#like it has to be on purpose at this point

[aycius]

JJK MEN AS DADS !‧₊˚

feat. satoru gojo, nanami kento, & toji fushiguro

SATORU GOJO

literally the kids’ best friends. satoru’s parents weren’t necessarily the most active in his life so he made it a goal to have children with someone he genuinely loved — you. he is such a supportive dad and tends to overindulge in his children’s interest… one of those dads that buys boxes of mangos just because their child said they liked mangos. they wanna learn how to play a sport? satoru’s already got multiple personal trainers in his contacts to make sure your children have the best form of education when it comes to said sport. you thought satoru was playful before? oh, when he’s with his children, he’s even worse. tag, hide and seek, tic tac toe, satoru’s allowing the kids to stay up LATE, because he’s not giving up until he wins one of those games. you argue that the kids are still young, and satoru should be the bigger person and allow the kids to win but satoru isn’t hearing NONE of that. def the type to let the kids stay home just because they said they’re feeling “sick.” you kinda had to step in at a point because the kids got on and started lying just to stay home. regardless, this man loves his kids and is willing to do anything to ensure that they, as well as his lovely wife, you, live a happy and comfortable life. one time after a long family trip, you and satoru were settled in your room while the kids were asleep and he started getting emotional because he genuinely wondered what he could have done to deserve such a loving family :(( poor baby. underneath the playful facade he puts on for the kids, he just wants to make sure they never doubt that their father loves them. you always reassure him that you and the kisses are blessed to have a husband and a father like him.

NANAMI KENTO

you and his daughter are the light of his life. there’s no place he’d rather be than home. he loves it here. he has a portrait of you and his daughter playing in the backyard at his office and always looks at it to cheer him up when he’s having a bad day. recently, your daughter has been clinging and missing him more and she absolutely hates it when kento leaves. your daughter literally takes your phone to text nanami and is constantly checking up on him at work. it’s one of the things he looks most forward to when going to work. he also loves facetiming her when he’s on break because she is always asking for nanami at home and he feels so bad.. always reads her a bedtime story before kissing her forehead and tucking her in goodnight. you and nanami recently started doing road-trips every summer to the beach because your daughter has had a recent infatuation with fish. after a long day at the beach, you, him, and your daughter walk on the boardwalk as nanami carries the little one in his arms, your hand in his as you all admire how pretty the beach is at night. it’s so sweet because nanami loved the beach growing up. the fact that he has the opportunity to go with his new family now, he couldn’t be more grateful. never fails to tell you and your daughter that he loves the both of you more than anything in life. you guys are his purpose and motivation.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

… ok so i’m sure we’ve seen how he has been as a father but—hear me out! toji loves you and his kid severely. toji has always been one to not wear his heart on his sleeve and guard himself but he’s been working really hard, and constantly does, so he can be the best husband and father for his child. although toji is seen as this tough guy in front of others, he has the softest spot for his child. everyday when he comes home from work, his face instantly lights up when he sees his little kid run up to him and give him the biggest hug. scoops the kid in his arm and kisses them on the cheek while he talks about how much he missed the child. he’s def the type of dad to enroll their kid in a sport, and for some reason i can see him being a serious soccer dad. like that man does NOT play. the type of dad to get really loud on the bleachers if another kid on the opposite team LOOKS at his kid the wrong way. constantly makes bets with his kid that if they score a goal he’ll them candy and you’re just like… ykw i’ll let them handle this. you’re just happy to be there tbh. i can imagine toji being the coach to your kid’s traveling team, so weekends are always full of road-trips to the destination where they’re playing at. teaches his kid discipline and respect at a very young age. sometimes he can be a bit tough and you know it’s out of love but sometimes you do have to step in. truly, toji means no harm—he was just brought up roughly in his household. toji parents weren’t the best either so everyday he’s happy that you’re there as a guide to him so he can be the best father possible.

[astrocafecoffee]

Groom pc observation (part 2)

✨ For entertainment purposes only, enjoy ✨

☞ Groom pc observation (part 1)

💘 the ascendant/chart ruler of your groom pc is mainly related to your future spouse's asc or sun. Suppose, you have Virgo rising in your groom pc so your future spouse may have Virgo rising, Virgo sun , or mercury in their 1st house of their natal chart. The degree on rising is also important. Check that too. They can have those signs on their rising or sun.

💘 Regulus in 11th house means your future spouse is likely to have influential and powerful friends. Their social circle may include people of high status or those who hold positions of authority.

💘 Regulus in 10th house indicates your future spouse's career brings public honour and notable reputation. They may be seen as a leader in their field.

💘 Regulus in 3rd house means your spouse may excel in public speaking, writing, communication, or a good teacher.

💘 Industria (389) in 3rd house - they may be in music industry.

💘 Venus in 1st house - very good looking spouse, a prince charming. Good luck guys 🙂.

💘 Venus in 2nd house - very stable spouse (financially).

💘 Venus in 3rd house -

intellectual, creative spouse.

💘 Venus in 4th house - you may considered them as your ultimate home.

💘 Venus in 5th house - creative (inclined towards music , theatre, painting), romantic, playful spouse.

💘 Venus in 6th house - your daily companion, your biggest support system.

💘 Venus in 7th house - they will adore you , and you will experience that type of love you never experienced before.

💘 Venus in 8th house - they will be very protective of you, they seek relationships that empower them emotionally and spiritually, allowing them to grow and evolve through shared experience.

💘 venus in the 9th house - you will travel with them frequently. They may be attracted to partners who are well educated or who have a passion for intellectual pursuits.

💘 Venus in the 10th house - leaders, career in arts , fashion, beauty or authoritative figure. Maybe famous at some point.

💘 Venus in 11th house - has big social circle , your social circle will expand too when you marry/ dating them.

💘 Venus in 12th house - spiritual spouse. They may express their emotions through poetry, music etc.

💘 Fama conjunct Jupiter - famous spouse, Jupiter expands the possibility of fame. It will increase further if it's placed in 1st or 7th house.

💘 Groom conjunct Glo(3267) asteroid means their identity and how they perceived within the context of your relationship could be prominent or publicly acknowledged.

💘 webb(3041) conjunct fama - spouse is famous in social media.

💘 Webb in 1st house - strong online presence.

💘 Venus conjunct webb - showing creativity, beauty,in online.

💘 Varuna ( 20000) in 10th / 1st /11th house means spouse may have worldwide recognition.

💘 Starr ( 4150) conjunct Uranus - star in social media. If it's in 5th house then your fs may possess creative presence in online.

💘 Saturn in 7th house means you will get married later or find your spouse in later age.

💘 Aries descendant means your fs may want to marry you as soon as possible.

💘 moon in 7th house means your fs may be younger than you or you will marry at young age.

💘1st lord in 1st house indicates of focus on personal growth and development. the groom prioritise self improvement efforts and initiatives that enhance their skills, knowledge, or physical appearance.

💘 also the groom sign in your groom pc can be related to your spouse's big 3 ( sun , moon, rising) , again check the degree too.

💘 1st lord in 4th house - while this placement fosters strong family ties and emotional stability, it can sometimes lead to challenges such as being overly attached to family traditions or struggling with emotional boundaries between your spouse's personal and family life.

💘 1st lord in 8th house indicates that your future spouse undergoes significant personal transformations throughout their life. they may experience periods of profound change or evolution in their identity and self expression.

💘 7th ruler in 10th house - relationship in public eye or somehow impacts your public image.

💘 7th ruler in 6th house means your future husband may need to balance his dedication to practical matters with emotional expression and spontaneity in relationships, ensuring that both partners feel valued and appreciated beyond their daily routines.

End....

Thanks for reading ❤️

.......Piko✨

[elaci]

Tashi Duncan doesn't appreciate being left in the dark about her boyfriends exploits, so she beats him at his own game.

cw; facesitting, some strange allusions to infidelity and dishonesty, not *really* cheating but take the warning as you wish, spit, slight overstim.

Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig x fem!reader | The Rule of Thirds masterlist | talk to me! | prev part

The night couldn’t have come any slower, Art is exhausted. Hours upon hours on that court with Tashi, listening to the incessant and unending criticism she spouts in the name of hardening him into a better player. He can feel a headache coming on, and his muscles all feel tight, and still he obliges happily when Tashi invites him to bed. 

It’s less often that she’s the one to initiate sex, so the feel of her pillowed lips against his is a delight Art savours. She straddles him on his side of the bed, silk pillows sit him upright as his hands explore the skin of her body that he’s mapped so many times before. His mind is solely on her, the way she grinds against him, the sweet nothings he manages against her ear, the occasional call-back to how well he did on the courts today. She tells him his footwork has gotten messy and lifts his shirt off at the same time, the contrast between lust and correction does little to turn him on, but she grinds down harder against his clothed cock and suddenly Art doesn’t mind the lecture.

“You do it on purpose, huh?” She throws his shirt onto the floor, and Art makes a mental note to remember to pick it up later. “Get rusty so I’ll fuck it out of you?”

Art can’t help the smile he wears. “Maybe.”

Tashi makes a chiding noise and lifts her husband's chin to get better access to his lips. He tastes like he always does, like how he did on their wedding day, sweet and kind and lovesick. She’d call it a forever taste, but she still remembers the lingering taste of cigarettes and chewing gum from that first time they shared. Or maybe that was Patrick, she can’t remember. Their faces merged at one point in their memories, all good, all bad, nothing normal. 

He’s at the forefront of her mind, almost completely alone. There’s a thought that fades in with every breath shared with her husband, though, one that’s there more often than not: a thought of you. 

“I love you,” Art exhales, and she can almost hear the words in your voice. She remembers the way you said it, eyes wide as if you didn’t know it yourself. She grinds down further on Art in response.

“Mhm.”

“I love you so much,” again, he speaks with that sexual frustration that she really does love to hear. “God, I love you Tashi.”

Tashi closes her eyes, lets herself sit in the praise for a few moments. I love you Tashi, it’s been said before: by him, by Patrick, by you, by hundreds of tennis fans that would have killed to be Tashi fucking Duncan.

Donaldson, now. Tashis eyes open to her loving husband's lust-sick gaze. He’s so sweet on her, so enthralled— he’s gone to the ends of the world for her, he’s pushed himself forward in tennis for her, he’d die for her, she’s pretty sure.

Tashi leans forward, chest against Arts for a moment as she slips a hand under the silk pillow he rests against. When she pulls back, she has something in her hand that makes Art look nineteen and dumbfounded again— the polaroid she had heard him jerk off to in the shower last week.

“The art of making love,” she hums, the tip of her slender finger tracing over the picture in question. “I found it in your drawer.”

SIX YEARS EARLIER

“Lunch on me for the year.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you my best racket.”

“No.”

“I'll suck your dick?”

“No, Patrick,” Art sighs, leaning against the wall outside the photography lab. “You’re not fucking her in my room, not without me there.”

Patrick, who is still peering inside the lab through the tiny glass window on the door, frowns. “You can watch, if that’s what you’re into.”

Art scoffs, crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a heady breath. It’s midday, and Art is missing you like nothing else; you didn’t sleep in his room last night, opting for your own room to be closer to an early class. It’s been a long time since Art has been so clingy. Patrick says it’s cute, but Art couldn’t care less what Patrick thinks when he’s being so insistent about getting you alone. 

“Every time I’ve been close to fucking her, somethings stopped us. Your game, for example.” Patrick steps away from the door and meets Art's gaze. “She’s just printing photos.”

“Please, you still got off. In front of everyone, in fact. We could pull her out,” Art shrugs, “take her back to mine.”

“Not ‘we’, Art: ‘me’. I haven’t gotten her alone yet, fuck handjobs and going down on her in the lab," he tilts his head toward the door. "I want to fuck her, Art, one-on-one. Not in front of everyone, not here, or anywhere near you.”

Something about that comment strikes deep within Art, it causes him to shift and stare at his friend through squinted eyes. “You do remember you have a girlfriend, right? Does Tashi even actually know how much has gone on between the three of us? When she said she was okay with you seeing other people, I assumed she meant a handjob before a match or two, not… this. Not us,” he blinks slowly, gesturing vaguely towards himself and Patrick, and then to the door, "not her."

“She knows everything,” Patrick huffs, shoving his hands in the pocket of his pants. He looks at his friend, at a loss of words, and Art can tell he hasn't been completely honest with his girlfriend. "Look, I'm not saying I'm in love here, okay? I just... I'm kind of going crazy here, Art. With you. With her. She's different. Like… you're different, and Tashi's different."

"Different?" Art repeats, brow quirking slightly. 

"Yeah! Different!" Patrick exclaims. He moves forward to grab Art's arms and shake them playfully, a new grin on his lips hiding the confession of only a moment prior. "Don't get me wrong here man, no one is Tashi fucking Duncan. But I don't think I'm built to be with just one person, I don't think you are either. I sure as hell know you and miss photography have something more than friends-that-fuck going on, but I also know that you love Tashi, maybe more than I do. You're not doing anything about it though, because you don't want to hurt me or ruin things with her, which is admirable. And I appreciate it, but I also hate you for letting this go on so long when it could be something more than us pining over each other girlfriends."

"She's not my-"

"Yet," Patrick interjects. "I'm not trying to get married in a circle here, I'd just rather not hold back on feelings I know are shared..." Patrick leans forward and lowers his voice despite the hallway being otherwise empty, "we all want to fuck each other, Art. All of us, Tashi included. We're all in the same boat."

It's a lot for Art to take in, for the simple fact that Patrick is looking at him with the utmost sincerity, his hands still on Art's arms. "Tashi doesn't even know she exists, does she?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Not yet, no, but I mean... a hot girl with a freaky voyeur side? Tashi won't be able to resist a taste. You think you're going to stop her from getting what she wants? Fuck... imagine sitting back and watching them together."

"They wouldn't."

Patrick laughs in disbelief. "They fucking will."

“Fine.” The word comes unbidden. A part of Art wants it to. The rest of him recoils, feels ashamed for wanting this, for wanting his best friend to have a chance with someone he's already fallen too hard for. For hoping that his own selfish desires would lead to an end result of gluttony. His heart, which has space for too many things now, swells painfully. “If you want to screw her, fine, it’s not my choice. But you need to be honest with Tashi, she deserves that much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick waves him off, and turns to peek back through the little window into the photography lab. “Holy shit,” his eyes widen. “She’s bent so far over that table I can see her panties.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Art rolls his eyes, though when Patrick doesn’t break his gaze through the window, Art jolts into action and shoves him aside, nearly knocking both of them over as he pushes to look through the window. He sees you, though not bent over in the slightest— you’re sitting at one of the tables, one leg crossed over the other, and sticking photos into an album: an innocent scene.

Patrick breaks into quiet laughter at the disappointment etched onto Art's face. “Perv,” he snorts, though yelps when Art punches him square in the shoulder. He’s about to retaliate, instigate a play fight in the hallway, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it to find a message from Tashi and his eyes brighten.

“What is it?” Art tries to get a look at Patrick’s phone.

“Tashi’s back, she wants us to meet her for lunch. We should go,” Patrick tucks his phone back in his pocket and nods his head down the hallway. “She’s waiting, man.”

Art looks from Patrick to the door to the photography lab, and then sighs. “I think I’ll stay back,” he shrugs. “Maybe help out with printing or whatever.”

Patrick grounds, shaking his head wildly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p’. “You’re not fucking her in the photography lab, that’s my thing.”

The brunette is quick to take his friend by the wrist and start leading him away from the jaws of temptation.  Art grumbles a bit behind him. “But…”

“Nah uh, find your own thing. You can have the janitors closet… or the bathroom if you want,” Patrick shrugs and keeps walking, pulling Art by the wrist until you’re an afterthought in his tight-wrapped mind. 

You’re left in the photography lab, choking back a smile at the lack of soundproofing the room offers. Perhaps you shouldn’t have listened so closely, but the weight in your chest at Patricks words ease your guilt. There’s been something in your heart lately, a cavity that longs for more than just a sex scandal waiting to happen. How taboo, though, to yearn for more than the man you have already. As you stick another photo down, you wonder if you might just be a bad person.

Another of Patrick’s confessions weigh heavy on your mind, too— Tashi isnt as privy to your endeavours as he made out. Your jaw clenches at the thought, the dishonesty he delivered on such a sweetened tongue for more of you. ‘She’s fine with it’, may not be as true as he spoke— you wonder what else of his honeyed words were lies.

‘I don’t want you to think I’m only interested in sex with you.’

You shake your head. You don’t want to think about it, about Patrick swaying your emotions for a taste of your release. What he said to Art about not being built to love only one person resonated with you, but secrecy isn’t as hot after the fact.

Still though, there’s something in your step that wasn't there at the start of the year. A certain elation, a sense of belonging, maybe just the result of good sex. You’re stepping outside of your comfort zone, trying new things, new people, new places, new angles. Each photo glued down in front of you is a new shot you wouldn't have taken six months prior. Your favourite one, a shot of the tennis courts from over Art’s shoulder, is a little blurry– Art was cracking joke after joke to ruin your shot, the shake of your laughter blurred the image, but you think you like it this way.

For the first time in a long time, you like the bad shot best.

As proud of your photos as you are, though, being in the photography lab with nothing but the cool air and your own memories for company, is a distraction in its own right. You can’t look at the pictures of the court without remembering the way Patrick’s cock twitched as he came all over your hand, or the look on Art’s face when he realised what you were doing to his best friend under the bleating sun. You remember it in exact detail, the way Patrick looked around before pulling your hand to his mouth and licking it clean; the feeling of his mouth latched onto your skin, sucking his own cum from your fingers like it was silken honey. Exhibitionism at it's finest, Patrick was showing off, putting on a display of his need for you, and you still felt no need to take a photo. The feeling had been overwhelming, but you’d gotten used to it. It was normal, you mourned the loss of his unabashed lust. 

Your head whips up when the door that Art and Patrick had been hiding behind swings open, and you expect to see either one of them slip in, a grin on their lips, a cheeky remark coming to light. When they don’t come in, though, your eyes settle on Tashi Duncan instead. 

You're on your feet in less than a second, the front of your thighs bashing into the table you were sat at. A few loose photos scatter onto the ground, though you pay them no mind: your eyes are stuck on Tashi.  Her hair is tied into two braids down her back, a loose blue cardigan hanging over her shoulders. She looks almost listless, expression unreadable, though her eyes don't meet yours, she looks at your photo album: Art on display. You wonder if he clouds her mind as he does yours. She stops a few steps into the room, standing in silence.

A second passes; silence again. You feel convicted.

Then, finally, her dark eyes meet yours. There's a moment of something almost supernatural, a connection between two souls that feels less mystical than aggravating. You're looking at her and she's looking at you and neither of you want to look away first— it's a standoff. You want to part your lips and speak, though you're stuck on the words to use. If she's so unaware of your relationship with the boys, why is she here? Is she warranted an apology from you? Would you have still fucked Patrick if you had known Tashi didn't really give him the green light? 

She speaks first, with a nod of her chin to the album in front of you. "You're good," she raises her eyebrows, arms crossing. "The one I found in my boyfriends bag was pretty impressive."

You don't mean to fan the flame, but something in you flares under her gaze, so "which one was that?" you question, tone clipped.

Tashi tilts her head, and you wonder for a second whether you have time to write your final will and testament. Instead of lunge, though, Tashi reaches into the pocket of her shorts and pulls out a polaroid you recognise in an instant. Your first time together, shot from between Patrick's thick legs. His cock, which you miss already, stands at point and almost takes attention away from the dark look on Tashi's face. "This one."

"Oh," your shoulders slump slightly. You exhale, try and rid yourself of the slight sting of dread that runs through you. "Look, I didn't even know you and Patrick were together until the-"

"I don't care," Tashi shakes her head dismissively and cuts you off. "It doesn't matter.  I'm not here for him, I'm here for you."

You don't understand her statement, but before you have the opportunity to ask, she's taking a step closer to you and outstretching her hand. Her cold palm meets the side of your face, and you flinch. She holds you still, though, to keep your gaze locked on her as she speaks again, tone lower than before. 

"You're gonna take some photos for me, okay?" It's clear as day, clear as her skin and the way her eyes burn darkened holes into yours, it's not a question; it's a demand. "If Patrick wants to go out of his way to make sure I'm in the dark about something, I'll take it and run with it. We have about ten minutes until he realises I'm not actually meeting them for lunch."

Like tennis, Tashi takes the shots sent her way and sends them back with double the force. She's persistent, relentless, demanding and the worst part is that you're already turning to reach for your camera as her cold fingertips slip under the hem of your shirt. You think of Art for a moment, as Tashi's hands travel upwards and cup at your boobs, and remember he's still neglected to ask you for exclusivity. It's not cheating if you're not tied down in the first place.

Plus, Tashi Duncan is really fucking hot.

It’s not until in your bedroom that night, your legs still sore from the ache left by Tashi's fingers digging into you, that you get the chance to look at the photo of her, and wonder how far she would push you before getting bored. You came twice in ten minutes, once to the relentless pace of her fingers and again to the workings of her tongue: you got three polaroids out of it,  three in quick succession, each of her between your legs as you sat trembling on that fucking table in the lab, Patricks spot. 

Tashi chose her favourite of the three and let you keep it. Following your theme of naming the best polaroids, she titled it with red sharpie: 'EXTRAMARITAL'. It was a photo of your second orgasm, glistening cunt in frame as Tashi laps up what she can of your release; her lips are wet and eyes sultry as they look straight at the camera while her tongue sweeps across your clit. She chose that one after learning about how close Patrick got to fucking you on that same table. In her own words, the moment you came twice was the moment she won. She had doubled her boyfriends score.

You roll the polaroid back and forth between your thumb and index finger, laid in bed with a forming migraine and a dry mouth. Your eyes are trained on it as you contemplate it, as memories and a heavy guilt alike settle themselves in the pit of your stomach. As much as you think of Art, of Patrick, you think of Tashi in the same regard. You've met her only once and already she knows the most intimate parts of you; it's a power she's got, you deduce. Though you slept with both Art and Patrick on the first day of meeting them— maybe you're the problem. 

You aren't given long to doubt yourself though, as there's a rhythmic knock on your door that pulls you on hook and line from your own thoughts.  The knocks are soft and insistent enough to make you frown, and when you glance over at the digital clock on your nightstand, you're surprised to see it's nearly half eleven. You know who it is, of course, you invited him over, but you'd expected more time to be wasted than this, to sit on your bed and stew over things for a while longer.

Still, you  tuck the polaroid under your pillow and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, stepping quickly towards the door. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, though before you can twist it, the door swings open and near smacks you in the face. Standing just outside your room, is Patrick: hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, a faint flush on his cheeks that you don't miss. The stale scent of cigarettes wafts forward from him as he pushes into your room, closing the door behind himself. Patrick leans against the wall by your door, arms folded at the front, smirking down at you like the devil himself, he doesn't say a word: he doesn't need to.

You're about to open your mouth to speak when his arm slips from where it rests along the wall, coming around to cradle your jaw and pull you forward into a rushed kiss. You don't have time to protest as he kisses you hard, deep, possessive, then breaks away just long enough to start walking you backwards and nearly toss you onto your own bed. Your back hits your mattress and he follows you down, pulling his hand from your jaw and placing it flat above your waistline. He's needy tonight. Or jealous. Maybe both.

As you sink further onto your bed and arch your back into his touch, his tongue enters your mouth, slipping easily between your teeth and exploring your mouth like he's aching to swallow you whole. It's messy and desperate, you can already feel the throbbing length of his erection against your hip. The weight of his body pushing yours down is overwhelming, and it's not difficult for you to forget about Tashi all over again.

“I haven’t gotten you alone yet,” he breathes against your lips, first words of the night.

“We were alone two days ago, Patrick.”

“Not really," he counters, leaning down to swipe his tongue over your bottom lip as if staining you with the taste of him. “We were interrupted. I was five seconds from fucking you on that table, condom be damned.”

You laugh, breath hot against his mouth, though the rough hands that pull your hips up into his make you stutter. “You don’t mean it, you’d rather die than get baby-trapped and have to choose between tennis and fatherhood.”

Patrick stops and pulls back a little, you almost worry that you’ve said something wrong, talked down on his priorities, but he gives you that godforsaken grin of his and crawls his fingers up under your shirt to your tits. 

“Fuck tennis,” he near growls, you can feel his words in the depth of your chest. “Say the word and I'll never play again.”

Your eyes deaden. “You love tennis.”

“Yeah, and I’d love to watch my cum leak out of you too,” Patrick shrugs, and pouts when his words earn him a slap to the chest. You take the proximity as an opportunity, though, and pull at the soft fabric of his shirt until he takes the hint and pulls it off. The trail of hair leading down his stomach and under the waistband of his shorts makes you lick your lips hungrily as the sight of him exposed in front of you. He seems to catch the action as well because his smile widens, a mischievous look crossing his face as he bends down and plants a soft peck on your nose. “Let me taste you."

"Patrick," you whine, turning your head to the side as his lips latch on to the expanse of your neck. "We need to talk."

"We can talk later," his voice is muffled by skin as he bites down on the junction of your shoulder and your collarbone.  "You're pretty distracting right now."

"I need to tell you," you insist again, shifting and arching your back to free an arm so that you can grab handfuls of hair and tug him up, so that you can meet his eyes properly. "That I know you haven't told Tashi about this. About us..."

"Shush," he murmurs, pressing another quick kiss to your lips despite the pain of your grip on his curls. "I'm multitasking, darling. She'll like you just as much as I do once she does know. Maybe more."

You huff but relent anyway, settling back on your pillows with a pout. It doesn't last long as he resumes his assault on your throat, working his way down to your tits, which he expose with a swift tug downwards of your tank top. His nonchalant acceptance of your knowing he's sneaking around is agitating you, and so is your body's desperate reaction to his lack of shame- you're wet at the mere thought of it. Patrick must sense the change in you because his movements slow. 

He moves downwards on your bed, kissing his way towards your navel, sucking your sensitive skin between his teeth, teasing you with his tongue for all it's worth. The sound of his low groans vibrates against your flesh, he speaks nonsense about how he 'fucking loves the way you taste', and how 'nothing compares'. You have to roll your eyes, but a smile graces your lips without much resistance from you. He rips off the remainder of your clothes in half a second, and you think he's about to get to business, latch his mouth to your cunt and let you see stars for the third time that day when he suddenly pulls back. Patrick runs a finger over a sensitive spot inside your thigh, gazing down at it in study before flitting his eyes up to yours: he traces a bite mark you didn't know was left behind.

"Art?" He asks, and you can't tell if he's jealous or not.

You lift yourself on your elbow and push your hair out of your face, mustering a smile as sweet as you can before parting your lips to speak. "I told you we had to talk."

"About?"

The timing is almost comical, as Patrick finally readies himself to listen to you, your bedroom door creaks open and in slips Tashi Duncan. Patrick snaps his head around to meet her gaze, and quickly tugs a sheet over your body to hide your naked frame. You see the way the muscles in his arms tense, caught red handed in a situation he's unequipped to explain. Tashi's eyes narrow and, just like her boyfriend a few minutes before, she leans against the wall and folds her arms in front of her. You wonder if they realise how alike they are.

Impassively, Tashi shakes her head. "Get the fuck off her, Patrick."

Patrick glances between you and Tashi briefly before letting out a deep huff of air. "Jesus Christ, Tashi," he mumbles, moving off you and getting to his feet beside the bed. He scratches the back of his neck, like he's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Can we...not do this here?" He gestures to you, looking pointedly at Tashi who rolls her eyes.

"Don't be a pussy, Patrick." Tashi doesn't spare him a second glance. Instead, she turns her attention to you. "He fuck you just now?"

You purse your lips, lolling your head to the side as you shake it in response.

Tashi lets out a long, exasperated sigh. She steps closer to you, sidestepping her boyfriend to meet you by the side of your bed, and runs her knuckles down the side of your face before clicking her teeth together and giving your chin a sharp tap when your gaze falters to Patrick. "Look at me," she urges quietly. "Did you tell him?"

"No," you answer immediately. "I tried to."

Patrick steps in beside Tashi and looks between the two of you incredulously. "Tell me what?" he asks, bewildered. He crosses his arms over his chest. "What aren't you telling me? Because if there's something going on between you two that isn't obvious to me, maybe we should-"

Tashi bends down and catches your lips in a raunchy kiss: a show. She hadn’t kissed you in the photography lab, not with no one watching. But now that Patricks heavy gaze is stuck on the two of you, Tashi kisses you in a way fit for porn. Her lips messy against yours, tongue pushing roughly against your own and her hands slipping under the sheets that Patrick had tried to use to protect your modesty. Your eyes slip closed of their own accord, enjoying the contact of her hand cupping at your tits as she gets lost for a second in the kiss. 

She breaks the kiss with a gasp for air after a while, and you force your eyes open to find her lips tilted upwards in a smirk that doesn't quite reach her eyes. 

Leaning past your body, you catch a whiff of her citrus shampoo as Tashi slips her hand underneath your pillow and plucks the polaroid out from where you had agreed to leave it. Standing upright and turning on her heels to meet her boyfriend's stunned gaze, she holds the polaroid right up to his face. You can see the way his eyes widen, taking in every detail of that picture: pornography at its most raw. At first he looks at the photo like it has three heads and a tail, then he looks at you, then at the photo again. He blinks, and he looks at you again.

"Oh, shit," he breathes, and it sounds almost like a prayer.

You bite your lip and try to stop yourself from smiling at him. You like the way his pupils widen in realisation, how he has to take a moment for the sight to settle when Tashi flips the polaroid and lets him read the title, in her handwriting.

"I win," Tashi says casually, throwing the Polaroid onto your bedside table and turning around to fix her hair. You don't dare open your mouth, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek, because cutting the tension that tightens your dorm room could end up with an unsatisfied you, and you aren't sure why you're here if not self service.

"Tashi," Patrick begins slowly, walking across to her and reaching forward to grasp her bicep, bringing her around to face him. "This isn't some big secret I'm trying to-"

Tashi presses a finger into his chest, stopping him mid sentence. "Don't fucking lie to me Patrick."

"I'm not," Patrick raises a hand in defence, but this cheeky grin crosses his lips. "I just wanted you to see it before you shut it down, alright?" Patrick leans in a little, smirk playing on his face as his voice lowers. "I know you go through my bags, Tash. You didn’t find anything I wasn’t hoping you’d see."

You watch as Tashi freezes for half a second, a dead look on her face that you can't quite place. The couple, a gorgeous pair, standoff in an exchange of heavy looks; an unspoken argument that makes you wonder if they even still remember that you're here.

Patrick continues, “why do you think I pulled Art away so quickly at lunch? I fucking saw you coming in–” he stops, turns to you and smiles sheepishly, “--sorry, we were spying on you.”

“I know,” you hum. “Thin walls.”

Patrick raises his eyebrows knowingly, thin walls mean someone may just have heard you that day before Art’s game. Though he'd sound silly to call that level of risk hot when he's proven himself a true exhibitionist only a few minutes after the fact. You wonder if Tashi knows about that too, how she'd feel knowing you put her boyfriend on display in the stands for anyone and everyone to see. Or perhaps she does already, you wouldn't know.

Tashi doesn't say anything for the longest time, simply stares at him and his stupid smirk, before shaking herself from her trance and raising her arm to smack him on the forehead: you can't help laughing. Patrick laughs too, but he tries to hide it with a cough when Tashi sends him a questioning look. He clears his throat, and you hear his voice come out more serious than usual: “What are we gonna do then? Ignore the fact we're all horny beyond measure and keep on fucking each other behind the scenes?”

Tashi rolls her eyes again, this time in disbelief. "That would be a very good idea, if you want to stay alive."

You snort and Patrick chuckles, but neither of you say a word. There's this thick tension in the room spurred on by Patricks words, you can feel it hanging from every corner of your suddenly cramped room. And Tashi is the first one to break eye contact, turning away from him and walking to lean against your desk. Your camera, your good camera, is picked up in her slender hands and pointed directly at both you and Patrick. "You wanna keep this quiet, or let the world know about your indiscretion? Which one would you prefer? Patrick? How's this going to look for you in the big leagues?"

You look at Patrick, who shakes his head once, a small smile playing on his face. "No one needs to know," he assures his girlfriend, glancing at you for confirmation. "Everyone already knows Tashi and I are dating, and Art's basically head over heels for you. We can call them double dates."

You furrow your eyebrows, looking between Tashi and Patrick. "I'm not saying this isn't the best idea you've ever had, Zweig, but shouldn't Art be here for this? So we know he wants it too?"

A look is exchanged between the couple, a laughable one- you see Tashi grin in a mirror of Patrick. They speak at the same time, "oh, he wants it."

The tension snaps like a rubber band, all the unease that's been built up throughout your entire interaction, and suddenly the room is buzzing with laughter spilt from the three of you. It's cathartic and infectious in the way that authors describe laughter in the greats, your lungs inflating and deflating, filling and emptying, making you feel light. Patrick coughs in lack of breath and Tashi actually smiles; a full smile that shows her teeth and the beauty of her joy. For a few blissful seconds, this entire situation is normal.

And Tashi takes the shot just when you would have; your smile at it's brightest, Patricks grin at it's widest, the room at it's lightest. You don't even take the time to pout and complain about your state of undress, though you really want to. When the air settles, and a sweeter silence spins within the air between the three of you, Tashi sets your camera back down on your desk and steps towards you on the bed. She stands, back straight, on the opposite side of your bed than Patrick, and she lifts a knee high, stockinged foot, and climbs onto your bed beside you. Kneeling on your mattress, you watch as she, ever in her commanding sense, tilts her head in an invitation. She taps her thigh, "put your head down."

You oblige, and shift from your comforts against your pillows to lay back with your head on Tashis lap. She cups your face gently in her hands, and you close your eyes, feeling the heat radiating from where her thighs press against the back of your neck. She strokes your cheeks with her thumbs, the action so sweet that you feel it's a precursor to something, the tranquil calm before a storm. When you open your eyes to find Tashi looking down at you, brown curls framing her face, your fears are confirmed; "we're gonna have to treat you like a homewrecker tonight, pretty."

You lift your head to meet Patricks gaze, though it's dark and hungry in a way different to how it's been before. He's not needy like he is on his quest to get you alone, but rather raring to go, like a racer on mark. Something heated in him spurs on an energy that's about to boil over. You feel a sudden tension in your stomach: anticipation.

"I'm not a homewrecker," you glance back up at Tashi, who purses her lips in a mocking pout and hums in return.

"It's alright," she says. "I was too."

You furrow your eyebrows, an amused grin pulling at your lips despite a lack of context. Tashi leans down to whisper in your ear the best she can; "Art and Patrick."

A shiver runs down your spine at the closeness of her voice. In the distance, you can hear Patrick laughing softly at Tashi. You giggle in turn, closing your eyes again just to be met with the sensation of Tashi reaching down to take both of your wrists in either hand and pull them to either side of your head, pinning them to the mattress in a makeshift binding. You gasp softly, surprised as you realise what's happening and lift your head once more to see Patrick stepping out of those baby blue shorts. You bite down on your bottom lip, watching carefully as he climbs up into the bed and situates himself between your parted thighs. He grabs your ankles and pulls, forcing them to either side of his waist as he returns his hand to his hardened cock, slow strokes keep him at attention before Tashi can give him the green light.

You feel exposed, and the urge to cover yourself with your legs almost overwhelms you, but Tashi's grip on your wrists keeps you in place. She runs her fingers across your wrists lightly, keeping herself in control and she nods to Patrick and leans in to meet him in a heavy kiss atop of you. You can only watch, look up in awe as their lips work together, their tongues meeting in a bruising assault. You want to push up and join them, let your spit pool across their lips in what you're sure would be the prettiest sheen, but Tashi's holding you down for the show, keeping you still and your eyes trained on them.

Their kiss is more aggressive than yours have been with either of them; they fight with their lips, a nonverbal assault on each others dominance. Patrick knows, of course, that Tashi is the one in charge, but he won't sit still in second place without some kind of retaliation. When they part, Patrick takes his girlfriend's lips between his teeth as he pulls away. Tashi gives him a look, and then ducks her gaze down to meet yours; you must look like you're seeing stars already, because the smirk that meets her lips is telling. "Open your mouth," she says.

You oblige, parting your lips and lolling your tongue out of your mouth slightly. Tashi meets your eyes once more, a subtle pride in her gaze at your ease in following instructions, and spits directly onto your tongue. Mint and cigarettes from Patricks play in the kiss mix in your mouth, and you hold eye contact with Tashi as you swallow-- Patrick enjoys the sight too, as you can hear him groan quietly above you. The taste lingers on your tongue, and you wonder if it will ever leave you.  Tashi looks from you to Patrick and nods at him, and he smirks back, knowing what she's asking of him. He kisses her quickly before pulling back entirely and digging a condom from the pocket of his shorts, ripping it open and rolling the latex over his heated length.

You stare at his cock, long and hard and beautiful, now fully erect, waiting impatiently at rest and ready to split you open. Patrick notes your gaze and grins, "want to take a photo?"

You nod.

"Too bad," in a moment, he's climbing back over you and lining himself up with your entrance. A few strokes of his tip through your folds to collect the pooling wetness you've only half-managed to ignore before opening his mouth again, "sorry, pretty."

You don't have time to respond before he's pressing his hips firmly against your own, driving himself balls deep inside of you in one searing thrust. It's not overtly painful, far from it; it's the passionate burn and tight stretch as you adjust to the width and length of his cock that drives you fucking crazy. There's only a second of reprieve from his harsh movements when Patricks settles, because as soon as he's taken a breath to keep his heart from bursting, Tashi is spurring him on to be mean.

His hips snap back and forth into you like he's trying to keep in rhythm with his racing heart. A string of curses spill from your lips at the ministries of his cock, the depths that he reaches, the look on his face each time you tilt your head to watch him. His eyes are stuck on you, despite the portrait of Tashi Duncan sitting with your head in her lap. Maybe it’s because she’s the only one in the room that isn’t stark naked. Maybe it’s because her sights are stuck on you too, her grip on your wrists tight as she keeps you pinned against the mattress.

You lose yourself for a second, let your senses float away to drown in the pleasure of Patricks size. That’s when Tashi says something that you just miss, and feel Patrick still inside of you— you could fucking cry at the lack of friction. Lifting your hips from the bed in an attempt to continue fucking yourself on his cock proves futile  though, as Patrick presses the palm of his hand against your stomach; holding you down and feeling himself inside of you in the same movement. You're about to voice your complaints, beg for something more than punishment, when Patrick moves his free hand and you realise what Tashi had told him to do. 

Still seated balls-deep inside of you, Patricks middle finger begins an almost degradingly messy assault on your clit; he rubs you in light circles that grow harsher with each round until you begin to squirm and writhe and jerk under his ministrations. You're in such a haze of desperate lust that you barely register Tashi slipping her legs out from under your head, and her hands freeing yours. You take the opportunity to grab at Patrick's tense arm and dig your nails into the hardened muscle. Patrick leans down and his words, an aphrodisiac in itself, meet your ears.

"Desperate fucking whore," his words are shaky with the exertion of his quick fingers on your clit, and though they're mean, they only pull your coming orgasm closer. "Couldn't settle for sweet morning sex, huh? Had to spread yourself between the three of us to get yourself off?" 

You moan blaringly in response, uncaring of the thin walls and the way the girls in your dorm building like to talk. You'd dare them to come in and see yourself getting sent to the heavens by Patrick Zweig and his girlfriend, who you suddenly remember is in the scene when her voice sounds "Stop."

You could kill Patrick, all his talk of not playing lap dog and yet as Tashi commands, he obeys. The climax that had welled in your stomach and fed off every morsel of energy in your soul subsides when he freezes, takes his hand from your pussy and brings it to his lips; cheeky smile obvious as he pops his finger into his mouth, savours the taste of you he never got. His tongue swirls over his finger as he holds eye contact with you: you think you hate him.

You're about to sit up, let hell loose on the couple for ruining what might have been your best orgasm in a long time, when two familiar cold hands cradle either side of your face again. You look up to see Tashi Duncan kneeling over you again, though this time she's wearing nothing but a look of pure hunger. You feel like you’re melting into the mattress, speechless as you lay eyes on the sight of her pussy, glistening and perfect and begging for you to taste of what she has so graciously presented to you.

"You're gonna make me feel good, hm?" She almost coos. Your nod is immediate. "You make me cum, and I'll let him make you cum."

"Yes," you manage to speak, the word barely audible, "yes, please."

Tash smiles, eyes fluttering closed as her thick lashes brush against her cheeks and she lets out a breathy laugh. Her gaze travels upwards again to Patrick and she smiles, "I don't want her walking for a fucking week after you're done with her, got it?"

You don't see it, but you can hear the grin in Patricks voice. "Sure thing, babe."

A gentle tap to the side of your face from Tashi, and then she straightens her back and lowers herself down to your lips with an eased sigh; "good girl."

Your tongue darts out to her clit almost instinctively as she pushes her hips down onto your face, unafraid to set her full weight atop you. Your arms come to curl around the thighs settled on either side of your head, fingers digging into the fat of her thighs in hopes that you'll leave marks visible under those short tennis skirts of hers. You swipe your tongue through Tashi's folds, relish in her sweet taste, the warm slickness of her, before latching your lips to her clit and sucking it softly with a low hum. She groans, bends over a little to grab at your tits as she rocks herself slowly against your mouth. "Fucking greedy," she bites.

Tashi must feel her orgasm cresting quicker than she had thought, as she gives Patrick the green light to return to his previous task. Suddenly, you're met with duelling senses of pleasure once more: the taste of Tashi Duncan and the stretch of Patrick Zweig. They clash violently with one another; the mix is salty and bitter in tandem, both using you as a vessel of pleasure. Its as if, in a way, they're fucking each other through you. With the drag and pull of Patrick's cock moving in and out of you as Tashi continues to grind against your face in quick but measured beats, you're reminded of the first time you slept with Patrick; Art occupying your mouth in the same regard as Tashi.

The heat in you is beginning to build dangerously fast. You push your hips upwards, try and take Patrick as deep inside of you as you possibly can; desperate for more. You're rewarded when his hips start snapping into yours harder than before, a desperate rutting that leaves you near delirious with lust. As his breathing starts to become laboured, Tashi rolls her hips faster and faster over your tongue, and then it's all encompassing. It's all you can feel. Her cunt fills your mouth and tastes of lust and sweat and love and you suck, lick and tease the swollen bud with your tongue and teeth. It's a narcotic, the taste, smell, feel: the dynamic of two rather than one. You wonder how much fuller you'd feel if Art were here too. If he would be even half as insistent or impatient as the two flooding your senses.

It's a sweet note that plays from Tashi's chest as her legs start to shake; groans spilling from her lips in fashion of a tennis match. She reaches the peak of the game, the climax in with ball meets court and with a bitten moan she falls forward, hands splayed across your torso to hold herself steady as she cums on your tongue. Patrick's body follows suit a split second later, his dick jerking once hard and a loud thud resonating throughout the bedroom as he buries himself deep inside of you to cum. Tashi lets her hips rock over your lips to get rid of the last remnants of pleasure left in her system before climbing off you with a tap to your swollen lips.

Patrick, still with laboured breath and flushed cheeks, has to take a moment to collect himself. The feel of you still clamped tight around his cock, along with the sight of your lips wet with his girlfriends honeyed lust, makes him flush even redder than he does on the courts. His sudden stillness has your pussy pulsing with an aching need, though, you mourn the snap of his hips already; and the look you give him, needy and cock-drunk, tells him such.

It's Tashi that speaks up, though, reappearing at your side on the bed, dressed in one of your sweaters she must have taken from your closet. You like the sight, and wonder what else she'd let you clothe her in. "Here," she says, holding her right hand out for you to take and squeeze. Tashi's left hand rests on your stomach for a second, pressing down in search of her boyfriend's hard length, before travelling down to your neglected clit. You gasp as her featherlight touch ghosts across your sensitive nub, then she pulls her hand away and looks between you and Patrick with a heated smile.

"What?" she asks you innocently. "You wanna cum or something?"

"God, yes," you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as a fresh surge of pleasure washes over you. "Please."

You aren't so used to being the one begging, but it doesn't feel as demeaning on your lips as you had thought it would. In fact, it's quite liberating, and makes Tashi's smirk widen a bit. Her thoughts are clear as day, grip on your hand tightening as she nods to Patrick and leans back to take in the show.

Patrick, like the lapdog he claims not to be, complies without protest. Still achingly hard, he pulls slowly out of you, the drag a miserable loss of warmth and pressure in comparison to the feeling of having his member completely engulfed within you, and stops just as he's about to completely withdraw. He sits there, still poised above you, before snapping his hips forward in a sudden jolt and listening to the choked scream rip from your lungs. You're sensitive, you realise, and as Tashi dips her free hand back down to your clit and starts rubbing, you're on the verge of tears. 

"Are you crying, baby?" Patrick coos, driving himself to the hilt again. You can sense his pleasure mounting as you tremble underneath his weight. "You like it, huh? Not being the one in charge." 

You could find a way to take charge, turn the tables, but you're too wracked by the intensity of your looming climax to say anything.  Tashi's fingers rub harder on your clit, encouraging the swell of your orgasm. "Cum for us, baby," she whispers to you.

And you do, the sound of her voice enough to spur on the next wave and tighten your muscles until finally, everything explodes behind your eyelids, sending tingles racing across every surface of your skin and making you cry out with arduous ecstasy as you spill all over Patricks twitching cock and the sheets beneath you. When your vision returns and your tremors subside, you realise that Patrick has doubled over, pressing his lips to every inch of your skin he can reach as he shakes with his second orgasm of the night. Tashi huffs out in amusement beside you, shaking her head as she situates herself to sit more comfortably. 

She pops her middle finger into her mouth, darts her eyes between you and Patrick, and with a disheveled smile, tilts her head. You feel an inch from death, every muscle in your body aches, your skin still buzzes with electric pleasure: Patrick is spent, too, heaving atop you in exhaustion; you've milked him dry. And still, Tashi Duncan grins and pulls her knees to her chest in search of comfort. 

One word from her, it constricts your lungs: "again?"

SIX YEARS LATER

Art and Tashi Donaldson sit side by side on the edge of their bed, staring down at the tampon box Tashi has pulled from her bedside table.

It's not like Art would have gone through her things to begin with, but if he had felt the need to search her drawers, he wouldn't have bothered checking the old box of tampons she's kept in there since they moved in. He'd be impressed with the hiding spot if he wasn't lost for thought on what she was hiding. A polaroid sits in the box, a display of his wife's college days staring up at him in a taunt he can't quite look away from, no matter how much he wants to turn his cheek and walk away.

His wife, between his ex girlfriends legs, staring up at the camera through her lashes in such a heated show of desire for its owner. It's a photograph he's never seen before, he'd remember ever laying eyes on such a sight, though he knows they never vowed honesty to each other at the ceremony. Art picks the polaroid up with stiff fingers, trying not to keep his gaze stuck on the image for too long before flipping it around.

"Extramarital," he reads, the irony isn't lost on him. "Why'd you keep this?"

Tashi's lips are set straight. "You kept yours."

"That's not the same thing," Art argues, shaking his head. "I found mine just last week, in the basement with a bunch of other junk I forgot existed. You kept this hidden from me, Tashi."

"I don't masturbate to mine."

Art's jaw snaps shut, she heard him in the shower. He wants to defend himself, but Tashi shrugs and opens her mouth before he can think of the words to say.

"Not anymore, at least. Not in the last month."

"She fucked us over," Art tosses the polaroid back in the box and shuts the lid. "We should... fucking burn these."

Tashi nods her head in turn, "yeah, but we won't." She leans back on the bed and picks up Art's copy, The Art of Making Love, before slipping it into his awaiting palm. "I want you to show me."

"Show you what?"

"How you touched yourself to this photo that made you cum so hard you said her name while I was in the next room."

He had said your name? Art blinks in disbelief at his wife. "Tashi-"

"Show me what she still does to you, Art. Now."

[simpjaes]

personally im a munch sunghoon TRUTHER so the concept of incubus sunghoon that loooves eating pussy makes me insane... like he doesnt even need to fuck or anything he gets his energy from muff diving. just a thought

warning: traditional incubus, non-con/dub-con, somnophilia, breeding kink, pregnancy.

trad!incubus sunghoon, where you wake up one night drenched in more than just sweat.

Sticky and messy, your body throbbing as if you've been touched awake. As if...you're still being touched. It's not painful, but it's uncanny how searing the feeling between your legs is. You can feel the tensing of something against you, the flicking of your swollen clit by nothing more than a barely visible shadow until--Oh, is that...a man?

You squint hard, your legs trying to close but being met with something blocking the movement. You rub your eyes as you try to make out the image of who, or what has woken you up this way.

A stranger, one you've never seen in your life but still you somehow fall into that darkened and piercing gaze as he...licks between your legs with his eyes flicking upwards toward you.

Sunghoon, a notorious incubus who visits women at night when he deems fit, name never mentioned or even known to anyone of the earthly plane but- always a welcome entity with or without realizing it's reality and not so much a dream.

In his experience, many incubus demons tend to be quite unpleasant to look at, which is why he does this. The form of a man, one so beautiful no woman would fight or panic. They'd give in, over and over again, until he sucks the soul straight out of them along with that sweet slick and he's allowed to embed an evil little offspring.

Sunghoon grew bored of the forceful acts after the first four hundred centuries. He likes it when a woman of earth yearns for him. To the point he's even given up the immediate fucks for hours of foreplay. His body reacts the same as it does when he's fucking a woman senseless as it does when he's got his mouth on the sweetest spot.

You're one of these women to him. This is the first time he's ever been rough enough to wake you of your slumber. Typically, his visits end in a nice little too-wet dream for his objects of desire. Sometimes, he wakes them on purpose. Other times, he wakes them entirely without intention.

He just...couldn't help it when it came to you. Time and time again he's paid visits here, slurping up every ounce of your sleepy desire until he's forced to leave upon the rising sun. Always satisfied with the act of releasing his demonic cum without so much as using his cock. Just his mouth, it's all he fucking needs.

And Oh, to feed his sons and daughters to you, to create little witchlings and devil boys from the very flesh of you for doing this to him.

He'd stare for hours at your sleeping form, drooling and tasting every tiny bit of your skin before devouring you from the center. Sliding his tongue so deep, so hot inside of you. When you sleep, you respond well.

Tonight though, as you stir, you respond even better. To the point of searing your fingertips trying to grab hold of his hair as if you want more.

"More?" Sunghoon speaks for the first time in centuries to a so-called victim, his voice deep, rumbled, and echoing off of the night against your window.

You feel the voice hit you right in the clit, followed by a sharp nibble against it before a...forked tongue fondles its way back inside of you.

You whimper and nod, thrusting up against the solid-formed shadow of a handsome devil.

More is what you want.

And more is what you'll get.

More than you'd have ever expected. More than you can handle. More, more, fucking more.

Until you're waking up in the morning, well-rested yet trembling from your intense "dream."

Only, it isn't long until your body swells. Plump, searing feelings in your belly.

[justauthoring]

tears.

tears -> the blood of the soul; where the soul bleeds, you cry.

a/n -> okay can we PLEASE talk about that finaleeeee

pairing -> sanemi shinzagawa x f!reader

oddly, you're more afraid then you thought you'd be.

despite it all, you had believed you were prepared for it—the final battle. given that you'd been working towards this point since that fateful day you joined the demon slayers. years of training, of missions, of pouring blood and sweat and losing loved and cared ones that all lead to this battle.

and yet, you were afraid.

terrified, even, you think. if the shakiness of your hands are anything to go by, you'd venture to guess that yes, terrified sounded more accurate than just afraid. it feels like your heart hasn't stopped pounding against your chest since the hashira meeting nor that you've been able to properly catch your breath.

always short, always gasping—you're desperate for any sense of calm that won't come because the mind was cruel. and reality was even more so.

you'd faced death so many times now that you'd believed this one last, final time wouldn't matter as much. a necessary step that would decide fate once and for all. it was this last battle, you figured, that would decide who came out on top.

but maybe it isn't dying that scares you. yes, you think, it isn't that you're afraid of dying but that you're afraid of—

"i swear, none of those damn idiots will have the slightest clue on how to even begin training—"

it isn't abnormal for sanemi to come in complaining about something or another. what is odd is the tears he's faced with the second he walks in, lips left parted as he cuts himself off. the concern that floods his gaze is instant and all previous thoughts are gone from sanemi's mind as he rushes over to you.

"y/n?" his voice is soft in a way it only ever is with you and strangely, it makes your heart pound more frantically against your chest. "what's wrong?"

his hands are pressing against your cheeks, pulling your watery gaze steadily on his own. you feel your lip tremble and a shaky gasp pulls from your lips, beyond your control, the second your eyes focus in on his own.

you have half the mind to think that you should lie, that it's not fair to burden sanemi with your own childish fears. you do think it, but you lose your own battle the second you feel his thumb graze the skin of your cheek and take in the expression of worry and concern, blazingly present, in his eyes.

"i'm scared," you admit breathlessly. it's hard to admit, even to him, hard enough to even realize it subconsciously and the words feel wrong and like poison—yet, they're true all the same.

and your hands instinctively raise, pressing into him for any semblance of comfort you can steal from him. you haven't felt such terror since the day demons cruely ripped everything you hold dear from your hands—since you were coated in blood and forever petrified from the horrors of their corpses.

"i... i'm afraid of losing you."

it's a ghosted whisper—you don't want to say the words and put the pressure of that desperation on sanemi's shoulders. he has more than enough weight holding him down and you'd never want to add to it on purpose. but you're tongue is lose and your fear is blinding your rational thought and when he looks at you like that, you don't want to lie.

sanemi's hands are firm and never wavering, and as he cups your cheeks he forces you to refocus on him and solely him.

"y/n. y/n."

you stared at him with blurred vision, breath gasping and nails pinching into the clothe of his yukata; you grip him as if he'll disappear from your very touch that moment alone.

"y/n, look at me."

he's leaning, pressing his forehead against your own and swallowing your attention up so there's nothing but him to focus on.

"breathe," he guides, voice gentle but hoarse and rough. "you need to breathe."

you force yourself to listen. force yourself to inhale when he does, soothing yourself by following his movements until, slowly, the fog clears to allow you to see sanemi before you clearly. it still feels like you're short, still missing that last bit of air that would calm you, but it's better than it had been seconds prior and you savour the sanity of it completely.

"good," he praises, brushing your hair away from your face where it'd fallen.

you shake your head; "sanemi—"

"it's okay," he assures, the words just a little too rushed in a way that causes you to blink. it gives you the momentum to notice the slight, barely noticeable tremble of sanemi's hands against your cheeks or the echoing breaths he lets outs himself.

your eyes widen and you step towards him.

"i'm scared too," he admits.

it's admission that means more than anything else could've. in all your years of knowing sanemi, he's always chosen anger and passion over calm and truth. he'd never ever admit to anyone that he, the wind hashira, was scared of anything—he was all fire and strength, racing into battle with skill he'd bled over perfecting and came out the other side a winner.

he had the confidence to boost it. never wavering in his own ability.

so his admittance of fear is enough to pull you from your own racing thoughts and focus on the fear he lets slip—if anything, for your sake.

"but this is what we're trained for," he reminds, fingers brushing against your skin—soothing and a constant, pressing reminder of his presence. you're more than thankful for it. "and it's our duty as hashira to defeat muzan."

you nod, slow, unsure. "i know," you whisper, "i know. it's just..." and your grip tightens, knuckles white and hands still trembling, gripping his clothes in your palm and trying to be as close to him as possible. "i don't want to lose you."

"i don't want to lose you either," sanemi breathes.

you stare into his gray, swirling eyes, lips pressed tightly together.

"i can't promise you we'll make it through this, but know that i will fight like hell to get back to you."

you blink, the tears welling as his words mean more than sanemi could ever possibly know. despite it's brutal honesty, those words are exactly what you need to hear in that moment.

because there is no other option. sanemi is right when he says it's your duty and you have every intention of following through, even if it lead to your death — but the sincerity in his voice as he promises to do anything in his ability to see you on the other side...

it's all you need to hear.

"and i hope you'll do the same."

"of course," you nod, not wasting a second before assuring him of that fact. you press your forehead against his own, lips hovering before his, and sink into him as much as you possibly can. "of course i will. i promise."

he's nodding, the words loss on him as he relishes in your presence just as much as you have been his.

and then, when his lips press against your own, you savour it — not because it might be your last, but because it'll be your strength to make sure it isn't.

[hueseok]

( 16. ) A LOVER’S KISS.

a friends with benefits relationship never ends on a good note. unless, both parties are not dumb fucks who find themselves falling for each other along the way of their agreement, of course.

and in yours and jeongguk’s case, you should have known better than to think the two of you would be an exception to the so-called curse of being friends with benefits with someone you already hold dear to you, since not even five months since it was agreed upon—the line between being only friends and being a little like lovers only continue to get hazier and hazier.

━ jeongguk x reader ━ 4.1k words. ━ 18+ ━ smut | angst | fluff | friends with benefits au | idiots to lovers au | college au | yearning? pining? | ft. swimmer!jeongguk, editor-in-chief!reader (small appearances from swimmer!jimin & associate editor!taehyung) ━ warning/s: swearing

note. no smut for this part, but i’m keeping the rating 18+ and have the smut label above since this drabble series overall isn’t suitable for minors !!

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 16. the one with a lover’s kiss !

jeongguk couldn’t sleep the night before the competition.

it’s not the first time this happened, of course. one can guess that he should be used to it at this point due to the nerves and the pressure and his desire to do great for the sake of the university’s reputation and for his own reputation as well (and maybe because of the expectations of his coach too who often wasn’t that kind in order to push him to the farthest of his limits). 

however, as made apparent by you before you attended class earlier, he didn’t just have the game to keep in mind for tomorrow, no—because as you have explained to him and cruelly reiterated when he called you a few minutes ago just for the purpose of hearing your voice before he tried to sleep—tomorrow was also going to be the day in which you were going to tell him your decision on whether you were willing to fully take him back again or not after the whirlwind of events that happened to your relationship these past weeks.

he wanted to believe that he had a good chance in winning you back; he wanted to confidently say that there was perhaps no way you would reject him, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high either. god knows how much that could hurt once you give him your answer and it turns out to be the opposite of what he was guessing. though a part of him was already convinced that surely, you wouldn’t have entertained his sweet gestures this week since making up if it wasn’t going to lead to you taking him back, right?

right? 

you possibly couldn’t be that brutal.

though in your defense, he didn’t think he had the right to be angry if leading him on was your plan all along. truth be told, he has been both intentionally and unintentionally brutal to you before to have the nerve to complain, that if you were going to take this opportunity to get the revenge you wanted, then he should just be a man about it and accept it the way it is.

***

“i don’t see her.”

jeongguk couldn’t breathe. he took a dramatic inhale to calm himself and regulate his heartbeat. “anywhere? you don’t see her with the guys and just—somewhere in the bleachers, maybe?”

“nope.” jimin glanced at him. “why? is ____ not coming? haven’t you two made up already? don’t tell me you did something stupid again.”

“we’re fine.” he rolled his eyes, slightly unsettled by his own statement. “it’s just important that she’s here.”

“yeah, i know, she’s your lucky charm, blah blah blah.”

“it’s not that.” jeongguk huffed. “well, it’s a part of it, but it’s bigger than that. is it wrong for me to want to try and find her before the competition begins?”

“yeah, coach would kill you if he doesn’t find you here when he arrives, so i advise you to just chill and be patient. maybe she’s just running a bit late.”

“yeah, you’re right. i’m just paranoid, am i?”

“what are you even exactly paranoid about?” jimin asked.

jeongguk frowned. talking about it out loud made it too real, and he preferred not to do it because of that, but he figured that he should at least tell someone about it if he wanted more insight perhaps. at least jimin has been a far better partner to yebin than jeongguk ever was to you to not be the person suitable to talk about this with. “she said if she doesn’t attend, that means she’s dumping me.”

jimin’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “really? i never thought ____ had it in her.”

“she made it clear that she’s not going to see me anymore if i don’t see her today. i’m practically on the verge of death right now—or the start of my emo boy era.”

 jimin snorted. “didn’t you already go through that phase?”

“no, i haven’t.”

“yeah, you have. you’ve been moping for a few solid weeks when you and her weren’t okay. can’t say that you don’t deserve it. after what you did, you realize that it’s fair for her to play you around a bit, right?”

jeongguk wanted to strangle jimin sometimes because of his bluntness and desire to always tease the hell out of the people he’s close with (which unfortunately included jeongguk). but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that it was good to have a friend like him who could slap the facts in your face in order for you to see the truth and the implication of your actions—and be sometimes funny with it, for that matter.

“is it really?” jeongguk asked.

“well… i mean, it is in a way that you should see how lucky you are that you’re going to get your answer straight away. if i was her, i would have dragged this winning her back thing for a whole year before dropping the bomb that maybe we should just stay friends.”

“you seriously can’t be that cruel, jimin.”

“i could be, if someone really fucked me up.” he laughed. “but ____ isn’t like that. and i know she has strong feelings for you too. so maybe the best course of action now is to just trust what she decides for the both of you and live with it.”

this wasn’t the pep talk that jeongguk was expecting to receive before the tournament.

“and what am i supposed to do if she doesn’t come and that means we’re really over?” he questioned again.

jimin sighed. “then i guess you just have to go back to your emo tendencies and move on.”

***

the first time jeongguk personally asked if you could go to one of his matches, you and him weren’t secretly sleeping with each other yet. you were still in that weird phase of being great friends when you have the rest of the gang with you, but suddenly being really quiet and awkward with each other when it was just you two. he never even thought of inviting you alone when it came to his scheduled races, believing that he was doing the both of you a favor by not putting yourselves in a situation wherein you and him will just fall back to the usual cringeworthy interactions that will lead him physically wincing whenever he remembered them.

but that time, you overheard his conversation with taehyung who was apologizing that he couldn’t come for his match that weekend because of a project he needed to work on, and jeongguk, upon hearing him explain, visibly expressed his disappointment at the news because he wanted a friend to be there just so they could take a proper picture and video for him that he could look back after (if it wasn’t mentioned yet, jeongguk was obsessed with always doing a better performance than his last).

“i can go,” you volunteered before, your eyes focused still on the monitor inside the campus publication office but your ears were paying attention to them. “i’m free this saturday.”

jeongguk looked at you afterwards with a look that showed absolute hesitance. he was thankful that you weren’t peering at him to notice. “oh. you sure, ____? i wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“it’s fine.” you flickered your gaze to him. “though, if you don’t want me to be there, that’s totally okay too—”

“what? don’t be ridiculous.” a very very awkward chuckle tumbled out of jeongguk’s lips, one that taehyung furrowed his eyebrows at because of how fake it sounded. “why wouldn’t i want you to be there? of course you can come. i’d be really glad if you do.”

he didn’t know what response he was expecting, but you grinned, nodding in an skeptical manner, and then returned to what you were doing like nothing happened. jeongguk decided to face taehyung again afterwards, the latter staring at him with a similar dubious yet funny look, but he punched his arm and opted to flee from the office, muttering that he was going to be late for class if he stayed any longer.

fast forward to when the tournament came and he finished first place, he was ecstatic, brimming with pride because of his accomplishment—and when he met you outside the locker room to thank you for really coming and taking shots of him that he would review that night, he was a bit startled when you congratulated him with a tight hug, not used to that kind of affection from you.

sure, he always knew you were sweet to your close friends. you were like that to goeun, taehyung, and haru.

to him, though? that was the first.

“i’m so proud of you, guk!” you told him, the smile on your face so bright that he thought he might have to squint to look at you properly. “this is your first win of the season, right?”

jeongguk nodded. “yeah, i think it is.”

from that point forward, things weren’t so awkward between the both of you. your friendship solidified further when he asked if you wanted to help him with something at his uncle’s newly built restaurant, and you agreed, recognizing the same newfound comfort he was beginning to feel that you were eager to foster it more because it didn’t sit right with you how you were alright with everyone else and yet weird with him.

now, he didn’t want to think of the possibility of things being like that again. he barely survived not talking to you that much during the soomi fiasco and the period wherein he purposely avoided you to not cause any more damage than he had after the confrontation. it was one of the driving forces why he made up his mind in truly pursuing you—the realization that he wasn’t fond of the idea of not being able to talk to you every single day, of not being able to tell you the most random things and be certain that you would always know what to say next.

entering the natatorium, jeongguk didn’t appear as if he was hiding the fact that he was searching for you among the crowd. he already quickly spotted taehyung, haru, and goeun at their spot (you weren’t there), and then he tried searching for yebin, hoping that you decided to accompany her instead this time to create some kind of suspense (you still weren’t there when he saw her). so, all he could do after was let his eyes explore the whole venue as fast as he could, his heart hammering harder at every instance he failed to find you.

was this going to be the end of it all?

were you not coming?

was yesterday the final moment he got to hold you?

“guk,” his coach abruptly called his attention, “take your jacket off. it’s about to start,” he said, noticing jeongguk’s stiff posture as he stood there at the starting platform, immobile while the other players he was competing against were already removing their clothes.

jeongguk took one long scan again.

he still couldn’t see you.

and although he has yet to dive into the water, it felt as if he lost the ability to swim and was drowning to the bottom of the pool.

***

“congratulations!”

jeongguk could at least afford them a genuine smile as taehyung, haru, and goeun pulled him for a group hug. they simultaneously and continuously patted his back, the two boys doing it in a harsh manner to annoy the hell out of him that jeongguk had to groan and shove them off to prevent them from doing further damage to his aching body, though not without laughing and muttering his thanks for both being here and congratulating him.

“you did great back there,” haru said with a proud grin. “you’re definitely going to be the cover of the next issue again with the victory. i doubt i have to get ____’s approval just to make that happen.”

at the mention of your name, jeongguk’s attempt to seem fine crumbled a little. it didn’t go ignored by the rest of the gang with him; although they weren’t aware of the deal you and jeongguk had, they could understand that your absence today meant that something was wrong.

goeun cleared her throat, the silence insufferable that she couldn’t resist finally speaking up. “well, uh, haru mentioned that he’s also treating us today.” she placed an arm around haru’s shoulders, tiptoeing and struggling in the process. “right, ru?”

haru glanced at her. “i am?”

“you are.” taehyung chimed in, linking his arms with haru as if to lock him in. “you said you would if jeongguk wins first place.”

“i did?” haru’s tone remained confused.

jeongguk had to chuckle at their dumb effort to lighten the mood again. it was obvious that no conversation which involved haru saying that he was going to treat them later if jeongguk indeed won occurred. 

“don’t worry,” jeongguk said to haru, “i already messaged my uncle about the win and he’s gonna cook for us at the restaurant.”

“thank god.” haru exhaled a relieved breath. “because i do not have enough money right now to pay for all of us.” he glared at goeun.

“sorry, but someone had to say something,” she muttered.

“and you thought saying that i was going to treat everybody was the perfect thing to mention?” asked haru.

her shoulders lifted up in a shrug. “you’re the most generous out of us three.”

“no, he’s not,” taehyung butted in, “i think that title goes to me.”

“is it?” goeun asked. “you’re probably the most frugal of us all.”

“sensible is the right term for that,” defended taehyung.

jeongguk was about to join in the banter, to divert the teasing towards taehyung more as some sort of payback for the back slaps he got earlier, but just as he was opening his mouth to get a sentence out, he saw you coming into view.

you were here.

you came.

but you were late. what did that mean?

“____,” jeongguk breathed out.

the group automatically shut up, whirling around to see where jeongguk was staring at.

he was very much tempted to run to you, but his knees stayed put, somehow frozen in place. a part of him perhaps knew that talking to you immediately might be the wrong choice. he was afraid that the reason why you arrived late today was because you were still planning to reject him, that you were just being nice about it by doing it in person instead of text—but that was more cruel, in his opinion. he rather you don’t see his face when give him the news that you’re not willing to be with him again.

“hey,” you said, looking directly at him before diverting your attention to the rest of the crew. “you guys mind if guk and i speak alone?”

a pause.

“yeah, it’s cool.” haru was the first one to say, followed by taehyung, and then goeun.

“thanks.” you smiled.

they awkwardly shuffled and made their way to the exit of the locker room. they gave one last look to jeongguk just as they disappeared into the hallway, as if they were wishing him luck or reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, and looked at you too, as if they were sending a similar message that translated more into ‘please don’t break his heart or else this friend group might turn weird’.

when they were gone and definitely out of earshot, jeongguk finally had the courage to take a step forward. “____,” your name tumbled out of his lips again, “what are you—”

“i told you so,” you cut him off. you were going to lead this conversation, you made that mental note to yourself earlier prior to leaving your place, and you were going to say everything you had to say to him that maybe you never had the courage to do so in the past. “you didn’t need me here to win.”

he frowned. “winning is the last thing on my mind today, honestly.”

“that’s not a good mindset for an athlete.”

“it isn’t.”

you pursed your lips. “still, you won.”

“i guess, i did, huh?”

“without me there too.”

“yeah, you already said so.” although he didn’t appear resentful, he sounded bitter. “are you going to keep repeating that because you want to prove that even without you, i’ll be okay?”

“that wasn’t my intention.”

“then what is your intention exactly? i thought you said that if you didn’t come today, then that would mean that you’re not willing to give me a second chance.”

“and yet… i’m here, guk.”

he raised his eyebrows. “you are, but you were… you’re late.”

“because i chickened out.”

“you chickened out?”

you moved forward and sat on the empty bench across him. it was a lot easier to pour your heart out when doing that was only done through your imagination. “i was supposed to be here earlier. it’s just, uh, i… i’ve been—i’ve been stalling.”

it was true. you were adamant last night that you were going to give him a second chance. you were confident that for the past few days, regardless of how short the span was, jeongguk managed to prove to you that he was serious in wanting to commit to a real relationship with you. you saw that in the manner he always looked after you, in the manner he made time for you, in the manner he didn’t shy away from showing you affection when he felt like it—you were convinced that even though he never said it out loud, he really liked you, because the things he did… you were positive that you didn’t just do that to someone you didn’t like.

but you were also really fucking scared. it dawned to you last night (while you were overthinking everything and talking to yourself) that it indeed hasn’t been that long and that you were being too easy again for jeongguk; you were laying yourself out to him without him struggling that much. and why? because you loved him, of course. because you were afraid that if you prolonged this, he would give up and you were going to be alone and hurt once more.

“hey.” jeongguk placed his hands over yours as he knelt in front of you, hair wet and expression sincere; you didn’t notice him walk towards where you were, you were too preoccupied in your thoughts again to catch it. “you don’t have to…” he struggled with what he was going to say, mostly because it wasn’t what he wanted to happen, “you don’t have to give me a second chance if you’re not up for it.”

“really?”

his heart dropped. it was only a hypothetical statement; he didn’t expect you to bite the idea.

“um…” he tried to speak, realizing that acting like a martyr isn’t part of his portfolio, but he was willing to act one right now to not make this harder for you. “i mean… it’ll suck ass, and i’ll probably cry for months, and i’ll beg you first not to date anyone else while we’re still studying in the same university—but after that, after i stop being a big baby about it,  i’ll…”

“you’ll what?” you were waiting for what he was going to tell you next. the corners of your mouth were turned slightly upwards at the hint of playfulness in his tone.

he scooted closer to you. fuck his knee; the high probability of it being bruised if he stays kneeled on the ground was the least of his worries. “i’ll stay by your side and i’ll try harder until you get tired of me. it’s what i told you the other day, didn’t i? i won’t ask you to be gentle with my feelings—i’ll let you torture me and walk me around like a dog. i’ll follow you wherever you’ll go, just patiently waiting ‘til you decide i’m worth your time. i’ll let you hurt my feelings, ____, because between us two, i know that it’s my heart that deserves a pretty good beating.”

you snorted at how dramatic his speech sounded. “hurting you is far from what i want. i’m not that sadistic.”

“then what is it that you want?”

“you.”

jeongguk couldn’t stop the smile from conquering his features. he got the answer he wanted to hear. “i want you too.”

“i don’t mean that in a horny way, okay?” you quickly clarified and he had the strength now to laugh. “i want you to be here for me—all the time—is what i mean. i want you to continue being my best friend, and i also want you to kiss me whenever you feel like it. i want you to annoy the shit out of me, i want you to hug me, i want you to volunteer to do the most random stuff just to help me, and i want you to keep proving that you want us to work, guk. i want you to always remind me that it’s safe to let my guard down and give you my 100% all the time.”

“i’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he promised. “you can trust me, babe. you can even exceed that 100% and make it 200 or a thousand—” your laughter echoed in the locker room.

jeongguk joined you, laughing as well, but as he did, it was also sinking in that what happened between the both of you left a huge mark that made it difficult for you to trust him. he couldn’t blame you, no, not after what he did, and he was eager to change that. he was optimistic that he could do that—because he knew it inside him that he has strong feelings for you. he could even say that he loved you and it would feel right.

“i’m sorry for being late,” you said.

he shook his head. “don’t be. i kind of deserved it.”

“well, you’re not wrong.”

“wow. you’re not a sadist, huh?”

you snickered; jeongguk grinned. he thought that he could stay in this moment forever, just you and him staring at each other, this unexplainable yet gooey feeling in your chests making it seem like everything was going to turn out fine.

and then he asked, “can i kiss you?”

your eyebrows rose. you remembered the last time he asked you that, when you were both in the middle of sex and you were hesitant to grant him that kiss because you were afraid of the repercussions that would soon come after once you did. yet, thinking more about the moment, he didn’t really ask you before, really; it was more like a demand, a plea, and it was different from what he was doing right now because despite appearing like he could beg just to get that kiss, it was still so sincere and was done out of—

love.

love? he hasn’t said that out loud before. you didn’t want to assume. but the way he was gazing at you…

you placed your palms on his cheeks while he didn’t hesitate in extending his arms so that they were circled around your waist, pulling you closer that unconsciously caused you to open your legs to make space for his upper body. 

“doesn’t your knee hurt?” you whispered.

jeongguk pressed his lips together. “it’s tolerable.”

there you were again, with that infectious laugh, leading jeongguk to be tempted further to just kiss you without waiting for an answer. “okay, guk.”

he gave you a questioning look.

you rolled your eyes. “yeah. you can kiss me. but if you do...” you trailed, “that would mean that you’re taking the lucky opportunity of being my boyfriend.”

“i’ll make sure to thank you every day for that wonderful honor.” he allowed himself to push forward and kiss your lips. it was what he was dying to do for the past week; it wasn’t enough that he was only close to you or had the permission to hug you every now and then—his body craved to have you close, not in a manner that was horny like disclaimed just seconds ago too, but for all the reasons that you illustrated as well. 

kissing you gave him the signal that you were close. and god, did he always want you close.

“i’ll be better,” he murmured, kissing you continously. “i’ll treat you better, ____.”

you didn’t answer. you just smiled and kissed him further.

when for the past months, having your mouth on his was the thing you had to avoid the most, finally having the liberty to do it now just drove you to do it over and over again.

note. hehe surprise? this update took so long that i think it took two whole damn years before i got the motivation to write again and finish this 😭 apologies for that lmao. life has been a whirlwind but since i'm now in a much happier state, i decided to try continuing this and i'm glad that it ended up with me finally concluding the story :D

honestly, i'm not too sure if got the vibes / essence of the story still since i haven't touched this mini series in such a long time. nonetheless, i did reread it and i hope that i brought justice to what you might have thought the ending was going to be! (also, i might edit this later on for improvement bc i just realized that my writing perhaps did not improve lmao but for now, this is what i can only offer >.<)

as always, THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

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[ddollfface]

𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐝

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

"How can you not dance?"

Your jaw dropped, there's no doubt you'd catch a fly, and your hand flew to your mouth, quickly recouping your bearings. You were still a princess, after all, you need to act like it.

It's just, you never knew someone couldn't know how to dance, of all things. You've always thought that it was something everyone did! You thought that everyone loved to spend their free time clicking their heels and swaying their dress to the newest symphony, letting their hair move in the wind and getting lost in the rhythm. But apparently not.

"Never thought about it, I guess," He simply shrugged, turning his head to look across the kingdom, attempting to hide the smirk that snuck onto his face. He peered back down at his belt, fiddling with the handle of his sword.

"Whaa?" Your eyes widened and you shot up from your seat, leaning over the table. Your brows pursed and lips pushed into a pout, "How can you not think about dancing! It's like-like the best thing in the whole wide world!" You waved your hands around to add dramatic flair, falling back into your seat - your dress crinkling under your weight.

The small tiara on your head slumps to the side, causing you to just push it out of your vision as you lean against the table, hand on your cheek, "You really don't know what you're missing out on..." You grumble.

He just chuckles, "I suppose so..." Looking out at the royal garden, peering at the rooftops that stretch past the castle walls. The garden had a vast amount of flowers, trees, and fruits, from all over the world. Some exotic, while others were local, but they all were different in their own might. And even then, there wasn't even a fourth of the world's nature in this garden.

You really have no clue. There's so much out there, yet you're far too focus on some simple dancing. You were like any other noble, but simply in a different font. You were a slightly lighter rose in a flowerbed of other roses, only standing out if you'd look hard enough. And he was nothing more than a thorn on your side, only created for the purpose of prickling the hands that dared to reach for you. Though he's just sixteen, he's already seen so much, experienced so much more, that he has never had time for silly dancing, these meaningless conversations you indulge in. Though he supposes, that's what he likes about you--your innocence, how you are so naive to their horrors pass the castle walls.

He keeps his posture straight, attempting to stay professional even though you declared the two of your friends from the day you first met. He can't help but feel on guard, taking his job a little too seriously, but it isn't every day that the Nation's Sweetheart's life is in your hands.

"Never had the time, I reckon," He adds on, glancing back at you, only to be greeted by your befuddlement. It makes him chuckle.

"Hmmmm, I guess that's a good reason..." You purse your lips, looking off to the side, huffing as you thought about the situation. A small smile creeps onto your face, your eyes flicker across your large bedroom.

The curtains drawn, letting in all the natural lighting the sun has to offer. The white tiles framed in glimmering gold, just as the doorway and window seals are. Your bed, which is far too big for just one person, stands right in the middle, outlined by white lace. A room fit for a princess, as your father would say.

From where you sat, on the ivory balcony, there was plenty of room to waltz -- you were sure of it. Though the table would be in the way, you're sure the two of you could make do. Glancing over at your loyal guard, you was far too uptight, you jump up from your seat, pointing right at him.

"Well! There's plenty of room here, let's dance!" You smile, feeling far too giddy. It's been so long since you've danced with a friend, and you can't help but feel excited. Offering your hand out to him, you look at him with awaiting eyes, fluttering your lashes.

And for the first time in what felt like years, he could feel his heart skip a beat. The organ pumping blood a little faster, banging and prodding against his ribs in a simple thud, thud...thud. The way your eyes gleamed had his chest tightened, that simple thud feeling far more like the ringing bells of a chapel. That thud was no longer just a thud, but a memory, a vision of what could be, what would be.

Taking your hand, feeling the ivory cloth of the material, he bites back a small smile, covering it with a stoic expression. He stands to his full height and lets you guide him through the steps. Though clumsy, he regains his bearings quickly.

As you laugh and giggle, jumping and twirling in his arms, he decides then and there that maybe... just maybe, you were onto something. It might be possible that you're not just some off-colored rose in the flower bed, but the rose that was plucked and sealed in resin, hidden from the greedy hands of others, instead encased so they can gawk from a safe distance, only for the gardener to touch.

And maybe, he isn't just a thorn on that rose, but the gardener who'd snipped the rose away. Yeah... he liked that idea.

He just needed to snip the bud.

[darthfighter]

it’s you.. isn’t it?

Chapter Two of Your Shadow Series

warnings: violence, tension, & sexual tension if you squint 🫣

summary: since the encounter with the stranger, you stay on edge while trying to heal your wound from the night before. but it seems as though the man you met the day before can help you?

word count: 2.7k

authors note: part two is here!! i’m so excited to continue this series :) i have so many ideas for it. lots of hcs. future chapters will have smut in it don’t worry, just need to build development first.

part one here

Back against your bed, bottom numb from sitting for so long, and hands shaking on your lap. You have been alert since your encounter with this Stranger. You anxiously have been waiting for their return, but it has yet to come in the past fourteen hours. Meaning you haven't slept a wink this whole night. Now, it being morning, your stomach ached for food while your left arm throbbed in pain.

Your arm was still unhealed. Frustration was an understatement on how you were feeling. To be able to use the force, but only for a short amount of time due to your lack of experience with it lately, made you angry to no end. Healing your arm with your force wasn’t an option. Although that didn’t stop you repeatedly trying every thirty minutes. But no matter what, your arm was injured.

You could feel your anger burning in your chest. Never could you run away from your past no matter how much you stomp your feet. Healing never brought you any comfort even though that is its purpose. Flashes of your memory play in your mind as you are in your most vulnerable state. You remember your brother, laid on his bed in the room you both grew up in. His clothes are ragged and dirty and his hands calloused while he has oil under his fingers. He’s tired. But there you are. Young and in your clean Jedi robes. You tower over him in the bed feeling the sting in your heart like he personally dipped his hand through your skin, to your muscles, through your ribs, and tightened his grip on your heart. Your young hand hovers over him, shaking, while your brother laid, unmoving. You begin to heal him.

But here you are, older, hurt inside, and wounded outside. Incapable of healing yourself. You inhale through your teeth and hold your breath in anger. Hot tears leave your eyes. You know if you let yourself let go with your feelings, you won't be able to stop.

You take that as a signal to get off your ass to get something to eat and after your meal, you’ll find some medicine in town.

After your quick snack, you start to walk towards your small chest where you keep your credits. Thirty. Thirty credits is all you have. You haven’t been able to find a suitable job since moving to Olega, so you’ve been living off of your savings. You start to wonder what Maker forsaken place will even accept thirty credits for something to heal you. But looking for a place that will, is the only option you have.

You march outside your home, ready to scout the area.

Five places rejected your offer. Five places let you down. Five times have you almost broke down in disappointment. This took a toll on you. You have gotten to the point where you shuffle your feet through the dirt covered streets slowly. Feeling your motivation start to fade out of you. Your feet stop. You’re in the middle of the street, hungry yet again and still in pain. You start to contemplate if you should turn around and make your way home. Although that thought brought you fear at the mere chance of this Stranger returning once more.

A loud crash echoes through the street to your right. Your attention shifts to the sound to see the man you saw the day before in these streets. This time, he seems more lively than before. That being because he speaks before you do this time.

“Hello!”

You accept this greeting by walking towards him while holding your left arm with your right hand. Now, you stand before him in front of his shop. But before he can speak again, you ask a question. “Do you know a place nearby that has a reasonable price for medicine? Not too expensive.. I uh-” You finish the sentence by moving your hand to reveal your burn. The man responds with an over exaggerated wince.

“Actually..” The man walks back into his store while finishing his sentence inside “I have just the thing.” making the rest of his statement sound muffled.

You shake your head in amusement, but also feel the weight off your shoulders leaving knowing your mission to find medicine is now over.

Walking inside, you see all sorts of items. Gadgets, antiques, even weapons. Him rummaging through his cabinets and drawers is all you heard. While also listening to his quiet mumbling. “Just a second… I just had this.. damn thing..” His voice is low and smooth. The rummaging stops as he holds what he was looking for. He starts to walk towards you and motions you to sit on the counter.

“Right now? Shouldn’t I pay you first?”

“You can pay me after.”

“But you didn't say how much this is!”

“How many credits do you have?”

“Only thirty-”

“Perfect!”

He walks more towards you, you walk backwards and clash with the counter. Your heart begins to thump against your ribcage, and your nervous shaky hands hold you up so you can sit on the counter. Like he told you to.

He starts to make his way closer to you, positioning himself in front of you. Making this the closest he's ever gotten to you. His hand reaches your left arm, but before he rests his hand on it, he looks at you for approval. You nod your head softly and he gently touches your arm. He then pulls down your tear to give your injury more access to the bacta spray. Then, he sprays the bacta onto your arm making you flinch from the instant feeling it gives.

It felt cold. The cold that hurts.

You begin to slightly pull away from the spray and it makes him hold onto your arm tighter, to hold it in place. “Just for a bit more, I'm almost done.”

You swallow your pain while the man looks at your expression. As the spray scans your burn, he scans you with his eyes. You can feel his gaze on you, and you close your eyes to distract yourself.

“Alright. That should be all good now.”

He sets the bacta spray on the counter but his hand still lingers on your arm. Realizing this, you open your eyes to check in on your arm. He lets go and scans your whole arm this time. His eyes set on your hand.

“Looks like you already got one of these, huh?”

You pull down your sleeve in embarrassment. As well as the fact you don't want to explain to a random person that you got the scar in your padawan days.

“Thank you, for this. You have no idea how close I was to giving up. Everything is so expensive these days.” You lift your bottom off the counter to stand up. Now, you are close to the man and feel intimidation while also having a hint of curiosity in him.

You put your hand out for him to shake, and introduce yourself. His hand meets yours and you immediately feel something. It feels as though holding his hand felt like you were on the edge of a cliff. You feel energized. Your heart thumps against your chest. You look up to him and he has a certain look on his face. It’s like the one you saw before in the street.

“I’m Qimir.”

—

The best plan you can muster out of your head is to scout your own home on your neighbors roof. From this view you’ll be able to see the Stranger come inside your house. That is if they decide to come again tonight.

So here you are. With your black robes to help your disguise. Even though there were no people around you, you felt a bit silly on how paranoid you looked. Although you shut those feelings down remembering you are fearing for your life. You felt like it was justified at least a little bit.

Time passed and you started to feel yourself grow less alert. You scouted the area less and less, and let your blinks last a bit longer than you should’ve.

Then suddenly, it feels like time froze. One second you're tiredly looking at your home, and the next you are lighting your lightsaber on instinct. The instinct being the Stranger attacking you from behind with their own lightsaber. Immediately you block their attack and your lightsabers illuminate a bright light on the rooftop. The lights reflect off their helmet giving you a better view of them on this dark night.

You lift off the ground to get ready for your stance, but you start to feel your knees shake before you out of fear.

“Your tolerance has weakened.”

You feel offended by this, even though it is entirely true. You launch yourself towards them and sway your lightsaber. The two of you match each other's blocks, and swift your wrists together. Once you get an ounce of a break from your physical conflict, you observe them. The way they are walking, the way they’re tilting their head at you, and the way their voice stays smooth like they aren’t even fighting you.

“I sense so much pain. Suffering.” They force pull you close to them and you position your saber in front of you, which helps you block their attack. Now, the two of your lightsabers are crashing together inches away from both of your faces, they finish their sentence– “Anger. You just don't know where to put it.”

Fire then left your throat turning into a scream. You know this will bring attention to your neighbors and people around you, but you don't care. You put all of your frustration into your force push causing a distance between you two. You know they are right. They’ve been winding you up with their antagonizing that it’s making your blood boil, and it's clearly giving you more power to the force than before.

You start to huff from exhaustion but know you need to stay on track. You want this all to end. The taunting and the fear. Enduring another minute of fighting with whoever this person is and them reading your thoughts is too much to bear.

The masked Stranger lunged towards you, and the two of you duel together. You move your lightsaber to attack, to only have them raise their arm to block it causing your lightsaber to give out.

The panic sets in. They take a big step forward and sway their saber towards you, but you move out of the way just in time. You start to back away, and look down to your saber. It’s flickering with purple shining in and out.

“It’s easier to let it out. I can help you.”

“Get out-” Your lightsaber lights back up on its own and you form your stance before your strike. “-of my head!” Your feet stomp towards the stranger and the two of you crash together again. A block here. A clash there.

There is a moment in your duel where they are able to grab ahold of your arm, and headbut into your saber. Causing it to give out once again. In this moment, it’s the first time they’ve touched you. But there is something about their hand on your arm that feels familiar. You're on the edge again. You feel as though you're looking over on a cliff, feeling the adrenaline. The shop. The medicine. Qimir.

Your eyes squint towards their helmet as though you can see through it. This causes them to push you away from them. You can feel the panic radiate off of them.

Again, your lightsaber lights but you have it lowered to the side of you. You have given up fighting at this moment because all you want is an answer. The answer being if this person before you is Qimir.

With heavy breaths you say “It’s you.. isn’t it?”

They dont answer, but only slowly take slow steps towards you. You feel like the fighting is over and you start to let your guard down. Although your saber stays on. Now, the Stranger is in front of you. Tilting their head. But then, they sway their legs under yours to sweep you off your feet.

Your back stings at the immediate pain of hitting the floor. The Stranger then strikes you, and all you see is red. Until you force block their attack and hold their lightsaber in place. The saber vibrates in front of you and they are temporarily frozen. You needed to take advantage of it. You kick your foot against their shin and they fall to the floor. This time, you know their helmet causes your lightsaber to short circuit. So, you turn yours off and use the hilt of your saber to strike their helmet. You hit it three times until it crashes to the floor.

You bring your feet into a crouch to stand up. They do the same. Both of you stand up together, in sync.

“You..” You faintly say, like a whisper.

His face is still and precise. The same face you saw before, but it looks like you're looking at a different person.

“You feel it too, don't you?” His voice isn’t modulated this time. If anything, it feels more intimidating than before. You stay silent and frozen. “Mm. You don’t have to answer that. I know you do.”

“You know nothing about me.” You spit back.

“Don't let your fear blind you to what you feel.”

You stare into his eyes in the hopes to read him like he's reading you, but all you get is nothing. His door is locked and you can jerk the knob all you want, but it just won't open. He takes a step to you, you take a step back. And this happens until your heel hits the back of the roof, near the edge.

“You’ve been what I needed all this time, as you need me.”

His words make you stumble and you start to lose balance, but before you can fall backwards. Qimir reaches towards your wrist and holds you in place mid fall. He is touching the same arm he previously did. This time, he brushed his thumb over your scar on your hand. It brings shivers down your spine and your hair stands up. He gently pulls you forward to set you standing straight again.

The commotion to both of your fighting has brought attention to your neighbors, and you can see bright lights coming your way. Qimir doesn’t look behind him but knows they're coming with his statement.

“What’s keeping you here? They’re gonna find you. Question you. Take you in. Once they find out your ex Jedi.. Well.” He shakes his head side to side while puffing air out. “I don’t think you want that.”

He makes a good point. The last thing you want to do is have the Jedi back into your life, and question you as to why you left the order. Making you relive the painful reason you left all over again.

“Or.. you join me.” Silence fills the air as the tension grows with his offer. He speaks again. “You figure out how to make peace with your past and join me as we both live a life where Jedi don’t make all the rules.”

The rules. The words brought anger inside you. Qimir senses it and smirks. He knows he's convincing you. Your door is starting to crack, and he's easing his way in.

“UP THERE!!” A loud voice yells from below your building and it gives you a signal you need to make a decision fast.

The thought of staying behind while you deal with the situation that will come to you full of dread and anger makes your face scrunch of how much you don't want to deal with it. Then the thought of joining Qimir, who senses your feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long. As much as he frustrated you, you felt a sense of relief in finally being able to be seen in that way. As negative as it was. But that's what drew you to him. He’s no Jedi, that's for sure. Because if he was one, he’d treat you like some maniac for having such strong feelings of hatred and anger. You sense familiarity in Qimir. In some ways, you feel like you're looking in a mirror.

A mirror you wanted to keep looking into.

You nod your head yes, and he smiles to himself. Ready for what's to come.

[zucchinitart]

skinty LJ 💕

finally gonna make a ref sheet for this man!! repurposing an old sketch cuz I still generally agree with the design…I actually intended to render that old sketch but never did 😭

now here’s some never-before-revealed lore and headcanons!! (this all takes place in a story I’ve never created except in my head 💀 also some have been told, I’m just reiterating them):

-This is how LJ generally looks between the years 1817 to 1886. He was “born” in 1803, stayed with Isaac for one year, got stuck in the box for 13 years, and only started wearing bandages in 1817 once he became a target to the public. As he started getting more wounds, he found out that they would open up easily and opted to wear bandages most of the time.

-He can’t eat as he lacks a digestive system. Instead, he feeds on human interaction. The more positive the interaction, the better it is for him. Because he had such a poor relationship with humans during these years, he ends up looking starved. He’s quite weak in this state, and the only thing keeping him alive is his wit and his sharp nails for weapons.

-His limbs are black right above the connection of his joints (knees and elbows). The rest of his skin is white.

-His hair would be naturally curly, but due to improper care and the long length dragging it down, it ends up looking wavy and sometimes even straight, albeit very frizzy and/or greasy.

-In 1886, that’s when LJ and Lillian first meet (omg OC and canon??? gross 😰🤢). They create a pact, and he starts getting more positive interaction with humans. As he gets more “sustenance,” his wounds start to heal properly and he gets stronger. Unfortunately, most of his wounds have scarred over at this point and they remain on his body as it’s now recognized as “healthy” tissue. (Placement of scars will be in another post)

-Lillian is 23 when she first meets LJ.

-Before his strength improved, Lillian could actually beat LJ in an arm wrestling contest!! But after about a few months of being together, that was no longer the case. (Lillian’s ego was a little hurt, but it was inevitable 😞)

-Although it looks like it, he never actually felt starved. He doesn’t experience typical feelings like hunger or fulfillment.

-Sadly, he’ll never retain his curl pattern. Lillian tries very hard to get it back as she has her own experience with her hair, but she can never get more than a few curls on his head. She gives up at some point and just accepts his wavy/straight hair as is. LJ truly doesn’t care either way. If he had his way, he’d probably forget and never wash it again.

-the dickless look is on purpose!!! No reproductive system means no dick!! Yippee, no nsfw 🤗 Unless I feel freaky, which will most definitely happen…so if you ever see him with a dick, it’s just for my own nefarious purposes 😞

-When Lillian first found out how old LJ was, she said “wow, you could be my grandpa….” LJ didn’t take too kindly to that and scolded her like a grandpa.

-His body stopped aging once Isaac died. In this version, Isaac dies at the age of 21. LJ is physically around 5 years older than Isaac, so his physical age is stuck at around 26 (but it’s not rlly trustworthy as his body isn’t comparable to a typical human’s…I’d say it’s probably between 25-35 though)

I want to get into so much lore, but I wanna save it for when I draw a comic or something. Ty for reading if you read this far!! 💕

[useless-catalanfacts]

Translation:

El Español (newspaper): The victory of parents like Sonia: 107 schools switch Valencian for Spanish because of the Mazón law.

Response: Is it possible that Spain is the only country where it's considered a victory the fact that your children will be only monolingual instead of bilingual?

Surely not the only one (imperialist countries very often try to exterminate the languages of the countries they occupy, which also means not allowing their children to learn the language of the place they move to), but Spain and France are particularly aggressive against the local languages that aren't Spanish and French, respectively.

Schools in the Valencian Country and the Balearic Islands (where the local language is Catalan or Valencian, two historical names for the same language) are being pressured to remove the local language from the school and to teach only in Spanish. In fact, the Spanish nationalist and far right-wing government of the Balearic Islands has announced that Catalan-speaking children and Spanish-speaking children will be segregated in schools from now on (parents will choose which school to send them to, accompanied with the propaganda pushing them to choose Spanish schools), with the purpose of reducing every time more and more who gets to speak and learn the islands' language, imposing Spanish instead.

Everyone learns Spanish regardless because it's the government's language and it's everywhere (TV, radio, netflix, social media, etc), plus we study it in school as a first language anyway. It's impossible to grow up here and not learn Spanish naturally as you grow up. But the same is not true the other way around. If children from Spanish-speaking families, immigrant families, and those families who have believed the decades of being told "speaking Catalan makes you sound uneducated/rural/stupid/rude, only Spanish is good for your children's future and makes you normal", if their children are only exposed to Spanish at home and on media, and because Catalan speakers are already bilingual and have an inferiority complex so will always switch to Spanish when talking to a Spanish-speaker, these children will never learn the language of the place they live in, and they will be monolingual Spanish speakers. When the number of monolingual Spanish speakers grow, Catalan speakers will be even more marginalized and won't be able to access healthcare in our language (though we already don't half of the time), won't be able to go to the shops and talk in our language, won't be able to have services in our language, etc. And, thus, they will have made our language almost useless for our everyday life. We will disappear from public spaces, and people will stop passing down the language to their children. And the language will die, and with it our way of understanding the world, the words that describe our culture, or our ability to read what our ancestors wrote, our country's literature, or to understand the names of the places we live in.

The point was always to exterminate our language and culture, to create their made-up dream of a unified Spain where everyone is the same, which has never existed. As Franco used to say, "we want an absolute unit. With one language: Spanish. And one personality: the Spanish one".

Cultural diversity is a richness and beauty of the world, and every language has an equal right to exist. Don't let anyone convince you that your language and your people don't deserve to live.

[rowretro]

𝐁𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

✧warnings: suggestive, blood, mafia Hoon, yandere

❁synopsis: Sunghoon is one of the most infamous yet famous mafia leaders known, he was one who had his morals, he wouldn't hurt a woman unless necessary. The man had previously been married twice, both times his so called wife cheated on him, hence he divorced them, making sure they left his house with no money at hand. now he's married to y/n, he's cautious, cold, rude, but he secretly loves her, yet he has his doubts, stalking her and seeing if she's a cheater...

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

"Sunghoon! morning Hoon... I-I made you breakfast~" Y/n said with a wide smile on her face. Sunghoon just coldly stared at her, as he glanced at the maids, their heads hung low "I-I wanted to cook for you, it's typical for wives to do so... so uhm.... Im sorry it won't happen again..." she apologized staring down. He silently sat down and ate, not saying a single word.

The girl smiled to herself seeing that he was eating. The man left for work, not even looking in her direction. It's ridiculous one'd say. Sunghoon saw her first, when he was speeding past her on his bike, his helmet on so no one recognized him. Since then, he'd purposely speed by her, smirking at her flustered expression, until he eventually kidnapped her to keep him all to himself. Sure she was scared, but the moment he legally married her, she felt maybe its a new beggining.

He's never touched her nor harmed her since, he barely spoke to her. Y/n wore a white dress that reached just the middle of her thighs, her manga-like lashes done already by a lash tech Sunghoon had paid for, she applied some light makeup as she wore matching high heels, she left the building looking stunning as ever.

Sunghoon wasn't new to y/n getting all dolled up to even just get the groceries, or buy herself some ice cream from the corner store. However, he remained cautious of her actions, following her in his car, not too far behind. Y/n however, wasn't all too clueless. She took note of the same exact black car following her everywhere she went, but she never knew it was Sunghoon in that car.

Hence Sunghoon was rather confused when he saw his darling wife, in front of the window, head down as she sneakily peaked out. He wasn't too interested in what she was doing, more in what she was wearing. He couldn't take his eyes off her body, that short silky white night gown hugged her in all the right places, it only barely covered her. "Hoon you're back?" she whisper asked as Sunghoon nodded.

The male frowned as Y/n pulled him down with her, his arm snaking around her waist as he sat on the floor with her, pulling the girl onto his lap, nis face nuzzling into her neck as he left a few open mouth kisses down her neck to her collarbone "What are you doing babe?" he asked, as he slipped off a strap of her nightgown. "Look- see that black car? it's been stalking me for a week and now its here.... I think its an enemy hoon-" She said.

Sunghoon frowned looking up, only to see her pointing at his old car that he had used to stalk her "Oh my sweet sweet y/n... that's my car.... I was following you around to make sure you were always safe, you've nothing to worry about not with me by your side" he said with a smile. A smile that melted y/n, a smile she's never seen before on him "You should smile more often.... I like it lots!" she said as Sunghoon kissed her jaw. "For you... I will" he said as he pulled her closer to his body.

The wife whom he will always trust, the wife who loves him dearly.

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

[keepingeahalive]

Miss Rosabella Beauty: The Queen of Wasted Potential

Okay, I'll admit it. I do ship her and Daring. I'm a sucker for Beauty and the Beast, and I couldn't help myself. That said, objectively, this ship and Rosabella's character.... yeah, it kinda sucks.

Maybe I didn't want to admit it because Beauty and the Beast is my favorite fairytale. But the more I look into her character, the more I realize she embodies virtues that contradict her own story. Epic Winter was more about "fixing" Daring's supposed selfishness than addressing the real elephant in the room, and Rosabella was a plot device to push that narrative. I think she could have been an interesting character with flaws and a lot of depth. But she wasn't, and I am very very disappointed.

Her Character

The first time I saw her, I was really rooting for her. She's an animal rights and monster activist. She could have been great friends with Cerise for that reason. She could have even had interactions with Ramona in the past. But she comes off as self-righteous and preachy.

I get she's an activist and that's the joke; activists are inherently self-righteous. But this is Ever After High. Where's the nuance? She could be an animal and monster activist because she's experienced prejudice herself. She's the daughter of Beauty and The Beast. Look me in the eye and tell me she doesn't have any Beast genes. I dare you!

It's canon that Beauty and the Beast is considered a bad destiny story, with the stigma of the heroine falling in love with a creature most fairytales would pin as the villain, and a handsome prince carrying the stigma of being of being a beast even after the curse is gone. She should understand that better than anyone. And yet, this kindness and compassion she tries to convey comes off as condescending. She inserts herself into situations because she feels she's needed when nobody has asked for her help.

2. DARABELLA

Rosabella was only introduced in one minisode and suddenly gets a big role in Epic Winter? She and Daring hadn't had a meaningful conversation up until that point. Really, she barely knows Daring.

For the daughter of Beauty and the Beast, she's so .... judgmental. She's supposed to have the ability to see people's true intentions, but why does she get it so wrong? She immediately assumes Daring is self-centered and narcissistic. On the surface, I can see where she's coming from. But, that's only on the surface.

Daring is more complex than she made him out to be, and Epic Winter wanted the audience to think she was in the right. We know this isn't true. Daring loves being a hero and saving people. He loves his siblings and does what he thinks is best for them. He certainly cared about Lizzie enough to respect her wishes. He's chivalrous to a fault!

Daring is clearly going through some things, and it doesn't seem like anyone's paying attention to what's really bothering him: He has no purpose anymore. He's been brought up his whole life thinking he would be King of Ever After, and now his world is shattered. He's not coping well. And Rosabella thinks he's full of himself when she's barely met this guy.

Having him become the Beast from Beauty and the Beast felt natural to me in the story progression, but Rosabella's inclusion felt forced. She gives him the same old advice from her original story when she should be hinting at something greater. This should be the turning point in Daring that destiny is malarky, and he can break away from the expectations his family and peers put on him. But she doesn't understand that. She only sees that he's obsessed with his looks because his main form of coping is gone.

He's not really upset about his looks. He's upset that his destiny is gone, and either that's not as important to her as him getting over his looks or she doesn't know him well enough to know what's been put on him. Assuming it's the latter, why wouldn't she try to find the root of the problem instead of fixing what she thinks needs fixing?

Daring is the victim here, even if he has issues to work out. And it doesn't seem like she's really listening to him.

3. The Cousins No One Talks About

Yeah. Rosabella and Briar are cousins. And there is very. little. BACKSTORY!!

We know their dads don't get along. Briar's is a monster hunter. Rosa's is The Beast. Their moms are sisters. That's all we know. What's her relationship with Briar? Is it a tragic sisterly bond? Or did the two drift apart/fall out because of their family conflict? Rosa's mom is likely the black sheep of the family, so do she and Sleeping Beauty still talk anymore?

How does Briar feel about all this? Does she have time to feel anything about it at all? She has her own family and her own destiny to worry about. What kind of influence did Briar's parents have on her views on beasts? She hadn't even been to Rosa's home until they were both well into high school. How much do they even know about each other?

We know so little about their dynamic. Family conflict shapes a child, and both of them probably have some deep-seated trauma relating to their families. But did the writers forget that they're cousins?

4. How I Would Write Rosabella (and maybe Daring)

First, give her the ability to transform into a beast. It's not hard.

She's advocating for people like her to exist. She wants people to see both sides of her and those like her to be seen as more than monsters. But she's had her fair share of prejudice, even within her own family. Her uncle is a monster hunter, so a half-beast niece would be considered an abomination. Because of this, she suppresses her anger to better the image of beasts. She doesn't want to, but she feels like she has to, for her own safety and to make herself more palatable in society. However, the more anger she holds in, the less control she has over herself. Her judgment becomes clouded, and this makes her jump to conclusions about people's behavior. She wants things to be fair so much that she gets in trouble for it. She wants to be understanding and patient, but having a hair-trigger temper gets in the way of her goals.

Give her a backstory with Cerise and the Hood-Badwolf family. Her family would know more than anyone the hardships that a human-beast family goes through, and they should be very good friends because of that. Her growing up around Cerise and Ramona would give her more of a reason to protect the beast population.

If any sort of relationship with Daring were to work, they would both have to learn from each other. Daring would learn to let go of people's expectations of him, and Rosabella would learn to let her anger out in a healthy way and pick her battles. Daring can't be the only one learning from her, and Rosa shouldn't see anything to fix in him. She needs to accept him for who he really is, not just preaching about appearances.

She should be embodying both Beauty and the Beast, all the kindness and grief that comes with it. She's not meant to be a paragon, and the writers should not have portrayed her as such. She needed to be a character with her own development. She needed to be portrayed just as in the wrong as Daring was when they met, not about appearance but about each other. She needs to admit her mistakes and acknowledge she is not always right about everyone. Or, at the very least, have her see right through Daring's facade about looks and realize there's something deeper going on.

The writer's dropped the ball on this ship, and they did Daring so dirty here. But they also did Rosabella a disservice by making her so two-dimensional and preachy, almost not even her own character. There are so many routes they could have taken with her. She could have been great, but she wasn't.

[leftneb]

alr amateur in-depth analysis time bc I don't think I can really come to any sensible conclusion provided the state of the dash rn

I have a much more refined version of this now! partially changed my mind on the interviews bit and went more into details of the collision. I'd recommend reading that one

(be warned this got very out of hand I really did just want to look at the contact but then things happened)

regular racing

2. max moves off the racing like

I'm assuming this is to prevent lando from taking the inside line. makes sense so far

3. lando takes the outside (normal racing line as you can see by the tyre marks)

4. max suddenly veers back onto the racing line

this is likely an attempt in blocking lando from overtaking. but at this point they were side-by-side, which means max is just driving into him

the only place for lando to go at this time is off the track

5. they make contact

IMO this was on max, but it definitely wasn't "on purpose" (max also wouldn't try to initiate contact considering it would ruin his own race)

as far as I know this is fairly characteristic of max, he has a sort of "kill or be killed" attitude on track, which usually translates to "either YOU move or we're BOTH crashing out"

either of them could have moved to avoid collision, but they didn't, because they're racing drivers, obviously they're not going to move and give up a win

max basically drove into lando here, absolutely did NOT leave the space

as for the other overtakes/attempts

max already stated that their mistakes (the slow pitstop + his lockup) cost them a lot, these allowed lando to get in a fighting position in the first place

lando was natually going to try and make the most of that opportunity, though maybe a bit too aggressively at times

lando sets up for the overtake, gets blocked

pretty much standard procedure, nothing to talk about here

2. lando overtakes max but locks up in the process and runs wide

you could definitely argue that this was just a bit too aggressive, or that lando was going in over his head maybe

to me the whole "lando doesn't have experience fighting for a win and he makes mistakes because of it" feels a bit like a cheapskate but there's truth to it

lockups happen, especially under pressure (and even more when he's aware he has to run a perfect race in order to beat max)

Lando then says on his team radio:

"he can't keep moving after I've moved it's just dangerous. we're gonna have a big shunt. he forced me to go wide and lock up"

looking at it from lando's perspective I can see what he means here

lando took the inside line and they were practically wheel-to-wheel by the time max started turning, seeing that max is taking a line that would lead them to a collision he panics and locks up

like just imagine you're lando. you've taken the inside line, there is no space to your left, so you're expecting max to leave you a gap. instead he starts turning in on you. you are going to try preventing contact so you break and swerve, you lock up, the only way forward is off the track

from max's perspective I can only imagine this happening if lando was out of his view. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt here

also I think "he can't keep moving after I move" (and the entire radio message) pretty much foreshadows the contact later on

3. lando takes the inside line, max leaves him space by going off the track

we are going car racing. lando is being aggressive here (though I wouldn't go so far as to call it unreasonable) max doesn't break hard but leaves him the space, the only place he can go is off track

you could definitely phrase this as "lando forced max off track"

but you could also argue that "max broke track limits to maintain his position" he COULD technically have backed off, but again, would have been very uncharacteristic of him

post-race statements

I am biased toward lando (and I really hope that didn't affect my analysis too much) but I do think the whole "apologize or we're not friends anymore" sentiment is a bit. side eye.

as much as max was being aggressive at times, so was lando, they both want to win, obviously they're going to be aggressive

it was a hard race, it was a GOOD race, they both made mistakes but in the end it was max who denied them both the win, which is an unfortunate consequence of, yk, racing

generally I think approaching these things objectively is always the most sensible. however, we have to acklowledge that we're talking about some of the most competitive people this planet. they both immediately went to blame the other, they always do

lando implying that he wants to basically break up with max because of this is insane. but so is max refusing to acknowledge that the collision might possibly have been his fault

as a viewer I want to just sit here. eat my popcorn. and enjoy the race, prefferably WITHOUT the entire community going to war about it without any respect for other people. like I'm not saying there should always be peace and love, there is NEVER going to be a race like this without drama but for the love of god don't ACTUALLY want to kill eachother

[reagent-leon]

GUYS!!! Stop saying Coyle is singing his ABCs wrong!!

"T, P, D, A, T, F, C, I, A, F, B, I, U, S, P, I, S, D, O, D, S, S, S, U, S, A."

He's not singing his ABCs he's just using the same tune, they're all acronyms

TPD = ?*

ATF = Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives

CIA = Central Intelligence Agency, 

FBI = Federal Bureau of Investigation, 

USPIS = United States Postal Inspection Service,

DOD = United States Department of Defense,  

SSS = Selective Service System, 

USA = United States of America

Okay? So let's all stop saying he's uneducated or illiterate because he's definitely not. Pre-Sinyala Coyle kept "obsessively complete notes" according to Clyde Perry's account, and furthermore just look at his pretty handwriting on the evidence boxes, that's not an uneducated scrawl. Coyle is willfully ignorant, but he's not lacking in basic literacy skills.

"But Leon, why did he misspell Guilty as Giltee on the Scapegoat?"

Well, friend, I don't entirely know. But as he's spelt it correctly in other places, he probably did it on purpose, matching his dialect to emphasise his point. Maybe he just forgot about the U and by the time he'd started carving the L he knew he needed to commit to his fuck up.

*Sooo I have some theories as to what TPD could stand for.

Total Permanent Disability. In one of Coyles' dialogues, he mentions his Father losing his foot in the Battle of Hürtgen Forest. That injury would likely see him permanently disabled and unable to work as he had before (it's implied that Coyles' parents were cattle ranchers), therefore he would be entitled to welfare checks.

Tulsa Police Department. Tulsa and Blackwell are within 2 hours drive of each other and it's very possible that Coyle completed his training at the Tulsa Police Academy before going on to work for the Blackwell Police Department. Tulsa also has history of violent racism, which would appeal to Coyle.

Tactical PSYOPS Detachment/United States Psychological Operations. There was extensive use of psychological operations in World War II, and given everything that the Outlast Trials are about I think this is a worthy contender.

Tobacco Products Directive. This was the only other thing I could think of that would make sense in conjunction with Coyle, but it's a European Union directive, and therefore I think it's unlikely this is what Coyle is referring to, but I still thought it was worth mentioning.

If you have any better ideas please feel free to share them!

A big big thank you to my friends in the Coyle Crew: @misa-bun @soggy-bean and @mortisdeth for their help in researching, theorising and giving me moral support when I thought I was about to lose it

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Ok so I know that I just did a poll for what to focus on but I really just need to get this Drabble out and then I’ll focus so hard on my Eddie Big Bang fic.

Anyway! I’ve been thinking about false positives and how that could correlate in presenting in the omegaverse. Like it’s rare but it can happen.

For example Steve Harrington has been forced to go to the doctors every month to take a hormone test to see if he’s going to present as an omega, beta or an Alpha. His parents desperately want an Alpha and are taking every opportunity they can to ensure Steve will be one. His father, an alpha, is purposely scenting Steve every morning before he goes to school. His mother had taken pills when she was pregnant with him and makes him lunches that have strong testosterone levels. It’s now getting to the point where he’s getting close to being able to predict what he’s going to be and it’s a very stressful time.

So when he goes to the doctor and the test finally comes back positive to him show casing alpha hormones he’s relieved. His parents throw a party to celebrate, and when they realize their efforts worked they return to disappearing on business trips. Leaving for weeks on end. Now, all they have to do it wait for Steve to present, but they already know Steve’s going to be an alpha so it wouldn’t be productive to be home when that happens.

Though their plans sort of back fire and Steve hasn’t presented on time. He’s extremely late while his peers all proudly announce their secondary genders. He’s a little disappointed but knows he doesn’t have long to wait. So he decides to throw a party for his friend Chrissy. Who just presented and is the first Alpha female in Hawkins ever. Even though that’s not what her mother wanted, who purposely did similar things to Chrissy as Steve’s parents did to him. They actually both bonded in the doctors room because of it.

So that’s how the both of them find themselves sitting across from Eddie Munson, who had also recently presented as an Alpha. They wanted to have pot there, Steve really enjoyed getting wasted and stoned at the same time. Chrissy just didn’t care, it was a huge party. So they offer to include Eddie in the celebration, as he just presented and hasn’t really thrown a party.

He declines.

Neither Chrissy or Steve see or talk to him until the party. Chrissy had been so busy that she didn’t notice Steve not feeling to hot. Or the way he stands next to Robin Buckley, an omega from band, and has the best conversation ever. Between feeling the most comfortable he has ever smelt under her smell, and feeling like he just met his long lost friend something shifts. His stomach cramps up, his chest grows sore and he feels over heated.

He has to step away from the party before anyone notices. Steve’s pretty much having a panic attack on the stump hidden in the woods when Eddie finds him. His scent smelt a lot stronger than it had at the picnic table. And now that Steve thinks about it he hasn’t been able to really smell anyone until he started to talk with Robin.

Steve doesn’t want to ruin Chrissy’s party, nearly going into distress about that. He knows she deserves this but his entire body hurts.

Eddie sits next to him and without thinking carefully rubs his shoulders. It’s best that everyone presents with only their family members, but Steve didn’t have anyone and he was scared. He’s lost in a haze and being wrapped in one of the best smells and being lead to a van. He doesn’t know what’s happening but Eddie seems a smidge freaked out as Steve’s body temp keeps raising higher and higher.

They somehow find themselves at the Henderson. Dustin’s mom was a nurse and would know what to do. Immediately Steve is taken care of. Eddie is forced to stay, just in case as he was the only alpha in the house and Claudia may need him.

Steve is pretty much stripped to his boxers, and both Eddie and Claudia think he’s about to present as an Alpha. He’s showing the signs of it up until the middle of the night and something in his body completely shifts. His scent changing from the hickory to a soft sunflower. He watches in real time as Claudia goes from being tensed up from the alpha smell to relaxing from the scent change. Her eyes are beginning to droop as she tries to take care of him.

“Dear I think you have the best scent I have ever smelt in my twenty years of being a nurse.” She admits. She’s changing the care routine, quickly grabbing scents that she things Steve would want. But is quick to realize Steve’s mumbling about two people he smelt at the party. One being Robin, who started all of this.

Claudia doesn’t waste a second and forces Eddie to go get her. An hour passes and Eddie comes back with Robin who is confused as to why she is needed. Unlike Steve she hadn’t smelt Steve and knew he had to be an important to her. But when she walks in the room and takes one small sniff she knows immediately and is quickly wrapped around Steve before Claudia can stop her.

It’s not uncommon for omegas to bond with each other, what is uncommon is for how hard Steve and Robin bond. Steve is quick to toss on a tank top, not wanting Robin to have to curl next to him shirtless. He’s already feeling himself calm down.

Then comes Eddie. Who pops his head in to say he might have it go. Before he can he gets a whiff of Steve and is quickly red in the face and stumbling over his words. He’s not allowed to stay, as he was an alpha. So instead he gives Steve his battle vest without a second thought and dips.

The presenting process goes a lot smoother after that. Steve is clearly an omega and has a lot to figure out. But for now, he’s happy with Robin, Claudia and even bonding with Dustin. Claudia’s son, who hasn’t had another omega in the household in a long time. Steve accidentally claims him as a pup in the process but Claudia doesn’t mind.

[poppy-metal]

Okay so I’m obviously stuck on the idea of being established with Art and Tashi and them bringing Patrick in atm 😞💔 BUT do you think there’s any contention in the dynamics while they’re trying to find a nice balance between the three of them?

Like bickering or getting pissed because Art can be way too lenient, and maybe he doubles down because Tashi and Patrick are so unshakable that he thinks you need someone on your side, but Patrick can’t fucking stand how much he coddles you. He thinks it’s so boring and he’s taking all the fun out of everything.

And Art gets mad because Patrick can be too harsh, too intense. Like Art safewords out for you because Patrick is slapping you and he’s going to leave bruises. And Tashi gets mad because he’s overstepping.

And idk just early in the dynamic I imagine it would be kind of clumsy because there’s a whole new personality in the mix, and doubly worse because it’s Patrick.

i love this dynamic sooooo much. you think it'd be easy because everyone wants eachother but its not. arts still struggling with his marriage being open at all - with the way he was raised polygamy is just not something he ever thought he'd be okay with. being nonmomgamous still fills him with shame sometimes like he needs reassurance constantly that everyone wants this, that hes not making anyone feel neglected. there's also feelings of possessiveness like he doesn't want to share you with patrick, i think out of everyone you and him struggle the most with jealousy.

tashi probably has the least struggle with it - but it's a lot of new things and stuff changes and shifts alot and she has to gentle herself. accounting for all of your feelings isn't something she's used to and she slips up alot, is flippant when she should be more considerate. doesn't see things from someone elses point of view - that kind of thing. she thinks everyone should be more like her, and that feelings not explicitly stated aren't worth her time.

patrick is just a ball of energy. he already loves tashi and art. i think it's easy for him to fall for you too - but he deals with some deep hidden resentment that you're the coddled one and his emotions got treated like dirt over the years. its annoying and you're such a little baby he wonders how tashi can tolerate you - but then again she'd always liked her submissive little lambs that she could lead to slaughter. he wants to be the one doing the slaughtering. its hard for patrick to baby anyone - he's always been blunt as hell and brash and it leads to alot of tension between the two of you.

I think he purposely provokes you and pokes at your insecurities. like at first you aren't ready to sleep with him and that irritates him because you obviously think hes hot - so he makes sure whenever he's fucked tashi or art that you know about it, just to rile you up. and when you're in bed together her purposely hoards attention - he's commanding enough of a presence to get away with it, too. Its so easy to get lost in him, the pull he has over you all is really something. the ability to make art beg to suck his cock, the ability to make tashi whimper - he can both of them wrapped around his body and it'll take a few moments before one of them remembers to bring you in - he does it on purpose and it makes you want to claw his eyes out.

I think you refuse to sleep together with them all together like that for awhile and its what the breaking point is because art gets pissed - confronts patrick on how he bullies you, and patrick just laughs because you want him to bully you. you just wont admit it.

think it ends with patrick getting real fed up with you and pushing you too far one night - or beyond what you've been pushed before with art and tashi - with him calling you a fucking whore and how you probably want him to just take what he wants from you, huh? you're babied enough as it is you want to be fucked like the little brat you are. you want him to sneak into your room at night when mommy and daddy aren't home and force himself into your little cunny and keep going even when you struggle and cry for him to stop. you want him to violate you.

"stop." art would say, flushed and panicked. he doesn't know if hes speaking for himself or for you. "red. stop - she doesn't like it."

and you have tears in your eyes, its true. but not for the reason he thinks. still - you let him gather you up. hold you against him. sheild you from patrick like hes a scary monster.

everyone's upset.

tashi's upset art would presume to know what you'd want - art would snap that there are times she was too self involved to know what was upsetting you before and tashi would go quiet - and then patrick would get angry at everyone for being so fucking horrible at communicating, like its a mess. he probably threatens to just leave like - "this is too fucking much -" and art yells at him to leave, then. they were fine without him before, they'll be fine without him now.

and your eyes get wide because you didn't mean for this to happen. you want to open your mouth and say that you're fine - that its okay. that what patrick said was right and you do want all those things to happen you just cant voice it because you dont want to be a bad girl. you're art and tashi's good girl and now you want to be bad for someone and its all confusing in your head and you just chew on your lip as they all fight over you and you tune out.

eventually you come too, and you realize patrick has really left. packed his things. and you feel your stomach drop. and when you ask where he went art gets this sour look on his face, stiff and frozen over and something you hadn't seen in awhile - and he just shrugs like it doesn't matter even though it clearly does. "doesn't matter. we should've never brought him in, in the first place, baby. im sorry." he drags you into his lap and kisses the side of your head and pretends its fine but you know better.

tashi is more distant and interactions feel forced and cordial and sometimes tashi looks at you like she blames you for it all - and you realize she has a right to because it is your fault.

because of your own fear of your own desires you'd let patrick be pushed out. you used to think that might give you relief, to be the center of attention again. but the absence of patrick eats away at you just as much.

you think you should have just stopped being a brat and let patrick in. stopped being sp stubborn and admit you liked him and wanted him to touch you in a different kind of way.

It's probably weeks later until you finally decide to pull on your big girl panties and talk to art and tashi - tell them what would have saved you all alot of trouble from the start - that you think you're in love with patrick zweig, and you want him back. you want to be a family again.

just thinking about how aggravated patrick would be - spit out TWICE by people he thought cared about him who'd rather choose eachother than admit they want him. thinking about how it'll take alot more than showing up at his apartment and saying you want him back. because do you? do you really?

thinking you might just have to get on your knees and beg.