#its become a comfort of sorts and it makes me feel like i have more control over just. my face. and identity. and who gets access to that

[jacksoldsideblog]

truly nothing more depressing than seeing a blog glorifying self harm in the fight club tag in an unironic way and you click through to see its an anorexic 14 year old :/ i wish i could communicate like... it doesn't make you cool or better, it's not an actual way to control things in your life, i am so so sorry you think this is the sexy answer. but also jesus why do you blog about it

[iwakuraz]

(⁠ ⁠T⁠_⁠T⁠)⁠＼⁠(⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠ ⁠)

[makedamnsvre]

also idk how people just 'fell off' on wearing masks like anytime i have to be without a mask im like silently panicking. its also just uncomfortable like no you dont get to see my face. go away foreve.

[anisespice]

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?” 

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 

“Did he…say we were?” 

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Billy Doesn't Know

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

summary: You and Billy have been hooking up and it isn't until you sleep with Eddie that you realize what you really like. 

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) grinding, sub!Eddie, dom!reader, Billy just generally being a dick but that’s not new, use of pet names all by reader (baby and good boy) hurt/no comfort

100% based on the song "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra

part two

You pull up to Billy’s house, for some reason dreading seeing him. You don’t know why, though. You’re kind of over him and his attitude, but there’s something that keeps you coming back. You feel a pit forming in your stomach as you head up the steps to the house. You honestly feel so sick and you know exactly why. You’re becoming tired of Billy and the kind of guy he is and have wanted to break things off for a while. That’s the whole reason why you’re there, but you’re contemplating turning around and heading back home. 

You’re scared to tell him the truth. You’re afraid of what he might do, especially when he finds out why you’re breaking things off with him. Not only is he a complete dick to not only you, but everyone around you, but you’ve also just gotten bored of him. Well, that and you’ve found someone else. Someone who you knew actually wanted to be with you, unlike Billy. 

As soon as you knock on the door, it’s ripped open and you’re pushed against it just like always. You don’t even know what he’s doing, that’s not why you’re there and he knows it. His hand reaches for the buttons of your jeans anyway and you’re quick to stop him. 

“Wait,” you put your hand on top of Billy’s, preventing him from going further. He pulls back to look at you, frustration clear on his face which isn’t uncommon for him. It seems like he always has some sort of stick up his ass.

“What,” he spits. There’s a fire in his eyes, and not the one you’re used to, this look is murderous and for once, you’re not scared. God forbid Bill doesn’t get what he wants for once. 

“Can’t we just talk?” He lets out a laugh at that, moving away from you completely. Talk? The only kind of talking that Billy does is dirty talk.  

“Talk,” he laughs harder. “We don’t talk. We either fuck or we don’t.” That’s something that bugs you about Billy. He never wants to just have a conversation like a normal person. He’s always quick to try to fuck you. And even when he does talk to you, it’s always got sexual undertones and you don’t like that. The more you think about it, the more you realize that he doesn’t really have any redeeming qualities. Sure, he’s stupidly hot and knows how to fuck, but that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t have anything else going for him and that’s so disappointing to you. He could do and be so much more, but he’s not and he won’t. He’ll just continue to be a pig for the rest of his life.

“Well, right now I don’t want to.” That strikes a nerve and you can see it. If there’s one thing that he hates is being told no. Especially when it comes to being denied sex. Because the only person Billy cares about is Billy. He’s way too in love with him to think that anyone could possibly hate him. 

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” He moves over to the back of the couch. He wants the word to hurt you, but it doesn’t. He’s called you that so many times that it’s lost all of its meaning. 

“Well, so are you,” you retort and you swear you can see his lips twitch, wanting to say something but he holds back for whatever reason. “You can’t just make me fuck you, Billy.” He could, but he’s not going to do that. Because as much of an absolute dick Billy could be, he’d never fuck a woman without her consent. 

“Get the fuck out,” he points to the door, but you’re still standing there, your arms crossed over your chest. 

“Fine.” You turn to leave, but he speaks up before you can. 

“Hey,” he says and you turn around, hoping for an apology, but you know you’re not going to get one. 

“What,” you snap, angry at him for being mad at you since you didn’t do anything wrong. But Billy will say differently. Hell tell you that you should have just fucked him, but that makes you even more angry. Maybe one of these days you’ll actually have the guts to leave him for good.

“There’s a party at Nancy’s on Saturday and we’re going.” Billy is always wanting to crash people’s parties but that’s where you draw the line. No way are you letting him crash your friend’s party. And no way are you bringing him as your plus one. You’re going to this alone. And maybe you’ll fuck someone in the Wheeler’s guest bedroom just because you can.

“Nancy doesn’t like you.” Nancy really doesn’t like him. She even told you not to bring him. 

“But she likes you and I’m your plus one.” You hate that he just claims things like that. Giving you no say in the matter. You don’t like being told what to do. 

“You hate everyone who’s going to be there. You just want the free booze and to fuck someone in the Wheeler’s guest bedroom.” You’re right and Billy doesn’t like that you know him so well. He doesn’t like how close you’ve gotten. If he was in his right mind, he’d tell you that he didn’t want to see you anymore. And he should, but he doesn’t because he can’t. 

“Right on the money, doll. You’re not as dumb as you look.” He’s told you the exact opposite on multiple occasions so now you know he’s just trying to get under your skin. He loves pissing you off. It always makes him unbelievably hard and now he’s going to have to rub one out when you leave.

“Fuck you, Billy.” He doesn’t like that the words sting as much as they do. They feel like a stab to the heart, especially since they’re coming from you. Especially since it’s his fault you’re acting like this. 

“Oh, but you already have,” he winks, taking another drag. You should’ve known he was going to respond like that. He’s always thinking dirty. Sex is always on his mind. “Now get out.”

“Oh, so you can call one of your other hookups?” He won’t and you know that. He’ll just jack off to the thought of nothing but you. 

“Yep,” he collapses onto the couch. “you’re boring me.” He takes another cigarette from his jacket pocket before lighting it and taking a drag. “I’ll just call Stacy or Jackie.” He blows the smoke into the air and you stand there, trying to not look so pissed off even though both know he’s full of shit. 

“Fine, I guess I’ll just leave then.” You give him one last chance to make it up to you, but he seems pretty stubborn tonight. 

“Good.” He doesn’t even bother to look up at you. “We’re done here.”

“Fine.” For once, you’re actually glad he’s kicking you out. You can’t stand to look at him anymore as all it does is make you angry. 

“You’re getting the weed,” Billy tells you as he tosses a twenty dollar bill your way. Ever since the two of you had gotten close, you had been the designated person to buy the weed and whatever other drug Billy wanted for the party he was going to. You haven’t even actually been invited and he still expects you to help him out just because the two of you are sleeping together. 

“Why me?” You asked as you stuff the cash into your bra even though you know exactly why. 

“Because you’re hot.” It’s more than that, though. But you don’t want Billy to know exactly how Eddie feels about you. That will just create a mess and you don’t want to give Billy yet another reason to hate Eddie. “And that freak always sells it to you for significantly less than it’s worth.” 

He’s already been calling him a freak just like the rest of Hawkins and you don’t understand why they’re all so horrible to him. He seems to just be misunderstood.

“Or it’s because Eddie doesn’t like you and refuses to sell to you because you’re a dick.” That’s very true, you had heard the words from the metal head himself and don’t blame him one bit for it. 

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he spits, standing from the couch and grabbing hold of your arm. It’s moments like this when you wonder why you’ve been spending so much time with him. You want to cut ties, but you’re scared of what will happen if you try. It’s not unlike Billy to get violent when things don’t go his way. 

“Or what?” You spit back. “You know you won’t hurt me so I don’t even know why you try to threaten me.” 

“The party’s at seven. Be ready. And wear something slutty.” You know exactly what’s going to happen next. Billy’s going to pick you up tomorrow and you’re going to act like nothing happened. That’s what you always do. You don’t have it in yourself to stay mad at him for long. Especially when he can be so sweet sometimes. 

“I’m actually going alone.” You emphasize the word to piss him off but he couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself. “So have a good night, Billy. And while you’re falling asleep alone tonight, remember that this is your fault. It’s always your fucking fault.”

Really, the only reason why you’ve stuck around for so long was because of Max. She had become like a little sister to you and you felt the need to protect her from her older brother. You’ve seen just how horribly he’s treated her since he didn’t seem to mind yelling at her in front of you. Some days, you’ll come over just to spend time with her. When Billy’s at work, you’ll take her out for ice cream or shopping, just so she knows that she has someone who was on her side. 

“Get out,” he says, letting go of your arm and pointing towards his front door. Of course you had angered him. It seems like he always has a temper of some sort. You know where it comes from, but still don’t think he deserves to treat you or anyone else like that. And you make sure to let him know that, not afraid to stand up to him if you have to. 

“Gladly.” You head towards the door and pull it open, making sure to slam it once you go through it. 

You mutter to yourself all the way to your car, even as you’re getting in it. Once inside, you turn on the ignition and the music from the station you had turned it to blasts through the speakers and you feel like your ears are ringing because of how loud it is. 

Once the shock wears off, you turn the volume down and open your glove box, on the hunt for one of your mix tapes. Once you find one, you flip it over and notice that it has your name scrawled across it with the number three next to it in the messy handwriting you’ve become so familiar with. 

You put it in and turn up the volume as you nod your head to the song, absentmindedly heading in the opposite direction of home. You don’t want to go there just yet. And before you know it, you’re pulling into the all too familiar trailer park, parking once you pull up to the trailer with the familiar van outside it. 

You’re still angry at Billy so you’re not sure why you’re even there. You need to let off some steam, but you’re not sure that this is the place to do it. You’re not even sure that Eddie would be into what you’re thinking. He was just a friend after all and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him that you wanted to fuck him nor the fact that you had been crushing on him for quite some time. 

But you get out of the car anyway, heading to the door and knocking on it. A string of curse words can be heard from the other side, followed by a very loud “shit!” and a loud clatter. You step away from the door as it opens and there’s Eddie on the other side, dusting off his jeans while simultaneously looking like he’s out of breath. 

“Are you okay?” You ask as you step closer to him, reaching out to touch him, but he backs away. He can’t let you do that without wanting more. He wants to kiss you, maybe even more. Definitely more, but he’s not going to do anything about it. He can’t. Not if he wants to keep you as a friend. And it’s not like you’d want to fuck Eddie “the freak” Munson anyway. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just tripped.” He doesn’t want to tell you that he watched your car pull up from the window in his living room, hoping that you had been there for him even though he knows you aren’t. Because he’s just your dealer and nothing else. That’s all he ever is and that’s all he ever will be. It all just makes sense that way in his mind. 

Eddie’s not the kind of guy people marry or date. He’s the kind of guy people fuck just to get it out of their systems then swear him to secrecy because they’re too embarrassed to tell anyone that they’ve actually fucked him. Not that he’s fucked anyone anyway. And it’s not by choice, it’s just-who would want to do all that with him? He’s a freak, a nobody in everyone’s eyes and he hates that he thinks that badly of himself but he can’t help it. 

But if he’s being honest, though he’d never admit it, you’re the only one he’d want to be his first. He knows you’d be nothing but sweet and encouraging, but he’ll never bring the idea up to you. He can’t. It’s far too embarrassing and there’s no fucking way his shy, awkward self would ever get the guts to ask anyway. Not for lack of trying. He wants to, he wants to so badly, but how can he do that when everyone avoids him like the plague? 

And he knows that you’ll run from the hills if you ask, terrified to ruin what the two of you have, your friendship having already become very important even though it had only been a few months. And he absolutely can’t risk losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He just can’t.

“Are you sure?” You ask, resting your hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and Eddie swears he can feel the warmth of your skin through his shirt, hating himself because he’s wondering what they would feel like elsewhere-god, when had he become so needy for someone else in that department? His lotion, sock, and his hand usually did the trick, but now he kind of wants you to do it for him. 

“I’m fine,” he steps away, fear very evident in those pretty brown eyes and now you’re really worried  about him. You step closer and now you’re both in the kitchen and he’s backed up against the sink, really grateful that you can’t read his mind, because you surely would leave if you could. 

Your hand reaches up and runs through his hair, giving his scalp a scratch and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he hums, loving the way it feels. He wants you to pull on it as he fucks into you hard and deep, the prettiest moans falling from your lips.

“What’s going on, baby?” You ask, your voice so soft and gentle and Eddie doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone as wonderful as you. “You’re not behaving like yourself.” He wants to lay it all out on the table right there, to tell you how crazy you’ve been driving him and just how often you’ve been the star of his late night fantasies, just how many wet dreams he’s had about you. 

“I can’t tell you,” he says as his eyes open, turning his head to the side because he can’t look at your pretty face anymore, but your hands move to his cheeks, turning his head to face forward, but he still won’t look you in the eye. 

“You can tell me,” you encourage, your voice still soft, trying your best to tread lightly. His eyes finally look into yours and you swear that his are misty. Your thumbs rub back and forth across his cheeks, trying your best to comfort him, trying to figure out what it is that he’s so upset about. 

You press yourself against him and if you can feel his rock hard cock you don’t say anything. You just pull him into a hug, catching Eddie completely off guard but eventually, he wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath and gets a whiff of your perfume that he immediately finds intoxicating. 

You can hear him mumble something against your skin, but are entirely unsure what he had been saying, wanting him to repeat it. “What was that, baby?” You ask, your hand moving up to stroke his hair, but he doesn’t answer you, his face curling further into your neck as his hands crumple your shirt in his fists. 

“You can tell me,” you assure him. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, especially not around me.” 

He then pulls back to look at you, slowly, his embarrassment trying to take over but he chokes it down. He gulps then looks you right in the eyes, his boring into yours and now you’re on the edge of your seat, so interested in what he has to say. 

“I-” he cuts himself off then takes a deep breath before starting again. “I want you to kiss me.” His voice is so low that you almost don’t hear him, but when you finally understand what he’s saying, you let out a laugh, and not because you thought it was funny but because you thought he was so goddamn adorable. 

“You’re so cute,” you reply, your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself into him once again. “If you want to kiss me, then kiss me, baby.” 

He stays quiet for a moment, pursing his lips as if he’s thinking. Then the words that follow truly shock you. “I don’t know how,” he says, his voice still small and god, you just want to pull him into your arms and hold them there forever in order to protect him. This was the guy that everyone was so afraid of? He was nothing but precious and you didn’t understand why the entirety of Hawkins seemed to hate him. 

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask in shock, moreso surprised that no one has wanted to kiss him. That’s something that isn’t computing in your head in any way shape or form. And thinking about the fact that he wants you to be his first warmes your heart. You’re nothing but honored. 

“No,” he shakes his head before lowering it. You hate that he’s so embarrassed by it all. There’s no reason why he should be as everyone goes at their own pace  and it’s not his fault that no one wants to kiss him. Well, no one except for you. 

“Well I’d be honored to be your first,” you reply, watching those pretty brown eyes widen. 

“You’d really kiss me?” He asks as if he can’t possibly conceptualize it. And he can’t. Up until now, everyone had made it clear that they wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole, that he’s a freak, that he’ll just end up alone. 

“Of course I would,” you nod furiously, a wide grin on your face and Eddie’s convinced that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

“What if I suck?” It’s so cute that he cares so much, wanting to make the experience enjoyable for you. 

“You won’t,” you assure him. “Because I’m going to teach you.” 

“But what about Billy?” The name makes you freeze, your blood already simmering, but not quite to a boil yet. Why does he care so much about Billy? 

“What about Billy, Eddie?” the words come out more harsh than you anticipate and you find yourself feeling guilty as he leans back, afraid. 

“Aren’t you two together.” You let out a loud laugh as if you genuinely find the whole thing funny. You and Billy? Billy couldn’t be a boyfriend if his life depended on it. He’s told you as much more times than you can count and you’re beginning to wonder why you ever wanted him to be that in the first place. 

“Not even close. We just fuck sometimes.” There’s a feeling rising in the pit of his stomach and he’s unsure what it is. All he knows is that he hates that Billy is able to get into your pants whenever he wants, especially acts like-well, Billy. What’s so special about him, anyway? Why does he get all the girls when he acts like an asshole? Is that why Eddie’s unable to get any? Because he’s too nice? 

“So you’re not-”

“Completely unattached,” you cut him off, leaning forward so that your lips ghost over his, brushing against them and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut and you let him take the lead, wanting him to do whatever he wanted, wanting him to feel comfortable. 

His lips press against yours gently in a featherlight peck as his hands move to hold onto your arms, feeling his hands shake against the sleeves of your shirt and your heart is about to burst as how absolutely adorable he is. You think he’s going to deepen it but he pulls away before you’re ready, his hands still shaking like leaves. 

Your eyes open and you can see the pink in his cheeks, his lips parting as if he’s going to say something and you know he wants to. He always wants to speak and you think that’s your favorite thing about him. You love that he talks to you differently from his other friends. That he feels like he can tell you things he’s afraid to tell other people. 

“How was that?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip as you subconsciously twirl one of his curls around your pointer finger. 

“That was perfect,” you respond with a soft smile and watch his eyebrows furrow in confusion. You don’t know why he’s so confused. Consent is so important to you and you’d never want to do anything that made him uncomfortable. 

“Can I-” he licks his lips as he pulls you closer. “Can I try again?”

“Of course you can,” you nod and he leans forward, his hands still gripping your shirt as he pulls you in. His lips capture your bottom one and just when you think he’s going to go for it, he pauses, his eyes wide as it finally hits him what he’s doing. 

You take the lead now, your lips moving against his still ones as he stays frozen, his shoulders locked up right by his ears. But as he slowly follows you, he finds himself melting into you, realizing that it’s not nearly as complicated as initially thought. In fact, it’s so easy, especially when you’re doing a lot of the work. 

Your lips are just as soft as he was hoping and he wonders what they taste like, what flavor the sticky lip gloss you’re wearing is. But can’t get himself to go for it, not yet. He just wants to kiss you for now, not quite ready for a makeout session for yet. 

You pull away before he’s ready and he feels his cock twitch when he sees your lip gloss smeared, knowing that he was the one to make it look like that. He goes in for more but you’re quick to put your free hand against his chest to hold him back. 

“Hold on,” you say. “I just want to tell you a few things before we continue.” He nods and waits for you to speak again. “First off, you need to breathe, baby. Can’t have you passing out on me,” you giggle. “And I don’t know why you were so nervous before. You’re a natural.” 

You watch his cheeks blush, that bright red color that always makes you want to pinch them. Before you can register what he’s doing, he’s on you again, this time more rough, his hands clutching onto your shirt for dear life as he kisses you stupid, making you feel dizzy. 

Your hands slide into his hair as your tongue swipes along his bottom lip and he slowly opens up, letting you inside. It tangles with his and you hear a loud moan fall from his mouth, feeling yourself getting even more wet. You grab onto his shirt and pull him even closer to you, backing the two of you out of the kitchen as your kisses get even more heated. 

Your lips taste like that artificial strawberry flavor and even though Eddie hates that flavor normally, he can’t get enough. It’s intoxicating and he needs more, his tongue sliding into your mouth as your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, pulling another delicious moan from his mouth. 

You find yourself in the living room, your hands moving into his hair, giving it a tug, causing his head to fall back, giving you a perfect opportunity to press your lips to his jaw, moan after moan tumbling from his mouth as his legs start to feel like jello, causing him to fall onto the couch. You can see his cock tenting in his pants and you feel your slick trickling down your leg as you thought about having him deep inside you. 

Before you can stop yourself, you straddle his waist as your lips find his, your hands grabbing hold of his own as you move them to your hips, your hands sliding into his hair again as you fingers dig into his scalp, taking what you want from him as he’s pliant under your touch. 

You begin to grind against him and Eddie swears that he’s died and gone to heaven. And when your mouth lands on his neck and your lips suck on it-god, he’s going to come right there. He can feel it. He’s gonna let you do this all night if you want to, addicted to the feeling of your mouth on his neck. 

And he really does come when your teeth scrape along the sensitive spot, a loud moan falls from his lips as he orgasms for another person for the first time. And god is this so much better than all of the dates he’s had with his hand. 

“That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Just like that. You’re doing so good.” He’s realizing now that he has a major praise kink, wanting, needing you to do more of that.

“More,” he whines as you continue to grind against him, and that mixed with how you’re scandalizing his neck is making him overstimulated, but he hardly cares. He’s so high off of his orgasm that he doesn’t give a single fuck. In fact, he’ll let you do whatever you want to him, knowing that you’ll be gentle and caring the whole time. 

“Relax, baby. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, hm?” You pull away from him, your lip gloss smeared all across your face now. Eddie’s pupils are blown wide as he stares up at you, his head tilting to the side like a little puppy, giving you a full view of the hickey forming on his neck. “Gotta be a good boy for me if you want your treat.”

“I can be a good boy,” he nods furiously as his eyes get even wider, wanting to do whatever he can to please you. “I can be such a good boy you have no idea.” 

You continue to grind against as his fingers dig into the stripe of skin that had been exposed by your shirt riding up. Your hands move to the button of his jeans and you look up at him, making sure that it’s okay if you continue. 

“Do it,” he nods. “I trust you.” You can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth, but you have to be sure. You’d hate it if he was only telling you that because you wanted it. 

“You really want me to be your first?” You asked, your grinding coming to a halt as you looked him in the eyes, leaning closer to see if he was lying out not. 

“More than anything,” he replies, the words coming out more desperate than he intended, his eyes pleading as he looks up at you. They’re now filled with lust and now you know he’s telling the truth so your hands unbutton his jeans as he removes his shirt, his tattoos on display. God, he’s even hotter than you imagined. 

You remove yourself from him as his pants come off while you take off your socks and shoes, moving slowly as you catch how he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you whole. And god do you want him to. To bury his head between thighs and eat you for dinner until the early morning so he could have you for breakfast and all the way to lunch and then for dinner again. 

You then decide to give him a show, thinking that he’s earned a treat for being such a good boy. You begin stripping off your clothing as slowly as possible, starting with your pants, unzipping them then sliding them down your legs then tossing them to the side. 

You then move on to your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before moving to stand in front of Eddie, pointing to the couch cushion.

“Lie back,” you tell him and he situates himself to lie against the cushions of the couch and you feel yourself getting soaked as straddle his waist, watching him underneath you. He’s so shy and cute and you feel honored that you’re the one he wants to take this big step with. “I just want you to know that just because you give consent doesn’t mean you can’t take it away. If I do something you don’t like or if you want to stop because you’re not ready. Don’t be shy to let me know. I want you to feel safe,” your hand reaches up and caresses his face. “I want you to feel comfortable.”

“I understand,” he nods. “I-I appreciate you being so gentle with me.” 

“I’ll always be gentle with you,” you press a kiss to his lips. “Unless you as me not to,” you wink and swear you feel Eddie’s cock twitch against your cunt. 

“Take it off for me, will you baby?” You ask and his hands move higher until they reach the back of your bra and you can tell he’s struggling but he eventually gets it, the bra falling between you, your tits on display. Eddie’s staring at them and you don’t have to ask to know what he’s thinking. 

You remove yourself from him and hurry to your purse for a condom before taking off your panties and wait for him to do the same with his boxers. Once he’s fully naked, you can’t help but stare down at his cock, surprised by the sheer size of the thing. Who knew that Eddie Munon was packing? You certainly didn’t. 

“You’re so big,” you say as your hand wraps around him and he lets out a gasp. “Think it’s all gonna fit?” You ask and Eddie just gulps. “I guess we’ll have to find out,” you smirk. 

“Guess we will,” Eddie breathes and you let go of him, opening the condom and putting it on him before your hands rest on his shoulders as you get on top of him again, sinking slowly onto his cock, both of you letting out moans as you did so. 

His hands move to your waist as you ride him slowly, not wanting to do too much too fast since it’s his first time. Yours had been nothing but perfect as it had been with Billy. You still remember it like it had just happened even though it had been over two years ago. He was nothing but rough, only wanting to fuck you because he was obsessed with taking your virginity. Like he had a point to prove. And in typical Billy fashion, he didn’t care in the slightest if you enjoyed it, only trying to fulfill his own sick fantasy and that was it.

But with Eddie, you wanted to make sure that it was something he enjoyed, something he looked back on fondly whenever it came to mind. And even if he didn’t enjoy it and asked you to stop, you still hoped it worked out with whoever he had his first time with. 

He bucks his hips against yours and you can see on his face that he’s unsure if that’s what he’s supposed to be doing. But by the way you’re moaning and whining he thinks it is. He really doesn’t even know what he’s, just following what he had seen in movies and the occasional porn he had watched when he was sure that Wayne would be home late.

“That’s it baby,” you encourage. “Just like that, such a good boy.” Your words seem to unleash something in him because he’s bucking his hips as hard as he can, moving so fast that it’s hard for you to keep up. And it’s not because he wants to, not at all. It almost seemed like he had a point to prove, that he was trying to show you that he could do it hard. 

“Hey, hey,” you push him against the cushions, trying to get his attention. “Slow down, hon. What’s your rush?”

“I just-” he cuts himself off, bringing himself back down onto the cushion, his eyes widening as he’s realized that he’s been caught. “I’m just trying to keep up with Billy, I guess.” He says the words lamely and his voice is so small that you swear you can hear your heart actually break. 

“That’s what this is about? Eddie-” you try to gather your thoughts, one of your hands moving to stroke his hair. “Baby,” you sigh, lowering yourself onto him, resting your forehead against his. You feel a tear trail down your cheek and immediately wipe it away, not wanting him to see it, but he does anyway. 

He wipes the other one that follows then pulls you in for a tender kiss, his hands moving up and down your back gently as a way to soothe you. You realize then that you’ve finally found someone who cares about you. That cares enough to try and fuck you the way that you like it. 

“You’re so sweet,” you mumble against his lips before pulling away. “But that’s not how I like it.” Now you’re the one to shrink into yourself, feeling all of your feelings towards Billy piling up, eating away at you. 

Your stomach twists and before you can stop yourself, you’re off of him, gathering your clothes and getting dressed at record speed, Eddie hurrying to do the same, but he can only be bothered to put on his boxers. He’s so confused and hurt that now he’s the one who’s crying. God, he’s fucked up again.

Eddie’s hot on your heels as you get to the door, snot now running down his nose because of how much he’s crying. Why is everyone always leaving him? He really thought you’d finally be the one to stick, but he guesses he’s wrong. You’re just going to go back to Billy. He knows what he’s doing, after all. 

You hurry to your car and slam the door closed, hearing the mixtape he made for you blasting from the speakers. And just when he’s about to close the door, his eyes catch yours and even though he can’t see very well in the dark of the night, he swears that he can see you crying too. 

He slams the door to his trailer shut then hurries to his room, making sure that door is closed as well before he throws himself onto his bed, throwing the covers over himself as he cries himself to sleep. He’s so hurt that that’s all he knows what to do when he feels pain. His dad always told him that crying was for pussies and now that he wasn’t around, he could cry as he damn well pleased. 

So he stays like that for the rest of the night until he falls asleep, the events of the night replaying over and over as he tries to figure out what he had done wrong. He had done too much, that was for sure. He was just trying to do what he thought you liked and that caused you to leave. He had fucked up and fucked up bad. He knew that much. He was definitely going to remember his first time but not for the reasons he was hoping. He supposed that he really was just Eddie “the freak” Munson and that was something that would never change.

[enreveriee]

♫︎ FROM SCREENS TO SCENES | L.HS

IN WHICH: you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists. GENRE: fluff + crack , ᨓ , WARNING(S): pet names, kissing, cuddling, too much fluff, struggles of bringing online relationship offline, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything ┊ WORD COUNT: 12k masterlist

[RIRI’S NOTE ┈─★ I was too proud when I started to write but then towards the end I just wanted to hide because of embarrassment. I promise I'm gonna make a horror or supernatural fic for halloween since I feel like fluff is driving me crazy now TT]

taglist: @chexnluv , @iconchae, @wonwonpuffs , @sol3chu , @firstclassjaylee , @wensurr , @hoshieee , @academiq

YOU SAT CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, your phone resting comfortably in your hands, its soft glow reflecting off your smiling face. You could feel your cheeks warming as a small giggle escaped your lips, your heart fluttering as you stared down at the message thread from him. Even after two years of dating online, Heeseung still had this inexplicable effect on you—his words always managing to stir that giddy feeling in your chest. You tapped out a reply quickly, the excitement of the conversation making your fingers fly over the screen.

Just as you hit send, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, interrupting your blissful bubble. You quickly locked your phone and dropped it onto your lap, trying to appear casual, but you already knew it was too late.

“Still texting your hubby?” Semi’s voice called out from across the room, her teasing tone unmistakable. You glanced up just in time to see her strolling over with a mischievous grin, arms swinging at her sides. She plopped down next to you on the couch without hesitation, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it close to her chest. The way she eyed you was almost predatory—she had caught you red-handed, and she knew it.

Before you could even muster a response, Heesoo appeared right behind her, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, eyes gleaming with equal amusement. “Hubby, huh?” she chimed in, her voice smooth and knowing, as if the two had conspired together. She tilted her head, her brow quirking up as she let the word roll off her tongue like it was some sort of inside joke.

You could feel your face heat up instantly, a mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbling up in your chest as they watched you squirm. “He’s not my hubby,” you muttered, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, as if their teasing wasn’t getting to you. You fumbled to close your phone, clutching it tightly in your hands as if it could shield you from the embarrassment. The more you tried to act casual, the more you felt your nerves betray you—your fingers gripping the phone a little too tightly, your posture too stiff.

Semi shot you a side glance, raising her brows as if she didn’t believe a single word you just said. “Uh-huh, sure,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. Her lips quirked up into a sly smile as she nudged your arm, causing you to shift uncomfortably on the couch.

“Soon-to-be, then,” Heesoo added with a smirk, her voice dripping with playful confidence as she sauntered over. She stood in front of you now, hands resting casually on her hips, eyes narrowed like she was about to spill a secret you hadn’t even realized you were keeping.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “Oh, shut up,” you mumbled under your breath, sinking deeper into the cushions as if that could somehow protect you from their relentless teasing. Your words might have sounded dismissive, but the way your lips twitched at the corners betrayed the smile you were holding back.

They weren’t wrong, after all. You had been dating Heeseung for two years now—two years of late-night texts, playful banter, and heart-fluttering moments that made you feel like a teenager all over again. And yet, as much as you adored him, there was still that small detail you couldn’t ignore: you hadn’t met him in person yet. You had never even seen a clear picture of him, not beyond a couple of blurry selfies he’d sent over the years. Sure, they looked good—he looked good—but there was always that tiny, nagging thought in the back of your mind.

“Look at her,” Semi cooed, turning her head towards Heesoo as if to share the victory of seeing you squirm. “She’s blushing.”

You scoffed, running a hand over your face to hide the growing warmth in your cheeks. “I am not,” you protested, knowing full well that you were. The way they both stared at you, amused and smug, only made it worse.

Heesoo, always the bold one, plopped herself on the coffee table directly in front of you, folding her legs beneath her as she leaned forward with that signature teasing smirk. “What’s it gonna take for you to finally meet him, huh?” she asked, voice light but laced with curiosity. “You’ve been together for two years now. Doesn’t it feel like it’s time?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling their gazes burn into you as you struggled to come up with a decent excuse. “I mean, we’ve talked about it…” you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to sound convincing. Truth be told, the idea of meeting him did excite you, but it also made your stomach twist with nerves. What if he wasn’t what you expected? What if he didn’t like you in person? Those doubts, however small, had kept you from pushing the issue.

“Oh, please,” Semi cut in with a roll of her eyes, reaching over to lightly shove your shoulder. “If you’re nervous about it, just admit it. We all know you’re totally whipped for him.”

You sighed, letting your head fall back against the couch as you stared up at the ceiling, their laughter filling the room. “Fine,” you groaned, giving in to their teasing. “Maybe I’m a little nervous, okay?”

“A little?” Semi echoed, her tone full of playful disbelief. “Girl, you’re terrified.”

Heesoo grinned, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice softening just a little, “When you two finally meet, it’s gonna be perfect. And when it happens, we better be the first ones to know, got it?”

You smiled, your heart warming at their relentless support, even if it was wrapped in teasing. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll be the first to know.”

Semi’s gaze was sharp, fixated on you as if she was about to make the most important suggestion of the century. Her brow arched, curiosity and a hint of determination flashing in her eyes. “By the way,” she began, her voice deceptively casual but filled with the weight of her endless curiosity, “why don’t you just ask him to meet up already?”

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, chin propped up by her hands, fully expecting a detailed answer. Semi wasn’t just invested in your relationship with Heeseung—no, she was very, very, very invested. In fact, ever since you mentioned Heeseung, she’d turned into your personal dating detective, always nudging you with questions and advice as if it were her own love life on the line.

You let out a small laugh, nervously shifting under her scrutiny. “Yeah… I mean, I’ve thought about it,” you mumbled, eyes darting down to your phone, the little weight of doubt creeping up on you.

Heesoo, who had been lazily sprawled out on the opposite couch, suddenly let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, her hand dramatically flopping onto her forehead like a character straight out of a soap opera. “Exactly,” she muttered, rolling her eyes for extra effect. “You're not even part of the #hatemenclub anymore, so why not?” Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm, and she shot you a sideways glance, clearly enjoying every second of her role in this drama.

The #hatemenclub. A relic from your high school days—the sacred pact you three made to never, ever fall into the trap of romance. It had been a joking sort of vow, born out of teenage cynicism and a few too many bad rom-coms. And yet, somehow, it stuck. Or at least, it stuck for them.

You, however, had found a loophole: Heeseung. The moment you told them about him, they had teased you endlessly, threatening to kick you out of the “club,” but that day never came. It became more of a running joke now, how you were the only one who had managed to “break the rules” without suffering the consequences.

“I’m still in the club, though,” you tried to defend, your voice soft as you fidgeted with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “If we, uh, exclude Heeseung, I mean.”

Semi let out a loud snort, barely managing to stifle her laughter as she nudged you with her elbow. “Yeah, okay, if we exclude Heeseung,” she mimicked, raising her hands in air quotes before leaning back with a knowing smirk. “You’re so still in the club.”

Heesoo rolled her eyes again, this time in a way that felt almost second nature to her. She sat up straighter, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she gave you the most unimpressed look. “Oh, c’mon,” she said, her voice laced with mock exasperation. “You can’t possibly still think you’re in the #hatemenclub after dating a guy for two years.”

You sighed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as the two of them continued their relentless teasing. “I’m serious! I’ll—” you paused, feeling the weight of their teasing eyes on you, “I’ll try. I just… I need to ask him first.”

There was a nervous edge to your voice, and you knew they both picked up on it instantly. Your fingers twirled the fabric of your blanket between them, your mind racing with the thought of actually asking Heeseung to meet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet him—it was that, despite everything, the idea still made your stomach flip in a thousand knots.

Meeting him felt like the culmination of two years of virtual feelings—two years of inside jokes, late-night conversations, and building something you couldn’t quite explain. What if reality didn’t match the fantasy?

Semi’s eyes softened for a moment as she watched your nervous fidgeting, though her playful smirk never fully disappeared. “You’ve got this,” she said, her tone light but encouraging, as if this was some grand mission you had to complete. “Just ask him! What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glanced up at her, catching the sparkle of sincerity hidden beneath her teasing. It was rare for Semi to offer advice without an accompanying joke, and you appreciated it more than you’d ever admit out loud.

Heesoo, meanwhile, wasn’t about to let up that easily. She scooted closer, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her face now mere inches from yours. “Exactly,” she added, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “And when he says yes—and we all know he will—we get to hear all the juicy details first. Don’t even think about hiding anything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head as you playfully shoved her away. “I’m not hiding anything!” you protested, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

“Mm-hmm,” Heesoo hummed, raising an eyebrow as if to say she didn’t quite believe you. “We’ll see about that.”

The banter continued, filling the room with laughter and lighthearted teasing as you tried, and failed, to convince them you were still a proud member of the #hatemenclub. But deep down, as you glanced at your phone and reread Heeseung’s latest message, the butterflies stirred again. Maybe it was time to take that next step. Maybe… just maybe, they were right.

For now, you could enjoy the moment—surrounded by the warmth of your best friends and the soft glow of your phone, where Heeseung’s name sat waiting.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY COME, and your heart was racing with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. You had spent hours preparing, trying to make sure you looked as pretty as possible. Not too much makeup, but just enough to give you a soft, girly look. Your outfit was carefully chosen, a delicate dress that gave off casual yet charming vibes. You didn’t want to overwhelm him, but you also didn’t want to underwhelm, either.

As you approached the small restaurant you had both agreed on, you paused outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath. The place was cozy, not too fancy, which was perfect since you didn’t want to feel out of place. The fact that it wasn’t crowded was a relief, too—no need for unnecessary pressure.

You opened your phone, fingers shaking slightly as you typed out the message, “Baby, I arrived. Where are you?”

Not even a minute later, the reply popped up on your screen, and you smiled. He’s here.

“I’m wearing a blue shirt, it’s the seat in the corner.”

Your heart did a little flip as you looked around the restaurant, scanning for that blue shirt. And then you saw him, sitting by himself in the far corner of the room, casually leaning back in his chair, glancing at his phone. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you approached, trying to calm the butterflies swirling in your stomach. But something felt off as you got closer. His face—it didn’t quite match the picture.

Sure, the picture he sent had been blurry, but this guy… he looked different. More handsome, yes, but different. You hesitated, standing awkwardly near the table for a second, your mind spinning with doubts. Was this really him?

“Umm... you’re Heeseung, right?” you asked, your voice sounding more timid than you’d hoped. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the feeling gnawed at you.

The guy glanced up from his phone, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, you must be Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. There was no hint of hesitation in his tone, as if he hadn’t noticed your uncertainty at all.

You felt a small pit of confusion in your stomach. The voice matched. The name matched. But his face... why did he look so different from what you imagined? You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been catfished—by a ridiculously handsome guy, no less. It didn’t make sense, but the thought was there, lurking in the back of your mind.

You opened your mouth to ask about the photo, to try and figure out the discrepancy, but he cut you off before you could even get the words out. “Can we order first?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes flickering toward the menu on the table.

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden shift in conversation. “Uhh… sure,” you muttered, feeling slightly deflated. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to put the awkwardness on hold, but the unease in your chest lingered. He hadn’t even addressed the fact that he looked so different from the picture. Why was he avoiding it?

You glanced down at the menu, but your mind wasn’t really on food. Instead, your eyes kept flickering back to him. His messy hair, styled just enough to look effortlessly good, caught your attention. His features were sharp, his jawline defined. He had this boyish charm about him that made you want to melt right there in the chair.

He’s so much more handsome in person, you thought to yourself, almost feeling embarrassed at the realization. But that made everything more confusing. Why wouldn’t he just send a proper picture? It didn’t add up.

Heeseung glanced up from his own menu, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, feeling a flush of heat rush to your cheeks. It was like being thrown back into the early days of your online relationship, back when every text from him made your heart race. Except now, you were sitting across from him, and it felt… real.

Too real.

But the unease was still there. You fiddled with the edge of the napkin in your lap, trying to figure out how to ask the question without sounding paranoid. Your mind raced through a dozen different possibilities. Old photo? Bad camera quality?

“So... about that picture you sent,” you finally managed to say, your voice soft, testing the waters. You lifted your gaze to meet his again, trying to keep your expression neutral.

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying your face, but before you could get any further, he leaned back in his chair with a casual smile. “Yeah, I know, the picture wasn’t the best,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in that effortless way guys always do. “I’m not great with selfies.”

The way he said it made you pause. He didn’t seem fazed at all by your question, almost as if he expected it. His easygoing demeanor threw you off, and for a moment, you felt silly for even doubting him. Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Ahh,” you nodded slowly, trying to hide the relief creeping in. “I guess that makes sense.”

He gave you a smile, and suddenly, the awkwardness started to melt away. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, but the butterflies in your stomach shifted from nervous to something lighter. You glanced down at the menu again, pretending to be interested in the food, but your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of him—this real, handsome Heeseung sitting in front of you.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him. His hair, the way it fell just slightly over his forehead, his relaxed posture, the way his fingers tapped idly against the table. You felt a tiny smile tug at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how you imagined it, but something about this moment—awkward and all—felt right.

And the butterflies? Well, they were still there. But now, they were dancing a little differently.

As you stared down at the menu, the words began to blur together. The pressure of the moment was getting to you, and suddenly, nothing made sense. You hadn’t expected to freeze like this—after all, how hard could it be to choose something off a menu? But the truth was, this was your first time at the restaurant, and the foreign names of the dishes only added to your mounting anxiety.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as the waiter approached your table, notepad in hand. Your heart began to race, and the butterflies, which had been fluttering harmlessly before, now felt like a storm of nerves. What if I order the wrong thing? What if he thinks I’m weird?

Just as you were about to blurt out something—anything—your panic was cut short by the gentle sensation of a hand grasping yours. You blinked in surprise, eyes widening as you looked up from the menu to see Heeseung’s hand resting over yours on the table, his fingers curling lightly around yours. The warmth of his touch sent a calming wave through you, as if he could feel your nervousness and knew exactly how to soothe it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in the most subtle, comforting way. You couldn’t help but feel your pulse slow down just a little, the chaos inside you quieting as he gave you a small, understanding smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ve got you.

He let out a soft sigh, as if he knew this was overwhelming for you, and then, without skipping a beat, he turned to the waiter. “We’ll have the grilled salmon for her,” he said confidently, his tone polite but decisive. “And I’ll take the steak, medium rare, please.”

The way he ordered without hesitation, without even needing to ask what you wanted, left you absolutely stunned. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a second, your mind racing to catch up. It took a moment for it to sink in—he had remembered. He had remembered what you liked, something you had mentioned casually during one of your countless late-night conversations online. Something so small, so fleeting, and yet, here he was, recalling it with such ease as if it had always been on his mind.

As the waiter walked away, you were left speechless, the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults now for an entirely different reason. You hadn’t just lucked out with a handsome guy—you had hit the jackpot.

Sitting across from you was the same Heeseung you’d spent the last two years talking to, laughing with, dreaming about. Only now, he was real, and somehow, better than you had imagined. The boy you’d only known through texts and blurry pictures was suddenly flesh and blood, and he was everything—handsome, cute, charming, thoughtful—and all yours.

“Did you really just… remember that?” you asked softly, still a bit in awe, your hand still tingling from his touch. You tried to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it was impossible. The butterflies had taken over now, and all you could feel was that giddy, almost dizzying sense of affection.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, shrugging slightly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Of course. It’s not like you ever shut up about how much you love salmon,” he teased, his voice light and playful. He smirked a little, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d surprised you.

You felt a laugh bubble up from your chest, shaking your head at how effortlessly he put you at ease. “Well… maybe I mentioned it once or twice,” you admitted, a playful edge creeping into your voice.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside of your little bubble seemed to disappear. The way he was looking at you—like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had—made your heart race all over again. It was as if everything you had built over the last two years was now culminating in this one perfect evening.

Before you could lose yourself entirely in the moment, the waiter reappeared, placing your plates down in front of you. The delicious aroma of the food filled the air, but your attention was still on Heeseung. Even as the waiter left, you barely glanced at your food, too caught up in the way he smiled at you across the table.

He picked up his fork, but before he dug into his steak, he gave you a knowing look. “You’re still staring at me,” he pointed out with a chuckle, his voice dripping with that teasing affection that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, flustered, quickly picking up your own fork to hide the fact that, yes, you had been completely lost in thought. “I’m not staring!” you protested, though the blush on your cheeks probably gave you away. You poked at your salmon, trying to focus, but your thoughts were still a mess of emotions—excitement, disbelief, and that growing sense of affection that felt even stronger now that he was here, in front of you.

Heeseung laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sure, sure,” he said, clearly not believing you. “But, you know, I kind of like it.” He shot you a wink, and just like that, the butterflies were back in full force, making your heart do flips all over again.

THE DOOR TO YOUR SHARED ROOM HADN'T EVEN FULLY CLOSED BEHIND YOU WHEN, Semi popped out from behind her desk like a rabbit springing from its burrow. Her eyes were wide with excitement, her whole body practically vibrating with curiosity. You should’ve expected it—Semi was never one to wait for gossip, especially when it concerned something as juicy as your first offline date with Heeseung.

“So, so, so—how did it go?” she asked, her voice pitched high with enthusiasm as she bounced on her toes. It was like she’d been holding in all her questions for hours, just waiting for you to walk through that door. You hadn’t even had a chance to put your bag down before she was in front of you, blocking your path, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a sigh, you dropped onto your bed, letting the soft mattress swallow you up for a second. “We talked and ate,” you muttered, trying to play it cool. The truth was, the date had left your heart in shambles, but you weren’t ready to share every detail just yet. You needed a moment to process it all, to figure out how you felt now that the boy you’d been dating for two years online had finally become more than just a name on your phone.

Semi, however, wasn’t about to let you off that easily. She let out an exaggerated scoff, folding her arms over her chest as she stared down at you, her brows raised in disbelief. “Only that? No kisses? No hugs? Nothing?” Her tone was mockingly disappointed, and she threw her hands up in the air as if you had committed the gravest sin by not locking lips with him. “I expected more from you, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was our first time meeting offline,” you said, your voice defensive as you sat up slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Give me a break. We needed to, you know, talk like normal people first.”

But Semi wasn’t buying it. She huffed, plopping down beside you on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, but you’ve literally been dating for two years,” she stressed, leaning in closer with that signature mischievous grin of hers. “You’d think you two would’ve been all over each other by now!”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at her words. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but still—it was overwhelming enough to finally see Heeseung in person, to hear his voice without the filter of a screen between you. The thought of doing anything more intimate, in public no less, felt like it would’ve sent your nervous system into a complete shutdown.

“Heeseung's not… he’s not like that,” you muttered, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to deflect. But Semi, ever persistent, was already on to her next question.

“So, was he cute though?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows with a teasing smile. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she poked your arm, clearly enjoying how flustered you were becoming. She knew you too well—knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You cleared your throat, trying to muster up a calm, composed response. “He looked…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put into words just how ridiculously handsome he had been. The way his messy hair framed his face, the effortless confidence in the way he carried himself, the warmth in his eyes that had made your heart race all over again—it was almost too much to describe.

But before you could finish, Semi leaned in even closer, practically vibrating with excitement. “He looked what?” she teased, her voice dragging out the question. “Handsome? Gorgeous? Like a total heartthrob?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Okay, fine!” you finally relented, your voice muffled through your palms. “He’s really handsome, okay? Like… ridiculously handsome. But—” You lifted your head to glare playfully at her. “Don’t make me sound like I’m simping for him.”

Semi let out a loud, satisfied laugh, clapping her hands together as if she had won some unspoken game. “Oh my God,” she giggled, leaning back onto her elbows with a grin so wide it practically lit up the room. “You totally are simping for him! Admit it, Y/N!”

You felt a flood of butterflies at her words. Maybe she was right. Maybe you were simping a little. But could you really blame yourself? You’d spent two years falling for Heeseung’s charm through a screen, and now that you’d finally met him in person, it felt like all of those feelings were amplified tenfold.

Still, you weren’t about to let Semi get the last word. With a playful roll of your eyes, you grabbed one of your pillows and lightly swatted her with it. “Alright, alright, enough!” you said, trying to suppress your own laughter. “Yes, he’s cute. Yes, I like him. Happy now?”

Semi dodged the pillow with a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she stood up from the bed and made her way back to her desk. “Oh, I’m more than happy,” she said, smirking as she glanced over her shoulder at you. “But the real question is—when are you gonna kiss him?”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately threw the pillow at her again, missing by a mile. “Semi!”

She cackled, her laughter filling the room as you both dissolved into fits of giggles. And even as you buried your face in your hands again, cheeks burning with embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little more excited about what was to come.

But then, your phone buzzed in your hand. The screen lit up with Heeseung’s name, and immediately, a surge of excitement and nervousness hit you like a wave. Your heart skipped a beat, but then you froze. Semi was still there, and you knew her well enough to know that she would pounce on any opportunity to tease you mercilessly if she saw Heeseung’s name on your phone.

You glanced at her, quickly assessing your options. The playful glint in her eyes already hinted that she was curious. There was no way you'd have a peaceful conversation with him if she was around.

With a sigh, you shot her a glance. “I’ll go take this call,” you said, casually waving your phone as if it were nothing. “It must be a job offer.”

The lie came out so smoothly that even you were shocked by how easily it slipped off your tongue. Semi didn’t question it either, though she narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a second before shrugging and turning her attention back to her phone.

Relieved, you swiftly exited the room, pulling the door behind you as quietly as possible to ensure she wouldn’t follow. Once out of the room, you made your way down the hallway, trying to find a quiet spot where you could talk to him in peace. With one last look over your shoulder to confirm you weren’t being spied on, you finally pressed the phone to your ear.

“H-hello?” you stammered slightly, your voice a bit softer than usual. The weight of knowing what he looked like in person now—it made this whole conversation feel different, heavier, in a way that made your heart race.

“Hey,” Heeseung’s familiar voice greeted you from the other end, and the sound immediately sent a rush of warmth through your chest. “You home?”

You hesitated for a second, quickly glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “J-just reached,” you finally responded, trying to keep your voice steady, though the nervousness crept into your tone. Now that you knew what he looked like—his real face, the way his smile tugged at the corners of his lips—it was harder to keep your composure.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “What about you?” you asked, attempting to regain some control over your fluttering heart.

“I reached too,” he said simply, though the awkwardness in his voice was undeniable. It wasn’t the same as it had been before you’d met him. Something had shifted. Maybe this was how online couples felt after meeting for the first time—unsure of how to navigate the new dynamic, the new reality of knowing the person behind the screen in a way you hadn’t before.

You leaned against the cool wall in the hallway, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out what to say next. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions—Did you have fun? Did I make a good impression? Will we meet again? But none of those questions made it past your lips.

Instead, you both lingered in the silence, the awkwardness palpable but not entirely uncomfortable. It was almost endearing in a way, knowing that you both felt the same jittery nerves after your first offline date.

“So, um… are we gonna keep doing this?” you finally asked, your voice quiet, but the question was bold enough to fill the space between you. “Meeting up offline, I mean?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “I hope so,” he said, his tone soft but filled with sincerity. “I liked seeing you in person.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you smiled to yourself, feeling the butterflies you thought had calmed down stir up again. The simple statement carried so much more weight now that you had shared a meal together, exchanged shy glances, and actually existed in the same space, side by side.

“Me too,” you whispered, almost as if admitting it out loud would somehow make the moment more real. And in that moment, as awkward as it was, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new—something that stretched beyond the screen, into the real world where you both could truly be together.

The silence returned, but this time, it was softer, more comfortable, as if the awkwardness had melted away, leaving behind a warmth that lingered long after the call would end.

“I guess… I’ll talk to you later?” you said after a beat, your voice lighter now, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But not too much later, okay?”

You laughed softly, feeling the last bit of tension slip away. “Not too much later,” you promised, before finally hanging up, the warmth of his voice still lingering in your chest as you walked back to your room.

The moment you stepped back into the room, Semi was there, perched on her bed, looking like she had been waiting for this exact moment. Her arms were crossed, and that mischievous grin was unmistakable—she wasn’t buying your ‘job offer’ story for a second.

“So…” she dragged the word out, her eyes narrowing playfully as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “Was that really a job offer?”

You sighed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you tried to avoid eye contact. "Yeah, sure, let's call it that," you muttered, slipping your phone into your pocket as you moved towards your bed, hoping she'd let it go. But you knew better—Semi was never one to back off when there was potential for gossip, especially when it involved your love life.

She let out a dramatic scoff. “Come on, you can’t fool me. You were talking to Heeseung, weren’t you?” She jumped up from her bed, practically bouncing over to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Tell me everything—what did he say? Did he ask to meet up again? Were you blushing the entire time like you are now?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as you felt the heat in your cheeks deepen. “It wasn’t anything special, okay?” you mumbled through your hands, though you knew your attempt to downplay the call wouldn’t work. “We just… talked about getting home, that’s all.”

Semi was relentless, of course. “Uh-huh, sure,” she teased, pulling your hands away from your face so she could get a proper look at you. “You’re totally hiding something. I can see it! You’ve got that weird ‘I just talked to my crush’ glow. Did he say something cute? Oh my god, he did, didn’t he?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily she read you, and finally, you gave in, sitting down on your bed with a defeated sigh. “Fine, fine. He was sweet, okay? It was just a normal conversation, but it felt… I don’t know. Different now, I guess?”

Semi raised an eyebrow, sitting beside you with her full attention. “Different how?” she asked, her voice softer now, less teasing and more curious.

“Well,” you began, thinking back to the way Heeseung’s voice had sounded over the phone, a mix of awkwardness and warmth. “It’s just… after seeing him in person, everything feels a little more real, you know? Like, all this time we’ve been talking online, but now it’s not just a screen between us anymore. I’ve actually met him, and it’s… weird but in a good way?”

Semi grinned. “So, you’re saying you’re falling even harder for him now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I mean, he’s really cute in person,” you admitted, your heart fluttering just at the thought of how Heeseung had looked when you met. “And he remembered what I liked to eat, which was unexpected and kind of… sweet.”

Semi gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she were swooning. “He remembered your favorite food? Oh, girl, you’ve hit the jackpot!” She nudged you playfully, her excitement infectious. “What’s next, huh? When’s your next date? Are we already planning the wedding?”

You laughed, shoving her lightly. “Calm down! We haven’t even planned a second date yet.”

“But you will,” she said, her grin widening as if she were already planning everything out in her head. “I mean, how could you not? You’ve been talking to this guy for two years, and now that you’ve met in person, the sparks are basically flying!”

You blushed again, but this time, it wasn’t just because of the teasing. Semi wasn’t wrong. Something had shifted, and the idea of seeing Heeseung again now that you’d met face-to-face made your heart race in the best way possible.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said softly, feeling a bit shy as you thought about it. “I guess we’ll see what happens. But yeah… I think I’d like to see him again.”

Semi squealed, throwing her arms around you in a sudden hug. “Yay! I’m so happy for you! My best friend is getting married!”

“Stop!” you protested, laughing as you wriggled out of her embrace. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet,” she echoed, wagging her eyebrows at you. “But soon, I bet.”

YOU STOOD AT THE ENTRANCE OF HEESEUNG'S APARTMENT, clutching the bouquet of flowers nervously. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and a million thoughts rushed through your head. Was this really a good idea? Going to a guy’s place you had only met offline once? What if he turned out to be… well, something out of a true crime story? Your mind raced with irrational fears, imagining worst-case scenarios, but then you shook your head.

No, it’s Heeseung, you reminded yourself. The same guy you’d been talking to for two years. The guy who remembered your favorite food and texted you goodnight religiously. You weren’t going to let a silly rush of nerves ruin this. Besides, wasn’t this the next step? Taking things from the screen to real life?

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button for his apartment number. A small buzz rang through, followed by a few agonizing moments of silence until you heard footsteps approaching from the other side. When the door finally swung open, you were greeted with the sight of Heeseung, looking as relaxed as ever. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts, the definition of casual, but somehow he still looked like he had stepped straight out of a magazine photoshoot.

You blinked for a second, momentarily stunned. When did you become such a simp?

“Come in, please,” Heeseung’s voice broke through your thoughts. His smile was warm and welcoming, and before you could even process what was happening, he was taking the bouquet from your hands.

“Crap—wait, I mean—this is for you!” you stammered, awkwardly snatching the flowers back only to hand them to him again. The exchange was so clumsy that you both burst into laughter, the tension easing ever so slightly.

"You really didn’t have to," he said softly, holding the flowers as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

“I did have to,” you insisted, your voice sheepish. “It’s my first time here. Showing up empty-handed just felt… wrong.”

Heeseung chuckled at your seriousness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned down and pinched your cheeks lightly. “You sound just like you do online,” he teased, flashing that signature smile that made your heart race.

“Hey, quit it,” you protested weakly, swatting his hand away, but the blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. You were still getting used to seeing him in person, but that didn’t stop the familiar warmth from spreading through your chest at his touch.

The two of you stood there, just outside his apartment, for what felt like longer than necessary. It wasn’t until Heeseung cleared his throat that you realized you were still blocking the doorway.

“Right, shoes off,” you mumbled to yourself, quickly stepping out of your sneakers as you followed him inside. His apartment was small but cozy, with a lived-in feel that made you instantly relax. You noticed a few potted plants by the window, a couple of books scattered across the coffee table, and a faint scent of something familiar—ramen?—lingering in the air.

You perched yourself on his couch, feeling a little too aware of your movements as you sat down. The cushions were soft, and the space felt intimate. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to focus on anything but your own nerves. From the corner of your eye, you could see Heeseung moving about in the kitchen, preparing something.

After a few minutes, he returned with two steaming bowls of ramen, setting them down on the table in front of you. "Sorry, I didn’t have time to prepare anything fancy,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Hope this is okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest unraveling at how normal it all felt. “Are you kidding? This is perfect,” you reassured him, reaching for the chopsticks. “Nothing beats instant ramen, especially when you’re too lazy to cook.”

Heeseung laughed along with you, sitting down next to you on the couch. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. It was nice. Comfortable. Almost like the two of you had done this a hundred times before.

He turned on a movie—some romantic comedy you’d both agreed on—and as the opening credits rolled, you found yourself stealing glances at him. The way he absentmindedly blew on his ramen before taking a bite, his brow furrowed in concentration like it was the most important task in the world. He was so focused, so natural, and it made you smile without even realizing it.

But when you dared to look over again, you caught him doing the same—his eyes already on you. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, chopsticks hovering in mid-air, before quickly looking away, your cheeks burning.

You could hear him chuckle softly beside you, and that only made you blush harder. It was awkward, but in the most endearing way. You were both adjusting to this new reality, trying to navigate the uncharted waters of an offline relationship.

The movie played in the background, but neither of you paid much attention to it. The real entertainment was the silent communication happening between the two of you—the subtle glances, the shy smiles, the way your knees brushed against each other accidentally, and how neither of you moved away afterward.

You took another bite of ramen, trying to focus on the noodles instead of the fluttering in your stomach, but it was impossible to ignore how close Heeseung was. Every time he shifted slightly or laughed at something in the movie, your heart skipped a beat.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself glancing at him again—only this time, you caught him looking at you too. This time, instead of looking away, you both just… stayed like that. His eyes softened, and for a brief moment, the world outside of this small, cozy apartment disappeared.

It was just you and him, sharing an awkward, silly, but undeniably romantic second date in the simplest way possible. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this content, this happy. And as Heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, you couldn’t help but think that this—this quiet, unspoken connection—was worth every bit of awkwardness.

Maybe this offline thing wasn’t so bad after all.

But then you were proven wrong yet again as a sharp sting of the hot ramen hitting your skin made you gasp as you shot up from your seat, dropping the cup back onto the table. “Ow…” you winced, instinctively pulling at your shirt where the soup had splashed. The yellow-ish broth stained your top instantly, spreading in a not-so-fashionable blotch across your chest. Your heart sank.

Before you could even process the situation, Heeseung had already grabbed a glass of water from the table and, in a flash, poured it over the stained area, dousing you in the process.

You froze, eyes wide in disbelief as the cold water seeped through your shirt. “What… what are you doing?” you squeaked, half laughing, half mortified.

“I—I thought it would help cool it down!" Heeseung stammered, his eyes wide with genuine panic, clearly unsure if he'd done the right thing. “Are you okay? Did it burn you badly?”

You blinked a few times, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. The date had gone from mildly awkward to full-blown disaster in a matter of seconds. "I’m fine... just soaked." You looked down at the mess of ramen and water now pooled on the floor and clinging to your ruined shirt. Embarrassment surged through you like a wave.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled, your voice small as you glanced up at him, your cheeks burning.

Heeseung, however, didn’t seem fazed at all by the chaos. In fact, a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t be. It’s not your fault. It happens. We’re good.”

You bit your lip, still feeling like a complete klutz. “But... I ruined the date.”

Heeseung stepped closer, gently placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “Hey, it’s just ramen. I’m not mad. Accidents happen. Besides," he added, his lips curling into a playful smile, "it’s kinda memorable, don’t you think?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but the tight knot of embarrassment in your stomach refused to ease. “Yeah, memorable as in me looking like a complete mess.”

His eyes softened as he squeezed your hand. “You don’t look like a mess. But… you should probably change. It must be super uncomfortable.” He winced, eyeing your soaked shirt.

You glanced down at your shirt, the bright orange stain glaring back at you, and let out a resigned sigh. “Yeah… this isn't exactly ideal.”

“Wait here. I’ll grab you something,” Heeseung said before quickly heading toward his bedroom. He disappeared for a moment, rummaging around, and you stood awkwardly, trying not to feel like a complete fool. The entire scene played in your head on repeat. Could this date have gone any worse? First, the awkwardness of meeting offline, now this?

Heeseung returned, holding out a neatly folded oversized t-shirt. “Here, it might be a little big, but it’ll be more comfortable than a wet, ramen-soaked top.”

You hesitated, looking between him and the shirt. It felt weird to wear his clothes, but then again, what choice did you have? You took it from him with a shy smile. “Thanks…”

“Bathroom’s that way,” he gestured toward the hallway, scratching the back of his neck. “Take your time.”

You nodded and walked toward the bathroom, feeling a bit self-conscious as you clutched the t-shirt to your chest. Once inside, you peeled off your wet shirt, the smell of ramen clinging to the fabric. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment. How had you managed to turn such a simple date into a complete disaster?

Pulling Heeseung’s oversized t-shirt over your head, you were surprised at how soft and comfortable it was. It smelled faintly like him—clean and warm, with a hint of cologne. You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your chest at the thought of wearing his clothes. It was oddly intimate.

You took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the living room where Heeseung was waiting. As soon as he saw you, his eyes widened, and a deep blush crept up his neck to his cheeks.

“What? Is it bad?” you asked, feeling your face heat up under his gaze.

Heeseung shook his head quickly, though he seemed a little lost for words. “No, no... you look... you look really cute,” he mumbled, his voice dropping a notch as he rubbed the back of his neck again. The sight of you in his oversized t-shirt had clearly caught him off guard.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. “Oh…” was all you managed to say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and something else—something warm that spread from your chest to your cheeks.

“Sorry, I mean, I didn’t expect—uh—anyway, you’re good, right?” Heeseung cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject to save both of you from further awkwardness.

You nodded, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt. “Yeah, this is… way better, thank you.” You paused, biting your lip before adding, “Sorry again for ruining the date.”

Heeseung shook his head, stepping closer to you, his expression soft. “Y/N, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s just ramen, seriously. Besides…” He smiled, his voice growing softer, “I kind of like this. It feels real. I mean, we’ve been talking for two years, but this... this is different. It’s nice.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and suddenly, the awkwardness of the situation didn’t feel so bad anymore. You met his eyes, feeling a warmth settle between the two of you. Maybe this date wasn’t perfect, but it was real. It was messy, and awkward, and human.

And somehow, that made it feel right.

“Okay,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.”

Heeseung grinned, his dimple showing as he teased, “Besides, you still owe me another date. One without any ramen casualties.”

You laughed, feeling the tension lift. “Deal. But next time, no ramen.”

“Deal,” he repeated, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at you in his t-shirt. “But you might have to keep that shirt. It looks too good on you.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, the embarrassment was replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

“I should leave,” you muttered, letting out a heavy sigh as the reality of the night settled in.

“Already?” Heeseung asked, a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. The look on his face tugged at your heart, a mix of longing and vulnerability that made it hard to stand your ground.

“It’s getting late,” you said softly, though the truth was that you didn’t want to leave—not yet. The air between you was charged, electric with the unspoken feelings that had been simmering just beneath the surface. You hesitated at the door, your hand resting on the knob, knowing this moment was slipping away.

But just as you were about to step outside, you felt Heeseung’s warm hand gently but firmly grasp your wrist, pulling you back into the cozy space of his apartment. Your back hit the wall softly, and the breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, surprise etched on your features.

“W-what are you…?” you stammered, your heart racing.

His expression mirrored your own, a blend of nervousness and determination. “Can we—can we kiss before you leave? It’s okay if you refuse, after all, we’ve just…”

His words faded as you nodded, the fluttering of your heart drowning out any hesitation. The tension between you felt palpable, hanging in the air like a fragile bubble ready to burst. He didn’t need another invitation; he was leaning closer, and in an instant, your lips met.

You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, cradling you as he kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as you leaned into him, surrendering to the moment.

It was everything you had dreamt of—sweet, passionate, and full of an unspoken promise. His lips moved against yours, gentle yet urgent, a blend of longing and affection. The world outside faded away; it was just the two of you, lost in each other.

As he pulled away, a thin line of saliva connected your mouths, a testament to the fervor of your kiss. Your foreheads rested together, both of you gasping for breath, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close as if he were afraid to let go.

“You taste… sweet,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“But we just ate spicy ramen,” you replied, a soft laugh escaping your lips, mingling with the lightness of the moment.

“True,” he conceded, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But your lips taste sweet.”

“Stop,” you muttered, the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands, shyly hiding from his gaze. The reality of what had just happened washed over you, mixing exhilaration with a wave of shyness that made your heart race all over again.

Heeseung chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he urged gently, reaching out to pull your hands away from your face. His fingers brushed against your skin, a tender caress that sent shivers down your spine. “You okay?”

You nodded, a shy smile peeking through your hands as you met his eyes, the warmth of his gaze melting away your insecurities. “Yeah, just… that was unexpected.”

“Unexpected, but good, right?” Heeseung said, his voice low and sincere, a small grin lighting up his face. “Because I was definitely expecting it to be the highlight of my night.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sweetness of the moment flooding your senses. “Yeah, definitely a highlight,” you echoed softly, and the sincerity in your voice made him smile even wider.

“Then how about a second round? Before you leave?” Heeseung teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Just making sure we make the most of the time we have,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

THE DAY YOU KNEW WAS COMING HAD FINALLY ARRIVED — Heeseung was about to meet your two best friends, Semi and Heesoo. And while Semi had been excited to finally get a face-to-face with your boyfriend, Heesoo had expressed nothing but suspicion. After all, dating online for two years and only seeing each other in person for a few months? It was enough to make her raise an eyebrow—and ask questions. Lots of questions.

You sat in a cozy corner of a bustling café, the soft hum of conversations and clinking cups providing a calming background, though it didn’t do much to ease the nervous flutter in your stomach. You stole a glance at Heeseung, sitting beside you, his posture a little too stiff as he absentmindedly traced the rim of his cup with his finger. He was trying to act cool, but you could tell he was feeling the pressure.

On the other side of the table, Semi and Heesoo sat like the unofficial board of inquiry. Semi was leaning forward with a grin that made her look like she was ready to pounce on Heeseung with curiosity, while Heesoo leaned back, arms crossed, her sharp gaze already sizing him up. It was like a scene from a movie—only this time, it was your boyfriend in the hot seat.

Semi was the first to break the ice, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she propped her chin on her hand. “Soo… Heeseung,” she began, drawing out his name playfully, “we’ve heard a lot about you. But you know how it is—we’ve gotta see for ourselves. So, first things first—what’s your love language? Is it words of affirmation? Acts of service? And—be honest—have you ever written her a love letter?”

Heeseung blinked, clearly taken off guard by the unexpected question, but a smile soon crept onto his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Love language? Uh, I’d say physical touch… and maybe quality time. But, uh, no love letters yet. I’m more of a... text message kind of guy.”

Semi’s grin widened. “Text message? Oh, come on! What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever texted her, then? Like, we’re talking Shakespearean levels of swoon-worthy.”

You stifled a laugh, burying your face in your hands as Heeseung scratched his head, looking almost bashful. “Well, I don’t know about Shakespeare… but I did once write her this really cheesy line about how her smile makes my heart race.”

Semi let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her heart as if she were swooning. “Oh my god, Heeseung! How do you even deal with all that smoothness, huh?” she teased, turning to you with a wink.

You could feel your face heat up, and you nudged her playfully. “Stop, you’re making him blush!”

But Semi wasn’t done yet. “Alright, real talk now—what’s her weirdest habit that you’ve noticed since meeting in person? Spill it, we won’t tell.”

Heeseung chuckled, his body relaxing slightly as the conversation started to take a lighter turn. “Weirdest habit? Hm… she talks in her sleep. Like, full-on conversations. The first time I heard it, I thought she was awake, but nope. Just dreaming.”

You shot Heeseung a mock glare, covering your face in embarrassment. “Heeseung!”

Semi burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “That is so cute! What does she say? Is she giving TED talks in her sleep or something?”

Heeseung laughed along, shaking his head. “I wish. Usually, it’s just random stuff about food or… her phone charger. One time she asked me if I could ‘bring her the moon,’ and I had no idea if I should answer or not.”

You groaned, hiding behind your hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Heeseung grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in close to you. “Because it’s adorable, that’s why.”

Before you could protest further, Heesoo, who had been quietly observing, finally cleared her throat, signaling it was her turn. She straightened in her seat, her expression more serious than Semi’s as she locked eyes with Heeseung. “Alright, enough of the cutesy stuff. Let’s get to the real questions.”

Semi rolled her eyes playfully, but Heeseung straightened up, clearly sensing that this was going to be more intense. You bit your lip, dreading whatever Heesoo was about to throw at him.

“So,” Heesoo began, her voice calm but firm, “two years of dating online. That’s a long time. How did you know she wasn’t, you know, catfishing you?”

The question hung in the air, and you shot Heesoo a look that screamed, Really? But Heeseung just laughed, easing the tension.

“Well, I mean, we sent pictures sometimes, so I was pretty sure she was real,” he said with a grin. “But, honestly, even if she was catfishing me, I’d probably still fall for her voice.”

Semi made a fake gagging sound. “Oh my god, this is too much. You guys are like a Hallmark movie come to life.”

Heesoo, however, wasn’t satisfied yet. “Okay, let’s say you two stay together and get serious. Like, really serious. How do you plan to handle long-distance, or are you gonna move closer to each other? What’s your five-year plan here?”

The intensity of the question made your heart race. You hadn’t even fully discussed long-term plans with Heeseung yet—at least not in any serious detail. But Heeseung didn’t miss a beat.

“I think long-distance isn’t something we can avoid entirely, but we’ve made it work for two years already. It’ll be challenging, but I’m willing to put in the effort. And as for moving… well, it’s something we’ll have to talk about, but I’m open to whatever’s best for both of us.”

Heesoo tilted her head, studying his answer. “So you’d move? Leave your life behind for her?”

Heeseung nodded, his gaze unwavering. “If it made sense for us and it was the best decision, yeah. I’d move. I want to make sure she’s happy, no matter where that takes us.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, and Semi sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, Heeseung, you’re setting the bar way too high for other guys.”

But Heesoo wasn’t done yet. “Alright, one last question.” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s your biggest flaw? And I mean a real flaw—none of that ‘I’m too caring’ nonsense.”

Heeseung paused, clearly taken aback by the directness of the question, but he didn’t shy away from it. “My biggest flaw? Hm… I’d say I tend to overthink things. Sometimes, I worry too much about doing the right thing, and it makes me second-guess myself.”

Heesoo raised an eyebrow, clearly satisfied with his honesty, and finally leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a small, approving smile. “Alright. You’ve passed—for now.”

You exhaled in relief, finally letting go of the tension in your shoulders as the interrogation seemed to be over. Semi clapped her hands together, grinning. “Well, Heeseung, you survived! Congratulations. We’ll go easy on you next time—maybe.”

Heeseung chuckled, turning to you with a playful smile. “That wasn’t so bad. I think I can handle them.”

You smiled back, feeling your heart swell with affection. “You did great. I was kind of worried they’d scare you off.”

Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice soft and teasing. “It’ll take more than that to scare me away.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you nudged him playfully. “Stop being so smooth.”

Semi, clearly not done with teasing, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Okay, but seriously, Heeseung. Do you think you could beat her in a game of Mario Kart? That’s the real test.”

Heeseung laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, I’ve already tried. She destroyed me.”

You shrugged with a grin. “What can I say? I’m competitive.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “And that’s why I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but in front of your friends, it felt different—more real, more special.

Semi let out a dramatic gasp, fanning herself. “Alright, that’s it. You two are officially too cute for me.”

Heesoo smirked, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, we’re done here. But, Heeseung, remember—if you ever hurt her, we’ll find you.”

Heeseung grinned, nodding. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

THE SOFT GLOW OF STREETLIGHTS REFLECTED OFF THE THIN LAYER OF SNOW THAT HAD BEGUN TO BLANKET THE SIDEWALKS, creating a quiet, almost magical atmosphere. It was one of those evenings where the world seemed to slow down, where time stretched out in front of you, and all that mattered was the warmth of Heeseung’s hand, firmly intertwined with yours, as the two of you walked side by side. You could feel the cold bite of the wind, but it hardly registered, not when you were this close to him, not when his presence radiated warmth.

His binnie was dusted with the tiniest specks of snowflakes, and every now and then, a flurry would land on his dark hair peeking out from underneath, adding to the charm of the moment. You stole a glance at him, your heart swelling at the sight—his cheeks flushed slightly from the cold, his breath coming out in soft puffs of condensation. He was fumbling with his keys, his brows furrowed in concentration, and the sight made you smile.

Heeseung noticed, catching you looking at him, and his lips quirked into a curious, soft grin. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a hint of playfulness. He finally managed to unlock the door, but instead of stepping inside, he paused, letting the question hang in the air, waiting for your answer. His eyes were on you now, all of his attention focused, as if he could sense the weight behind your unspoken thoughts.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip, before speaking softly. “Just that… we probably wouldn't have such a lovely relationship if we didn’t agree to meet offline. I mean, we would have a relationship—but maybe not like this.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, his amusement clearly visible as his breath hitched from the cold, but before you could say anything more, he was pulling you inside, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you immediately, but the contrast between the chilly night and the sudden comfort inside felt almost surreal.

He let out a low chuckle, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s literally freezing outside, and that’s what you’re thinking about?” Heeseung raised an eyebrow as he slipped off your jacket, his fingers brushing lightly against your arms in the process. You could feel the heat from his touch, even through the thick fabric, and it sent a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He looked down at you, his lips curving into that teasing smile you’d come to know so well.

Before you could respond, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing the snow off the tip of his nose. “You have snow here,” you muttered, your voice soft, almost breathy, as you leaned in slightly to brush away the last remnants of snow from his cheeks.

Heeseung’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he tilted his head closer, nuzzling your nose with his own in the most affectionate way, as if you were a couple of playful kittens. “This method is better,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke, his lips barely grazing your skin. The closeness was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and airy.

“You’re weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you attempted to step back, but Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. Before you could escape, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion.

Your giggles filled the room as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart skipping a beat at the suddenness of it all. Heeseung grinned up at you, his lips brushing against yours as he planted a few light kisses, each one sending a ripple of warmth through your chest.

“You’re so tiny,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur as he carried you toward his bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, never breaking his gaze from yours, and the sheer confidence in the way he handled you made your pulse quicken.

He gently laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he climbed up, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of you. You could feel the weight of his presence, the heat radiating off him as he pinned you beneath him.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at each other, the intimacy of the moment stretching out, thick and palpable. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the glint of mischief hiding behind the warmth in his gaze.

“Heesoo and Semi are going to kill you if you do something,” you teased, though the smile on your lips betrayed your words. You ran your fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the smooth skin, feeling the way his body tensed under your touch.

Heeseung leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he pressed soft, lingering kisses, each one sending shivers down your spine. “Like what?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing, the sound of it sending a wave of warmth flooding through you.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the butterflies that swirled in your stomach. “You know what I mean,” you muttered, pouting slightly, but before you could say more, he captured your lips with his, his kiss silencing your protest. His lips were warm, soft, and insistent, and you found yourself melting into him, completely forgetting what you were even trying to argue about.

Then, in one quick movement, he shifted, flipping the two of you so that you were now on top, straddling him. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance as you adjusted to the sudden change in position.

“Woah,” you breathed, your eyes wide in surprise as you looked down at him.

Heeseung just grinned up at you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “I’ll settle for cuddles,” he said, his voice softening as he leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. His teasing tone had given way to something more tender, more intimate, and the affection in his voice made your heart flutter.

“You’re seriously such an overreactor,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he held you against him, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheek pressing against his chest as you relaxed into his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The sound was soothing, grounding, and you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace as you lay there, wrapped up in him.

“Am I heavy?” you asked playfully, lifting your head slightly to look down at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

Heeseung’s grin widened, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “What? No,” he muttered, laughing softly. “If anything, you’re way too light.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you deepened it. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you tighter, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The snow continued to fall outside, but inside, wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, you felt nothing but warmth. And as the two of you lay there, tangled up in each other, you couldn’t help but think that even though the world outside was cold and quiet, in this moment, everything felt perfect.

© enreveriee | tumblr

[targaryen-dynasty]

WORSHIP ME INSTEAD.

Maegor Targaryen x Niece!Septa!Reader

The Gods have been unhappy with your uncle for some time now, but perhaps he's just needed to give them an offering… a sacrifice in return for a healthy heir all along. And what makes a better sacrifice than a septa?

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MDNI; very dubious consent, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), blasphemy, corruption, corruption kink, size difference, semi public sex, female reader (mentions long, silver hair as appearance)

WORDS: 3K

NOTES: you're all getting some big tiddy daddy as a special treat and to officially end my 3k celebration! thanks to everyone that has participated by asking questions, by writing their own fics, and by just supporting me. also a special thanks to @zaldritzosrose and @arcielee for betaing this. <3

The atmosphere in the newly completed Red Keep is strange. It never was comfortable or calm, not even when your father sat the throne, but it feels as though a dark veil is hanging low over the castle and its staff, not even sparing the king and your uncle, Maegor Targaryen. 

You’ve been gone from court for quite a while, being sent to Oldtown to become a septa by the very hands of the man you’re serving now, which has made the change in atmosphere even more apparent to you. 

Several deaths haunt the castle — Ceryse Hightower’s being the most recent one — and you can only fathom the pressure your uncle holds on his shoulders at this very moment. He does not have an heir, one wife after the other perishes, and the boy that poses the biggest threat to his claim to the throne, your brother Jaehaerys, has fled the castle of Dragonstone with your mother after the passing of the Dowager Queen Visenya. 

You were not mad at being sent to the Starry Sept, for it allowed you to leave the insanity of your own House for an unknown amount of time. It was when you’d been called back to King’s Landing that you could feel your mood sour. You were brought there with no real task for you at hand which forced you to take over some duties Grand Maester Benifer assigned you with. 

Your whole day has been spent in the Keep’s library, making you forgo your hood at one point and therefore allowing your silver tresses to cascade down your back freely. Wearing the hood is no necessity, hence your lack of concern should someone walk into the library and catch you without it. 

With several books in hand, you sort some of the scrolls and books that had been brought to the royal chambers before, putting them back to where they belong. 

You are too engrossed in your task to notice that you’ve been alone for the longest of time, only aware of that other presence the moment the raspy voice fills the room. “Septa,” he almost says it in a mocking manner, and you immediately know who it is that has joined you. 

Turning on your heels, you crane your neck to meet your uncle’s eyes for a moment. “Y-Your Grace.” You dip into a slight curtsy, placing the books in an empty place on the shelf.

Heat warms your cheeks in his presence. Even during your childhood, you have always found a liking for your uncle and enjoyed the way he allowed you to leave the boredom of your princessly duties to take you flying on Balerion or let you watch him train with the sword. 

“At ease, Septa,” he replies, flicking his hand as if he means to dismiss your stiff posture. The library is not well lit, a few candles sparsely placed here and there granting for most of the light, and yet you still notice the way his eyes rove over your form slowly and deliberately. “I trust that all is well in the Keep?”

Your heart races in your chest underneath his gaze, as if he contemplates eating you, and it makes you swallow thickly. “Oh, yes, of course. Everything is well, Your Grace,” you say, trying to keep your voice as calm and polite as possible, though you can not help but feel your pulse quickening at the hunger in his eyes. 

His lips curve into a smile, clearly taking pleasure in the way you’re squirming beneath his gaze. “And your duties? All going smoothly?” He takes a step towards you, looming over your small frame. 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your composure, more so as his pleasant scent fills your nostrils in a way you can’t describe. Taking in a shaky breath, a shiver runs down your spine. It’s been easier being close to him when you were all but a child he’s bounced on his knee, not a woman grown.  

“Well enough,” you reply a beat later. “The new midwives are coming along wonderfully. The Queen can know herself in good hands should she be with child soon.”

Maegor just hums in response, reaching out a hand to drag his knuckles over your cheek, his calloused fingers rough against your soft skin. Even from this little contact he can feel how warm your flesh is, and a heat grows in his loins at the thought of how warm and sensitive your skin would be if it was no longer covered by your septa robes. 

“That is good then… Septa ,” he says, hesitating to use your title. His voice has dropped lower as his hand travels to your jaw, his thumb caressing your chin. 

Your eyes widen, but you don’t dare to step away from him for fear of the consequences. “... Your Grace?” You eventually find the courage to whisper. 

His fingers graze your jaw, gently tracing your features. A low hum rumbles in the depth of his chest. You don’t know that he’s always found you beautiful, much more than your younger sister Rhaena, and even more now that you’ve become a woman grown. You’re so unlike the women he usually entertains himself with. “Yes, Septa?” With these words leaving his lips, his hand travels down to your neck, gently wrapping around your throat, grasp firmly but not enough to hurt you. 

Drawing in a deep breath, that is the moment you decide to bring some space between you again, taking a step back. But much to your surprise, his grip does not falter, hand still around your throat with his arm just outstretched. “I–” you swallow thickly, not able to keep your gazes locked. “This… This is highly inappropriate, Your Grace.”

Maegor merely scoffs, and although his hand follows your movements, it’s clear it’s meant to stop you from getting away from him. His thumb gently runs along the sensitive skin of your throat, feeling your pulse quicken beneath the pad of it. “Inappropriate?” he murmurs, his dark blown eyes drinking in the sight of your slightly parted lips. “When have I ever cared for what was appropriate, Septa?”

It feels as though the gentle brush of his thumb coaxes another shiver to run down your spine, and you catch your mind straying to the thoughts of what it would feel like if his fingers were anywhere else but your neck. 

“Must… Must I remind His Grace that it was him sending me to Oldtown to become a septa? I–I have vowed–” you trail off, your voice shaking slightly. “It is not very proper for a septa to be touched in… this way.”

Moving forward again and closing the gap that has formed, his hand around your throat stops you from backing away. “It’s not proper, no…” he murmurs, leaning forwards to bring his lips on level with your ear. “But then again, I’ve never been a proper man.”

You suppress an involuntary gasp as you feel his hot breath fanning over your skin, enough to nearly melt you here and now. Perhaps his grip leaves you more as a willing prisoner to his mercy rather than his prey. A part of you wants to pull away, yet the other part is afraid of angering him by doing so. 

“Y–Your Grace…” you whisper, the sound of your voice almost breathless as his domineering presence makes it difficult to think straight, “... please.”

The wicked smirk on his lips grows wider at your pleading. He can feel himself getting lost in your voice, so soft yet sounding so helpless in his presence. If it hasn’t been obvious before, he takes immense pleasure in the way he towers over your frame, making you appear so small and fragile clad in your septa robes. 

“Please what, niece ?” he says, leaning in even more to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. 

You try to tilt your head to get away from him, squirming in his grasp, but to no avail. “Īlon kessa daor,” you try to reason with him in the tongue of your ancestors, a small flicker of hope that this brings some sort of clarity back to him. We should not. 

But Maegor just chuckles lowly, the grip around your throat tightening slightly. Your breathing is uneven, shaky even, with your body pressed against his, and he relishes in the feeling of your vulnerability. “Kostilus īlon kessa daor,” he replies, a dangerous lilt in his tone. “Yn gaoman sīr jorrāelagon raqagon ra nyke kessa daor.” Perhaps we should not. But I do so love to indulge in things I shouldn’t.

Before you can answer, you’re spun around by him, the movement unusually fluid and graceful, as if he’s done it plenty of times before. Your back presses against his sturdy chest, pinning you between him and the bookshelf with no way to escape. The hand from your throat rests on your waist instead, the fabric of your robe pinched between his fingers.

“That’s much better, is it not?” he teases in a murmur. 

The vow of chastity you’ve sworn plays over and over again in your mind, but does little to stop your knees from growing weak at the proximity. 

“This is not a good idea… uncle ,” you protest quietly. It’s completely out of place for you to address him as such, he is the king and you’re a mere septa that has set aside her last name, but neither the Mother Above nor the Maiden can stop him from getting under your skin. 

“Perhaps, but where is the fun in a good idea, huh?”

You’re a septa, and you’re supposed to be a pious and celibate woman, but at this moment all you can think of is how good it feels to have him this close to you, so very close to giving you more – something you’ve craved for a long time. 

Both your hands are captured by his paw, pinning them behind your back and making you unable to move. While his lips explore the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, his other hand rucks up the skirt of your robe, bunching it around your waist. It’s pinched by the fingers of his other hand, held high and allowing him to pay more attention to your undergarments. 

If you weren’t so distracted by the coarse hairs of his beard scratching the sensitive skin of your neck with each kiss he pressed to it, you would have attempted to squeeze your thighs together, making it more difficult for him to tug down your smallclothes. But alas, your mind and body are too far gone from all the summers you have spent untouched and unsatisfied, addicted to the rush his touch sends through your body. 

He is hard and heavy behind you, the outline of his thick cock pressing against the curve of your arse. You're too desperate for something you have only imagined at night, making you arch your back as though you mean to make him hurry up. You can feel him fumble with the laces of his breeches, undoing them one by one. 

“We’ll just have to be good at not getting caught,” he rasps against your neck. The robe you wear offers almost no liberty to push it down to reveal more of your soft skin and the curve where your neck meets your shoulder to him, and so he has to make do with your neck alone. 

Your uncle is met with little resistance as he sheaths his hard cock inside of your warm cunt, filling you up at once. Not even the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into the skin at the curve of your neck grants you enough distraction from the stinging that comes with accommodating his size, your cunt struggling to take him completely. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, your hands clenching to fists in his grasp while your walls flutter around him.  

Your soft whimpers are enough to drive him further into his need for you already, and the gentle rolls of his hips make your knees slacken, caught by him bringing his free hand to your chin to pull your body against his. “There is no need for the Gods here, my sweet Septa,” Maegor rasps into your ear, emphasizing his words with a particularly harsh thrust of his hips that makes you choke on a whine. “You may worship me instead.”

His grip on your chin forces you to tilt your head back and arch your back against him to hold up with the slowly increasing pace of his thrusts, and your teeth digging into your bottom lip is a fruitless attempt of yours to stifle a moan coaxed past them by that. 

The sound of your moans and whimpers sparks something in him, prompting him to growl against your skin. It tightens the grip he has on your chin to the point it becomes borderline painful with how much he has tilted it back. 

“Don’t hold back,” he grunts, resting his forehead against the crown of your head. “Let me hear you, sweetling.”

Although your mouth is agape, no more sounds than breathy whimpers and whines leave your lips, despite the reckless pounding of him. But when another moan manages to escape your chest, it strains your throat to the point you have to cough once. 

Sensing your discomfort, he eases the grip just slightly, shifting it to your throat and allowing your head to tip forward again. You’re desperate to fill your lungs with air, yet each breath is knocked out of them by the merciless snaps of his hips. 

“That’s it,” he groans, nudging your legs further apart with his foot. “The Gods have been unhappy with me for some time now, but perhaps I’ve just needed to give them an offering… a sacrifice.” He’s just rambling into your hair at this point, and your mind is too hazy to really process anything he says.

You’ve been so inexperienced and have spent so much time completely untouched that even the slapping of his heavy sac of stones against your pearl brings you a pleasure beyond imagination. 

He towers over you, your small frame completely hidden by his significantly taller one. It’s such an easy game for him to keep you where he wants, to use you however he pleases, and at this point you’d let him do whatever he desires with you for as long as you get to relive the sensations you feel over and over again. 

Your peak washes over you in an ambush, the pleasure all but soaring through your veins. But his assault on your cunt doesn’t stop, and when the urge overcomes you to squeeze your thighs together, it doesn’t seize. 

“Perhaps the Gods haven’t been giving me a healthy heir because they need me to fill you up,” he growls as if he’s been waiting for this since the moment he’d sent you to Oldtown, his voice raspy and thick with need. “Perhaps the Seven will bless me with a son if my seed quickens within you.”

His words nearly send you to your knees if it wasn’t for his muscular arm wrapped around your frame. A renewed wave of your arousal oozes out of your cunt at the thoughts of you carrying his child, yet it also makes you shudder, a feeling of guilt lingering in the pit of your belly. “By… By the Gods… T-The Seven would not–” you protest weakly, your voice a little more than a gasp. But even to your own ears your protest sounds more like a pleading than denial. 

Pulling you even closer against him, Maegor nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing the exposed flesh of your shoulder gently. “My little Septa,” he murmurs, the nickname almost sounding like an insult and a taunt. “You say we can not, yet you press yourself against me… are you so desperate for my cock?”

That is the moment you lose any resemblance of restraint you’ve held before, your mind becoming blank, his merciless pounding, and words forcing every thought right out of your brain. You whine a string of incoherent words, rambling one ‘yes’ after the other. 

It’s as if he’s just as desperate, because you can feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, a sign that lets you know he is about to topple over the edge. With a few more thrusts, he forces his thick cock into you, until a strained groan heralds his peak. His twitching cock spills his seed deep inside of your quivering cunt, and you squeeze him ever so tightly in response, all but milking him for every drop. 

He squeezes your flesh and trails both his hands over your body, mapping out the curves hiding beneath the robe. His thrusts grow leisurely, the feeling of pure bliss subsiding rather quickly for him. 

Shame and guilt for what just has happened overcomes you, growing stronger the moment he pulls out and you feel the remnants of his spend idly trickle down your thighs.

You don’t dare pull around. You don’t want to meet his gaze, to see the smugness and satisfaction written over his features at having convinced you to give in to him. 

“I suppose I have kept you away from your duties for long enough,” he says, his voice dripping with irony. “You’re a septa, and I believe you have some more duties to tend to.”

Nodding weakly in agreement, you can’t shake off the feelings of being exposed and vulnerable under his piercing gaze. It takes a moment for your brain to function again, the fog of need and pleasure only slowly clearing from your mind. 

“You’re right, Your Grace,” you say, voice weak and shaky. “I should… I should get going…” Dipping your head in a nod, you’re quick to scurry off, hastily looking around on your way out of the library in hope of no one having seen you in your moment of indiscretion.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @k4marina @foxyanon @peachysunrize @nats-whore

@palmer-hjp @sinarainbows @luvdella

General Taglist: @arcielee @userhotd @multyfangirl @zaldritzosrose @black-dread

@wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin @beautbuck

[mechaknight-98]

Out of Sight(NSFW) FT Jihyo

Author’s Notes: the absolute chokehold this woman has on me is insane. You can probably blame @smuttysabina for that because of that one fanfic (that writer knows the one) and also blame jade from warframe because the warframe itself reminded me of Jihyo and now my brain is worse off because of it, but lastly blame the writer who asked me to do my riff on “love after domination” here’s my take on it. Instead of going sentai though I went more for an Ultraman style which will become clearer as to why if I write more. So please bear with me.

The usually excitable Diabolos was unusually perplexed and stoic. As he walked into the bathroom during the concert of one of his favorite groups Twice He saw Jihyo the leader sitting on the toilet. Despite her exposed nature she still looked radiant as if on stage she looked even better this close to Diabolos.

However, Diabolos was a gentleman of sorts and wanted to keep things proper so he nodded silently and walked out of the restroom before Jihyo called out to him.

“Wait mister come back.” Diabolos against his better judgment turned back and looked at Jihyo who stared at him with big soft eyes full of concern

“Can I ask a favor, mister?” Jihyo asked. Diabolos nodded wordlessly and with a slow movement.

“Can you not tell anyone about this?” Jihyo asked and she received another slow nod from Diabolos. Jihyo smiled in a way that melted Diabolos’s heart. As she finished up in the bathroom she kissed Diabolos’s cheek. Before scurrying off. Diabolos squinted trying to process what just happened. When he went to the restroom and made sure to lock it so he wouldn’t have unexpected visitors. When he finished he went back to his seat. To enjoy the rest of the concert.

He paid special attention to Jihyo. What he didn’t know was that while he was looking for her in all the stages she was looking for him in the crowd. Despite the massive crowd she was determined to find him. She would scan an area for his hat which had her romanized name in pretty letters before moving on to an area.

During one of the breaks, Dahyun noticed her leader was super focused during the performance on the crowd and wanted to make sure she was okay.

“Jihyo-unnie are you okay you looked so intense on stage. Jihyo nodded and replied,

“There was this boy I met when I went to the bathroom who had my name on his hat and I was trying to find him.”

Dahyun smiled then said, “Oh well then let me help you find him. You know two pairs of eyes are better than one.” Jihyo smiled and said

“Thanks, Dubu.” Dahyun nodded and gave a thumbs-up. After this, it was time for them to go back up and do their joint sub-unit with Sana who also agreed to help. Eventually with all of them looking they found their guy he was in the left corner of the excited arena. Dubu’s eagle eyes were the first to spot him, and let Jihyo and Diabolos have their moment as they locked eyes Diabolos felt butterflies in his chest. It feels like Jihyo is staring right at him as she sings push and pull.

For a moment the rest of the arena fades away and it’s just Jihyo and Diabolos. They look at each other and as they get a feel for each other’s vibe Jihyo sees the fire and passion in Diabolos while Diabolos feels the heart and charm.

After the concert, Diabolos heads to a burger joint on the way home. Its familiar white and red architecture is comforting to the weird hole gnawing itself in the young man. As he sits there and tries to reduce his post-concert depression his eyes track the motion of the door that opens and the subsequent bodies that enter the restaurant. When he does his eyes meet a familiar pair of brown eyes and his heart races. Jihyo sees Diabolos in the restaurant and quickly mirrors his shyness as she’s hoping not to be recognized. Sana sees this and after the order pushes Jihyo to interact with him. Obviously, in her mind, they are meant to be or at least meet each other.

Jihyo sits across from Diabolos with a shy smile

Diabolos shyly looks up at Jihyo and says “Hi.” Jihyo smiles back and then as if they’ve known each other forever they start chatting

“Your performance was stellar as always.” Diabolos initiated

Jihyo smiles, “Why thank you. I love your hat who made it?”’

Diabolos chuckles, “I made the logo then had it embroidered on.”

Jihyo beams, “I love that. Do you have another one?” Diabolos considers for a moment then says,

“You can have this one.” Jihyo's eyes grow to the size of saucers as Diabolos gently places the black dad hat with her embroidered name in red on her head. She joyfully beams as she feels the comfort it provides.

As he finished the cashier called his name.

“Diabolos your order is ready.” Diabolos gets up feeling bold and says to Jihyo

“Well, Yo-yo looks like our time is up. I’ll see you when I see you.” Before going up picking up his food and leaving. Jihyo watched as he left transfixed. How strange he didn’t talk to her like she was God Jihyo's leader twice but like she was just another person. After the exchange, Sana sat next to Jihyo and teased her

“Yo-yo that’s a new one.” Jihyo was still bewildered by this guy. Then said

“I want to see him again,” she opened her phone and pulled out Instagram where she was bombarded by webtoons, lol videos, and beauty tips she entered search and typed Diabolos to the best of her ability. After 15 or so minutes she found him.

To keep track of him she took a picture of her with her hat and tagged him. The caption read, “A cool once gave me this cool hat.”

Surmising that he wouldn’t be able to avoid her or resist responding she set her phone down and addressed Sana.

“Hey Unnie how did you…”

The next day Diabolos wakes up to a crazy surprise of over 1800 direct messages asking him for hats or variants of it for different members of twice. He squints at the messages and then sighs before combing through them listing all the major requests and all of the minor ones. After he was done it seemed like it was roughly 200 per member so he got to work designing logos/ symbols for each member and making a website. After spending much of the day doing that he linked it to his page the saw that Jihyo had tagged him in her post with the hat.

“That clever little sneak,” Diabolos said as began writing a reply comment

“Thanks, Yo-yo,” Jihyo smiles as she starts singing Moonlight Sunrise

Over the next few weeks, Jihyo attempts to send a dm to Diabolos but can’t due to numerous schedules and concerts. At the same time, Diabolos also tries to send a message to Jihyo while building a small indie fashion brand.

9 weeks later the two are finally free of the hectic mess of concerts and satisfying orders. Diabolos reaches out to Jihyo.

“Hey, Yo-yo thanks for the shout-out I appreciate it. How was the rest of the tour?”

When Jihyo saw the message she smiled and said, “Got ya.”

“Well I had to do something to be able to see you again,” Jihyo typed.

Diabolos smirks at Jihyo's message

“I’d love to but I have to ask is this a date?”

The message popped into Jihyo’s inbox. She laughed before responding

“Maybe…I want you all to myself.” She typed and cringed.

“I’m spending too much time with Sana,” Jihyo thought to herself.

Diabolos saw the message then smiled decided to tease Jihyo,

“Wait I thought you were dating this one dude the buff gym guy?”

Jihyo read Diabolos’s message and pouted before typing back

“Have you seen me with him?”

Diabolos furrowed his brow, “That doesn’t answer my question,” he typed

Jihyo smirked back in control, “Tell you what how about you visit me and then I’ll answer your question.”

Diabolos sighed and then typed “fine” before rolling his eyes and setting his phone down. In the spur of the moment, he had an idea for more merch and began sketching a design.

When he finished his first sketch Jihyo texted him back,

“Really (crying emoticon)” the text read.

Diabolos responded yes and Jihyo cheered

“Thank you thank you thank you, Dio.” Jihyo sent it before she could finish her text.

Diabolos raised an eyebrow before texting back “Dio?”

Jihyo panicked but held firm, “Sorry spell check didn’t work.”

Diabolos smirked

“Dio… I like it.” Jihyo smiled and said

“Well then Dio it is!” Jihyo replied elated. When she calmed down enough she sent the message saying, “But really, you should visit Korea. I’d love to show you around.”

After that Diabolos decided to show Jihyo his new design he was dubbing Chibihyo. It was a little chibi version of her.

When Jihyo saw it she smiled and typed, “Oh is that me? It’s so cute. I WANT IT!!!!”

Diabolos laughed and responded, “I’ll give you the prototypes when I finish them.” Jihyo smiled in response.

After a few minutes, Jihyo got bold and said, “Hey what are you doing in 9 weeks?”

Diabolos raised an eyebrow, “nothing?” He text back. Jihyo smiled and then sent

“You wanna go to Thailand with me?”

Thinking Jihyo was joking Diabolos responded, “Sure! Sounds like a blast.”

Jihyo unable to read Diabolos’s sarcasm responded, “Great! I’ll send you the information later.”

Realizing he was S.O.L. He resigned to his fate.

“Guess I’m going to Thailand,” he said to himself.

The week before leaving for Thailand Diabolos successfully filled all his first-wave orders and was now accepting the second-wave of orders. His net revenue for the venture was 180% bigger than the salary of his office job which he quit the week after he got everything set up.

His dad was surprised by his success but abundantly grateful and impressed at his resourcefulness to turn the opportunity in his favor.

On the day of leaving for Thailand Diabolos Sr. Prayed for his son’s safety and that no war would chase him.

Upon arriving Diabolos checked into the hotel and went looking for Jihyo who said she would be in Bangkok when he flew in.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling streets of Bangkok, Diabolos found himself standing at the entrance of a cozy, riverside restaurant. The air was filled with the scent of spices and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. He adjusted his shirt, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

Jihyo had suggested Thailand for their first date, a place she had visited once before, adding an element of adventure to their meeting. As he scanned the crowd, his eyes landed on Jihyo, who was walking toward him with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with the same excitement he felt. Her multicolored dress beautifully adorned her body as it wrapped around her vixen figure.

"Hey, Yo-yo," Diabolos greeted, offering a shy smile as she approached.

"Hi, Dio," Jihyo replied warmly, her cheeks flushed with the evening heat and the thrill of finally being together.

They settled at a table overlooking the Chao Phraya River, the water reflecting the city lights like a shimmering mosaic. As they browsed the menu, filled with exotic Thai dishes, they exchanged stories of their recent adventures and laughed over shared memories of their online exchanges.

The conversation flowed easily, with Jihyo teasing Diabolos about his ever-growing hat business and Diabolos playfully asking about her latest performances. Their playful banter was punctuated by moments of shared silence, comfortable and filled with the unspoken connection that had drawn them to this moment.

After dinner, they decided to explore the vibrant night market nearby, where they wandered through the colorful stalls, tasting street food and picking out small trinkets for each other. Diabolos found himself drawn to Jihyo's laughter and enthusiasm, and as they wandered through the bustling market, it felt as if they were in their world, untouched by the chaos around them.

As the night drew to a close, they found a quiet spot by the river, where they sat side by side, watching boats drift lazily along the water. Jihyo leaned her head on Diabolos's shoulder, and he felt a sense of contentment he hadn't expected.

"Thank you for coming all the way here," Jihyo said softly.

Diabolos smiled, wrapping an arm around her. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Jihyo smiled, “So Korea next time right Dio?” Jihyo asked. Diabolos nodded before he remembered.

“Out of his backpack, he took a red and black dad hat out of it and handed it to Jihyo who squealed with Glee seeing it.

“Ooh, I love it,” she said

As I pulled by puppet strings Diabolos said, “Well I love you so we are even.” Jihyo turned to him puzzled but smiled. The weight of Diabolos’s words didn’t hit him till he was back in his hotel room.

When Diabolos gets back he officially launches wave 2 of his fashion brand to include new designs, shirts, socks and shorts. He also expanded outside of K-pop merch and into some of the other nerdy stuff he was into; Super Sentai, Kamen Rider, Daemon x Machina, and a few other things. If the first wave was a success the second one was more so. Half of his stock sold out in minutes. A week and a half later everything was sold. Surprised at the success he takes a step back to consider his next few moves when Jihyo texts him.

“I tried getting one of everything I didn’t have, but your website sold out.” She said

Diabolos laughed then said, “Don’t worry Yo-yo tell me what you wanted and if it was for you or someone else.

Jihyo smiles as she texts him back the list of gifts (for her members) and items she wanted.

Diabolos was surprised when that list had several of the Kamen Rider and Super Sentai pieces, but Diabolos happily took it in stride.

After that Twice had a major performance in Seoul which Diabolos was going to. He surprised Jihyo when she looked into the crowd and saw someone holding a memorial Ultraman Orb Ring. When she looked down to see who had it she rolled her eyes but smiled brightly.

After the performance, the rest of Twice decided to meet the mysterious “Dio” Jihyo kept texting and mentioning.

So Sana secretly swiped Sana’s phone and told Diabolos to meet Jihyo tomorrow at the address where they’d be having lunch together Tomorrow.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, Diabolos shows up Happily. When he arrives he is mercilessly interrogated by all the members, culminating in them dubbing him an acceptable choice for Jihyo. To cement this both Sana and Momo joke that if it doesn’t work out between Jihyo and him. he should reach out to them. Diabolos politely declines and Jihyo sends him a text to her at her place for dinner after this.

Diabolos was unsure of what to expect when Jihyo invited him to her place. He figured a movie maybe some chatting then he leaves. He opened the door and was surprised to see Jihyo waiting for him in a ravishing red dress with a candlelight dinner. Diabolos smiles and then gestures to the table seat across from her. Diabolos sits across from her. Jihyo’s gaze is intense and sultry. She smiled when he took his seat.

“Wow, you look amazing as always Yo-yo.” Jihyo beams at Diabolos

“You look great as well.”

“I feel underdressed. I thought this would be casual.” Jihyo panics before responding

“Oh is this too much? I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine I’ll try to be better next time.”

Jihyo smiles and then eases, back into the chair. The two eat, catch up, and exchange pleasantries. The atmosphere of Jihyo’s small apartment soon begins to brim with romantic energy that both parties aren’t prepared for fully. After the meal, Diabolos notices Jihyo’s computer and sees that she was playing LOL earlier. Hoping to ease his racing heart he says to her

“Oh, you play league.”

Jihyo smiles and nods.

“I’m not very good though. I mostly play Jungle mid and top lane.” She replies

“Oh funny I play jungle ADC” Diabolos replies and Jihyo smiles. She moves closer. Her hand lands on Diabolos’s thigh.

“So Dio. It’s me and you alone. Is there anything you want?” Overwhelmed Diabolos sat silently until Jihyo pulled him into a passionate kiss. She hops onto his lap before breaking the kiss. Diabolos is breathless.

“Are you gonna be good for mommy?” Jihyo asks. Diabolos nods dizzy. Jihyo smiles before saying, “I am going to ride you until you can’t form a coherent thought.” As she said it she grinded her ass on Diabolos’s crotch before moaning. Diabolos tries to focus but her kisses overwhelm him. His mind starts to go blank as Jihyo takes off her dress revealing the sexy lingerie underneath her overwhelming sexual energy mixed with his eradicating all thoughts from both of their minds except the singular impulse to breed. Diabolos strips and Jihyo pounces on him. She wraps her delicate arms around the bigger man before whispering in his ear.

“I’m so fucking wet for you,”

Diabolos grunts as tries to find something on her marvelous body to focus on but all he can do is let her do what she wants. She pushes Diabolos onto her couch where their eyes lock and through a lustful fog one message is clear

“We belong together.”

Diabolos aligns his cock with Jihyo’s entrance and slowly eased in. Despite Jihyo’s experience and excitement, the walls challenged Diabolos’s cock with fervor. She wanted to be bred but her body wanted him to earn it.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Diabolos says overwhelmed.

Jihyo moans and roars out then “tame my pussy then mold me in the shape of your cock.” Her words set off the first of multiple cascading triggers in Diabolos’s nervous system. As he inches in to fill her to the brim overtakes him causing him to ram himself the rest of the way. Jihyo’s mind melts in a mix of pleasure and pain as Diabolos claims her as his. Her eyes roll back as he begins to thrust into her.

Jihyo relaxes and her body welcomes him in as he thrusts in and out of her. “Put a baby in me!” Jihyo demands. Diabolos can only grunt as his reptilian impulses brain is doing all the work rutting and fucking this beautiful, sexy, and fertile woman.

“Make me a real mommy!” Jihyo encouraged and Diabolos flipped her onto the couch before lifting her legs.

“Oh, you brute. Good to know our children will be strong,” Jihyo moaned as her body fully submitted to Diabolos.

Her walls opened up to be wetter and more accommodating for him and after a few more thrusts he came violently in her pussy.

Jihyo’s sultry smile was fixed upon Diabolos. “You’re mine now.” She said possessive. Diabolos nodded still transfixed by her. As he slowly pulled out Jihyo’s orgasm hit her violently. She came and squirted all over her apartment’s floor. When she calmed down she gazed upon Diabolos like a proud lioness and said,

“Do you have any more in the tank for Mommy?”

Jihyo watched as Diabolos grew again under her sultry gaze.

“Bedroom now!” she purred

Diabolos tried to resist his impulses but buried himself inside Jihyo. She moaned in pleasure but slapped him.

“No mommy said bedroom now,” Jihyo said but she could not yell loud enough to volume the demands to breed her burning and screaming through Diabolos’s body.

Diabolos grabbed her hips before slamming into her again as both of their minds became lust-addled mush. As Diabolos thrust into her sloshing cunt Jihyo’s bodacious boobs bounced buoyantly hypnotizing him to fill her with more of his seed.

Jihyo moans for Diabolos to breed her and luckily he does. Jihyo moans and cums at the same time Diabolos does before they both crash on her wet couch. Jihyo looks at Diabolos before going to his neck and marking him.

“You’re mine now,” she reiterates shyly

Diabolos looks at her and boldly says, “Are you sure? because I’m crazy!” Jihyo smiled as her eyes glistened teal for a moment before she hugged Diabolos tight.

The next morning Diabolos and Jihyo woke up early they watched the sunrise on Jihyo's balcony.

[cthonic-bunny]

1. personal synastry and composite experiences and observations

Do not interact if you are a minor. (18+)

Sun in 8th house synastry: I was the house person they were the sun. I definitely developed insecurities I never had before as a result of this connection. With the sun shining brightly on my insecurities, they were hard to ignore and even harder to not project them entirely on the sun. A lot of “you did this to me!” energy. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person until this relationship and a lot of it came from wanting to be “good enough” in the eyes of the sun person. It’s like knowing you have these darker aspects in common and wanting them to see you can bond this way and see them in a way no one can. You also end up pushing limits together. You liked this? Now WE love this. You’re addicted to that? Now WE are addicted to it. Moderation is hard to achieve with sun in the 8th house synastry. It can also bring up insecurities surrounding sex with that person specifically, if poorly aspected. Explosive reactions and emotional outbursts aren’t foreign here. The house person can feel like a vampire being sunburned, with all its ugliness revealing itself from its body because of its interaction with this person. The 8H person wants a full, in-depth analysis of the sun person’s thoughts, intentions, and motivations. The plutonic energy wants to completely envelop the sun, compulsively in some cases, to know WHY they are the way they are, and why the sun presents themselves in certain ways. This is especially true if the sun person did something to hurt the 8H person, who can feel it more than is rational. The 8H person can really struggle with getting over any emotional harm or feelings of abandonment that come from the sun person. The 8H person can potentially resent the sun person for not being able to read them as intently as they could read the sun person. The sex, if and once insecurities are worked through, can bring you so much closer to one another and to yourself. I also feel like any disturbances or intimacy problems between you two can easily be felt by others or there can be blow ups in front of people you know, because the sun is a planet that illuminates wherever the light lands, whether you like it or not. Avoid public fights, because you will kiss and makeup but the damage in other people’s eyes will be done and opinions will be made. The 8H person might be able to see through any facade the sun person puts up, and this could lead to deep discussions that could be extremely healing for the Sun who might have to work through some things. The 8H person can also teach the sun person how to make more money and maybe even encourage them to start their own business. They can be known as a couple that makes a lot of money together. The sun person can also give sugar daddy/mommy vibes and the 8H the sugar baby, even if it neither one of the people involved are rich-rich. This is a highly binding placement. You two might find it difficult or even impossible to separate from each other even if the relationship has run its natural course. You guys are known as the couple that is “stuck” to one another.

Moon in 5th house synastry: *weird* but, for those who have this placement with a significant other, do you love to smell their body odor? I think in the house of children and fertility, it makes sense to love your partner’s pheromones. Something as weird as the smell of their armpits or stinky feet becomes comforting, idk?? This house is also really fun, and you can get a lot of emotional fulfillment out of acting like children together. 5H is ruled by Leo, so I also found that we had a lot of fun putting on “shows” for one another, and sort of making up our own characters and accents to make the other giggle. People are also really excited for the prospect of us having children together, and you’ll have friends volunteering to babysit or be the godparent of your unborn children LOL. Dressing up nice and going out on dates to somewhere with a great ambiance can be a great way to feel connected. Sharing perfume, or gifting each other perfumes or colognes. Loving the scents they wear. Same taste in candles? Candles as gifts. Lots of watching TV together? Having “shows” that feel wrong to watch without the other. Being called pretty by the other means a lot, and being pretty in each other’s eyes makes you feel good.

Moon in 12th house synastry: 12H synastry tends to have an awful reputation, and I get it when it’s a relationship that isn’t meant for you. However, my moon falls in my best friend’s 12H, and it is one of my favorite placements of ours. We have a telepathic connection where we can just look at the other and know what’s up. You preemptively know what will bother the other person and find it hard to understand how other people wouldn’t have assumed that thing would annoy your person. You understand each other’s motives, and can provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on or ear to listen with. When it’s a new interaction it can feel a bit intense, because how are you in my head!!! I feel like you can read my thoughts! It was like that for the both of us. It’s like, when together, both our consciousnesses transported to another realm where we are mutually perceiving something and our thoughts are being put on a radio for the other to listen to. Very spiritual relationship. You KNOW the vibes, and those feelings will be verified through the other person who already felt the same. She will never be wrong in my eyes and I will defend her to the death. We don’t even have to speak on certain days, but we can feel whatever mood the other one is in and check-up on each other accordingly. Whenever we have a strange dream or nightmare, the first thing we do is text each other and try to analyze what it could mean. I as the 12H person also dreamt of us becoming best friends before we formally met. The dreams i would have of her would always be loaded with spiritual symbolism. We also grew up with the same level of emotional attachment to our personal spiritualities and shared religion, which plays a large role in our understandings of one another. Most people just won’t get it, but she always will. She could read my crazy journal entries if she wanted to. 12H moon synastry is just unconditional love. Between friends at least, it feels like a long-lost twin connection. Also, her and I had gotten matching tattoos before we even knew of each other, both of them being for the same spiritual meaning!

Composite Mars in 3rd house: Lots of talking during sex, and lots of car sex— It might sometimes feel like that’s the easiest thing to talk about, or the conversation always steers to that direction. Sending nudes? Sexting. Maybe the only way you two could engage your sexual desire for one another is through sexting, because distance might not permit the full physical expression. If you don’t have a lot of experience knowing the other’s communication style, it can lead to a bit of random defensiveness or perceiving the other as communicating abrasively. I think it can lead to one trying to get reactions out of the other by saying something out of pocket.

Composite Mercury in 12th house: Pay attention to the dreams you have of this person! They will seriously tell you a lot about your dynamic, but don’t take them at face value! Lots of mystical elements to your dreams about them specifically, so maybe reviewing tarot card meanings and astrology concepts can help you decipher the meanings of your dreams. You might find it easier than expected to confide in each other or rant about your brain’s inner workings together. “I don’t know why I’m saying all that-“ or psychoanalyzing each other for fun. Talking about your less-than-desirable attributes. Being honest about your deceptive tendencies or specific lies you’ve told and why. Oversharing things that will usually make other people uncomfortable in the same context (like talking about your exes or failed situationships on a first date). Difficulties communicating when it’s not in person because it leaves too much room for confusion. Deceit is a real possibility though, with someone voluntarily “leaving out details” about their life outside of the relationship to avoid ruining the flow of energy or the dynamic. Having each other saved on your phones under fake names. Having to hide that you’re talking to this person from other people. One of you withdrawing communication to manipulatively make the other think about you more. Taking turns being each other’s therapist. Thinking about each other often but never expressing that, or the extent to which you think of one another. Thinking about the other at night before going to bed. “I started catching feelings for the girl that I’m currently having sex with, so it’s safe to say we don’t talk anymore, unless of course we’re having sex” in Sasquatch .22 by Bay Faction.

Composite Venus in 12th house: There really is a secretive component to this interaction that can feel impossible to bypass. Your family, friends, or society might not “approve” of you two together. One or both of you can be cheating on someone with this person. Only being able to meet up or be affectionate at night or in extremely private settings. The privacy of the relationship can help you open up a lot more than you’d expect to, because there’s no one but you two to perceive the other in this context. No judgments on how you two should behave with one another, so “let’s fully enjoy the moment while it lasts.” No one understanding your interaction or it’s purpose, and you probably don’t understand it either. Sending telepathic love notes. Longing. Intimate and romantic sex that haunts you or catches you off guard. Never wanting to be the first one to admit you’ve caught feelings. Ruining your sleep schedule to spend time with one another. Dreaming about romantically linking with them before it ever happens. Withdrawing once feelings start feeling real. The song “Lips of Angel” by Hinder reminds me of Composite Venus in 12H. “Illicit Affairs,” “August,” and “False God” by Taylor Swift. “Why Can’t I?” by Liz Phair. Gato de Noche by Bad Bunny. Sex by The 1975.

Lilith in 8th house synastry: Wanting to try things sexually with this person that wasn’t necessarily exciting with other partners. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you.” Possibly experimenting with or preferring BDSM with one another. That Lana lyric that’s like: You fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you.” It might also be controversial if people knew you’ve had sex with one another. Revenge sex? As in, you two having sex might indirectly be spiting someone else, and it kind of feels like you’re dishing out delicious karma on a surprising silver platter— “lol if only they knew” You two might have fun misbehaving together. Doing what you both know you’re not supposed to be doing can make everything feel better, and even more reason to keep doing what you’re doing. Lana Del Rey in Diet Mountain Dew: “you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.” Wanting to be dangerous together. “Leave me bruised so I can’t forget you.” “Seeing you tonight is a bad idea, right?” This placement somewhat reminds me of a union between the death card and the devil card in tarot, with an emphasis on risk-stained sexual liberation. You can become symbolic of temptation in each other’s lives, so it’s hard to deny your impulses. Toxic by Britney Spears.

-D 🖤🕯

[honeydjarin]

MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago. 

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding. 

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue. 

Sanji.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is. 

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient. 

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary. 

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top. 

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.   

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time. 

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep. 

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them. 

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own. 

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot. 

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes. 

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more. 

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste. 

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess. 

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.” 

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley. 

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?” 

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.” 

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his. 

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”  

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks. 

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up. 

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry. 

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out. 

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared. 

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious. 

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek. 

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.  

He definitely knows.  

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection. 

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him. 

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

[crazyk-imagine]

Napping and Defending Friends

Pairing: Sanji x Straw hat!reader

Characters: Straw hat!reader, Sanji, Usopp, Zoro, Nami, Monkey D. Luffy, Kaya

Warnings: Sanji being sanji, everyone outing reader or sanji to the other, this is kinda cute, fluff, everyone is nosey as hell, everyone is tired of Sanji and reader going around one another's feelings, the last few lines with the crew make me giggle, reader is (not so secretly) a pirate with her own bounty 0-0

Word Count: 2,688

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You roll your eyes, listening to the two acting like children. You bump the green haired man to the side with your hip.  "Shut up already. You two are acting immature for your age." You lift your plate. "I'll take more."

Sanji shakes his head to the left, moving his bangs away from his eye. He lifts the ladle, giving you a decent portion. "And I'll gladly feed those who enjoy my food."

Zoro rolls his eyes, leaving you two to flirt some more.

-

The sound of Usopp's voice explaining what happened drew you all in, moving closer to listen to him.

You stop mid bite to listen. "I would ask to see his supposedly bloody fingers," you shrug. "But, whatever."

"Let him have his moment," Nami mutters.

"But it's more fun to get him stuttering if I make him tell the truth. It's very easy to break him into confessing."

"And I couldn't do it alone."

"Damn right you couldn't," you tell him, earning a chuckle from the group and your crew.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Let's hear it for the great captain Usopp," Luffy shouts.

Your lips tug to the side, "that's so not going to give him an ego boost."

Sanji chuckles, covering his mouth with his hand when Nami and Zoro turn to face him.

His eyes glance at you from the corner of his eyes and smiles, his heart races and stomach flutters at the sight of you (not so gracefully) scarfing down the food he cooked.

-

The calm mood falls when Luffy's grandpa announces he and the marine’s arrival.

"Hey, gramps."

He narrows his eyes at you, never quite taking a liking to you like his grandson did.

Although, he did find comfort in the fact that the rubber man had someone to help and guide him (which is why he disliked you). It also didn't help that you would feed into his "becoming the future king of the pirates" dream.

Before you know it, the two family members are in battle.

Your anger gets the better of you and you forget what you've been proud to consider a usable future trait, think before doing. "Don't hurt, Luffy."

As your friend flies back, you manage to latch onto the man, his head between your hands with just a mere few inches keeping his spinal cord intact.

His nails scratch the top of your hands, the adrenaline keeping you from feeling the pain.

You try to slip your feet underneath his armpits to pull his arms back and away from you.

"Stop it," Luffy mutters, still trying to get air into his lungs.

"Huh?"

"Let go of him."

"But he-"

"This is my fight."

You grumble under your breath as you push yourself off him and if your foot accidentally finds its way into his back, oh well.

The old man grumbles the pain.

You glare at his grandpa during their fight, never letting your tense posture go.

Sanji's hand hovers over your shoulder, he hesitates to give you some sort or comfort; his hand falls beside him as the orange haired girl takes a step-in front of you, preventing you from slipping past them.

"This was all a test?"

"Go. Arlong's pirates are still on the island."

You scoff. "Now you don't want to be a dick."

The chef coughs to hide his amusement.

"Shut up."

"You can't tell me what to do Roro Zoro."

"I told you not to call me that."

You stick your tongue out at him.

"Children, I'm dealing with children," Nami mutters.

Sanji shoves his hands into his pockets.

-

You sit across from the stove, observing the chef's knife skills.

"The harder you stare, the more likely he is to mess up," a deep voice brings you out of your thoughts.

"Do you want to try and do it?" You ask, resting your hand on your knuckles.

"You can't match his skill."

"You are too kind, madame."

"It's true. I still don't even know how you can do this, and I've been watching you prepare the vegetables for a while." You steal a chopped veggie and snack on it when the rubber man bursts in, setting a piece of paper on the counter.

"You finally got your own poster."

"Yeah, no more piggybacking off you."

"WHAT?"

"Nothing, look at the amount of berry's your wanted for."

"I know."

"Everyone's going to be after you now," Zoro tells him.

"Every bounty hunter is going to be after all of us in the East Blue," Nami adds.

"Finally, a challenge."

The orange haired girl shakes her head at you.

"Then it's a good thing we're not staying in the East Blue," Luffy explains.

You clap once. "Finally, you make sense. Let's go."

"Yes!" Luffy raises his hand for a high five which you gladly give to him.

"Come on, people. We're settin' sail. Move it."

-

"Have you seen a barrel on deck?"

Your brows knit together. "Sanji, did you find a plant you shouldn't have?"

"No, I-" He chuckles, "no, no. I just- I have an idea." He calls for the others and everyone gathers around. He sets his foot on top of the barrel. "I am gonna find the all blue."

Next, naturally was your oldest friend, "I'm gonna become king of the pirates."

Zoro puts his foot up. "I'm gonna become the world's greatest swordsman."

And then, Nami. "I'm gonna draw a map of the world."

Followed by Usopp. He hesitates, unsure of what his promise should be. "I'm gonna be a brave warrior of the sea."

Now everyone's eyes fall on you. "Oh, it's my turn. Uh- I don't know what to say. I feel like I've gotten things I didn't know I needed."

"There has to be something," Luffy says.

You lift your leg, "I'm gonna promise never to forget who I am."

"That's too easy."

A faux chuckle escapes you. "It's easy to forget who you were and your code," you tell Luffy.

"Alright."

"I like it," Sanji says.

"Thank you. See I knew someone would." You stick your tongue out at the rubber man. "That's enough. I'm going back inside. I need a nap."

"I can get started preparing tonight's dinner." He basically skips after you.

"I hope they figure out whatever they have going on soon," Usopp shakes his head. "It's getting really..."

"Annoying," Zoro adds.

"It's not- it could be worse."

"How much worse than two people going around their feelings for one another." Nami raises a brow causing the storyteller to look away because he did the exact same thing with Kaya.

"That's not what we're talking about right now." The man pouts and walks inside, not wanting to be outed anymore.

"Has anyone else noticed how easily he follows her after she hugged him."

"Yeah," Luffy nods, agreeing with the storyteller. "Wait- what hug? They hugged and I missed it. Oh man."

Nami shakes her head, "is that what you're really focusing on right now?"

"Yes. I think he'd be good for her."

"You do?"

"Clearly he hit his head too hard during that fight with his grandpa," Zoro adds.

"We probably should've checked to see if he had a concussion before boarding," Nami says.

"Why are you guys talking like I'm not even here?"

The three shared a look and chuckled.

"C'mon, guys. Tell me, please?"

-

You wake up from your nap to the smell of well-cooked food. You're still pleased Sanji decided to join the crew, it was time there was someone (else) who could prepare a nicely cooked meal and not burn eggs or not know how to cut a vegetable.

You lean against the doorway, enjoying the pleasant aroma of food coming from a few feet away.

"You're awake."

You open your eyes, not realizing you closed them. "Yes, I was persuaded to get out of bed because of what you're cooking."

"Is that the only reason?" He teases.

"Ask me again after I've finished my meal."

"Will you have a different answer?"

"Maybe."

He glances up from the ingredients he's mixing as the corner of his lips tugs upwards.

"In the meantime, I'll be over here with my eyes closed."

"Napping again?"

"No, just resting my eyes."

"If that's what you say, then I believe you."

-

"Is anyone going to wake her up?" Luffy asks, munching on his meal.

"Why can't you do it?" Nami asks, "she's your friend."

"And?"

"What are you all babbling on about?"

"They're trying to wake her," Zoro uses his head to gesture to your sleeping figure.

"Are you all so scared to wake such," Sanji glances down at your relaxed face, "a beautiful creature?"

Usopp groans, taking another bite of his meal. "Do something already."

The chef places hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you until he finds himself staring at the ceiling, gasping to get the air back into his lungs.

Your face comes into view. "What were you doing?" You push yourself off him.

He groans when you pull him up.

"Waking you," he groans. "I see why no one wakes you now."

"I said, I was sorry," you mumble.

"And that's why we leave her alone," Zoro tells him.

"Shut up, make fun of Luffy or Usopp's love for food and Kaya."

"Woah, woah. Don't drag me into this. I did nothing." The storyteller raises his hands, dropping the meat he had in his hands.

"You all are going to get brought into this."

"I'm just gonna-" Usopp runs around to the other side of the counter.

You chase after him, he counters going around; eventually you stop following him and jump up on the counter and launch yourself in his direction. But are unable to catch- "You're such a bug. I am this close to squashing you under my foot."

"Your fingers are touching," Nami points out.

"Exactly, orangie," you smile at her. "Can you put me down now?"

"Are you going to continue acting like a child in my kitchen?"

"That depends on the bug."

"She's not, hold her so I can finish my-" Usopp yelps when you reach out for him.

"Stop trying to attack your fellow crew members." Luffy orders you, food flying out of his mouth.

"How did you ever deal with him?" Sanji mumbles, unable to keep himself away from you, "he has no manners."

"I don't know." You shrug, taking a bite of the dinner he prepared (as he stands beside you, leaning against the counter). You moan as the flavors hit your tongue. "Again, I'm very," you pat his arm unable to open your eyes due to the richness of the seasonings hitting your tongue. "Very happy you decided to come aboard."

He chuckles, not at all trying to hide that his cheeks are enflamed from anyone. "I am happy to hear that, mademoiselle. That is what every chef lives to hear."

"But you're not every chef."

Nami groans, closing her eyes at the sudden headache. "Can you two stop flirting for two seconds so we can eat in peace?"

You open your eyes and stare. "If you don't like it, then leave. We are enjoying ourselves and if you don't like it, then shut up."

"But-"

You stick your tongue out and shove another spoonful into your mouth. She sighs and doesn't say anything else. "That's what I thought."

"Could you say that again?" The blond asks, breaking the silence.

"Which part?"

"The part where you don't deny us flirting with one another."

"Oh, yeah." You don't know what else to do and use your spoon to move around the carrots on your plate, not entirely focused.

On the one hand this could be good, and you'd be able to confess. Although on the other hand, he could reject you and that can potentially lead to some awkwardness between you, him, and the rest of the crew. And in the case, he tells you he doesn’t feel the same, you will respect his wishes.

Is this a risk you're willing to take?

You take a deep breath. "I won't because it's true."

The others don't know what to do, this is not what they were expecting after they just started to return on their adventure for the grand line.

His breath hitches, "oh?"

You nod. "It's hard to deny the facts when they're right in front of you. Plus, these guys would make sure to do something about it at some point."

"What?"

"No," Usopp and Luffy scoff, as if they're offended.

"Okay, maybe but only because we know you two are good for each other," the rubber man argues.

"See," you use your utensil to point at the two. "They'd definitely be the first to try and plan something for us."

"Appreciate the thought boys, but I am capable of taking things into my own hands." He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leading you outside.

-

"Are you sure it's safe to leave them alone? I think we should go back."

He tilts his head, the corner of his lips tugged upwards. "Are you, dare I ask, afraid to be alone with me?"

You scoff, "hardly."

"Then why don't you admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"That you like me."

You roll your eyes, "you're crazy."

"Am I? Or is that maybe you don't want to admit it fully to yourself because you were perfectly fine admitting that we were flirting, so what makes this so different?"

"Okay, fine." You walk back and forth along the deck. "Maybe, I do."

"I'm going to need more than that."

You stomp your foot and speed walk to him. "I am not going to repeat myself for the sake of you just wanting me to repeat myself because-"

You barely have any time to acknowledge the kiss until his breath fans against your lips. "I figured I'd save you this time."

You frown. "This doesn't make up for when I saved you and Usopp at the Baratie."

He nods, "I know." He glances from one eye to the other, "this does." And he does it again.

You put a hand on his chest, pulling away this time. "We have an audience."

"What?"

"To your left."

He glances over at them and back at you, a hint of mischief twinkling. "Let's give them a show."

"Wha-"

He presses his hand against your back, cupping the base of your neck as he tips you down.

Usopp and Luffy cheer as Nami and Zoro give looks of disapproval (even though they're happy you two did something about your feelings).

"Okay, that's enough. We get it, you two are together and you knew we were here."

The blond pulls back and smirks down at your flushed face, winking when you catch his gaze. "We didn't know you were there, forgive us."

You owlishly blink, not at all focusing on everything going on around you. You return your attention onto him, feeling his thumb brushing against your side since your shirt had risen from his show.

"Are you alright?"

You nod, "I'm fine."

"Are you? I feel as though you are not. I shouldn't have done that, shouldn't I?" He shakes his head at his behavior. "I know, I know. I'm sorry but I- I was excited."

You gently remove his hand from you before stomping past Zoro (who puts his foot out to trip the chef).

"What? What did I do?"

You groan and spin around. "You make it so hard to be mad at you."

All the worry leaves his body. He happily chases after you. "What can I do to make it less hard on you? Not be as cute, perhaps."

Nami nods, "I'm gonna go puke now."

"Ah, come on. They're not that bad."

The echoes of Sanji's voice playing coy can be heard out onto the deck.

"It's cute," Luffy shrugs.

"They won't be as cute when he has to wake her up," Zoro adds.

"Oh, that's a good idea," Usopp nods. "Make him the target."

Nami covers her face with her hand. "You're an idiot."

"What?"

"Stupid says what," Zoro mumbles.

"What?"

"I rest my case," the orange haired girl adds.

Return to: Part I

[jewishvitya]

hi riki! this is a bizarre question ngl, but im wondering if you could please tell me about why you are anti-Zionist? Since i have FRESHLY (last month!! Woohoo!!) become bat mitzvah, and I’m not going to beit Sefer every week now, I’m starting to realize that what I was told about Israel and zionism miiiight be innacurate. Please feel free not to, but I would personally feel more comfortable hearing about Antizionism from somebody who is for sure not hiding any antisemitic biases. Thanks and I hope it’s not a bother!

Mazal tov!

I was debating if I should reply to this and how. You're only one year older than my son and I never considered talking about this with a kid other than my own children. But if you're online reading and looking up information about this, I'll just answer the way I would for anyone. Like I said, I don't mind explaining. But I don't have the energy to collect sources for you. I'll do that later if you'd like. For now it'll be a bit of a rant.

Basically, if you ask different people what zionism is, you'll get different answers. Some people say that zionism is just the acknowledgement of our connection to this land. That's not what I'm going against. I'm not denying that this is our ancestral homeland. I've never known a different home, I grew up near Hebron. Our history means everything to me. So maybe you could create some definition of zionism that I wouldn't be against. But then I'll be against the use of the word because in practice, politically, the movement has been colonialist. And that reality is more important to me. So when I say I'm antizionist, I'm not talking about whatever pretty idea someone might have, I'm talking about things that to me are very concrete.

Zionism uses whatever political terminology is useful to it at the time. Currently, it tries to paint itself as a sort of landback movement, placing us as the indigenous population of this land. This is a distraction. If you mean "indigenous" as "this is where we originated" - both us and Palestinians are indigenous, which makes this term pointless to this situation. If you mean "indigenous" as "a local population facing colonization" - they're indigenous and we're the colonizers. That's the more politically useful distinction.

And the thing is, zionists knew they were colonizers. Ben Gurion was welcomed by the local population and expressed hope that they're nomadic and could be persuaded to leave. Ze'ev Jabotinsky argued that no land has been colonized with the consent of its natives, so we should just take what we want like other occupying forces did. They knew what they were doing. At the time, there wasn't the broad political pushback against colonialism that you see today, so they didn't really hide it. They saw themselves as the colonizing force and the Palestinians as the natives and this distinction had them placing themselves above the Palestinians.

When I was in school, I was made to believe that Palestine was never truly a country and the population here was never a cohesive nation. You might see questions like "Who were the Palestinian prime ministers and presidents? What was the Palestinian coin? What Palestinian wars were there before the creation of Israel?"

These questions tell you nothing other than the fact that Palestine has been under foreign occupation for a very long time. They try to lead you to believe that Palestine and the Palestinian identity are fictional constructs designed to deny us our place in this land.

But Palestinians have their own dialect of Arabic. They have their own varieties of Middle Eastern foods. They have their own clothing, their own embroidery patterns, their own dances. They have a very rich culture that wasn't just made up from nothing within the last century. I still have to battle against cognitive dissonance every time I find something of the sort, because Palestinian culture goes against everything I was taught.

The truth is, the British had no right to occupy Palestine, and they had no right to offer it to us. If we pretend there was no population that was wronged when we took Israel, we can be "the good guys" with Palestinians being a sinister plot to ruin us. This turns normal families, normal people, into a conspiracy made to hurt us. We're not fighting a military force - every Palestinian person is a threat to our legitimacy. Israelis don't even really use the term "Palestinians" - they're just Arabs, their individual identity is stripped from them. We pretend that they belong to other countries around us.

Israeli propaganda will tell you that we only ever act in self defense. It's in the name of our military, it's called a defense force. Israel boasts that it has the only ethical military in the world. The only defensive one. But like I said, we define threats very broadly. And we whitewash a lot of history. I was taught in school all our fighting was defensive - and then I spoke to an elderly man and he said "of course we killed whole villages, it was war, that's what you do." Only as an adult I found out about things like the Sabra and Shatila massacre and our involvement in it.

For the existence of Israel as an ethnostate, every Palestinian is a threat. A lot of people are all in favor of Israel, but against the government actions of ethnic cleansing. The truth is, the ethnostate is not sustainable without the ethnic cleansing. You can't accept one and expect it not to lead to the other. An ethnostate is never a justified goal, and that's always been the goal of zionism as a practical movement.

And I know why this exists. We've had two millennia of persecution. Antisemitism is one of the oldest forms of bigotry. And we just experienced an attempt to industrially exterminate us, we lost millions, including from my own family. We want shelter and safety and the ability to defend ourselves. I just can't see that as justification for what we did and continue to do.

You can look up our human rights abuses, but personally, there were moments that hit me. When I saw a whole warehouse of mail intended to reach Gaza, mail that's been kept from them for years, including items like wheelchairs, in such bad conditions that some envelopes got moldy. I still think of the people who spent all that money to get a wheelchair and were prevented mobility because we decided to hold their mail.

I watched the biggest apartment building in Gaza collapse under our bombs and I cried thinking about the people inside, and about the potential survivors and everything they lost.

I watched our people beat up the pallbearers at the funeral of Shireen Abu-Akleh, a Palestinian reporter. They almost dropped the casket from all those beatings. They were no threat. They just carried her. There was no reason to hurt them.

On the news, after Shireen Abu-Akleh died, the description of the Palestinian response to her death was that they're "חוגגים על המוות." The literal translation is that they're celebrating over the death, but that's not what it means. The meaning is that they're exaggerating their pain and their grief. They're acting, pretending, milking the injustice of it for show. And that's a common Israeli narrative, that Palestinians make a big deal out of things and pretend to suffer more just to make us look bad. We've dehumanized them to the point where we don't believe their grief.

And before all of this, growing up, I saw what the "us vs them" mentality caused in children. I grew up in Kiryat Arba and the population there is very strongly zionist. It's a settlement. It's largely Dati Leumi (national religious? I'm not sure how to translate, dati means religious and leumi means national). Over there I saw children as young as six cheerfully talk about joining the military and killing Arabs. I saw a kid throwing chocolate past the electric fence separating us from them, and laughing when a small Palestinian child went looking for that chocolate, calling her a pig. I saw my high school classmates questioning if they should help the family of a six-months-old baby, first demanding to know if the sick infant is Arab.

The Israeli left has a bit of a slogan. הכיבוש משחית. The occupation corrupts. It means that being an oppressive force changes what we are. It ruins us. And I truly believe that. It taints so much about us and our culture, about our compassion and our ability to have solidarity with other humans. Many principles that kept us safe in diaspora are used now to harm gentiles living under our control, and Palestinians suffer most of all.

So these are the reasons I'm antizionist. I hate what we do to Palestinians. I hate what it does to us. And more fundamentally, I'm against colonialism.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 1

Hey, first thing I'm posting here. Character consistency with AI is difficult for me, so just go with it.

It wasn't a good time in my life. The pandemic hit, making me unemployed. I stayed at home to avoid getting sick and with nothing to do I was starting to find any excuse to go out of my room. I was renting this flat with another guy I found on Craigslist, Roy.

Roy was my age, he moved in from some place outside the county a few years ago and we managed to stay out of each others' way. Maybe except a few times I heard his booming voice shout at the TV, cursing other players in some online game. He was also too comfortable in the house, taking off his shirt and staying like that even when guests came over.

Slowly, the world came back to order. The quarantines stopped, but I was still out of a job. I ended up searching for a long while. I was struggling and really tried to be frugal. Eating cheap, saving up, the usual. But my savings were about to run out.

I was desperate, and even though I felt bad doing so, I asked Roy if he could lend me the money for rent. Roy, to my disappointment, refused. He said he had really bad experiences with friends he lent money to, but never payed him back. I begged, said it was a sure thing, I was willing to do anything, sign contracts, whatever he wanted.

"Sorry man," He said. "You know how it is, I can't let my friends owe me money," He insisted. "But if you're willing to do something for me in return, I think we can still work something out." I was hesitant. "What do you mean? Like doing your laundry?" "Well. Sort of." He smiled. "Just make sure to be free this weekend so you could help me with that thing." It was either that or become homeless, so I jumped to hug him "Yes, of course! Anything! Thanks man!" "No worries. I'll give you the details Friday morning."

The week went by quick. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I guessed it was just some house work or doing errands for him. He was straight, so anything sex related was out of the question. I relaxed and knew that I won't be kicked out of my place. At least this month.

…

Friday morning came, but my alarm didn't go off. I woke from the direct sunlight peaking through the window curtains when I knew that my window was facing west. But the first thing that I knew was wrong was the smell. Something smelled... Wrong... Like someone else's laundry. In my half-asleep state, I turned on my side to get my phone to check the time. Eyes still closed, I couldn't feel the phone on my nightstand. I opened my eyes to see where the hell was it, but my heart stopped when I first saw my hand.

It definitely wasn't my hand. Darker skin, hairier, and a bit bigger than mine. I saw it was attached to a foreign arm with the same features of the hand. Darker skin, more hair, and bigger than mine. I gasped in fright and used the hand and arm to take off the blanket and reveal what was underneath.

Not my body. This is definitely not my body. I was wearing only pajama shorts, which I never do. My chest was thick, heavy, and hairy. My gut spilling over its own weight. My legs wiggled with fat from my movement. Wait, is this… Roy's body? I touched my chin and felt the beard Roy had. I took a look up from my body and saw I was actually in his bed, which is also in his room. What the fuck happened to me? What is going on? I run to a mirror to see if my fear is true. All I saw was Roy, having the same expression of horror I had.

I screamed, only to quickly stop and cover my mouth. What the hell was this sound coming out of me? "Ahh, test, test." I tried to listen and realized I also heard Roy's voice coming my throat. MY throat! I couldn't escape it. I tried looking for a way out of this body, clawing my skin to find an opening, but all I did was hurt myself.

I was out of breath. I started to sweat. The world was spinning and I had to sit down. After crashing on the shared living room sofa, my heartbeat lowered to a normal pace, but I was still shocked. "What the fu-" I said, surprised again to hear Roy's accent through my teeth. Was this a dream? What the fuck is going on?

"Can you keep it down? It's barely 8 o'clock." a voice behind me said. My voice. My real voice. I looked up to see who I assumed was "Roy?". I stood up to face him. "I didn't think you'd wake up this early, but whatever, I guess we can do this now." "You… You knew about this?" I stammered. "Wait. Did YOU do this?!" "Don't make a big deal out of it man, I told you I'll needed you on Friday." "FOR WHAT!?" I shouted, with his booming voice. "For replacing you?!"

"Don't give yourself too much credit. It's just for this weekend.". He started getting ready to go out. "And I don't need you to replace me, I just needed to not be me for a bit." "WHAT THE FUCK ROY?!" I started getting out of breath again. Maybe even a low-key panic attack. "Why didn't you say anything about that? I thought I was just gonna clean your room or something!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset. You're getting free rent money for basically just sitting on your ass all day." "Because you TOOK MY BODY." "Don't be dramatic, it's just for the weekend. I'm borrowing it." He put on my coat on his way out. "Couldn't you tell me before? How did you even do this?"

"That's not important, I've had this thing since I was little." He started putting on my shoes and tying his shoelaces. Listen, if you don't want this, we can switch back now, but forget about the rent. I'm not giving out free money. It's your choice."

I started to form an insult, but quickly realized this might be my only option. And is being in Roy's body for a weekend really that bad?

"And this is just for the weekend?" "Yes." "And all I have to do is stay here?" "Or go out, I don't care. I just need your body." "But why?" "That's where the money comes in. Most of the pay is for you being discreet about this." The gears in my head turned. "What, like something illegal? Sex? Don't do weird shit in my body." "Nothing sketchy, I promise, but I really need to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

He closed the door after him, leaving me still shocked at the situation he got me into.

Thanks for reading. Part 2 out soon.

[elikajinnie]

Hiii I love your fanfics!!😭🩷

Can u write something on sunoo like horror au or thriller au?

Fallen Angel - K.S

THANK YOUUUU!!<333 Omg i have so many horror au drafts right now. It`s really giving me motivation.

P: Devil!Sunoo X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood/Injury, Rituals & Cult-like Activity, Obsessive Love, Body Worship, Murder, Corruption, Falling In Love, Stalking?

Synopsis: A seemingly innocent walk through the forest turns into a chilling nightmare, and your soul becomes the ultimate prize for the devil himself. With a captivating presence and an insatiable desire for you, he reveals that your fate is now intertwined with his. And he will keep you by his side.

a/n: I am a sucker for paranormal movies :p the start is inspired by Jennifer`s body :) HAPPY HELL WEEK!! (iykyk)

"The Devil is real and he's not some little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful because he's a fallen angel and he used to be God's favourite."

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You come downstairs after slipping into more comfortable clothes, ready for a walk. The house is quiet, your steps light on the wooden floor as you head toward the door. Living on the outskirts of town has its perks, and your favorite one is the forest. It's a place of solace, a space where you can let your thoughts wander freely as you walk beneath the trees.

You pull on your shoes, grab your jacket from the hook by the door, and fish your phone out of your pocket. A playlist hums to life in your ears, setting the mood. With your keys in hand, you lock the door behind you, the soft click signaling the start of your escape into the wild.

The gravel crunches beneath your feet, the small stones and twigs snapping with every step. There’s something rhythmic in the way the sound mixes with the music, creating its own sort of tune. You follow the familiar path, the forest looming ahead, inviting you in. As the trees grow taller around you, the ground changes, becoming softer, more forgiving underfoot. The scent of pine and earth fills the air, fresh and damp. Sunlight filters through in thin beams, casting long, golden shadows on the forest floor.

Your breathing syncs with the rhythm of your steps, steady and calm. The music playing in your ears becomes a backdrop to the symphony of nature—birds chirping somewhere above, the distant rustle of small animals moving through the underbrush. You can feel the world quieting around you, like the forest itself is protecting you from the noise and chaos of everyday life.

The deeper you go, the more peaceful it becomes. The path you walk is familiar, worn by countless footsteps over the years, but every time it feels new, like the forest shifts and breathes with the seasons. You pause for a moment, standing still, letting the quiet wash over you. There’s a comfort in this silence, a stillness that fills you.

But as you take a breath, something in the air changes. It’s subtle at first—like the shift in a breeze before a storm. The trees, once inviting, now seem to lean in closer. The shadows deepen, stretching out in unfamiliar shapes. The music in your ears feels distant now, as if it’s being drowned out by the weight of the silence.

Your steps slow, and the crackle of a twig behind you makes you stop altogether. You turn, scanning the trees, expecting to see nothing but the familiar outline of trunks and branches. But for a moment, just a brief flicker, you think you see movement—something or someone slipping between the trees, too fast to catch.

The forest, once a place of peace, now feels different.

Your heart quickens, instinctively telling you something is wrong. The peaceful stillness of the forest now feels like a trap. Slowly, you turn around, careful not to make any sudden movements, your instincts screaming at you to leave. The music in your ears lowers into the background, drowned out by the rushing pulse of your own heartbeat. You try to stay calm, taking slow steps back in the direction of home, eyes scanning the forest around you.

But the feeling doesn’t go away. Every shadow seems to shift, every tree leaning just a little too close. The forest, once familiar, now feels foreign, hostile even. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and your steps quicken. You need to get out of here.

Just as you pick up the pace, something moves at the corner of your vision. You freeze. Slowly, you glance around, and that’s when you see them—figures, barely visible at first, blending into the dark shadows of the trees. Cloaked in black, their faces hidden, they move with eerie silence. One, then two, then more of them, appearing from the forest as if they’ve always been there, watching.

Panic surges through you. You turn fully now, ready to run, but it’s too late. The forest around you is no longer empty. They’ve surrounded you, their dark forms closing in like a tightening net. Your breath catches in your throat as you search for a way out, but there’s none.

Before you can even react, something hard strikes the side of your head. Pain explodes in your skull, and the world around you spins wildly. The ground seems to rush up to meet you as your vision blurs, darkening around the edges. The last thing you feel is the cold, unforgiving earth beneath you as consciousness slips away, pulling you into a deep, heavy darkness.

When you finally come to, your head throbs with pain. Your eyelids flutter open, and the first thing you notice is that you’re propped up against a large, moss-covered stone, the dampness of it seeping through your clothes.

Panic sets in as you realize you’re bound—your wrists and ankles tied tightly with coarse rope, the roughness biting into your skin. There’s a gag in your mouth, muffling your shallow breaths. Your heart races as you struggle to move, but the ropes hold firm.

Looking around, your eyes adjust to the flickering light of candles surrounding you, casting eerie shadows on the trees. There are seven figures, cloaked in black, standing silently around you. They are still, their faces hidden under the hoods.

You hear it then—the low, rhythmic sound of chanting. The voice is monotone, steady, like it’s reciting something ancient and powerful. You don’t understand the words, but you guess it’s Latin. You begin to struggle, trying to loosen the ropes, heart pounding as your fingers strain against the bindings. But the more you move, the tighter they seem to become. Panic rises in your chest.

Suddenly, one of the figures steps forward, and in their hand, you see a dagger glint in the candlelight. Your stomach twists in fear. You freeze, eyes wide, unable to tear your gaze away as they approach you. The chanting continues, unwavering.

Without warning, the figure kneels beside you. The dagger’s cold blade presses against your cheek, and then—pain. You flinch as the sharp steel slices into your skin, a thin line of blood trickling down your face. A muffled whimper escapes your throat. The figure collects the blood, careful and deliberate, smearing it onto an ancient, crumbling scroll that looks like it’s been carried through time itself.

Terror takes over as you watch, helpless, as the figure lights the scroll with a simple flick of a lighter. The flames catch quickly, consuming the scroll in moments. As the last of it turns to ash, the chanting stops.

A deafening silence follows.

No birds. No wind. The entire forest seems to be holding its breath, as if the world itself is waiting for something terrible to happen.

Then, all at once, the candles surrounding you flicker out, plunging you into darkness. But just as quickly, they flare back to life—only this time, the flames are blood red, casting an ominous, fiery glow over the ritual circle. The figures stand unmoving, their faces still hidden, but you can feel the shift in the air. Something has changed.

Something is coming.

The air around you feels thick, oppressive, as if the very forest is suffocating under some unseen weight. Then, suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence. It’s sultry yet booming, rich with mockery and power. It doesn’t come from any one direction—it comes from everywhere at once, as though the trees themselves are speaking.

“Well, well, well,” the voice purrs, dripping with amusement. “How desperate you all must be, fumbling with your little rituals and chants. Meddling with powers far beyond your reach.” It chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through the forest, making the ground beneath you tremble. “Did you really think you could summon me so easily? That I would come at the beck and call of your pathetic incantations?”

The cloaked figures stiffen at the voice’s words, shifting nervously in their places. They remain silent, but you can feel their fear in the way they hesitate, as if they didn’t anticipate this response. The voice continues, teasing and condescending. “You should’ve known better. But here you are, scrambling in the darkness, begging for something you cannot possibly understand.”

Just then, one of the figures dares to speak. Their voice is trembling, but steady enough to say, “But we brought you a sacrifice.”

The forest falls deathly still. The voice, which had been mocking moments before, quiets suddenly. The shift in its tone is palpable, as though whoever or whatever it is has just taken a keen interest in something—or rather, in someone. You feel a chill creep up your spine.

There’s a long pause, and then the voice speaks again, but this time it’s softer, quieter, as though it's enthralled. “A sacrifice…?” The amusement fades, replaced by something else—curiosity. Desire. “And what a beautiful offering you’ve brought me…”

Your blood runs cold as the voice seems to focus entirely on you now, its words lingering in the air. You can feel its attention like a weight pressing down on you, though there is no form, no figure to see—just the voice, enveloping you in the darkness.

“I must say, you’ve outdone yourselves,” it murmurs, almost appreciatively. “Such beauty… such fragility. A rare find indeed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can’t tell if this attention is a blessing or a curse. Every muscle in your body screams to run, but the ropes still hold you tight, and the darkness closes in.

The figures, emboldened by the voice’s attention, begin to speak. One by one, they make their demands, their voices eager and trembling with greed.

“We ask for money,” one says, stepping forward.

“Power,” another adds, almost hungrily.

“We offer our loyalty in return for wealth, for control. We will serve you without question,” one of them declares, their voice dripping with desperation.

For a moment, there is silence. Then, the voice returns, and this time it’s filled with cold, biting laughter. “Money? Power?” it repeats, the words laced with disdain. “How pitiful. Is that what you’ve gathered here for? How small your desires are. You dare summon me, meddle in forces far beyond your comprehension, and for what? Gold? Influence?”

The voice’s laughter grows, mocking them all, cutting through the air like a knife. “You offer loyalty as if it means something to me, as if you’re anything more than fleeting, mortal specks. You want power? You want riches? You have no idea what true power is, nor the price it demands.”

The figures hesitate, doubt creeping into their postures as the voice continues to belittle their wishes. And then, just as your heart beats faster with terror, you feel a breath against your ear—soft, like a gentle wind. A whisper, barely audible, brushes against your skin.

“Close your eyes.”

You freeze. Slowly, you turn your head, expecting to see someone beside you, but there’s no one. Just the oppressive darkness and the flickering red flames of the candles. Your pulse quickens, but something deep inside you urges you to trust the voice. Against the rising panic in your chest, you clench your eyes shut tightly, your body trembling as the atmosphere around you shifts.

Suddenly, the stillness of the forest is shattered by the sound of screams. Blood-curdling, desperate cries fill the air, piercing through the night as the figures around you shout and wail in terror. You hear the snap of branches, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and the crackling of something far more sinister. But you don’t dare open your eyes. You’re frozen in place, paralyzed with fear, every muscle locked in place as chaos erupts around you.

The screams continue, a cacophony of horror, but you keep your eyes shut, holding onto the whisper’s command. Your breath is ragged, your chest heaving as you try to control the overwhelming panic that’s rising inside you. Time stretches, seconds feeling like hours.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the forest goes quiet. The screams fade into nothing, leaving only an eerie silence. Your heart races in the deafening stillness, and though you can no longer hear the carnage, you can feel its lingering presence.

You breathe in and out, fast and shallow, terrified to open your eyes, terrified of what you might see. The forest is so quiet now, as if it’s holding its breath once more. You start to wonder if it’s truly over, if the nightmare has passed.

Then, the whisper returns, soft and chilling, right by your ear. “Sleep…”

Before you can even react, your mind becomes heavy, your body limp. It feels like a spell, something irresistible pulling you into darkness. Your eyes, still shut, flutter briefly before you fall into an all-consuming sleep, leaving the horrors of the forest behind.

You drift through the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had, your body weightless, like it’s floating down a calm, serene river. The usual tension in your muscles is gone, replaced by a deep, soothing calm. It’s as if you’re cradled by warmth, gently rocked by invisible hands. There’s no sense of time, only pure restfulness, the kind that reaches into your soul and makes you feel whole.

In the distance, you hear a voice—soft, affectionate, and full of admiration. It whispers sweetly, its tone rich and tender, complimenting everything about you. It praises the softness of your hair, the elegance of your face, the beauty of your body, and even your very presence, as though every part of you is perfect. The words wash over you like a lullaby, pulling you deeper into that blissful rest.

When you finally wake up, you’re in your bed. The familiar comfort of your own room surrounds you, but something doesn’t feel right. You blink groggily, sitting up, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep. Confused, you glance around, and your heart races as you remember the events —the forest, the figures, the voice. Instinctively, your hand goes to your cheek, expecting to feel the sting of the cut, but there’s nothing. Your skin is smooth, untouched. There’s no sign of what happened.

You throw off the covers and hurry to the mirror, your pulse quickening. You search your reflection, half-expecting to see some trace of the terror from the forest, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your hair is the same, your face unmarked. It’s like nothing happened at all, and yet… you know it wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. The memory is too vivid, too real. The voice, the blood, the chanting—all of it remains sharp in your mind.

You turn away from the mirror, trying to make sense of it, when something catches your eye. Your breath hitches in your throat. On your bedside table, there’s a candle—lit and burning softly. Next to it, a single rose, its petals dark and velvety, resting elegantly beside the flame.

You freeze, your heart pounding as you approach it. Slowly, you pick up the rose, your fingers brushing against its delicate petals. The candle flickers slightly, casting a warm glow across the room. You stare at it, the confusion settling deep in your chest.

“Oh…” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. The soft voice from your dream, the one that praised you, seems to echo in your ear again, gentle and intimate. Startled, you whip around, expecting to see someone behind you, but there’s no one. Just the empty room.

“Weird…” you mutter under your breath, glancing around once more. Still, there’s no explanation, no figure emerging from the shadows. You place the rose back down on the table and blow out the candle, watching the smoke spiral up into the air before it disappears. The room feels normal again, but the unease remains.

You climb back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Despite everything, the warmth of sleep begins to pull at you again, as if beckoning you back into its embrace. And though the forest may be far behind, you can’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—is still watching.

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In the days that follow, you can’t shake the unsettling feeling of being watched. It’s always there, just out of sight—a presence hovering behind you, lingering at the edge of your senses. Every time you glance over your shoulder, expecting to see someone or something, there’s nothing. Just empty air. But the feeling never fades. It clings to you like a shadow, haunting your every move.

You become more cautious, always looking around, watching for signs of movement, but there’s no panic, no alarm. It’s almost as if your body has accepted the presence, even as your mind refuses to make sense of it. You should feel fear, but instead, there’s a strange calm, an eerie quiet that lingers no matter how close the feeling gets.

The day after the incident, you return to the forest, hoping for some kind of clue, some proof that it wasn’t a dream. But the forest is peaceful, untouched. There’s no sign of the ritual, no remnants of the candles, no trace of the figures. It’s as though the whole thing never happened, swallowed up by the woods themselves. The silence feels wrong, and as you walk the same path, the memory of that night burns vividly in your mind, but there’s nothing here to confirm it.

You try to move on, but even your friends start noticing the change in you. Rei, Jeongin, and Yujin glance at you with worried eyes, asking if everything’s okay. You brush them off, telling them it’s just stress, maybe some restless nights. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. There’s no rest anymore, only the constant feeling that you’re being watched, even when no one is around.

And then there’s the candle and rose. Every night, without fail, when you go to bed, they’re there. The candle always lit, casting a soft glow across your room. The rose—perfect, fresh, never wilting—sits beside it. It weirds you out, gnawing at your sanity, especially when you know you lock the windows and draw the curtains every night. There’s no way someone could be getting in. After the third night, you even called the police, desperate for answers. But they found nothing—no signs of forced entry, no signs of any entry at all. The officer told you everything seemed normal, but nothing about this felt normal to you.

The hopelessness sinks in. There’s no explanation, no rational way to understand what’s happening. And it doesn’t help that at night, when the world is quiet, you can hear it again—that soft voice. It’s always there, whispering just at the edge of your consciousness. Close, yet distant. Its words are impossible to grasp, like a lullaby just out of reach, tugging at your mind as you drift into sleep, feeling the weight of something you can’t explain pressing down on you.

You want to scream, to fight it, but there’s no fear. Only that strange, unsettling calm, like a storm waiting to break. And you can’t tell if you’re more terrified of what’s happening—or of how much you’ve come to expect it.

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One day, in the midst of your growing paranoia and frustration, you find yourself mindlessly scrolling on your computer when a strange ad catches your attention: a website for a fortune teller. The colorful banner flickers, promising answers to those who seek them, and normally you’d scoff at something like this. But with everything going on, you find yourself clicking the link. Desperation tugs at your thoughts. Maybe she could explain what’s happening, or at least help make sense of the strange calm that now follows you like a shadow.

The next day, you go. The fortune teller’s shop is tucked away in a quiet part of town, the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it. Inside, the scent of incense hangs thick in the air, and the room is dimly lit by candles that flicker with every movement. She sits across from you, an older woman with knowing eyes that seem to see right through you.

As you settle into the chair, she doesn’t need much prompting. After a brief introduction, she tells you that she feels something around you, something that clings to you. “There’s a presence,” she says, her voice low and thoughtful. “Usually, a presence like this would be malevolent, something dark and dangerous… but right now, it’s calm. It feels content, almost protective.”

Her words send a chill down your spine. You’ve never bought into this kind of thing before, but something inside you tells you to listen. You can’t deny the truth in her words. That presence, the one you’ve felt trailing you day and night—it’s always there, but never threatening.

She pulls out her tarot deck, shuffling the cards with practiced ease, her fingers nimble as she lays them out on the table. One card catches your eye immediately—the Devil. When she spots it, her breath catches. “The Devil,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “It represents temptation, control, and obsession. But it’s also a card of power, of something… primal. Something that binds itself to you, and once it has, it rarely lets go.”

You sit there, frozen, as she explains the meaning of the card. It’s about being tethered to something you can’t escape from, something that might seduce you with its calm but still holds an underlying danger. You barely hear her as she continues, your thoughts racing.

When you finally leave the fortune teller’s shop, you step out into the street, dazed and conflicted. The cold air bites at your skin, but your mind feels numb. You stand there for a long time, thinking over everything she said, the Devil card burned into your thoughts. The idea that this presence, this voice, is somehow tied to you—content now, but still something to be wary of—it sends your head spinning.

Eventually, you walk to the bus stop, lost in your thoughts. When the bus arrives, you get on, finding an empty seat by the window. As you sit, staring out into the city, you can’t shake the strange feeling again—that presence lingering close, too close. You glance out the window, and for a moment, you swear you see something sitting beside you in the reflection. A shadow, just out of the corner of your eye.

Your heart skips a beat, and you turn to look—but there’s nothing. No one. Just the empty seat beside you, like always. You squint, trying to shake the feeling, and look back at the window. The reflection shows nothing.

You huff in frustration, shaking off the moment, and pull out your phone, trying to distract yourself. But as the bus rolls forward, you can’t help but feel that presence still, hovering just beyond your senses, patient and ever-present.

You step off the bus at the stop you wanted, your mind still racing from the strange encounter on the ride. The air is cool as you walk, your footsteps almost mindless, leading you down familiar streets until you reach the church. Its tall steeple rises against the sky, and you pause for a moment, staring at it. A sigh escapes your lips as you shrug, figuring there’s no harm in trying. Maybe this place, of all places, could offer you some sort of clarity—or peace.

Pushing open the heavy doors, you step into the threshold. The moment you cross over, something shifts. The constant feeling of being watched, that heavy, unshakeable presence, vanishes. It should bring you relief, but instead, a hollow emptiness fills the space where that presence once lingered. You stop in your tracks, feeling strangely vulnerable, exposed in a way you hadn’t expected.

Every cell in your body screams at you to turn back, to leave the church and return to where you felt… safer. But you swallow the feeling, pushing it down as you make your way past the countless rows of benches, your eyes fixed on the altar.

“Hello,” you call out, your voice echoing through the empty space, bouncing off the high ceilings.

“Hello, my child,” a voice responds. You turn to see a priest walking towards you, his face kind, his eyes full of concern. “How may I help you?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering how to even begin explaining what you’ve been feeling, but something about the priest’s calm demeanor makes it easier. You tell him everything—about the ritual and the feeling of being watched that never left you. He listens carefully, nodding as you speak, never interrupting. When you finish, he places a hand on your shoulder, his expression grave but understanding.

“I think you may benefit from a cleansing,” he suggests gently. “It could help you find peace.”

You’re not sure what peace would even feel like anymore, but you nod anyway, agreeing to the cleansing. He leads you to a small side chapel, where he begins to recite verses, his voice steady and reassuring as he works through the ritual. You stand still, feeling the weight of his words settle around you, like a protective barrier forming between you and whatever it is that’s been haunting you.

When he finishes, you feel lighter—but not in the way you expected. You thank him quietly, offering a small smile before heading back toward the exit. But as you reach the door, you stop, standing just before the threshold. There’s an odd feeling gnawing at you, something that makes you hesitate before stepping outside. You take a deep breath, as if bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Finally, you step out. You wait for the familiar sensation to return—the feeling of being watched, the strange calm that’s followed you for days. But nothing happens. The air is still. The presence is gone.

You exhale slowly, the tension in your chest loosening, and for the first time in a while, you feel a flicker of relief. Maybe this is what peace feels like. Maybe you’ve finally managed to shake whatever it was that had been clinging to you. You walk down the church steps and start making your way home, your steps lighter, as if the weight of the last few days has lifted.

But as the quiet of the evening settles around you, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder, just to be sure.

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That night, when you finally make your way to bed, something feels off the moment you step into your room. It’s quiet, almost too quiet, and when you glance at your bedside table, the absence hits you immediately. There’s no candle softly flickering, no rose resting beside it. For days, those strange, inexplicable objects had become part of your nighttime routine, and now, without them, your room feels… empty.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the bare space, unsure how to feel. Part of you should be relieved, right? The presence is gone, the priest’s cleansing worked, and now, everything is back to normal. But as you sit on the edge of the bed, you can’t shake the odd sense of unease gnawing at you. That eerie calm you’d come to expect—no matter how unsettling—had become familiar. And now that it’s gone, it feels like something important has been ripped away.

You lie down, pulling the covers up, trying to convince yourself that this is what you wanted. Peace. Quiet. But as the night wears on, you toss and turn, the silence pressing in on you from all sides. Sleep doesn’t come easily. Every time you close your eyes, you expect to hear that soft, whispering voice, or to catch the faint scent of roses in the air. But there’s nothing. Just the cold, stark quiet.

Hours pass, and despite the exhaustion, you can’t seem to find any comfort. The night drags on, restless and heavy, and when you do manage to drift off, it’s into a light, uneasy slumber. The dreams that come are disjointed, dark, and full of shadows that shift and twist just beyond your reach.

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As the days turn into a blur of mundane routines, you find yourself increasingly aware of an emptiness that settles in your chest. It starts subtly, creeping in like the morning fog, but soon it becomes a heavy weight you can’t ignore. You catch yourself glancing around your room, searching for something, but you can’t quite put your finger on what’s missing.

You dismiss it at first. Tell yourself it’s just a phase, a product of the unsettling experience you had in the forest and the church. But deep down, you know what it is.

Each night, when you lay in bed, the absence gnaws at you, louder than your rational thoughts. You try to convince yourself that you don’t need any strange tokens, that their disappearance signifies freedom. But the truth is, you miss the ritual, the soothing presence they offered, even if it was unsettling. They were reminders that you weren’t entirely alone, even if the presence felt like a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind.

You begin to notice it more and more during the day. At work, when the sunlight streams through the window, illuminating everything around you, your thoughts drift to that flickering candlelight. You find yourself distracted, unable to concentrate, imagining the scent of roses filling your room, their petals vibrant and alive. In moments of quiet, when you should feel at peace, your mind wanders back to the eerie calm that came with those objects.

You even catch yourself thinking about the fortune teller’s words, the way she spoke of the Devil card and its implications. Was it truly gone? Or was it simply biding its time, waiting for you to acknowledge its presence again? The uncertainty hangs over you like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive.

Every night, as you prepare for bed, you look at that empty space on your bedside table, and a familiar ache settles in. You want to deny it, want to convince yourself that you’re better off without the strange gifts. But as you drift into an uneasy sleep, the truth lingers just beneath the surface—you miss what once was, even if it was chaotic and frightening.

And the more you deny it, the stronger that longing becomes, until it feels like a part of you is reaching out, desperate to reclaim the connection you once had.

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One night, as the hours dragged on, you found yourself tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts that wouldn’t settle. Eventually, you groaned in frustration and opened your eyes, confronting the reality that sleep was eluding you. With a resigned sigh, you sat up, pulling the covers off your body. You felt restless, as if your own skin was too tight.

Navigating through the dark, you made your way to the kitchen, each step a little more deliberate than the last. The house was silent, the only sound the soft padding of your feet on the cool floor. You reached the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, opening it with a quick twist before taking a few long gulps. The cool water felt refreshing, but as you set the bottle down, a familiar shiver raced up your spine.

You froze, instinctively turning slowly around, scanning the dimly lit kitchen. “Hello?” you called out, your voice a soft echo in the stillness. But there was no response, only the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of the wind outside.

Turning back around, you tried to shake off the chill that lingered, but then something shifted in the air. It wasn’t stifling, but it felt heavy, pressing down on you like a weight. A sudden awareness prickled at the back of your neck, and you froze again, feeling a breath whisper past your ear.

It was warm and sweet, mixed with an intoxicating scent of roses and something burning, like incense.

“Hello, little angel,” a sultry voice whispered, sending chills through your body. “Miss me?”

You turned your head slowly, dread pooling in your stomach, and there it was—a black shadow, dark and formless, hovering just inches from your face. Two crimson eyes glinted in the darkness, locking onto yours with an intensity that paralyzed you. You wanted to scream, to run, but your tongue felt heavy and your limbs refused to move. All you could do was stare in terror, heart pounding in your chest as the shadow loomed closer.

In that moment, you understood with horrifying clarity: you weren’t alone anymore.

You could only watch as the shadow moved to stand directly in front of you, your gaze locked onto its form, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The presence was back, and you felt a strange mix of fear and longing bubbling within you. You hadn’t realized how much you missed that voice, that intimate whisper, until it echoed in the stillness of your kitchen once more.

“Excuse my sudden disappearance,” the shadow spoke, its tone smooth and rich, wrapping around you like silk. “The cleansing you underwent caused me to step back. I could only return to you when your soul desired me again.”

Your heart raced as his words registered, the surreal nature of the moment crashing down around you. You found your voice again after the shock wore off, forcing the question out of your throat. “What… are you?”

The shadow paused, then gave a graceful nod as if remembering something important. “Excuse my manners,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with dark elegance. And then, right before your eyes, the inky figure began to shift. The darkness gave way to a striking form, his transformation almost too breathtaking to believe.

He stood there now, a tall, beautiful man, whose very presence stole the breath from your lungs. His skin with pale, flawless that seemed to glow in the dim light. His black attire was tailored perfectly, hugging his body and adding to the aura of power he exuded. But it was his eyes that drew you in —those deep, red orbs that gleamed with a playful yet dangerous light, and his blond hair fell effortlessly around his soft features. But it was more than just his face that left you spellbound—two long, black horns curved proudly from his head, and behind him, a sleek, horned tail swished lazily through the air. In his hand, he casually twirled a pitchfork, as if it were an extension of himself.

“I am the Devil,” he said with a charming smile, his gaze locked onto yours, “but you may call me Sunoo.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. You stared at him, a whirlwind of emotions crashing through you—fear, intrigue, and an unsettling familiarity. The realization of what he was settled deep within you, mingling with the longing you had tried so hard to suppress. Despite the warnings that echoed in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, to the chaos and the darkness he represented.

The kitchen felt smaller now, the shadows thicker as he took a step closer. “And I have come back for you,” he said, his voice low and enticing, making your heart race faster. His red eyes locked onto yours, and with each word he spoke, the weight of his gaze felt as though it was peeling back your very soul.

“I watched you,” he began, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I craved you. You ignited a hunger within me that I had thought long extinguished. A mortal like you,” he said, his tone reverent, “looked like an angel in my eyes. Your innocence, your strength, your beauty—each facet drew me closer, wrapping around my heart like a vine.”

As he reached out, his fingers brushed against your cheek, a caress that sent a shiver of warmth through your body. His touch was electric, igniting a spark deep inside you that resonated with every heartbeat. “But then,” he continued, the softness of his voice darkening, “I saw you on that forest floor, hurt and scared for your life. It filled me with fury, a rage that pulsed through my veins. How dare they threaten you?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he continued, “I sought you out. I stood by you, watching over you as you went about your days, waiting for the moment when you would long for me as I longed for you. I protected you from the darkness that surrounded you, even as I stood in the shadows. I knew this night would come—the time when you would feel my presence and accept me as your own.”

Your heart raced, his words weaving a web of desire and belonging that tightened around your chest. “Your soul now belongs to me,” he whispered, and as the words left his lips, you felt his hand press against your chest, right over your heart. The moment his palm made contact, your heartbeat quickened, a rapid rhythm drumming beneath his touch, as if responding to him alone.

You were so close to him now, his presence overwhelming, the warmth of his body radiating against your own. His gaze never wavered, locking onto you with a hunger that made your skin flush. Without warning, he moved swiftly, twisting you in a fluid motion until your back was pressed firmly against the counter. The cool surface was a stark contrast to the heat that coursed through your body.

Before you could react, his strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he hoisted you up and set you on the counter. The sensation of his touch lingered, your body humming with warmth as his gaze roamed over you, a possessive fire burning in his eyes.

He took a moment to admire you, his gaze roaming from your head to your toes, as if memorizing every detail. “You complete me,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I have waited countless millennia for my Queen. And here you are, the one I have searched for. When you were sacrificed to me, I knew your soul would be mine forever.”

As he spoke, you felt a rush of warmth flood through you, like molten gold coursing through your veins. His presence enveloped you, making you feel alive in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

“You are perfect,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Every inch of you is a work of art, crafted for my eyes alone.” Then, without warning, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that ignited every nerve ending in your body. It was passionate, a collision of heat and longing that left you breathless.

Suddenly, you felt whole, as if the missing pieces of your soul had been returned to you. A wave of warmth washed over you, burning deliciously from the inside out. You melted into him, feeling safe and cherished as he held you close. His kiss deepened, a dance of desire that left you wanting more, while his hands roamed your body, caressing your curves with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of his longing.

You lost yourself in him, wrapped in the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. Every kiss, every gentle caress, felt like a promise—an assurance that you were meant to be together, that you had finally found the place where you belonged. In his embrace, you felt invincible, as if nothing in the world could ever harm you again.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, he dove back in, capturing your lips with a fervor that left you reeling. “My angel,” he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with longing, “you don’t understand how much I need you. You are everything to me.” Each word tumbled from his lips like a sacred incantation, wrapping around you and pulling you deeper into his world.

You gasped as he kissed you again, his mouth moving against yours with a hungry urgency that sent shivers down your spine. The warmth of his body pressed against you, and you felt as though you were melting into him, losing all sense of time and space. He was insatiable, a force of nature, and you struggled to keep up with the intensity of his desire.

“I will keep you for myself,” he vowed, his voice so soft that it sent a thrill of excitement through you. “No one will take you from me. I will protect you for all eternity.”

With every kiss, he expressed a need that felt primal, as if he were staking his claim on your soul. You gasped again, trying to keep pace with the whirlwind of emotion that engulfed you both. He pressed against you, the world outside fading into a blur as his presence consumed you. You could feel his heart racing, a rhythm that matched your own, each thump a testament to the bond that was forming between you.

“Please,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his red gaze filled with a fierce intensity. “Let me show you what it means to be loved by the Devil. Let me drown you in my devotion.”

As he pulled back slightly, his red eyes shimmering with intensity, he asked, “Will you come with me? Will you rule beside me as my Queen?” The weight of his question hung in the air, and you felt your heart race at the thought of a life intertwined with his—a life where you would stand by his side, embracing the darkness and light together.

Looking into those mesmerizing, molten eyes, a wave of certainty washed over you. You found yourself nodding, breathless as the words tumbled from your lips. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

A wide grin spread across his face, a radiant joy that illuminated his features. The sight sent a rush of warmth through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter than ever before. He leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a passionate kiss that left you dizzy. The heat between you surged, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth that made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.

In the blink of an eye, the world around you shifted. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a magnificent room bathed in rich, lavish reds. The walls pulsed with a warm glow, and golden accents shimmered in the ambient light, highlighting the opulence that surrounded you. You were nestled on a grand bed, the silken sheets beneath you soft and cool, cradling you like clouds.

Turning your head, you saw him standing a few feet away, his red eyes locked onto you, radiating affection and adoration. His presence was comforting, that it made your chest swell with joy. You belonged here—with him.

As if reading your thoughts, he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you, strong yet gentle, holding you with a protective warmth that made you feel safe. A wide grin spread across his face, and you noticed how his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled, his soft cheeks lifting in a way that made him look so much more human, so endearing.

It almost made you want to reach out and squish his cheeks—this unexpected softness he showed you. His red eyes glimmered with love, as if you were the center of his universe. “My Queen,” he said, his voice filled with pride and affection.

You smiled back at him, feeling the weight of the bond that now intertwined your souls. “My King,” you whispered in return.

His grin widened as he hugged you even closer, his hold warm and reassuring. The titles felt right, as if they’d always been meant for the two of you.