#let me know if you need anything else tagged!

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Not the real deal.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Summary: Joel convinces you that there’s nothing wrong with a bit of grinding. Words count: 382, all dirty. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, cheating, implied but unspecified age gap, grinding, dry humping, I am not adding any more tags so as not to spoil a detail so you choose whether to read or not. A/N: no proofreading, English is not my first language and I'm sorry for any mistake. Look, I'm ovulating and I'm FERAL, this is why I wrote this. LOL

Thanks to anyone who will read this, I really hope you’ll like it!

You're straddling Joel with your panties on.

Grinding your pussy along his length flat on his tummy.

Whining, rocking your hips back and forth, your panties drenched in his and your essence.

Your hands cup your tits, your fingers pinch your nipples.

He’s hard against your core, hot, his velvety skin slides easily on the fabric, your clit more puffy and swollen with each stroke.

Warm waves make your body vibrate, rising from your tummy to your chest, setting your face on fire.

Again and again.

You can't stop, it's a vertigo that blinds your mind, it doesn't let you think about anything else.

“Just like that, baby, go on, take what you need” he groans

His big, calloused hands rest on the curve of your soft thighs, grasping and squeezing, pulling you down on his groin, his gaze moving from your half-open lips moaning his name and your tits bouncing before his eyes.

You want more.

You need more.

You move your panties to one side, you can't be bothered to take them off.

Your pussy aches and cries and screams for him.

His cock is cocooned in your folds, stiff and leaking precum, the veins of his shaft pulsing against your center.

You anchor yourself to his legs to bend your back slightly and find an angle that stimulates your clit even more.

He snarls like a feral animal.

Your hips continue their lewd dance, your juices mixing, merging, dripping onto his balls and your thighs. The tight, thin skin on his uncut cock retracts and covers his engorged, angry tip in rhythm with your thrusts.

Your muffled moans bounce off the walls as he urges you on with a broken, hoarse voice that seems to come from deep within him.

You come, throwing your head back, eyes shut.

His name dies on your lips, strangled by your wails.

“It's nothing,” he had told you, ”it's not the real deal unless I put it in you.”

You let yourself be convinced by his words, naive and willing.

You undressed for him. “You can leave your panties on baby, it's okay.”

You got on the bed with him. The bed you share with another person.

It may not be real sex, but this is a real orgasm. Wet, desperate, annihilating.

Your husband will be home any minute now. Yeah, your husband. The son of the man who is still between your thighs.

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know and I’ll do it right away.

[elryuse]

My Toxic Exes

Genre : Smut

Idol : Yeji, Giselle & Julie

Tags : Ex Gf Yeji, Giselle & Julie, Dirty Talking, Secret Sex, Cheating, Lots of Kissing, Sweaty Sex,

Word : 8,838 Word

Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.

That’s what you tell yourself as you stare at the ceiling, your body sinking into the mattress, numb. Your room is dark except for the faint glow of your phone screen, the only source of light illuminating the night.

Her last message still lingers on the screen.

"You’re overthinking."

You squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The images are still there. Her texts to someone else. The photo of them together. The way she denied it so easily, as if your feelings meant nothing.

Yeji.

The first girl you ever truly loved. The first girl who shattered you.

The first time you see her, she’s standing on a stage, dressed in a sharp black blazer and a white button-up shirt, her long, sleek hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She’s in the middle of a debate, her voice unwavering, her gaze sharp.

She’s stunning—not just in appearance, but in presence. She owns the room without even trying, commanding respect with every word she speaks.

You’re not supposed to be here. You only came because your friend begged you to watch their team compete, but now, all you can focus on is her.

When the debate ends, she wins—of course she does. You expect her to be cold and distant, but when she walks past you, she’s laughing with her teammates, her confidence melting into something warm and inviting.

And then, she notices you.

"Hey," she says, stopping in front of you. "Enjoy the debate?"

You blink. For a second, you think she’s talking to someone else. But no—her sharp brown eyes are locked onto yours, waiting.

"Uh, yeah," you stammer, caught off guard. "You were… really good."

She smirks, tilting her head slightly. "Thanks. I try."

And just like that, she walks away, leaving you standing there, completely entranced.

You don’t know it yet, but this is the beginning of something that will change you forever.

Getting to know Yeji is like getting close to a wildfire—intoxicating, thrilling, and impossible to control.

She’s not like anyone you’ve ever met before. She’s driven, passionate, and fiercely independent. She doesn’t need anyone, but somehow, she chooses you.

You start seeing her more often. First, it’s casual—study sessions, late-night talks about life and ambitions. Then, it becomes something more.

One night, after a long day of studying, you walk her home. It’s late, the streets nearly empty, and the cool night air makes your breath visible.

"You’re different," she says suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glance at her. "Different how?"

She shrugs, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. "Most guys I meet try too hard to impress me. But you… you’re just yourself."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Is that a good thing?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

She stops walking and turns to face you, her eyes searching yours. Then, without warning, she steps closer, closing the distance between you.

"It is," she murmurs.

And before you can process what’s happening, she kisses you.

It’s soft, hesitant at first, but then it deepens, her fingers curling into your hoodie as if she doesn’t want to let go.

When she finally pulls away, she grins.

"Let’s do this," she says. "Let’s see where this goes."

And just like that, you’re hers.

Being with Yeji is exhilarating. She challenges you, pushes you to be better, makes you feel like you can conquer anything.

She takes you to places you’ve never been, introduces you to people who admire her just as much as you do. She’s everything you never knew you needed—strong, fearless, and completely captivating.

But then, the cracks start to show.

It begins with small things. She gets easily frustrated when you don’t immediately understand something. She makes little comments about how you could "try harder" or "be more ambitious."

"You should be more confident," she tells you one day when you hesitate to speak in a group setting. "I can’t keep carrying the conversation for you."

It stings, but you brush it off. Maybe she just wants you to improve. Maybe she’s right.

Then, she starts getting distant.

She cancels plans more often, says she’s busy, but you start noticing the way she’s always on her phone, texting someone. You tell yourself it’s nothing. She’s popular, she has a lot of friends.

But then, one night, everything changes.

You don’t mean to see it. You’re just grabbing her phone to check the time while she’s in the shower. But the moment you pick it up, a notification pops up.

A message from someone you don’t recognize.

"Last night was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again."

Your chest tightens.

You open the conversation. There are pictures—her with another guy, laughing, leaning into him the way she used to lean into you. The texts are flirty, intimate.

Your hands shake as you set the phone back down. Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you just saw.

When she comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head, she notices your expression immediately.

"What’s wrong?" she asks.

You swallow hard. "Who is he?"

She freezes for a split second—just a moment, but it’s enough.

"Who?" she asks, too casually.

"You know who," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the messages, Yeji."

Silence.

Then, she exhales, rolling her eyes. "You’re overthinking."

Your heart cracks.

"Yeji, I saw the photos," you say, your voice trembling. "Just… tell me the truth."

She stares at you, and for the first time, you see something cold in her eyes—something detached.

"There’s nothing to tell," she says simply.

No apology. No remorse. Just a flat-out denial, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.

That’s when you realize—you could argue, you could beg for the truth, but it wouldn’t matter. She’s already decided to pretend like nothing happened.

And suddenly, you feel exhausted.

You thought love was supposed to be about trust, about believing in each other. But standing here, looking at her, you realize—this isn’t love. This is a game you’re never going to win.

So you do the only thing you can.

You leave.

You don’t cry that night. You just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong.

A part of you wants to believe she’ll call, that she’ll apologize, that she’ll tell you she made a mistake.

But deep down, you know she won’t.

Yeji never looks back.

And neither should you.

Moving on from Yeji isn’t easy.

Even after weeks pass, her absence lingers like a dull ache in your chest. You try distracting yourself—focusing on school, picking up new hobbies—but nothing fully silences the thoughts. The "what ifs" still creep in late at night, and the scars she left still sting when you least expect them.

But then, you meet Giselle.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something different.

You don’t know much about her at first. You’ve seen her in passing, heard whispers of her name in hallways and classrooms. Giselle is popular—effortlessly so. She has that kind of energy that makes people gravitate toward her, a mix of confidence and playfulness that keeps her at the center of every social circle.

She’s the kind of girl you never thought you’d talk to, let alone date.

But fate has other plans.

It starts at a party—a rare event for you. Your friends practically drag you there, insisting you need to "get out more" after the whole Yeji situation. You don’t expect much. Just a few hours of music, drinks, and pretending to have fun.

But then, you see her.

Giselle is surrounded by people, laughing at something someone said, her presence magnetic. She’s wearing a sleek black dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. She looks… untouchable, like she exists in a different world.

And yet, somehow, her eyes find yours.

For a split second, your breath catches. You expect her to look away, to move on.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she smirks. Then, before you can react, she makes her way through the crowd and stops right in front of you.

"You look bored," she says, tilting her head. "Not a fan of parties?"

You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Not really my scene."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

"My friends dragged me."

Her lips curve into a smile. "Mine too."

And just like that, a conversation starts.

It’s easy with her. She’s witty, teasing, but not in a mean way. She asks questions that catch you off guard, making you laugh, making you forget—if only for a moment—about everything else.

By the end of the night, you’re surprised to find yourself enjoying her company. And when she casually hands you her phone, telling you to put your number in, You don’t hesitate.

For the first time in months, something stirs in your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

Dating Giselle is like stepping into a dream.

Everything moves fast. One moment, you’re just getting to know her, and the next, you’re in the whirlwind of her world—late-night drives, spontaneous trips to the beach, secret rendezvous between classes.

She makes you feel special in a way you never have before.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," she says one evening, tapping your nose playfully.

You groan. "I’m not flustered."

She laughs, leaning closer. "You totally are."

She always knows how to make you smile, how to pull you out of your shell. And for a while, you think this might actually work.

But then, the cracks begin to show.

It starts with little things.

She gets irritated when you don’t answer her texts fast enough, even if you’re busy.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she asks one day, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

"I’m not," you reply, confused. "I was in class."

She pouts. "You could’ve at least texted me back during the break."

You brush it off, thinking she just likes attention. But then, it escalates.

She starts getting jealous—of your friends, of your time, of anything that isn’t her.

"Do you really have to hang out with them?" she asks one evening when you mention plans with an old friend.

"They’re my friends, Giselle."

She crosses her arms. "I just don’t get why you need to spend time with them when you have me."

It doesn’t seem like a big deal at first. Maybe she just really likes you, you tell yourself. Maybe she just wants to feel secure.

But then, one night, everything changes.

It happens after a small argument.

You don’t even remember how it starts—something about you not paying enough attention to her, about her feeling like you don’t care.

"You don’t put in enough effort," she snaps.

You blink. "Giselle, I do my best—"

"It’s not enough!" she interrupts, her voice rising.

You’re taken aback. "What do you want from me?"

She glares at you, her jaw clenched. Then, suddenly, she throws your phone across the room.

It crashes against the wall.

You freeze.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Then, her expression shifts. The anger melts away, replaced by something else—something almost… remorseful.

"I…" She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I didn’t mean to do that."

But she did.

And you both know it.

Still, she steps forward, reaching for your hands. "I’m sorry," she murmurs. "I just… I love you so much, and I hate feeling like I’m not enough for you."

Her voice is soft, almost pleading. And for a second, your heart wavers.

But then you look at the broken phone on the floor.

And suddenly, you realize—you’ve been here before.

This isn’t love. This is control.

And you can’t do this again.

Leaving Giselle is harder than leaving Yeji.

Because she doesn’t let you go easily.

She texts, she calls, she shows up unannounced. She cries, begs, says she’ll change.

But you know better now.

And so, no matter how much it hurts, you walk away.

You think you’re done with love.

You think you’ll never let yourself fall again.

But then, you meet Julie.

And this time, you believe—just for a moment—that things will be different.

You tell yourself you won’t fall for anyone again.

Not after Yeji’s betrayal. Not after Giselle’s suffocating love. You’re tired of love—tired of opening your heart just to watch it be torn apart.

But then, Julie enters your life.

And for the first time in a long while, you start to believe again.

It happens unexpectedly, on a cold evening in a quiet café.

You’re sitting alone, scrolling through your phone, when she approaches.

"Mind if I sit here?"

You glance up, surprised. Julie is beautiful in an effortless way—long, silky hair, sharp eyes that seem to read you instantly. There’s an air of elegance about her, from the way she carries herself to the designer coat draped over her shoulders.

You hesitate. The café isn’t full; there are plenty of empty tables.

But something in her gaze tells you she’s here for a reason.

"Sure," you say.

She sits across from you, her perfume light but intoxicating.

"I’ve seen you here before," she says casually, stirring her coffee. "You always sit by yourself."

You chuckle. "I like the quiet."

She tilts her head. "Or maybe you just don’t like people?"

You blink, caught off guard. Most girls would be shy or polite, but Julie? She’s bold. Direct.

You smirk. "Maybe a little of both."

She laughs, and just like that, a conversation begins.

It’s easy with her. Too easy

She’s different from Yeji, from Giselle. She doesn’t play games, doesn’t test you. She listens. Really listens.

And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel like you have to prove yourself.

With Julie, you can just be.

Dating Julie feels like a dream.

She’s rich—not just well-off, but the kind of wealthy that makes life effortless. Expensive dinners, surprise gifts, spontaneous weekend getaways—she showers you with things you never thought you’d have.

At first, it feels strange.

"I don’t need all this," you tell her one day when she buys you an expensive watch.

She just smiles, pressing it into your palm. "I know. That’s why I like spoiling you."

And you believe her.

Because Julie isn’t just rich—she’s caring. Understanding. She never gets jealous when you hang out with friends, never accuses you of not loving her enough.

She trusts you.

She makes you feel safe.

And after everything you’ve been through, that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

So, for the first time in forever, you let your guard down.

You let yourself love again.

And that’s when everything falls apart.

It starts with whispers.

Little things you hear in passing.

"Julie’s always hanging out with that guy."

"Did you see her at the bar last night? She was all over him."

You brush it off. Gossip means nothing. You trust her.

But then, the doubts creep in.

She cancels dates last minute.

She starts texting less, calling less.

And then, one night, you see it with your own eyes.

Julie, standing too close to another guy. Laughing. Letting him touch her waist. Acting like you don’t exist.

Your heart clenches, but you tell yourself to stay calm.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe there’s an explanation.

So you wait until you’re alone with her.

And you ask.

"Who was he?"

She raises an eyebrow, sipping her wine. "Who?"

"At the bar. The guy you were with."

She sighs, setting her glass down. "Just a friend."

"A friend who touches your waist?"

Her expression hardens. "Are you seriously jealous right now?"

You hesitate. "Julie, I just—"

"God, I can’t believe this," she mutters, standing up. "You’re just like every other guy. So insecure."

Your stomach twists. "I’m not—"

"Yes, you are." Her voice is sharp, cold. "I give you everything, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me?"

You feel like you’ve been punched.

"Julie," you whisper. "I just wanted the truth."

She scoffs, grabbing her coat. "The truth? Fine. Maybe I like the attention. Maybe I like feeling wanted. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

Her words hit harder than they should.

Because deep down, you know—love shouldn’t feel like this.

You take a shaky breath. "I can’t do this."

She stares at you. "What?"

"I can’t be with someone who makes me feel like I’m not enough."

For a moment, something flickers in her eyes. A flash of regret, maybe.

But it vanishes just as quickly.

She exhales, shaking her head. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

And just like that, she walks away.

No tears. No apologies.

Just… nothing.

Like you never meant anything at all.

You tell yourself you won’t cry.

But that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything crashes down on you.

Yeji. Giselle. Julie.

Three girls. Three heartbreaks.

You’ve given love everything you had. And every time, it’s been thrown back in your face.

So, you make a decision.

You’re done.

Done chasing love. Done trusting. Done believing in fairy tales.

From now on, you’ll be alone.

Because at least then, you won’t get hurt.

But then, you meet Yuna.

And suddenly, your heart isn’t so sure anymore.

You don’t believe in love anymore.

Not after Yeji, who shattered your trust.

Not after Giselle, who suffocated you with her possessiveness.

Not after Julie, who made you feel like you were nothing.

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. And most of all, you’re done.

You don’t chase love. You don’t wait for it.

Because you know, in the end, it always leaves you broken.

But then, you meet her.

And for the first time in a long while, something inside you stirs.

Something terrifying.

Something hopeful.

It happens on a rainy afternoon.

You’re in a bookstore, flipping through pages of a novel you don’t plan on buying. The rain outside taps against the windows, a soft rhythm that matches the quietness of the shop.

You like it here. It’s peaceful. A place where no one knows you.

Or so you think.

"You like that author?"

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

You glance up.

And that’s when you see her.

She stands a few feet away, holding a book against her chest. She’s dressed simply—sweater, jeans, sneakers—but there’s something effortlessly beautiful about her.

Her eyes, warm and curious, meet yours.

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

You clear your throat. "Uh… yeah. I guess."

She smiles. "You don’t sound so sure."

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. "I’ve never read their books before. Just browsing."

She nods, stepping closer. "It’s a good one. Kind of sad, though."

You raise an eyebrow. "You like sad books?"

She tilts her head. "I think sad stories are more honest."

You don’t know why, but that answer lingers in your mind.

She turns the book in her hands, then looks at you again.

"I’m Yuna, by the way."

You hesitate.

But then, for the first time in months, you say it.

You tell her your name.

And just like that, something begins.

Yuna is different.

She doesn’t demand your attention. She doesn’t try to change you.

She simply exists in your life, slowly weaving herself into the empty spaces you never realized were there.

You start seeing her more often—at the bookstore, at the café nearby, in the quiet corners of the world where you feel most at ease.

She never pushes. Never asks too many questions.

But she listens.

And somehow, that’s enough.

One evening, as you walk together under the glow of streetlights, she asks, "Have you ever been in love?"

You stiffen. The memories of Yeji, Giselle, Julie—all of them flood back at once.

You exhale. "I thought I was."

She doesn’t say anything right away. She just walks beside you, her presence steady, unshaken.

Then, after a moment, she murmurs, "It must’ve hurt a lot."

You stop in your tracks.

Because no one—not Yeji, not Giselle, not Julie—ever acknowledged your pain like that.

Your chest tightens. "Yeah," you admit quietly. "It did."

Yuna doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask for details.

She simply reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours in the most delicate way.

You don’t pull away.

And maybe—just maybe—you start to wonder.

Could love be something else?

Could love, for once, not destroy you?

But love has never been kind to you.

And just when you think you’re ready to move on, the past comes knocking.

Because one day, you receive a message.

From Yeji.

From Giselle.

From Julie.

They miss you.

And suddenly, everything you’ve tried to bury comes rushing back.

Ghosts of the Past

You think you’ve finally moved on.

Yuna is here. She’s warm, kind, and unlike anyone you’ve ever been with.

She doesn’t lie to you like Yeji.

She doesn’t hurt you like Giselle.

She doesn’t betray you like Julie.

With Yuna, love feels different. Safer. Real.

But love has never been kind to you.

And the past refuses to stay buried.

It starts with a message.

"I miss you."

You stare at the screen, your heart tightening.

Yeji’s name glows on your phone, the same name that once made your chest ache with love.

Now, all it brings is pain.

You turn off your phone. You don’t respond.

But the past isn’t done with you yet.

Because the next day, Giselle calls.

You let it ring. You don’t pick up.

Then, Julie sends a message.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

You delete it without reading the rest.

But no matter how much you ignore them, they don’t stop.

The texts become more frequent.

The calls become more desperate.

And slowly, they start creeping back into your life.

At first, you think it’s just them trying to soothe their own regrets.

But then, they start interfering.

And that’s when everything starts to fall apart.

The first time it happens, you and Yuna are at a small café, sharing quiet laughter over coffee.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

It’s Yeji.

Calling.

Again.

You let out a slow breath, ignoring it.

Yuna notices. "You okay?"

You force a smile. "Yeah. Just spam calls."

But your hands feel cold.

Because it’s not just one call.

It’s three.

One after another.

And the moment you step out of the café, Yeji’s voice fills the air.

"You’re ignoring me."

You freeze.

She’s here.

Standing across the street, arms crossed, staring at you like she has the right to be angry.

You don’t know what to say.

"You think you can just block me out?" she continues, stepping closer. "After everything we had?"

Yuna glances between you both, her brows furrowing. "Who is she?"

Yeji smirks, her eyes flickering toward Yuna. "So this is why you’ve been ignoring me."

Your stomach twists. "Yeji, don’t—"

"Did you tell her about us?" Yeji interrupts, her voice dripping with something dangerous. "Did you tell her how much you used to love me?"

You clench your jaw. "We’re done. You need to leave."

Yeji laughs—soft, bitter. "You say that, but I know you still think about me."

She takes another step forward, lowering her voice.

"You used to be mine," she whispers. "And you will be again."

Then, she turns and walks away.

Leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

Yuna touches your arm. "What was that about?"

You force yourself to breathe. "Nothing."

But it’s not nothing.

Because Yeji isn’t the only one who won’t let go.

And soon, things get worse.

It’s Giselle next.

She doesn’t just send messages.

She shows up.

At your work. At your apartment.

Always finding an excuse to see you, to talk to you.

And every time, she asks the same thing.

"Do you ever think about me?"

You want to say no.

You want to erase every painful memory of her.

But Giselle has always known how to push your buttons.

"You were my everything," she whispers one night, standing in front of your door. "I know I made mistakes. But you… you were different."

You grip the doorframe. "Giselle, go home."

She shakes her head, eyes glistening. "I don’t have a home without you."

You swallow hard.

And that’s when you realize—she doesn’t just want you back.

She wants to ruin you.

And the moment she realizes she can’t, she tries something worse.

She finds Yuna.

She talks to her.

She tells her things—half-truths, twisted stories.

And one day, Yuna asks, "Did she really hurt you that badly?"

Your stomach drops.

Because you know exactly where this is coming from.

You reach for her hand. "Yuna, don’t listen to them."

She bites her lip. "I trust you. But I don’t trust them."

And you know—Giselle won’t stop.

Because if she can’t have you, she’ll make sure no one else does.

But the worst is Julie.

Because Julie doesn’t just want to win.

She wants to make you suffer.

One night, she sends you a message.

"Come see me. Just once."

You don’t reply.

Then another text comes.

"I won’t stop until you do."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

Maybe if you go, she’ll stop. Maybe she’ll finally let go.

So, against your better judgment, you go.

You find her in a high-end bar, swirling a glass of wine in her hand.

She looks up, smiling like she’s already won.

"I knew you’d come," she murmurs.

You sit across from her, exhaling sharply. "What do you want?"

She leans forward, her perfume familiar and suffocating.

"Are you happy?" she asks.

You frown. "What?"

"With her," Julie says smoothly. "With Yuna."

You glare. "Yes."

She tilts her head. "That’s a shame."

Something about her tone makes your skin crawl.

Then, she smirks. "Because I don’t think she’ll be around for long."

A chill runs down your spine. "What did you do?"

Julie sips her wine. "Nothing. Yet."

You push your chair back, standing. "Stay away from her."

Julie just laughs. "You should know by now, baby. I don’t like losing."

You leave without another word.

But dread settles in your stomach.

Because you know this isn’t over.

Not even close.

And the worst part?

You don’t know if Yuna will stay by your side when the storm hits.

Trapped in the Past.

You’ve been trying to move on.

You tell yourself that Yuna is different. That she’s the one good thing in your life. That your past no longer has control over you.

But the past has other plans.

And today, it comes crashing back—harder than ever.

It’s just another day at work.

Your office is quiet, the usual hum of keyboards and murmured conversations filling the space. You’re buried in your work, trying to focus, when you hear it—

Gasps. Whispered voices. A sudden shift in the atmosphere.

You glance up, confused.

And then, you see them.

Yeji.

Giselle.

Julie.

Standing at the entrance of your office, looking like they walked straight out of a dream—or, in your case, a nightmare.

Your heart stops.

They shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here.

But they are.

And they look even more breathtaking than you remember.

Yeji stands tall, her confidence radiating through the room, a small smirk playing on her lips. She wears a fitted blazer over a sleek black dress, her hair pulled back in a way that makes her look both elegant and untouchable.

Giselle, on the other hand, is effortlessly stunning, dressed in a casual yet expensive-looking ensemble—like she just threw something on and still managed to turn heads. She’s scanning the room, her eyes sharp, predatory.

Julie, as expected, looks perfect. A designer outfit, flawless makeup, an aura of quiet dominance. She’s not here to plead. She’s here to claim.

The entire office is watching, mesmerized.

Because how often do three goddesses show up unannounced, asking for the same man?

And then it happens.

"Where’s Y/n?" Yeji asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You freeze.

Your coworkers look around, confused. Some exchange glances before one of them hesitantly points in your direction.

And just like that, the three of them turn to you.

And they grin.

Because Yuna isn’t here.

Because this is their chance.

Because they know—deep down, they still have power over you.

And they plan to use it.

Before you can react, they’re walking toward you.

Your heart pounds as they reach your desk, their presence overwhelming.

"Y/n," Yeji purrs, leaning against your desk like she belongs there. "You’ve been ignoring us."

Giselle tilts her head, feigning innocence. "That’s not very nice, you know. We just wanted to see you."

Julie sighs, a soft, disappointed sound. "You really thought we’d just let you go?"

You swallow hard. "You shouldn’t be here."

Yeji raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?"

You glance around. Your coworkers are still watching, whispering amongst themselves.

You grit your teeth. "Because I don’t want to see you."

Giselle laughs. "Liar."

Julie smirks. "If that were true, why do you look so nervous?"

Because they know what they’re doing.

They know exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you uncomfortable.

And worst of all…

They’re winning.

Because a part of you—no matter how small—remembers.

Remembers Yeji’s strength. The way she used to make you feel safe, like nothing in the world could touch you.

Remembers Giselle’s charm. The way she made you feel special, like you were the only one who mattered.

Remembers Julie’s care. The way she spoiled you, made you feel like you were worth something.

And now, they’re standing in front of you, looking more beautiful than ever, acting like they still care.

And Yuna isn’t here.

Yeji leans in, her voice low. "Let’s go somewhere private."

Giselle rests a hand on your shoulder, her nails lightly scraping your skin. "Just for a little bit."

Julie exhales softly, her perfume intoxicating. "Come on, Y/n. Don’t make us beg."

Your hands tighten into fists.

Because this is exactly how it starts.

How you get pulled back in.

How you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, they’ve changed.

But you know better now.

You have to know better.

You step back. "No."

Yeji’s eyes darken. "Excuse me?"

You exhale sharply. "I said no."

Giselle blinks, her smile faltering. "You’re joking, right?"

Julie’s expression turns cold. "You’re really going to push us away like this?"

You nod. "I’ve moved on."

Yeji scoffs. "With that girl? Yuna?"

You clench your jaw. "Yes."

There’s a long pause.

And then, Giselle laughs.

A slow, mocking laugh.

"Oh, Y/n," she murmurs. "You really think she’s better than us?"

Julie tilts her head. "You think she can love you like we did?"

Yeji crosses her arms. "Do you really believe she’ll stay?"

Something in their words sends a chill down your spine.

Because you know what they’re implying.

Yuna doesn’t play games like they do.

Yuna isn’t manipulative.

Yuna isn’t them.

And that’s exactly why they want to destroy her.

Before you can respond, Yeji steps closer, her voice a whisper.

"If you’re not ours," she murmurs, "then you’re not hers either."

Your blood runs cold.

Because now, this isn’t just about you.

It’s about Yuna.

And you know—this war isn’t over.

It’s only just beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed softly, a faint hum that matched the rhythm of my typing. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—5:47 PM. Just a little longer, and I could head home. Home, where Yuna would be waiting. The thought of her brought a small smile to my lips. Yuna, unlike the others, was different. She was kind, patient, and she listened. She didn’t play games, didn’t twist words, didn’t leave me second-guessing every interaction. She was… healing.

But that healing was fragile. Like a wound that had just begun to scab over, it could be ripped open with the slightest touch. And the last people I wanted touching it were them.

The soft ding of the elevator down the hall made my fingers pause mid-sentence. I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as three familiar figures stepped out. Yeji, Giselle, and Julie.

Their heels clicked against the polished floor, a synchronized rhythm that felt like a drumroll before disaster. They were dressed to kill—Yeji in a form-fitting red blazer, Giselle in a sleek black dress, and Julie in a skirt that was far too short for the office setting. Each of them wore a smirk, their eyes locking onto me like predators circling prey.

“Well, well, look who’s still working late,” Yeji purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “What are you three doing here?”

“Can’t we visit an old friend?” Giselle chimed in, her lips curving into a sly smile. She leaned against my desk, her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something far too intoxicating—washing over me.

“Friend?” I muttered, my voice low. “Is that what we are now?”

Julie chuckled, the sound grating against my ears. “Come on, don’t be like that. We missed you.”

Missed me. The words hit like a punch to the gut. Not because they were true—I knew better than to believe that—but because they were a reminder of all the times I’d fallen for their lies. All the times I’d let them hurt me, let them twist me into something I barely recognized.

“You don’t get to just show up here,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Not after everything.”

Yeji tilted her head, her smirk never wavering. “Everything? Oh, sweetheart, you act like we ruined you. If anything, we made you stronger.”

“Stronger?” I echoed, my voice rising. “You manipulated me. Toyed with me. Made me feel like I was nothing. That’s not strength. That’s just… cruelty.”

Giselle clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You always were so dramatic.”

“Seriously,” Julie added, her tone dripping with mockery. “We were just having fun. If you couldn’t handle it, that’s on you.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. Fun. That’s what they called it. Playing with my emotions, stringing me along, making me feel like I was losing my mind. Fun.

“Get out,” I said through gritted teeth.

Yeji’s smirk widened, and she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Make us.”

The air between us grew thick, heavy with tension. My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could smell her perfume, a mix of roses and something darker, something that made my head spin.

“You’re not the same without us, you know,” Giselle murmured, her voice soft, almost… gentle. “You’re boring. Safe. Is that what she wants? Someone safe?”

Julie laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Please. He was never boring with us.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that was settling over my thoughts. “You don’t get to do this. Not anymore.”

“Do what?” Yeji asked, her voice a low purr. “Remind you of what you’re missing?”

She was close now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her body. Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing against my cheek. I flinched, but I didn’t pull away. Why didn’t I pull away?

“You remember, don’t you?” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “The way it felt when we were together.”

My heart raced, my mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. Yes, I remember. I remembered the highs, the moments of bliss that made everything else fade away. But I also remembered the lows, the crushing weight of their words, the way they tore me apart piece by piece.

“We could have that again,” Giselle said, her voice a sultry whisper. “All of us. Just like old times.”

Julie stepped forward, her hand resting on my chest. “You know you want it.”

I did. God, I did. But I also wanted to be free, to move on, to finally be happy. And yet… here they were, pulling me back into their orbit, their gravity impossible to resist.

“Just one more night,” Yeji murmured, her lips brushing against my neck. “One more chance to make it right.”

I closed my eyes, my body trembling. One more night. It would be so easy to give in, to let myself fall back into their arms, their beds. But at what cost?

“I…” I started, my voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Yeji pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“It’s not the same,” I said, my voice firmer now. “I’m not the same.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Giselle laughed, the sound cold and dismissive. “You’re right. You’re not the same. You’re worse.”

Julie smirked, her hand trailing down my chest. “But maybe we can fix that.”

I shoved her hand away, my patience snapping. “I’m not something you can fix. I’m not a project, or a game, or… or…”

“A toy?” Yeji finished, her smirk returning. “Because that’s exactly what you were. And you loved it.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped, my voice rising. “I hated it. I hated you.”

“Liar,” Giselle said, her voice sharp. “You loved every second of it.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I loved the idea of you. The fantasy. But the reality… the reality was hell.”

Yeji stepped back, her smirk fading. For a moment, she looked almost… hurt. “You’re really going to throw it all away? Everything we had?”

“We didn’t have anything,” I said, my voice steady now. “It was all in my head. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

There was a long pause, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then Julie sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Be a bore. But don’t come crawling back when you realize you’re not cut out for… normal.”

They turned, their heels clicking against the floor as they walked away. I watched them go, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed behind them that I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

But even as the tension left my body, the ache in my chest remained. Just one more night. The words echoed in my mind, taunting me. Because as much as I hated to admit it, part of me still wanted them. Still needed them.

And that scared me more than anything.

The office was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound as I tried to focus on the report in front of me. But my mind kept drifting back to the encounter earlier. Yeji, Giselle, Julie—their faces, their words, the way they’d looked at me like I was still theirs. I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. They’re gone. They’re not a part of your life anymore.

But just as I was about to dive back into work, my phone buzzed. A text from Yeji: “Come outside. We’re waiting.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. No. Not again. I ignored it, setting the phone face down on the desk. But then it buzzed again. And again. And again. Finally, I picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the next message: “Don’t make us come back up there. You know how much we love a scene.”

I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand over my face. Why can’t they just leave me alone? But deep down, I knew they wouldn’t. Not until they got what they wanted.

Reluctantly, I grabbed my coat and headed for the elevator. The ride down felt like an eternity, my stomach twisting into knots. When the doors slid open, I saw them—Yeji leaning casually against the wall, Giselle scrolling through her phone, Julie with her arms crossed, a smirk on her lips.

“There he is,” Yeji purred, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. “We were starting to think you’d forgotten about us.”

“I haven’t,” I said, my voice firm. “But I’m not doing this. Not again.”

Julie laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Oh, come on. You’re not fooling anyone. We know you still want us.” She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You always have.”

“I’ve moved on,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. “I’m with Yuna now.”

“Yuna,” Giselle scoffed, finally looking up from her phone. “She’s sweet, yeah, but let’s be real—she’s not us.”

“She’s better than you,” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “She actually cares about me. She respects me.”

Yeji tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Respect is overrated. What you need is someone who knows how to make you feel alive. And that’s us.”

Before I could respond, Julie grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Enough talking. Let’s go.”

I tried to pull away, but they were already surrounding me, their presence overwhelming. They led me to a car parked just outside the building, and before I knew it, I was in the backseat, the three of them closing in around me.

The drive to their apartment was a blur, my mind racing as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. But every time I thought about making a move, one of them would touch me—a hand on my thigh, fingers brushing against my neck—and I’d feel that familiar pull, that dangerous allure that I’d spent so long trying to escape.

When we arrived, they practically dragged me inside the apartment, the door slamming shut behind us. Yeji was the first to make her move, pressing me against the wall and kissing me hard, her lips demanding and possessive. I wanted to push her away, to tell her to stop, but my body betrayed me, responding to her touch before I could think.

Giselle was next, her hands sliding under my shirt as she undressed me with practiced ease. Julie watched from a distance, a wicked grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice strained as Yeji moved her lips to my neck.

Julie didn’t answer, instead holding up her phone to show me the screen. She was calling Yuna. Panic surged through me, and I tried to pull away, but Yeji and Giselle held me in place, their hands roaming over my body.

“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice pleading.

“Oh, I would,” Julie said, her grin widening as the call connected. She put it on speaker, and I heard Yuna’s voice, soft and confused, on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Yuna,” Julie said, her tone sickly sweet. “Just wanted to let you know—your boyfriend’s here with us. And he’s very happy to see us.”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “Yuna, it’s not what you think—”

But Yeji cut me off, her lips crashing into mine again as Giselle pulled down my pants. I could hear Yuna on the other end of the line, her voice trembling as she asked, “What’s going on? What are you doing to him?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Julie said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “We’re just giving him what he’s always wanted. What he’s always needed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I wanted to deny it, to tell Yuna the truth, but the words caught in my throat as Giselle dropped to her knees, taking me into her mouth. I groaned, my body betraying me once again as pleasure surged through me.

Yeji pulled back, her lips curving into a wicked smile as she whispered in my ear, “He’s always wanted us. Not you.”

“Don’t listen to her, Yuna,” I managed to say, my voice strained. “Please—”

But Julie cut me off, holding the phone closer as Giselle worked her magic, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could hear Yuna’s sobs on the other end of the line, and guilt crashed over me like a wave. But even as I tried to fight it, I knew I was losing.

“You’ll never be enough for him,” Yeji said, her voice cold and cruel. “Not like we are.”

And then, as Giselle brought me to the brink, I heard Yuna hang up, the line going dead. I wanted to scream, to break free, but my body was too far gone, too lost in the sensations they were pulling from me.

Yeji laughed, a low, wicked sound, as she undressed, her eyes locked on mine. “Face it, baby. You’re ours. You always have been.”

And as they took turns with me, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, I knew she was right. No matter how much I tried to convince myself I’d moved on, I was still theirs. And I always would be.

Julie’s phone buzzed again, and she picked it up, her grin widening as she read the message. “Looks like your little Yuna isn’t taking this well,” she said, holding it up for me to see. It was a text from Yuna: “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart sank, but before I could respond, Giselle was on me again, her lips trailing down my chest as Yeji whispered in my ear, “See? We told you. You’re ours.”

And as they took me again, their bodies moving in sync with mine, I knew there was no escaping them. Not now. Not ever.

The room was a blur of sweat, heat, and tangled limbs. Yeji’s nails dug into my shoulders as she rode me, her hips grinding in slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. Her breath was hot against my ear, her voice low and sultry. “You’re ours,” she whispered, her words dripping with possessiveness. “You always have been. You always will be.”

Giselle’s laughter rang out as she kissed me, her lips soft but demanding. Her hands roamed my chest, tracing lines of fire across my skin. She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze intense. “You thought you could escape us?” she taunted, her voice teasing. “You’re too weak, too addicted to the way we make you feel. Admit it... you’ve missed this.”

I wanted to deny it, to push them away and reclaim some shred of dignity, but my body betrayed me. My hips moved of their own accord, thrusting deeper into Yeji as she moaned in approval. My hands reached for Giselle, pulling her closer, my fingers tangling in her hair as our lips crashed together. And then there was Julie, her tongue tracing a wet path down my neck, her hands gripping my thighs as she positioned herself to take her turn.

“You’re pathetic,” Julie purred, her voice a mix of cruelty and seduction. “But we love you anyway. Isn’t that enough?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead straddling me and sinking down onto me with a gasp. Her movements were frenzied, desperate, as if she couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t help but respond, my hands gripping her hips as I thrust up to meet her.

The room filled with the sound of their moans, their laughter, their whispers. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and I felt myself slipping further and further into their web. “You’re ours,” Yeji repeated, her voice a sultry chant. “Say it. Say you’re ours.”

I tried to resist, to hold onto some fragment of myself, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice choked with need. “I’m yours.”

The trio exchanged triumphant smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good boy,” Giselle cooed, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Now let’s remind you why you belong to us.”

They took turns, their bodies moving over mine in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. Yeji’s lips claimed mine, her kisses deep and hungry, while Giselle’s hands explored every inch of me, igniting fires wherever she touched. Julie’s voice whispered in my ear, her words a mix of encouragement and command, urging me to give in completely.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the room. My mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, desire and despair. I wanted to hate them, to push them away and reclaim my life, but my body craved them in a way I couldn’t deny.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered again, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

As if to emphasize her words, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. Giselle’s hands tightened on my hips, guiding my movements as she took her turn, her body moving in perfect sync with mine. Julie’s teeth grazed my neck, her breath hot against my skin as she moaned in pleasure.

The room seemed to spin, the boundaries between us blurring as we became a tangled mess of limbs and desires. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were one, connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

My hands roamed their bodies, my fingers memorizing every curve, every detail. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t resist the pull they had on me. It was as if they had cast a spell, one that I was powerless to break.

“You’re ours,” Julie repeated, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

The room was a blur of heat and desire, the boundaries between us blurring as we became one. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Julie whispered, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built again, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

[multific]

Of Dog Tags and Love Letters

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon Riley never says “I love you” out loud. Instead, he writes letters, letters you were never meant to find.

Simon wasn’t the kind of man who said “I love you” easily.

He showed it instead.

He showed it in the way he pulled you close at night, in the way his hand always rested on the small of your back in public, in the way he made sure you always walked on the safer inside of the sidewalk.

His love wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was steady, always there.

Still, you wanted to hear it.

Just once.

Just once you wanted to hear him say it.

Simon had been gone on a mission for a few weeks.

You missed him, missed the way the house felt different when he was home.

Tonight, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

That’s what led you to the room, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with his dog tags.

That’s when you found them.

A small metal box, tucked away beneath an old shirt. You were trying to find a shirt which still smelled like him.

Inside the box, there were letters.

Dozens of them, all folded neatly, your name written on each one.

Your stomach flipped as you picked one up, your fingers shaking slightly as you unfolded the paper.

The handwriting was rough and rushed.

But it was undeniably his.

If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

Your breathing stopped, but you kept reading.

I don’t say things the way I should. Never have. But you should know… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the reason I want to come back in one piece. If I don’t... just know that I love you. Always have, always will.

Your chest ached as you grabbed another letter.

It was the same.

So was the next.

You looked at the dates. Every letter is written before a mission.

Every single one, carrying the words he never said to your face.

I love you.

All of them, filled with meaning and care. All of them are written from the heart.

You pressed them to your chest, blinking back tears.

Three days later, he was home.

The second he walked through the door, you didn’t wait. You crashed into him, arms wrapped tight around his middle.

He let out a small grunt of surprise. “What’s all this then?”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He huffed a quiet laugh, arms circling around you. “Good to see you too, Love.”

You pulled back, searching his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Simon’s body tensed. “Tell you what?”

You lifted your chin. “About the letters.”

His whole body went still.

“…You found them.” His voice was quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah. And I had to find out from some scraps of paper that you truly love me?”

His jaw flexed like he was bracing for something. “I didn’t think I’d ever—” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not easy for me.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy,” you shot back, stepping closer to him. “Do you think this is easy for me? Waiting? Wondering if you’ll come home?” Your voice cracked. “Wondering if I’ll ever get to tell you—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard.

Simon’s eyes softened. “Tell me what?”

You exhaled. “That I love you too, you idiot.”

His breath hitched.

Then, before you could say anything else, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. His touch was warm, and grounding.

“Say it again,” he whispered, begged.

A smile tugged at your lips. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I love you.”

His eyes closed, and he let out a slow breath like he was letting himself believe it. When he spoke again, his voice was deep, barely above a whisper.

“I love you too.”

And this time, he didn’t need a letter to say it.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴏғ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ x ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I keep seeing neglected reader on my tags so I just wanted join in 🤗

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Batcave was eerily quiet, the usual hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of paperwork replaced by the soft sound of a child’s muted whimpers. Bruce stood in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the small form curled up on the couch, barely visible beneath the pile of blankets and pillows. The child, no longer the one he'd once pushed aside, seemed to exist in a world far beyond his reach.

His heart clenched when they shifted, those silent tears that fell like raindrops that he'd never quite been able to catch. He hated that he couldn't fix what he'd broken, no matter how hard he tried. All the wealth, all the power, none of it could mend the distance he'd created. But now, in this cavernous space where shadows ruled and secrets whispered, Bruce was trapped in his regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice softer than he'd ever let it be before, as he approached the couch, bending down to meet their eyes.

Reader's gaze was fixed elsewhere, lost in the memories that lingered like ghostly echoes. A broken sigh left their lips. Bruce had made mistakes, but this—their distance—was one he could never bridge with words alone.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” they murmured, their voice almost inaudible beneath the weight of the years. “Nothing will change it now.”

They curled deeper into themselves, the soft rustle of fabric only adding to the bitter silence. Bruce frowned but kept his distance. His hands twitched with the desire to reach out, to hold them close, but he was well aware that doing so would only bring more pain. The walls they'd built were taller now, sharper. There was no way in.

It hadn’t always been this way, of course. Once, they had trusted him—believed in him as a father, as the man who could protect them from anything. But those days had been forgotten in the cruel labyrinth of his own failure. He'd seen it, watched them grow from afar, sure that his way of loving them—distant, reserved, and ever cautious—was enough. But he hadn’t realized that love was not a thing to be claimed, a thing to be controlled. It was something to nurture, to build, to protect with patience and understanding. Something he'd lacked.

He took a step forward. “I know I failed you,” he said, but this time there was no deflection. The words were heavy, real. “But I am trying to make it right, and I’ll keep trying. You don’t have to be alone.”

The words fell like a hollow echo in the stillness of the cave. Reader shifted, pulling the blankets tighter around them. There was a coldness in their gaze when they finally looked up at him.

“I don’t need you now. I didn’t need you then,” they whispered, their voice steady but laced with a bitterness that cut deep. “I had another family… one that didn’t abandon me.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, the pain of the truth settling deep in his chest. The weight of their words pressed against him like a thousand stones, heavier than any enemy he'd ever faced.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his hand reaching for them, but they pulled away, the rejection too swift, too sharp. The distance between them seemed vast, a gulf that no gesture could cross. "I know I made mistakes... but I’m here now. You’re not alone anymore."

They stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing every word he'd spoken, every action he'd taken. They’d been so small when he'd first met them, so innocent in their trust. He thought back to the days when their laughter had filled the Manor, when they'd looked at him like he was their world. It felt like someone else’s life now, a time when he wasn’t as broken as he was now.

“I miss my dad,” [name] said softly, so quietly that it almost seemed like a plea. Their eyes were distant, lost in memories Bruce would never be able to share. “I miss the family that actually cared about me.”

Bruce’s hand faltered, falling to his side as the weight of those words crushed him. They were right. He hadn’t been a father to them, not in the way they needed. His life, wrapped up in Gotham’s shadows and the endless pursuit of justice, had left no room for the most important thing: them.

A wave of guilt surged through him, drowning out everything else. "I’m here, baby girl," he whispered, though he knew how hollow it sounded. There was no magic in those words anymore. They had no weight, no warmth. Just the coldness of regret.

[Name] didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his words. Their gaze was elsewhere—lost to the past, to the family they had once known, the family who had cared for them when he couldn’t. The emptiness in their eyes spoke volumes, far more than any word could.

"I never needed you to come back," they said quietly, as if the words were simply a fact now, not an accusation. "I survived without you."

Bruce stood there, struck mute by the truth of it. The echoes of his failures rang louder than anything else. All the money, the power, the endless resources of the Wayne family had never mattered when it came to the one thing that would have truly made a difference: love. The kind of love that nurtured, protected, and understood.

He didn’t know how much time passed before they spoke again, but the silence stretched on like a wound that refused to heal.

"I don’t want your pity," they murmured, their voice so small that it cut him to the core. “You can’t fix me now. You can’t fix this.”

Their words were quiet, but they were final. The finality of it hit Bruce harder than any punch. He had been a hero to Gotham, had saved lives, had put down enemies. But when it came to the one thing that mattered most, he had failed utterly.

They were slipping away from him, even now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Bruce stepped back, the weight of the truth settling into the hollow space between them. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel that emptiness, to understand just how much he had lost. He had missed out on a life that could have been, a life he could have shared with them if only he had been there.

He swallowed hard and turned, the overwhelming weight of regret pulling him deeper into the shadows.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, even though he knew it would never be enough.

But the words hung in the air like a fragile thing, doomed to fade before it could truly be heard.

And [name]? They simply lay there, wrapped in their own world—a world Bruce could never return to.

[runninriot]

The End Of Maybe

written for the @steddiebingo card prompt: proposal & @steddielovemonth day 1

rated: T | wc: 1.223 | tags: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, self-doubt, declarations of love, marriage proposal | also on ao3

 

   “Do you ever regret it?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes locked on the ceiling while his fingers are tracing invisible patterns on the skin of Steve’s back.

   “Regret what?”

Steve’s head is resting on Eddie’s chest, basking in the comfort of their shared body heat, still on his come down from an overdose of love-infused ecstasy. Enjoying his boyfriend’s closeness while his mind is happily drifting. Was drifting, until now. Now he’s alert, can sense the shift in Eddie’s mood, the gloomy aura suddenly surrounding him.

Eddie still hasn’t turned his gaze away from where it is fixed on nothing but white paint, stays unmoving even when Steve lifts his head to look at him.

   “Baby? Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

For how talkative Eddie usually is, Steve has long since learned that his boyfriend can be eerily quiet when something is eating away at him. When he’s trying to come up with solutions on his own instead of sharing the burden. Over time, they’ve found a way to meet in the middle – with Steve giving Eddie the space and time he needs to sort through his thoughts and Eddie keeping his promise not to shut Steve out, to share what’s gnawing at him eventually.

   “I mean,” Eddie starts, finally looking down to find Steve’s eyes, shifting so that they’re lying side by side, face to face. Still close despite the emotional distance Steve can feel like a physical wall between them.

   “Do you sometimes regret choosing this over- something else?”

He’s being vague on purpose, not even trying to elaborate what he means and Steve knows why, understands what he’s saying either way. They had this conversation before, once, and ended up in a big fight, maybe their biggest one yet. Because at the time, it had felt like Eddie was trying to push him away, trying to talk him into something he didn’t want out of unfounded fear of Steve changing his mind one day. Having a hard time believing that he chose this life, not despite but because of what it would mean for his future.

For Steve, this has never been temporary; he’s always been all in. Wants to spend the rest of his days with Eddie, through the good and the bad and everything.

   “Never,” Steve finally says, keeping his voice soft but making sure the message is clear, “I want this and nothing else. I love our life with everything we have. I love you. You know that, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve leans in for a kiss, a firm press of lips to emphasise his words.

He knows it’s just a little bump in the road, just Eddie being in his head – it happens every now and then, it’s okay, nothing to really worry about. But still, Steve hates to see Eddie sad.

   “I know you do, I just- I don’t know.”

Eddie sighs, buys himself time by stealing another tender kiss from his boyfriend, and Steve lets him get away with it.

   “Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I do or say something that made you think I’ve changed my mind?”

   “No! No, you did nothing, I- I guess I’m just scared.”

With one hand, Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face, thumb gently stroking over his cheekbone, not saying anything but patiently waiting for him to go on.

   “I know you love me, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just sometimes wonder if it’s truly worth giving up so many of your dreams for this. For me.”

Steve knows what Eddie is referring to, even without him having to spell it out. It is true, there had been a time where Steve’s biggest dream was to have a wife and kids, a whole bunch of them, living a quiet small-town life with his picture-perfect family.

But that was before Eddie came along. Before he fell heart over head in love with a wonderful young man, with the prettiest smile and dark brown eyes that make him weak, still, after all those years. Sure, he’d be lying if he said he never asked himself that same question, wondering if being with Eddie was worth facing all the battles they had to fight. If loving Eddie was worth letting go of the future he’d always thought he wanted for himself.

But the answer is still the same as it has been for over 6 years now – yes. A thousand times yes. Because the truth is, he didn’t give up a dream, he created a new one. With Eddie at the centre of everything, he’s built a life that is better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Nothing compares to being loved by Eddie, and nothing could ever make this relationship any more perfect. Except maybe…

He shoots up so sudden it startles Eddie, who reluctantly obeys when Steve beckons him to sit.

   “What-”

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, presses the tip of his finger against Eddie’s lips to shut him up – not to be rude; he just needs him to listen to what he has to say before he loses his courage.

   “You’re it for me, okay? You are everything I need to be happy and I- I want to grow old with you, want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are all I want, now and forever.”

Steve swallows roughly, has to take a few deep breaths, can already feel the burning of tears in his eyes.

Robin will lose her mind. Will probably also give him a lot of shit for doing it like this, here, in the isolated cocoon of their bedroom rather than making it the big, pompous surprise they always joked about in secret. When they talked about the hypothetical maybe of Steve proposing one day.

Truth is, Steve has been thinking about it a lot in the past, about asking Eddie to take this next big step with him. Not for the sake of making at least one of his younger self’s dreams a reality, but because he wants to be Eddie’s in every way possible. Is more than willing to give up a name that means nothing to him for one that means love and trust and family.

   “Eddie, baby, will you marry me?”

He waits for the words to sink in, anxiously watching Eddie go through all the stages of understanding what Steve is asking him.

   “Are you-” Realisation.

   “Do you really-” Disbelief.

   “You want to-” Reassurance.

   “Oh my God, yes! YES!” Eddie finally answers with a trembling voice and eyes full of tears.

They’re both shedding tears of joy now, arms wrapped around each other, kissing, and smiling and kissing some more until just kissing is no longer enough. When the need to be closer overcomes them and whispered declarations of love and devotion turn into something a lot more obscene. When their bodies demand to become one in heated passion, euphoric and wild and sweet.

And when they come undone for the second time this night, it feels different in a way, new. Because it’s their first time as soon-to-be husbands. Falling apart together, with all their love carved into a promise to mark the end of maybe and the beginning of forever – no after – just them ‘til the end.

[bussolares]

── MOUTH SORE.

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ 양정원 x fem! reader content idol-au established elationship au inspired by the video of jake and jungwon suffering due to their mouth sore ✿ warning this was not proofread and wrote in one sitting. . .!? ˃ᴗ˂ wc 564 𖦹 mlist and tag list

note. so uh, i know i've been pretty inactive on this blog (mostly it's because i'm more active in my NSFW enha blog-) but i got a sudden motivation to write for jungwon after watching bro and jake suffering from their mouth sores LMAO. sorry if this is short because i don't know what else to write.

“No.” 

“Baby—” 

“I said no. No means no,” you interrupted, cutting your boyfriend off, warily backing away whenever he tried to approach you. Your eyes were fixated on the bottle of medicine he held in his right hand and a cotton bud in his left hand. 

“I am not putting medicine on it,” you protested, only for your back to hit something firm. You glanced behind to see Heeseung standing behind you. Before you could protest, he wrapped his arms around you, easily carrying you over to a chair. 

“Lee Heeseung, don’t! Let me go or I’ll kick your balls!” You shrieked, flailing your limbs like a frantic chicken but his strength easily overwhelmed yours. The eldest member laughed, plopping you down on the chair. 

You tried to get up but he was faster, typing your wrists behind and against the chair, locking you in place. Normally, you would’ve made a remark about your current position but you were filled with nothing but pure fear and dread for what’s to come. The other members were more than amused with your predicament. Jake and Riki had whipped out their phones, already filming as they giggled nonstop. 

“Look, we can talk about this. How about I buy you anything you want and you let me go? How does that sound?” You pleaded, trying to free yourself but it was futile. 

Jungwon sighed, now standing right before you with an expectant look on his face. “You need to get your mouth sore treated or it won’t go away. Unless you want to continue living with the pain then go ahead.” 

You scowled, muttering a string of curses under your breath and reluctantly opened your mouth wide enough for the other to see. Jungwon leaned closer, narrowing his eyes to see better. Your shoulders instinctively tensed, mentally bracing yourself for the pain. But no matter how prepared you are, you visibly jumped in your seat the moment you felt the sting. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, cursing at the top of your lungs. You kicked out your legs—a poor attempt to distract yourself from the lingering pain. You were aware of how everyone’s eyes were on you now but you didn’t care. 

“Alright, one more time and then you’re done,” Jungwon encouraged, but his words had the opposite effect. 

“Yang Jungwon, I hope you know I’ll find you after my last breath,” you warned him, opening your mouth for the second time. 

“Stop being dramatic, you won’t die,” he light-heartedly rolled his eyes, gently dabbing the tip of the cotton bud on the exact same spot. 

Just like before, shockwaves of excruciating pain hit you like a lightning bolt. You swore you nearly passed out from it. Heeseung moved to untie your wrists and the moment you were freed, you dropped to the ground and slammed your fists on it, to distract yourself from the pain. When you were done, you laid there, limbs spread out like a starfish. 

“(Name), get up. The floor’s dirty,” Jungwon chided, reaching out his hand towards you. You accepted his help, allowing him to pull you up. He pressed kisses all over your face, ignoring the fake gagging sounds Riki made at the display of affection. 

“You’re really brave for doing it. I’m proud of you,” he murmured. His words made you smiled, as you buried your face in his chest and hugged him. 

[gh0stly-mp3]

hi!!! your works are so damn interesting and well written, you are great in this regard!! can i ask, if you don't mind, sae, rin, reo, ness and kaiser with a calm gentleman s/o (headcanons but a scenario is good too)??? because they DESERVE the sweetest person in their life. just an s/o who takes care of them, does all sorts of gallant things like opening doors, pulling out chairs, like "flowers on dates are THE must" and so on??? i hope everything is fine with you, stay like that!!! 🩷

Hiii! Thanks! Especially for saying that my works are well-written, I'm trying to improve my English writing skills and this cheers me up a lot! ♡ - I love this idea btw, gentleman reader is one of my fav tropes :))

Love like you -> bllk hcs

bllk boys x s/o gn!reader

synopsis: how some bllk boys react to you being a gentleman to them and treating them well

tags: blue lock headcanons, fluff, comfort, gentle reader, calm reader, slice of life, kinda established relationship

warnings: manga spoilers, mature language

characters: sae, rin, reo, ness and kaiser + bonus: kurona

a/n: i love doing requests hehe (they're open btw)

masterlist.

Sae Itoshi ~ ♡

Sae would try not to show how much he loves when you take care of him and treat him like he's your prince (beacause he really is). But damn! He adores it! His favorite thing is when you bring him breakfast in bed.

He's used to being treated very cordially, always having people open doors and do everything for him, which he doesn't care much about. But, when you do it (because you love him and not because he's famous), he has conflicting feelings.

At the same time that he loves to feel personally cared for by you, he tries not to show it and keeps up the pose of "you're doing this because I'm a celebrity, not because you love me," but - deep down - his heart is warmed.

Rin Itoshi ~ ♡

Rin thinks you're so perfect, but It would take a long time for him to respond to your affection, but eventually he begins to appreciate your gentle actions and, when he has the courage, approaches you to be by your side.

He gets a little shy when you open doors or pull out chairs for him, but try not to show you. He's too afraid to get close to you and feel safe around you, just so that in the end you abandon him.

The greatest act of chivalry with Rin is to show him your love without wanting anything in return and giving him space in moments of vulnerability. The only vulnerable situation he lets you get close to him is when he's sick, where he lets you hold him.

Reo Mikage ~ ♡

People tend to treat Reo very well when they discover how many things can he buy before even looking the price. So when you showed him gentleness and care, he quickly asked - "how the hell did you know?" - but to his surprised, you didn't know about anything.

He tried to buy you things, thanking your time and consideration for his well being. But then you continued, and worse... You rejected his attemps to pay for your things.

That was a huge surprise, and after this, Reo started to get more and more nervous when you bought flowers for him. You were not serving him, you were not there for a reward, you were not interested in status. Rather, you were loving him for what and who he was.

Michael Kaiser ~ ♡

It's difficult for a prodigy to love anyone, as everybody is, technically, bellow him. Kaiser treats you well, better than he treats everyone else. But you don't let his false ego brush off your determination. Perhaps, one would need more than gentleness to get into his heart, but you know that's too much work for what he really needs. Actually, you were already inside. You just needed to make him understand how much you loved him.

So, you bring him flowers and gifts; you watch, careful, when both of you cross the street; you even brush his hair when he doesn't feel like it. But, unlike all the others, you aren't interested in the champion. You don't bow and let the title he grasps so hardly dominate you.

And he observes in horror the blue color of the roses on the table. And he turns his blushed cheeks away when a car passes by and you put your hands on his chest. And he inches with the warm of your hands on his hair. And he lets you love him, but refuses to step out of his cave.

You know he will, eventually.

Alexis Ness ~ ♡

Ness was confused, surprised and even a bit annoyed with the first time you pulled a chair for him. He was careful not to fall on a prank but when he sit, you simply smiled. He was used to serve you, never him, it was always about you. And suddenly, someone got a glass of water for him. For him. He didn't ask. He didn't even hint on anything. You simply said how hot it was. He must have been thirsty.

Now he gets irritated everytime you make something for him. You were paying attention to his needs, to his attempts on hiding everything so he can make you happy. But sometimes, you catch a glimpse of him staring at you, smiling. (he lovess it, but don't tell him that)

+ bonus

Kurona ~ ♡

He always blush when you open doors or pull out chairs for him, and whenever you do it, he places a shy kiss on your cheek or forehead.

[jjjjeonww]

hong joshua - "Dear, Diary. Damn my academic rival."

genre - romance! ~~in which you've seen joshua as your academic rival for years, but lets see how he sees you in his perspective. (just wanted to switch it up a bit heh) a/n: this is a little thank you for 108 followers hehe<3!! also, this is a fic requested by the one and only, @hanniescookie! you keep coming up with amazing ideas and requests my angel, and im always happy and always honoured to complete them and be the person who receives them <3 ( @wonkierideul, here's your tag my lovie! you've had a tiring day, take a break and rest up. a junhui fic will be coming soon, just for you🤍)

(remember, this is all in joshua's pov!) 28th December 2024 Dear Diary, Today I felt so stupid. Why? I couldn't take my eyes off Y/n as she pored over the latest batch of data, her brows were furrowed in concentration. The flickering lamplight casted shadows across her face, it highlighted the curve of her cheekbones. Honestly, to me, Y/n was a vision of focus and intellect, a force to be reckoned with. And damn if she didn't look gorgeous in the process.

When she glanced up and caught me staring, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It was a rare sight, that smile... but it was all the more devastating for its infrequency. I felt my heart stutter in my chest, my breath hitched slightly as I drank in the sight of her.

"You've got that look again," I said. I have no idea how, or why my voice came out more huskily than I intended. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Like when Tom thinks he can finally eat Jerry. What are you so smug about?"

I saw her smile widening, a glint of mischief appeared in her eyes. "I'm not smug," she said, and I know I heard the stupid note of false innocence in her tone. "I'm just...satisfied with my progress." Note by Joshua: (As if she could do any better than me. Well, she did do better than me this time. Won't let it happen the next!)

5th January 2025 Dear Diary, Today we got our test results. Obviously I looked around to find Y/n and to see her reaction to her grade, only to find her right next to me, holding up her test results, the paper rustled softly in her hand. I leaned forward to see, my glasses slipping down my nose as I squinted at the numbers. My jaw clenched as I took in the scores - hers were higher than mine, by a margin that made my gut twist with reluctant admiration.

"What?" I scoffed, pushing my glasses back up. "You've beaten me again?" I leaned back in my chair, and crossed my arms over my chest. "Damn you Y/n. Next time... don't get too comfortable. I'm not going to let you stay ahead for long." Her smile turned into a full-blown grin, those eyes... they sparkled with that familiar competitive fire. "I wouldn't expect anything less," she said, a note of challenge in her voice. "But don't worry, Joshua. I have no intention of making this easy for you. I want to see you push yourself, to reach for even greater heights."

I felt a surge of determination, a fierce need to prove myself and rise to her challenge. But beneath that, I felt something else, something softer and more intense. A longing to see that smile on her face again and to keep this fire alive. Note by Joshua: (I guess I got another longing; For her to stop calling me by my name and instead call me 'hers'. And I'm cringing at my own joke haha! until next time diary!) 13th January 2025 Dear Diary, The days have turned into weeks, and my isolation and forced collaboration with Y/n only seemed to intensify the charged atmosphere between us. We clashed over theories and methods, our voices raised in heated debate as we paced the confines of the cabin. The air grew thick with tension, but it was a different kind of tension than before. There was an undercurrent of something else, something that made my skin prickle and my heart race.

Note by Joshua: (Today's note of 'love' was a short one. Guess our isolation was bigger than our forced proximity.) 27th January 2025 Dear Diary, Something happened this evening. As I was reviewing our notes by the flickering fireplace, I glanced up to see Y/n staring at the flames, a distant look on her face. She looked gorgeous in the firefight, shadows dancing across her delicate features and highlighting the curve of her lips. I found myself wondering what she was thinking about, what dreams or fantasies played behind those captivating eyes.

"You know," I said softly, to me, my voice was barely audible over the crackling of the flames, "sometimes I wonder what goes on in that brilliant mind of yours."

And she turned to face me, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

I felt a smirk tug at my own lips, a hint of playfulness entering my voice. "I think about it more than I should," I admitted, my gaze locked with hers. "Especially when you look at me like that."

Her smile widened, a soft blush coloured her cheeks. "Like what?" she asked, a note of innocence in her voice belied by the heat in her eyes.

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, my eyes never leaving hers. "Like you're trying to figure me out," I murmured. "Like you're seeing right through me, past all the bravado and the competition, to the heart of who I am."

I watched how her breath hitched, and how she swallowed hard. "Maybe I am," she whispered, her voice was barely audible. "Maybe I want to know what makes you tick, Joshua. What drives you, what you dream about, what you...want."

I felt my heart pound in my chest, a fierce longing surging through me. I wanted to tell her everything, to lay bare the secrets of my soul and hope that she would do the same. But I held back, I didn't want to scare her off. Note by Joshua: (Maybe next time, we'll see what'll unfold for me and Y/n. But hey, at least today's 'love' note was a long one right?)

[joyful-soul-collector]

It'll Be Fine: Chapter 1

Summary:

It’ll be fine. It didn't have to be bad this time. He could dress as warm as possible, he could start paying to take the tram. It would hurt his wallet but he wouldn't have to be cold for as long. And that was ideal. Anything to stay out of the cold. OR Jayce is terrified of winter. But he has a crush on his lab partner, Viktor. So when Viktor invites him to a winter festival, Jayce decides he can brute force his way through the night, just like he does with everything else.

Tag List: @ihavea-natural-curiosity @milkywaysipper @fangirlshenanigans04 @voxconcordia @beetpatchkids @amiableamos (let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list!)

Link to Ao3!

Trigger Warnings: anxiety/phobia/PTSD surrounding the cold and winter

Winter came to Piltover like a shadow. Dark, and silent, blocking out the warm sun’s light. Jayce had been eyeing the skies for a couple weeks now. It'd been a few months since he started his research with Viktor under Heimerdinger's supervision. He loved it so far, he really did. There was something so nice about finally meeting someone who had the same passion and drive for science that he did. He hadn’t realized it was something he was missing before. 

But more and more recently, he wished he didn't have to come to the lab. It meant having to walk through the city of Piltover, watching the sky grow darker and feeling the air grow colder every day. Snow had yet to show its ugly face, but it wouldn't be long now. 

It’ll be fine. It didn't have to be bad this time. He could dress as warm as possible, he could start paying to take the tram. It would hurt his wallet but he wouldn't have to be cold for as long. And that was ideal. Anything to stay out of the cold. 

Well… not anything, not anymore. In years past, there would be days where he was far too terrified to step foot outside, he’d miss classes, miss events, all to avoid what he was certain was a frozen wasteland outside his front door. 

But he couldn’t do that this time. Not with so much on the line. Not with Viktor waiting for him at the lab. 

He never wanted to miss a day with him. 

It’ll be fine. 

This is what he thought over and over, as a mantra when he walked out the door and headed to the labs. If he just told himself it’ll be fine, there was no real reason for it to not be fine, right? Even as a chilly breeze blew against his neck, and his hands started to go numb from the cold air. Seeing his breath fog in the air was enough to send his heart pounding but he made it to the lab soon enough to keep his panic at bay. 

He must've shut the door to the lab a bit harder than he thought because Viktor looked up at him with a start, pulling up his goggles. His honey-amber eyes looked Jayce up and down analytically, just as they looked at everything in this world. 

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, it's just freezing out there,” Jayce said, putting on a smile and a laugh. It felt tight on his face and in his throat, like wearing a coat that was too small. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, walking further into the warmth of the room. 

“I suppose so,” Viktor said with a shrug. “It could be colder, I've always liked winter. At least, in Piltover. Winter in the Undercity is miserable.” 

“I bet,” Jayce said, putting on another tight laugh, and internally wondering how the hell one could possibly like winter. “What are we working on today?”

“Well the hexgates blueprints need adjusting as the rune combination doesn't seem quite right…” 

And with that Jayce soon forgot all about the coming winter outside. It was always easy to forget his worries in the lab with Viktor. He could let his mind be carried away by calculations and theories, and Viktor always helped fan the fire in his heart for science. Viktor himself was always nice to be around too. His mind was nothing short of beautiful. 

But as the sun started to go down, Jayce felt the anxiety creep in again. When the sun went down it was colder. Much colder, and he still had to walk home. Normally he'd be fine staying up late, maybe even sleeping in the lab, but… It would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Sleeping in the lab just because he was afraid of the cold? And it was stupid, being afraid of the cold anyway. He can go out, go home, it'll be fine. 

Especially if he left before the sun went down. It'll be fine. 

Viktor looked up as Jayce began gathering his things.

“Heading out? Already?” he asked.

“Oh--Yeah I-I should probably head home before it gets too dark,” Jayce said, cringing slightly at the shake in his voice. Why did it do that, there's no need for it to do that. 

“Oh,” Viktor said, sounding a little disappointed. Jayce’s heart fluttered a little, excited by the idea that maybe Viktor didn’t want him to leave. “Well before you go I meant to ask you something.”

Jayce turned around as Viktor stood up and walked over to him, fishing something out of his pocket. He handed it to Jayce with a smile. 

“It is a winter festival,” Viktor said, pointing to the flyer. “It's in a week, I wondered if you might want to attend?” 

Jayce swallowed. A winter festival. Of all things. Sure, Jayce had been thinking, rather often, about being with Viktor outside the lab, but a winter festival? The flyer said it went from 6pm to midnight. Booths, food, games, ice sculptures even… 

He thought he might be sick. It's okay, he can make up an excuse, maybe his mom is planning something for that night, or Caitlyn needs help with schoolwork, something like that, it would be fine, he could just--

He made the mistake of looking at Viktor's face. Goddammit if he didn't look so hopeful. His amber eyes were so excited, so eager, Jayce had only seen him look like this for the sake of science. Again his heart skipped a beat, knowing that he was looking at Jayce with the expression he normally reserved for arcane discoveries. He really wanted Jayce to come with him, didn't he? 

“Sure,” Jayce said, trying his best to match Viktor's excitement. “It sounds like fun!” 

Viktor grinned. 

“I'm sure it will be!” 

Viktor rambled on for a moment or two about the festival, how fun it was, how he’d discovered it his first year living in Piltover and came every year since. His excitement wasn’t enough to quell Jayce’s growing nausea at the idea, but he put on a tight smile again for Viktor’s sake. Eventually, he and Jayce said their goodbyes and Jayce started on his way home, doing his best to beat the sun on the way. 

It'll be fine, he thought, trying to ignore the sharp air against his face. He could dress in layers. He could have a warm drink while he's there. There would probably be fires to stand by, he could bring his warmer to press against his chest before he leaves, he could bring gloves, make sure his hands never get too cold. Really, it would be fine. 

Jayce thought up this plan and many others as he quickly walked home, making it in the door just as the sun set completely. His hands were numb again, and his chest felt cold from the icy air. He checked over his hands quickly, before shaking them out and walking to the sink, letting his hands run under the warm tap for a moment. He lit a fire under his chimney and set the kettle on the stove before wrapping himself tight in a blanket. He ignored how shaky his breath was, and did his best to forget about the ache in his muscles. 

It couldn't get much colder in just a week, right?

[satorella]

“𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

𝐑𝐞𝐨 has been coming into the coffee shop you worked at, at least twice a day. You thought he either really loved your shop’s coffee beans… or he was just a caffeine addict.

But unbeknownst to you, he really only comes to see you…

“Good morning, Mr. Mikage! The usual?” You smiled up at him. His heart skipped a beat when you said his name. For the past month he had been coming into the shop, he had never actually heard you say it. It was always one of the other barista’s who would call out for his order. He nodded, “Yes please. And whatever scone flavor you guys have today.” He pulls out his wallet. “Sure thing!” You rang up his order and handed him his receipt. He took the receipt, and just stared at it. He should just ask you out on a date already… or at least ask for your number. He fidgeted with the receipt nervously for a moment. You smiled politely, “Need anything else?” After a moment of contemplating, he opened his mouth to speak, “Um… I don’t mean to bother, but… could I ask you something?” “Of course!” He had to at least TRY to ask you out. He was a soccer player after all, wasn’t he supposed to be fearless? Plus, he was the heir of the Mikage Corporation. A billionaire. He should be able to ask a pretty girl out and not be afraid of rejection. “Would you… give me your phone number?” You blinked up at him, a light shade of pink coloring your cheeks. “M-My number?” Reo immediately started to internally panic. He swallowed down his anxiety, and managed to stay calm. “Yeah… I-I mean, only if you want. I just… um… I go here a lot because I… I really like the coffee. But also because I…” Fuck fuck fuck. His palms were starting to sweat. What was so hard about confessing that he thought you were pretty? That he wanted to get to know you? Luckily for him, you got the hint and chuckled. “Say no more. Here…” You printed out a plain piece of receipt paper and wrote your number down.

Weeks turned into a couple of months, and before you knew it, the two of you had become an official couple. Neither of you had ever been in a relationship you could genuinely call “healthy”, but things with you were different. They were perfect.

Currently, he was at your apartment. He cooked you dinner earlier, (he learned how to cook just for you), and now the two of you were cuddling on the couch watching a horror movie. He smiled and planted a kiss on top of your head as you snuggled up to him; pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you. For a moment, he tried paying attention to the movie… but he just couldn’t. Not when your scent was filling his nostrils and he could feel your skin against his. You curled into him more, and tilted your head back to look up at him with soft eyes. Reo looked down at you, and the moment your eyes met, a tingle of electricity shot through him. You two have been dating for months now, yet he still couldn’t get enough of the way you looked at him. He lifted a hand to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, and then his thumb gently caressed your cheek. “I love you, Reo.” You said in a low voice, full of contentment. He smiled, and his heart leapt in his chest. He still couldn’t believe such a perfect, beautiful girl like you could genuinely love someone as spoiled as him. But that was a thought for later. Right now… he was in the moment with you, and there was nothing else in the world he cared about. “I love you too.” He whispered back to you, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses on your lips, cheeks, jawline, and down your neck; making you giggle and squeal.

“Let me show you just how much.”

You were, without a doubt, his new dream…

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list here!

[phoenixpascal]

@justalovingfan girl I was gonna leave this alone but let me tell you where you fucked up at, and I know you're going to try to claim it's not you, and what am i talking about, and I'm crazy, and i just don't want anyone to say anything bad about Coco and Pedro, I could give two fucks of a damn but what you're not going to do is act like you not messy, when you really are and not even in the good way. That wide angle photo of Pedro and Coco and that guide in Malta that you posted, no one else has that it wasn't posted anywhere else. Now I know what you're going to do, you're going to try to claim it was in the original post that the girl posted, but most people don't remember, because she deleted it. you think you're good and in the clear, but I take screenshots of everything especially that so I know what she posted and that ain't it.

Yet here you are the only person who has the wide angle of that photo.

So clearly you are the one who took it because you are in fact Missy AKA purple nails.

And again you're going to try to say it's not you I don't know what I'm talking about, but even you're tag name is from your own posting

Two Loving fans just trying to show how much they care.. "just a loving fan" come on it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Also the way you are going into great detail about her being from Portugal and only being in Miami for a short time, all we knew about was the Miami part especially since less than several hours after posting that rant she deleted it, so no one has anything besides screenshots of the picture of Pedro, and her rant even on tiktok, so you knowing that she's born and raised in Portugal, and other personal details about her that besides her handle on Instagram, and these posts no one knows about? come on you gave yourself away with that, and your in-depth step by step adventures in Malta.

Also that screenshot of Coco explaining to you what happened and she apologized why are you still mad almost a year later? Explain how in this purple nails AKA Missy AKA YOU tell Coco you're upset that Pedro was rude to you remember nowhere in this does she say Coco was mean to her AKA you, you even called her sweetheart at the end

But then in this you're blaming the cold interaction all on Coco? Like how you tell her to mind her own business when you AKA Missy AKA purple nails went in her DMS and sent it to her? Like are you okay in the head? are you good?do you need to see a psychiatrist?

You started this account last year so I'm going to take a guess and say that, that G2 premiere was the trigger wasn't it? it brought back those unpleasant Malta memories of the time being a crazy fan bit you in the ass 🤣.

[inellz]

「 ✦ homework ✦ 」

quackity x reader

warnings : none !

tags ~ kissing, fluff, & kind of romantic (??)

It was the kind of homework assignment you dreaded—partnered with someone you didn’t know well, forced to work together on something that, frankly, you couldn’t care less about. When you saw Quackity’s name appear on the list of partners, you groaned. You knew him from mutual friends, and while he was funny and all, he could be… a bit much. He was loud, often sarcastic, and definitely a little too confident for your liking.

He was chaotic, loud, and often distracted by anything shiny or exciting. You, on the other hand, liked things organized and straightforward. But, hey, maybe this would be a good way to push each other’s boundaries, right?

You agreed to meet at his house to work on the assignment, and when you arrived, Quackity greeted you with that signature mischievous grin.

“Well, well, look who actually showed up,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I didn’t think you were brave enough to work with me.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” you replied flatly, walking past him into the house. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You both settled into his room, however, it didn’t take long for the conversation to shift from academic to argumentative.

The two of you sat down at his desk, books and papers scattered around. You started to discuss the project, but it didn’t take long before Quackity started pulling his usual antics.

“You know, I was thinking we could just—” He interrupted you before you could finish.

“No. That’s a terrible idea,” you said, not even bothering to hide your annoyance. “We need a solid plan, not whatever that is.”

“I really think we should start with the presentation,” Quackity suggested, continuing his cut off sentence from earlier, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, an irritating smirk on his face.

“I disagree,” you shot back, brows furrowed with annoyance. “We need solid research before we even think about the presentation part. It’s pointless otherwise!”

“Oh, come on! You’re just being difficult!” He chuckled, defiantly rolling his eyes.

“Me? Difficult? Look who’s talking!” Your cheeks flushed with frustration. The playful banter soon transformed into a heated disagreement, the tension between you both reaching almost palpable levels.

“I’m telling you, we should focus on the presentation first,” Quackity insisted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, a playful smirk lighting up his face.

“And I’m saying we need to nail down the research part before anything else! Without the content, the presentation will fall flat,” you retorted, frustration creeping into your voice.

A glimmer of mischief sparked in his eyes. “Wow, someone’s a little bossy today. It’s not like it’s a dictatorship, you know.”

“Excuse me? Just because you think this is a joke doesn’t mean I can’t take it seriously!” You shot back, your cheeks warming with irritation.

His laughter filled the room, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something that hinted at the tension brewing beneath the surface. You noticed how his eyes sparkled with an intense playfulness, making you acutely aware of the distance between you.

Quackity’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, I’m taking it seriously. You’re the one ruining everything. Lighten up.”

You couldn’t believe how dismissive he was being. “Maybe you should try thinking for once. Just because you talk big game doesn’t mean you actually know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if you want to keep playing it safe and being boring, be my guest.” he says as he gets closer to you.

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, irritation mixing with something else—something you weren’t willing to admit. “I’m not boring. I just want to get this done without you derailing it.”

“Well, you’re not really my type of person anyway,” he said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair as if he’d won some kind of victory. “You’re so uptight.”

That was it. You couldn’t take another second of his dismissive attitude. You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping the floor loudly. “You’re unbelievable,” you spat, gathering your things into your bag. “I’m done. I’m not wasting any more time on this with you. You clearly don’t care, so I’m leaving.”

You didn’t even wait for a response. You turned, heading straight for the door, your frustration boiling over. You weren’t going to sit here and let him ruin your day, your project, everything. You just wanted to get away from him, even if it was for a little while.

But as you reached for the door, Quackity’s voice stopped you.

“Wait, hold on—” His footsteps were quick behind you, and before you knew it, he had grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly, trying to stop you.

“No,” you snapped, your voice sharp with anger. “Let go. You’ve made it clear you don’t give a damn about this project, or anything I’m saying. So don’t try to act like you care now.”

His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you could see the shift in his expression. The usual cocky grin was gone, replaced with something… different. Guilt? Regret? But you weren’t in the mood to care about his feelings. Not when he’d been so dismissive of yours.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to upset you, really. I just… I don’t know, I thought it’d be more fun, y’know?”

You shook your wrist out of his grip, not looking at him. “Well, it’s not fun for me when you keep treating everything like a joke.”

You turned back towards the door, but before you could even open it, Quackity was already in front of you, blocking your path.

“What are you—” You started, but your words were cut off when he reached for your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the door.

You stared at him, heart racing, the sudden closeness leaving you breathless. Quackity’s usual cockiness was gone, replaced by a seriousness that you didn’t expect. His face was inches from yours, his breath just as uneven as yours. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

“I’m sorry,” Quackity said again, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to push you like that. I didn’t think you’d get so mad.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could even process what was happening, he was closer, too close, with that cocky smirk still plastered on his face.

You glared at him, but there was a flicker of something in your chest that you couldn’t quite ignore. “Maybe you should think before you speak,” you muttered, your anger still lingering, but mixing with an unexpected tension.

Quackity’s gaze softened, and he exhaled, clearly trying to collect himself. “I’m not good at this… I’m not good at knowing when to stop. But I don’t want you to leave.” He swallowed, his grip on your shoulders loosening, as if he was afraid of pushing you too far.

You felt the heat between you both intensify, the distance closing as he stayed right there, still watching you, unsure. Something shifted in that moment—the sharp anger you felt turned into something else, something that left you confused and unsure.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

Quackity, after a long silence, leaned in slowly, testing the waters. His lips brushed against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. At first, you froze, your anger still lingering, but then it dissolved, just a little. His kiss deepened, his hand reaching up to cup your face, and you found yourself responding, all that tension from before turning into something almost… soft.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing heavily, still pressed against the wall, his forehead resting against yours.

“See?” he said smugly, his usual cockiness back in full force. “Told you I’d make things interesting.”

You wiped your mouth, still processing what just happened. “You’re still a pain,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words now. You could feel your heart racing, but you couldn’t quite figure out what to do with this new tension between you two.

Quackity raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your shift in energy. “Oh, I know I’m funny. But you? You’re just… cute when you’re angry.” “Now you’re thinking about me,” he teased, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly pleased look on his face. “You’ll get used to it.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but despite everything—despite the frustration and the tension—you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t look at him the same way again.

“Well,” you said, standing up and gathering your things, “We still need to finish this project. But you’re lucky I’m not leaving you for being an insufferable jerk.”

“Oh, you know you love it,” Quackity shot back with a wink. “Now, let’s get this over with, so we can celebrate later.”

[29daffodils]

to plot or to not plot, that's the question

there's post under the tag that... really tickled my brain because i somewhat agree with it. but not entirely, considering i do still believe OP sounds... i dunno, something, while they are telling FK stans to “have some dignity”. so I'll just add to that, because i think fan interpretation and looking deep into a story is important, than say, just being fed all the info.

now let's start with saying i am a FKT stan and I'll be somewhat biased in my approach, but i will still try to keep this as neutral as possible.

that said, i do think jojo's writing needs improvement. a looooooot of improvement. the other day i was complaining to my friend @skyfish7 how jojo tends to use serious topics as plot devices and then does nothing with them. also the fact that he has a flair for drama and usually seems to include it in places to engage the viewers but he handles it poorly (boeing, I'm looking at you bitchass) or simply doesn't conclude them well (kant's phobia, bison's bdsm shtick, etc, i know we still have 2 eps left, don't kill me yet).

i do think OP was coming from a genuine place but also, i will take the time to defend jojo here too. because THK is not all trash. joong and dunk's characters are visibly seen to be falling in love, whereas first and khaotung's are more subtle.

i know what OP means by saying that it's still hard to believe that kant is in love with bison. because part of me feels that too. i believe a lot of it is because we do not see any detailed development where it's needed or it is skipped over in favour for more drama. like i said, jojo tends to gravitate towards big impactful scenes but he does not lay out the finer details. i am choosing to think that's just his writing style and not him just being a terrible writer. as my girl sky said, it leaves something to the viewer's imagination. and yes, she's right and i agree. spoon feeding every bit of a story is lame and boring, but sometime you do need to add little details where they are needed.

if you've already read my post about how THK seems to be losing steam, you might know what I'm talking about.

I'm very much convinced that this could have done well with a binge watch or if it were in movie format. but imo there's too many things going on with the focus distributed disproportionately among them, which in turn, i think, kinda makes the character development take backseat.

but let me add something about bikant because OP seems to be under the impression that they are simply trash.

jojo tends to make the falling in love subtle. at least for his FK characters. in bikant's case, they were both already smitten with each other from the first meeting. especially kant. he was head over heels for bison and it was very visible. it was deliberately shown. so when he does start the mission of getting dirt on him, the most visible emotion we see from kant is guilt. nothing else but guilt. and that is because it's already established he likes bison as a person. kant's character is written as someone who compartmentalizes things so even when he does find out bison's a hitman and there's proof (we see him staring horrified at the corkboard in their house) he quickly dismisses it. we repeatedly see style telling us that kant is smitten with bison. why? because kant doesn't have the mental capacity to think about romance right now, so it's style who tells the viewers his friend is wrapped around bison's little finger. the time when we finally actually see him do anything remotely truthful is ep#7 — the bowling alley and northern lights scene. kant has successfully gathered all the info he can and now he knows he might lose bison. so this one night he actually goes and lets himself love truthfully. he does all the things he would have done after that first meeting with bison. and then when bison gets shot, that's when he realises what he actually wants. the hospital scene is an important one because it cements the fact that kant cares, kant is in love, but his brain hasn't caught up to the feeling yet the idea is there, the proof is there, but he hasn't had the reprieve to sit and think and let that love marinate well. it's why even when kant says that he loves bison, it's difficult for us to believe. it's difficult for bison to believe. remember, we are viewing the beach scene from bison's pov and he ultimately asks, “you are not fooling me again, are you?” and that is the question from the viewers as well.

“you are not fooling us again, are you, kant?”

so all bison and we can do is take kant at face value and choose to believe him. that's all there is to it.

bison on the other hand? bro has been whipped since the first night. he is a hopeless romantic. he is an abused child hungering for love stuck in an adult's body. bison has been infatuated with kant from the get go, but he has also been suspicious and we have seen that suspicion slowly drop and build back up again time and time. but the moment bison actually spends all of ep#7 with kant and says, “i feel like my life is about to change”, that's him falling in love. that's him acknowledging that he is gone for good and he is finally choosing to believe kant despite the previous shady sus things he's done. bison had chosen to believe in him despite fadel warning him time and time again, and that's why the beach scene hits so hard. he is simply a fool in love. he is naive. he is the younger brother who doesn't know better. he just wanted to love, he loved and he got duped into being loved back (we all know that wasn't the case, but, bison POV like i said).

now, coming back to the point i was trying to make : do i think an extra tidbit of scene where kant's thought process was expanded on could have been better? yes.. maybe. but as a writer who likes to keep her readers interpreting and guessing, i choose to forgive jojo this time (as well). like i said, maybe this is just how he tends to write and honestly that's fine. every writer has a set of audience they are aiming for and i think there are plenty who enjoy his work (i do too, i just wish he'd tone down on the super big things suddenly being thrown in out of nowhere and then doing nothing with it).

and as far as sandray goes, boy do i have news for OP because ray is a classic example of a mentally ill abused child who is now an alcoholic and sand is a surrogate husband/caregiver growing up in poverty who puts himself last. that's their story. that's the story jojo wanted to tell, and i will rant about ray and sand and forgiveness (because OP thinks he is an asshole, so i want to make a point) but.... in a different post.

for now, this is it. i hope you forgive and understand kant. bro is trying and so are we.

[pretentious-reindeer]

Vocal Cords / Febuwhump Day 1

CW: whipping, blood, loss of voice, female whumpee, female whumper (please tell me if there's anything else I need to tag!) Word Count: 2k

----------

Deep eye bags sagged underneath Whumpee's eyes as she tinkered with the toaster on the cool marble surface. She stood over the dining room table, peering inside the machine. The darn thing refused to properly do its job:

Toast.

Well, it toasted, but it toasted too much.

After a week of Whumpee bringing Whumper bagels (she always brought Whumper breakfast every morning) that turned out burnt and black, Whumper finally put Whumpee up to the task of fixing the kitchen appliance. 

Whumpee’s conclusion laid on there being a problem with the timer. The toaster did its job, but Whumpee had noticed that it exceeded a considerable amount of time for a simple toasting. Whumper craved a precisely crispy bagel every morning, and she’d become grumpier and grumpier throughout the days without her bagels. 

With the timer decided upon as the problem, Whumpee set on tweaking the wires inside of the toaster. She wanted to figure out what was happening on the sensory side of things, first, before she moved onto actually moving the wires around. 

She felt like she was making headway, that is until a pair of polished black shoes made a slow entrance into the kitchen doorway. Whumpee didn’t need to look up to know who it was. She could smell his cologne from where she stood.

“Mornin’ Whumpee,” Villain yawned, stretching his arms over his head. 

Whumpee barely offered him the incline of her head as a response, and Villain frowned at the lack of reaction. 

“Bad mood?” He asked, casually—walking, with all the swagger in the world—as he opened up the cabinet and pulled out a glass.

He swung the fridge open, his eyes searching for the orange juice. He tsked under his breath. “Are we out of OJ already? I could’ve sworn…” He let out an aggravated sigh, before pulling out the milk instead.

“It’ll have to do,” he muttered, almost mournfully. He glanced at Whumpee as he poured the liquid into the glass. “How come you aren’t in a good mood today?” 

Whumpee shrugged, keeping her eyes focused on the contents of the microwave, and her hands steady with tweezers as she gently scooted one of the wires over to the side.

Villain’s lips pursed, turning into a pout. “Oh, come on. Did I do something? I have no idea what. I’ve only dropped by twice this week.”

Still no response and Villain’s prodding continued, “I can’t imagine how my two visits this week provoked you.”

Villain walked to the other side of the counter, near the doorway, and leaned onto the marble surface. His elbows propped up on the table as he lazily dangled his glass in one hand. “What’s the matter?” 

Whumpee heard the faint tap of the floorboard and made sure to keep her head down. 

“She can’t talk.” Whumper’s leaning form said from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she lazily tilted her head back.

Villain turned his head towards her and smiled in greeting.

“Hello, Whumper. Is she not allowed to talk right now?” He asked, politely. Always polite with Whumper.

Villain might’ve not been Whumpee’s hope and savior in getting her out of Whumper’s claws, but he never expressed pleasure at her suffering—sometimes he’d even go out of his way to minimize it, sweet talking Whumper his specialty. 

Of course. Villain only dropped by a few times a week, he wasn’t always there to calm Whumper and her anger. 

Not last night, at least.

The basement’s jagged floor dug into Whumpee’s knees, as she cowered from the monstrosity in front of them. The whip brushed against the ground, and dread filled every bone in Whumpee's body. Bile clawed up her throat, and she had to force herself to swallow repeatedly to keep the nasty taste down.

Whumper rolled her shoulders, tilting her head up at the ceiling. “Mm… I really need to stretch my muscles out.” She murmured, as her eyes landed on Whumpee’s quivering form below her. “And aren’t you just the most considerately relieving option for me?”

Whumpee didn’t respond, and Whumper cracked the whip down beside her, almost striking her. She flinched, hard. “Y-Yes…” Whumpee hurriedly agreed. 

Whumper’s eyes narrowed, “I think this session will be particularly refreshing for me.” She said, matter-of-fact.

She placed the whip between her thighs, and picked up her noise-cancelling headphones from the singular square table in the corner. Slipping them on, she then fished her phone out of her jean pocket and picked out a song from her Spotify playlist. She held the volume button until Whumpee could hear the faint beat of The Neighborhood playing from the headphones. 

Despite Whumpee’s current, distasteful position, she still questioned Whumper’s music taste. She’d never expected Whumper to be the “Sweater Weather” and “Reflections” type. Actually, she’d never expected Whumper to torture her to the two songs. It almost felt... laughable, in a way. Unserious. Sadistic tendencies paired with indie-extravaganza? This whole situation all felt so wrong to Whumpee. All so horribly wrong.

When Whumper spoke, Whumpee could tell she couldn’t quite hear herself over the headphones by the way her voice pitched upwards, louder. Not yelling, but not her usual medium. “How about we see if I can hear your screams through my headphones, hm? Maybe I’ll stop if your begs are loud enough to reach my ears.” 

She snapped the whip, and smiled darkly—relishing in the way Whumpee jolted.

Whumpee’s stomach flipped with anticipation.  

She knew a long session awaited her. 

Whumpee’s fingers twitched as the unwanted memory forced its way into her mind.

“Oh, she can't physically talk at the moment. Lost her voice after last night."

Villain blinked, and Whumper's smile turned razor sharp. "She begged so beautifully. I wish you would’ve been there to hear her.” Whumper mused. “There were times I could actually hear her through the music.” Villain hesitated. “Music?” Whumpee felt the quick glance he shot at her. She averted her gaze though, perhaps to save herself the embarrassment of meeting his eyes. 

“Oh, yes.” Whumper said. “It was playing quite loudly in my ears. A little flair to our little session, you know?” 

Villain nodded, though the smile he shot her didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah… Flair and all that.”

Whumper smiled pleasantly in response, before her gaze landed on Whumpee. 

Whumpee could feel the heat of her gaze piercing into her very skull. She didn’t dare look up, she wasn’t sure she could with Whumper’s gaze on her like that.

“Whumpee,” Whumper addressed, and Whumpee froze. “Take off your shirt. I want you to show Villain your back.” 

Villain half-expected Whumpee to object—be it silently—but, to his utter surprise, the usually oh-so-defiant Whumpee turned so her back faced Villain and brought her hands into a downward X as both sides grabbed the hem of her hoodie. She hesitated—pausing. Whumper tapped her foot against the floor, impatient at Whumpee’s reluctance.

A memory flashed in Whumpee’s mind.

With the sharp crack of the whip against her skin, Wumpee’s vision leaked black at the edges. 

An icy wave of water poured down on her and she came up sputtering and coughing. Her arms pushed her back up on her knees. Had she passed out?

Her back stung. It stung so bad.

The water reopened the delicate wounds on her back and blood dripped down into the drain beneath her.

Whumper tossed the bucket to the side, the bang it made against the wall resulted in a flinch from Whumpee. It rolled to a standstill, now discarded to the side. 

Whumpee turned her head to find Whumper running her hands through the rough texture of the whip, folding it. Her dark eyes settled onto Whumpee’s trembling form. The music blasting through her headphones all too loud in Whumpee’s ringing ears. 

It felt like an anchor had just hooked around Whumpee’s stomach and was trying to pull Whumpee under, trying to drag her to a pit of despair.

Whumper wasn’t done yet.

Even though she’d passed out. Whumper always stopped after she passed out!

But… she wasn’t done.

How long would Whumper keep this up? What would happen when Whumpee didn’t have a voice to beg anymore?

With that dreadful thought in mind, Whumper spoke, her tone surprisingly even—leveled—not too high, not too low. “Shall we continue, then? You’ve only taken, maybe, twenty five lashes so far… If that." She pondered something for a moment. "Perhaps, you should count? Hm... I think you should. And be loud about it, okay? If I can’t hear you then I can’t know if you’ve counted correctly.”

The anchor pulled Whumpee’s stomach even lower, and Whumper continued speaking, "I barely heard you last round. And you know I like you vocal. So, try to be better for me. Alright, darling?”

Whumper smiled a cold smile down at Whumpee, her eyes glinting with something cruel and sadistic as she stared into Whumpee’s wide eyes. She took note of Whumpee's speechlessness, the way her lips parted halfway.

“Let’s start again.”

Whumpee’s mouth went dry, the anchor dropping her stomach impossibly lower. “Wait, wait, Whumper-” 

With a hard flick of her wrist, Whumper uncoiled the whip. “Whumper, please! D-Don’t- UGH!” The whip cracked against Whumpee's spine, and her back arched against the pain. Blood splattered on the floor and wall next to Whumpee. Her eyes watered as she focused on the built-in drain in front of her. Her blood would soon be flowing down its pipe. The thought made her stomach churn. “Count.” Whumper commanded, and Whumpee rushed to obey. 

“One!” 

But Whumper just whipped her again. “I can’t hear you, Whumpee. Again. Count.”

“Whumper, please-” She begged, but to no avail. Because as the whip snapped against her back once more, eliciting a strangled scream from Whumpee’s lips, she knew it was no use. 

Whumper couldn’t hear her. 

Whumpee blinked, the fresh memory fading. Her fingers twitched at the hem of her sweatshirt, her hand trembling in anticipation. She bit the inside of her cheek, before pulling her sweatshirt over her head—her criss-crossed arms coming up from their intersecting X-shape and vertically parallel over her head. 

She lowered her hands at her sides, hoodie held in one hand—letting it partially drape over the floor. Whumpee’s grip tightened on the hoodie when she heard the barely-audible gasp escape Villain’s lips.

Whumpee hadn’t gotten the honor of seeing the massacre done on her back, but she already knew it was bad. Flesh still torn and mangled—raw. She couldn’t even sit down in a chair, or put any pressure on her back without the risk of the tender wounds opening back up again. Her back throbbed constantly. If it weren’t for the painkillers pumping in her system at that moment, she could confidently say she wouldn’t be standing at that moment.

If she moved too much the wounds would reopen and bleed. After all, the only treatment Whumpee had done was standing with her back to the shower as the water poured down on her at the lowest possible setting. The blood had been endless, running down her body and into the drain. 

Villain cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I wonder… What Whumpee could have possibly done? To… deserve this.” 

Whumper shrugged. “I just felt like it.” 

Whumpee’s hand, holding her hoodie, twisted into a fist.

Whumper waved a dismissive hand at Villain’s silence. “Whumpee has a tendency for talking too much, wouldn’t you agree? And after my session with her, it’s a guarantee that her voice won’t be coming back anytime soon. So, honestly, just enjoy the silence while it lasts. It's a blessing, really.”

Villain forced a smile, keeping his voice light. “Right. Peace and quiet.”

“Right.” Whumper said, pleasantly. “Right, Whumpee?” She added, and Villain’s smile twitched. Whumpee just nodded in response.

That’s all she could do, right? 

The silence was deafening. 

“Well,” Whumper wiped at invisible dust on her pants. “I’m heading to the store. Is there anything you need, Villain?” 

“OJ, please.” He requested, politely. 

Whumper nodded, slipping her coat on and grabbing her purse from the dining room table—placed next to the broken toaster.

“Alright,” She grabbed her keys off the hook, “see you in twenty.” 

The click of the door sounded and for a long moment Villain and Whumpee just stood there. After a minute, though, Whumpee went to put her hoodie back on, lifting it over he head. Villain stopped her.

“Hey…" He started, surprisingly gently. He cleared his throat, "what if I bandage that up for you?” The offer was... unexpected.

On normal circumstances, Whumpee would’ve refused his help. But… She couldn’t bandage herself up. So, instead…

She nodded.

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

@febuwhump

[14dayswithyou]

Give Redacted a kiss for me!!!

Do you have any dark/creepy headcanons for Redacted? I’m very curious ^^

✦゜ANSWERED: I know you asked for [REDACTED] specifically, but everything mentioned below could also apply to Ren as well ^^;

cw: mentions of gore, torture, (one line about) cannibalism, NSFW themes, and just general creepy behaviour

I'm sure most people already know about Ren's red room days, but for the newer folks: he used to livestream himself torturing his victims on the dark web. He would also harvest and sell their organs for extra cash.

His red room phase began after a group of upperclassmen started livestreaming themselves bullying people (Angel included) for attention online. If those teens wanted a taste of online fame that badly, Ren would be all too happy to give it to them — especially after he heard all the degrading things they said about Angel during their stream.

Ren has probably sniffed (licked???) Angel's underwear on multiple occasions lmao

He also keeps a bunch of their discarded cups, mugs, bottles, etc. — and on the days when he's feeling especially lonely — Ren likes to put his lips where Angel's would've been and treat it like it's an indirect kiss.

If Angel is fine with it, Ren would be more than willing to carve his name into their skin. He'd have to use an ample amount of his numbing cream though (typically reserved for when he gives himself tattoos and piercings), since he doesn't want them to be in any pain.

Similarly, he'd also be willing to carve their name into his skin as well — as many times as Angel would want. But he already has multiple tattoos of their name on his skin, so.... gksgsjj

I'm sure everyone already knows this, but Ren has an entire shrine dedicated to Angel. He keeps all his sentimental and stolen items there.

Ren genuinely has no empathy for anyone other than Angel, so if they were to ask him to murder his own mother (or his sister, his best friend, etc.) and bring back their heart, he'd do it with a smile on his face.

Because he has no empathy, Ren would probably enjoy watching snuff films like it's any other B-tier horror film. To him, it's just more research material on how he can get rid of his competition.

I've mentioned this in the past, but Ren has jacked off to the thought of Angel while in the library lol

I made a post back in 2022 that mentioned how Ren would willingly offer up any of his body parts to a cannibal!Angel, and I think the point still stands!!

He likes to put Angel's stolen laundry on his body pillow and rut into/hump it 😟

I once mentioned that Ren would slap a barcode sticker on his sledgehammer to make it look less... questionable whenever he carries it around in broad daylight — but alongside that, I think he'd also carry around some tools and an unopened can of paint to make it seem like he's just doing renovations. In reality, he'd probably force his victims to drink paint or gargle nails teehee

Builder AU except Ren mistook a body for plywood??? Why is he hammering so many nails into them?? Why is he feeding it into a wood chipper???

Builder AU except Ren gives Angel a different meaning to getting nailed and railed???????? Jackhammering???????? Getting screwed sideways????? KGJDSGNK It's 2AM I'm losing da plot now T_T I'll shut up

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.