nice to meet you." you say.

Her grip is firm. She’s confident. She’s everything your husband seems to want right now.

"Of course. I’ve heard so much about you," she says, the words warm, but the slight edge makes your stomach churn. She looks at your husband with a teasing glint in her eye, but you notice how her gaze flickers toward you, assessing.

As they stand there, chatting, you feel the smallest stir of discomfort in your chest. You want to look away, but you can’t. And maybe you’re just imagining it, but it feels like Seonghwa is watching you from across the room, his eyes fixed on you like he can sense the unease in the air.

Just as you're lost in the tension building between you, a voice calls out from behind. It's one of your husband's colleagues, reminding everyone to take their seats for dinner. As you take your seat, you instinctively glance around, seeking any form of solace in the crowd. And then, your phone buzzes in your bag, breaking through the fog of discomfort in an instant.

You glance down at the screen, your heart skipping a beat when you see the familiar name.

Seonghwa: Are you okay?

The simplicity of his message stirs something in you. Just seeing those words, knowing he's thinking of you, makes the tightness in your chest ease, just for a moment. You take a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest, but you can't help but smile at the message.

You: I'm fine. Just a little distracted.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. There’s a part of you that wishes you could confide more, tell him exactly what’s running through your mind, but you hold back, not wanting to let everything spill out in a text.

Just as you're about to lock your phone and tuck it away, the screen flashes with a new message from him.

Seonghwa: I’m here if you need me. Don’t forget that. ❤️

Seonghwa isn’t placed near you. Of course not. He is several tables over, seated with executives and higher-ups. But you can feel him. God, you can feel him across the room like a second heartbeat.

You catch his eyes once, mid-conversation, and it’s like the air thickens between you. His gaze dips for a split second, dragging over you before lifting again, back to his polished, unreadable facade.

You quickly look away, cheeks burning.

Dinner is served. Conversation at your table buzzing with casual energy: talk about vacations, investment portfolios, harmless gossip about coworkers. Your husband is in his element, laughing too loud, talking to a specific woman close to him and pouring more wine into his glass than he probably should.

Meanwhile, you barely hear a word.

You pick at your food, your appetite gone. Across the room, you feel the weight of his stare.

When you risk another glance, he’s watching you again. His fingers drumming lightly against the side of his glass, a slow, restless rhythm. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip as he listens to the person next to him, eyes still locked on you.

Your husband nudges you, laughing about something you hadn’t caught. You give a small, polite smile, pretending to sip your wine.

The night drags on. Courses are served. Toasts are made. The CEO stands up to make a long speech about company growth, partnership, community, all the usual talking points. You clap when appropriate. You smile when you should. But the only thing you feel is the pull.

The memory of Seonghwa. The way he looks at you across the room like he’s already planning exactly how he’d have you again the moment he can. You toy with the stem of your wineglass, letting yourself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like to slip away from this table, to find him in some quiet corner, to let him catch you.

When dessert was finally cleared and the crowd began to loosen with alcohol and relief, you catch Seonghwa rising from his table, jacket slinging lazily over one shoulder as he excused himself.

He gives you a glance. A very telling glance.

You know. You know he is giving you the chance to follow.

Your heart hammers wildly against your ribs. Your husband is mid-conversation with someone else, not even glancing your way. You set your napkin down on the table, slow and careful, pretending to smooth your dress as you stand.

You move carefully, pretending to head toward the restrooms like you had a dozen other times at events like this. No one pays you any mind. Not even your husband, still busy with a drink in his hand and a story on his lips.

But you aren’t going to the restroom.

You slip through the crowd, heart thudding so hard you can barely hear the noise around you. Your heels click softly against the polished floors as you follow the path Seonghwa has taken. Down a quiet hall. Past the coat closet. Around a corner, where the light dimmed and the buzz of the party fades into the background.

And there he is.

Waiting. Like he knew you would come to him.

He stands with his jacket slung over one shoulder, dress shirt immaculate, tie slightly loosened at the throat like he’s only barely containing himself. But it’s his eyes that stops you.

Dark. Starving. Fixed entirely, absolutely, on you.

God, the way he looks at you.

Like you’re some kind of forbidden miracle.

You can see his throat work as he swallows hard, his hand tightening slightly on the jacket. His gaze trails down your body like he couldn’t help it. From your shining eyes to your lips, to the delicate line of your neck, the curve of your waist in that dress that fit you like a secret made just for him.

“You’re too beautiful,” Seonghwa says under his breath, almost like it hurts him. 

You step closer, heart hammering against your ribs.

"You shouldn't have left," you whisper.

He gives a low, ragged laugh. "And you shouldn't have followed."

Finally talking to him after hours of pretending, after meeting your husband's girlfriend, you finally feet like you can breathe. 

A door clicks somewhere nearby and you’re startled. Seonghwa reacts faster, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the nearest door. The small conference room is empty, dim, quiet except for your heavy breathing. He closes the door behind you both, and you stand frozen in the center of the room, trembling, watching the muscles flex in his jaw.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, voice rough, almost pained.

Slowly, Seonghwa pushes off the door and approaches you, each step measured but strained, like he’s holding himself back with everything he has.

You lifted your chin slightly, daring him. You can feel it, feel the moment his control cracks. One hand reached up, brushing a lock of hair from your face with agonizing care. His fingers trail down the side of your throat, featherlight, barely touching. You shiver.

"You look like this..." His voice broke. "And you expect me to walk away?"

You smile, sweet and dangerous, tilting your head so his fingers could touch more.

It wrecks him.

With a growl low in his chest, Seonghwa cups your face and kisses you, finally. The kiss hungry and aching and furious all at once. Your hands clutch at his shirt, feeling the hard line of his chest beneath. His hips pins you against the conference table behind you, but he still keeps it controlled. Barely.

He kisses down your jaw, the column of your neck, breathing hard.

"Say the word," he rasp into your skin. "Tell me to stop."

You don’t.

You whimper instead and his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you easily onto the heavy table in the center of the room. The second you’re perched on the edge, he stepped between your spread legs, crowding into your space.

You cling to him, kissing him back with just as much desperation. But then you feel it: the thick, heavy press of him against your thigh, straining against his pants. You pull back just enough to look down.

The outline of him is huge and thick and impossibly hard, the shape of his cock straining at the zipper. So tempting it made your mouth go dry. You stare for a heartbeat too long, your breath catching. 

"Sweetheart," he breathes, almost warningly, but you lift your hand before he can stop you and palms him through his pants. Seonghwa chokes on a moan.

"You're so hard," you whisper, in awe. "You always take care of me," you say softly, your hand stroking him slowly, feeling how big, how impossibly hard he is for you. 

"Fuck," he groans, hips jerking slightly into your hand before he catches himself, caging you against the table with his body. "You're going to kill me."

You smile a little, emboldened by how wrecked he sounds, and kiss the side of his head tenderly.

"Let me make you feel good," you murmur against his hairline.

For a moment, it seems like he might resist, like he might be too strong. But then your fingers give a slightly firmer stroke, and Seonghwa whimpers against your throat, a raw, broken sound he can’t hold back.

You slide the zipper down carefully and push his pants down just enough.

Your breath hitches.

Seonghwa is thick, his cock straining hard against the black fabric of his briefs. A wet patch already darkening the front where he’s leaking for you.

You brush your knuckles up the length of him, feeling how hot and real he is under the thin barrier. Seonghwa’s head tips back, his throat working around a broken moan. Emboldened, aching for him, you slide your fingers under the waistband and free him. His cock springs out into your hand. Flushed deep red at the tip, thick veins running down the heavy shaft, already leaking beads of clear precum that drips onto your fingers.

You barely manage to wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick your fingers don’t even meet. Seonghwa curses under his breath, his hips twitching forward into your hand.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "look what you do to me."

You give a shy, wicked smile and stroke him slowly from base to tip, feeling the way he jerks in your palm. So sensitive, so desperate.

But you want more than just to touch him. You shift on the table, spreading your thighs wider.

The wet heat between your legs was unbearable. Your panties completely soaked, sticking to every contour of your cunt, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Slowly, deliberately, you use the head of his cock to brush against your clothed folds. He hiss between his teeth as you guide him, dragging the swollen tip up and down your slit, the slick heat of you soaking through the thin barrier of lace. The contrast of the rough, leaking tip against your swollen clit made you gasp, hips bucking up into him.

Seonghwa's fingers dug into the table, muscles straining, trying so hard not to just lose control and shove into you. 

"You’re so fucking wet," he groan, his voice wrecked. "I can feel it through the fabric. God, you’re ready for me, aren’t you, my love?"

You nod, breathless, rocking your hips forward so his cock slid along the seam of your panties, right over your aching clit. Every pass made your head spin.

And then, without warning, he shifts his hips, pressing the swollen head of his cock right against your entrance.

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders.

He pushes forward just a fraction, just enough to feel the desperate clench of your body trying to pull him in, but the soaked fabric of your panties holds him back, stopping him from sinking inside. It’s so hot, so thick, stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before, and he hasn’t even really entered yet.

"Fuck," he whispers harshly, grinding himself against your entrance with slow, dangerous rolls of his hips. "You’re gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

Your panties stretched taut between you, the thin barrier rubbing against your clit, your folds, trapping the thick heat of him perfectly against your neediest parts.

"You want me to tear these off and fuck you right now, don't you?" he rasp, voice wrecked with restraint. "God, I could just push a little harder, you'd open up for me so easily."

As if to prove it, he gave a slow, brutal grind of his hips, pushing the thick, leaking head of his cock right against your entrance. So firm, so hot, you could feel yourself clenching down around nothing as you moan.

"Feel that?" he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing your skin. "One more inch, baby. One fucking inch, and I'd be inside you. Filling you so deep."

You sob his name, grinding helplessly against him, the rough drag of his cock against your panties and your throbbing clit driving you insane.

Seonghwa chuckles darkly, drunk on the sight of you falling apart for him. "You like teasing yourself with it, don't you? Feel how fucking hard I am for you?"

He rocks his hips again, pressing his entire length against you, up and down, letting the thick vein along his shaft rub right over your most sensitive spot. 

"You're gonna cum just like this, aren't you?" he whispered roughly.

Seonghwa groans, thrusting against you with a little more force, letting the fat tip of his cock push the fabric deep between your folds, rubbing, pressing, teasing your clit. He pressed the tip of his cock against your panties again, and this time, he hooked a finger under the soaked fabric, dragging it aside.

You gasped, because now there was nothing between you.

Seonghwa’s cock slid along your bare, dripping folds, dragging over your clit with slow, devastating precision.

But the angle, the filthy rub of him dragging along your clit, your folds, almost pushing inside. It was dangerous. It would take nothing, nothing, for him to slam forward and bury himself balls-deep inside you.

"God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good," he growled, rubbing the swollen, leaking head of his cock directly against your clit in slow, devastating circles. "I could just, fuck-, I could slide inside you so easy right now. Fill you up so deep you'd feel me for days." 

Your thighs tremble on either side of him. He moves his hips, grinding his cockhead against your clit, dragging it up and down, side to side, filthy and raw.

"You want that, don’t you?" he whispers harshly. "You want me to split you open on this fucking table?"

But you knew you couldn’t let it happen like this. You were already dangerously close to crossing every line. You whimper, grabbing the edge of the table to stay upright, hips bucking helplessly.

"That's it," Seonghwa growles, voice dark and hungry, his cock dragging sloppily against you. "Grind on me, baby. Rub that pretty little pussy on my cock. Fuck, you feel so good."

Your thighs are trembling, muscles locking up as the rough head of him keeps hitting your clit perfectly, again and again, the thick veins of his shaft dragging over your folds, your entrance.

The noises between you are filthy, slick, messy, obscene.

You gasp, trying to pull away, scared to come and make a mess, make too much noice from this room, but Seonghwa grabs your hips and pins you against him, forcing you to take every devastating drag of his cock.

"Don't fucking run from it," he hisses against your ear. "Take it. I want you to come all over my cock, baby."

Your body locked up, and with a strangled moan, you came, hard and messy, soaking him, soaking your panties, soaking the fucking table. You cry out, clenching around nothing, hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm rip through you.

"That's it," he murmur, watching you fall apart. "Good girl. Such a good girl for me." Seonghwa hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching against you.

"You look so fucking beautiful when you cum," he buries his face against your neck, trembling with restraint. You can feel how close he is, his cock throbbing, his breathing ragged, his hips jerking forward in little, helpless thrusts against your slick center.

But then, you feel it.

The wet heat gathering against your panties, dangerously close to making a mess neither of you would be able to explain. Panic flares, but so does something brave, bold, utterly wicked inside you. Before Seonghwa can react, you slide off the table and drop to your knees in front of him.

"Fuck-, baby, what are you-"

He chokes on his words as you wrap your hand around him, guiding his slick, throbbing cock to your mouth. Seonghwa slaps a hand against the table, a broken, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as you close your lips around him.

"Jesus-, fuck," he gasp, his whole body trembling violently.

You look up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks around him, and the sight makes him come undone. With a low, guttural groan, Seonghwa spills into your mouth, hot and salty and desperate. You swallow every drop.

When you finally let him go with a soft pop, Seonghwa stares down at you, eyes black with lust, lips parted, chest heaving. 

Seonghwa watches you straighten up, his gaze flicking to your lips as you wipe them, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. There’s a spark of admiration in his eyes, mixed with something darker that he can’t hide.

“Wow, ” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his voice rough with a hint of surprise. He takes a step closer, his tone softer but no less impressed. “That was… hot.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingers on you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he notices your slightly flushed cheeks, the warmth of the moment still hanging in the air. He could hardly believe how effortlessly you turned everything around, and the look of awe in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

Without saying another word, he cups your face gently, his thumb brushing over your lips as if he can’t resist. His touch is tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened. Slowly, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. The kiss is a promise, an unspoken understanding that this isn’t over, that there’s so much more to explore between the two of you.

As he pulls away just enough to look at you, he whispers, “Thank God for loopholes.” He pulls back, his eyes lingering on you with admiration, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“I’m gonna tell him tomorrow,” You say, finally being ready to tell your husband about you dating Seonghwa, his boss, knowing he’ll be home then. “I’m going to tell my husband about you,” you say, softer now. “About us.”

You don’t say why. You don’t need to. Because you both know why you’ve been holding back saying it, and you both know how desperate you both are to get the truth out.

He nods once. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you admit with a strained smile. “But I don’t want to keep hiding this anymore when he flashes his relationship in front of me,” you look at him through your lashes. “And I don’t want to hold back from you anymore.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something that feels like awe.

Still, the fear bubbles up in you. “What if he reacts badly? What if he says something at work? I don’t want to ruin things for you…” Your voice cracks at the end, and you look away. But he doesn’t let you.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Seonghwa says quietly. “Let him talk. Let him try.”  

You huff a tiny laugh, but your eyes sting.

“I’m serious,” he says, voice gentler. “If he wants to make it ugly, I’ll deal with it. But I’d rather deal with that than watch you shrink yourself to protect me.”

You bite your lip.

“If he suggests you have an open relationship, then he has to understand the consequences of it,” he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair in the most caring manner. “So tell him. Let him know you’re mine now, too.”

Your heart jumps, even though neither of you says what this really means. That he’s not just a fling. That you don’t know how to untangle yourself from what’s happening between you and that maybe… You don’t want to.

“Give me five minutes,” he murmurs, voice low and amused as he glances at the way his tie hangs messily. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

You smile despite everything, still breathless from what just happened, still burning with nerves. You nod and smooth your dress, feeling like something irreversible has just shifted.

As you open the door to leave, his voice stops you again.

“And for the record?” he says, just loud enough for only you to hear. “I’m proud to be the one you’re choosing.”

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx @lveegsoi  @vixensss  @yizhou-time  @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry @hannahstacos @tinyteezer @gold--gucciempress @zhangyi-johee @sunnysidesins @spenceatiny18 @yunhoswrldddd @beljakovina @soso59love-blog @trivia-134340 @skzfangirl143 @spicxbnny @h0rnyp0t @mingimangomu @no-nottoday @roguesthetic @hwas-star @tsuukamori @londonbridges01 @nayutalvr @purplelady85 @lover-ofallthingspretty @awkward-fucking-thing @luvbgy @thuyting @p1ecetinyzen @eumpappasmom @marsofeight @maidens-world @girlblogger-04 @renapersa @lol-imtrash2000 @melitadala

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Imagine Softie!Jason. To everyone else, he's a bit mean and standoffish. But to you, that man is a Simp and a half. Anything you want or need, he gets you. You say a coworker was mean to you at work, they're apologizing the next day. You linger at a shop window looking at a sweater... it's delivered to your apartment by the end of the week. He's being a little mean to someone at a bar and ready to fight, all you have to do is say his name and smile and he backs down. You have a stressful day, that man makes you cum until you beg him to stop and even then 'just one more... you got one more'.

Unf.

Oh, anon, i think you've low key stolen my heart. I love the idea of jay being soft like that<3

Soft! Jason Todd x Reader

Soft! Jason Todd who loves to hold your hand in public, but will always be looking around to make sure no one is too close to you. He might act like it's no big deal, but he's silently watching, ready to jump into action if someone steps out of line. When you hold his hand back, though, he calms down instantly, finding comfort in your touch.

Soft! Jason Todd who insists on carrying all the heavy bags for you, even when you tell him you’re fine. He acts like it’s no big deal, but you can tell he secretly loves being able to do something for you. He’ll always find a way to carry your stuff, whether it's groceries or a backpack, just to make sure you're not burdened.

Soft! Jason Todd who has a habit of brushing your hair out of your face when you're distracted. He’s rough around the edges but, when it comes to you, he’s gentle, as though every touch is an apology for the harsh world he’s lived in. He’ll do it casually, but there's a softness in his eyes when you catch him.

Soft! Jason Todd who would rather risk a fight with anyone who disrespects you than let you deal with any kind of discomfort. He may look like he’s trying to start something, but the second you look at him with a calm expression, he shuts down, knowing you're the one who can stop his rage. His love for you is his anchor.

Soft! Jason Todd who hates seeing you upset. He’ll try to hide his concern under a facade of indifference, but if you’re upset for too long, he becomes clingy. He’ll either silently pull you into his arms or buy you your favorite food in an attempt to make things better, even if he doesn't know the words.

Soft! Jason Todd who’s always watching your back. No matter where you are, he’s like a shadow, always making sure you’re safe. He’ll act tough, but the minute you say, “I’m fine, Jason, stop worrying,” he’s immediately soft and obedient, stepping back but never really leaving.

Soft! Jason Todd who’s surprisingly shy when it comes to complimenting you. He’ll say something like “You're looking good” in that adorable, gruff tone and look away, but his cheeks betray him with a faint blush. He’ll never admit it, but he can’t stop stealing glances at you when you’re not looking.

Soft! Jason Todd who doesn’t mind if you steal his hoodie. In fact, he loves it when you wear it, and he’ll sneak little glances at you, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face. It’s his subtle way of showing you how much you mean to him without saying a word.

Soft! Jason Todd who likes to surprise you with little gestures of affection. He might leave your favorite snack on your bed or clean up your space when you’re too busy. He doesn't expect recognition, but seeing your smile is more than enough for him.

Soft! Jason Todd who gets worried about you when you're out in public, even if you can take care of yourself. He'll scan the room like a hawk, looking for any potential threat, even if it’s just a crowded store. The second you notice and smile at him, he relaxes, his jaw unclenching.

Soft! Jason Todd who never really shows it, but he loves being the one you rely on. When you need something, whether it’s help with a problem or simply a listening ear, he’ll be there without question. His protective nature is fueled by his deep love for you, even if he doesn’t always express it directly.

Soft! Jason Todd who secretly loves the thought of having you around, even when he's pushing you away. He might act like he’s fine being on his own, but he’ll subtly make sure you’re still close. He’ll start with something like, "You don’t have to stay here," but as soon as you do, his demeanor softens and he’ll quietly be grateful.

Soft! Jason Todd who doesn’t let anyone else touch you without a heavy dose of protectiveness. He may be joking around one moment, but if another guy even looks at you the wrong way, he becomes serious, standing in between you and the person. You can count on him to take care of anything that threatens your space, whether physical or emotional.

Soft! Jason Todd who sometimes gets lost in the little things. Whether it’s the way you laugh or the warmth of your hand in his, he takes note of every detail that makes you, you. Even though he won’t say it out loud, he’s always thinking about how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Soft! Jason Todd who can’t help but stare at you when you're concentrating or absorbed in something. He loves how you get lost in what you're doing, and he admires your focus. His gaze is intense, but he’ll play it cool when you catch him, pretending he wasn’t watching but secretly smirking to himself.

Soft! Jason Todd who turns into a grumpy mess when he sees you in distress. Whether you're upset over something small or big, he’s all action, immediately trying to fix whatever's wrong. He may act like he doesn’t want to talk about feelings, but he’ll listen to yours until the issue is resolved.

Soft! Jason Todd who loves to cuddle with you when you're both home after a long day. He’ll pull you close, acting like he's just tired, but secretly, it’s the only time he feels at peace. When you trace your fingers through his hair, he’ll relax completely and maybe even drift off to sleep.

Soft! Jason Todd who can't help the way his hands begin to wander to massage the fat and muscle of your inner thighs. His thick fingers tend to wander beneath your shirt before snaking under the waistband of your pants to gently dig them into your skin.

Soft! Jason Todd who still acts completely normal as he does so, his eyes still focused on the TV on the wall at the foot of your bed. If you knew any better, you'd think that he didn't even notice how bold his touches had grown. This has happened a few too many times for you not to know better, but no efforts were made to stop him.

Soft! Jason Todd who, before you know it, is rubbing slow, languid circles on your clit through your panties. The friction is almost frustratingly slow, but after the shitty day that you've just experienced, you were thankful for any kind of distraction. You swear you almost let out a whimper just from his calloused fingertips brushing under the elastic of your underwear.

Soft! Jason Todd who takes everything as slow as possible, no matter what responsibilities he may have to deal with later on in the night. He knows that your day was less than ideal, but something about you all frazzled just gets him going. Plus, he knows for a fact that he can pull more orgasms out of you when you're so high-strung.

Soft! Jason Todd who doesn't even trail your panties down your legs and past your knees until you've cum on his fingers once or twice. As much as Jason loves to tease, he knows how uncomfortable your sticky, wet panties must be against your puffy and needy pussy.

Soft! Jason Todd who's kneeling on the ground between your plush thighs before you can even blink, his large hands holding onto your hips as if he'll drown when he lets go. His lips are much slower on your skin, however, as they trail light kisses up your thighs and leave small nips along the way.

Soft! Jason Todd who doesn't adjust his pace as you whine and beg, no matter how much you try to persuade him. Every little complaint you let out about him going too slow earns you a light slap to the side. "Jay, baby... Please. I've already had such a long day-" 'smack!' "Quit your yapping, doll face. You can be a good girl and wait."

Soft! Jason Todd who absolutely devours your weeping pussy once his tongue makes contact with your dripping folds. His muscle leaves absolutely no bit of skin untouched as he gives your pulsing clit a little suck every once in a while. He couldn't hold back his smirk when he looked up to see your eyes rolled back in utter ecstasy.

Soft! Jason Todd who's pace stays relentless, even as your fingers are tugging at his black and white locks. "Oh fuck... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The curses fall from your lips like a mantra as you tug on his head, unsure of whether you want to greedily pull him closer or push him away to avoid thr overstimulation that's bound to happen. "Quit pulling me away, ma." He mutters into your cunt, spitting on your already dripping folds as he worships you like a piece of art. "You had 'such a bad day,' right? You were just begging for me to touch this pussy. Let me do my job."

Soft! Jason Todd who ends up betwen your quivering thighs for hours on end, greedily licking up every single drop of your endless orgasms that seem to be ripping through you every few minutes. His strong nose is constantly bumping against your overstimulated clit. You're pretty sure that you've cum from that little of contact alone, at this point.

Soft! Jason Todd who literally has to be torn away from your weeping folds as your eyes water from how much you're feeling. Your glassy eyes are just so beautiful as you look down at him with sore fingers tangled into his hair. "Come on, baby..." He coos, pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh as if he hasn't been pleasuring you for the majority of the evening. "You can handle one more. I know this pretty pussy can handle one more for me."

Soft! Jason Todd who ends up making you squirt on his tongue three more times before he finally stops with a kiss to your achy, puffy clit. As always, he makes sure that you get a taste of yourself on his lips as he kisses you until your tears eventually slow to a stop.

Soft! Jason Todd who doesn't even get himself off on nights like this. The only time he allows himself to orgasm when you're upset is if he ruts himself into the side of the couch or if you want to take out some frustration by gagging on his large, thick cock.

Soft! Jason Todd who carries you to bed and wipes you off with the utmost care after overstimulation like this. Every single hickey he's left on your thighs gets kissed and every drop of your fluid mixed with his spit is carefully wiped away with a cool cloth. He makes sure that only the lighter blankets and comforters are left on the bed so that you don't get too hot as you try to come down from your endless highs of the night.

Soft! Jason Todd who is whispering praises into your hair until you fall asleep, one of his hands holding yours with entwined fingers and the other running soothing circles along your back. "You did so good for me, beautiful..." His voice is nothing more than a mumble amongst the ambience of Gotham City outside of his apartment. "I knew you had it in you, baby. I've got you now... No more stress for today. It's all over."

Masterlist

[victorbutnotreally]

hi :D 

i was thinking of minho. yk, as you do, and then i thought of him with a much bigger partner. like, big strong man with big hands. would absolutely love a spoonful of feminization added to the mix. yes, i was thinking nsfw, but if you want to do sfw, that's fine too. have a wonderful morning/night/ whatever, pretty. ily <3

A/N: love this!! ilyt, have an amazing time <3

warnings: size kink, a whole nsfw section, manhandling, choking, sex on the kitchen counter, fingering,

sfw

we gotta start with cuddles. this adorable baby will cling to your big frame like a whole monkey. minho's the little spoon because you are just a human heater. 

you make him feel so smol and safe

he seizes every opportunity to sit on your lap. argue with the wall.

when it was revealed that he was dating someone, but he didn't want to reveal who exactly it was, he'd take a selfie with you standing behind him but since you're both standing straight, it's just his face and your chest. 

and then the comments flood in.

"Damn he's big" "Which manhwa did you grab him from" "oh i didn't know you were dating the empire state building"

would definitely correct your posture. dancer shit lol

you would have enough space on your body for Minho and all three of his cats to lay on you :(((

would tease you about your height for sure, constantly calling you the names of random tall buildings or the classic "how's the weather up there?"

loves to bury his head in your chest. he just loves your tits heart.

literally cannot hold your hand with just one of his hands. too big.

you always walk by his side at airports and other crowded places. you'd have an arm around his waist and he feels so safe with you🥺

loves to trace the veins on your forearm or neck when you're both alone and doing nothing, or cuddling.

loves back hugs where you just engulf him with your big body.

always wears your clothes. your shirt, sweater, hoodie.. they're so fucking big on him and he loves it.

loves to sleep on top of you or just cuddled up so close to you, as if he's trying to melt into your body

would love to be called princess as you're spoiling tf out of him

he loves how you can effortlessly lift him up

nsfw

speaking of lifting him up, the manhandling in the bedroom is definitely something he loves.

he'd feel so safe even as you're tossing him around like a ragdoll

he LOVES it when you pin both of his wrists above his head with just one hand.

and of course, nothing about you is small. the bulge in his belly when you're inside him? sends him fucking reeling. and when you press down on it, he lets out the prettiest noises.

I feel like he'd love sex on the kitchen counter? like he'd be cooking up a storm (a piece of cake) and you'd have him bent over the counter afterwards just fucking him so good.

he loves seeing your hand on his thigh. it could be outside of sex, but during sex, when you throw one of his legs over your shoulder and hold his thigh?? your hands look big even on his big thighs and it's so fucking hot to him

would love choking, especially seeing how big your hands look around his slender neck.

do I even have to talk about fingering him with your long fingers? they'd reach so deep, they'd reach everywhere.

he loves ALL your veins. the veins on your dick has him drooling and he'd feel it in him when you're fucking him

[aisiedaisie]

Helllllo!! Could you maybe do a wolfstar x reader (or anyone if you don’t do that :))) with a reader who lovesssss makeup and has like a big collection and spends a bunch of money on it and maybe the boys being super intrigued or confused by it? <3

Hello hello~!!! Thank you for this amazing idea! I wasn’t sure if you were asking for romantic or platonic wolfstar but I may have gone the romantic route. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, it seems I am utterly incapable of writing short stories... Hopefully you don't mind!

Poly! Wolfstar x Fem!Reader WC: 2k

You breathe out, the exhale a soft puff that lingers in the chilly air. Your fingers run through your hair, frustration creeping up your spine.

It's a mess—which wasn’t new for days like this. The winter winds have stolen every ounce of moisture, leaving your strands dry and unruly. The static makes each strand stand on end, refusing to fall into place as you try to tame them with a bit of leave-in conditioner.

But today, of all days, it needs to cooperate.

You glance in the mirror, taking in your reflection. This is the first time you're hosting date night at your place, and after hours of prepping dinner, tidying up every inch of the apartment, your hair had become the least cooperative part of the evening. You sigh, trying to smooth the mess down, but it feels hopeless.

A light knock on the door pulls your attention away, snapping you out of your frustration. Your heart gives a flutter, and you take a moment to steady your nerves. The knocking continues, a little more insistent, and you curse under your breath as you give your reflection one last look. Your cream knit sweater and well-worn jeans are fine—fine—but not exactly what you'd imagined wearing on such a special evening. It’s casual, maybe too much so, but you tell yourself to let it go. You smooth down the hem and force a shy smile.

The door creaks open, and you greet them with a soft, sweet "Hey." Your voice betrays a touch of nerves, but you stand tall, holding the door wide open as you invite them inside.

Remus and Sirius stand frozen in the hallway just outside your door, their eyes taking in your appearance with an intensity that makes you feel as though they're seeing straight through you. A soft smile spreads across Remus’s face, while Sirius’s lips curl into a wolfish grin. They both seem to sense the knot of anxiety in your chest, reading it effortlessly, as if it was as obvious as the frazzled mess of your hair.

"Hey, dove, you okay there?" Remus asks, his voice a gentle murmur as he bends down, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of your head. The sudden contact sends a spark of calm through you, though the tightness in your stomach doesn’t quite fade.

"Yeah, you look a bit nervous," Sirius adds, his tone teasing yet soft. His lips brush your cheek in a quick kiss as he steps past you into the flat, his eyes flicking over the space, taking in the cozy chaos of your preparations.

The living room, while small, is filled with the soft charm of the season. A few scattered holiday decorations dot the space—pine cones nestled in a crystal dish on the dark wood coffee table, their spiced scent mingling with the candles burning nearby. The flickering lights cast a warm glow across the room, the air thick with the comforting scent of mulled cider and cinnamon, drifting lazily from the kitchen.

They’ve been here before, of course. They’ve picked you up for dates, lingered in the living room while you finished getting ready. But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, they’re not just picking you up. They’re settling in, staying awhile, and something in the atmosphere shifts. The space feels fuller, more alive somehow, even with the quiet tension you’re trying so hard to hide.

"Come on in, make yourselves at home," you say, your voice a little steadier now, though still laced with uncertainty. You close the door behind them, your fingers brushing along the handle as you take their coats and drape them over the back of the couch. It’s a small gesture, but it feels grounding, giving you something to focus on.

You lead them into the dining room, where the table is set in preparation for dinner. White tealights glow softly, casting delicate shadows on the polished surface. Your nice dinner plates gleam under the candlelight, silverware set just so, ready to be used. It’s a simple, intimate setup, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s enough.

Remus pauses in the center of the room, scanning the flat before turning back to you with a gentle smile. “Do you mind if I use the restroom, love?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement as he looks around the space, searching for the door.

You smile softly, pointing down the hallway. "It’s the second door on the left," you say, your voice light.

Remus nods with a grateful look before darting down the hallway, eager to relieve himself. Sirius watches him go with a shake of his head, chuckling under his breath. "He’s had to pee since we got to your street," Sirius says, his tone laced with affection and amusement.

You can’t help but laugh, your fingers busying themselves with pouring warm cider into mugs. 

That’s when you hear Remus’s voice, sharp and full of surprise. "What the hell?"

A rush of concern flutters through you, catching your breath. You freeze, the warm cider sloshing in the cup you hold, spilling a few droplets as you try to make sense of his exclamation. What did I forget? Was it your hairbrush on the counter again? No... you made sure it was put away. You rack your brain for a moment, but nothing stands out.

Sirius, ever the quick one, is already walking down the hall, following the sound of Remus’s voice. You move to follow, two steps behind him, a strange tightness settling in your chest.

You watch as they reach the second door on the right, and your eyes widen.

Sirius peeks in first, curiosity piqued, and his voice rings out with a hint of amusement. "Moons?" he asks, stepping into the space. He tilts his head to look around, his gaze landing on the long white vanity in front of them. Your heart skips a beat as you catch up, now standing in the doorway just behind them.

The vanity stretches out before you, gleaming under the soft light. Clear storage cabinets line the sides of the mirror, each one filled to the brim with various cosmetics: lipsticks in shades you can’t even name, neatly arranged bottles of foundation, and an assortment of brushes that you’d long since given up organizing. Your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and mild surprise, realizing they’ve stumbled upon your private little collection.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while Remus stands there, his expression somewhere between shock and genuine curiosity. The air between the three of you crackles with unspoken words as you stand in the doorway, feeling every bit of their gaze on the cluttered, yet carefully curated, space.

Your lips press together as you try to formulate an explanation, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. What can I possibly say now that they've seen all of this? You stand there, torn between embarrassment and amusement, watching the two of them as they take in the sight of your beauty room.

“Holy shit, love, I knew you liked makeup, but I didn’t think you liked it this much,” Sirius says, his tone an odd mix of shock and awe. He steps closer, eyes roving over the meticulously organized rows of products. Beside him, Remus examines the array with a look of sheer bewilderment.

“You... you actually use all of this?” he asks, gesturing to the overflowing drawers, as if struggling to comprehend.

You nod shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Not all at once, of course, but... yeah.” You glance over at them, hoping they’re not overwhelmed.

Sirius reaches out, his eyes lighting up as he picks up a familiar tube. “This is the lipstick I bought you for Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, a fond smile spreading across his face. He turns the deep red Gucci lipstick in his fingers, the one he’d surprised you with on that special day. It’s a brand you’d never splurge on for yourself, and the fact that he remembers only softens the moment.

Remus clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Alright, hang on—I really need to pee, but we are so talking about this when I get back.” He gives you a quick, reassuring smile before dashing out of the room, leaving you alone with Sirius, who is still absorbing the scope of your collection.

Noticing your discomfort, Sirius settles himself into the plush chair in front of your vanity mirror. He catches your eye in the reflection, a mischievous gleam brightening his gaze. “Love, can you do my makeup?” His grey eyes lock with yours, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“What do you want, Siri?” you ask, moving to stand behind him, your hands instinctively finding their way into his dark, unruly curls. His eyes flutter shut as he leans back into your touch, a low groan escaping his lips.

“Reggie’s been wearing eyeliner lately, and it actually looks pretty cool. Can you do that for me?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed, totally at ease.

A sweet hum escapes you as you think it over. “Are we talking waterline or a wing?” you ask, fingers combing gently through his hair.

“Which one’s easier?” he asks, eyes cracking open to meet yours, genuine curiosity lighting his face.

“For you? Probably a wing,” you explain with a smile, reaching over his shoulder to grab your favorite liquid liner. “Putting it in your waterline can get uncomfortable. I’ll go easy on you.”

He chuckles, a small smirk forming as he settles in, clearly ready for whatever you’re about to do.

Remus steps back into the room, his hands settling on your hips with an easy familiarity. You feel his warmth as you focus, steadying the felt-tip pen and carefully flicking it to form the perfect wing at the corner of Sirius’s closed eyes.

“And what exactly are you two up to?” he asks, voice laced with fond amusement. His hazel eyes shine with a soft curiosity, watching as you carefully hover over Sirius.

You glance up, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Just spreading my love of makeup,” you quip, your voice light with humor.

At that, Sirius opens his eyes slowly, catching sight of himself in the vanity mirror. The sharp lines of the eyeliner bring a new edge to his look, making his grey eyes look strikingly intense. A small, satisfied grin spreads across his face as he takes in the transformation. “Damn—I look good.”

“When don’t you look good?” Remus laughs, shaking his head as he leans in closer. There’s a warmth in his gaze, a kind of love that makes the room feel cozier.

You smile, leaning across Sirius once more to reach for your favorite lip oil. Without a second thought, you swipe it across your lips, the slight sheen catching the light before you turn, tiptoeing to press a soft, lingering kiss to Remus’s lips. He blinks in surprise, feeling the film of oil on his lips, and a bashful smile spreads across your face.

“There. Now you’re dolled up too,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Remus’s cheeks flush, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “Lucky me,” he replies, squeezing your hips gently.

You dart your gaze away, the warmth of the moment lingering as your eyes catch the soft glow of the digital clock on the corner of your vanity. The numbers blink back at you, a gentle reminder of time ticking by.

With a small sigh, you reluctantly shake yourself out of the cozy, dreamlike bubble surrounding the three of you. “We should head back out. I’ve got dinner in the oven.”

Sirius groans dramatically but rises from the chair, throwing you an affectionate look as he reaches out to link his arm with yours. Remus follows, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, the three of you moving back into the warmth of the dining room, surrounded by candlelight and the smell of cider that fills the air like a promise of a perfect evening ahead.

[pierroettie]

TWEWY SWAP AU 4/4

SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT they are finally here !!

click to read more !!!!

it's been too long since I've written the last post I lowkey forgot what I'm doing

Beat Bito (swapped with Shiki)

Beat's entry fee- Rhyme's memory of him- is still the same, but Rhyme is no longer a player. Beat would be a lot more upbeat (no pun intended) since Rhyme is still alive. But under that, Beat would struggle with motivation. Dying after an outburst with his family, and dying alone this time, no longer would Beat have the drive to get through the reaper's game to save Rhyme, since she's perfectly fine. I don't think Beat would be depressed enough to the point of being suicidal and giving up completely, but I do think he'd struggle with knowing what he wants and what his goal even is in the first place. Beat would struggle with more self deprecation but swallow it down, and at the end of week one he'd be able to come to terms with himself and move forward.

Beat would encounter Rhyme in the rg, acting as if she didn't just have her brother up and die. He'd get pretty worked up about it before realizing that her memories are gone. Rhyme would feel as though some huge piece of her was missing. After seeing her express this, Beat would collect the courage to beat the game and repair his relationship with his sister.

Beat and Joshua would be reluctant partners who eventually warm up to each other throughout the week. They're like street smarts and book smarts duo. This au doesn't have any specific ships in it though I will say beatjosh may have been my inspiration for making this in the first place lol... but I also just liked the idea of exploring different character dynamics. I don't think Josh can escape the priss kid nickname regardless of what universe he's in.

Design Notes:

For Beat, if you squint you'll see he's wearing like 3 layers but they're all sleeveless lol. I added some pins on his vest as a reference to Shikis design. I gave him pants and changes his shoes a little. Most of my design work for him was purely cosmetic and not for any particular reason.

For Rhyme, the art may look a little off model but she didn't have any forward facing sprites for me to base her off of but shhhhh it's fine. I have her wearing a school uniform with her iconic necklace & beanie since I think it makes most sense for the scenes for her in the rg to be with friends after school. Her cardigan is a duller version of her original sweater's color just so she still looks like herself. The cardigan is also similarly structured to the jacket I gave Beat.

-

That's it for the initial posts! I'm of course planning on making some more content and I'll make another post covering the rest of the swaps for all the reaper's and other background characters so look out for that !! thank you all so much for the support so far!!! love you alll.....

[ysrjune]

Could you write a Christmas shopping with either Scott Barringer or Sam monroe? <3

like this? 🎄

a/n: sorry for all the #hashtags in the actual writing I was feeling different #haha. sorry this is lowkey corny it just makes sense to make 16 year olds awkward and corny like this 😔

"oh, these are cute!" you say while looking at a dark green christmas sweater. Scott wasnt really paying attention, he was mostly just there to pay for your things. "Mhm," he hummed, zoning out on his barley visible reflection in the glass window. "You could atleast pretend to be more interested." she rolls her eyes and moves around him to look at more things. he followed you, picking at his fingers. "this store is for grandmas, why do you wanna shop here?" he says with a hint of disgust. "my mom used to shop here all the time when I was a kid. not everything in here is for grandmas." Scott responds with a small noise and looks at all the christmas themed pillows on the racks.

"you know what we should do? we should take those awkward christmas photos at macys." you smile up at him while he felt a fluffy pillow. he looks down at you with an annoyed looking face (which was really just his resting face) "wouldn't do it for a million bucks." he looks back at the pillow. "someone's being a grinch." you cross your arms and soon enough, he socked you in the shoulder. not too hard, but hard enough for it to hurt. "you're annoying, just pick something out already. I dont wanna be in this store." He whines, holding your hand and walking around.

Scott was not your boyfriend, and he made that clear.. well, in your mind, he did. you were just clueless that he sort of liked you. everyone just assumes that you two are bestfriends (you are.)

It took 15 more minutes for you to find something at the "granny store." It was a small little porcelain penguin trinket that was wearing a santa hat and holding a gift. the next store you dragged Scott into was a clothing shop. your parents invited him over for christmas under one condition from your mom: he wears christmas pants like everyone else would. "these are all boring." you tell him, going through all the plad jammies. "oh look! theres this one!" you take them off the rack and turn to scott to show him, to which he scrunches his nose at. "im not wearing that."

"but they're cute!" grinch themed pj bottoms. "theyre horrible. disgusting. ugly. stupid. hideo—" "OKAY I get it! jeez!" you put them back and go searching for more. He looked around by himself for a little while and actually came back with something. "I like these." he shows you gingerbread pjs. "oh my gosh! these are so cu-" "dont ruin it for me." he holds his finger to your mouth to shush you. "but-" "SHHHH. Silence." He hangs the pjs on his arm and throws his other arm over your shoulder. "come on, lets go."

At the christmas party, he was all smiles and super cheery. he was currently making a gingerbread house with your little sister. "that color is ugly, though." he tells your sister as she glued the walls together with yellow frosting. "i dont care, scott. this is MY gingerbread house, not yours!" he smiles and ends up tackling her on the couch, tickling her. your sister was like 13, and obviously had a crush on Scott, but it was clear it was just an innocent crush. #girlhood

later, you took a bunch of photos with and of him. he wore a santa hat in every photo since you messed up his hair earlier while playing around. you were happy because in most photos, he was smiling. scott has such a great smile, but he doesnt believe it. "why do you look so mad in this?" you show him. his arms were crossed, legs spread as he sat on the couch. the tail of his hat on the right side of his face, sort of hiding it. "I was being nonchalant and mysterious. what if you decide to share those and the fine ladies dont wanna lay me?" he says like it was a normal thing to say. "nobody was gonna lay you anyway." you roll your eyes. he tackled you after that.

around 10, his dad wanted him home. his house was right down the street, so you walked him #womeninmalefields #goated. "I had fun tonight, barry!" you smile. he fucking hates it when you call him barry, but he cant do anything about it because he knows you'll only continue. "me too, skank." he playfully nudges your shoulder. he doesnt think you're a skank, he just calls you it because you call him barry. "I'll see you around, I gotta go inside." he says, opening the door. "wait," you turn him around. ".. crouch down a little." he gives you a weird look but does what you ask. then you #kissed him since there was mistle toe right above the door.

scott didnt pull away, he actually pulled you in and went a little #crazy. he used a little bit of tongue ew teenage boys ugh but it was #lowkeyhot so you #letithappen. he pulls away and smiles a little bit. "best christmas gift ever." he says and you shove him at the door. "dont get used to it." you smile back. scott laughs and opens the door behind him, still facing you. "see you 'round, skank." he tells you, sarcastically blowing a kiss and going in the house.

@erosmutt @d0llfilth @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @literally-izzy @mx1curriee505 @valloos

[sweetiebugwrites]

Chocolate Cigarettes || Remus Lupin x Reader

Fandom:  Marauders era, Harry Potter

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word Count: 901

Notes: First fic posted! Please lemme know thoughts and feedback if you’d like. <3 

Warnings: Smoking, light touches/kisses, none others known.

Summary:  A quiet moment between Remus and his love.

It wasn’t often that Y/N got distracted.  Okay fine, that was completely untrue. But the culprit more often than not, was Remus Lupin himself. Especially while his lanky form was sprawled on his bed, head lolled to the side, lazily touching a cigarette to his lips before his chest grew as he inhaled the sharp smoke. She was perched onto his lap, his free hand kneading Y/N’s hip, nearly covering it in entirety as it kept her firmly overtop him. They hadn’t spoken in a decent moment, though she supposes they didn’t have to.  It wasn’t uncommon for Remus to get moody on a good week, let alone one that brought a full moon. Y/N simply settled for watching her boyfriend with unashamed adoration. 

“ Thinking of Wonderland?” The Welsh tinge on his tongue, paired with sarcasm, however sweet, was dripping from his tone, successfully snapping her from her wandering thoughts. Remus’ hazel eyes pierce through Y/N as he watches her. A cheesy grin pulls at his lips, unable to hide the amusement at his girlfriend. 

“I can’t believe you’ve done that.” Y/N chokes out, swiping the contaminated air away from her so she can regain herself. “ And no.” She weakly defends herself. Y/N adjusts in his lap, legs remaining on either side of Remus. The thick comforter was soft against her from years wear. She keeps one hand flush to his chest for support, the other going to Remus’ messy bed head, the sandy brown locks tangling in her fingers when she gives a mocking tug. “I was thinking of you, ya know.” she scoffs when he rolls his eyes.

“ Are you terrified yet?” He retorts, words slurring as he deflects against the comment. His gaze falls briefly as he flicks the ash off the cig and drops the butt into a poorly handmade ashtray; a gift from Y/N from last summer.

Another sharp tug from his hair has Remus hissing, causing a daring look to cover his features. Bringing his free hand up to her other hip, he squeezes, before traveling further only to play with the hem of the large gold and crimson sweater.

 “ Believe me or dont. But I quite like your grotesque features.” She slowly traces up his neck, following his jaw, her touch fading only momentary as it reached over old scars. She traces over each flaw. Y/N takes a moment to memorize the moment.

“You’re doing it again, yeah?” Remus easily lets her do what she wants. He expects a kiss, dare he thinks, deserves one as she acts like they're in some sacred place together. He waits a moment longer, her eyes like a doe while she holds him so carefully.

“ I won’t kiss you after you smoke, you know that. Even if you always look like you're waiting for a snog.” She taunts him, bumping noses. Even if she does love the residual smell of smoke on old sweaters, or when he leans down to whisper sweet nothings after a drag or two. Y/N briefly parts her lips as she thinks of a witty remark.

Remus grinned, cocky and crooked. “That’s ‘cause I am.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. She tilted up, and their kiss was quiet—brief, breathy, maybe a little off-center. When she pulled back, his lips chased hers like he wasn’t done.

“You taste like smoke.” Y/N murmured.

“You taste like trouble.” His retort was quick. For a moment, it was just them. No marauders, no invasive ghosts or inquisitive classmates.

Remus tilted his head, only slightly, and their lips met yet again. His nose bumped against hers. Smiling at her with heavy eyes as they break apart. Her fingers were still tightly curled around the hairs at the base of his neck. They pulled apart with a breathless laugh, foreheads touching.

“Evil,” she whispered, eyes trailing over him.

“Cheeky.” He murmured back, cheeks warm. But then, he felt it—her heartbeat was steady and warm, so different from the restless rhythm that was always just beneath his skin this close to the full moon. 

Y/N watches the faint moonlight filter through the curtains of his dorm.“Are you nervous?” she asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. She knew she was. She always wondered what Remus would think, she knew how his body language would change, temperament definitely did.

He chuckled, the sound deep and low. “I’m always nervous. About the waiting,” Remus said, dropping his hand to tap a finger against her knee, his other still cradling her face. He leaned in, kissing the top of her head. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see. But... I’ll always come back to you.” 

Y/N brought Remus to a tight hug. Resting her cheek to his chest before pressing a soft kiss to the available skin. “ I'll be waiting for you, when you do.” She whispered.

"I know." He murmured, pulling her close, letting the warmth of her embrace drown out the ache of the change that was coming.

Remus was happy with that.

[fitgirlfemdom]

The story you made about the pathetic NEET gooner who let himself go is literally me.

It did start small. I was coming off of a high in regards to everything, super promising schooling and I made it into a fairly prestigious lab in college where I still work. But from freshman to senior year, while my schoolwork has been fine, I’ve pretty much watched myself fall from extremely sociable, charming all the way to monstrous fatty sneaking out of my dorm room (which is more of a league of legends/weed/feedist porn dungeon) to pick up my 3rd ubereats of the night while girls look at me judgingly.

And literally the best part is that I glance back up at them, wearing my oversized sweater that’s getting tighter and tighter, and I can’t help but feel so good. It’s amazing when I get into the elevator with rowdy college girls and all they have to make conversation with me is the fact that I’m holding a bag that obviously contains a shit ton of fast food.

I have, seldomly, gotten into the elevator at my dorm with fat girls who appear to be in my boat with regards to overeating ubereats. When that happens, it’s like two people who desperately want out but understand that each other poses no harm in judgment.

In this way, I’ve gained around 90 pounds in 3 years (most of it was in 1 year, so I could easily push it to 150 pounds overall), making me 5’6, 220 pounds.

I have also dabbled in the whole cock rating fetish. I once requested a rating from a super muscular Onlyfans acc where I gave a before pic (for physique) and an after pic.. The next few nights, I downed so much heavy cream and melted ice cream that I had to call off work.

I love the Berserk theme btw. Farnese is by far my fav character.

Oh yeah I love Farnese too! Such a great personality :D

I also wouldn't consider you a NEET, judging by how you're literally in college and that cancels out the first two letters. I see a lot of people, especially on tiktok and twitter, conflating "NEET" with "terminally online nerd." For fetish purposes, though, they look the same, and smell the same, so I guess I can let it slide.

a little bit of rambling:

I think the reason I'm so attracted to fat degenerate nerd losers is not just because they're a lot easier to please, but they also know exactly what they want and where they stand. It's the same with girls--I'm much more interested in chubby, awkward, dyed-hair nerd girls than the girls that called me a bulldyke in high school.

"High-value" men and women in my age group (or whatever they like calling themselves) have no interests beyond vague terms like "traveling" or "doggos" or whatever else I've seen on Hinge. The women are also extremely hesitant about actually getting with women (bicurious) while the men just expect you to worship the ground they walk on, for no reason. I dated a 4.0 gpa gymbro and it was exhausting how insecure, manipulative, and immature he was. no self-awareness at all, just pure narcissism. It's incredibly self-deprecating to worship someone that doesn't impress you.

I've also dated a chubby nerd, and while he wasn't a very good boyfriend, he knew what he liked, and he worshipped me in the bedroom. Our sex life was the reason I stayed.

This is all to say, yeah, those girls are going to be judging you and thinking they'd rather swallow glass than kiss you. they won't be happy, though, with their physically active partners. bodies truly do not represent how good someone can fuck, or love, really. i know this is all a fetish, and it IS hot to have a food-waste-filled goon cave, but outside of all this, you will be loved, and you seem really cool. even tho casca is better.

[falling-star-cygnus]

i started writing this right when my ear infection, my first one, was getting reeeally bad. then i got really into Etoile

anyway, what y'all are ACTUALLY here for:

Pause for Credits [they'll roll without me] <- {ao3 fic link} <- SUMMARY: Lu Guang meets the original Cheng Xiaoshi again, the one this whole loop started for. They have a conversation, maybe a hug, and Lu Guang maybe gets some goddamn comfort

+=+=+

This was wrong.

Sort of- maybe not wrong, but not.. right either. Everything was... bleached in a way. Fuzzy around the edges, to the touch. To the taste.

Overexposed.

Lu Guang ghosts his fingers over their [whose?] counter on his way in, only vaguely taking in the way they seem to mesh with the marble, the way they overlapped just slightly.

Maybe he was just seeing things.

Is this what it felt like to jump into a video? [see, into a video. Why would he jump?]

Everything was.. floaty. Untethered. Like his head was filled with cotton and warm memories and his tongue with familiar flavors of milk tea.

It felt nice. Too nice.

Too nice for someone like Lu Guang. Lu Guang, who clung to things until they bled. [but clung to what-?]

He keeps going, further into this daydream, until he makes it to where they've hung up snapshots of their life [whose life?]. These are fuzzy too, like sketches, but he feels a little like a sketch himself. So- it's fine.

They're even.

Red light seeps out from under their dark room door.

He keeps going.

Farther still around the corner, where the sun starts to leak onto tile. This room is more familiar, real, with its plants and comfy furniture. His hand leaves the wall.

This space wasn't real.

Lu Guang could tell that much, even with the fuzz in his head tempting him to sit down for a moment and drift. Their couch was too clean. Lacked the lingering patches of blood.

Unless...

He doesn't sit, but he does drag his fingers along the yellow cushions.

Perfectly soft, with just a hint of lemon. Warm.

It's instinct that draws him to look at his watch next, for the countdown he knows must be there even if he's not sure why. Only it's not. The numbers are jumbled, warped, into something unintelligible. Surreal.

Tapping at it doesn't help.

He moves on, much like a ghost, to the green chair. This is clean too.

Everything is clean, with no dust or tears or dying leaves or death. Even the tiles and window panes are sparkling.

Lu Guang tries not to dwell on how his reflections have no face.

His fingertips feel raw from trailing along the different materials, only exacerbated by the rough brick he feels up on his way to their stairs. Raw like they could split open and leave a line of blood.

Up and up, the stairs seem to stretch forever. Longer than what should be possible, than what he's used to. What he's counted.

1, 2, 3.. 4, 5, 6, 7...

There were still more to go.

When Lu Guang glances behind him, there's nothing to return to. A void.

He keeps going.

8, 9, 10, 11... 12.. 13... 14..

thump.

His legs don't burn, oddly enough, for having had to repeat their stairs twice. And bit by bit by the fuzz recedes, near completely gone by the time his foot hits solid wood.

My clothes have changed... Lu Guang thinks, almost idly. And they have, for the most part- he's wearing pants now, instead of shorts. Black ankle socks instead of the knee high ones. And this black shirt is his, but the white throw over is...

...huh. He can't remember..

Most of his shirts and sweaters belong to someone else, now that he thinks about it. But who?

The person he lives with, maybe? The reason he keeps referring to all this furniture and warmth as 'theirs' instead of his? Why can't he remember?

Maybe he just hasn't gone far enough yet.

A majority of the fuzz in his mind has cleared, allowing him to recognize that something is still being hidden from him. Maybe multiple somethings. Multiple people.

beep

A girl with choppy black hair.

beep

A model.. blond on top and amber-eyed.

beep

A man with a gun... he didn't like him.

beep

"I was wondering when I'd see you again," someone calls, from somewhere vaguely in front of him, "Lu Guang."

He looks up, hadn't even realized his head had bowed in the first place and there's a boy sitting right there. Right on the bottom bunk, with a smile so kind it stabs at something fragile in Lu Guang's chest. Something guarded.

He knows that smile. He'd know it anywhere.

So how could he have forgetten?

The boy, with silky black hair tugged in possibly the world's smallest ponytail, lowers his phone to beside his bent knee- his other leg dangling off in front of him. Lu Guang's watch reads 00:00.

"Cheng Xiaoshi?"

=+=+=

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

Cheng Xiaoshi cradles his catatonic best friend close to his chest, jaw twitching with both anger and venom. Lu Guang was completely out of it, limp as a fucking ragdoll-

"Relax..." their client soothes, her dreamy voice exactly not what he needs right now, "He's completely fine."

Fine!?

"He's unconscious!"

Lu Guang's breaths puff against the underside of his jaw, from where he's got one hand supporting his neck and the other brushing his hair up and away.

They never should've taken this stupid job, Cheng Xiaoshi knew something was off about this lady. Knew and he didn't say anything and now Lu Guang was dying-

Dying from what he's not entirely sure yet, but no one who's healthy's eyes just roll into the back of their head!

"He's resting," the lady corrects, frustratingly collected.

"What did you do to him?" Cheng Xiaoshi asks again, the slowly growing cold weight in his arms the only thing preventing him from lunging at her.

Gentle, he had to be so so gentle.

She must know this too, because all she does is tut softly at him. Amused. He wants to punch her.

"I told you already.. I gave him the gift of closure."

"But what does that mean? Couldn't you just pay us in yuan instead? You know, like a normal client?"

Seriously, who just went around knocking people out as payment!? Okay well- the Triad families did, but that was a more... 'you cross us and you pay' kinda payment.

Lu Guang hadn't done anything except find her stupid cat.

Which, of course, was purring away on her owner's lap without a care in the goddamn world.

"You'll see when he wakes up.. probably."

Something cold weighs down on his chest, like a brick made of ice, one that pressed its blunt corners against the inside of his skin and tried to stretch him out.

Her hand reaches out for his best friend's forehead, like she had any right to touch him.

He tries to smack her hand away- but she apparently can't take a fucking clue because it doesn't deter her. Lu Guang didn't like strangers touching him, didn't even like them looking at him, so goddamn it Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't let her do it again.

"Oh thank you! Thank you so much," the client sobbed, taking her cat in her arms like a baby.

That was cute. When people treated their animals like humans.

Lu Guang had done that with Elizabeth, in the short time they'd had her. That cat had lived the HIGH life. Well- anyone that got to cuddle Lu lived the high life.

He wanted to cuddle Lu Guang. If that- if that wasn't obvious. Was that obvious? Probably.

The satisifed client spoke up again, after maybe two straight minutes [Lu liked specific numbers] of petting her cat's tummy: "Thank you, truly... let me give you a gift."

"That won't be necessary," his pale friend tried to decline, but the lady was already up in his space. Cheng Xiaoshi rushes forward, even as something in his gut told him he wouldn't make it in time.

And he didn't- because she'd already pressed two fingers to his forehead.

"My gift to you is one of closure," the lady's voice was weird as she said it, layered and echoey. Her fingers drag down Lu Guang's nose and pull away.

He'd dropped like a stone. Granted- Cheng Xiaoshi would never let him hit the floor if he could help it, it was dusty and cold and awful and Lu didn't deserve that, so really he fell more like a damsel but.. you know.

Semantics.

Point is, he couldn't stop her from knocking his best friend out, but he can stop her from touching him further.

So he does. Cheng Xiaoshi pulls Lu Guang into his shoulder with one hand and uses his other to grip her grabby wrist. It's not tight enough to hurt, of course, but it could be. If she didn't back off-

"What do you mean probably," he demands, fraught and angry.

"He doesn't seem like the sharing type, s'all. Like he's got lots of secrets."

Which is an infuriatingly unbothered response from someone who just put the most important person in his life in a coma.

But ...ugh..

She's also not wrong. Lu Guang was not, in fact, the sharing type. And he did have a lot of secrets.

She could've phrased it better though... his mind whispers, like a petulant child needing the last word.

"When he wakes up, you better be gone."

"Fair enough."

+=+=+

"That's me~!"

Cheng Xiaoshi, because who else could all that warmth possibly belong to, looks at Lu Guang like he's something worth seeing. Like Lu Guang hadn't killed him with his mere presence and forced him to relive the loop over and over-

Two warm, calloused palms cup his face. When had he gotten so close?

"You look... so tired." his best friend breathes out, mournfully soft as his thumb brushes the peach soft skin under his muderer's eye.

Lu Guang can barely swallow.

"Let's catch up," Cheng Xiaoshi prompts, gentle gentle gentle.

Too much, too much. toomuchtoomuch-

Numbly, the pale-haired boy can feel himself nodding. This Cheng Xiaoshi, the first- the original- is more filled out than the one he has now. Burdened with smaller scars Lu Guang had learned to avoid.

Softer with love Lu Guang didn't let himself feel. [that was a lie. no matter how much he forced himself, loving this man might as well be a node]

His touch was warm on his face, alive, and constant, and fuzzy, and-

"I'm sorry," he sobs, unbidden and raw and abrupt because he might not get another chance, "I'm so sorry."

As kind as ever, as forgiving as ever- even to the undeserving- the photographer cocks his head to the side. One dark brow rises playfully.

"You always blamed yourself for the weirdest things, Guang Guang," he laughs- laughs- and bumps their foreheads together, "What are you apologizing for, huh? Living?"

What? No- maybe?

If he had died then maybe-

bonk

Lu Guang reels back as far as Cheng Xiaoshi will let him, gripping his sturdy [sturdy- sturdy, not dying] wrists, "Ow-"

"Don't you dare," his best friend snarls at him, thrusting their heads together again- somehow even harder, "Do you hear me, Lu Guang? Don't you dare-"

But how could he not? How many times now had he held Cheng Xiaoshi's dying body now?

How many times did he have to keep doing it?

Why couldn't he understand? If Lu Guang had just died in instead-

"There's not a single timeline where I would've been better off without you!"

"YOU HAD A FAMILY WAITING FOR YOU!" Lu Guang has never been one to raise his voice if he could help it- that had long been beaten out of him- but he needed his friend to understand.

More than anything, he needed Cheng Xiaoshi to understand that he wasn't not alone. That he'll never be alone if the time traveler could help it and-

"AND YOU'RE A PART OF IT!"

Cheng Xiaoshi seems to lose his wind at the same time his words punch it out of his friend's chest, his gentle hands sliding down to to rest upon scrawny shoulders. Around a wartorn upper back.

Until their chests are crushed together, until the time traveler can cling tight enough to bleed.

"Please, Lu Guang.. you're a part of it." he says again, so so softly, "You've always been a part of it."

"How can you say that!?" it was infuriatingly on brand, infuriatingly the man he loved- "Do you even know what I've done-"

There was more blood on his hands than in their couch, than in their floorboards or hair or history. Or veins. Blood he doesn't regret spilling.

Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't let him wriggle far, but their eyes meet once more. Grey and warm warm brown. A scared animal meets its home.

"There are pieces of myself that I can't bring back."

Pieces of himself he can no longer remember, faces he'll never again be able to identify. His name is not his, but rather something he learns each loop. His age.

His original hair color. His favorite foods. What lies within a good book.

The noose around Cheng Xiaoshi's neck is bright red, and Lu Guang holds tight to the other end.

He clung to things until they bled, until they became one under his nails and until it was time to cut into himself and offer his own meager bones.

"You haven't lost anything," the photographer says firmly, offers without the kindness of refusal.

His hand is no less gentle when it raises Lu Guang's head.

"...what?"

"You haven't lost anything!" Cheng Xiaoshi says again, thumbing away tears the pale-haired boy hadn't realized begun to fall, "Every 'piece' you don't think you have.. I'll always know them!"

"You really are an idiot," bubbles out of his chest hysterically, "what are you-"

"You're the idiot!" he snaps, and Lu Guang's mouth snaps shut, "Suffering alone when I'm right here- when I can help."

Lu Guang finds he can't say anything at all to that- and even if he could, Cheng Xiaoshi barrels on before he has a chance to anyway.

"Your name is Lu Guang," he says, as sure as the sun rising, "You're twenty years old, twenty-one in October. Your hair used to be black, just like mine."

Slowly, the photographer walks them backwards- towards the stairs with the blurry portraits.

Red is not a color to dread anymore, not here, and instead it's reminescent of long nights painting nails and short lived hairstyles. It's the color that ties his heart to Cheng Xiaoshi's, even as this false world splinters around them.

"You hate spicy food," his soulmate says, his laugh wet on the edges, "You always switch our plates when you get it."

Red is the color that spreads over his cheek and ears and nose.

"You love mangas that have sweet endings, where no one dies, and I get why now."

Their time is coming to an end, Lu Guang knows. He can feel the fuzz from before creep back in, and he can feel the warmth of it flicker.

But this time..

"Lu Guang, I can't promise to stay by your side forever.. but I'll stay as long as I can. As long as you want me. I promise." it's not so different than what'd he himself had promised, and that stings at something in his ribs.

This time the warmth on his lips is sweet, as it bids him farewell. It's kind.

And it's goodbye. And maybe it's something new.

Lu Guang doesn't know if he'll ever be able to skirt death's premature clutches, or if he'll ever make it to an eternity of tranquility at his best friend's side.

But he knows, he's learning, that it will be okay anyway.

Because he's not carrying these pieces alone anymore, he's not losing them to cling to Cheng Xiaoshi.

He's intrinsically known. And he is loved.

And maybe he's earned it.

+=+=+

The body Cheng Xiaoshi holds is as cold as a stone.

It's terrifying, frankly, considering it's his best friend and he's still not responsive and he's only getting colder. Shit, shit, shit. Lu Guang hated the cold.

He thinks it has something to do with his very obvious lack of body mass and general... lack of vitamins. Or maybe it was just instinct to hide his bony frame from leering eyes.

Either way, the cold sucked and that's why Cheng Xiaoshi found himself wrapping the pale boy up in his jacket.

And rocking him gently against his chest.

Alright, he didn't want to let go!

The dreamy lady from before had taken off before things had really taken a turn for the worse. Smartly, because if she had kept talking him in circles he thinks he might've claimed one of her teeth as a trophy.

Weren't superpowers supposed to be rare? Why did everybody and their mother seem to have them lately..

'Gift of closure' what the hell did that mean?

Lu Guang was still so cold.. like a corpse. NOT going down that rabbit hole! Nope! Like a normal, cold, alive human!

Heh... heh.. he clears his throat.

Maybe Cheng Xiaoshi should move them to the downstairs couch? It would be more comfortable, and maybe warmer. But also you weren't supposed to move people that had brain injuries, he thought.

Or was that- spine injuries?

Was it all injuries!?

AGH, what was he supposed to do!?

Lu Guang was the one that dealt with this stuff. Or Qiao Ling. But neither of them were here right now.. and his phone was out of reach. So what was the next best step?

Turns out, the next best step is staying on the floor.

His best friend rouses slowly, but he rouses and that's what it's important. Sleepy, kitten grey eyes carefully blink open- around the same time he'd resorted to try rubbing warmth back into catatonic lanky limbs with his bare hands.

"Lu Guang?" and that's all he gets out before his lapful of best friend turns into an armful.

Lanky arms wrap around his shoulders like he's trying to hide from rain- shaking to match as his fluffy white hair tickles his nose.

And what else can he do but hold on just as tight?

"Why are we on the floor?" his best friend mumbles, very characteristically he might add. More in character then say- curling into his arms.

"Uh- because you passed out?"

Did he forget...? DID HE HAVE A HEAD INJURY!?

"Oh." Lu Guang sighs, "Right... you caught me..?"

Cheng Xiaoshi tucks his nose into that soft cloud of hair, and tucks his arms around a skinny back- burdened by too many secrets.

It's amazing, how he can literally feel the tension melt out of him.

"Of course I did."

[viennacherries]

WIP Tag Game

omg this is so exciting i've never been tagged in one of these before!! thank you @darkurgetrash for the tag i love u <3

gonna tag a couple of the besties: @cakeboxie @drizztdohurtin @underdark-dreams and all of my other moots who do writing <3 or if you don't write show us your art wips!!!

~~~

It's not like you didn't already know this, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Rolan is not a patient person.

You'd managed to find a spot with a rock outcropping that made a good enough shelter. The problem is, for both of you to fit under it, it's a little cramped. But you didn't want either of you sat out in the open where anything could spot you, so you'd reluctantly backed up to the wall and against Rolan's side.

It's a bit maddening, being this close to him. His scent fills your nostrils (he smells like weave and something musky, like sandalwood), which is incredibly distracting, and up close you notice he's covered in freckles. They cover his cheeks and forehead and climb their way up to his ears. He's also taken his hair down, which is frankly rather rude of him. It looks soft.

What's ruder is the fact that he literally cannot sit still. His legs bounce where they're stretched out in front of him, and every few minutes he adjusts his posture with a loud groan.

When his leg starts bouncing again for the umpteenth time, your hand shoots out and grabs his knee on its own accord to hold it down. He jumps at the contact and whips his head towards you, and the look of alarm he's wearing would be funny if he wasn't driving you insane.

"Rolan. If you don't stop fidgeting I'll stop you myself."

He frowns. "I can't help it."

You arch an eyebrow, "right, so you want me to hold you down for the rest of the evening? Because I will."

His face flushes and he shakes his head no, so you withdraw your hand. You feel his body relax next to you.

"You may as well try and get some sleep. I can keep watch and wake you up when it's safe to move."

He clears his throat, "that won't be necessary. I'm fine."

You scoff. He's definitely not fine, he's been wiggling around since you both sat down. You tell him as such and the blush rises back to his cheeks.

"I'm not- That's not why I'm-" He sighs "I'm fine."

"Ah, yes. People who are fine usually writhe around like worms."

He scowls at you, but doesn't say anything. At that moment you feel a shiver rip through you. His face softens with concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, "I'm fine."

He pulls a face at you. "Ah, yes. People who are fine usually shake like leaves."

Okay, in fairness, you walked right into that one.

"I'm okay, honestly. I'm just a bit cold."

You hadn't really thought about it when you left the inn, hopped up on adrenaline, but now you're sat here you've begun to realise you're not dressed for the chill. You're wearing a pair of light trousers and an old sweater with holes in the sleeves; the clothes you sleep in. It was fine when you were racing around looking for Rolan and fighting shadow creatures, but now that you're sat still with your back up against rock the cold is seeping into your body.

Rolan looks you up and down a few times, then makes a noise of frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've thought to- I haven't got enough magic left to cast anything to keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'll manage. Besides, you're like a furnace."

It's true, you can feel the warmth from his body where his arm is pressed up against yours. You've trying not to think about it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

There's a moment of silence, and a look of hesitation in Rolan's eye, before he lifts the arm that's against you and instead wraps it around your shoulder. You flinch.

"What are you doing?"

He's blushed again. "Well. We- tieflings, that is- we naturally run hotter. And I got you into this predicament, so the least I can do is stop you from catching pneumonia."

You try desperately to think of an argument that stops him pulling you closer, but you come up empty. You're cold and he's warm, and he smells nice and his hair looks soft, and you are a weak, weak woman.

When you don't say anything else, he tentatively stretches his arm back around your shoulder, and places his hand there awkwardly. You pull a face at him.

"That can't be comfortable, your wrist is at an angle."

He shrugs, which makes you sigh. You grab his hand where it rests on your shoulder blade and manoeuvre yourself so that you're resting your head against his chest. You wrap his arm around you and push yourself against him. He freezes.

There's a long moment where you wonder if you've overstepped a boundary, but then he's sinking himself down against the rock so you can better lean on his chest, and pulling you tight against the side of his body. There's a moment of hesitation before you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head.

His scent and warmth wraps around you and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. His chin on the top of your head is a comforting weight, and being surrounded by him like this feels... intimate. You like it.

"I'm sorry, Tav."

You frown, but don't move. "For what?"

He swallows heavily. "I really was unfair to you. It's not your fault Cal and Lia were taken. You're the only reason any of us made it this far in the first place. I lashed out and it wasn't fair."

You give a small shrug, as much as you can without shaking his arms from around you. There's a moment, and then he's moving anyway, turning to face you and holding both of your shoulders.

"Tav, I mean it. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

His eyes are piercing and you struggle to look away despite how intense his gaze is. "You were right. I'm not a leader. I just wanted to do what felt right, but I've put people in danger in the process."

He shakes his head, "I wasn't right. The best leaders are the ones who didn't choose it. They're the people everyone follows because they believe in them." One of his hands comes down and grasps yours, and you feel your breath hitch. "People believe in you, Tav. I... I believe in you."

You don't know how to reply to that, so you don't. Another shiver rips its way through your body, and Rolan wraps both of his arms around you and brings your head back to his chest.

"For warmth, of course." He says it softly.

You nod. "Of course." Your voice comes out quiet and breathless, and you feel Rolan shudder minutely.

A voice in the back of your head tells you that you're walking a fragile line, that you're slowly inching your way over it. That once you cross it there's no going back. The warmth of his embrace must be clouding your judgement, though, because you find you don't care.

[bluelolblue]

Trick-or-treat!!!!!

YAYAY THANK YOUU 💖💖

This could be for Wick Week - Autumn prompt (I'm a little late, but it fits ^ ^), event organizer @wickblr

Alright, you get a WickedSaint TREAT! Here is a little ficlet with Santino, John, Biscotti, and Dog! Wick D'Antonio husbands with their doggies :3

Enjoy ^ ^

🍂 Orange Sweaters 🍂

“Do you think it's cold?” Santino asked, resting on the couch with Biscotti in his lap. 

“No? I mean if you're cold, I could set the temperature to warmer.” John offered. He knew Santino was more into spring and especially summer when it came to the weather. He doesn't like feeling cold, so he would wear multiple layers of clothes and it would take him so long to get ready when they would go somewhere. Then again, at least he would wear his beautiful suits.

“I just want Biscotti and Dog to feel warm. Biscotti is small and fluffy, but she doesn't have an undercoat. And Dog…” Santino looked over at Dog, who was next to John and wagged his tail at him. “He has very short fur.” 

“Right. They seem fine to me. Biscotti is always cuddling next to you, so I’m guessing she likes to feel your warmth, but other than that, I don’t think she's cold. Dog, too.” John patted Dog, and he immediately placed his head on his lap, whining for more pats on the head. 

“Yes, but when we're going outside, they both only have those raincoats… that's not warm enough.” The raincoats Santino insisted on, but John was happy to get them for their pets. “They need something like… sweaters.”

John chuckled, “Sweaters?” 

“Yeah, you know… I saw so many dogs wearing all kinds of clothes outside. I think we should get them sweaters.” There was no stopping Santino, again. Their dogs have most of the things because Santino was the one who made sure they got it. Even if it was something like scarves with ghosts and pumpkins for Halloween.

“Sure, we can get them. But the pet store is closed for a week due to some renovations.” 

Santino sighed in annoyance but smiled when Biscotti climbed on his chest to give him a lick on his face. “I'll find a way, don't worry.”

“You don't need to rush, we can wait for a week,” John said softly and rubbed Santino's thigh. 

Santino hummed in agreement, kissing Biscotti’s head when she calmed down, making herself comfortable in his lap again. “Well… they announced rain for that week. I'd like to get them as soon as possible.” 

John found it so sweet how Santino was thinking a little too much about all this and how he always found a solution to get their dogs anything they wanted. He moved closer to his husband and kissed him on his cheek. “You're so sweet.”

“I'm being serious,” Santino murmured and leaned his head against John's shoulder. 

“Of course, honey.” 

Santino was right. The rain hadn't stopped for two days already, and both Biscotti and Dog were left soaked even if they had their raincoats after their walks. And John had to wash them.

Right when John returned from the bathroom with Biscotti and Dog running past him to get to Santino, who was holding a package.

“What's that?” John asked, trying to remember if they ordered something.

“I told you I always find a way.” Santino smiled, opening a small package right in front of John. He pulled out one small orange sweater and one that was bigger. 

“They only had the orange ones. But I think it fits for autumn and Halloween.” 

“They're really pretty and definitely would fit for that, yes. But… when did you even order them?” John was always amazed how Santino managed to get everything under control and find a solution for anything. 

“People still work for me, remember?” Santino winked playfully, crouching down to put the sweater on Biscotti.

“Oh, yeah. You just keep surprising me.” John smiled at him, watching how Santino put the sweater on Biscotti. Santino glanced at John and chuckled.

“Ah, it fits her! She's adorable.” Biscotti happily wagged her tail, licking Santino's hands and quickly running towards John to do the same. 

“Yeah, she is,” John agreed, picking her up as Santino managed to get Dog to stand still to get him into the sweater. “They're both ready for the cold weather now.”

Santino struggled a little to put the sweater on Dog but he managed. “There we go. Look at him,” Santino murmured as he patted Dog, checking out his sweater. “Beautiful. They both deserve treats.” He went to grab the treats, Biscotti wiggled in John's arms and he placed her down, watching how she ran up to Santino, whining and begging for treats.

“They are matching like this, good job, honey. I'm glad you got them.” John could forever watch his husband play with their dogs, it was something that made him happy because Santino was finally truly smiling, feeling happiness that before he rarely experienced.

Later, the sound of the rain pouring outside made everyone sleepy. Biscotti and Dog lay down by their feet, in their sweaters, Dog was licking Biscotti's head as if he was cleaning her. 

John kissed his husband deeply, caressing his cheek and admiring him. “This is really nice what you did for them. I'm guessing they'll be wearing these every day?” 

“Of course, as long as it'll be cold. I'm sure there will be different colors for winter, so I'd like to get more. And I want you to choose with me next time.” Santino snuggled closer to John. 

“I'd love to.” 

John was about to kiss him again when Biscotti and Dog squeezed between them. “They really want to show off, huh?” Santino chuckled, rubbing Biscotti's back over the soft sweater.

“Yeah, and they have every right, they know they look good.” John snuggled with Dog, while Biscotti found a perfect place between him and Santino.

“I could pre-order more sweaters if they continue to act like this.” 

“I already know you will.” John reached to hold Santino's hand. 

Santino hummed softly before answering, “I will.” 

[endercreep25]

Okayyyyy so been working on these for a little while now...

13 Sans AU fluff one shots. Some are longer than others, but they're all pretty short-

Uh, enjoy, I guess ^^

I put them under the cut because it's a pretty long post.. lol

Prompt list was taken from here. They are not my prompts.

Prompt 1 :

"Are you always this stupid, or are you just feeling festive?"

Error crossed his arms, glaring at Ink, who was holding the most hideous sweater he'd ever seen. Ink had a massive grin on his face, his eyes two stars, one red and one green. Even worse, though, was the sweater he wore. Obnoxious colors of "festivity" splattered wildly all over it, with randomly blinking and very distracting neon lights. When Error reluctantly agreed to go to this idiotic Christmas party, he certainly didn't agree to wear that horrific sweater. Nor would he go with Ink looking like the idiot he was.

"Come on, Error!" Ink whined, his voice grating like nails on a chalkboard as he frowned, "It's just a sweater contest! The winner gets a plate of Blue's tacos!"

The glitch scowled fiercely, error messages dancing around his dark form, "I am not wearing that."

Ink lowered the sweater, blinking his wide eyes at the other skeleton. His eyelights had changed to a teal teardrop and a purple question mark, "Please....?"

Error stared at him, his uneven gaze lingering on Ink's pleading face, "No."

Ink gave a heavy sigh, his shoulders drooping dramatically.

The glitch felt his resolve wavering as he continued to glare at him.

"Pretty please with a star on top...?" Ink begged softly.

Error groaned, long and low, before he rubbed his hand across his nasal ridge, "Fine. But you owe me chocolate, Squid. Lots of it."

Ink immediately straightened up, his eyelights shifting quickly to the same vibrant stars from before with a joyous squeal. Error regretted his decision already. It only intensified when Ink rushed forward like he had lost his mind, intending to put the sweater on Error himself.

"GET AWAY FROM ME-" Error snapped, scrambling backward with haste.

Ink only grinned in response.

Prompt 2:

"ONE DRUNK ASSASSIN, ARMED WITH A BUBBLE GUN AND A BAG OF MARBLES, IS ONE DRUNK ASSASSIN TOO MANY."

Blue stated his sentence with authority despite the slurring of his words and uncoordinated movements of his wildly waving hand as he leaned across the table towards Ink.

Ink scoffed, yanking the page off the table dramatically, before he mumbled, "Dream got to use his character..."

Blue sat down heavily, the plastic cups wobbling unsteadily as the table shook, threatening to knock over the meticulously set-up display. "DREAM HAS A NORMAL CHARACTER, INK."

"Maybe we should wait to start the campaign until you're both less drunk...?" Dream piped up hesitantly from his side of the table, where he clutched his character sheet in his gloved hands.

Both of the other two turned to glare at him. Dream lowered his gaze, sipping at his cup of water awkwardly.

"WE AGREED WE WOULD START IT TONIGHT," Blue snapped.

"Maybe Dream should be the Dungeon Master instead of you," Ink growled lowly at Blue, "I bet he would let me use my character."

"DON'T BE RIDICULOUS. HE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A PLOT! I HAVE EVERYTHING PLANNED OUT ALREADY!" Blue fumed his words blending together as he struggled to remain focused on Ink.

"Okay, whatever," Ink scowled, "What if he's a sober assassin?"

Blue paused for a moment, contemplating.

"Fine," He huffed, gathering his notes in a neat pile.

Ink grinned, his smirk mischievous as he winked at Dream, despite his words being directed at Blue, "I'd like my character to enter the tavern."

Prompt 3:

"Aren't fish meant to stay in the water?"

Cross frowned, eyeing the limp form in Killer's hand.

"Yep," Killer chirped, his grin stretching across his face.

His frown deepened, "So... why are you just... holding it..?"

Killer looked down at the silvery fish in his hand and then back up at Cross. "I was going to feed it to the cats. They didn't want it. Then I was going to throw it at Nightmare, but he's in his study."

Cross narrowed his eyes at him uncertainly, "What are you going to do with it then...?"

Killer's grin widened further, and he didn't respond. Cross stepped back, his gaze darting from Killer's face to the fish he still held passively. Horror could hear from the kitchen a panicked wail from Cross and Killer's cackling laughter.

"IT'S IN MY JACKET!" Cross howled frantically, prompting Horror to drop his kitchen utensils with a heavy sigh and head into the other room to quiet them down before Nightmare got irritated.

Prompt 4:

"Look, it's not that I'm not grateful, but I'm pretty sure 30 uncooked turkeys might be a little extreme."

Dream blinked in shock at the grand assortment spread over the kitchen before him. Horror frowned, the sharp edges of his mouth spiking downward. Since the truce had been officialized, Horror had been determined to cook something big for both sides as a bonding experience. What did Dream mean by "extreme"?

The golden guardian continued to blabber nervously, "I mean, there's only going to be the Stars and Nightmare's group- how much can we honestly eat? And what would we do with the leftovers?"

Horror raised one eyebrow at Dream, "You clearly haven't seen me hungry."

His rambling halted promptly, "What?"

Horror chuckled lightly, resuming the tying of his apron around his waist, "I'll probably take care of half of these by myself."

A concerned smile flitted onto Dream's face, "You're funny, Horror..."

"I'm not kidding." He dusted his hands off after grabbing an assortment of seasonings. "Just wait, and you'll see."

"That can't possibly be healthy..." Dream stared.

Horror's hand thudded sharply onto the counter, his voice hardening, "30 turkeys is the amount we need."

The guardian yelped at the sudden sound, nodding wildly, "Okay! Okay... 30 turkeys is fine..."

"I guess we could take any leftovers into the Omega Timeline..." Dream added in an undertone a moment later.

Horror only rolled his eye, focusing on his cooking.

Prompt 5:

"If you're calling to ask me about what went down yesterday, you're wasting your time."

Nightmare's scornful voice spoke from the phone. Dream stifled his sigh and kept a level tone.

He forced the polite words from his clenched teeth, "Nightmare, Ink returned from hanging out with Killer, Dust, and Horror missing Broomie. You and I both know his memory isn't reliable, and I simply wanted you to speak with your team to see if they remembered anything."

Dream didn't voice the thought that since Nightmare clearly knew what he was talking about, Dream had a feeling his brother had something to do with the brush's disappearance.

"Hmmmmmm..." Nightmare murmured at an agonizingly slow pace, "I can't say I know anything about a missing Broomie... I was informed of... other activities... But that is irrelevant. I will speak with them."

"Wait, what? What 'other activities'?" The guardian of positivity scowled in concern.

Nightmare didn't respond, seemingly having left the phone behind while he went to ask the three members.

He returned a moment later, his voice thick with satisfaction, "They don't recall Ink having Broomie at all during their outing."

Dream released a low growl of irritation at the calmness in his brother's voice.

"Although they did say Ink had mentioned not wanting to lose it, so he had left it with someone. Perhaps this is of use to you?" Nightmare smoothly added, a faint hint of laughter in his words.

Before Dream could respond, Ink charged into his study, throwing open the door with a loud bang.

"Dream! I found Broomie! He was with Error! Apparently, I hadn't wanted Nightmare's gang to steal it, so I left it with him! How funny is that?" The artist grinned, his eyelights dancing excitedly from shape to shape and color to color.

Dream sighed heavily, rubbing his hand down his face before speaking back into the phone, his voice tired, "We found him. Thank you for your time, brother."

Nightmare only chuckled lowly before hanging up the device.

Prompt 6:

"Please stop yelling about vampire conspiracy theories at three in the morning. You're starting to make our neighbors uncomfortable."

Sci frowned, putting his glasses on and stifling a wide yawn.

Blue puffed his chest out, "BUT IF I DON'T, NO ONE WILL BE PROPERLY INFORMED OF THE DANGERS!"

"Please, Blue," He heaved an exhausted sigh, "Vampires aren't real.."

"NONSENSE. CLEARLY YOU ARE UNAWARE OF THE TRUTH ABOUT THESE VILE CREATURES!" Blue chirped grandly.

Sci groaned, pinching his nose ridge, "No one in this house will get any sleep if you don't stop."

Blue beamed, "EXACTLY. IF WE STAY VIGILANT, THEY CANNOT ATTACK US IN OUR SLEEP."

The other skeleton only scowled, making a mental note to see if Orange could talk some sense into his brother. Until then, he'd just have to tune Blue out and hope he could get at least some rest.

Prompt 7:

"I don't know what you're talking about. I think eating my body weight in chocolate, after learning about the existence of demons, is a perfectly reasonable coping method."

Cross huffed, turning his back to the other three.

"What, demons?" Horror raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," Cross turned back around, snapping off another piece of chocolate to shove in his mouth when he finished talking, "Your 'boss' or whatever."

Killer chuckled, "You think Nightmare is a demon?"

"Have you seen him? Unstable form, evil, dark, and ominous, it all makes sense." Cross retorted, shoving a chocolate-covered finger at Killer's chest.

The skeleton smirked, dark streaks running from his empty eye sockets, "That would imply Dream's an angel, right?"

Cross folded his arms across his chest, responding promptly, "Yes, I suppose it would."

Killer snickered as Horror rolled his eye and walked away, clearly not wanting to be included in this conversation anymore. Dust remained standing passively, his hands tucked in his pockets, face hidden by his hood.

"Wait-" Cross's sockets narrowed suddenly, "No. I didn't- It's not like that!"

Killer laughed, retreating backward quickly and calling out from his cupped hands, "Ohhhh, Nightmare!!!"

"KILLER," Cross howled, jumping up, scattering uneaten chocolate and empty wrappers from his lap, eyes widening in panic.

Prompt 8:

"Oh we're taking the murder route this time? Ok."

Killer rolled his shoulders with a grin. "I love it when I get to have a little fun."

Fresh remained where he was, his hands in his pockets, an unwavering grin that felt very smug to the gang facing him. His glasses flashed back to their usual bold blue and yellow letters against the black background.

Dust didn't move either, and the shadows hiding his face made him unreadable.

Killer glanced at him with a flash of irritation, "What's the matter, Dusty? Scared of the walking pride flag?"

The hooded skeleton gave no response, simply taking an almost unnoticeable step back.

"That dude knows how ta make a smart choice, brah." Fresh chirped in his gratingly annoying voice.

It made Killer grit his teeth, his grin twitching downward for just a moment before he forced it back up with a flick of his wrists, swinging the knives he wielded. "No biggy. I can still kick your [ASH]."

Killer froze, "The hell..? What the [FUNK] was that?"

"Them are some bad words, broski. Can't be sayin' those 'round here," Fresh's grin widened.

Killer felt himself growing angrier. This guy was really starting to get on his nerves. Before he could charge him or even shout another insult, Horror had snatched Killer up, throwing him over his shoulder and teleporting away.

"Tried to warn ya." Dust's gravelly voice spoke from under his hood, tone completely neutral.

Killer growled in frustration, storing his knives away with a flourish: "We coulda taken that 90s freak."

"There are plenty of other places to get supplies, idiot," Horror sighed heavily. "If he could change your words, just think what else he could do."

"Whatever," He huffed, his empty sockets narrowing, "I think you two are just a couple of wimps."

"Heh. Can't just dip on me like that, bro. I got some beef with you now. Totally ruined my vibe."

Prompt 9:

"Please stop responding to every threat with 'Oooh~ Kinky!'."

Killer growled, narrowing his eyes at the other skeleton.

Lust smirked, "Or maybe you should just stop threatening me, darling."

"Not my fault you're a weirdo," Killer crossed his arms.

"Takes one to know one.." Lust practically purred, leaning back against the wall. "And I, for one, find weirdos have the most... intriguing interests..."

Killer visibly shuddered, "On second thought, I think I hear Nightmare yelling at me.."

Lust simply chuckled as Killer darted off, leaving him alone. That is, until Fresh appeared beside him.

The taller skeleton raised an eyebrow at Lust, "That's pretty homosexual, brah."

"I mean, I'm open to anyone who's interested..." Lust smirked wider, "But no, I simply enjoy making him squirm... It's amusing."

Fresh grinned, "Fair point, broski. I've had my fair share of messin' with him."

Prompt 10:

"Stop trying to eat the guests!"

The Ink doll flailed wildly around, suspended by the blue strings.

Error narrowed his gaze at the Fresh puppet opposite the table, moving its hands as he spoke for it, "But Ink! I'm a psychopathic maniac with a disgusting, flailing parasite for a brain! I don't know anything else!"

The glitch smirked, tightening the strings on his miniature version of himself. "I don't know why you invited that freak to the dinner anyway, Ink. You should have known he would cause trouble!"

"Error, please!" the Ink doll cried. "We need you to delete Fresh and save the party!"

The dozen or so assorted dolls bounced wildly, and a murmured, cheering agreement came from Error as he moved his own puppet forward. "Prepare to die, stupid anomaly!"

He cast his strings over the Fresh doll, looping them around its arms and legs before tossing it out of view and proudly placing his mini-self's hands on its hips.

"There you are," The Error puppet nodded proudly, "No need to fear! I have eliminated the threat."

The classic doll strode forward. Error opened his mouth to continue before a loud snicker from behind him nearly startled him out of his bones. He whirled, dolls dropping to the ground as his strings slackened. The stupid squid was leaning on his oversized paintbrush, grinning smugly.

"Wow, Error," Ink chuckled, "Didn't take you to be the hero type."

Error stiffened, his glitches flaring wildly. He could feel a building pressure in his head, either the beginning of a headache or a crash. He didn't really care at the moment. All he wanted to do was bash Ink's skull in and string him up for all eternity. Yeah, that sounded reasonable to him.

Prompt 11:

"Do you happen to have a crowbar? I need one because of reasons."

Ink gave Horror a guarded grin.

"Do I want to know these reasons?" Horror narrowed his gaze slightly, one visible eye trained carefully on Ink.

The artist blinked, his gaze switching to a red 'x' and a green circle, "No, I do not think you will."

Horror paused momentarily, "Does it have anything to do with Error?"

Ink froze, "Uh.. maybe...?"

The larger skeleton relaxed back into the chair, "There's one in the hall closet. Just don't do anything Dream or Nightmare wouldn't."

"Thanks!" Ink brightened, nearly bouncing over to the closet. "That's a pretty vague range you've given me."

"Eh. He probably deserves it," Horror shrugged.

Ink had found what he was looking for, smacking it on his open palm as though testing its hardness, his voice a low growl, "Oh yes, he does.."

Prompt 12:

"To be fair, I wasn't the only one who thought that setting them on fire was an appropriate response."

Killer defended himself with a shrug.

Dream scowled at him, "Who else agreed? I seem to recall you seeing the cows loose in the field and immediately running off to set fire to the forest!"

"Blueberry yelled 'Smores!' when I yelled 'Arson!'" Killer frowned. "I took that as agreement."

Dream took a deep breath, "You're honestly using Blueberry as your reasoning? You're kidding me."

"Uhhh... No?" Killer tilted his head.

"Hey, Dream?" Ink jogged over, his expression bewildered, "Why is there a burning forest?"

Dream simply sighed, "Killer decided that the best way to calmly herd the cows back into their pen was to light the entire forest on fire."

Ink frowned, glancing between Killer and Dream. "Why would he think that?"

"I don't know, Ink." Dream gave an exhausted, somewhat sarcastic, half-hearted smile, "Why don't you ask him?"

"Whatever. Forget it. I knew trying to help out was a lost cause anyway." Killer muttered under his breath, avoiding their gazes.

Dream heaved another sigh, "Killer, come on. It's not a lost cause. You just need a little more practice."

"Yeah. Sure." He practically growled, glaring at the ground.

Prompt 13:

"....Do I want to know why you thought bringing a shovel was necessary?"

Ink squinted at Classic, his eyelights dual question marks.

Classic gazed passively at the small group, "What? I figured digging us out of any sticky situations would be helpful." He tapped the handle with a chuckle.

Ink snorted, prompting Blue to roll his eyes, thoroughly unamused.

"It could help get a handle on things," Classic continued, "Or provide a path for some ground-breaking humor..."

Blue scowled, unamused. Ink, on the other hand, was openly chuckling. Dream simply watched the interaction, keeping quiet.

"Are you done, or do we need to scrap the mission so you can run your comedy club?" Huffed Nightmare with a roll of his eye.

Classic shrugged, "Not a fan of puns, got it." He stabbed the shovel into the ground. "I'd hate to be a stick in the mud, so I'll probably head out. Have fun, fellas."

Dream and Blue blinked in disbelief as he sauntered off in some random direction, abandoning his shovel.

"So he just left. Wow. Okay," Dream murmured.

Nightmare furrowed his brow, "Why did you want him for the mission anyway?"

"I didn't," Dream glanced at his brother, "He specifically asked if he could..."

Ink shrugged with a light chuckle, "Guess he just wanted an audience for his shovel puns. Can't really blame him, I guess."

"Well, I can." Nightmare growled lowly.

Error suddenly opened a portal with a deep scowl, "No, you can't. Classic is perfect, unlike you anomalies." And he was gone as soon as he'd appeared.

Tada! Thanks for making it way down here- I'ma just say on Prompt 9, Fresh is not judging Lust for his preferences. He's simply making an observation ^^

[mazm-imagines]

Thy Creature Modern/Zombie AU Part 3

(BOOOO MOD GWAAAAAR BOOOO WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS) Because I'm very self-centered... a part 3 no one asked for because why not :3 part 1 and 2 found in their respective links. This is all information I didn't find necessary to the plot (didnt think about till 2 days later lmao) so think of it like a bonus... TW for eye horror, gore and amputation. I'll try not to get explicit bc this is still a sfw blog. Just briefly going over it because what good is a zombie apocalypse AU without any horror...

If i think of anything else expect like a part 4 lmaoooo

FINALLY THOUGHT OF OUTFITS FOR EVERYONE :3

Noah dresses in a suit for professionalism but when shit gets real he takes off the suit jacket... and mama mia he has a harness underneath...

He also wears a small cross pendant! Bc we can't forget he's Catholic lmao.

Justine wears dresses that look vaugely like uniform but their university doesn't have a uniform she just likes dressing in academia :3 she's very cutie pie and she makes her clothes herself

EL/Erysichthon wears like. Normal children's clothing. Probably a t-shirt, some shorts and a hoodie. ALTHOUGH considering he's supposed to be Williams reanimated corpse in this AU, and Victor is still pretty well off here, maybe he'd wear something more sophisticated.

Creature honestly just picked up some random ass shit from like a trashcan, very esoteric. Justine lends it some clothes later on/makes some for it.

Leon dresses like an average college student wwww he doesn't have time to clean up. Hoodie, t-shirt and some jeans. Whatever allows him flexibility/mobility because he's very athletic.

Hanna dresses in flowing dresses/skirts and oversized cardigans. She uses her cardigan as a blanket whenever someone falls asleep :3 so like if EL gets tuckered out she's like noooo poor baby and puts her cardigan on him.

Chris dresses homeless . Drunk asf and picked up whatevers nearby. Usually wears a heavy coat.

Alex is very grandpacore/butch like sweaters and pantsuits and shit. Very cozy too like you can trust her. You know she's a baddie !!!

Ben usually wears a dress shirt tie and some pants like a very clean look. But after the divorce trademark, his tie is all janky and his shirt is stained and he's a real mess...

Victor tried to look all professional at his Uni but uh... he gave in to the hoodie jeans combo after a while

Injury time.

@fleurrice ever the enabler has made me decide we need a little eye horror in here. Siren takes out Noah's right eye lmao... lmao... he gets to wear a cool ass eye patch like that one chick from Chainsaw Man (doesnt watch CSM)

After that he uses the shattered remains of his glasses as a makeshift monocle

Noah also injures his hands by hitting 701s preserved zombie dolls. The hardened layer of skin breaks his hands and they're bandaged up like in the game. That leaves him out of commission to fight so he stays a healer instead

This wouldn't be a zombie apocalypse AU without a surgery without anaesthesia...

Chris survives one undisclosed war and now he has to fight another... life is a comedy

Yeah so they have to amputate his leg to prevent the infection from going further. And hes like god fucking damn it just do it already.

Noah and Justine have to do the operation while Hanna Creature Alex and Leon have to hold him down. Justine's helping because she's really good at sewing and considering what a precise process it is and Noah's hands being in an utterly dreadful state he needs assistance. Ben can't do anything bc EL bit him.

Justine is very frightened and Noah has to be like WE GOTTA DO THIS GIRL!!! Of course he comforts her later bc he traumatized this poor girl but at the moment he's reallllly stressed.

Chris is just chugging that whiskey... Afterwards he's fine and they help him. Alex especially because before this she already had a prosthetic arm so she helps Chris cope/adjust to the situation.

I don't know where to put this but EL!!! He behaves very uncannily. His movements are janky and his eyes are big and glossy and dollike. They're all kinda creeped out by him but assume he's just a traumatized child...

EL is a boy genius partially because he read up on Victor's book collection and has good memory. He's also insanely endurant and while we know he's a Nepe zombie, they don't. So this is just seen as an extra benefit.

The reason they don't suspect him to be one is because they couldn't find any visible bite marks on his body + he looks normal enough because of his high stability.

MY IRL FRIEND GAVE ME THIS IDEA bc hes so fucking smart. So when i told them abt Victor using octopus DNA for siren he's like maybe it's because octopus limbs grow back so Victor thought it'd be useful. And mayeb the reason why the hair color changes is because of the octopus DNA camouflage... smartie pants

[gayest-squrrel]

Tell me about your project please I'm curious about your little guys

aheeheehee >:3

this thing doesn't have a name yet hrgrhr X( but like whatever

it's inspired by Generation Loss (mostly just the first episode and DHMIS :D however the main difference is that there's no big bad that's controlling the world. it's all just chaos because that's what it formed as.

character time !

Axotic

it's the main character babey!!! Every character is born (not born, more like made ig ?) with the knowledge of a topic. Axotic has the knowledge of normality, but not the normality of their world. the world is very janky, it's like baby developer's first game that is way more complicated than they can pull off. So instead of having the knowledge of normality for their world, they know of the normality for our world ! ironically knowing the wrong things is normal in this funky place, so Axotic sees nothing wrong with their information.

design timeee

they're made of wires ! the color scheme is also rgb + cym :)

they're wearing a generic band t-shirt TM and they're pants is actually the outer layer of their skin peeling off :] (it's fine their skin is made of rubber bc wires) the layer underneath (the pants) is flesh tho and they can feel it

2. Prosum time babeyyyYYYYYY

thank you legumy for naming her <33333333

Prosum has the knowledge of results ! they can tell you how anything will end :3

design time !!!!!!

Prosum has been my favorite to design so far teehee :3 <-- has only designed two characters and still has to design and even name four more

His color scheme is kinda complicated, there are four parts of his body that have a color assigned to them (head + hands, sweater, left leg, and right leg) (the legs have multiple colors but whatever) but when one of the parts are "seperated" (the hands or the right arm of the sweater) they change to a secondary color

here's another drawing where the leg changes color to maybe help you understand. Basically no color is used more than once (excluding the eyes)

her legs are also made out of moss! he's also composed mostly of ripped up fabric and felt :D

3. unnamed character im currently working on !

this doesn't have a name or design yet haha, but i gotta mention em bc i really wanna talk about them

they have the knowledge of games ! sometimes they're a game show host, other times they're just some guy playing video games in a basement and hasnt touched grass in two months. depends on what role they're playing that day ! (taking some inspiration from Gen Loss here, each day is like a different episode where everyone has a different role !)

[smartcollection123]

smart collection

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