#like I know there would be some people who would hate me for this but certain “older” comics he's just...WAYYYYY too much of an asshole and

[unintentionalseductress]

Hold Me Tenderly

Warnings: MDNI, sex, angst Summary: When woken up from a nightmare, you and Caleb are forced to confront some uncomfortable truths. WC: 3075 A/n: This week has been crazy. As I've mentioned in an earlier rant, there's more to Caleb than meets the eye and I'm here for it. I've seen a bump in toxicity since his launch, and I just want to take this space to say, please remember this is all FICTIONAL. Let people like who they like and if you have nothing nice to say, scroll on by.

It’s pitch black. You squint, your heart pounding frantically as you try to get your bearings. Up, down, left, right, direction seemed to have lost all meaning. It was dark. And quiet. Too quiet. The unsettling sound of your blood rushing through your own veins adds to the paranoia building inside you.

“Are you looking for me?” Your body jolts at the voice as you look around desperately for the source.

“Caleb?” You call through the echoing nothingness. He sounded so close but where was he? 

“Right here. Can’t you see me?” He sounded further away this time. You jog through the void, not even certain if there is ground beneath your feet. Were you actually moving? Or were you stuck in place, wasting effort to run through a medium that couldn’t be traversed?  

“Caleb, where are you? I can’t find you!” Your voice calls out, shrill, and panicked into the void.

“Here.” He sounded much farther away now, the faint sound of him disappearing into the dark. You give chase, plunging deeper into the unknown.

“Caleb!”

“Hey.” You’re shaken gently and your eyes fly open, your limbs tangling under the sheets as you thrash to free yourself.

“Whoa, calm down. It’s ok. It’s ok my little mouse.” Strong arms wrap around you and you’re pulled into a tight embrace against a firm, muscled, chest. You swallow, then blink your eyes open. The bedside lamp is turned on, and you feel relief flood your chest as Caleb’s face comes into focus. You sniff, burying your face into the comforting warmth of his skin. 

“Nightmare?” He asks softly, cupping the back of your head. You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “It’s gone now. I’m here.” He shushes you, patting your back soothingly.

You’re here, but you’re not here.

The thought enters your mind, unbidden, and suddenly, it’s too much. Your eyes squeeze closed, trying and failing to stop the cascade of tears that form. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Caleb came and went like day changing into night - too brief and without a trace. You hated it. You hated him acting like this tension between you didn’t exist, like the events at Skyhaven had been put to rest.

But most of all you hated that whenever Caleb visited, he never seemed to understand that you wanted him to stay. You had never said he was unwelcome, but he treated himself like an unsavory visitor, only packing enough clothes for a day, before leaving the next. 

And you hated yourself for being unable to shake off the question he had asked the last time he had visited. 

“Why didn’t you ask me who kept me up all night? Were you afraid I’d say it was you? Or were you scared I’d say it wasn’t?”

Wasn’t the answer to that obvious? Why else would you keep letting this man back into your life, over and over, like a moth drawn to a flame? Simply put, you were now in a precarious state, knowing you could never go back to a world where Caleb didn’t exist. It was infuriating, the way he thought he was being considerate, never overstaying his visits, when it was so plainly obvious you didn’t want him to go. Your heart broke each time he left without asking if there were feelings that went beyond the bond of growing up together. 

So you cry, and he holds you tenderly. You couldn’t remember the first time you had both done this, years ago, sharing a bed to avoid facing all the past trauma you’d endured together. But all you knew was that you never wanted there to be a last. 

“It’s just a dream baby girl,” Caleb murmurs in your ear. 

Your eyes snap open, and through gritted teeth you say, “It’s not just a dream Caleb.”

His hand pauses. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not a dream.” You sit upright, burying your face in your hands, your body racked with sobs, shaking and trembling on the bed. The sheets ruffle and Caleb pulls you against him, trying to console you. He seems to be at a loss about what to say. You take a shuddering breath and it’s like a dam burst inside you.

“You come when you want. And leave when you want. What about me, Caleb? Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want bits and pieces of you anymore?” You look up at him, tears streaking down your face, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes grow wide with shock. You ramble on. 

“I don’t know how we got here. And I’m trying to fix it but Caleb…I can’t fix it if you won’t stay.” 

You finally admit the things you’d tucked away inside, trying to bury them; now they were crawling out of your throat like ghosts desperate for a rebirth. You swallow, and Caleb grabs the glass of water from the nightstand and presses it into your hands. 

“Drink.” 

The word is said so firmly that you dare not refuse and you gulp, the liquid somehow helping dull the harshness of the lump in your throat. He puts it back before gathering you close to him.

“You realize that’s the first time you told me I could stay.”

“Well, I’m sorry! I thought it was obvious!” You hurl the words, which get muffled by the wall of his chest. 

Caleb huffs. “Well, it wasn’t. And who told you that I didn’t want to stay? I was trying to give you space.” He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me around anymore.”

Your heart clenches, and your hands tighten on his T-shirt. “Of course, I want you around Caleb. You’re my…” Your voice trails as you realize the term ‘best friend’ rang hollow. He was so much more than that. 

Caleb gently leans back so that he can look at your face. He cups your cheek, his eyes gazing at your face searchingly.

“What? What am I?” 

The question snaps the coil that had been steadily winding tighter during his stay. Frustrated, you move to your knees, hands springing out to capture his face. Before he can react, you roughly cover his mouth with yours. The kiss is raw, pouring out every moment of rage and loneliness you have felt since being reunited with him. You had never kissed him before, and a momentary flash of worry crosses your mind at the implications but they’re pushed out as you take what you had been desiring for so long. 

Caleb groans lowly at the feeling of your soft lips against his but his mind is fighting propriety. “Wait. Hang on, wait baby girl.” Caleb’s large hands catch yours and he breaks the kiss, trying to put some space in between you both. 

“Are you sure about this?” Caleb’s eyes are painted with confusion and doubt, but there is no denying the growing darkness at the edges of his irises. Despite everything, neither of you had dared cross that line, the one that threatened to upend your complete understanding of each other. 

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

Your consent brings forth a growl from his throat, and finally, finally, he claims you back. You revel in the push of his body against yours, the hard muscles pressing against your softness as he wraps both arms around you and you’re crushed under his weight as both of you crash onto the mattress. Everything was fair game now, no qualms asked. His mouth, hot and demanding, finds yours, and your hands anchor onto his shoulder blades, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you than he already was. Everything about him was familiar, yet different. 

You’d held his body before, cupped his cheeks, and cuddled him during the bad days, but now, you feel the tension in his body as the boundaries between friendship and something more start to blur. The raging ache in your chest that had been clawing at you since you had left Skyhaven now had a name; possessiveness.

Because he was yours. And weren’t you his? Was it fate that had brought you two together at the shelter after the day of the Chronorift Catastrophe? It hardly seemed to matter but now, the both of you were intricately bound together and you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you started. All that mattered was that he was here. 

A gasp leaves your mouth as Caleb rakes his teeth down your lips, nibbling and sucking the soft flesh. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wait until the sting has passed before leaning up to pepper his face with little kisses, causing him to pause as he catches his breath.

“I was afraid you’d say yes.” 

“What?” Caleb’s eyes knit in confusion as he regards through the haze in his brain.

“Your question. I was afraid you’d say yes.” Your breath hitches as he cushions your head with his arm, gazing down at you with affection. 

“Why?” He murmurs as he dips down to lick and nibble your ear, sending currents of heat down your spine.

“Because Caleb. I’m always afraid. I thought I lost everything during the chronorift. I didn’t want to dare ask for more. Because asking for more means being vulnerable to getting hurt.”

Caleb’s eyes are full of emotion. “I didn’t want to ask you for more,” he admits quietly. “Because I know you are already empty from giving me whatever you have now.” 

The room falls into silence and the only thing that can be heard is the hammering of your hearts, pounding in sync with each other. 

“Take me, Caleb.” You murmur and his heart nearly stops in his chest. “I can never be empty if you’re here. But promise me you’ll stop leaving the way you do.” Your voice hitches. “I can’t do it all over again.” 

Caleb presses kisses to your temples, rubbing your noses together like a puppy and there’s conviction in his voice as he speaks. “I won’t. I promise I’ll never be gone long enough for you to start questioning my position in your life.” 

Your hands start to trace his face and he catches one of them, kissing your fingertips and sighing against your palm. The heat between you threatens to consume you whole. When his mouth touches yours, you open and let in his tongue, exploring the taste and wetness. His hands are now bruisingly dug into your waist like he’s steeling himself from going too fast and rough.

Primal instinct pours into his veins and visions of his past fantasies flood his brain; ripping off your clothes while his hands spread apart your legs. How wet you’d feel as he tasted the sweet nectar of your sex before plunging his cock so deep within you that you’d feel for him for days long after it was over. How long had he held back from acting on those impulses?

He grits his teeth as he rolls you over onto him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself having you pinned powerless underneath him. You’re looking at him in a confused daze, then, with a gesture so cute that it almost made him lose restraint, you raise your arms above your head. He leans up, dragging the pajama shirt off your torso, swallowing hard as you reveal yourself to him. Those soft, inviting breasts, the ones he’d imagined for years now, were perfect. He cups them reverently as he presses kisses to your cleavage, squeezing and enjoying the feel of your flesh. 

Your body reacts naturally to him, responding so strongly that you feel like you might combust from the rising need gathering in your sex. Your clit throbs within its folds, swollen and delicate, as it waits to be unsheathed. Caleb’s erection was straining against the fabric of his shorts, brushing against your crotch and as he pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingertips, you started to grind against him. 

A hiss escapes from him as he looks up at you, crazed with desire, the sight of you rubbing against him pouring fuel into the fire. He sits up, crossing his legs and upsetting your balance before drawing you securely onto his lap. His head dips to suckle, the feel of his tongue and teeth on your nipple sending shocks of pleasure through your system. You struggle against him, finding the hem of his T-shirt and undressing him, amazed at the sight of his bare chest. 

You sigh before running your hands over the expanse, his mouth busying itself with your breast again. There was no shame or reluctance as you took from each other. A sheen of sweat covers your bodies as you tease and stroke each other. Every small gasp, whimper, and moan was part of a private symphony, and he was desperate to hear you sing. 

You could feel the drip of moisture inside your sex now and were growing impatient from the wait. Your eyes lock with Caleb’s, those smokey, purple irises watching you intently. When your fingertips hook into his waistband, he doesn’t question you, but with a show of strength, braces his palms on the bed and lifts his hips. You slide forward slightly but manage to yank off the garments below his knees, watching his cock spring free from its confines, weeping precum from the slit.

“Fuck. Don’t look at me like that.” Caleb’s cheeks are flushed and his voice is gravelly, a soft rumble of barely contained need. He bites back a moan as your fingers curl around his shaft, squeezing and pumping him tantalizingly, and his hips rock against you as pleasure floods his brain. His hand catches your wrist, stilling you as he tries to control the rushes of arousal that shoot through him. His cock felt painfully hard and your willingness was driving him to the edge.

Without missing a beat, Caleb pulls off your shorts and panties, panting as your wet sex hovers over the tip of his cock, your knees sinking into the mattress as you try to settle back on his lap. He groans wantonly as your pussy, moist and warm, brushes against his engorged head, mixing your essence with his. It felt divine, and your hips start to seek friction, dragging the length of his cock in between your folds, gasping softly into his ear each time it hits your clit. 

“That’s right baby girl. Use me. I’m all yours.” Caleb whispers encouragement into your ear and it only makes you want to claim him even more. You whimper as you raise as high as your knees will take you, sliding the slick little bud along his slit, trying to fit it into the little hole that was leaking those milky beads from his shaft. 

“Caleb.” Your voice is a whine as your nails dig into his back, dancing so carefully along the ridge so that your clit doesn’t miss any action. 

“Oh, that’s it little mouse.” Caleb coos at you while his hands stroke down your back. “My sweet girl. Take what you need.” His fingers indent into your hips to help guide your movements and you feel a similar series of small spasms flutter their way into your core. Knowing you’re close you use Caleb, solid and grounding, as an anchor and hump him with abandon, your breasts bouncing with each movement. You’re both in a trance, broken from it when you feel the tension in your clit suddenly start to feel wonderfully light and sublime. You moan as your climax hits you, continuing to stimulate the little bud on his tip as the rest of the orgasm follows, sending ripple after ripple of hot pleasure through you. Your mouth hangs open as you pant from the exertion, then are caught off guard as Caleb cups your face and kisses you.

While he was occupied with your mouth you raise your hips and ease your fluttering hole onto his length. A guttural grunt spills from Caleb’s mouth into yours as you continue to lower your pussy onto him, taking him further into your slick welcoming heat. His cock throbs as it slips further inside you and he watches your face as you settle to his size. You felt so full, the way his cock filled your inner space, and when he rolls his hips, you cling onto him for dear life. You’d never thought he could feel so good, feel so comforting as his meat thrusts up into you before easing back down. 

Your hips start to coordinate a rhythm to his movements, sinking onto him as he pushes up, helping him bottom out each time, and he swore he could see stars forming around him. You were so tight, so inviting, and so unbelievably sexy as you writhed in passion along with him. 

“Fuck little mouse.” Caleb’s vision blurs at the edges as he feels himself on the precipice of a climax. “You feel good. So damn perfect.” He chases his orgasm, his thrusts growing more urgent and sloppy as he did so. Your juices coat his cock and start to form a ring around his length, your walls quivering and sucking him further in towards your cervix. 

Caleb’s abdomen is rigid and he feels every part of him tensing up in anticipation for a mind-blowing finish. He moans, the noise sexily floating into the air, then holds you tightly against him as he finishes, spilling himself messily into your quivering channel, the thick jets of seed coating your walls white. He doesn’t move, savoring the closeness and intimacy of having you pressed up against him, sated and warm. After a few moments, he maneuvers both of you to lay down, his softened cock still nestle within you as you immediately move closer to snuggle into his chest.

“No more running away. Whatever happens, we’ll talk it out. And I promise I won’t leave you unless you’re screaming at me to get out.”

You chuckle quietly, then kiss his chin. 

“Never. Unless you refuse to make your braised chicken wings for me.” 

He laughs heartily and both of you feel some of the awkwardness between you ease. It wasn’t going to be easy but you were both determined to fix whatever had been lost. One step at a time, you reminded yourself, before snuggling into Caleb and finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6

[222anderson]

21. I went to the hospital once in 2022 and had to go to the psych ward right after (take a wild guess what i did to get there😭)

22. I’ve never actually gotten in trouble with the police but i have been stopped by Spencer’s employees because they thought i stole pins from them which i DIDNT. (I stole them from hot topic)

23. I’ve met Adassa! She’s the woman who played Dolores Madrigal in Encanto, and I met her at a con :) My mom also was on a zoom call with Nick Jonas but I didn’t nt really have anything to do with that😔

24. Honestly I love showers but if I could, I would take baths everyday like constantly. If I had a big and pretty bath tub I don’t think I would ever get out of it!

25. Flesh colored (no sock☹️)

26. I have 4.3k followers on TikTok so i’m basically famous right now (heheheheh)

27. Yes and no☹️ I want to be friends with famous people and I want to have people know me and make edits of me and like me and be my friend but I also don’t want anyone to look at me ever don’t look at me go AWAY

28. Whatever you call Sufjan Stevens, Ethel Cain, and Adrienne Lenker (i also love pop songs from like the 2000s and 2010s) and I really love everything, but the only country i’ll listen to is Dolly Parton

29. Does a bath count☹️

30. A whole bunch and then one special pillow that is shaped kinda like a person if you know what I’m talking about (like it has two arm rest things sticking out the side) I BRING IT EVERYWHERE i love my special pillow

31. Usually with my head on the “chest” of my special pillow and like my body all sprawled out

32. My mom’s duplex is not super small but it is cozy, and my dad’s house is a good sized single family home. It’s pretty average i think, not too big, not too small.

33. I don’t eat breakfast a whole lot, but i usually have eggs and some other protein with a LOT of hot sauce its so yummy

34. No i have not. I don’t really like guns but I should know at least how to shoot one if I need to (I really hate guns💔)

35. Nope! It looks cool but I don’t think it’s for me.

36. Melancholy (I’m not trying to be edgy I just think it’s a pretty word)

37. BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BTICH BTICH BITCH BITCH

38. Like 2 days I think (maybe 60 hours)

39. I have a bunch of scars from mosquito bites and random scrapes and scratches from my kitties (and others on my arms but shhhhhhhh we don’t need to talk about those shh)

40. If I have, they’ve never told me or anything😔

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[suh-lee]

' fuck you... fuck you. ' - thanos

𐔌♯ pairing — dom thanos x sub amab!reader

𐔌♯ warnings — smut mdni , slight feminization , blowjob (reader receiving) , drug usage (+ peer pressure) , cursing, implied korean speaking (stuff intended to be english will be italicized) , 'boy' used for reader, cockwarming mention

𐔌♯ word count — -1.7k

𐔌♯ authors note — hi.. had a small depressive episode so i halted my writing.. uhm.. anyways we are so back! and small note.. i literally do not know anything about drugs.. most of the substance use was written with a small amount of research.. if it isnt accurate please imagine it is..

you fucking hated it here. you didn't know where you were, what you were doing, or even the true nature of the other 455 players with you.

anybody could be planning anything against you.. at any time.. anywhere... and you just had no way of knowing.

you knew this was a bad attitude to have when you had nobody else to rely on at the moment, but you just couldn't help the feelings of doubt and possible betrayal.

everyday, as the other players went to grab their small portions of food, you just sat on one of the many bunkbeds and stared, trying to observe everyone possible.

"hey pretty boy," you heard someone say from the floor.

it was that bitch with the highlighter purple hair, thanos. you found him anything less than unendearing. thanos had a habit of constantly breaking out in a freestyle rap.. and they were never really good. as well as seeming to pick fights with everyone there.

yup, he was definitely not the person who you would try to become allies, or even friends, with, even if you were desperate here.

you tried your best to ignore him, continuing to stare off into the lines of people.

"hey bitch!" thanos yelled, "i'm talking to you!"

a soft groan escaped your lips as you slowly moved your head down to look at him, standing like an idiot on the floor.

"what?!" you said in a snappy tone, to which he responded with a smirk.

"i liked you better when you were quiet." he mumbled, climbing up the metal latter to the many bunk beds, finally reaching the one you were on a plopping down.

the slightest look of disgust was on your face as you stared him down, getting a glance of every small detail about him. "are you high?" you mumbled, noticing his bloodshot eyes and overly shaky hands.

"why, pretty boy? ya want some?" thanos said, a smirk placed on his face as he started to reach into the sweater of his tracksuit, where you assumed (more hoped) was where he hid the drugs.

"no, im fine." you spoke in a stern tone.

"awh! you're no fun." he frowned, pulling out a detailed cross-shaped necklace. he turned his head to make sure nobody else was around before lifting the top on the necklace, revealing a small collection of drugs of multiple colors. "....you sure?" he asked in a cocky tone. "c'mon man!! live a little!" he said a little louder than you would have liked.

"fuck you." you mumbled, rolling your eyes off to the side. you looked around at the people in the room, letting out a loud sigh. your gaze looked the purple-haired man up and down, "fine. give me one."

"shit?! yo.. i knew you'd come through!" he said, taking a pill out of the cross necklace and quickly putting it in your palm. "it's crazy strong though. like man."

you placed the colored pill into your mouth, confused if you should swallow or let it dissolve, but you chose the latter. the version of you that existed before participating in these games would've never dreamed of taking a drug... but here you were.

thanos stared at you, a look of anxious excitement placed on his face. the both of you made eye-contact with another blankly, waiting for the effects of the drug to hit you.

..and.. it finally did.

"holy shit.." you managed to mumble. the feeling of hunger in your body was lifted with the drug, as well as the feeling of stress. your mind felt float-y, even causing your body to do the same, even as you sat perfectly still.

"it's strong.. right?" he said as his eyes watched you."

"..yeah.. god.."

"it's not very beginner friendly.. but it'll definitely make this place more fuckin' bearable." he mumbled, scooting a little closer to you.

"how'd you know i was a beginner?" you asked, looking at him with disbelief.

"ay, pretty boy. let's be for real now." thanos started off, "your whole body language is fuckin' rookie if i've ever seen one.. you didn't even know what the fuck to do with the pill."

a sigh escaped your lips as he spoke, "how the fuck does anybody put up with you?" to which thanos chuckled.

"i dunno.. you seem to be doin' a damn good job at it though."

"fuck you." you mumbled, staring at him.

you guys talked for a while as the substance reached it's high in your body. after the conversation, you seemed to be able to tolerate thanos more... even throughout his annoying ass tactics. he seemed to have a difficult time before coming here.. as did you. a light was revealed in thanos with said conversation. one that you were shocked about.

you saw... an attractive male. you definitely couldn't deny that he was a physically attractive man, but you've seen more into his actual persona, and you like it. a lot.

"yo." he finally mumbled, "i'm not gonna deny this.. you're fuckin' pretty. like shit."

"you literally called me 'pretty boy'."

"c'mon man! you don't need to expose me like that." he said, a slight joking tone was hidden under his words.

you guys sat in silence for what could only feel like hours. you leaned a little closer to him.

"can i.. kiss you?" was the only thing you could say, it coming out of your mouth as a whisper.

thanos stared at you in shock, a moment of silence went on, almost making you regret asking, before a small nod appeared on thanos' face.

his gaze glanced around the room, making sure all of the eyes were off you guys before the both of you leaned into each other.. your lips quickly connecting. he put his right hand on the back of your head. it grabbing your (slightly) outgrown hair in a way that was somewhat comforting. your lips kissed, the both of you waiting before bringing your tongues into it. your lips simply sat on each others... until they didn't. thanos lightly bit your bottom lip, asking you to open your lips without actually asking you too. you waited a minute before doing so, his tongue slowly slipping into your mouth, and vise versa. the kiss still seemed slow, so you decided to pick up the speed of your tongue. thanos matched the speed of your tongue causing your arms to swing from the sheets on the bed to his back. your arms tightly wrapped around his torso as his other hand slid to your waist, it lightly rubbing up and down.

thanos waited a moment and carefully slid his cold hand under the fabric of your clothes. he continued to rub his hand against your skin, the icy touch of his fingers sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled away from the kiss and stared at him.

"your eyes.. they're pleading.." he said with a small laugh, his hand trailing up under your top. he did so slowly, the grazing of his fingers making your breath's speed to decrease. his hand stopped on the left side of your chest.

thanos leaned into your ear and whispered, "what a small and perky tit..." he said with a smirk on his face before pulling away and starting to fidget with the nipple.

you never thought having your chest referred to in a way commonly used for females would turn you on... but here you were.. your dick was rapidly getting hard, it slightly poking out through the fabric of your sweatpants.

this movement did not go unnoticed by thanos, his gaze slipping from your face to your pants. he let his hand slide out from under your shirt and placed it on the hem of the tracksuit pants. they were carefully tugged down, just enough to reach the end of your boxers. he placed his hand on your boxers now, looking at you for confirmation that you wanted this, and all you could do was quickly nod. you adjusted yourself to be completely laying down on the bunkbed, as he adjusted himself to hover above your pelvic area. he nodded before pulling your boxers down and watching your dick pop out almost immediately. he teasingly flicked it, receiving a whine from you.

"..how responsive." he teased before placing his mouth on the tip of it.

thanos slowly moved his head downward on your dick, stopping right before he reached your testicles. he looked up at you, before lifting his head up and slamming it back down onto your dick. he continued this a few times, having you quietly whimpering.

you watched his head lift up to look you in the eye, your dick making a 'pop!' sound as his mouth went off of it. "hey. you gotta be quiet, man!" he exclaimed in a hush tone. "the fuck you think that pissy old man's gonna do if he sees this!" he said, clearly referring to player 001. the man who had stopped him from beating up a player.

"sorry." you mumbled, your eyes pleading for him to ignore it and continue.

thanos looked at you with doubt before slamming his head back down onto your dick, your dick hitting the back of his throat with ease. his eyes teared up on reflex as he let out a quiet groan.

"thought we we're being quiet?" you said, teasing him through shaky breaths, to which you received no response.

you watched as his head quickly bopped up and down, each thrust of your dick reaching the back of his throat, you quickly decided you had to come and left no notice before your dick started to release the infamous white liquid. your nut squirted all around his mouth, his head bopping up and down a few more times to rid you of that high before lifting his head up.

thanos stared at you as he swallowed it before laying down, right next to you. he helped you pull your boxers and tracksuit pants back up.

you sat in silence, processing what had just happened. a hand being placed on yours interrupting your thoughts.

"so. pretty boy.. whatcha feel about cockwarming?"

[aydracz]

The GO bench in St James Park has been replaced with a different one

Very sorry to report that the sanded down bench they returned at the original spot in St James Park is actually NOT the OG fandom one.

There are some very prominent features the OG bench had. Most importantly, the shape of the back of the bench, the armrest shape, and the height of the bench itself:

OG bench (pic taken last year):

The new bench, unfortunately, has a different back shape (the tops of the left and right wooden planks at the back):

I did some ineffable detective work in St James Park this weekend of 25th January (with the help of @0xlilith and @fuckyeahgoodomens and @fuzzywhispersbear) and examined all the benches in the near vicinity and subsequently all the benches in the park, in case they just moved it to a different spot. They did not.

I now have a special photo folder in my phone featuring some of the possible candidate benches in St James Park, because that's what you do if you are a GO fan on a trip to London.

All the potential candidate benches that fit the shape criteria didn't meet the "recently cleaned" criterion or the "at least a bit visible carving scars in the right places" criterion.

(A very useful graphics made by @fuckyeahgoodomens)

It is, of course, possible that I am wrong and the bench is there somewhere and has been cleaned so well that not even the carving scars are visible. I just recorded all the Clues as I collected them and this is the logical conclusion:

I think it is realistic to consider that the OG bench was damaged beyond salvation and as such, was removed permanently. I feel like maybe some of the carvings were too deep and beyond repair. I might be wrong, they just might be rotating the benches and our bench is just sitting somewhere in storage, waiting for being cleaned and returned. (It is probably not in different park because all benches have a SJP at the back and I think they make sure to not mix them up).

I, personally, am actually fine with fans writing on the bench. It is within my personal limits of what is OK. But some of the fandom love was maybe too vigorous. And as a whole, I think that this shows us that we might try to treat the new bench with a bit more respect. By refraining from carving in it with a knife. By using plain pencils to write our little notes so that they don't destroy the bench, are easily cleaned and are not visible to regular visitors of the park, only for people who know what they are looking for. Use it as a scavenger hunt place (my personal favourite) to leave little trinkets and gifts for other fans (but hide them well so that they don't visually disturb regular visitors).

I am not openly promoting vandalism here. I am just being realistic and I seriously have nothing but love for the people who left their permanent mark on the bench. (And I would HATE for this post to be used for hating on these fans. Pls don't.) I believe we can find a sweet spot of showing our love for the bois and not damaging the bench beyond salvation.

And I think the management of St James Park is showing us that they are just doing their job and they don't hate us (hopefully).

Why? Because the heart padlock of Aziraphale and Crowley is still there. Someone even added another padlock and a little fly! And these things didn't disappear. I think this hopefully demonstrates that fandom activities in moderation are allowed.

The bench is a symbol of fandom love and as such, I don't think it can be lost. It is what we make it. There is a new lovely bench at the spot and it attracts GO fans just like the previous one did. And while I know many people (including me) will grieve the piece of fandom history that might have been lost, I think that this is an opportunity for a fresh start.

We'll be OK. This place still feels loved.

[rosenclaws]

Can you write about flat!reader x any Logan, where she is insecure of basically having no tits (like me) so she wants to keep a shirt on during sex and stuff and Logan notices and stuff lol

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, dirty talk, mirror sex, doggy style, creampie, insecurity, the reader says self deprecating things about themselves, light choking, breast play

a/n: YES YES, I'm flat as fuck and I am super self conscious about them. These mfs look like mosquito bites on god. (I hate them so much bro just let me get some work done PLZ) Anyways Im doing this with Worst Logan bc I love him. Anyways.

Sometimes it was hard dating a man like Logan. It wasn't hard to love him, no not at all. Even with the baggage he claimed to have come with, it wasn't hard to deal with the nightmares or the moments of deep loathing and insecurity. You loved him and because of that being able to help him through it all was easy.

What was hard was dating a man who was over 200 years old and looked like a Greek fucking god.

The first time you ever saw Logan without his shirt was when you were visiting Wade. Logan walked out in nothing but pajama pants. You shamelessly eye-fucked the man before you. He was ripped. Strong arms, a six pack, big thighs, and a handsome face. Even after you started dating and managed to get him on a diet that was more than whiskey and cigars he was still unbelievably hot. You should feel lucky to have a man like that worship you and you love and appreciate him to death. The problem is that you felt like you couldn't compare.

Logan loves you and you know he does but when you're looking in the mirror you can't help but notice you're lacking in one specific area. Your boobs. You were flat and the world seemed to never let you forget it.

Cute tops you could never wear because your chest couldn't keep them up. Jokes about being flat as a board. You couldn't even hold them in your hands. You hated them. Logan never said anything about them but you were always too afraid to bring it up.

So you sat in this limbo of deep insecurity.

"Sweetheart? You still in there?" Logans muffled voice comes from behind the bathroom door.

Shit you didn't mean to be here for so long. A shower had turned into staring at the mirror. You covered them in your hands, pushing them together and huffing when they just looked sad. The events from earlier in the night replaying over in your head.

Ever since Logan showed up in the universe he had garnered some attention. The Wolverine was hard to hide. People would point and whisper whenever they saw him. Gossip about who he was and why he was here. It was all pointless to Logan. Still in the bathroom of the bar you managed to catch a conversation.

Two beautiful women talking about your boyfriend and how badly they wanted him. Talking about flirting with him and taking him home. It just hurt a little. Sure Logan could care less about anyone's advances but yours but they had truly gotten into your head.

Would Logan want someone who had...better assets?

Would he want a woman who's breasts he could hold, squeeze, rest his head on? It was silly but they were the one thing that you honestly just didn't like about yourself so it was hard to think logically about it.

"I'm coming in." Logan's voice calls again. You curse quietly as you scramble to get a shirt on. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this. Logan's eyes shamelessly look you up and down as he enters the bathroom. A small smirk growing on his lips as he leans against the door. You bite your lip as you look down towards the counter.

"Sorry, I just wanted to take an extra long shower." You lie, smiling at Logan.

He hums and pushes off the door. He comes to stand behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. You were dressed in nothing but a shirt and underwear and Logan liked it. A lot.

"Should've joined you. Could have helped get your back." Logan purrs, his growing bulge pressing against your back.

“Oh please we’d still be in the shower if you had joined me.” You tease, slipping out of his grip. Logan furrows his brows as he follows you like a puppy to bed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing sweetheart."

As you lay on the bed Logan crawls in-between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. He purrs as you reach and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his head in all the spots you know he loves.

"Not a bad thing honey, but our water bill isn't a fan." Logan gets up on his knees, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips as his hands snake up your legs.

"Fuck the water bill, If I want to fuck my gorgeous girlfriend I will." You giggle as he dips his head down. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin as he nibbles on your thighs.

"Fuck baby, I can't get enough of you." He kneels between your legs and his hands slip up your body. The moment his hands go under your shirt you flinch. You didn't mean to flinch but you did. It was a small movement but it was there and Logan felt it immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asks as he takes his hands away.

"Nothing." You smile and reach up to pull him closer but he doesn't budge. Curse his super strength. He gives you a look and you sigh.

"It's nothing Logan, it's stupid and small."

"Sweetheart you gotta talk to me," Logan huffs. He's been working on this whole, communication thing and while he's not known for his empathy he can clearly see there's something bothering you.

"I just..." He looks at you again and you fall back into the pillows.

"Its these!" You say pointing to your chest.

"Huh?" "They're small and stupid and I hate them!" You lift your shirt up and huff in frustration. Logan's eyes widen as he stares at your bare chest. A stupid smile forming on his lips.

"I'm not seeing the problem." You put your shirt down and he pouts.

"I'm serious Logan. They're small and flat and...and..." You struggle to find the words as Logan just chuckles.

"So what?"

"It's not funny!" You snap and Logan's face morphs into concern.

"I just, I wish they were bigger is all. I mean sometimes I see other women and...It's hard sometimes." You curl into yourself, your arms covering your chest protectively. It felt silly to bring up right now but the thoughts wouldn't go away.

"Hey, look at me sweetheart." Logan coos. He lays next to you. Gently snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

"Please?" Reluctantly you turn your body to face his.

"There's my pretty girl." He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Look I'm not the best at this but I can tell you one thing. You're fucking perfect." He leans in and kisses your neck gently. Your eyes flutter close as he gently rolls on top of you.

"You are beautiful, gorgeous, hot. I could go on and on sweetheart." His hand slips up your shirt and you let him slowly peel it off you. He grins as his lips move down to your chest. His thumb comes to play with one of your breasts while he latches onto the other.

"Logan..." You moan as he teases you like he loves to do.

"I know you hate them but I fucking love them. I could spend hours playing with them, looking at them, sucking on them if you let me." You bite your lip at his dirty words. The insecurities being pushed out Logan's hands.

"I don't care how big they are, what the look like. Because they're attached to my girl and I love my girl." Logan reaches down and rips your panties off of your body. You gasp in surprise as he takes your legs and spreads them.

"Feel how fucking hard you make me." He groans as he grinds his cock against your body.

"Get on your knees baby." You don't hesitate to listen. You get on your knees and face the headboard but Logan has other plans.

"No, I want you to watch your pretty tits as I fuck you." He growls in your ear as he moves you to face the mirror on the wall.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his gruff voice. Fuck he's hot. You're practically dripping onto the sheets already and Logan plans on taking full advantage of that. Slowly he slides his cock into your cunt, taking his sweet time as he stretches you out.

"So good, taking me raw." He says with a smirk. He wraps his hand around your neck to help support you as your legs shake at the feeling.

"I know baby, almost there just a little bit more." He praises.

You nod furiously, wanting to take all of him no matter what. When he fully bottoms out you let out a small cry. He shushes you softly, pressing kisses to your cheek as you get used to the stretch.

"Feel alright sweetheart?" Logan asks and you nod. Slowly he moves his hips, soaking up every whine that falls from your lips.

"Fuck, you're just made for me aren't you pretty girl." You can't take your eyes off of the mirror.

It's pure and utter filth. You're disheveled, tears pooling in your eyes, Logan's hand is still wrapped around your neck. You look fucking hot. You can see his muscles flexing with each devastating thrust. The look of pure desire on his face as he fucks you.

"Logan please I'm gonna come." Your hips start to move to meet his thrusts.

Logan growls as he grabs onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress. All you can do is watch yourself take it as he fucks the life out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Logan breaks you apart. Your body feels fuzzy as your orgasm washes over you. Logan lets out a loud groan as his hips slam into you and stay there as he comes.

"Fuck...Look at you." Logan sits back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up. You hum as your head falls onto his chest. A tired smile on your face.

"So fucking perfect." Logan hums.

"Right sweetheart?" You mumble something unintelligible and Logan taps your face.

"I want to hear it." You shiver at the intensity of his voice.

"I'm perfect." Logan tilts your head up.

"All of you?" He asks.

"All of me." You repeat after him.

"Good," He kisses your temple.

You sigh as Logan starts to massage your shoulders. The insecurities have been washed away, only bliss left in its wake. Logan couldn't comprehend your dislike for your body, he saw you and only saw the best.

But if you needed a reminder every now and then, he would be happy to give it to you.

[asaltysquid]

I've been reflecting a lot on this piece as of late since my body has changed dramatically over the two years.

I am now oddly enough. Skinny.

My entire life I fought with my own skin both due to the latent fatphobia embedded into our society but also just due to being trans, fatness emphasized everything I wanted to rip off of myself. Being skinny became equated to not only desirability but passability.

But no matter how much I tried I just couldn't lose that weight and it wasn't until about three years ago when I really started to deconstruct transmedicalism that I also began to deconstruct my internalized fatphobia.

Without going into too much detail, due to OCD i detransitioned for a bit in which I spent some time in those spaces and found, to my surprise, most of the angry vitriolic ex trans people were trans meds who had been "so sure" because they hated being a woman so much, not the so called "trenders".

So I realized that if I was going to transition it was because I was happier as a man not because I was miserable as a woman...and this began to slide into other aspects of my life including weight. For more than a decade I abused my body and health to try and achieve the skinniness I thought I wanted but it only made me more miserable. When I started to allow my body to just be and trust it with itself...I found joy and desirability. ((Also drawing a wider range of bodies helped with this as did finding men I enjoy and find handsome who I could see myself in))

Now, I work pretty much full time. T has hit me like a truck in the weight distribution department. And I look how 17 year old me would have always wanted to look.

And you know what? I miss being chubby. I miss the space my body took up and the heft it gave me. I miss the way my body hair spread over it. I miss the weight it gave my neck and jaw. I miss being larger than my partners and holding them with my everything.

Just..for the first time in my life..I want to gain weight. And that makes me really happy. But for now I'm just going to let my body do what it does and trust I will take the form I need to.

I don't really know exactly what I'm trying to say with this except for - trans mascs I love you deeply and the amount of you who have felt seen by this piece fills me with immense joy. Please don't rob yourself of joy to try and make yourself what you think the world needs you to be. Trust that whatever shape or size you are you have worth and you are beautiful.

The world is better with you in it.

Self Portrait I’m calling “Twink Death” and is about me learning to accept gaining weight and my body shape as the Italian stallion I am😔

Basically trans male fatness is something that has been on my mind as it feels society puts such a pressure on Ftm people to be either effeminate and twinkish or perfectly passing and fit to be desirable, and where self love and attraction comes in for trans mascs who are neither of those things

There's more I could wax poetic about but alas I'm sleepy.

[ohmy-gojo]

jjk as cats with you as their caretaker au ෆ

you were just a simple employee at a cat adoption center. for most people it would be a dream, getting paid to take care of kitties? hell yeah. it was yours for a long time, but now..

"satoru, suguru. how many times have i told you both to not go outside?"

the white and black cats stared at you sheepishly, caught red handed trying to leave the shop. you had closed the shop, which meant no going out now. they both were the troublesome duo, always causing chaos. satoru tried to appease you by rubbing his head in your leg which made you crouch down and pat his head. this action however irked suguru, causing him to meow angrily at the white cat and jump to your arms

"oh hush, stop being so possessive suguru. satoru deserves love too, everyone deserves love here," you paused then took them both in your lap "well everyone except sukuna, thats why hes in the cage."

at your words the unusually colored red cat hissed angrily, giving you a stink eye. can cats even make such expressions? you honestly dont know. maybe the lack of sleep is getting to you. satoru and suguru simultaneously looked at him haughtily, flexing to not be stuck in the cage, rather in your arms

"everyone should be like kento here, hes such a good cat. isnt that right ken?"

you left the black and white cats to check kento— whom you affectionately call ken, sitting in his cat couch unbothered. you in fact have nicknames for every cats here but only call them that when theyre not being naughty. which means you call kento 'ken' all the time, much to the annoyance (and jealousy) of other cats

satoru and suguru's faces fell at the sight of you leaving them, giving a whining mewl. sukuna smirked at their frowny faces. 'heh.. karma' he thought in cat language

you took kento in your arms and gave him rubs. "youre such a good boy ken, arent you? yes you are, yes you are!— the goodest boy,"

kento preened at your words and huddled closer to your arms. hes always on his best behavior to get this treatment. he looked down on satoru and suguru, giving them a look of superiority

you were now walking around with kento in your arms, you already closed the shop so you just gotta leave for home. suddenly you remembered about the other cat, choso. whom you haven't seen in quite some moments

"shit!" you hastily put kento down much to his dismay "have any of you seen choso??""

sometimes you thought you were going crazy. here you were asking them questions as if they could answer. maybe you should quit and start therapy

but thats a problem for later! now you had a cat to find. in a hurry you accidentally stepped on something.. soft. which was chosos tail, he hissed in pain from his position under the chair where he was sleeping

at this satoru, suguru, sukuna laughed. even kento let out a quiet snort. in cat language of course. they already knew where choso was, opting to stay quiet instead.

"im so so sorry cho!!" you held the brown cat face to face with you, "forgive me?"

the brown cat pouted at you before finally accepting your apology with a quiet meow. you smiled happily and peppered his face with kisses. choso was now a happy cat. the others? well not so

sukuna, sick of you giving all these stray cats (deregatory) affection meowed loudly to get your attention. he then did something he absolutely hated but since he was desperate... he gave you kitty eyes (cat version of puppy eyes) you stared at him for some time before sighing heavily

"yeah yeah, im gonna get you out now. maybe don't scare away customers anymore?" you rolled you eyes but took out the keys to unlock his cage, he knew this method would work. "but who am i telling this, you still gonna do that no?"

sukuna just stared at you innocently, tilting his head. you scoffed but took him in your arms at the same time. you looked down at the four other felines who were at your feet, eager to be picked up. they were truly spoiled. weird thing is, they only ever acted this clingy and affectionate towards you, not other people or even their owner, mr. gege (they hated him for some reason, especially satoru). you stared at their hopeful blinking eyes and sighed again

"okay okay, you all can come to stay at my home tonight."

they all cheered. you once again thought you were mad to think cats can cheer. but oh well.

[swappermanent]

Sugar Baby

When I started going out with Paul, it felt like everything had finally settled into place. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was in a relationship that made me feel alive. We were super attracted to each other—magnetically, almost—which, after years of boyfriends who left me feeling unsure and self-conscious, was a relief. I knew I was attractive, sure, but there’s a difference between knowing it and feeling it. With Paul, I felt it.

The chemistry was undeniable. We were having sex all the time, barely able to keep our hands off each other. It had been seven months, and honestly, I thought the honeymoon phase might never end. We’d built this bubble around us, this glowing little world where nothing else mattered… until that night.

We’d just come back from dinner at a trendy little spot downtown. I thought the evening had been perfect. The food was great, the wine was flowing, and Paul had looked incredible in his tailored blazer and skinny jeans. But as soon as we got back to my apartment, I could tell something was wrong.

Paul dropped his wallet on the counter with more force than necessary and crossed his arms. “Did you hear what that server said tonight?” he asked, his voice sharp.

I blinked, trying to think back. “What are you talking about?”

“He called me a sugar baby, Oliver,” Paul snapped, his eyes flashing. “Or at least he implied it. Don’t tell me you didn’t catch that.”

I frowned, replaying the night in my head. “I think he said something about us being a…‘cute couple,’ maybe? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Paul threw his hands up. “Of course you didn’t notice. Why would you? You’re not the one who gets judged every time we walk into a room together.”

“Paul, what are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely confused. “What do you care what some random waiter thinks? He’s nobody.”

“It’s not just him,” Paul said, his voice rising. “It’s everyone. Every time we’re out, people look at us and assume I’m with you for your money or because you’re older and can…‘take care’ of me or whatever.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “No one’s judging you. Why would they?”

Paul’s laugh was bitter. “You really don’t get it, do you? Even though you’re super, super hot, you’re still older, Oliver. People notice. They talk. And I’m tired of it.”

I opened my mouth to respond but realized I didn’t know what to say. I’d always thought of us as equals, partners in every sense. But now Paul was voicing something I hadn’t even considered. I didn’t care what anyone thought of us, but clearly, he did.

The argument spiraled from there, each of us throwing words we didn’t mean into the space between us. By the time we finally fell silent, the tension was suffocating. I hated it. I hated that we were fighting, that I couldn’t make him see how little anyone else’s opinion mattered.

That was when Paul said something I never expected. “I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, folding my arms.

“It means you have no idea what it’s like to be young and judged for being with someone older,” he said. “You’ve never had to deal with that.”

I wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped me. He was hurt, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Instead, I sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Paul. I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his coat and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

---

The argument with Paul left me feeling helpless. For days, his words echoed in my mind: “I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me.” I hated the wedge it had driven between us, and I wanted to show him—prove to him—how much I cared.

That’s how I ended up in a small, dimly lit shop tucked into a back alley downtown. A witch, of all things, had been recommended by a friend who swore she could “fix anything.” At first, I thought it was ridiculous, but desperation does strange things to a person.

The witch, a woman with piercing green eyes and a voice that felt like velvet and steel all at once, listened to my story. When I told her I wanted to switch bodies with Paul, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions. “It’s a bold move,” she said, studying me. “Are you sure you want this? The spell isn’t permanent, but it’ll be… revealing.”

I nodded. “I need him to see how much I care. I need to understand.”

That night, I surprised Paul with dinner at home—his favorite meal, candles, wine. He was suspicious at first, probably expecting another long conversation about our fight, but eventually, he relaxed.

After we ate, I told him. “I did something for us,” I said, my hands trembling slightly as I held his. “It’s… different, but I think it’ll help.”

Paul looked at me warily. “What did you do, Oliver?”

“Just trust me,” I said, pulling the small vial of shimmering liquid from my pocket. “Drink this with me.”

“What the hell is that?” he asked, leaning back.

“It’s magic. Literally,” I said, smiling nervously. “It’s going to switch our bodies—for a little while. So I can understand what it’s like to be you. So we can understand each other better.”

Paul stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” I said firmly. “I know it’s crazy, but… I love you, Paul. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Please.”

He hesitated, but eventually, he sighed and reached for the vial. “This is insane,” he muttered. “But fine. Let’s do it.”

The sensation was indescribable. A rush of heat, a pull deep in my chest, and then—suddenly—I was staring at myself. At Oliver. My body. Paul’s jaw dropped, and I realized my mouth—his mouth—was hanging open too.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my voice high and light. Paul’s voice.

“Holy shit,” Paul said, his tone low and steady—my tone. He looked down at his hands, flexing them. “This is… weird.”

We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, until a grin spread across my—Paul’s—face. “I’m… cute,” I said, looking in the mirror to admire my new body. “You’re adorable, Paul. I mean, I knew that, but… wow.”

Paul rolled his—my—eyes. “Great. Glad you’re having fun already.”

But I could see the curiosity in his expression as he studied his new reflection in the window. “This is so strange,” he muttered, running his—my—hands through his hair.

---

The first few days were exhilarating. I had always thought Paul’s body was beautiful, but living in it was something else entirely. I felt light and full of energy. I was used to being strong, but in Paul’s body, I felt… different. More vulnerable, maybe, but in a way that made me more aware of the world around me.

And then there was the bedroom. That was… an experience. For the first time, I got to see myself—my body—through Paul’s eyes, and it was hotter than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t stop staring at him. At me. At the way my body moved and how it felt under Paul’s touch.

“Wow,” I whispered one night, lying on my back and looking up at him—at me. “I didn’t realize how hot I am.”

Paul smirked, his—my—hands running over my chest. “Told you.”

The roles had reversed completely. He was stronger now, more dominant, and I was smaller, lighter. It felt amazing to let go and be tossed around a little, to feel his strength in a way I’d never experienced before. And the way he looked at me—his eyes hungry and full of admiration—it turned me on even more.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I teased one night, watching him as he explored his new body.

Paul grinned, his face lighting up. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his tone playful. “You’re… pretty great, you know.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

---

At first, being Paul felt liberating. I loved the way people looked at me—at him—with a mix of admiration and envy. I enjoyed the carefree lightness of being in his body, his energy, his youth. But the novelty wore off faster than I expected. The longer I spent as Paul, the more I realized his life wasn’t as effortless as I’d thought.

The first real cracks appeared with his friends.

I’d always thought they liked me. They were always so warm when I was me—when I was Oliver. But as Paul, I got to see the unfiltered version of how they really felt about our relationship. The jokes started small.

“You’re still with Oliver?” one of them asked over beers. “Man, the dude’s practically a fossil.”

The group laughed, and I forced a grin. “He’s not that old,” I said, trying to brush it off.

Another friend, Darren, smirked. “I don’t know, Paul. Next thing you know, you’ll be helping him pick out retirement homes.”

More laughter. I clenched my teeth, trying to laugh along, but it stung. The digs didn’t stop there. Every hangout seemed to come with new jabs. “How’s the old man holding up?” “Bet he falls asleep before you even make it to the bedroom.” “Does he have to stretch before you guys have sex?”

I tried to defend myself—Oliver—but it only made things worse. “He’s incredible,” I snapped once, tired of the ridicule. “He’s smart and successful and—”

“And old,” Darren interrupted, grinning. “C’mon, Paul, we’re just messing with you. Don’t be so sensitive.”

It was grating. Even though they claimed to be joking, the constant comments wore me down. I started to see how much pressure Paul must have felt every time we were out together. I understood now why he’d been so sensitive about the waiter’s comment. This wasn’t just an isolated thing; it was everywhere.

Things came to a head on the beach trip.

Paul’s friends had organized a day at the beach, and I’d been excited. The sun, the waves, the chance to relax—it sounded perfect. But I realized they had ulterior motives.

“Hey, Paul,” one of them said with a sly grin as we set up on the sand. “We invited someone new to join us today. You’ll love him.”

That “someone” turned out to be Vince. Tall, tan, and absolutely ripped, Vince looked like he’d walked straight off the cover of a fitness magazine. His laugh was deep and easy, his smile dazzling. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his swim trunks, his abs catching the sunlight. He was polite, charming, and… clearly interested in me.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. But as the day went on, it became obvious this wasn’t a coincidence. Paul’s friends had brought Vince along to tempt me—Paul. It was a cruel test, one I hadn’t been prepared for.

The group seemed to push us together all day. “Vince, why don’t you help Paul with the cooler?” “Hey, Paul, Vince is really into hiking. You should talk to him about that trail you like.” “You two should totally go for a swim together.”

And Vince played along. He was magnetic, and it was hard not to be drawn to him. His confidence was intoxicating, and the way he looked at me—as if I were the only person on the beach—made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected.

By the end of the day, we found ourselves at a seaside bar. The group was dancing, drinks in hand, the setting sun casting a golden glow over everything. Vince and I ended up on the dance floor together, and he moved closer, his hand brushing against mine.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice low. His eyes locked on mine, and I felt a rush of heat.

“I’m not—” I started, but he interrupted me.

“Yes, you are,” he said, stepping closer. His hands rested lightly on my hips, and I didn’t pull away. “You’re gorgeous, Paul. You deserve to be adored.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. I froze, torn between the pull of his touch and the voice in my head screaming that this was wrong.

I hesitated, and in that moment, his hand slid lower. He gently cupped my bulge, his fingers pressing just enough to send a shiver through me. My breath caught, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him back. It was slow at first, tentative, but then his other hand slid up my back, pulling me closer, and I melted into him.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the group, not Oliver, not the consequences. Just Vince and the way he made me feel—desired, wanted, free.

It started as a moment of weakness. The kiss with Vince was supposed to be just that—a fleeting mistake, something I could forget. But I didn’t forget. I couldn’t.

The first time we slept together, it was like an explosion. Vince was passionate, attentive, and completely unlike anything I’d experienced before. He made me feel alive in a way that both thrilled and terrified me. I told myself it would just be a one-time thing, but one night turned into two, and then three, and soon I was finding excuses to see him.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection—although that was incredible. With Vince, I felt like I could shed all the insecurities I’d been carrying as Paul. He didn’t see me as someone trying to live up to anyone else’s standards. He just saw me.

But every time I was with Vince, the guilt weighed heavier. I was lying to Paul—not just about Vince, but about everything. The whole reason I’d switched bodies was to understand him, to bridge the gap between us. Instead, I’d let the gap widen, filling it with secrets and betrayal.

After weeks of this, I couldn’t keep it up anymore. I knew I had to end things with Paul.

We sat across from each other in his apartment—my apartment, technically—and I struggled to find the words. Paul looked so hopeful, his expression soft despite the tension that had grown between us since the switch.

“I’ve been thinking,” I started, my voice trembling slightly. “About us.”

Paul frowned, leaning forward. “What about us?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “You were right,” I said quietly. “The age gap… it’s too much. I thought it didn’t matter, but I see it now. You deserve someone who’s in the same place as you. Someone your own age.”

Paul’s face fell, and my chest tightened. I could see the hurt in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. “So, you’ve come around, huh?” he said, his voice heavy. “I guess I should’ve seen this coming.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You should be with someone who gets you. Someone who can make you happy in ways I can’t.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lip. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” His voice wavered, and I could tell he was holding back tears. “I guess I’ve been thinking the same thing… but I didn’t want to admit it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, guilt gnawing at me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Paul took a shaky breath, brushing his hands over his thighs. “Well, I guess this means we need to swap back, huh?”

The words hung in the air between us. I could feel the weight of them, the finality. But instead of agreeing, I hesitated. My heart pounded as I looked at him—at me.

“Actually…” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I’m afraid we’re not going to be doing that.”

Paul blinked, confusion washing over his face. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean… I think it’s better this way,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady. “You can start fresh. Be with someone who fits into your life. And I can… I can do the same.”

Realization dawned on him, his eyes widening. “You’re serious,” he said, his voice rising. “You’re not giving my body back?”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Paul. I think this is for the best.”

[hotteokyu]

wooyoung's sister

Synopsis ~ Your brother's career would be over if not for his pretty substitute. You can sing, dance, and make a perfect impression of Wooyoung, so you accept his plea. You have your own reasons, of course. It's about time you meet the man thirsting for your innocent brother and put him in his place. You hate people like him. Choi San.

So you become Wooyoung for a while.

Pairing ~ san x reader (wooyoung's twin sister)

Word count ~ 14.8k

Genre / warnings ~ romance, enemies to lovers, smut, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI, gender-swap, reader has anger issues (plot point), mention of cult, binder, reader is protective of brother, hates skinship, hates affection, hates everything, san is made fun of a lot, pls dont take it to heart i love him, many thoughts of violence, cursing, trust issues, passing out, some angst, clingy san, lego live ft. Hwa, Hwa is done with their cat fights, slumber party, strawberry cake drama, description of period cramps, drunk confession, angry tension, hongjoong forces them to make up, angry sex, frustrated sex, dom!reader, sub-ish San, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, biting, marking, edging, rough sex

a/n ~ I had a lot of fun writing this :p plz tell me what you think!

     It’s not like you didn’t expect it to happen. You knew there’d be a day your brother would come knocking on your door, begging for your help. And you would do anything for your baby brother. 

     But this is crazy. 

     There’s an entire team of staff in your bedroom. One is cutting your precious, nurtured hair. One is wrapping a binder around your chest. One is measuring your feet. Another is wiping the pretty glitter from your eyes. Two ladies are packing your bags. And the final one is giving you small sips of water to calm your nerves. 

     Three bodyguards are shivering outside in the cold rain, refusing to come in to keep dry. A personal driver is waiting in the car out in the parking lot.

     In the living room, your brother, his manager, and the CEO of KQ Entertainment are sitting comfortably on your couch. 

     There must be a weight limit for the apartment.

     And there must be a capacity for the absolute rage that can fill your body. Your hair is gone, your features masculinized. You have no tits. They’re gone.

     But you take a deep breath. There’s an audience. A big one. You can act like a crazy bitch once you’re alone. Act sane. Calm… down…

     Wooyoung’s jaw drops when he sees you, and there’s a single twitch in your left eye. 

     Calm.

     With a huff, you sit on the floor facing the couch everyone else is occupying. Wooyoung is looking away, puckering his lips guiltily. 

     “I heard you can dance,” the man beside your brother says.

     “Yeah, I can dance. I was a trainee at Big Hit for, like, four years,” you scoff, receiving a snicker from your brother.

     “I heard you know almost every ATEEZ choreography,” he says, leaning back with a satisfactory smile as you nod. 

     “He comes home after every comeback and teaches me his parts.” You point at Wooyoung with a deep frown. “He makes us perform it for our grandma for cookies.”

     “I heard you can sing, too,” he says eagerly grinning as you nod again. “You don’t sound much like your brother, though. I heard you can do a good impression of him, though.”

     Yup. You can sing too. Sing like Wooyoung, dance like Wooyoung, laugh like Wooyoung. For years you’d pretended to be him in different situations. Who knew it would be so helpful in the long run?

     But that’s how your night starts. A long boring conversation. Basically… Wooyoung was in Paris for fashion week and befriended a kind lady. He gave her an autograph, as one of her friends was a huge fan. Turns out she was a sex worker and actually signed him up for her cult. It’s a group for worshiping some sex god. KQ needs to get your brother out of trouble in a Paris court. And, obviously, his career is basically over, if not for you, his beautiful stand-in. As long as no one finds out about it, Wooyoung should be fine. It’s an opportunity no one else could have. It’s perfect.

     You aren’t even mad. 

     Which is a first.

     You’re just so confused as to how your brother can be so stupid.

     A sex cult? That’s crazy?? 

     But you’re already dressed and ready to go. You’d already agreed. So, sure, whatever. 

     Of course, you have your own reasons. 

     You were a trainee at BigHit with Wooyoung and Yeosang, but the only reason you trained there was to keep an eye on your brother. He has this thing about him. People find him cute, small, intimidating, sure, but they like a challenge. Everyone falls in love with him. Everyone wants to touch him and love him forever. Absolutely not. 

     When he and Yeosang moved to KQ, you tried to follow them, but the company wasn’t looking for girls. You got angry and lashed out in the practice room. Got kicked out. Never danced again. 

     Anyway, you like this idea of being Wooyoung for a few weeks. Because now you can see just how his members act. And you can set them straight.

     “Ah, there’s one thing I forgot to mention,” Wooyoung mumbles, eyeing the CEO warily. “She has, like, crazy anger issues.”

     Your brother keeps his room plain, black and gray, with zero posters, and zero personality. That’s weird for a guy with a sparkling, outgoing persona. You expected him to have a little bit of something showing in here. Maybe he just doesn’t have the time to decorate. Maybe he’s busy playing games when he does have the time.

     You sit down on his bed and pucker your lips as you test its cushion. It’s stiff, your booty sinking just slightly into the memory foam. This will be nice to snuggle up on once you clean all of the sheets. 

     You take out your phone and go through the notes Wooyoung sent you. Routines, outfits, locations of items and places, dishes, info about the members, dances to le- Your eyes backtrack and a sinister grin grows on your pretty little face.

     There’s a lot of useless information, like birthdays and representative animals. But he also wrote exactly what you needed to know to get started on your affection purge.

     Your temporary roommates, Choi Jongho and Kim Hongjoong, are both reserved to their areas apparently. You like that. They know their places. They won’t be much of a problem. Yeosang, you know. He won’t be a problem. Song Mingi, you read, is big and awkward. He doesn’t initiate much affection, but he can be a bit freaky at times. Park Seonghwa is silly and affectionate but in a motherly way. How cute. Jeong Yunho is just a big puppy. He’ll come play with you on his own or whenever you want. He’ll like what you like, but he doesn’t pester at all. 

     Now… you don’t know this Choi San, but you know you hate him and his kind. Affectionate, kisses, skinship, clingy, likes Wooyoung very much. You were expecting to find someone like him here, but seeing it now in front of you, you’re fuming. 

     How unprofessional. How ignorant. 

     You’ll fix it, though. You gotta brush off your dusty skills, but you can fix it. 

    For two days, you have private singing, dance, and performance lessons. You don’t meet any of the members except for Jongho eating breakfast while playing a game on his phone. He hardly says hi as you walk out the door.

     For those days, you’re content. You’re a natural, and you’ve already been trained and taught everything throughout your life. Each night, you run everything anyway. Wooyoung keeps his room cold as hell, so dancing doesn’t even make you hot. 

     The first day at dance practice with the rest of the members, however… You don’t think you’ve gone from completely fine to fucking steaming with anger in such a short amount of time before. 

     A man dares to put his grimy hands on you?? AND he thinks you’re Wooyoung?! 

      You memorized Choi San’s face because you were gonna steer clear, but this bitch pulls you into a hug as soon as you walk through the door. You step away immediately, staring in disbelief at the man. 

     So this is Choi San. He’s taller than you but not by too much. He’s big, wide, and strong. He’s got dimples as he cracks a cheeky grin, raising his groomed brow. His black hair is brushed nicely, clean, and soft on his head. He looks fluffy and innocent, much like a kitten. Cats are brutal and disloyal. How could Wooyoung let this man with obvious ulterior motives get anywhere near him? 

     He grabs your arm, and you let out a noise of confusion as he pulls you to his chest. “I missed you, Youngie~” he mumbles, squishing his cheek against your head as he holds you tight to him. 

     You squirm ‘cause, fuck, it’s awful, but it doesn’t seem like he even notices your struggle. He just holds you there effortlessly until he’s content. Then, with a gentle kiss to the side of your head, he walks away as if he hadn’t just fucking assaulted you. 

     You shook your head, wiping away the kiss he’d left against your hair. Ew. Ewewewew. A hug? A KISS?!?!?! Fuck, you’re going to throw up. Your cheeks are so hot, you literally are going to end it all right here. This is it. You’ve had enough, and it’s been, like, twenty seconds.

     You take a deep, mind-cleansing breath. “Ya-!”

     “Wooyoung~!” There’s Yeosang blocking your raging view of Choi San in an instant, and you shut your mouth. 

     “Yeosang!” you exclaim, reaching out and grabbing his hands excitedly. You bring them up to your chest and grin, gazing at his beautiful features. He’s grown so much. He’s still so handsome. 

     Yeosang is like a little brother to you despite being older. He’s a sweet angel who could do no wrong. You trust this boy with your life, and if anything happens to him, you’ll literally kill the man who hurt him. Is it wrong that you imagine it to be Choi San in your recent scenarios? 

     “Yeosang~ Yeosang~” you sing, wiggling your hands back and forth as he just stares at you with a happy smile. “Did you eat today? Did you eat yesterday?” You reach up and poke his cheek, your eyes shining happily as your finger sinks nicely into his soft skin. He shies away, scrunching his cheek to his shoulder, blushing lightly. What a cutie. 

     “What about you,” he mumbles, eying your interlocked fingers. “Your fingers are so thin.” He squeezes your hand gently, and you grin.

     “Of course,” you say, though you in fact did not eat this morning or last night. You’ll probably be hungry by lunchtime, so you’ll eat then. 

     “That’s enough, Yeosangie…” Yeosang is pulled away by the waist, two thick arms wrapping around him and taking him from you. You drop your hands to your sides, feeling agitation build as you already know who it is. You glance up to see a pouting Choi San resting his chin on Yeosang’s shoulder, holding him hostage a few feet away. 

     “Hey, Choi San,” you say through gritted teeth. “We were talking.”

     He shakes his head. “No. You were flirting with each other. I know it.” Why does this man talk in pout? Open your fucking lips and speak. “Yeosang is mine. You can’t have him.”

     You feel a thick vein on your neck bulge as you restrain your lips from opening in a round of profanities. So he wants Wooyoung and Yeosang? He wants them both?

     “San-ah,” Yeosang giggles shyly, trying to pry open San’s arms without any success. “We have to go practice.”

     San sighs, slowly letting a fleeing Yeosang slip from his grip. As everyone gathers by the mirror, San offers you a soft, cat-like smile, but you turn away. He will get zero engagement from you. For your own sake, honestly. He makes you want to rip your shirt open and reveal your secret and shove this fucking binder in his mouth until he talks like a normal fucking human. 

     You take a deep breath. That was uncalled for. Violence is not okay… Violence is not the answer…

     “Young-ah~” You’ve gotten used to his voice by the end of practice. He always has something to say, whether it’s a useless compliment or hyping up the room like you’re all some crazy fangirls and not the performers. He’s always gotta do something so fucking extra. 

     He leans his arm around your shoulder, and you shrug it off, walking just a bit faster to Wooyoung’s car. 

     “Youngie, I went to the plushie shop down the street from that one ramen place with the nice old lady, and they had one of those…” You had to master the art of giving so few fucks to the point of being deaf as you grew up alongside Wooyoung. His voice was fading into the abyss within seconds.

     By the time you reach your car, you try to go inside quickly, but he tugs on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and holds you just a foot away from your exit. “What’s wrong, Wooyoung?” he asks softly. You turn around, liking how he’s finally noticing your attitude. Maybe he’ll be a quick learner. “Are you hungry?” As he’s met with your bratty glare, he pokes your stomach but pulls away before you can push him. “Do you want me to buy you mint choco ice cream?” He smirks as if the offer would be enticing in the slightest. Fuck, does Wooyoung like that toothpaste shit? 

    ��Before he pries any further, you get in the car and lock the door. He steps away pretty easily with a defeated sigh. You drive off with a small huff as you feel your cheeks simmer down from their red, heated boil. Choi San. Choi San. Fuck, you’re going insane.

     “You can’t be mean to him,” Wooyoung says plainly. “He’s a soft, delicate romantic. You’ll break his heart.”

     “I could not care less,” you say, collapsing on the depression-colored bed, with a long, dramatic sigh. 

     “Trust meeee,” he whines. “You’re gonna love him. He’s my best friend.” 

     “Yeosang is your best friend,” you correct. “There’s no way you’re friends with that.” 

     “That?” he scoffs. “He’s my second best friend, and so what? He’s sexy and kind!” 

     “He’s lewd, Wooyoung. He’s out to exploit you, I’m telling you!” You’re taking slow breaths before you lose your shit on your pathetic brother. He already has too much going on. You should save his ears for now.

     Wooyoung’s quiet on the other end for a long moment. “Good luck at the performance tomorrow,” he says with a huff. “I heard you’re better at dancing than me.”

     “Who said that?” you chuckle. 

     “Sannie.”

     You know the poor maknae is trying to sleep next door, but as soon as you jam your finger into your phone to end the call, you throw it across the room and slam your head into your pillow, and you let out a fuming, long, guttural, muffled scream. 

     You’ve never performed for an actual audience before. Sure you did your evaluations back in your trainee days, but this is so different. You’ve never dolled up so much in your life. You’ll have to dance and sing like a professional for, like, almost an hour under the watch of thousands of crazy fans. 

     You’re standing completely still on the second step of the stairs leading to the stage. Your heart is beating like crazy, and you don’t know how to calm it down. You’re Wooyoung. You’re cool and awesome and everyone loves you. It doesn’t help much. 

      Fuck, when are you going out? You’ve been standing here forever. You don’t want to go out. I mean, you do, obviously. You’re kind of curious why your brother is so addicted to this life. You want to feel the thrill he always talks about. 

     Two thick hands are gently placed on your hips, but you push them away immediately, swerving around to come face-to-face with Choi. San. 

     “Don’t be nervous, Young-ah,” he says with a wide smile. “You’re so sexy.”

     Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t say that,” you scoff, eyeing his arrogant dimples as they crease further.

     “You like it, though,” he says slyly, his eyes squinting as his lips pucker into a small, scrunched smile. “It’s your favorite compliment.”

     “I don’t like compliments,” you deny, popping your brows as he gives a satisfying, confused little expression.

     “You’re blushing, though,” he says, reaching slowly to poke your pink cheek. You smack his hand away.

     “Don’t touch me,” you say strictly, your eyes boring into his as he holds his hand to his chest, clearly offended. 

     “Why?” he says, turning away as he huffs. “Are you too hot? Will I get burnt?”

     “Yes!” you nearly shout, sticking your face closer to his as you scowl. “So don’t touch me. Don’t even think about it!”

     He blows you a sweet kiss as you turn around with deeply furrowed brows. 

     “Ya…” Seonghwa whispers from above you. You look up slowly, your ears ringing in the sudden silence. “They’ll hear you, Wooyoung,” he mumbles, placing a finger to his lips. “Be quiet.”

     “Yeah, be quiet, Wooyoung,” San whispers, and you nearly sock him in the face. 

     Violence is the answer after the performance. Deep breaths. Calm… down…

     Performing is oddly comforting. A place where you can jump and run and dance and sing and shout and everyone fucking loves it. Fuck, it feels so nice. You get it within the first few songs – why Wooyoung is addicted to this life. It’s fucking awesome. 

     Standing there, dancing with a grin from ear to ear, an arm drapes over your shoulders and pulls you close. You don’t even care. The fans eat it up. They scream and squeal and call out your names. 

     Your eyes meet Choi San’s, the two of you swaying and vibing with the music. He grins, his brows softly scrunched as he shouts out the lyrics of someone else’s part. No one can hear him, but he shouts it anyway, and he’s banging his head, messing up the beautiful work the stylists had done to his black hair. He’s so stupid, is all you can think at all. How can someone be so fucking stupid? 

     He brings the mic to his lips, and his head stills, his eyes locked in yours. You can hear him now, and, wow, his voice is really pretty. Of course, someone stupid can have a pretty voice. It’s not unheard of. Whatever.

     You shrug his arm off and hop to the other side of the stage. 

     “Fuck yeahhh!!!!!” you exclaim as you leap down the stairs backstage. Your fists are jumping the air as you squeal, punching and swinging until you’re panting by yourself against the wall, leaning back against it with a wide grin.

     You’re breathing so fast, your heart racing, and your chest hurts like crazy, but you’re still so fired up, too happy and excited to care. That was so fun. You miss it already. You want to go back up on stage. You want to sing more songs. You want…

     Fuck, it’s really hard to breathe when you do so much without any breaks. Your smile is slowly fading as you try to concentrate on your breath. You bring your hands to your chest in confusion, feeling the tight binder under your grasp. It hasn’t caused problems before. It shouldn’t fucking start causing problems now. 

     But you feel your face turning red, and you aren’t angry at all. You can’t fucking breathe.

     You choke on your next inhale, bending over as you break out in breathless coughs and gasps. Fuck, fuck! Your eyes are gonna pop the fuck out. You’re grabbing at your shirt, inhaling desperately, but nothing fucking comes in! The ground is getting too close… 

     Your forehead slams against the ground before the rest of your body follows. You can’t even shout or cry, your body curling in on itself as your vision turns to static, your hearing gone, your sense tingling. 

     You’re lifted delicately and slowly from the ground, your eyes closed with hot tears streaming down your cheeks. You wish that hit was enough to knock you out, but here you are in agonizing pain. 

     “Young-ah!” San must be here. You’re sitting now… on the floor. You can hardly open your eyes, but you feel his hands rushing to carefully remove your stage top. You’re wearing several layers on top of the binder, but alarm shoots through you when you see him taking them off one by one. Your eyes open wide, and you push him away with a gasp. He falls back, his brows furrowed in confusion. You clutch what’s left of your top, breathing heavily as you grit your teeth, your jaw trembling. 

     “Get out,” you say, hardly able to say it loud enough for his stupid fucking ears to hear. “Get out!” He doesn’t want to go. It’s clear, but you don’t need his help. “I’m fine,” you mutter. “I just need some time alone. I got dizzy.” 

     He slowly gets up, feeling a little speechless, a little betrayed. But he leaves finally, and you rush into a stall, lock the door, and tear the binder from your chest. You can breathe, and you collapse onto the toilet, gulping the air down as you lean your head against the wall beside you. Your heart can finally calm down, your breaths steadying nicely. But your chest pulls tight quickly as you start to regain some sense in your spinning mind.

     This is so humiliating. 

     How could you almost let yourself get caught like that? How could you let yourself succumb to the weak efforts of the traitor wrapped around your chest? You grip the binder with a newfound hatred, glaring at it as your ears turn a deep shade of red.

     No, it isn’t even your fault. It’s this fucking thing’s fault! And once everything’s over, you’re gonna make Choi San wear it for twice the time you will. He needs it more than you anyway with his massive… You glance away from your hands when you witness your fingers scrunch like a pervert in your lap. 

     Whatever. It’s not a big deal anyway. 

     “What are you doing here?” you ask, entering the code to your room with tired, hooded eyes. San is wearing pajamas, and he’s showered and squeaky clean, but his presence alone stinks like a possessive stalker cat. That’s a real thing. “It’s been a long day. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” Don’t cats sleep more than this? Why is he suddenly acting like he could be human?

     “You owe me,” he mumbles, and you eye him, pausing as you open the door. He’s pouting, looking away stubbornly. “For making me worry.”

     “Are you serious?”

     He turns defensively, pointing at your chest but not daring to touch you. “How am I supposed to sleep if I don’t see you’re okay, first?” he argues, his brows raised as he looks at you expectantly. You say nothing.

     So he just goes inside. You don’t stop him. You’re too tired to stop him. You just want to shower and go to sleep. The stage was fun, but you’ve never been more exhausted in your entire life. You’ve never been tired enough to not get angry. It’s a first. 

     But when you’re done showering, changing, skincaring, and refreshing, and you finally have a soft, natural smile on your face, you’re met with a cat lying on your bed, fast asleep. He’s curled up in your blankets, his face buried in your pillow, his chest enveloping YOUR plushie. 

     Absolutely not.

     He groans at the disturbance as you grab his hair. He isn’t in pain as you pull his head up, glaring at his half-asleep features, and you know because he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to wake up. 

     “Get out of my bed,” you say. He smiles a small little devilish smile. 

     “But it’s a sleepover,” he grumbles, and you drop his head to the pillow with an exasperated scoff. 

     “Are you a child?” you ask in disbelief.

     “Yes, now, go to sleep,” he mumbles, drifting away again.

     “No,” you say sternly. “I want to sleep alone. Leave.”

     He looks up at you then, a shimmer in his pleading eyes, but you don’t let up. You keep your glare sharp and persistent until he sighs and starts to drag himself up, his body rolling to sitting dramatically. He gets up with a loud huff and stares at you as if giving you a final chance to change your mind. 

     “Get out,” you say, pushing him lightly. He hardly budges. “Get out, get out, get out… I’m so tiiired.” You push him again and again with each huff until he’s at the door, and you close it in his stupid face. And, finally, you’re alone. 

     You throw the covers back and shove your legs under them, ignoring how warm he made the bed as you roughly snuggle into your favorite spot. Your phone vibrates just as you let out a content, sleepy sigh. You open your eyes with an irritated stare at the bright light on your bedside table. Your face is shown on the screen, an old photo from your trainee days. You know the photo. Yeosang is on your right and Wooyoung is on your left, but he cropped both of them out. He said it’s the only picture he has of you where you’re genuinely smiling and really, truly happy. For that, he loves it. Sometimes your brother can be sweet.

     You put the phone next to your ear so no one can hear him from another room. 

     “Ya, are you being mean to him?” 

     Your eyes roll to the back of your brain, trembling and hurting before you let them back down. “No,” you answer.

     “You’re a liar,” he scoffs. “There’s a clip going viral of you and San, you know.”

     You raise a brow. “A clip?”

     “Atiny love Woosan interactions,” he sighs. “They eat it up.”

     “Uh huh,” you breathe, more interested in the shadows on the ceiling than this fucking lecture. 

     “You two were giving the audience what they really wanted to see,” he sighs, “but then you rolled your eyes at him and scurried away like a cat!” He’s laughing at you, wheezing like an idiot as you feel your face grow hot.

     “Cats are evil,” you mutter. “I’m not a fucking cat.”

     “Don’t lie to yourself,” he laughs. “You’re the definition of a cattitude.”

     “What the fuck is that?” you huff, two seconds away from hanging up the phone. Why did he even call you anyway? To nag you about playing with this manipulative evil Choi San? He can talk your ear off all he wants, but no one gets to act in such a way around you or your brother, and he’ll learn that soon. 

     “Listen, listen…” He’s trying to calm his breath as he settles his laughter. “I know you hate that kind of fanservice, but you really should put in some effort, Y/n,” he sighs. “If you, or, me and San are visibly separated like that, people are gonna ask questions. Including the members.”

     “Maybe it’s about time you change things up anyway,” you huff.

     “You’re ridiculous.”

     “I’m tired. Good night.” 

     You don’t let him finish before you hang up the phone and turn over to shut your eyes. You start to calm down a little as you let the warmth of the bed sink into your skin. It’s never been this warm this quick before, and it’s making you so drowsy, even after a rise in your heart rate. You fall asleep in no time. 

     And good sleep brings good attitude, so the morning is bright and nice for your mind. You wake up feeling refreshed and leave bed not dreading the day. Until you open your door, and all of that disappears quickly when you take a step out and find your foot squishing into a giant man’s chest. 

     You scurry away, almost screaming, cause what the fuck? 

     Choi San has set up camp outside your bedroom door, snoozing away with pillows and blankets lining the hall in a fluffy makeshift bed. His hair is a mess as he lifts his head in confusion, and his sleepy eyes meet yours in thin, happy slits. 

     “Good morning, Youngie,” he mumbles. You immediately scratch the little skip your heart did at the sound of his morning voice. 

     You’re starting to grow hot with anger as you look at the mess, think about everything, and think about everything once more. How could he sleep there?! You told him to go away! How could he just ignore that boundary and sleep outside your room?! Your cheeks are growing pink, but you shake your thoughts away. You must not engage. You should just go. Then, you won't see him anymore, and you can't possibly be mad anymore. 

     You step with huffing breaths past his limbs under the blankets and stomp away to the kitchen. Maybe some food will make you happy again. 

     You’ve found that Wooyoung has made a lot of promises before leaving them for you to go through with. 

     You’ve had to make Jongho dinner at least three times so far, always being met with puppy eyes and pouty lips saying, “You promised.” Fuck that! You can’t even fucking cook. You’re ruining your brother’s reputation, and, you know what, you can’t even find yourself to care with how hard he’s making you work. 

     Yunho was promised a whole night of gaming. You haven’t played a video game since you were a trainee. You can hear his disappointment each time you die immediately, but he’s too nice to yell at you. 

     You have to go out to eat with Yeosang, but you don’t mind that actually. 

     San claims to be promised many things, but you break those without a second thought. 

     And Seonghwa was promised a lego live and slumber party in his room. 

     You’ve gotten to know Seonghwa well over the past few weeks, and you like him. He’s cute and takes good care of the members, but he has this elegance to him that makes interacting with him so pleasant. So you agree to do the live, and you agree to sleep over, even if he’s Choi San’s roommate. 

     Immediately this seems like something you won’t be good at. The lights are dim, the camera is pointed at your face, and the pieces are so tiny, scrambled in little bags over the table. The space is small. His room is small, to begin with, but he invited you here because you would be working on the same set, so it’s okay if the pieces get scrambled a bit. 

     Seonghwa is the cleanest person you’ve ever met, which comforts you to some extent. Everything about this room is calming. It’s all neat and organized, and your eyes have no reason to find anything about it annoying. You love it. But you know this little craft will make you go insane. You already know, and you haven’t touched a single piece. 

     “Hi, everyone,” he says softly to the camera. His voice is so gentle, much like his movement as he waves. “Wooyoung finally is joining me to build legos with Atiny.”

     “Hi, hi,” you say with a wide smile to showcase Wooyoung’s playful dimples. 

     “I’m excited for today, maybe more than Tiny is,” he mumbles, smiling to himself as he plays with his computer to make sure everything’s looking nice. “Wooyoung promised a slumber party today.” He covers his mouth as he huffs a shy laugh. “So he has to spend a lot of time with his hyung.”

     You huff a laugh too, nodding. “Honestly, this week’s been a little stressful for me, but I think I’ll be able to relax well thanks to him.”

     Honestly, you’re so fucking nervous. So many things could go wrong. So many things could set you off. There are so many things to be worried about, and… You won’t be able to take off the binder until you go back home… and who knows if you’ll be able to until tomorrow night…

    You swallow your thoughts to the pit of your fluttering stomach as you try to bring your focus back to the soft aroma around you. 

     Seonghwa’s telling the fans about his day and the set as he starts to open the first bag. You take a subtly deep breath. 

     The live goes relatively well. You have to excuse yourself to the restroom only once from frustration, running cold water over your flushed cheeks to drain out the color a little. Other than that, assembling legos is nice, and Seonghwa is a relaxing yet engaging person to interact with. It… makes you forget… everything. It’s like you’re truly meant to be there. It feels natural. It makes your mind fade gently into this little life, even if just for an hour or so. It makes you forget your anger.

     Until you’re alone again, and this feeling is even more familiar. This is how it usually is. You’ve grown accustomed to being delighted by some peoples’ presence or angered by others, but your roots are truly engraved in you. It’s a bit empty… staring at yourself in the mirror on Seonghwa’s wall and realizing you don’t actually belong here. The illusion that you’re meant here or suddenly not lonely… is being written into your head too deep. It should stop before you get attached. 

     The binder wrapped around your chest is so uncomfortable, especially since you’ve been wearing it for the entire day. You should take it off, even if it’s just for a few minutes. It feels wrong taking it off in a stranger’s room, but-!

     Your head whips around as the door opens, and Choi San walks inside. You cover your chest with the shirt in your hand immediately, your eyes bulging and heart stopped, but he doesn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling by and collapsing on Seonghwa’s bed. His eyes are closed, his body limp and tired. You throw the shirt over your head and take a deep breath. 

     “I was changing,” you mutter, your body practically shaking as you try not to scream at him. “You couldn’t knock?”

     “Hm…?” he grumbles, lifting his head sleepily. “Hi, Young-ah.”

     “Choi San!” you shout, covering your mouth quickly to pinch your fucking lips shut. You’re turning red. This is so humiliating. He obviously doesn’t care. Wooyoung probably wouldn’t care. But you fucking care, and you can’t even tell him why. “Knock next time,” you force out quietly. He hums in acknowledgment, but you hardly hear it as you leave the room. 

     You can’t do this. You’ll tell Seonghwa you don’t feel good, and he’ll let you go. He’ll be sad, but whatever. You can’t deal with that bastard. You can’t fucking do it. 

     But Seonghwa looks so excited when you come out in the matching pajamas he got for the slumber party. He’s gasping and fangirling over you as you stomp over to him. Each step seems to become just a little softer as his smile numbs your tantrum. 

     “Ya~!” He takes you in as you stand a few feet away. “Jung Wooyoung? Who are you? You’re too pretty to be Wooyoung,” he compliments. You might’ve frozen up at something like that, but, for some reason, you take it without a second thought, smiling proudly like a cute kitten, folding your arms at your sides as you pose for him. 

     No. You can’t stay. You need to leave. 

     “H..yung,” you mumble, the word a little unfamiliar to your lips. “Actually, I…”

     “Seriously,” he huffs, coming closer, and you shut your mouth. He leans down and stares intently at your features. You can’t help but look away, your cheeks growing red as he examines you. “Your face has been so cute lately,” he mumbles. “Are you in love?”

     “No,” you scoff.

     “Are you lying?”

     “I’m not!” you mumble, backing away slightly. He looks at you in disbelief. “I’m really not!” 

     “You’ve gotten a little shorter too.. ya… Do you wear high platforms to seem taller?”

     Three centimeters isn’t even that much shorter… How could he notice something like that..? You nod, rolling your eyes. “So what?”

     “It’s not good to wear them too much,” he sighs as he walks by.

     “Whatever,” you huff, patting your cheeks as you let your quiet panic settle down. He doesn’t actually suspect anything. He’s just calling Wooyoung cute, which is a very valid observation.

     “No,” Seonghwa says sternly when he walks into his room to see a snoozing cat on his bed. “No, get out.” 

     He grabs San’s ankles and pulls him up the bed. San just groans and lets himself get dragged, his shirt riding up his torso until he’s at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor, his toned stomach on full display, and you… You look away, letting Seonghwa take care of the hindrance. 

     “Hyung,” San whines. “No one will play with me!” 

     Seonghwa scoffs. “San, what’s with you these days? Everyone hangs out with you all the time, but you keep complaining 'cause you don’t want to.”

     “I want to play with Wooyoungie,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet yours for less than a second. “He’s so cute lately, but he won’t play with me anymore.” He frowns, looking frustratingly at the ceiling. “I don’t know if I should like it or hate it.”

     “You should hate it,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “And you should get out. The room isn’t big enough for your broad shoulders.”

     He glares at you, but you don’t care. That’s what you want. But when Seonghwa tries to drag him out again, he refuses. 

     “Hyung, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying I didn’t want to play with you. Please let me stay. I’m so bored. Please?” 

     There is NOT enough room for you, Hyung, and Choi San’s huge ass shoulders, and you’re so fucking close to chopping them off and shoving them through his pouty lips as he eats YOUR cake. The movie isn’t entertaining, despite your attempts to understand it for Seonghwa’s sake, so you're left with your mind focused on every little hindrance he brings to this otherwise nice night. 

     “You know, Choi San, there’s a lot of room on the floor for people with wide shoulders,” you huff. 

     He gives you a wide smile, shoving his dimples into your hooded eyes. “There’s room on my lap for little brats.” 

     You scoff, glaring at his brows as they raise. He pats his lap expectedly, but you look away with a huff. 

     “You could at least let us eat the cake we bought for us,” you grumble. “Instead of gobbling it up yourself.” 

     “No,” he says. “Seonghwa stole and ate my cake, so he doesn’t deserve any of his.” You eye him in disbelief. Is he a child? “But Wooyoungie can have as much as he wants.” He holds up a big bite, smiling big as he waits for you to chomp it off the fork. 

     “No thanks,” you decline. “You ate from that fo-”

     He pinches your puffed-out cheeks together and opens your mouth, the cake pushed inside and smooshed against your teeth as he feeds you the bite. Your brows knit together as he pulls his hand away. 

     “Isn’t it tasty?” he asks, and you shake your head out of spite. “You’re so cute,” he laughs, his thumb wiping away some cream from your bottom lip. He brings it to his own and licks it off without a second thought.

     Your eye twitches as you force your head to turn back to the TV. You should calm down. If your tight fists happened to collide with his face, Seonghwa wouldn’t like it very much. For Seonghwa’s sake, you should just ignore him. 

     But San’s shoulders are just so wide. Every time he tries to move, he bumps into you, and you can’t stop yourself from bumping back. He glares at you, and you glare back, shoulder to shoulder. It’s a war. You use your hands this time, moving his arm further from your body, but he moves it back. 

     “Are you serious?” you whisper harshly.

     “Shh, I’m trying to watch the movie.”

     “Bullshit.”

     His eyes go wide. “Language!” he whispers, and you bump his shoulder in annoyance. 

     He doesn’t just do it back, though, he leans over and grabs your waist, and you jump. His fingers jab into your flesh, and the most uncomfortable sensation fills you. You’re helpless to his attack, pressed against the wall as he evades every defensive grab of your hands. 

     “Choi San,” you scold, but the jabs turn to tickles quickly, and an involuntary grin spreads across your gasping lips. “San, stop!” you laugh, pushing against his hands but failing as he keeps moving them to new places. You push against his chest hard, and he falls back a little, freezing when he bumps into the other man in the bed. 

     He turns his head around slowly, met with a blank expression from Seonghwa, simply trying to watch the movie.

     “We’re sorry, Hyung,” San mumbles, his head low. The floor is hard against your knees, but you honestly deserve it after ruining the night Seonghwa planned. “We got carried away.”

     “What’s up with you two?” he sighs, standing in disappointment above the both of you. “Why are you at each other’s throats every two seconds these days?”

     “He started it,” you mumble.

     “I’m sorry, Hyung,” San says, trying not to laugh, and you glare at him. “He’s just so cute when he’s mad.”

     “Seriously, San?” Seonghwa sighs.

     “It’s not my fault he looks extra… adorable lately! Like-!” He turns to you with great determination, motioning toward your features one by one. “His eyes are bigger, his lashes are longer, his nose is prettier, his lips are plumper, his mole…” He squints his eyes, but you cover your cheek quickly.

     “I’m wearing makeup,” you mumble.

     He moves your hand without much effort. “No, you’re not… Where’s your mole���” he mumbles. 

     “I…” Your eyes shoot from San to Seonghwa. “It..”

     “You see what I mean?” he huffs, resting his case. “How do I put it… He’s so… different these days. I feel my heart flutter when he looks at me.”

     “Please,” you scoff.

     “Really!” he defends, backing away a little as you feel your anger rise. He can probably sense the shift in the atmosphere by now. “I don’t know what to do with myself, Hyung.” He turns back to Seonghwa. “So… it’s not really my fault.”

     So San is kicked out to his own room to sleep. You argued his shoulders are far too wide for the room. Seonghwa agreed, and now it’s finally just the two of you in your matching pajamas. 

     “We’re so cute.” He smiles, happily biting into the strawberry cream cake sitting between you two. “We should have slumber parties more often.”

     You nod, melting as you take another bite. “And I understand why you love building legos now,” you mumble. “It was very comforting.”

     There’s a nice, long moment of silent cake-eating as you both delight in its taste without a greedy cat eating it all. 

     “Wooyoung,” he says. “You know… if you keep acting so obvious about it, people will realize…”

     You shoot your eyes up from the cake, your heart stopping for a moment. “What?”

     He reaches out and taps just below your eye. “That you removed your mole.”

     Your brows lift as relief fills you. “Oh! My mole!” you laugh, and he laughs too, nodding. 

     “I know you don’t really want to bring attention to it, but you’re so bad at keeping secrets.” 

     You nod, taking another stressful bite. “Thank you, Hyung. I’ll work on it.”

     You both finish the cake and giggle and talk all night until you glance at the clock and gasp because it’s almost two in the morning. You rush to wash up and get into bed, still giggling over stupid things. But as soon as the light is off and the room goes silent, you feel yourself dying down and drifting off quickly, like some teenagers after a long day. 

     Seonghwa’s bed is small, but there’s enough room for the two of you to drift off in your own areas. Seonghwa falls asleep first, making small sighs and mumbles as he snoozes away. It’s so cute. You listen to him for a while before you finally let your mind rest. 

     Wooyoung messages you every morning, telling you to eat and to be kind and shit, but this morning is different. It’s been a few days since your slumber party with Seonghwa, and everything has fallen into place. It all really feels like routine by now, like this is natural for you. Until you’re hit with a fucking brick, remembering the reality of the situation once again. 

Y/n-nie: you got a notification..what does two days left mean??

Y/n-nie: ??

Y/n-nie: are you going to kill someone? are you counting down… IS IT CHOI SAN?!?

Y/n-nie: DONT FUCKING TOUCH HIM!

     You put the phone down and stare at the wall. Your period. You’d completely forgotten about the monthly punishment for being female. 

     You have no pads… You have no comfort items. Do they keep pain medicine in the dorms? How the fuck will you gather supplies without anyone knowing? Especially considering that leech, Choi San. 

     Fuck, now that you’re awake, there’s definitely an ache forming. That useless app never guesses right. It always comes a day or so early. You groan as you force yourself out of bed.

     The convenience store down the street has everything you need. You’re biting your lip to wait until you have some water to ease the pain with a pill, so you rush back to the dorm. 

     Jongho is eating breakfast when you trudge back inside. He looks over curiously at the sound of the plastic bag. 

     “What did you buy so early in the morning?” he asks. “Did you sneak out so you could get a sweet treat for yourself?” he accuses.

     “No,” you grumble, pulling the bag a little behind your back so he can’t see. “It’s nothing.”

     He immediately gets up, and you back away. “Why are you hiding it then?” he asks, raising a brow. He reaches behind you, but you pull it away. 

     “It’s nothing,” you mumble, your cramps worsening as you stand still. “Go eat your breakfast. I have to go get ready.”

     “Hyung, you’re the worst liar,” he chuckles, and his hand snags the bag. You grab it back, pulling and keeping it closed as he tries to peek inside. You rip the bag in half as you try to get it back, but you snatch the pads midair and run to your room. 

     You really can’t do this right now. You’re bent over, leaned against the locked door as you try to ground yourself. It takes slow steps to make it to the bathroom. There are just a few small drops of blood on your panties, so you ignore them and stick a pad over. But you can’t get up. The pain has tripled since you walked through your bedroom door. There’s a growing buzz vibrating in your head as you lean it against the cold tile of the wall. Fuck, you hope you don’t pass out here. You’re sweating, hot and limp yet tense in your core, or else you think your guts might fall out. You feel like you might throw up, but that should pass quickly if you wait patiently. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain only gets worse. And the binder around your chest… fuck, you can’t breathe. You take it off and leave it on the floor as you stumble to wash your hands and make it to the bed. 

     You search for the medicine you bought, but it’s not on the counter or floor or anything. You take a deep breath to hold in your frustration and just make it your goal to curl up in bed. 

     It feels a little better, no binder, soft surface, fluffy blankets draped over you, your legs pulled loosely to your chest as you lay limply on your side. You have a schedule today, but it’s not too important. You should tell your manager you’re sick, but you don’t have your phone near you. You can’t even begin to think of where that might be.

     There’s a soft knock at your door, and it takes a second for you to call out for them to just come in. 

     “Sorry, Young-ah,” San says softly as he peeks inside. “You must’ve been sleeping.”

     “No, it's okay,” you mumble, honestly just a little relieved to have something for your mind to be focused on that isn’t the knives stabbing into you. 

     He steps inside and closes the door. “Are you okay?” he asks as he takes in the view of you. You’re sweating and breathing heavily, curled into yourself. “Do you have a fever?”

     “I…It hurts all over,” you mumble, and his expression changes from worry to pain as he watches you shift and whimper softly.

     He leans down, his face just inches from yours as he gazes at your features, gently tucking away the hair in front of your eyes. “Close your eyes, baby, I’ll make you feel better.”

     If you could move at all, you’d punch yourself at the way your heart flutters just slightly. Instead, you listen and close your eyes, gazing just a second longer at his gentle features. 

     “Youngie~” It’s such a gentle voice, a sweet hum to your pounding ears. A soft hand is placed against your cheek, your head lifted slowly, as if not to disturb your sleep, as if you’re the most delicate thing to ever touch his skin. As if it’s actually carefilled, loving. 

     San’s face is clear even before his features straighten in your hazy gaze. His eyes are trained on your lips, careful fingers softly pushing two pills between them. A glass taps them then, and warm tea meets your tongue at a slow, patient pace. You swallow, a shiver gliding down your chest to your aching stomach as the delightful warmth of the tea touches your swollen insides. 

     “Did you eat yet today, Youngie?” he asks, placing your head back on the fluffy pillow. 

     “No,” you mumble. “I’m not hungry.”

     “You should eat something,” he says, and he starts to get up, but your eyes widen a little. If he leaves, your mind will focus on the pain, and it hurts so much. You reach out before you can even think and grab his sleeve. “I’ll be right back,” he says, gently clasping your hand as he tries to leave. “It’ll make you feel-”

     “Please stay,” you mumble. “Just for a little… It still hurts so much.” You pull a little, and he steps closer. “L-lay with me for a bit?” What are you even saying? You just… know he can make you feel better. You don’t care about anything except making the cramps disappear quickly. 

     The bed sinks softly as he lays behind you. Under the covers, a new warmth meets your back, a soft breath against your neck. You relax against him, feeling the subconscious tension in your limbs fall into his calming aroma. His body curls into yours, matching your form, bigger and warmer, keeping you perfectly content aside from the dulling ache. 

     “What’s wrong, Youngie?” he mumbles, his warm breath puffing gently across your skin. “Did you overwork yourself again?” 

     You lower your gaze to the movement of the blanket as he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand meeting your stomach. His fingers dip under your shirt, spreading across the width of your body, and you shudder at the feeling. You should probably move away. He could find out your secret. You wouldn’t mind. He could make you forget all about the pain and make you drift asleep with his touch. 

     “We love you, Wooyoung.” His thumb caresses your skin in slow rubs. “You can take your time, and we’ll always be here to listen to your troubles. You don’t have to keep them all to yourself.”

     You don’t say anything. It’s not really your place to say anything anyway. Even if… some people should know their place, it’s good to know Wooyoung has a family he can count on.

     You’ve mastered the art of Wooyoung. It’s been five weeks since you took your brother’s place, and you feel very immersed in the role. You’ve learned all of the inside jokes by now, figured out each of the members, and perfected almost all of their choreographies. You could become Wooyoung at this point, and no one would ever know. You survived your period without anyone knowing. Sure, everyone knew there was something wrong, pitying you the whole week while you wobbled around, but no one suspected a thing. You’re just too good at this. 

     “Sangie,” you mumble, chewing happily on the freshly grilled meat. “Should we visit my sister next time we have a break?” 

     Yeosang smiles at the sudden suggestion. “Sure. I haven’t seen her in years.” Oh, he’s so cute. 

     If Yeosang comes to visit you once you’re back in your old life, you’ll be able to get a glimpse of the little chapter in your boring life you actually enjoyed. So you’ll set up lots of dates and promises before you leave. Serves Wooyoung right anyway. 

     “Another bottle of soju, please!” Seonghwa calls out, sitting across from you at the table. He smiles when he catches your eye. “You’ve worked so hard, Wooyoung. Let it out tonight.”

     “Kay,” you mumble happily through your food.

     The company dinner is a nice reward after your endless effort to keep up with the schedule that comes with Wooyoung’s life. The food is delicious, the atmosphere is bustling and joyful, and you get to drink for the first time in fucking forever. 

     Every shot makes you melt into your seat, a content, relaxing sigh leaving your lips. Except… 

     “Youngie, plea~se!” There’s been a child whining in your ear the whole night. “Please do it with me?” 

     San’s face is bright red, his eyes glazed over as he rocks back and forth with a strong pout. You’re ignoring him, enjoying your food without even listening to his request. 

     “I’ll do anything,” he mumbles, feeling a little defeated. Your brow quirks at that.

     “Anything?” His posture fixes itself as soon as your eyes land on him, and he nods eagerly. 

     He’s so fucking drunk. He said he was a good drinker but got quiet after two shots. Then he started begging to have a competition. You might indulge… if it means you can get something from him. Amusement at watching him humiliate himself. You giggle to yourself before turning to him with a newfound encouragement. 

     “Pour the shots.”

     His hand is trembling as he clanks the bottle against your glass, nearly spilling the whole thing as he pulls away. You bring the glass to your lips when he does, and you catch his eye, a determined look in him. 

     One shot, and he’s breathing heavily, but he won’t give in. You’re a pretty good drinker, but you’ve already had a lot, and you’re getting pretty hazy yourself.

     Two shots. Three shots. Seven shots. You’ve finished two bottles, one each, and you can hardly keep your vision straight. He’s swaying back and forth, arms limp in his lap as he stares blankly at you. You both lost, but you probably won’t remember the whole event by morning, so you forget it, slamming your head to the table with a huff. 

     San mumbles something, as he gets up. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom. It would be so funny if he drops outside the toilet and everyone would see him. You snort to yourself. You wanna see it happen. 

     You stumble to your feet, following him through the tables to the bathrooms. It’s empty inside, quiet and dim. He goes in and stands by the mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning against his cool hands. 

     “Wooyoung… what are you doing to me…” His voice is so low and slurred, but you make out every word, and it fills you with rage. This again?! You thought by now he’d have learned his lesson and kept away, but he’s still going after you? No, after your brother?! You guess he’s so fucking slow, he needs it shoved in his face. 

     “Choi San!” you shout, and he looks up, shocked. “Shut the fuck up!” He frowns as you stomp over to him, looking guilty but not sure why. You grab his wrist and unhook that fucking binder. As it falls to the floor, you shove his hand under your shirt and onto your chest. His eyes widen like crazy as you scowl at him, his hand trembling. “I’m not fucking Wooyoung! And you need to learn your fucking place!” you shout, panting. “You don’t get to-!”

     “So that’s why…” he mumbles, his fingers twitching around your flesh. “I’ve wanted to fuck you lately…”

     Your face drops, your brows knitting together. “What?”

     “Fuck…” he groans, squeezing your breast as he takes in your flushed form against his. “That’s why your face is so pretty. I’ve wanted to kiss you so bad. Every time you yell at me, I’ve wanted to push you so far, so you just shove me to the ground and have your way with me.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. “Because you’re not Wooyoung. I probably knew the whole time… you just can’t guess something like that.”

     “Yeah?” you scoff, and he nods, bringing his hands to your hips as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re a fucking liar. I know you just want to take advantage of Wooyoung.”

     “I’ve never thought of him like that until recently. Until it wasn’t him.”

     Fuck. Fuck! He’d practically known the whole time?! If he knew the differences right away, who knows if you even got away with any of it at all? You bite your lip, trembling with frustration and anger. 

     “You weren’t very good at hiding it… now that I think about it.” 

     You shove him against the wall, a deep scowl on your features. His grin as you shove your finger into his chest just fuels you even more. “Bastard,” you bite. “I worked day and night for fucking weeks, and you aren’t even surprised?! It wasn’t worth it at all?!”

     “Don’t be mad,” he coos, leaning forward again. 

     Your restraints are snapping one by one as you glare from his cat-like smile to his squinted eyes. He’s having the time of his life. You don’t even try to stop your hand from wrapping around his throat as he leans closer and closer. You close your fingers, tightening just as his lips meet yours with a low groan. 

     The movement is intense as soon as the flame is lit. His lips don’t fight for the dominance you place over his, your hand around his neck bringing him lower, closer to your dangerous taste. Your breaths are tangled, vocal, and quick as you kiss over and over in a maddening dance. 

     “Don’t fuck with me,” you growl, but his only response is to cup your face and bring you closer, biting your bottom lip gently before kissing it better.

     You glare at him as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling lightly and fuming at the way he groans against your lips. What does this fucker not like? You really want to test his boundaries, make him regret playing with you. You want to push him to the ground and fucking destroy him just to watch him finally understand the authority you have over him. You-

     The door opens, and you’re both immediately separated, facing away from each other, pretending like nothing was happening. Jongho walks in, pausing when he sees the view. San’s messy hair, sticking up like it was clearly grabbed, your flushed faces, the piece of clothing at San’s feet. San kicks it behind him quickly. 

     Jongho gives a blank look. “Did you two fight again?” he asks, used to the cat fights by now. “Anyway, we’re going home. Come on, Hyung.” He motions for you to come, and you almost hesitate. If not for the much-needed clarity Jongho’s interruption brought, you would’ve done so much more damage. You would have ruined everything. You rush out of the room behind him. 

     “You can’t yet. We’re almost done here. Hold out for a little longer.” 

     “No. Fuck this! I can’t do this, Wooyoung! I’m going crazy!” you shout into your phone. “I…” You can’t fucking tell him. You’re being swayed by the members. Changed and warped into something you’re not. You’re starting to like it here, and you need to go back to your life… where no one else will ever bother you, and you can live alone again. Forever. “I need to get out of here,” you say.

     “Just one more week,” he says. “Please…” 

     One more week. “Fine.”

     But you’re not going to be nice about it. 

     San doesn’t talk to you, and you don’t talk to him, but you feel his eyes on you while you’re all practicing for an upcoming festival performance. He’s looking blankly. Maybe he doesn’t even remember what happened. But it doesn’t matter. You’ll never see him again after this performance. And you’re so fucking glad. 

     “Hyung, come on! Get into it!” Jongho shouts, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. 

     You give him an annoyed look, your head hurting too much to care much for the dance. The music is pounding in your ears, but you move anyway. They’re lucky they get that from you after a late night of drinking.

     “Hyung,” Jongho chuckles. “Why are you so down?” He leans in, giving you a suddenly serious expression. You lean away. “Is it ‘cause you and Sannie are fighting again?” 

     You eye him. “Yeah,” you mumble. “He’s a fucking jerk.”

     He laughs, smacking your chest, and you flinch. He keeps his hand there, though, raising a brow. You step away. “Hyung, are you working out more? Is Sannie forcing you to go to the gym with him? Is that why you’re always mad at him?” He goes to feel your chest again, but a veiny, furious hand grabs his wrist. 

     “Don’t touch people like that, Jongho,” a tight-voiced San spits bitterly. Jongho’s eyes grow a little wide as he tries to retract his hand. 

     “Fuck,” he grumbles, finally snatching his arms back, rubbing his wrist. “Sorry.” You’ve never seen the maknae so quick to listen, giving an annoyed look before walking away. 

     You don’t even bother with San, just walk away. Your head is fucking throbbing.

     “Get it together,” is all Hongjoong has to say to you and San when he pulls you aside the night before the performance in Japan. It’s obvious the chemistry and friendship Woosan have that the fans love is missing. It’s obvious to everyone that something is going on, and you’re just being petty, but you don’t fucking care. 

     After ignoring him for a week, though, you think you can get away with it. Until those bastards fucking lock you into a closet. They lure you in, and, suddenly, it’s just you, San, and a room hardly big enough for one person. 

     Your chest to his, feet staggered, breath against breath, and the need to fucking kill someone are all resting in this dimly lit closet. 

     “You two can come out when you’ve made up,” Hongjoong sighs. “If you miss the performance, so be it. You have thirty minutes.”

     “This is your fucking fault,” you scoff as soon as you hear him walk away.  

     “My fault? As if you didn’t lie to everybody and then make everything complicated by kissing me,” he argues. 

     “Me? You literally said you’d been thinking about fucking me!” you whisper aggressively. 

     “I was drunk!” 

     “So was I!”

     Your faces are hardly separated at all, your words and breaths mixing as the closet grows hotter and hotter. 

     “You! You lust after my brother! You’re a bastard!”  

     His brows twist in confusion. “I do not. He’s my best friend… I don’t like him like that!” 

     “Liar! We look exactly the same!” 

     He shakes his head quickly. “You have prettier eyes! They’re bigger, and the color is different!” He points to each feature, gazing at them with determination. “You have a cuter nose than him! Your lips are softer than his! Your hair is softer than his! Your jawline isn’t so defined! You have the cutest features that obviously aren’t his! Your body is smaller and the perfect shape! Your expressions are cuter! You get mad all the time, but you make the cutest face! You don’t even understand how unlike him you are! You’re so obviously Y/n! So maybe I did fall for you a bit when I thought you were your brother, but it’s because of those changes that make you so different from him! Because you’re fucking adorable!”

     He’s panting, scowling even, as you just stare at him. Honestly, you blanked out. You didn’t even hear the end. Your name rolled from his lips without a second thought. You can’t decide if it hurts your heart or fumes it with rage, or even if it makes you happy. You’re so conflicted, just staring in silence. 

     When the door opens again twenty minutes later, you’re both still staring in silence. Despite the threat, you both have to perform without giving evidence of reconciliation. 

     And, being on stage again, you’ve decided that you’re fucking pissed. Your mind goes a little blank as you perform the choreo you’ve recited for hours on end, day after day, just for your brother. You’re fuming, glaring at the crowd, the fans of your brother. The members who laugh and dance with your brother. Each move that adds to that fucking reputation you’re here to protect. For your brother. And the man who you came here to put in his place so that your brother is never hurt. The man who you refuse to accept you want just because he’s your brother’s best friend, and you need to protect your brother’s image and do every fucking thing for HIM. 

     You’re standing here at the edge of the stage, the instruments ringing in your ears. You’re red. You’re dancing in circles as you let the energy of the music take hold of your mind. You need to release everything, or you might just fall into the crowd. Your chest is so tight. You need something to get rid of this feeling. You’re so fucking sick of it. You want it gone. 

     The music? The fans? The dance? The members? The performance? Choi San? His hooded eyes meet yours as he leans closer. The cameras are on you, yet he moves closer and closer. You’re in a heated daze, meeting him closer. Your foreheads collide, your breaths dancing as he whispers to you. 

     “Use me.”

     “Get this off right now,” you demand, gripping his shirt as you stumble into your hotel room. You strip off your pants, backing him to the bed just as his shirt gets over his head. His breath hitches as he watches you toss your panties off to the side, gazing at your bare legs. You quickly throw your shirt over your head, and his eyes follow your fingers as they unzip the binder. Within a minute, your entire body is bare to him, and he’s so fucking hard. 

     You admire his chest, biting your lip as you run your fingertips over his beautiful features. It’s not like you aren’t used to it by now. The man lives without his shirt, but seeing it here, just for your eyes, makes you so excited.

     You push him to the bed, climbing on top of him. As soon as his head hits the mattress, two hands are grabbing his hair and shoving his mouth against your leaking cunt. You watch his eyes roll as he licks against your sweet core, his tongue grinding against your clit before he kisses it prettily. You sigh, grinding down against his tongue and pulling him closer by his messy locks. 

     “That’s it, Sannie,” you groan. “Use your lips for something good for once.” 

     His hands grab your thighs to pull you lower, putting your weight on his face until all he can feel or breathe is your pussy. His tongue is messy and quick, diving into your hole as he groans against you. 

     “You like that?” you scoff, biting your lip as he hums. “You liked being choked in the bathroom too, didn’t you? You wanna drown in my pussy?” You feel the bed shift as his hips buck slightly into the air. You know he’s rock hard, but he’s being good and not touching himself like you know he so desperately wants to. “Fuck,” you whimper as he sucks on your throbbing clit. “Only you can make me this wet anyway. You deserve it.”

     The sight is making you dizzy, his brows furrowed, eyes hazy as they gaze at your figure above him. His lips are pressing and pleasuring just the right spots, his tongue fucking your tight hole and drinking your arousal over and over again. You can’t help but let your voice escape in your breaths as you roll your hips along with his movements. 

     If you’d known he could do this, you might’ve told him earlier. No, that’s not true. Because you can’t have Choi San. You’ll fucking take him anyway.

     You push his face away, scowling as his warm breath fans your dripping folds. You move to sit on his lap, and he jolts when you grind your hips down on his erection. His mouth is messy with your arousal, his lips plump from their desperate work. 

     He wants you so fucking bad, but you can’t have him?! 

     You press your lips to his neck, noticing the way he bares the skin for you to taste. Your teeth graze his soft, unmarked skin, and you want to sink into him so fucking bad. You want to mark him and show everyone he belongs to you, even if you’re not allowed to have him. 

     You press your teeth into his throat lightly, and his breath hitches, his hips pressing up against you. His breath against your ear is heavy as his fingers entwine with your hair, pulling you closer to his neck, teeth deeper into his skin. That’s right. He wants to be used. He wants to be owned. 

     You bite his neck, a moan escaping his lips as he trembles beneath you. You lick at the indents, nibbling and sucking all over his neck to leave your trace. Every part of him should be marked. You’re fuming, latching onto his collarbone, his chest, nibbling on his nipple just to watch him get more and more worked up beneath you. 

     “Y/n,” he whimpers. It must have been ten minutes of this. He’s enjoying every little mark, every little sensation, panting and whimpering as you have your way with him.

     “What’s wrong, Sannie?” you ask, sitting between his legs, cheek resting on his inner thigh as he begs you with his gaze for more. “Does it hurt?” You gently poke his erection, straining painfully against his pants. 

     He nods. “You’re so mean,” he whines.

     “Don’t you know that’s what you signed up for?” you chuckle. “Don’t you know how fucking furious I am right now?!” He nods, biting his lip as he watches you eye the twitch in his bulge. “Playing with you is helping me, Sannie. I’m sorry if I’m being mean,” you coo. You tilt your head as an idea meets your mind. “Do you want to show me? How should I make it up to you?”

     “C-can I touch you?” he asks, his expression falling when you shake your head.

     “No, Sannie. How do you want me to touch you?” His eyes go a little wide in embarrassment. “Show me.”

     “I… I don’t know,” he mumbles, looking away as his face flushes a deep pink.

     “Come on, Sannie,” you mumble, stretching the waistband teasingly. “Don’t be shy. Show me how you want me to touch you.”

     His hands tremble as they hesitate with each motion toward his erection. He palms himself over his sweats first, gazing at your features as you watch his hand. He’s so embarrassed, but the eager, aroused expression on your face is spurring him on. He wants to give you everything you want. 

     His hand slides into his pants, and he takes his cock out, groaning at the way you lick your lips. He strokes himself slowly, tightly. He doesn’t want to cum. Not by himself. But the sight of you on top of him has him so fucking sensitive. Each slow stroke has an airy moan leaving his lips. He tries to keep them in because he’s so embarrassed to be feeling this good all on his own, but it’s useless. 

     His thumb swipes across the tip every few strokes, his body jolting each time. Precum is leaking more and more, and the sounds are getting so lewd, so wet. 

     “Do you like it there?” you ask, running the palm of your hand over the head. He moans, grabbing your wrist without even thinking. 

     “Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, it feels g-good there.”

     You sigh, sitting back and watching his thick fingers slide against himself. He’s big and thick, just like the rest of him. It’s veiny too, feeling far too explicit for the cute man Choi San is. Watching this innocent man stroke himself just the way he likes it just makes you so fucking desperate to get your hands back on him. 

     You bite your lip as you move off of him. 

     “Come here, Sannie.” 

     He’s quick to shove his pants off and move to between your legs, his hands finding your waist without a second thought, rubbing your soft skin as he catches his breath. 

     “I’m so frustrated,” you sigh. “But if we feel good together, I might feel better. Hmm?” You reach down and spread your slicked folds for him to see, inviting him inside, but he doesn’t move, his eyes trained on the sight. “Come on, San, fuck me.” 

     He groans, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your hole. Just as he’s about to push inside, you can’t help but crack a knowing smile. 

     “Since the head feels so good for you, only put that in,” you say, and his head shoots up so fast, his brows twisted in confusion.

     “Y/n,” he mumbles. “I wanna feel you, though.”

     “You showed me how you wanted to be touched, Sannie. I’ll make you feel good. With just the tip.”

     He looks devastated, and you almost laugh at how adorable it is. But he pushes inside anyway, jaw-dropping at how warm you are inside. 

     “Fuck,” you groan, your back arching as your mind goes blank for a moment, the pleasure of being stretched on his cock better than anything else. But he keeps going. “Sannie,” you warn, and he stops quickly, looking away guiltily. “Does it feel good?” You press yourself just a bit deeper, and he nods quickly, biting his lip as he glares at the connection between you two. 

     He doesn’t start moving until it becomes unbearable just sitting in your warmth. There’s hardly any way to move, but he grinds the tip in and out of your pussy, frustration and pleasure pulling at his mind. It’s so tight and wet, but he can hardly feel it. He wants to feel it all. He wants to fuck you hard and deep. This isn’t enough at all. 

     But you look like you could cum any second, his tip pressing against your g-spot, stretching you enough to grind just softly against your clit. It feels fucking amazing. And better yet, you know he’s getting pent up with every second he’s left with just an inch of your pussy to enjoy.

     “Y/n,” he huffs, gazing at you desperately, feeling dizzy with how you’re grinding against him, moaning and whimpering softly. “C-can I go deeper please?” he mumbles. 

     You shake your head. “I’m so close. Keep going,” you say breathlessly. 

     He gazes at how you’re dripping, soaking his length and the sheets. He watches you clench around what little your desperate pussy can find. He can’t help but want to feel you convulse around him. He needs something. Anything. So he rubs his fingers over your clit, watching your eyes roll back as you grind faster and harder, going just a bit deeper. Maybe you’d suck him in. He could go deeper without you even realizing it. He could feel your cream on his cock. He rubs faster, hearing the growing squelch of your overflowing slick as the length grinding inside becomes longer and longer. He holds his moans at the overwhelming pleasure slowly being revealed to him. Until you drop your hips, his cock pulling out completely. He glances at you in confusion. 

     “Are you being bad, Sannie?” you ask, panting and fuming at your orgasm being delayed simply because he couldn’t do what he was fucking told. “Were you being greedy? Gonna fuck me even though I said no?”

     He shakes his head quickly. “No!” he insists. “I was just trying to help you cum,” he mumbles. 

     “And you lie to me?” you scoff. “Bad boys don’t get rewards, Sannie. Sit there and be good for once, fuck.” You bring your fingers to your clit, and he stays still between your legs, cock hanging uselessly. You rub hard and fast, biting your lip as you rebuild the tension you’ve lost. 

     “You- You’re gonna cum on your own?” he mumbles, distressed as your soft moans get louder, and your movements get faster. “I- I can help,” he panics, but you push him away with your free hand with a grunt. He falls back onto the bed, eyes frantically switching from your throbbing pussy to your blissed-out expression as you get closer and closer. His chest is so tight. He wants to feel you cum around him so fucking bad, but you’re being so mean. Why the fuck are you messing with him so much?! He feels like a spoiled brat, but he’s so angry, so frustrated. He just wants to make you feel good, pound into your pussy, but you’re making everything so difficult!

     “F-Fuck me,” you moan out as you’re right on the edge. Your eyes meet his in a hazy glare, but he’s frozen. Did he hear you right? Your jaw is clenched as you hold in your orgasm for him. “Fuck. Me.”

     His cock slams into you, and you rub your clit fast and hard, your walls clenching around him as he thrusts quick and deep into you. Your eyes roll back as you let out your pent-up moans, your climax taking over your entire being, your limbs trembling as you cream around his cock. 

     His head falls to your shoulder as he whimpers with each hard, desperate thrust. His hips slam against yours, the slick between you making a mess on your skin. It’s loud and sloppy, no one caring much for decency anymore as you chase the pleasure you’d been building up for. His hands are on your hips, pulling you to meet each thrust impatiently. And his cock is so fucking thick, running along your walls and hitting every desperate spot within you.

     “San! Ngh~! San!” you moan, your voice being knocked out of you with each thrust. He’s panting against your skin as he bites and kisses your shoulder and neck. “K-kiss me,” you breathe, hardly able to get out a word that isn’t his name as his relentless pace drowns your thoughts. 

     His lips smash against yours, his hips rolling as he focuses on your tongue against his, the taste of you clouding his frustration for a long moment. 

     “Y/n,” he groans as your fingers run through his hair. “S-So pretty,” he mumbles, kissing you again and again. “So tight, just for me.” His hips pick up their pace again, and your lips can’t keep up with his, pleasure with each slam hitting your entire body. 

     He rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your teary eyes as your puffy lips fall apart into unsuppressable moans. He wraps his arms under your thighs and raises them higher, pressing deeper into you with each thrust. 

     “S-San,” you whimper, watching his hungry eyes move from your pussy to the tears dripping down your cheeks. “C-can you say my name?” 

     He pecks your lips, panting as he chokes out, “Y/n.” You nod, your pussy fluttering around him as his low voice meets your ears. 

     “San, fuck~” you shout as his fingers find your clit and rub fast. “Again, baby, please say it again.” Tears are streaming down your face as your clit and your hole are pleasured thoroughly, mind going blank as he growls your name again and again. 

     “San,” you pant. “S-San~ Ah.. ngh I’m so close,” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders as the pleasure moves faster and harder through your body. Your eyes are rolled back, your head dipped into the pillow as you thrust your pussy against his sloppy movements, his voice getting higher and more desperate with yours. 

     “Y/n, Y/n, fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls, slamming your hips against his cock as he buries himself deeper and deeper, losing his rhythm. “Cum with me, baby- ngh~” he moans, and you pull him as close as possible, your arms wrapped around his head as your body convulses with immense pleasure, his thrusts riding your high and fingers keeping it going for so fucking long, your lips trembling and voice breaking as you let go. He buries himself deep, his cock twitching as he meets you there, his voice high and unsuppressed right beside your ear. You’re filled with his warmth, spasming as you feel him fill you. You’re so full, so warm, so satisfied, panting as you hold him close. 

     Your legs slowly slide to the bed as he lets himself lean his weight on you, just slightly. You don’t mind. It’s warm and comforting, being so close, being so vulnerable. His head slowly rises, and you let him, your arms falling to the bed. His eyes are still hazy, meeting yours with soft trembles. He gives you a soft, lazy kiss before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you. 

     You don’t say a word as you curl into his chest, letting him hold you there, breath against breath, no worries nor thoughts, just comfort. 

     “A sex cult?” His jaw drops, and you nod, cracking up. “How do you even…” He sighs. “He’s so odd.” 

     “But we used to do this all the time as kids. You know, I trained with Yeosang and Wooyoung at BigHit.” 

     San raises a brow. “Sangie didn’t recognize you?”

     “Well, it’s been a while, and… you know,” you giggle. “He never really knows what’s going on.”

     He laughs, nodding as he holds you close to his chest. “You’d think he’d remember such a feisty personality.”

     You pucker your lips. “I’d say it’s more passionate than feisty,” you mumble. “I can’t help but get angry… I’m sorry for being so rude.”

     He pauses for a second, then pushes you away so he can really look at your face. “No, I don’t accept your apology. Why did you tease me so much?” 

     You blush, looking away shyly. “I didn’t really…”

     “I was dying, Y/n,” he says, completely serious. “You enjoyed my struggle.”

     “Well,” you huff. “I was so angry at everything. I just needed you to fuck it out of me, you know?” He raises his brows. “You wouldn’t have if I asked. You’d be too careful about it,” you argue. “So I just worked you up to it. I’m sorry, Sannie.” 

     He grins, shaking his head in disbelief before pulling your head back to his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

     “Wooyoung, when will you be here?” you whine into the phone, lying lazily on your couch. 

     Wooyoung promised to bring Yeosang and San to your hometown during their next break. It’s been a month since you returned home. Your hair has grown to your shoulders, and you’re so excited to see them again. Wooyoung was hesitant when you mentioned bringing San. He thought you might try to kill him since you didn’t succeed in your time as Wooyoung. 

     But you just want to see him again. 

     You’ve been texting and calling every day since you left, but a long-distance relationship is so frustrating. And you’re hiding it from Wooyoung nonetheless. Maybe one day you’ll tell him, but you don’t want him to freak out about it. 

     When the front door opens, you shoot to your feet. Wooyoung strides inside and gives you a big hug, but you don’t even bother with him, moving past him to greet the important guests. Yeosang is smiling brightly, handing you a little gift, and San… San is as dangerously perfect as you remember. 

     You bow politely. As your head lowers, you let a blush spread across your cheeks. Is it wrong… in front of everyone… that you want to take him away and feel him again? You’ve been talking for a month, but you haven’t been able to have a deep connection. The temptation to take him away right now is so strong. 

     “Nice to meet you, Y/n,” he says.

     “Yeah,” you mumble. “I’ll… show you around.” You turn to Wooyoung and Yeosang quickly. “‘Cause you guys have been here.”

     You start walking before anyone can even say anything. San follows, and, as soon as you enter your bathroom, you pin him against the wall and melt against him as his arms wrap around your waist. Your lips meet hard and fast. 

     “I missed you so much,” you whisper, hardly any sound at all as your lips are too busy memorizing the feel of his. You cup his face in your hands as you pull him closer to your movement. “San…” you sigh.

     You both freeze when a figure walks into view and stops beside you. You both glance over, eyes wide in shock as Yeosang’s horrified expression meets you. 

     “You- We- S-” He’s looking from you to him, covering his mouth, speechless. 

     “What’s wrong?” Wooyoung calls out. “Are they fighting?!” Wooyoung runs down the hall, but you push away from San immediately, standing beside the sink with a composed expression masking your panic. 

     Yeosang is still looking from you to San, unsure of what to do, but a single twitch of your head tells him not to say a word. 

     “Young-ah, that’s not nice,” San jokes. “Why would we be fighting?” 

     He eyes you skeptically. 

     “Did she threaten you?”

     “Ya,” you grumble. “I was just showing him the rooms. I wouldn’t pick a fight with someone I just met.”

     “Uh huh,” he mumbles before turning to go back to the living room. 

     “Since when are you guys…” Yeosang mumbles. “I mean, you’ve never met.”

     “We’ll tell you everything,” you sigh. “But later. We don’t want Wooyoung to know. He’d go crazy.”

     Yeosang looks conflicted. You know he can’t lie. You know he can’t keep a secret. Especially from Wooyoung, who presters him until he tells him everything he knows. But you’re really counting on him. Wooyoung definitely can not know. 

     “I’ll buy you chicken,” you offer, and he’s immediately made up his mind. 

     You return to your brother, the other two going to the kitchen to prepare the food they brought for lunch. Wooyoung looks lost in thought when you sit next to him on the couch. 

     “What’s wrong, Youngie?” you ask, looking toward the kitchen cautiously.

     He sighs. “Actually, Y/n, I didn’t just come here to visit.” He bites his lip. “I sort of got into some trouble… again…”

     You look at him in disbelief. “Again? What happened this time?” 

     “Well… that lady from Paris… the one that got me into this mess. I didn’t want to tell the company. Like, we won the case. I’m not in that cult anymore.” He lowers his voice. “But I really wanted to settle it quickly, so I went to visit her personally.” Your jaw drops just a bit. “And she gave me a contract that would settle everything. I didn’t…” 

     “Fuck, Wooyoung,” you laugh in disbelief. 

     “She tricked me!” he argues. “She’s a master manipulator!”

     “So what now? Did you sell your soul to the devil? Did you… I don’t know… become her slave or something?”

     “Marriage.”

     “No fucking way,” you scoff. “What didn’t you read to sign a fucking marriage contract? Are you actually slow?”

     “I know, I fucked up,” he whispers. “But please help me out one more time. I… I’ll figure it out.” 

     “Does-”

     “Young-ah, I thought we got two orders of the spicy chicken,” San mumbles as he walks into the living room. Your conversation stops with a long sigh from your lips. 

     “I’ll do it,” you tell your brother, reaching for the chicken box in San’s hands. “It’s fine. We can share.” 

     It’s not like you don’t have your own reasons anyway. 

taglist ~

@channiesbum @magisshawp @altijdanouk @m4n4-s4m4 @naiyaaa-post @blue-jayujelly @staytinyy1221 @liveloveseonghwa @lets-candice @ipadkidsworld @atzz8 @shylia @screamingforgrace @skteezcursed @hyunminism @a-tiny-thing @stillaloserinaction @rienneloves @se-onghwa @wooahaeruby @korriganig @ateez-atiny380 @lesyeuxdeanna @justanotherblkgirl @pearltinyy @jeongyunme @cassagathariver @deermars @rosalidelacroix1986 @mintyymatcha @leeknow-minho2 @seungminscheekies @futuresoffantasies @beabatiny @hiddeninsightsstuff @bitejoongie @steviesbergthuis @mangomuncher1 @shikigamihwa @jiamoon3525 @choizlover @emilysecresy @il0vet0es @innocygnet @bignoselover1 @mermaidfett @babygir1446 @strawberryax0lotl @larimaldo765 @viiiii1111

[hyunjuenthusiast]

HEYAA

can i request a nsfw fic with hyun-ju x fem!reader where they have pent up hate with eachother and they hatefuck? and PLEAS PLEASE dom!hyun-ju!!

THANK YOU🫶🫶

I love this request! Although who tf could hate Hyun-ju?! Certainly not me. She's my wife! But I shall do my best✋🏻😌 this is longer than what was probably wanted but I was BORED.

NOT SO HATEFULL AFFECTION

Summary: The request listed above.

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, jealousy, enemies to lovers ... mentions of death, kind of slow burn.

Not an adult? Don't read.🔞

You watched as player 120 pressed the O, therefore voting to stay. She even has the audacity to look at Young-Mi as she walked to the blue side.

You caught her looking at you, and you gave her the meanest glare you could muster, making her look down a bit. Young-Mi stepped closer to you, looking up at you with those sad eyes before begging the players to let her go home, making you all the more upset at Hyun-ju.

When you and Young-Mi walked back to Ms. Geum-Ja and Yong-Sik's bunks, you glared scoffed as you saw Hyun-ju already sitting there. What a bitch, sitting with the people she betrayed.

You sat in front of her, with your back facing her. Young-Mi sat next to you, her eyes downcast to the floor. You almost cried at the sight, gently reaching over and holding her hand. "Everything will be okay, Young-Mi. I promise." You say to her softly, making her nod tearfully.

Hyun-ju obviously heard you because you can see her look away in shame from the corner of your eyes.

When Ms. Geum-Ja and her son return, the older woman asks Hyun-ju why. Why she would vote to stay and watch more people die.

You notice some of Young-Mi's tension eases at Hyun-ju's explanation. Telling Hyun-ju that she was beautiful, she even began calling her Unnie again. But not you. You couldn't shake the betrayal, even though you knew deep down, Hyun-ju wasn't being selfish. She wanted to be comfortable in her own skin.

So why did her betrayal hurt so much?

You could feel her gaze on your back, but you didn't acknowledge it, or her, in anyway.

The time for lights out came, and you lay on your uncomfortable bed. You can't get her explanation out of your head. You felt bad for being upset, but at the same time, fuck her, you know?

You practically jump out of your skin as you hear a soft voice from behind you.

"Y/n?" Hyun-ju says, making you tense. No. You weren't talking to her. You ignore her, hoping she'll think you're asleep. You hear her shuffle closer before you feel your bed dip. She's sitting by your legs.

She fiddles with her hands, like she usually does when she's nervous. "I-I know you're awake, Y/n, and I know you don't want to talk to me. I understand." She sniffles, making you slightly role your eyes. Crying wasn't going to make you forgive her.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers. "I knew I made a mistake the second I saw you and Young-Mi." She says. "I promise that in the next vote, I'll vote to leave." She says, hoping to make things right.

You turn your body, finally looking at her, your eyes cold. "In the next vote? What if you're dead by then? Huh? What if I or Young-Mi are dead by then? Or Ms. Geum-Ja or Yong-Sik? Christ, even Jun-Hee! She's fucking pregnant! Does surgery really mean more to you than our lives?" You ask her, giving her a tearful glare.

"You don't understand." She says softly, giving you pleading eyes. "You're right. I don't. I'll never understand how someone could be so cruel."

"Y/n please, I-I" you inturupt her. "Go fuck yourself, Hyun-ju." Turning back around, your back facing her once more.

You hear her sniffle as she walks away.

You all head to the next game, the others acting as if nothing happened. You listen as she apologizes to Young-Mi on the staircase, feeling a little hurt that the younger girl forgives her so easily.

You stand far away from her as Mingle begins. Even as she says that your group should stick together.

"SIX"

The voice says, making everyone scramble to find a group. Your group only had five until Hyun-ju grabbed the crazy witch lady, making six.

Running into a yellow room, you pant, a little put of shape. But everyone is safe. As you lean your body down, your hands gripping your knees, you feel a gentle hand rubbing your back soothingly.

Looking up, you see it's Hyun-ju. You quickly move away.

You step back as the shamen lady comes towards you.

"I know what festers in your lustful heart. There's no out running it. I suspect you'll give in any time now." She says, her eyes naturally crazy.

You look at her. "The fuck." You say, making Yong-Sik laugh, in return his mom hits his arm.

The door unlocks, and round 2 starts, then round 3, then round 4.

"EIGHT"

The voice shouts. You, Young-Mi, Yong-Sik, Ms. Geum-Ja, Hyun-ju, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho, and Gyeong-Seok all bolt to another yellow colored door, but there was already a group of people in there, you all look over when Hyun-ju shouts that she found an available room.

Running as fast as you all can to the green room, you let out a yelp as another player knocks you down. You quickly get up, looking around for your group, scared as the timer is at 7 seconds.

"Y/n!" You hear Hyun-ju yell, and you watch in horror as she races towards you, leaving behind everyone in the green room, when Gi-Hun and Young-il run into the room, making Eight, Hyun-ju quickly drags you to another one, one wich thankfully needed two other players, as soon as you both got it, the timer ran out.

She saved you. But at what cost. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" you scream at her, not caring about the other players in the room. "THEY WOULD HAVE DIED! YOU SELFISH FUCK!" You yell, hitting her chest. She allows it. Maybe if you let out some of that pent-up anger, you would feel better.

"I saved you. You wanted me to just leave you behind?" She asks, clearly irritated. "YES! Everyone would have died, Hyun-ju! EVERYONE."

"They didn't. And you're still breathing. That's all that matters." She says, making you falter. She goes to hold your hand, but you pull it back.

After the doors unlock, you quickly hug Young-Mi, apologizing to everyone for almost causing them to lose.

The final round begins.

"TWO"

The voice says, you look to Young-Mi, but she's already being dragged away by Gyeong-seok. You let out a sound of surprise as Hyun-ju picks you up, racing to an empty room.

She holds the door, making sure no other players get in. You're slightly shaken. The stress finally getting to you. You hear the door lock and Hyun-ju catches her breath. "Are you okay?" She asks softly, this time you nod, no hostility.

You look at her tearfully. "T-Thank you" she just gives you a reassuring smile.

Back at the bunks, you're zoned out, not really paying attention to what Ms. Geum-Ja is saying. You slightly jump as you feel someone touch your shoulder, looking up, it's Yong-Sik. "You gonna eat that?" He asks, eyeing your kimbop.

Thankful for the laugh, you hand it to him. You don't have an appetite anyway.

Hyun-ju gives you a disapproving look, walking over and sitting down next to you. She holds up her food, offering you some, you just shake your head, making her scoff.

"Stop being so stubborn, take it." She says. You just shake your head once more. "M'not hungry." You whisper, your voice a bit horse.

The guards make an announcement that it's time to use the bathroom, the woman go first. You walk behind Hyun-ju.

Some women give her strange looks, but Ms. Geum-Ja is quick to shut that shit down. You don't even use the bathroom, only sitting and crying silently. Letting out some of the fear and anger you have.

Not realizing that almost everybody was gone. Almost everybody. Hyun-ju gently knocks on the stall door. "Y/n, are you okay?"

You quickly wipe your tears. "I'm fine," you lie. You can hear her sigh. "Are you decent?" She asks, making your eyebrows furrow. "Umm yes?"

You're baffled at how easily she gets the door open. You're about to question her before she kneels in front of you.

You tense as she reaches up and caresses your cheek, wiping away all the tears you missed. "It's okay, sweet girl." She whispers, which causes more tears to form in your eyes.

Your lip quivers. "D-Do you promise?" You ask, your voice trembling. She gives you a questioning look. "Do I promise what, sweetness?"

You sniffle. "Do you promise you'll vote to leave this time?" She visibly melt. "I promise, Y/n."

"I'm still angry with you." You say, a small pout on your lips, making her smile softly.

"Let me make it up to you?" She asks, making you cock your head.

"How are you going to do th-" She inturupts you, pressing her lips gently to yours. You pull away with a gasp as you feel her tongue trace your bottom lip. "What are you doing?!" You whisper.

"I'm making it up to you. Let me make you feel good, sweet girl. You deserve it." You back away as she tries to kiss you again."You can't just expect me to forgi-" She kisses you again. This time, her tongue makes its way into your mouth.

You pant as she kisses her way down your neck, her hands reaching to the bottom of your shirt marked 005. "Can I take this off, Sweetness? Hmm? We don't have much time." She says, her voice lustful. You nod quickly.

Your shirt is discarded on the floor, and she takes in the sight of your breasts in your dark purple bra. She waists not time ripping it off, literally. Making you gasp! "Hyun-ju! I can't get another one!" She only chuckles. "Good, that means I'll get to enjoy the view until we get out of here."

Your head rolls back as she suckles one of your nipples, only to wince as she bites gently. "Don't look away, pretty girl, if you look away I'll stop." She says firmly.

You huff, but keep your eyes trained on her. "I hate you and your porcelain cap teeth," you mumble as she bites down again.

"Be nice to me, baby. Or I'll treat you like the brat you are." She says making you roll your eyes in return. She doesn't like that.

"Stand up, put your hands in the seat, and bend over," She says, standing up herself. "Ew no, that's unsanitary-" She pulls you up, putting you in the position she wants. "Count" She says.

"W-what?" You ask, but yelp as she suddenly spanks your ass. "Ow! What the f-"

"I said count." She growls.

....."one"

When she reaches 10 you almost start crying, she's fucking strong.

"Are you going to be a good girl? Or do you want some more?" She asks, rubbing the cheek she just spanked. "I-Ill be a good girl!" You say quickly. You can't even imagine how much more it would've hurt if she had pulled your pants down.

As a reward, she slowly reaches her hand to the front of your pants. "Is this okay?" She whispers, making you nod. Her hand slowly goes past the barrier of your panties.

"You're so wet." She chuckles. "The little brat is a masochist." You blush, and gasp as you feel her fingers start to rub circles on your clit, but whine when she stops.

She only turns you around, guiding your back against the stall wall and putting her hand right back into your panties.

God, she's good with her fingers....but you won't feed her ego by telling her that. You let out a small moan, closing your eyes, relishing in the pleasure.

She quickly stops again. "What did I say about looking away?" She asks, her voice firm.

You whine, quickly opening your eyes. "I-Im sorry!" She gives you a glare.

"You will be." She says as she pulls down her pants, revealing her cock. Your eyes widen. How the actual fuck was THAT supposed to fit inside you.

"Take off your pants, and pull down your panties. Now." She commands and you do.

You're a little shy when pulling down your panties and slow, so she yanks them down. Putting them in her pocket. "These are mine now." She says darkly.

She waists no time, slapping her thick cock against your clit. "F-Fuck, please!" You say, giving her a pleading look.

She pushes only the tip in before taking it back out, repeating that until you're practically crying. "Please!" She chuckles. "You want my cock, don't you baby?" She asks, leaning down to nibble at your neck. "Yes y-yes please Hyun-ju!" You beg.

Your breath is knocked out of your lungs as she gives one thrust forward, bottoming out in one stroke. Fuck she was big. You felt so full.

"What's the matter, sweetness? Hmm?" She mocks as she pulls alost all the way out, slamming back in. "FUCK!" You scream, already knowing she's going to bruise your cervix.

"You're such a slut. Letting an older woman fuck you." She says, moaning into your ear. You cling to her, thinking it wasn't fair that you were the only naked one.

You go to beg, but only whimpers escape your lips. "Oh poor baby, I've already fucked you dumb. Hmm?" She mocks, reaching down to rub your clit.

"You've been such a good little slut for me, go ahead...show me how much you love my cock. Cum for me." She says, her voice pure sex. "F-Fuck H-Hyun-ju!" You say as you get closer and closer.

"Cum for me Y/n. Now." She says as her thrusts start to get sloppy. When she leans down, taking your nipple into her mouth once more, you let go. Screaming in ecstacy as you clench around her twitching cock.

"Fuck yeah baby, just like that" She says, finding her own release inside you.

You both pant as you calm down. She reaches for the toilet paper, gently cleaning you up, helping you pull your pants back up, and putting your shirt back on.

"W-Wait my underwear!" You say, making her smirk. "I told you...those are mine now."

I got this request a HOT minute ago, but I hope this delivers 🙏🏻😭 I tried to make it as hateful as I could ✋🏻💀

[zombaebitez]

ik u j posted it but alr havin withdrawals can we get more relationship hcs w abby??

Abby Relationship Hcs

abby anderson x fem reader

synopsis: modern day abby relationship headcanons, just rambles oopsie.

zom’s note: withdrawals is so silly, i love it. hope my writing is up to par, enjoy! 🌸

word count: abt 1.1k

warnings: use of petnames (love, princess, etc). nsfw content (own section after sfw! don’t like it? just don’t read that section), mentions strapping (r!receiving), teasing, manhandling, foreplay.

SFW HCS <3

ꕥ Abby always has a hand or arm around you, says it’s for safety, to keep you near her; but you know deep down she’s just a touchy girl, and you can’t complain, you love it.

⤍ “Love walk on this side,” and before you can even move she’s alreading pulling you to where she wants you to go, wrapping a strong arm around your waist.

ꕥ On the subject of touch, this girl will literally carry you around (on her back, bridal style, etc) when you ask her to (or when you don’t), in the house, in public, she doesn’t care one bit. You are her pretty princess, and she loves being at your beck and call.

ꕥ She takes pride in her physique, she has a set workout routine, and is constantly in a protein kick. She loves bringing you to the gym with her, just so she can catch you stealing glances at her while you’re doing your own thing.

ꕥ Her casual wear? She is a chronic cargos, sweats, or jeans wearer, though she will switch it up with shorts sometimes. She’ll wear some sort of tank, compression/fitted top (to show off muscle), hoodies, or basic tee, with a sports bra underneath, maybe a beanie or snapback depending on how hot it is. Very minimal jewelry and accessories, and has an obsession with muted colors, and black.

ꕥ Speaking of jewelry, she’ll always wear your initial or name on her somewhere, and vice versa. Her favorite would be a simple gold necklace/chain which has your initial that you got her, it also has a matching gold link bracelet that she sometimes wears too.

ꕥ She loves when you offer to braid her hair for the day, now she just volunteers you to do it with a random excuse, “I dunno princess, you just do it better!” She’ll have the brush, and hair ties ready once you finish your morning routine.

ꕥ Morning Routines? She usually wakes up when you do, or some time before. But once you wake up, she immediately follows you to watch you get ready for the day. It’s endearing, kind of like a giant puppy.

ꕥ She enjoys pet names surprisingly, and will call you all sorts of names (princess, love, sweetheart, etc). She never got to show her lovey dovey side before you, so she just can’t help it.

ꕥ Hates when you get upset, “Princess, cmon talk to me… what happened?” Always running a soothing hand down your back, she just wants to be there for you.

ꕥ She’s not as stoic as people may think when it comes to you, she’s just a girl who loves her princess to death; therefore, she has to show it… like all the time, sue her (you’re just as bad).

ꕥ A random girl hits on her? She gives the girl a judgy once over… maybe twice? hell THREE times, and says something like “I have a girlfriend, you’re gonna get us both in trouble…”, “Uhm I’m taken.”, “My girlfriend won’t like this.” Before she starts aimlessly looking around for where the hell you went to, because the interaction is now a little awkward.

ꕥ She has natural sass, it’s not even on purpose, she is just a little snippy. Don’t even dare say something that will earn you a side eye, because she’ll hand them out to you too, again she can’t help it.

⤍ “Babe, you know you could totally pull off being a hey mamas”, now you were clearly joking, giving her a ridiculous ass grin as she looked up from her phone to hit you with a judgmental stare. “Excuse me?” you couldn’t help but laugh your ass off, as she just sat there confused, “Princess don’t start with me”, she mumbled with a slight eye roll, reaching over to gently slap your thigh.

ꕥ Oh god and the coin collection, she indeed has one of those collection binders, and keeps it organized/labeled. She gets so excited whenever you gift her a new one, and always shows you when she finished a sheet in the binder.

ꕥ She most definitely loves to shop with you, and go on errands. Something about being all domestic and on top of business, watching you mark off things you two need for the house, watching you get all happy when you finally get to go shopping, and being productive makes her feel good. (She wants to put a ring on that finger real bad, real bad).

⤍ Makes you carry her wallet, and phone when y’all are out because she feels they are safer with you, (her wallet fell out her pocket once and she freaked the hell out). She keeps her keys on a carabiner with a bunch of random charms or a lanyard so she can’t misplace them.

NSFW HCS !!

ꕥ Abby prefers to top, and dom. But she’ll let you occasionally top if you really asked nicely or she’s having a hard day. There’s just something about getting you all fucked out that she can’t help, she needs to have you under her.

ꕥ She’s a total strap lover, she’ll fuck you in any postion she can. Loves how she can just grab onto you and make you forget how to form a thought with deep or shallow thrusts. Don’t even try to wiggle or push her away, she’ll just get a little frustrated with you, and pin you exactly how she wants you like it isn’t any effort for her (it’s not).

ꕥ She likes to tease you with just the tip. Watching you think you’re about to get what you want, what you need; seeing that frustrated pout go slack, with a quiet moan. Just for you to whine, when she pulls back just as fast as she came. It’s really not fair.

ꕥ Yes, she likes to manhandle you, she doesn’t have all those muscles for nothing. She’ll use them to her advantage every time, and her stamina goes in-fucking-sane. She’ll fuck you till you can’t even moan anymore, all dazed out and whiny for her, just trembling because of how overwhelmed she can make you feel.

ꕥ Sometimes she forgets her own strength, digging her fingers into the plush of your thighs or ass, biting and sucking a little too hard on certain parts of your body, slapping your ass a little too hard. You’ll wake up with a bunch of bruises and marks the next day, whining about how sore you feel, but she lowkey gets off on that shit.

ꕥ Whenever she does let you top her, she is usually guiding you how she wants you. Just because she’s on the bottom doesn’t mean shit, she still makes the rules, and you just want to take care of her like she does for you.

ꕥ Foreplay god! She loves being a tease to you, getting you all frustrated, gets off to the fact she can get you needy from mere touches and words. Plus what's the use in rushing, she’s gonna take her sweet time with you.

[carlosainzgf]

REVENGE

thanos x fem!reader (smut)

warnings: kind of noncon so read at your own risk

you were minding your own business, sitting at your bunk, eating the shitty meal you were given when you heard some yelling.

you turned your head to where the noises were coming from only to see your brother myung gi, who you didn’t even know was here until now, getting beaten up. instinctively, you storm over to stop them.

"not thinking of interfering, are you?"

the purple haired man asked as he tilted his head, his eyes widened sadistically.

you threw a punch in his face without even considering for a second, landing right on his nose, making him loose his balance and stumble back.

in an instant, he lunged at you. he gritted his teeth as blood ran down his nose, his eyes filled with a deadly rage. grabbing you by the collar and pinning you to the wall. "you think you can just hit me like that? huh!? you've got a lot of guts for someone so small." he spat, eyes narrowed as he glared at you.

some other players had turned their attention to the sight of the commotion, some had ceased their betting and others watched with intrigue and anticipation as they witnessed what would unfold.

player 001 stepped in, putting a swift end to the conflict before thanos could hurt you. he took it upon himself to discipline thanos and his friend by delivering a thorough beating, leaving both of them bruised and battered.

thanos stayed put on the ground, coughing and panting from exhaustion, his nose still stinging from your punch and the beating he just received.

“you’re gonna pay for this, you bitch!” he yelled after you between coughs when you and your brother headed to the bathroom to clean up.

he still had enough spunk left in him to send a threat your way even after his beating.

he was determined to get revenge.

after cleaning the blood of your brothers face and a small skirmish between the two of you for joining this game you heard that lights were out in 5 minutes so you head back to the dorm.

you could feel thanos’ eyes on you as you got ready for bed.

as the minutes ticked by, the lights slowly dimmed, signaling that it could only mean one thing - it was time to sleep. the dorm fell quiet, dimly lit by the faint glow of the piggy bank.

players were trying to find some level of rest, laying down on their beds with blankets or just simply sitting on their beds.

thanos' eyes stayed on you, watching you as you got into bed, his resentment still burning bright. he was waiting for a moment to catch you off guard and get his revenge.

after laying down with your eyes open, which felt like hours, you decided to go to the bathroom. to wash your face or just to get out of the dorm full of people to get your mind together. you didn’t really know.

you looked over to your brother to see him sound asleep before heading to the door. after convincing the guard you headed to the bathroom, not realizing thanos who left the dorm right after you.

you only took notice of him when the door to the ladies bathroom was kicked open. you, startled, look back to see who it is.

fuck.

“i told you you’d pay for what you did. now…how should i make you pay?” he talked like he was talking to himself.

“i could kill you. easily. but…it would be a shame if something happened to such a beautiful girl like you.”

your words were caught at your throat, not daring to come out.

“maybe i should teach you a lesson, huh?”

that’s how you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping tightly at the flesh of your ass as he made you move on his dick, like a little sex toy. his own little fleshlight.

you didn’t know if you hated him for fucking you or yourself for liking it.

he held you up on the air as he thrusted himself into you like you were light as a feather. hands repeatedly landing on your ass, leaving big red hand marks on the surface, making you moan and yelp at the same time.

“fuck! you like this don’t you? you filthy little slut.”

you held onto his shoulders as his pace got faster and he fucked you harder. a knot growing in you, making you disgusted at yourself for liking this but too cock drunk out to care. your eyes closed, too lost in pleasure.

his hand moved from your ass to your stretched out pussy. you didn’t notice it until he pinched your clit, hard, making your eyes shot open with a little scream.

“you look at me when i fuck you.” he ordered. you could only nod.

“tell me who makes you feel this good, bitch. tell me!”

“you! you a-are thanos! fuck-fucking me so good!” you could barely form a sentence at your state.

“yeah i am! come on my cock, baby. make a big fucking mess.” that’s all it took. you fell apart. your walls spasming around him, brain foggy, nails digging at his back, head thrown back, yells and moans spilling from your lips as you came undone.

just when you were about to come down from your high thanos hit your sensitive and twitching clit repeatedly. the pain and pleasure of the act, and how sensitive your body was right after cumming you couldn’t stop yourself from gushing around his dick. your juices covered his lower stomach, his thighs, your thighs as well, and his dick.

that’s when he lost it. he came, hard, when he felt the warm wetness on himself. he held your face, harshly, making you look at him.

“if you even try to do anything to me ever again…you pussy won’t be the only thing i ruin.”

then he kissed you so sweetly. almost sweet enough to make you forget that he threatened to kill you and then fucked you dumb.

[tc-doherty]

I have been known to talk about this before but ooooh it really grinds my gears

I get that people explore all kinds of things, and different things can matter in different ways to people and that is all fine! But I hate it so much personally. For a lot of history (mostly talking about Europe here, but a lot of fantasy is 'based' on Ideas About Europe), it wasn't built into the infrastructure to Be Queer. It wasn't necessarily an identity, so much as a set of behaviors people engaged in. But at the end of the day, most people still needed to go get married and have children so they could actually survive.

I'm not saying nobody engaged in queer behavior, they absolutely did! A lot! And for a lot of history it wasn't even an issue. In the eyes of the church, sure it was a sin, but so were SO many other things like, you know, all premarital or extramarital sex in general. And having sex for reasons other than procreation.

Very rarely was there any aspect of identity or community similar to what we have nowadays. And there was also a very different understanding of gender and sex and behavior, which is all super fascinating to explore and gives you lots of ways to deal with this in fiction!

In some places, queer behavior was expected, but to be grown out of, or only in certain circumstances. In many places it wasn't an issue as long as you still did what you needed to do for your family (i.e., getting married and having kids). I've even seen this attitude still reflected in modern society in some places - listening to an interview with a lesbian woman in China whose family members basically told her "get married, have kids, get divorced, and then you can do what you want to do, no one will care at that point"

If you go look up the laws of Hammurabi* there four specific rulings about male/male sexual conduct that bring up some really interesting things about the society. About who owes who what based on what role they play, and what it might say about them, and anyway if you were upper-class and also the bottom and then decided you didn't like it, you could literally sue someone for fucking you as like......deformation of character, basically? Hilarious! Queer history is great and fascinating! There's so many ways to approach it!

People can do whatever they want, but queer as an identity (neutral) just doesn't really show up in my work. It doesn't seem right to me that my characters would talk about themselves like that, or that their societies would be built like that.

And it just doesn't do anything for me personally to have modern queer frameworks put into non-modern settings.

*It was a while ago that I was doing this research, so it is possible that it wasn't Hammurabi specifically but a similar legal code from the same period. But, you know.

he would not fucking say that but it’s he would not fucking talk about his queer identity like he was reading out of a college campus lgbt center brochure

[marscardigan]

kitchen encounter

ellie williams x reader

summary: you are alone with joel for the first time since you started dating ellie.

word count: 5.4k

You woke up next to your girlfriend’s sleepy figure. Her arm gently gripped around your waist and your legs intertwined with hers. Your lips curved at the sight in front of you. Ellie’s head was buried inside the crook of your neck. You wanted to stay here forever, but you needed to wake up. You were hungry, so you left her warm inside the sheets, and started your way to the kitchen. There you made some fried eggs and bacon, making two plates for when Ellie woke up. A sound of a door opening alarmed you, thinking you woke your girlfriend. What you didn’t think it to be was Joel Miller in his pajamas, seeming not happy to see you.

You both just stared each other, without saying a word. You wanted to jump off of the window or ran back to the bedroom, but you stayed still, eyes wide open.

"What the hell are you doin’ in my kitchen"

"Good morning, uh, sir" You wanted to slap yourself so bad. Ellie would be laughing hard at your reaction. "Stayed the night with Els-Ellie, sir"

"Please, don’t call me sir again" He sighed, ignoring your figure to grab a mug.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem to mind your presence there, but you felt out of place. You swore Joel would be on patrol or something. He ignored you, not making any conversation, and once he finished making his coffee, he disappeared again, before closing his dorm door, he looked back at you.

Almost tripping with the stairs, you ran to hide back to Ellie’s bedroom, finding her awake. You closed the door and hid inside her bed. "Ohmygod I’m gonna die"

She turned to look at you, smiling, but her voice seemed concerned. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Joel hates me" You pouted. "He just met me and already despises me"

Ellie blinked, her messy hair falling into her eyes as she tried to suppress a laugh. "Wait, what? What did he even say to you?"

You groaned, burying your face into her pillow. "He asked me what I was doing in his kitchen. And I panicked and called him 'sir.' Sir, Ellie. He told me not to call him that."

That was enough to make Ellie burst into laughter, her body shaking against yours as she tried to catch her breath. "Bullshit, you called him sir? Like, what are you? A soldier reporting for duty?"

"This isn’t funny!" you whined, smacking her arm lightly. "He looked like he was ready to toss me out. And then he just ignored me!"

Ellie propped herself up on her elbow, smirking down at you. "Relax, he’s like that with everyone. It’s just his vibe. Grumpy old man who secretly doesn’t know how to deal with people being nice to him. Trust me, if he really hated you, he wouldn’t have let you get out of that kitchen alive."

You frowned. "Whoa, that’s not exactly comforting, Els."

She snorted and leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Okay, fine. Let me handle it. I’ll talk to him later and smooth things over. He’ll come around eventually. Just... maybe avoid calling him 'sir' next time."

You sighed, finally letting yourself relax a bit. "Do you think he’ll ever actually like me?"

Ellie rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful hum. "I mean, it’s Joel. Liking people isn’t exactly his thing. But if it makes you feel better, he didn’t scare you off, and that’s a win f'me. You survived the Joel Miller experience."

Later in the day, Ellie had convinced you to join her and Joel for lunch. You’d hesitated—your kitchen encounter was already burned into your memory, and you weren’t eager to relive the awkwardness—but Ellie insisted.

"Trust me," she said, lacing her fingers through yours. "He’s not as scary as you think."

Now, sitting across from Joel at the dining table, you weren’t so sure. He was quiet, watching you with those piercing eyes of his, as Ellie rambled on about patrol routes and whatever random thoughts popped into her head. You nodded and laughed in the right places, but every time you glanced at Joel, you felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Finally, Joel set his fork down, his gaze locking onto you. "So," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "You and Ellie, huh?"

Ellie groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Joel—"

"What?" he said, feigning innocence. "Just makin’ conversation."

You cleared your throat, your hands suddenly sweaty. "Uh, yeah. Me and Ellie."

Joel’s eyes narrowed just slightly, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "You seem nice enough," he said, his tone casual. "But just so we’re clear, if you ever hurt her…" He picked up his steak knife, twirling it lazily between his fingers. "…they won’t find the body."

Your eyes widened, and you let out a nervous laugh, unsure if he was joking or not. Ellie, however, looked mortified.

"Jesus, Joel!" she snapped, glaring at him. "Could you not threaten my girlfriend?"

Joel shrugged, unfazed. "Just makin’ sure we understand each other."

You swallowed hard but managed a shaky smile. "Crystal clear, sir—uh, Joel. I’ll never hurt her."

"Good." He nodded, satisfied, before returning to his meal like he hadn’t just casually threatened your life.

From across the table, Ellie sent you an apologetic smile. You didn't smile back, still shivering.

After, when the two of you were in her bed, Ellie kissed your anxiety away. "Ignore him," she whispered. "He was just… being Joel."

"I’m fine," you whispered back, now calmer.

Ellie leaned closer, "For what it’s worth, I think he likes you. If he didn’t, he’d be way worse."

"Worse?" you muttered under your breath, "Good to know."

[cuteandhughesy]

I’m Talking Nonsense | Mikko Rantanen

summary: everyone in the avalanche social media room knows that getting mikko rantanen to participate in content was a lost cause—that is until you showed up.

4.3k

warnings: flirting | lil bit of pining | mature themes | lil hot and heavy kissing | allusions to sex but no actual smut | read at your own discretion

a/n: okay…so obviously I started writing this before the trade—because nobody in their right mind was expecting mikko to get traded. but I digress, anyways! I originally wanted to post this on valentine’s day but in this moment of sadness, I knew all the mikko girls (myself included) needed this pick me up ❤️ to all you liking my old mikko fic—I see yall and we got this.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

mikko rantanen didn't hate social media — actually, no he did hate it. the finnish native always knew it to be invasive and impersonal, and he'd rather not have to look at fake happy, posed pictures and videos that make his life feel less than. and that's coming for a guy living as a professional athlete.

so when tiktok started gaining more traction and other nhl teams were making accounts for their respective teams—mikko was dreading it. he thought there was a level of privacy that should be respected, and having a camera shoved in your face is totally breaching boundaries. the thought of the avalanche making an account was just not something he wanted.

after a shitty practice—hell even a good practice—the last thing he wanted was to be asked if he thought he could land a plane, or if he believes in aliens...mikko just wanted to go home.

and mikko understands that the social admin was simply doing their jobs, but he couldn't help but fill with irritation anytime they'd approach him with the phone and mini-microphone and/or question cup. it was the quickest way to piss him off.

it didn't help that the avalanche fans were always in the comments asking about his noticeable absence. they wanted to see more of their assistant captain outside of gruelling post-game interviews and game highlights—they wanted the real and fun side of mikko they very rarely had the chance of seeing.

but that didn't change mikko's opinion of social media—he'd avoid the admin team at any costs, especially when he saw that stupid tiktok phone and various props he knew he'd hate to use.

that is, until you showed up.

the first time mikko saw you—standing behind the usual admin suspects with a nervous gaze and fiddling hands—he didn't think much of it. sure, you were pretty, but mikko thinks a lot of girls are pretty.

but then as the months past and your surprisingly warm and bubbly personality began peeking through your hard exterior shell, mikko begin feeling intrigued. you are always smiling, even if someone is giving you a hard time—when he is giving you a hard time—and you're constantly trying to bond with the players. you remember who these athletes are at their core—human, which a lot of people in your job description seem to forget.

the team quickly grew fond of you, and when they saw it was you in the hallway with a cup of questions, or in their locker room with that stupid tiny microphone—the energy would shift. that's just how you are though—vibrant and welcoming, and the guys feed off that energy and turn into a fun group of giddy boys.

even nathan mackinnon, who was almost as turned off by social media as mikko, enjoyed your company, doing silly things for tiktok's he'd never even dreamed of.

it had mikko's own exterior beginning to crack. before he'd be more apprehensive to the idea of participating in social media trends he had no clue about, but you and your grin had him changing.

—

lina, your co-worker looks at you over the top of her laptop, analyzing your soft face as you work on your own computer—editing a tiktok that needed to go up today. you're left with very minimal time, as the avalanche practice finishes in 5 minutes. which means in 15 you both have to head down for some more content.

it's the third time in the past minute lina as looked at you—you can feel her eyes burning through the middle of your forehead. slowly, your eyes trial up and meet hers, a questioning pull to your furrowed eyebrows. "you okay?"

she huffs—not in annoyance or impatience, but rather curiosity. lina flicks her red hair over her shoulder, and then crosses her arms—her gaze never leaving yours. "i'm trying to figure out how you do it."

you're even more confused now. "do what?"

lina snorts like it's obvious. "you've been here five months, y/n. it's been five months of watching you work with the guys and more specifically, getting mikko to work with you."

your lips contort into a confused pout—any more confusion and your head will begin to pound. you're not sure what lina is trying to imply, because as far as you know all the guys on the avs are extremely good with you and have never given you a hard time—that's just how they are...right?

"mikko is great." you hum dismissively, your fingers resuming their place on your keyboard as you continue the code in your side bar to enable the audio change in the clip—attempting to remove ross' loud voice from the background so you can better hear cale's answer.

"that's the thing," lina starts, eyes full of amusement as she leans over the table. "he's really not."

you pause. "what?"

"before you showed up, mikko was always turning a blind eye to me and nick. if we even attempted to talk to him the way you do—well, it never ended how we wanted it to." her face contorts as if she's reliving it.

one of your brows raise in question. "did he like...sentence you to a guillotine or something?"

lina disapproves of your humorous tone, sending you daggers across the meeting room table. she shuts her laptop, resting her elbow atop the logo as she puts her chin in her palm. "ha ha."

satisfied with her pointed response, you get back to work. but, lina isn't done. "he hates this kind of stuff."

"no he doesn't," you retort quickly. "mikko seems happy when I have questions for him. in fact, yesterday he came over to me and asked for one—said something about how they 'make his day bright'" you mimic mikko's deep accent to the best of your abilities, but you sound more like a drowning troll rather than the 6"4 winger.

lina's eyes widen comically—she can't believe what's she's hearing. "anytime I even point the phone in his direction he scowls and walks away. so what are you doing to get him to cooperate?" she eyes you quizzically for a moment before a devious lightbulb goes off in her head, expression morphing into a playful, teasing one. "are you fucking him?"

you squeak, and your cheeks heat up to an undeniable level of embarrassment. "no!" and it's true—of course you're not sleeping with mikko.

she raises her hands in surrender, but her smile doesn't let up. "I wouldn't blame you if you were, y/n. he's hot—like stupid hot."

"okay," you huff, covering your burning cheeks with your hands. "maybe you should sleep with him then."

lina snorts. "trust me—if I could get near him I would."

"you know," you start, "I really don't think what you're saying is true. maybe mikko didn't like it in the past, but I think he's changed his option on the social media stuff."

she raises her brow—almost challengingly. "think so?"

"yup." you hum.

"let's test it, then." lina chimes. "today i'll go up to mikko first, and ill do exactly what you would do when approaching him. and when he sends me away—which he will—then you'll go up to him, and we'll see what happens."

it's tempting—mostly because you're certain there won't be a difference in the way mikko acts towards you then he does lina. sure, mikko isn't always the most sunshine and rainbows when it comes to his personality, but he's always been compliant with you.

so although he's broody and definitely not in love with the idea of having a camera in his face—you're sure he's not going to turn lina away.

"you're on."

it's not 5 minutes later you're both packing up your respective things, preparing to make your way down to the locker room where the guys are surly anticipating your and lina's arrival.

the room is bustling with people—half dressed hockey players and pressing reporters fill the locker room, which creates a slightly hectic environment—but you're used to it by now. so neither of you seem suspicious, you ask a few of the other avs players your selected questions for the day. questions you and lina had argued about for the entire morning—she thought most of them were stupid, you thought they were was hilarious.

plus, the reporters are still swarmed around mikko's stall—the finnish native standing in the middle with a deadpanned look on his face, barley listening to them as they ask the same repetitive questions as usual.

you and lina get some good content from ross colton and josh manson, both players giving you ridiculous and enthusiastic responses to the absurd questions you'd earlier shoved in the alumni silver cup.

lina's mischievous look is back as the sea of middle aged reporters move onto their next victim—cale makar—leaving mikko by his lonesome. "i'll be back." before you can react, she plucks the phone out of your hands, effortlessly making her way through the room until she's in front of mikko.

you strain your ears, but it's no use as the chatter in the locker room is too overpowering, and you're unable to hear lina or mikko. miles wood gives you an odd look—eyeing the way you stand ridged beside his stall, gnawing your thumb as you watch lina talk to the blonde winger—but you don’t notice.

it's only a moment before lina turns around, her grin even wider than it was before as she makes her way back towards you. "your turn." she chimes, thrusting the phone back in your palms.

"what happened?" you question.

lina raises one her brows, pushing you in the direction of mikko's stall. "he didn't want to answer anymore questions."

"okay," you draw. "so maybe I shouldn't go over there."

lina continues guiding you in his general direction. "no it's actually exactly why you should go over there."

you don't get to argue any further as you're suddenly right in front of mikko—almost too close, and if you take another step towards him you're thighs will bump his knees.

speaking of thighs—mikko's are on full display. the huge, muscle carved limbs spread wide as he manspreads in his stall. the expanse of smooth, hard skin making you feel flustered and suddenly intrigued. your eyes flicker upwards, finding the icy blue ones of mikko looking back at you.

you swallow, a heat rising to your cheeks. "hi, mikko."

"hi, y/n." he says your name playfully, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. "you okay?"

you nod too quickly and immediately curse yourself for acting so uncool. you've never been this nervous around any of the avs, especially not mikko, but lina's comments about his looks earlier are lingering in your mind—leaving you flustered.

because obviously you are aware mikko is hot, but now you can't help but be really aware of the fact. damn lina.

"yeah," you clear your throat, clutching the cellphone tightly in your hand. "I was actually just wondering if you'd answer a question for tiktok? for me? promise it'll be quick."

his eyes flicker over your warm, hopeful face, and after a beat he sighs gently, a quick nod following. "yeah I can do that for you."

you can't help the way your eyes widen at his agreement. mikko seems oblivious to your shocked state, removing his remaining elbow pad and tossing it towards the back of his messy stall.

you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, and even with the sweat lingering across his forehead and soaking his branded undershirt, mikko smells so good. he's always been enveloped in a cloud of clean laundry and something slightly woodsy, and even though you're extremely professional, it never fails to make you falter.

you clear your throat and your head. "really?"

mikko runs the damp towel previously hung around his neck through his messy curls, making the appearance of them even more fluffy and soft. his eyes twinkle with amusement, a matching half smile blossoming on his lips. "yeah, really. why do you sound shocked?"

you make a tiny noise of confusion in the back of your throat, shooting a glance to lina over your shoulder. she sends you a triumphant look, brow raised like she knew that she was right.

she is right.

you look back at mikko quickly, "I just thought..." you trail off, brows pulling tightly as you think about the excuse he gave to lina—you're so confused. you've never noticed before if mikko had a certain favouritism towards you over lina, or even nick. I mean, you never paid attention to anything like that—but now you feel like you should be more aware, because this doesn't make sense.

"you thought..?" mikko raises one eyebrow, waiting for the second half of your sentence.

"nothing." you blink quickly, adjusting the phone in your hand. "sorry, let's just get to it."

you're still in some sort of shock for the rest of the day—the pieces of the puzzle in your mind loose and turned upside down as you try and understand mikko's dismissal of lina, or better yet, his compliance with you.

it had you further trying to solve the mystery. does mikko just prefer you? does he like your voice over your co-workers? maybe you smell like his favourite desert? does he like you? does mikko want to fuck you?

you're not sure where to pinpoint the source, but you're also determined to find the answer. with some help for lina, and even a little input from nick, you conjure up a plan—which lina finds the upmost entertainment in.

but you mean nothing but business. for the next few weeks it's only you who works with mikko rantanen—it's you asking him questions and having him participate in stupid games. and without fail, every single time you ask him, mikko complies.

so you get crazier with it. whether it's a questions about my little pony—a show mikko has never even heard of—or having him lift you onto his shoulder while a sabrina carpenter song plays through the tiktok recording—he is participating without complaining.

every. single. time.

it has your good friends, but ever so annoying colleagues theorizing.

"maybe he's got a thing for girls with her hair colour? can't resist them." nick chimes, sipping some piping hot coffee from an avalanche branded mug.

you roll your eyes, pulling open the microwave to grab your shitty frozen meal.

lina's laugh echos through the staff room, "mhmm...or maybe her eye colour." she sends you a teasing look before slurping some saucy noddles up into her mouth.

before you can respond nick pipes up again, "he definitely wants in her pants."

you take a seat beside lina—across from your male coworker—and send them both a slightly amused, but deadpanned look. "are you guys done?"

despite your attitude towards them, you can't help but wonder if their theories are correct. sure, mikko seems sweet enough—towards you anyways—but with the way you're barley pushing him into participating in stupid little tiktok's, has you pondering. mikko is nice...but not that nice.

is he just trying to get into your pants? and then forgot about you? the thought has you feeling angry, because you're not just some girl who he can treat nicely until he gets what he wants—absolutely not. and you're not going to let him treat you like a fool, just because he wants his dick wet.

the following day you’re determined to get answers and put your mind at ease. you like mikko—he’s a great guy—but you don’t want to feel like you’re being used. there was a team meeting and breakfast today, without the pressure of practice or a game—essentially an off day for the guys.

as the chaos of the dining room begins clearing out, only a few lingering athletes and staff members at some of the tables, you make your way across the room with a determined step, looking for mikko.

you catch the broad expanse of his back and blonde hair sticking out from underneath his beanie just as he slips out the door. you grumble to yourself, speeding up in hopes to catch him before he leaves the facility.

pushing open the rather heavy door to the hallway, you’re immediately greeted by his familiar laugh and gabe landeskogs smooth voice—spewing some dad joke that only mikko would find funny.

before you can sike yourself out, you march up to the two european teammates. “rantanen, I need to talk to you.”

they pause in their slow steps, conversation halting abruptly as both men turn to look at you. the sight of your hard expression and pointed gaze has mikko swallowing roughly, eyeing you with confusion.

gabe snickers quietly, the sound missing your ears, and pats mikko’s shoulder sympathetically. “last name, huh? good luck.” with that the avalanche captain stalks off, disappearing down the quiet hallway.

you cross your arms defensively, looking up—way up—at him, tone rough and determined. “are you trying to fuck me or something?”

“whoa whoa, just hold on a second.” mikko’s eyes widen, looking around the hallways quickly to ensure you were alone. even though he doesn’t see any physical bodies, mikko can’t be too sure—especially when he can sense the conversation is going in a direction that doesn’t need to be overheard.

he gently takes ahold of your wrist, guiding you towards the open meeting room directly across from the kitchen. the censor lights flicker alive as you step into the empty, quiet room—illuminating the once dark space.

mikko lets go of your arm, shutting the door with a soft click before turning back to you. he analyzes your face, eyes flickering over your still pointed eyes and the angry pull to your mouth. confused, he steps towards you. “are you joking with me?”

you raise your brows. “do I look like i'm joking with you, mikko?”

he shakes his head gently, like he’s trying to come up with a reason for your sudden coldness—you’ve never acted this way around him, and seeing you so irritated is rather strange. “why are you asking me that?”

he’s referring to the first question you’d asked him—rather angrily may he add. mikko is unsure what brought on the rather sexual outburst of a question, only because it’s so unlike you. in fact, one time ross colton tried to make a sexual innuendo with you, and you just about turned the colour of a ripe apple.

mikko thinks he must’ve done something—or said something to make you not only think like that, but ask him about—without so much as a blush on your face. you were serious.

you cross your arms again, defensive walls still built high. clearing your throat, you look away from mikko and towards the navy blue patterned rug covering the floor. “ why are you so nice to me?”

you practically whisper, timidly running your foot along the worn out carpet.

mikko blinks. “what?” he’s even more confused now—because why wouldn’t he be nice to you. you’re sweet, and respectful, and funny, and beautiful, and you’re you.

you meet his eyes again, expect this time there’s more emotion swimming in them, and you’re slowly coming down of your flurry of anger—left with fear and your own confusion. “like..,” you start unsure, “you only do the media stuff when i'm the one asking you to. are you only being nice to me so that like, you'll get in my pants?”

you’re right, he thinks. he only does media when you ask, but it’s not because he suddenly wants to if you’re the one asking, it’s because he can’t say no to you. mikko never wants to see you sad—he never wants to see the current look on your face when he can help it.

mikko shakes his head, slow and steady. “no. that's not why i'm nice to you.”

“no?” you parrot, the tiniest hint of disbelief in your tone.

“no.” mikko repeats firmly. “i'm nice to you because I like you.”

“like as a friend?” you gulp, arms falling to your sides as you’re no longer strong enough to hold them around yourself.

mikko doesn’t see the point of hiding his true feelings any longer. the thought of you thinking he had ulterior motives with his kindness literally makes his stomach hurt, and he can’t have you believing he’s trying to use you for his own benefit.

so with a gentle sigh, he takes another step closer to you, eyes softening as he takes in your hesitant gaze and red cheeks. “more than a friend.” mikko admits gently.

your face falls, “oh.” you’re in some sort of shock, looking up at the winger with parted lips and wide eyes. the way mikko is looking at you, so raw and real, has any lingering hesitance falling away, and your expression quickly shifts.

“yeah, oh.” the corner of mikko’s plump lip slides upwards, the beginning stages of a lopsided smirk growing on his flushing face.

he reaches towards you, slowly, hands enveloping the sides of your head as he holds you in his palms. mikko’s hands are so warm and big, completely covering your cheeks and ears—the feeling itself has you turned on.

your breath hitches as mikko’s rough thumbs begin running over your cheekbones, stroking your warm skin absentmindedly.

his tongue licks along his bottom lip, moistening the skin slowly. mikko swallows gently, not once taking his gaze off your flustered face. “but like, just so there’s no confusion, I would eat you out on the table until you’re crying if that’s what you wanted.”

you inhale sharply, stomach dropping with excitement and adrenaline. your body flutters at his words, “mikko.” you whine in a whisper, hands reaching out and resting against his hard pecks. you have no control of your hands, the need to feel him under your palms too strong. you begin running over his covered chest, his muscles tightening and nipples hardening under your deliberate touches.

mikko huffs shakily before he comes down, kissing you with as much passion he can manage. his lips are surprisingly soft and smooth, enclosing and teasing yours in a messy, hard way. the feeling has your stomach swooping further, toes curling in your shoes as the kiss grows harder—needier.

suddenly, mikko’s hands run down your body, passing over your ass with a firm squeeze. you moan into his mouth as his hands find the backs of your thighs, picking you up.

you gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, sitting you on the table like it’s nothing—mikko smirks at the sound you make, and he can’t help the way his dick twitches in his pants. his wet lips trail off your mouth, travelling over your jaw and down your neck where he continues giving you hot, and hurried kisses.

reluctantly, your eyes flutter open, running a hand under mikko’s beanie, gripping the base of his hair between your trembling fingers. “we can get in a lot of trouble for this.” you breathe.

despite your words, your hips rolls against his hardening length, your cores at the perfect angle with you sitting on the table to grinding together deliciously.

mikko pulls back, eyes glazed with lust as he grins. “I know. so we'll just have to be sneaky.” his words are husky, sending your blood pumping and head swirling with need.

he leans back in, giving you another eye rolling kiss. you push his hat off his head completely, giving yourself free reign of his messy curls, tugging the blonde strands as your heart desires.

mikko pulls you closer on the tabletop, further bumping your clothed heat against his. his large hands slide underneath the back of your top, running over your spine and fiddling with the edge of your lacy bralette.

you sigh trembly, disconnecting the kiss. “i'll have to stop asking you questions though. because now I really won't be able to control myself around you.”

the admission has mikko smirking, biting his lip seductively. one of his hands round to your front, groping your tit over your bra. “I turn you on baby?” he already knew the answer to his question—your hardened nipples and shifting hips giving him all the information he needs.

you laugh through a breathless exhale, and you gently hit his shoulder. “be serious. you'll have to tolerate lina, and start saying yes when she asks you to do things.”

“no promises.” he chimes playfully, hands running back down your torso—leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you give him a soft, serene smile, which as mikko following suit—looking at you the way he always has. “I really like you, mikko.” you admit gently, one of your hands running over his building bicep before sliding around to rest on his shoulder blade.

for a moment, his smile remains admirable, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that has ever mattered. mikko has been dreaming of the day you say those words, and actually hearing you speak them is just otherworldly.

but because he’s a boy, and you’re his dream girl with his spit coating your plump lips—he can’t help himself. mikko’s hand rounds to your front, dipping underneath the waistband of your leggings and sliding over your underwear. he thumbs your clit over the thin material, and your mouth goes slack at his touch.

he breathes, smirking at the feeling of your arousal soaking through your panties. “yeah I can tell.”

“shut up.” you huff, pulling him back in to continue your desperate kiss.

[olivialivvy17]

Blind leading the blind - Matt Murdock blurb

pairing: matt murdock x glasses gn!reader

tags: fluff, blurb

warnings: none

wc: 698

a/n: I speak from experience here, cuz I'm very blind myself. also I've never come across a pairing like this so yeah. okay I love you and enjoy <3

Blind leading the blind. That's what your mutual friends call you two. It’s funny to both of you because it’s partially true. You are nearsighted, not completely blind, but without your glasses you’re almost just as blind. Matt, on the other hand is completely blind, even with his heightened senses, he can’t see the way a normal person sees.

You two go together like a charm, a perfect pair. You two met randomly in a caffe while Matt was getting harassed by an impatient prick who couldn’t wait five seconds more for Matt to find his wallet and pay. That’s when you stepped in.

"Hey can you not wait a moment longer? Your morning coffee is not going to run away. Harassing a blind person is a very low blow man” you scolded the guy, eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you stood by the counter waiting for the barista to brew your coffee. Matt responded with a polite smile and a soft ‘thank you’ as he paid and left.

After that, you two crossed paths in that same caffe a couple of more times, which led to him asking to pay for your coffee and asking you out on a real date, that's how you two started dating.

Matt found it endearing how you partially understood him, what's it like not being able to see the world without some kind of assistance. He also loved taking off your glasses before you fall asleep, or when you’re already asleep from reading a book. He’d very gently grasp the frame and slide it off your ears, extending his arm over and putting them on the nightstand. Taking your tired face and placing a kiss to each eye, whispering praises and sweet nothings while gently feeling your face with his large hands.

“Babe, can you clean my glasses? My shirt is not the right material” you ask him, handing your glasses to your blind boyfriend. “Of course love” as he gladly takes them in hand and starts meticulously wiping the lenses with his shirt.

He knows you hate when other people touch your glasses. No one can clean them the way you do, but for some miraculous reason, Matt is an expert at that. Just the fact that you trust him that much with a thing you need in order to live properly, warms his heart and shows him that he means so much to you.

He would also just sit and listen to you grumble about the outlandish prices of getting prescription glasses. “Like I understand that my prescription is high and that my lenses need thinning, but why am I selling my kidney to be able to see!” you huff in annoyance “It’s not even my fault, i was born like this”, only for him to chuckle and shake his head at how cute you sounded to him all pouty and frustrated.

One thing no one prepared you for was the fact that Matt never really needed to turn on the light when entering the room. He was very light and eerily quiet on his feet. So one night he unintentionally, but creepily stood in the doorframe of your shared bedroom, watching (or I guess listening to) you mindlessly scroll on your phone in the dark (without glasses on) for a good moment until you felt someone watching you.

Averting your gaze from the little screen, you noticed a figure standing there in the dark. Matt immediately picked up your frightened heartbeat and softly broke the silence “Hey, hey honey, it's me. It's Matt” as he made his way to your frozen figure, half sat up on the bed. “I'm so sorry for scaring you, I forgot it's dark in here”. You would scold him for doing that, but there's never really any bite in your tone. Afterwards, he would apologize by giving you so many kisses and letting you sleep in his arms.

At the end of the day, and many shared struggles, you both found comfort in each other. Being one another's guiding light.