#self sabotage on that one buddy

[deathfavor]

@ofsavior said: “Oi, Kazutora-kun.” Chifuyu voices while on their shared break. Broom still in hand, he sets it aside and faces Kazutora a bit uncertainly. “I’m not really sure how to ask this, but it’s been on my mind for a while.” Chifuyu begins, the nerves evident on his expression. “Are you living life for you?” It’s a broad question certainly, but a simple one. “I mean looking to your own path.” Dusting off his hands, Chifuyu lowers his head. “I know you’ve been working a lot to atone for the past.” Chifuyu approaches Kazutora then and stands relatively close. One hand reaches and rests upon Kazutora’s shoulder. “I want you to know I forgive for what happened back then.”

   Kazutora lifts his head from looking at his phone to cast a curious glance towards Chifuyu when the other calls for him. That curiosity only increases when he sees how uncertain Chifuyu appears to be. It’s strange, he can’t think of a reason why there should be such nervousness. So with that in mind, he sets his phone down and tilts his head. “ What’s up, Chifuyu? Ask away.  “  Kazutora offers lightheartedly, attention on Chifuyu with a relaxed smile that hopefully offers some reassurance to whatever is on Chifuyu’s mind.

   It feels like he’s been punched in the chest. The question is full of ugly, sharp teeth that sink themselves into his skin with vicious relentlessness. It makes the easy-going smile on his face disappear in an instant and his head turns away to look off to the side before he can stop himself. He can’t hide from the question even if he wants to. Are you living life for you?  “ What brought this up? “ He asks, trying to sound casual but it sounds panicky to his own ears.  

   His jaw clenches and then unclenches, but he isn’t angry. Not at Chifuyu, and certainly not when Chifuyu looks nervous. He can’t fathom why Chifuyu is nervous over what’s been asked. It’s not him being dissected and judged. ( Kazutora deserves it, he knows this. Ten years doesn’t change the fact you’re a killer – let alone a twice convicted killer. Helping animals doesn’t change that his hands are soaked in blood. ) Gold eyes stare at the wall with relentless focus, but he’s not seeing it. Not really.  

   Kazutora wants to flinch from the touch, but he stays still because it’s the only thing grounding him. He stays still because he knows Chifuyu means well. It's meant to comfort, he knows that. “ I don’t. “ Kazutora croaks, voice raw even under his efforts to keep it controlled. He clears his throat and tries again. “ I appreciate knowing that – “ And he does, he really does “ – but I don’t forgive myself. “ Kazutora whispers, dropping his gaze to stare at his own hand.  “  Two years. That seems like my time limit. “ He laughs, bitter and rough.  “ We’re getting close to two years since my release – and I’m scared to death I’m going to do something or fuck something up for you. “ It wasn't even about himself. He was scared for Chifuyu's sake. His chest feels heavy, like it’s being crushed under the weight of his words. “ Two years of knowing Baji before meeting Mikey, Toman forming, and then killing Shinichiro. Two years of juvie, and then Baji. Now two years…“ It’s like some sick fucking joke that haunts him. He shivers, cold despite the warmth of the break room. “ Maybe Hanma was right... “ 

   Are you living life for you? “ Living life for me? “ He feels like a disappointment – which is the story of his life.  “ I’m - It’s never- “ Kazutora stutters, stumbles over the words he’s trying to say. He feels sick. “ I never have an ideal future or dream job or path.”  Kazutora offers weakly. His gaze darts back to Chifuyu for the first time, quick to rush out the words. “ I appreciate this, here, and everything you’ve done. I do like it. “ His eyes squeeze shut when he looks away. “ It just...feels like everyone else has their path, their goals, but I don’t know where I’m going. I didn’t expect to be here. “   A statement made with multiple meanings. “ And sometimes I don’t feel like I deserve it. This. “ He gestures around them, then hugs his arms close to him in a self-soothing gesture when guilt sweeps over his visage.  “ So…I don’t think I am. But...that's fine. I just continue to try to atone, help here, you know. All that sort of stuff. “ He offers a shaky smile towards Chifuyu in hopes it is reassuring.

But he's scared. He's scared and now he's said he's scared it feels harder to ignore. 

[mssishipi]

was it casual? — lhs

SYNOPSIS: Let’s play “Casual” by Chappell Roan. How far can you sink for a guy who only sees you as a bed warmer? Somewhere between the silences, you start to wonder. If it’s just casual, why does it feel so real? And if it means nothing, why does it hurt so much?

content tags: angst, fuck buddies, heeseung is an asshole (his friends also), reader is a sucker for bare minimum, smoking, contains 2nd hand smoke too, mention of pregnancy, sad and kinda happy ending (if you squint), lots of crying and self sabotage. no part 2 :)

warning: profanities, explicit content (smut) unprotected sex, pussy eating, mention of squirting, blowjob, shower sex. WC:12.3K

note: damn 233 followers already? thank you so much! here's some angsty heeseung fanfic for y'all

"Why are you so dumb for crawling back to that man? We all know you're just one of the girls he likes to bang."

The words hit, burning through your chest, Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table, nails digging into the cheap wood, the pressure grounding you as frustration bubbled in your throat.

You shouldn't care. You shouldn't. But fuck, it hurt.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck everything about him.

You knew his reputation. Everyone did. He was the guy people whispered about in dimly lit hallways, the one whose name was laced with envy and lust.

Lee Heeseung wasn't just wanted—he was craved. His sharp cheekbones, the way his thin upper lip curled when he smirked, the small face that somehow made his presence even more intimidating. And that slightly arched nose, just perfect enough to make your stomach twist when he looked down at you. He wasn't an academic genius, far from it, but intelligence was never his selling point. It was the way he carried himself, the lazy confidence, the quiet arrogance that made people flock to him like moths to a flame.

And you? You were just another moth.

But no—no, that wasn't true. You were different, weren't you? Heeseung doesn't fuck twice. That was his rule. One time, one night, then you were nothing but a name on his list, a passing memory in his beautifully wrecked life. Yet with you... it wasn't just once. He kept coming back, kept pulling you in with his heated stares, his late-night texts, the way he said your name like it meant something.

And maybe that's why you let yourself believe that you were special.

But were you? Or were you just another girl foolish enough to think she mattered?

Your breath hitched, throat tightening as the weight of it all pressed down on you. You were exhausted. Exhausted from convincing yourself that he was just "figuring things out." That he was complicated, not careless. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted you the way you wanted him.

But he didn't. He never did.

And you were done.

Fuck him. Fuck his stupid, perfect face!

You were going to leave. You are going to block him, ignore him, and dragged him out of your heart with bloodied hands if you had to. It was what you deserved.

Sike, bitch.

"Heeseung!" You screamed his name, fingers twisting into the sheets as he drove into you from behind, your body arching under the force of his thrusts.

"Fuck, you're always so tight," he groaned, voice wrecked, half-laughing like he knew exactly how weak you were for him.

His grip on your waist tightened, his hips snapping against yours with punishing speed. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, pleasure and frustration tangling, it was something that made you forget why you wanted to leave in the first place.

His hand slid up your back, rough fingers ghosting over your spine before settling around your throat.

He forced you down, pressing your chest into the mattress as he continued to drive into you, deeper, harder, making you feel every inch of him. Your breasts bounced with each movement, and then his other hand found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your legs tremble beneath him.

"You're shaking already?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape, but then he tightened his grip on your throat just enough to make your head spin.

"Hee—fuck—" Your voice broke as the pressure coiled inside you.

"Come for me," he ordered, his breath hot against your ear.

And you did, hard. Your orgasm hit, your body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through you in dizzying waves.

Heeseung groaned, his pace faltering, and then he was spilling inside you, his hips jerking as he buried himself to the hilt. His lips found yours from behind, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, claiming kiss, the kind that made your heart stutter even as you hated yourself for it.

The both of you collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

Heeseung didn't move immediately. Instead, he slid his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly as he kissed the back of your neck.

Your chest tightened.

Was it casual?

Your brain screamed yes.

But the way your heart fluttered said otherwise.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck him for making simple things feel intimate.

Fuck him for always making you stay at his place, for the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, lips warm against your neck as he whispered a sleepy "Good morning, baby." Like you were his. Like this was more than just a cycle of fucking and pretending it didn't mean anything.

And fuck him, most of all for never wearing a condom when it came to you.

Your legs shook as you sat on the edge of the bed, his cum dripping down your thigh. The room still smelled like sweat, sex, and Heeseung—faint cologne mixed with something distinctly him. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, fingers clutching the sheets as you glared at him.

"I told you not to cum inside me," you snapped.

Heeseung, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, only grinned as he reached for you, spreading your legs with ease. He looked down, watching the way your swollen cunt twitched, still messy from him.

"I always thought you weren't the type to let that happen," you muttered, frustration bubbling in your chest. "I heard you always wear a condom with other girls."

His smirk deepened. "Maybe you're not like other girls."

Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made your heart stumble, made you want to believe you were different even when you knew better.

Before you could snap back, Heeseung licked his lips, then slowly, wiped the mess between your legs with a towel.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the rough fabric making you flinch. "I told you to take a pill," he murmured, his voice half-amused, half-serious.

Your glare hardened. "Fuck you? You're the one who needs to adjust, bitch. If I get pregnant—"

He cut you off smoothly, not even blinking. "It won't be a problem." He looked at you, "I'm ready to be a father, babe."

Your whole body locked up. What?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you raised your hand to slap his shoulder. He laughed, dodging easily, catching your wrist in his grip before kissing your knuckles.

"You're so cute when you get mad," he teased, leaning in, his lips barely brushing against yours.

Your heart stupidly skipped a beat. He kissed you again, as if this wasn't just another night of mistakes.

"I'll buy you Plan B tomorrow," he murmured against your lips.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling against his chest.

Was it casual?

Fuck him for ghosting you after spending the whole weekend in his bed.

You stared at your phone, fingers tightening around the device like you could crush it, like that would somehow erase the ache in your chest. The message you sent two days ago still sat there, unread. Or maybe it was read, and he just didn't care enough to reply.

And screw you—screw you for being so fucking stupid. For always checking your notifications like some pathetic, desperate girl waiting for scraps of attention. For letting your heart lurch every time your phone vibrated, only to sink when it wasn't him.

"Just get over him already," your friend sighed, sipping her iced coffee as she leaned back against the café booth. "He's not worth it."

How could you?

How could you just get over the way he kissed your forehead in the middle of the night, the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, like he needed you there? How could you forget his sweet smile, his stupid Bambi eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something special only to turn around and act like you didn't exist?

And screw you—screw you for being a fucking loser.

And that's why you were here, drowning in cheap alcohol, trying to forget him.

"God, I really need a drink." You muttered, rubbing your temple as the bass of the club pulsed through your skull.

Your friend side-eyed you, unimpressed. "It's fucking Wednesday, babe. Middle of the week. Calm your ass down."

You ignored her, slamming back another shot.

"Fuck Lee Heeseung!" you suddenly shouted, voice slurred, drawing a few stares from nearby tables.

Legs swaying, balance unsteady, you barely noticed when someone grabbed your waist, steadying you before you could fall flat on your face.

A familiar grip. A familiar presence.

Your blurry vision focused just enough to make out the sharp jawline, the messy dark hair, the annoyingly pretty face you spent too much time thinking about.

"Ohhh, it's you—Lee Heeseung!" You pointed at him, laughing. "What ya doin' here?"

His jaw ticked, eyes dark as they scanned over you, your messy hair, smudged lipstick, a dress that rode up dangerously high on your thighs.

"I'm here to pick your drunk ass up." His voice was flat and irritated, but his hold on you was steady. He slid your arm over his shoulder, gripping your waist tighter as he started leading you toward the exit.

You let him, but only because walking felt impossible. Then, with a giggle, you leaned in, breath warm against his skin. "Ohhh, was it casual for you to pick me up at 3 AM because I'm sooo drunk?"

Your voice was teasing, but underneath it, it hurt.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around your waist for a brief second before loosening again.

"Shut up." His voice was quieter now. "Let's go."

"No!" You ripped your arm from his grasp, stumbling back, your vision spinning.

"Why are you always like this, Heeseung?" Your voice cracked, but you didn't care. You jabbed a finger into his chest. "You fuck me on the weekends, make me feel like I actually matter, and then act like I don't exist after? You cuddle me, you kiss me, you hold me like—like I mean something! And then suddenly, you're back to being a complete dick?!"

You let out a bitter laugh, raising both middle fingers at him. "Fuck you! You couldn't even text me. Couldn't even take me out on a proper fucking date. What am I to you, huh?"

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a scoff.

"Is that the reason you got yourself wasted here?" His voice dripped with condescension, his lips curling in amusement like this was all some fucking joke to him. "Because I didn't text you? That's pathetic."

His words stung more than they should have. Your nails dug into your palms.

"Why do you even care about how I act?" he continued, "We're not even together, so you don't get to tell me what to do or what not to do."

You stared at him, breath shaky, chest tight. "Not together." The words felt like poison in your mouth. "Right. That's your excuse for treating me like shit, huh?"

His eyes flickered but his face remained impassive, like he wasn't affected at all.

"I never made you any promises. You're not getting attached, are you? I just want to fuck you." he said simply, and somehow, that hurt the most.

Your throat burned. Fucking bastard.

"Right," you whispered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. Your nails dug into your palms so hard it hurt. "So I guess I was just some easy fuck to you, then?"

His expression didn't change, not even a flicker of guilt. His gaze swept over you lazily, bored, like he was already done with this conversation.

You could feel your resolve crumbling.

You wanted to slap him, to scream in his face, to put a fucking ax in his head for being such a heartless asshole, but you never did.

"You know what, Heeseung?" You took a step back, blinking away the sting in your eyes. "I actually thought—fuck, I actually thought you gave a shit about me." You let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't, do you? You never did."

"God, I was so fucking stupid." You wiped at your face angrily. "Waiting for you to text me back like an idiot, hoping that maybe—maybe this time, it meant something." Your voice wavered, but you kept going. "But nah, right? It's just sex. Just another girl warming your bed. Just another weekend before you move on to the next."

"Fucking say something, Heeseung!" you snapped, stepping closer, shoving his chest. He didn't even budge. He just looked down at you, dark eyes blank.

And then he spoke. "What do you want me to say?" His voice was low. "You knew what this was. I never lied to you. Whatever what's happening between us, it's just casual fuck."

Your stomach twisted. Right, casual.

"Fuck you." Your voice cracked.

You turned your back on him, forcing yourself to walk away, each step heavier than the last.

And the worst part was he didn't even follow you.

No "wait." No "don't go." No "I'm sorry."

Just silence.

The street felt too empty, the cold night air biting at your skin, but nothing compared to the hollowness settling deep in your chest. You had thought, no, you had hoped—that maybe Heeseung saw you as more.

But he didn't, because Heeseung wasn't the kind of guy to need anyone. Not the way you needed him.

And you were done.

You were going to free yourself from this. No more late-night texts that made your stomach flip. No more rearranging your plans just to see him. No more pretending that his touches meant something when, in reality, they meant nothing.

You weren't going to be his puppy, following him around, saying yes to every last-minute "come over" text like some desperate loser.

You were leaving.

Right.

...

So why was it so fucking hard?

Why, after days of stubborn silence, after forcing yourself not to check your phone, were you back here again?

Why were you in his fucking passenger seat, his fingers buried inside you, his mouth pressed between your thighs, making you fall apart like the past week never even happened?

And why did it still feel so fucking good?

You hated this, you hated him and you hated yourself more.

"That's it, baby. Moan for me." Heeseung groaned against your soaked folds, his voice were dripping with hunger. His hands were everywhere, one gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open, the other palming your breast, his thumb lazily flicking over your nipple.

It felt so good, so maddeningly good, and that made you want to fucking cry.

"More—please, please." Your voice came out breathless, a plea wrapped in desperation.

Heeseung let out a low groan against your cunt, the vibration sending another shudder down your spine. "Can't get enough of you," he muttered, voice wrecked, and needy but you knew better than to believe it.

Because Heeseung never needed anyone.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, teasing strokes before dragging it down, tracing messy patterns over your entrance.

Then his fingers. His hand slid down, tracing along your slit before thrusting inside suddenly, stretching you open, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your legs tremble.

"Fuck—Heeseung!" You gasped, hips bucking, your back arching off the seat.

He was too good at this, too good at knowing your body, too good at making you fall apart, too good at breaking you down piece by piece until you forgot why you were mad, why you ever wanted to leave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers twisting at the roots as your legs shook. Heeseung groaned at the sting of your pull, pushing his fingers deeper, his tongue working faster, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Heeseung," you whined, voice high, breathless. "Getting close—please—"

And this was why you kept coming back. Because he knew you. Knew your body. Knew exactly how to ruin you.

Because the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he fucked you—it felt too real.

Heeseung was right. He never made you any promises, never gave you any reason to believe this was something more than sex.

You were just a dumb, stupid girl who kept misreading his actions. Who kept thinking she was special. But you weren't.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, despite the anger twisting in your chest, your fucking heart fluttered when he pulled himself up, his lips crashing into yours while his fingers still worked inside you. And you hated it.

Hated how he kissed you so slow.

Hated how he moved his fingers just right, drawing out every last wave of pleasure, dragging out your orgasm until you were crying against his mouth.

Hated how he made it feel intimate—

And hated yourself the most. Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times he ghosted you, ignored you, acted like you were nothing.

You knew you'd still come back.

Like a fucking idiot.

And you really were stupid. Because after everything, after the nights he spent inside you, after the way he kissed you, Heeseung was still the same.

Still cocky. Still stupidly attractive as he leaned against the lockers in the university hallway, a lazy smirk on his lips, talking to some girl. Did it shock you? No. Did it hurt? Absolutely.

The lump in your throat grew heavier. You forced yourself to walk past him, shoulders stiff, steps quick—like he was nothing to you. Like last night, when he had you moaning his name in his passenger seat, never happened.

But he didn't even look at you, didn't glance up, didn't acknowledge you.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you swallowed the sting.

Because that's what you were, right? Nothing.

Not his girlfriend. Not someone he cared about. Just another name on his list, another girl who meant nothing the second he zipped up his jeans.

And yet, you still hated the way your stomach twisted when the girl he was talking to giggled, leaning in closer. Hated the way he smirked, tilting his head like he was already picturing her naked. The same way he did to you.

Your chest ached.

You felt the bed shift, the mattress sinking under his weight. Then, warm hands—his hands—sliding over your waist, fingers pressing against your bare skin.

Soft lips ghosted along your neck.

"Who the fuck let you in?" Your voice was flat, uninterested, even as your grip on your phone tightened. You didn't turn to face him.

"Natty."

You scoffed. "Ha. I doubt it."

"Swear on my life, baby." Heeseung's voice was low, teasing, the way it always was when he wanted something.

You laughed, sarcastic.

"Missed you," he whined, arms tightening around you, his tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive skin just below your ear. That spot he knew drove you crazy.

"What happened to the girl you were talking to yesterday?" you asked, voice dripping in bitterness.  "Couldn't get into her pants?"

Heeseung laughed, his hands slipped under your shirt, palms gliding up your stomach, his breath hitching when he realized—

"Fuck, no bra?" He cursed under his breath, squeezing your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.

Your body arch, you hated it, but still reacted.

"Nah," he continued, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "Just... nothing compared to you."

You almost wanted to choke him, but instead, you swallowed the frustration bubbling in your chest and forced your voice to stay steady.

"Your sister told me you should come home this weekend." You changed the topic, ignoring his fingers still lazily squeezing your chest.

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh against your neck, completely unfazed.

"Huh? You guys always talk." He sounded amused, like this was cute to him.

You rolled your eyes. "Because you're not replying to their messages. Your mom worries about you."

His hands didn't stop. Of course, they didn't, he was still kneading, still playing with you, his thumbs rolling slow, lazy circles over your nipples as if you weren't trying to have a serious conversation.

He hummed in response, shifting slightly to lie back against your bed, tugging you against his chest.

"Hmm, okay." He finally said, completely casual.

You swallowed, your heart thudding stupidly at the way he pulled you in, the way he tucked you against him.

"Want to come with me?"

Your breath hitched. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him over your shoulder. A small smirk tugging at his lips as if he was already expecting your reaction.

Wide eyes, stupidly hopeful heart. Fucking idiot.

"Why?"

Heeseung's fingers trailed down your stomach, dipping just under the waistband of your shorts, making your breath hitch.

"What do you mean why?" he murmured, lips brushing against your shoulder. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling into the bedsheets.

"Right," you muttered, looking away. "Just fun."

And of course, you still said yes. Because who wouldn't want an instant vacation?

At least, that's what you told yourself. That this was just a trip. Just an escape. Not another excuse to be near Heeseung. Not another way to keep fooling yourself.

So you ignored the nagging in your chest, ignored the way he carried your bag.

Ignored how fucking easy it was to slip into the illusion of being his as both of you stepped into the small, cozy house.

The moment the door swung open, a woman who looked exactly like him rushed forward, eyes bright, a tearful smile on her face.

"I missed you, my boy!" She practically tackled Heeseung, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that even he seemed a little surprised.

He scoffed but hugged her back, his usual lazy smirk softening just a little. "Ma, I told you I was gonna visit soon. Tell Haneul to stop bothering us."

You blinked, shifting awkwardly as the woman, his mother, finally pulled back, wiping at the corner of her eyes before her gaze fell on you.

And before you could react, she hugged you, too.

Your whole body stiffened. What the fuck.

"You must be the girl Haneul keeps talking about," she said warmly, stepping back just enough to study your face. "Is Heeseung treating you right?"

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You had no idea how to respond to that.

Your eyes flickered to Heeseung, who had already dropped both of your bags onto the couch, watching you with a raised brow, completely unbothered.

You swallowed, forcing out a tight, awkward laugh. "We're not actually together, madam." You admitted, your voice stiff, uncertain.

His mother blinked, the warmth in her eyes faltering just slightly. "Oh."

You could feel Heeseung's eyes on you, but you didn't dare look at him. Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest.

And then, his mother smiled. Soft. Knowing. "I see."

You spent your days with his family wearing a smile, pretending it didn't hurt to exist in this space that wasn't really yours.

His sister, Haneul, was a breath of fresh air—constantly chattering about life, relationships, and the latest dramas, seamlessly pulling you into conversations that felt easy. She told you how glad she was that you were here, that someone like you was easy to talk to, unlike her emotionally constipated brother.

"Heeseung doesn't get it," she had said with a playful eye roll, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I swear, he's impossible to talk to sometimes. But you... I can tell you actually listen."

Her words made something warm stir in your chest.

His mother, on the other hand, couldn't stop talking about him—stories of him as a child, wild and reckless, stubborn and free.

"You should've seen him," she laughed, eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Always climbing trees, always getting himself into trouble. One time, he fell and scraped up his entire knee, but do you think he cried? No. He just looked at me and said, 'It doesn't hurt, Ma,' even though his leg was bleeding like crazy."

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid boy still complains like hell when he stubs his toe, though."

You laughed along, your chest tightening as you glanced at Heeseung, waiting to see how he would react to their teasing. But he only sighed, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

Later, at the sea, you sat on the warm sand, toes buried in the grains, watching the waves crash against the shore, but your eyes weren't on the water. They were on him.

Heeseung was playing with his younger cousins, his laughter echoing through the salty air as he ran across the sand, chasing after them with an easy, boyish grin you had never seen before.

His usual cocky, indifferent mask was gone. No teasing smirks, no smug glances, no careless words designed to keep you at a distance.

You watched as he scooped up one of the kids, tossing them playfully over his shoulder while they shrieked in laughter. Heeseung's eyes crinkled at the corners, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he spun them around before dropping them gently back onto the sand.

He was so different.

This version of him—the one who smiled without arrogance, who laughed without restraint, who looked so effortlessly warm was a version you had never been allowed to see before.

Then, as if feeling your stare, his gaze flicked up to meet yours.

Your breath caught. His lips curled into a familiar smirk, the mask slipping back into place, and suddenly, he was walking toward you.

Your pulse spiked.

Oh, fuck no.

You scrambled to stand, to put distance between you before he could ruin you any further, but you had barely taken two steps when strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you off the ground.

"Heeseung!" you shrieked, kicking your feet as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip firm.

He laughed, breath warm against your ear. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

Your stomach twisted. You should be mad—and you were—but the way he held you, the way he pressed his forehead against your temple as he spun you around, made some feeling of deep inside you crumble.

"Put me down, you asshole!" You squirmed, trying to sound pissed, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your ribs.

But Heeseung only grinned, holding you tighter.

"Not a chance, baby."

As the days of your so-called vacation slipped by, you found yourself in Heeseung's bed, again, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting shadows across his face.

Both of you lay tangled in the sheets, talking, laughing about nothing, about everything.

You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding a little too fast, stomach twisting a little too tight.

Was it casual for the both of you to stay up until 4 AM, talking shit about the people you hated, exchanging knowing glances as you made fun of your professors, the fake smiles of people you both barely tolerated?

Was it casual to hear him laugh—really laugh—not that cocky, arrogant chuckle, but softer?

Was it casual that he traced lazy patterns on your bare thigh while he talked?

One second, you were talking. The next, his lips were on yours.

What was supposed to be one last fuck before sleep turned into something more, something too much. The way he touched you was different tonight, his fingers coaxing sounds from you you didn't even recognize as your own. The way he fucked you was relentless, teasing, overwhelming, pushing you past your limits until you squirted until you were too tired to move, too weak to even change the sheets.

So you stayed there. In the mess of it all.

The damp sheets clinging to your skin, the scent of sex still lingering in the air, the weight of him pressed against you.

His arms draped lazily around your waist, pulling you close. His head resting on your chest, his breath warm, steady, as he slept so soundly—like he didn't just ruin you all over again. Like this wasn't killing you inside.

You lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the way his fingers twitched in his sleep, the way his breathing hitched slightly before evening out again.

On the last day of your stay, the two of you sat at Heeseung's childhood hideout—a small, secluded clearing behind his house, nestled between overgrown trees and old memories he never talked about. The sky was dark, the moon barely peeking through the leaves, and the only sounds were the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crackle of burning cigarettes between your fingers.

Heeseung exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his head tilted back.

"I hate my father for always shouting," he muttered.

You watched the cigarette between your fingers, tapping off the ash, not saying anything. Just listening.

"My mother always tolerated him. Always crying, always forcing a smile, pretending he didn't just spit the ugliest words at her."

You nodded, silent, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

"She wasn't any better, though." He let out a humorless chuckle, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "I love her, but I can't fucking stand how she talks about everything I should be doing. Like I'm still some little kid who needs to be told how to live my life."

You took a drag, the bitter taste settling heavy on your tongue.

"That's why I'm not fond of visiting this place."

You hummed, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly as he took another drag, like this conversation was pulling things out of him he wasn't used to sharing.

"Your sister misses you, y'know." You finally spoke, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "She told me she kinda hates you for leaving her alone."

That made him pause. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing, before he shook his head with a laugh, blowing out another cloud. "God, I forgot you two are close."

You smiled faintly. "We always talk on the phone. She said she found me through some Facebook post where your arms were around me. She probably assumed we were friends and added me. Then the first thing she messaged me was, 'Tell your ugly-ass boyfriend to text me, or I'm disowning him.'"

Heeseung let out a real laugh at that, shaking his head. "She actually called me an ugly dick once."

"She's not wrong." You snickered, inhaling the last of your cigarette before pulling it away. "Shit, that fast?" You huffed, flicking away the short remains.

"Come try mine."

Before you could react, Heeseung took one last drag, then leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers warm against your skin.

You froze as his face came closer, his lips parting slightly, and then he exhaled.

The smoke passed between you, warm and heady, sinking into your lungs as your lips hovered inches from his.

His nose bumped yours, eyes dark and lidded.

Your mouth opened, your lips brushing against his, and then he kissed you. Tilting his head, as he deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, tasting of smoke.

As you broke the kiss, your fingers ghosted over his, plucking the cigarette from his grasp. You kept your eyes locked on his, refusing to look away.

You took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle in your lungs before exhaling, the faint haze lingering between you.

"I love you, Heeseung."

The words left your mouth, and you don't miss the way his smile faltered.

"Not just love that wants to fuck." Your grip on the cigarette tightened. "I want to date you. Take me on a date. Buy me flowers. Be my boyfriend."

Heeseung just stared at you.

"Let's go back," he said with no hesitation, no acknowledgment, like you hadn't just laid your heart out in front of him.

He stood up, grabbing your hand as if nothing had happened, pulling you up without meeting your eyes.

"Heeseung, I love you." Your voice was firmer now, but he walked faster, avoiding it, avoiding you.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled around his wrist, trying to stop him from running away.

"Heeseung, I said I love you." You said it louder this time, forcing him to hear it, forcing him to acknowledge the words that hung between you.

Heeseung let out a sharp exhale, pushing the house door open.

His parents looked up as you both entered, his mother smiling sweetly.

"Oh, I was just about to cook your favorite—" she started.

"I'm gonna go shower," he cut her off, already heading toward the stairs.

"Okay, come down after," his mother replied, still warm, still gentle, still unaware of the way her son was running from you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile at them before following him upstairs, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Heeseung entered his room without a word, shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt. You watched as he stripped without hesitation, his toned back flexing before he disappeared into the bathroom.

"Heeseung, say something." Your voice cracked.

He turned on the shower, stepping under the stream of water, not even looking at you as he finally spoke.

"I'm gonna take a bath. It's either you leave—" He finally turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, "—or I'll be fucking you."

Your breath caught. There it was.

The only thing he could offer you.

Your fingers trembled at your sides. The ache in your chest was unbearable, clawing at your ribs, threatening to break you apart.

You should leave, you should. You should turn around, walk out, let this be the moment you finally let him go.

Your vision blurred. You felt the hot sting of tears slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

Fuck it.

Before you could think, before you could let the pain settle, you reached for the hem of your shirt, tearing it over your head. Then your shorts, your underwear—every piece of clothing stripped away, tossed carelessly onto the floor.

When you looked up, Heeseung was staring.

The steam from the shower curled around him, water sliding down his bare chest, dripping from his hair. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you.

You stepped forward, your skin meeting the warmth of the bathroom air, your bare feet silent against the tile. Heeseung didn't move, didn't pull away as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.

His skin was hot, wet from the water, his breath shaky as your lips brushed against his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers slipping into his damp hair as you tugged him down, your lips brushing over his, soft at first, then deeper, and needier.

Your toes curled against the cool tile, your body tilting, stretching to reach him, but he was too fucking tall.

He let out a quiet chuckle at your struggle, hands sliding down to your waist, gripping tight as he adjusted, leaning lower to meet you, kissing you back.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his tongue tangled with yours, deep and slow, tasting of heat. Your body burned as his hands roamed freely.

His fingers slid up, trailing to your breasts, squeezing, kneading, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, arching against him.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his hardened cock, stroking him slowly.

Heeseung groaned, his grip on your breast tightening for a moment before his head dropped against your shoulder, breath heavy, unsteady.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips twitching slightly into your touch.

Your lips curled, satisfied, pressing kisses along his jawline, teasing nips along his skin. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, the way his breathing hitched as you kissed your way lower, lower.

Until you were kneeling in front of him. Face to face with his cock, thick and throbbing, precum already dripping from the flushed tip.

His hand curled into your hair, you look at him with your eyes before slowly putting his tip on your mouth. Then, slowly, you parted your lips, letting the flushed tip press against your tongue before taking him into your mouth.

Heeseung groaned, his grip tightening, his hips giving a slight, involuntary jerk forward as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper. The warm water from the shower dripped over both of you, rivulets sliding down his abs, over the flex of his thighs.

Your tongue dragged along his shaft, tracing every ridge, every vein, before pressing flat against the underside as you swallowed him further. His breath came out in a shudder, his jaw clenched as he watched you—watched the way your lips stretched around him, the way you let him slide deeper, let him use your mouth the way he wanted.

His hips began to move, slow at first, then rougher.

"Fuck—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice wrecked as you took all of him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choked, eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away.

One of your hands slipped between your own legs, fingers pressing against your aching cunt, rubbing slow circles over your clit as you lost yourself in the mix of pain and pleasure.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered down, and the sight of you touching yourself while sucking his cock had his restraint snapping.

"Shit, you’re too good for me." His voice was nothing but a rough whisper, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting tile.

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, forcing you to take all of him, tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. He stopped suddenly, backing away. 

You gasped for air, lips swollen, throat raw. But before you could process the loss, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet.

Your back hit the cold, slippery wall as he spun you around, his chest pressing flush against you, trapping you there.

The heat between you was suffocating.

You moaned as his cock slid between your thighs, not inside you yet—just teasing, just rubbing against your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. He moved slow, dragging himself along your entrance, letting you feel every inch before he pushed in. 

You gasped, your nails scraping against the wet tile as he filled you completely, stretching you, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you still as he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

"Fuck—" Heeseung panted against your shoulder, his breath hot, ragged, his body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He started slow—savoring it, dragging it out, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate strokes that had you clenching around him, your legs trembling.

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, needier, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your ragged moans. Your knees buckled, your body going weak, but his arm wrapped around you before you could collapse, pulling you closer.

Then, without warning, he hooked one arm under your thigh, lifting your leg, changing the angle.

You cried out his name, your head falling back against his shoulder as he slammed into you deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"You sound so good moaning my name—fuck—but keep quiet for me, baby, hmm?" Heeseung whispered against your ear.

You tried to muffle your moans, biting your lip so hard you nearly drew blood.

But when his hand slid up, fingers tweaking your nipple, and his other hand dipped lower to rub slow, cruel circles over your clit, you couldn’t hold back.

"C-close," you choked out, pressing your forehead against the wall, your body tightening around him. "Can I? Please, please—"

His fingers moved faster, his thrusts turning relentless, dragging you to the edge.

"Shh," he hushed, his free hand moving from your breast to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling violently as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls fluttering around him as you came hard, legs shaking.

But Heeseung didn’t stop.

He spun you around effortlessly, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the wall, thrusting up into you with reckless abandon.

You were whimpering, your body too sensitive, but the way his cock hit all the right spots had you falling apart all over again.

"Fuck, take it," Heeseung groaned, his grip on your hips bruising.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

Your hands slid into his wet hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pushed it back, forcing yourself to look at him.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his lips parted as he moaned your name.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, forcing his gaze onto you.

So close. So yours.

Then, with a sharp gasp, his hips stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside you.

And as your walls tightened around him once more, dragging him over the edge, his mouth met yours in a desperate, messy kiss, swallowing each other’s moans as he spilled inside you.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts faltering, his body shuddering as he rode out his high.

You stayed close for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync.

Heeseung let out a soft exhale before slowly lowering your feet to the ground, his hands slipping from your body.

You blinked up at him, searching for something, anything, in his face. But he was already turning away, reaching for the soap, brushing his hands over his own body as if nothing had just happened.

A pang of disappointment settled deep in your chest.

Your thighs trembled, his release still dripping out of you, and without thinking, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him so he wouldn’t slip away. 

But he froze.

And then—slowly, carefully, he peeled your arms off of him.

Your throat tightened. Heeseung didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. Instead, he grabbed the soap again, rubbing it between his palms before sliding his hands over your body, cleaning you.

You wanted to say something. Wanted to break through whatever invisible wall had gone up between you.

But the only sound was the running water, washing everything away.

That night, you sat beside Haneul at dinner, forcing a smile, forcing yourself to act normal even though everything inside you was crumbling.

Heeseung didn’t look at you. Instead, he shoveled rice into his mouth, nodding along as his parents talked.

You forced yourself to eat, each bite turning to sawdust in your mouth. Forced yourself to laugh at his father’s jokes. Forced yourself to swallow the bitterness burning in your throat.

And when it was time to leave, Haneul hugged you tightly, her shoulders shaking as she clung to you.

"I’m gonna miss you so much," she sniffled, pressing her face into your shoulder.

You hugged her back, blinking rapidly, trying not to cry too.

You felt so loved in this house—by everyone except the one person you wanted it from the most.

The train ride back was worse.

Heeseung sat beside you, but he never looked at you.

It was like you were nothing more than a stranger sitting next to him.

You swallowed the ache in your chest and slowly lifted your hand, brushing your fingers over his.

His eyes flickered down, annoyance flashing across his face as he pulled his hand away as if your touch burned him.

You felt your stomach drop, you turned your head, staring out the window, your fingers curling into your lap as you fought the stupid tears stinging the back of your eyes.

But at least you confessed, right? At least you let your feelings slip through the cracks. As long as Heeseung kept coming back to you, it had to mean something.

Right?

The following days were harder.

Because you were the one who kept coming back.

You were the one who kept bothering him, knocking on his door late at night, spreading your legs for him just so he would let you stay.

You were the one whispering soft "I love yous" against his skin, hoping and praying he’d say it back.

But he never did. And every time you tried to reach for him, tried to hold him, tried to kiss him just because, not just when he was fucking you—he would sigh, irritated, pulling away with that same tired look in his eyes.

"Go bother someone else."

But you still stayed. Because you told yourself that this was enough. That loving him, even like this, was enough. That if you gave him more time, if you loved him hard enough, he would eventually love you back.

But then again, why did it feel so awful?

So fucking awful knowing that he was only good to you when he wanted something?

So fucking awful when you reached for him, only to be pushed away?

So fucking awful when he sighed every time you whispered "I love you," like you had ruined the moment?

You kept crying at night.

At first, it was quiet—silent tears soaking into your pillow, muffled sobs that you convinced yourself were just temporary. But the more the days stretched on, the worse it got. The exhaustion, the emptiness, the way everything felt so fucking heavy.

You were barely sleeping, barely eating.

By the time you dragged yourself to class, you were nothing more than a walking corpse—a ghost of yourself, barely functioning, barely holding it together.

Julie and Natty tried to pull you out of it. They dragged you to cafés, talked about mindless things, gossiped about the latest drama, hoping it would distract you.

But nothing worked. Your mind was always somewhere else. On him.

And when that didn’t help, when you couldn’t sit still in a crowded café pretending you weren’t falling apart, you found yourself outside. Leaning against a streetlamp, standing in the corner of an alley, a cigarette dangling from your lips as you smoked, staring blankly at the city around you.

You had never been much of a smoker before, but now, it was routine. Now, it was something to do when you didn’t know what else to do.

Because Heeseung wasn’t in his dorm. Because Heeseung wasn’t texting you back.

You stared at your phone, debating whether or not to message him again—just one more time, just to see where he was, just to make sure he wasn’t with someone else.

But you already knew the answer. Sunghoon told you he had been partying. Of course, he was.

Drinking, dancing, probably fucking someone else, living his best fucking life while you were here, wasting away in your own misery.

You were miserable, weren’t you? Pathetic.

In love with a guy who never gave a shit about you, who only saw you as another body count—another name in his phone.

Fuck him.

"You need to get over this, babe," Julie said, dragging you into the mall, her fingers gripping your wrist like you might try to run.

"Stop acting like your whole life revolves around some asshole." Natty huffed, shoving a pile of clothes into your arms. "Try something new. Get a haircut. Get a piercing. Do something instead of moping around like this."

So you did.

You let them drag you from store to store, let them pick out outfits you barely looked at. You even sat through a piercing appointment, letting them stab metal into your skin—a new helix, a capital piercing, even one in your septum.

But none of it helped. Not really.

You still looked like someone who had stopped caring.

Your hair had grown wavier, messier, tangled from nights spent tossing and turning in a bed that still smelled like him. Your makeup was smudged from crying too much, sleeping too little.

And now—here you were. Sitting in a restroom stall, your fingers fumbling with another cigarette, the cold metal of your piercings pressing against your skin as you exhaled shakily, trying not to break down again.

But the tears came anyway. You curled over yourself, palm covering your face, inhaling deep, shaky breaths as the nicotine burned down your throat. Why him? Why did you let yourself get so lost in someone who only reached for you when it was convenient?

Why did you still miss him even now?

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to push the thoughts away—

"Okay, okay, I'll send you the links we need to order. Stop being stupid and listen to me! It’s a birthday party, okay? Not a damn Halloween—God."

Your head snapped up. A voice that is sharp and masculine. Wait—

Did you just walk into the men’s restroom?

"Agh, what the fuck, it reeks of cigarettes in here."

Your stomach dropped. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to put out the cigarette as quickly as possible, waving away the lingering smoke. The last thing you needed was some random guy judging you for being an emotional wreck in the bathroom.

You waited, listening as you tap your foot at the ground silently.

When silence stretched, you assumed he was gone.

But the second you stepped out of the stall— You froze.

And so did he.

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, was a guy you had never seen before. His dark hair was down, strands still damp from the rain outside. His skin was pale, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. His nose was sharp, lips plump and pink, his hooded eyes watching you with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, his gaze flickered to the restroom sign by the door. Then back to you.

He grabbed a napkin, drying his hands before picking up his phone, ending the call mid-conversation. "Are you a trans man?"

Your face burned. "No!" You blurted out quickly, biting your lip in embarrassment. "I—I’m sorry, I thought this was the female restroom, and—uh—sorry about the smell."

The guy in front of you let out a small, amused hum, his lips twitching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he dug through his bag, fingers searching for something until he finally pulled out a small candy, offering it to you with an outstretched palm.

"Here. Eat this."

You blinked, staring at him.

"Not judging or anything," he continued, shrugging, "but cigarettes smell disgusting in your mouth. What if there’s an emergency and you need to kiss someone?"

A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"There’s no someone," you muttered, taking the candy from his hand. The moment it touched your tongue, the sharp sweetness cut through the bitter taste of nicotine.

The guy tilted his head, watching you with a slight smirk before rummaging through his bag again. A second later, he held out a small travel-sized bottle.

"You need perfume?"

You frowned. "Do I smell that bad?"

"Hey, I’m just offering," he said, grinning.

You sighed but took it anyway, spraying a little on your wrist before rubbing it against your neck. The light, citrusy scent replaced the stale stench of smoke.

Both of you walked out of the restroom together, passing by an older man who had been about to step inside. The second he saw you, his eyes widened in horror, and he muttered something under his breath while making the sign of the cross.

"God forgive these teens," the old man whispered, shaking his head as he entered the restroom.

The guy beside you rolled his eyes. "Drama queen."

You laughed, and he turned his head slightly, studying your face.

"See you later," he muttered before walking away, but then he hesitated for just a second, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Oh, and don’t smoke."

Soon enough, you were right back where you always were.

In his dorm. In his bed. In his arms, like nothing had changed.

The second you saw Heeseung, you collapsed onto his bed, clinging to him, hugging him tight like you hadn’t been falling apart for the past few days.

"Where have you been?" you asked, burying your face into his chest.

You felt his body shift slightly as he looked down at you, eyes scanning your face.

"What happened to you?" 

His gaze flickered to the piercings on your ears, your new septum, the slight dark circles beneath your eyes that no amount of concealer could fully hide.

Suddenly, you felt exposed. "O-oh," you stammered, reaching up to tug at your hair. "I got piercings… out of boredom. Do they look good?"

Then, Heeseung’s eyes dropped back to his phone, completely ignoring your question.

The air shifted. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. So, instead, you talked. Told him about the past few days, about nothing and everything, about all the things you wished he had cared enough to ask.

And just like always—it ended the same way.

Him, thrusting into you like he needed you to break.

Your nails, clawing at his back like you needed to hold on.

Your legs, wrapped around his waist like you were scared he would disappear if you let go.

Your body, begging for something your heart already knew you would never have.

"I love you," you whispered into his ear, voice trembling, breath shaky.

Heeseung’s movements slowed for half a second. You held onto that second like it meant something.

"You know it’s not just casual for me," you whispered again, pressing your lips to his shoulder, desperate for him to understand. "I feel it. I know you do too."

And then he slipped his hand away from your body. The loss of warmth was instant.

"Fuck, here we go again," Heeseung muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.

You swallowed, suddenly cold, suddenly empty. "Did you really not feel anything?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "How do you keep coming back if it’s nothing?"

He ran a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

"God, because your pussy is good!" His voice snapped, cruel, piercing straight through you. "You’re being so fucking clingy, it’s pathetic! I don’t want a fucking romantic relationship with you! I just want to fuck! How long are you gonna make me repeat that?!"

"What about the times we cuddle?" Your voice cracked. "The way you take care of me after? You even invited me to meet your family! Was that all just—casual? Just fucking?! How long are you going to deny this?!"

Heeseung’s eyes flashed. "Deny?!" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Do you think any of that was special? I was just treating you with basic fucking human decency! Stop being so fucking delusional!"

The words hit harder than a slap. This was dumb love. This was pathetic love.

This was you, being fucking stupid.

Because even after all this, even after every horrible thing he had just said you still loved him.

And he still treated you the same.

"Fuck, I miss those days that you were feisty and wild, not this annoying bitch who cry about everything."

Your vision blurred. You barely felt yourself move as you ripped yourself from his bed, scrambling to collect your clothes, your hands shaking so violently you could barely pull your shirt over your head.

You just needed to leave. Needed to breathe.

By the time you reached the door, your entire body was numb.

The only sound was the sharp echo of your footsteps against the floor as you stormed out of his dorm, not daring to look back.

Sunghoon was in the kitchen when you passed, leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. His head lifted slightly at the sight of you—disheveled, eyes red, breathing uneven.

You ran. Ran until your lungs burned, until the cold air stung your skin, until the only thing you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps against the empty streets.

And then you screamed loudly, kicking a nearby trash can with all your strength, watching as it toppled over, spilling its contents onto the pavement.

You wanted to rip yourself apart. Wanted to tear out the part of you that still loved him.

By the time you stumbled into a small convenience store, your body was trembling—anger, exhaustion, heartbreak—it all blurred into one.

You didn’t even look at the shelves. Your hands reached straight for the pack of cigarettes, slamming it onto the counter.

"Not getting anything else, ma’am?"

The voice made you freeze. Your gaze lifted, meeting a pair of soft, knowing eyes behind the register.

Oh.

The same guy from before. The one who had given you candy in the restroom.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag.

Sunoo.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, your throat dry. "You told me not to smoke, but here I am buying." You forced a smile, but it felt fake, and hollow.

Sunoo didn’t look judgmental. He just tilted his head slightly, watching you.

"It’s okay." He shrugged. "It’s not healthy, but if that’s what you need to cope, then let yourself be. I just said that before because, well… I don’t think smoking is good for you."

You let out a small breath, setting the pack aside. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Sunoo hummed, tapping his chin in thought. "Maybe cutting your hair? Adding another piercing? Listening to music, crocheting, doing your makeup, reading books, watching movies—there’s a lot you could do instead."

You blinked. "You really think cutting my hair is gonna fix this mess?" You gestured vaguely at yourself.

"No," he said, grinning. "But it’s a start."

You laughed. It was small, and short. You reached for a pack of bubble gum instead, placing it on the counter. "I’ll take note of that. Just punch this in instead."

Sunoo smiled, ringing up your item. "I’m Sunoo, by the way. If you ever need someone to talk to, I can give you my number."

You hesitated. And then you pulled out your phone. Because God knows you needed it.

Turns out, Sunoo was one year younger than you—a sophomore at your university, but an irregular student, which explained why you had never crossed paths before.

And somehow, in the span of a few weeks, he became the one person you could be completely honest with. You told him everything. Everything about Heeseung.

How you loved him stupidly, blindly, recklessly. How he used you, broke you, ignored you but you still kept coming back.

Sunoo never judged. Never told you you were dumb for loving the wrong person. He just listened. And when you cried, he let you.

Sometimes, he would visit your dorm just to sit with you, listening as you let it all out.

You tried not to feel guilty about dumping all your burdens on him, but every time you apologized, he just waved you off.

"It’s fine," he said, "I’d rather listen than see you destroy yourself over someone who doesn’t deserve you."

And maybe that’s what finally pushed you forward. What finally gave you the courage to do what you should’ve done a long time ago.

You blocked Heeseung’s number.

At first, it made your chest feel tight, like you had just slammed a door shut on something that had been part of you for too long.

But as the days passed, the feeling of relief started to outweigh the ache.

You even made a bigger decision.

You moved. Packed up your things and transferred to a new dorm—closer to Sunoo, further from Heeseung.

When you told Natty, she cried, whining dramatically about how you were replacing her.

But deep down, she understood. She understood that if you stayed, if you kept yourself in the same routine, the same dorm, the same hallways that led you back to him, you’d never really escape.

So she helped you pack, helped you move, hugged you so tightly before you left, whispering, "You deserve better."

You changed. Not overnight. Not all at once.

But slowly, little by little, you found yourself again.

The clothes you used to think weren’t your style? You started to love them.

Sunoo helped you with your hair, trimming it, dyeing it a new color every week just because you could.

"New hair, new era," he declared, dragging you into the bathroom with a towel around your shoulders. "We’re bleaching this shit."

You let him. Because why the fuck not? It was just hair. It would grow back, just like you would.

You started going out more. Not to drown yourself in cigarettes or alcohol, not to forget, but to exist again.

You filled your days with movies, books, stupid little hobbies that made you feel something.

And little by little—you learned how to breathe again.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Too late, babe."

Sunoo laughed, gripping your hand as you sat in the piercing studio, white-knuckled and nervous as hell.

"I swear to God, if I pass out, you better not record me."

"Mmm… no promises." He smirked, already holding up his phone, camera locked on you.

You groaned, gripping his hand like you were giving birth as the piercer prepped the needle.

Your heart pounded. You had watched so many videos of girls fainting from navel piercings. It was supposed to hurt like hell, right?

"Okay, deep breath in," the piercer said.

You inhaled. And then you felt the pain, the sharp stabbing pain.

"FUCK, IT HURTS!" You screamed, throwing your head against Sunoo’s chest.

He cackled, arms wrapping around you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. "You’re doing amazing, sweetie."

His other hand? Filming. The needle went through. Your stomach tightened.

The world spun around you and just like that, you fainted. 

When you woke up, the first thing you heard was Sunoo’s wheezing laughter.

"Dude." He was crying, clutching his stomach, shoving his phone in your face. "I got the whole thing. You looked like you died for a second."

You groaned, pushing him away, only to catch sight of your new silver barbell piercing your navel.

…Holy shit.

You sat up, poking at it carefully. "Fuck, that was traumatic," you muttered.

"But look at you now," Sunoo grinned, helping you stand. "A hot, bad bitch. I mean, you already were, but now you’ve got a belly ring to prove it."

You rolled your eyes. "This better not get infected, or I’m haunting your ass."

Sunoo winked, linking his arm through yours. "Worth it, babe."

People stared. Everywhere you and Sunoo went, heads turned.

And who could blame them?

Sunoo? A walking crayon, decked out in loud colors, funky sunglasses, and accessories layered on top of accessories. 

And then there was you. A full-on emo resurrection—black on black on black, nails painted, piercings gleaming, boots stomping against the pavement.

The two of you together? You looked like complete opposites, but somehow, it worked. Sunoo owned the rainbow, and you owned the night.

"People are staring." You whispered as another group of girls side-eyed you both, whispering amongst themselves.

"Good." Sunoo grinned. "Let them stare. They wish they were us."

Healing cost a lot. Like, a lot. You hadn’t realized how expensive self-care actually was.

But fuck, it felt good. Manicures. Hair dye. Jewelry. Perfume. Clothes you never thought you’d wear.

You spent shamelessly, like you were trying to buy yourself back, piece by piece.

And maybe you were.

Because with every little change, every small act of putting yourself first, you started feeling lighter.

The wind tugged at your short bangs as you sat on the bench, silver headphones snug over your ears, blocking out the world.

Your fingers moved over your notebook, writing something important or maybe not important at all, but either way, it kept your hands busy. Kept your mind quiet.

"Holy shit."

The words were barely a whisper, but the sound of your name following after made your stomach drop. Your brow furrowed, fingers tensing against the page. With a sigh, you slid your headphones to the side, glancing up.

And that’s when you saw them.

Sunghoon. Jake. Some other guy you didn’t care about.

And behind them, standing slightly apart—

Heeseung.

Your throat went dry.

"Is that you?! Holy fuck." Sunghoon gasped, eyes wide, his gaze flickering over your appearance like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You swallowed, feeling uncomfortably exposed under their stares.

"Long time no see," Jake chimed in, taking a seat beside you without invitation. "You’re not attending parties anymore."

"You look quite different," he added, voice slow, dragging his gaze over you—your ears, your nose, your shirt—lingering a little too long on the details.

"She became an emo, bro!" One of them laughed, the word emo rolling off their tongue like an insult.

"Yeah, but she looks totally hot." Jake grinned, elbowing Sunghoon with a chuckle.

You clenched your jaw. The way they were talking about you like you weren’t even here.

The way his eyes hadn’t left you since the moment you looked up.

You hadn’t looked at him once. But you felt him.

"You moved dorms."

You finally looked at him. And regretted it immediately. Heeseung stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring straight at you.

His gaze was intense, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark, scanning you in a way that made something deep in your chest twist. Fuck this.

You pulled your headphones back on, drowning him out as you started shoving your things into your bag.

"Man, she’s back to being feisty. Heeseung’s gonna like her again."

The words were casual, amused, careless, but they made your blood fucking boil. Like you were some challenge. Some toy for Heeseung to get bored of, then chase again once you pulled away.

Fuck them for thinking you’d ever let yourself go through that again. Your movements were quick as you snapped your notebook shut, yanking your bag over your shoulder.

You stood up. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t say anything. You just turned on your heel, ready to leave.

But before you could take a step, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Why the fuck did you move dorm? Why the fuck did you block me?"

His voice was tinged with anger and frustration.

You ripped your arm away, glaring at him like his touch had burned you. Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the way you looked at him.

"Our last conversation answered that." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder, walking away without looking back.

But of course, he followed. Ignoring the way his friends laughed behind him.

"Playing hard to get." One of them snickered. You didn’t even hesitate—you turned, raised your middle finger, and kept walking.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened.

"Fuck, that alone made you switch dorms?" His voice was sharper now, almost accusing. "Where are you staying? Why didn’t you tell me?"

You snapped. "I don’t want any fucking contact with you anymore, Heeseung. Go to hell."

His steps faltered, eyes flickering across your face.

You had never talked to him like this before. Not when he ignored you. Not when he ghosted you. Not even when he broke you.

His fingers twitched. He moved faster, easily catching up, stepping in front of you, blocking your way.

"You told me you loved me, and now you’re acting like this?" 

You scoffed. "And you have the fucking audacity to throw that in my face—when all you ever did was make me feel like shit?"

"Yeah, Heeseung. I loved you." You spat the words like they disgusted you. "I loved you—so fucking much. Even when you treated me like I was nothing. Even when you acted like I didn’t exist until you were hard and lonely."

His lips parted. But you weren’t done.

"But I’m done. I’m fucking tired of this casual bullshit. I’m tired of pretending like this didn’t fucking break me. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, so do us both a favor—leave me the fuck alone and go find some other pussy to bury your dick in."

The words hit Heeseung, knocking the breath from his lungs before he could even process them. But the sting of your voice was nothing compared to what you did next.

You spat at his face.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

The warm, wet impact landed just below his cheekbone, sliding down his jaw, and Heeseung stood there, frozen in place, feeling the slow, humiliating trickle of it. It should’ve pissed him off. He should’ve been angry, should’ve sneered at you, should’ve thrown some cruel words back in your face just to get the last hit in.

But he couldn’t.

Because you didn’t stay long enough to see him break. Didn’t look back to see the way his entire world fucking shifted.

Didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do any of the things he was used to. No regret, no second guessing, no lingering in the space between leaving and staying—just walking away.

That’s when he saw another man.

Heeseung watched, breath stuck in his throat, as the man approached you, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, like it was natural, like he had been doing it all along. Then, before Heeseung could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the man pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. Right in front of him.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted into a tight, ugly knot. His vision blurred at the edges, not from tears, fuck that, but from something far worst. His hands clenched at his sides, nails pressing deep into his palms as he tried, really fucking tried, to convince himself that he didn’t care.

And what made it worse—what made his entire body fucking ache—was the way you let that man touch you, let him kiss you, let him hold you. 

Like you weren’t thinking about Heeseung at all.

You looked happy.

Not forced. Not pretending. Not putting on some fake smile to get through the moment. Genuinely happy. Like you had been set free. Like the months you spent wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in his arms, breaking apart at his hands had been nothing more than a phase—a mistake you had already wiped clean from your memory.

Sunoo turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to land on Heeseung.

The look in his eyes wasn’t smug. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t the expression of a man who had stolen something from someone else. 

Heeseung hated him for it.

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, but he forced his body to stay still, forced himself not to move, not to react, not to pull you away like he so desperately wanted to. He had no fucking right to do that. You had made your choice, and for the first time in his entire life, Heeseung was the one being left behind.

This wasn’t some game anymore.

This wasn’t like all the times before, when you would tell him you were done, but then come crawling back the second he called. This wasn’t like the fights in his dorm, when you would cry and yell and break your own fucking heart, only to kiss him breathless later that night.

This was real. You had actually left.

And the worst part was, you weren’t hurting.

You weren’t looking over your shoulder, weren’t hesitating at the door, weren’t giving him a single chance to fix this. You were just gone.

And Heeseung had never felt so fucking lost. He told himself it didn’t matter.

You were just another girl.

He could go out tomorrow, find someone new, wipe you from his body the same way he had done with every other girl before you. This was nothing. You were nothing.

Then why—

Why the fuck did his chest feel so tight?

Why did he feel like he had just been ripped open from the inside out?

He lifted a hand to wipe his face, expecting to feel the lingering wetness from where you had spit on him, but instead—he felt something else.

A single tear, slipping down his cheek.

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head at the memory—at all the things he told you, the rules he set, the lines he swore he’d never cross.

Was it ever really casual?

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual

[jjkyaoi]

i know he’s grieving too but if my BEST FRIEND got all up in my face yelling at me after my father figure died i would have to lay hands on him personally

i know buck is in love with eddie because sometimes the way eddie talks to him whenever they fight means he HAS to be in love with him to take that otherwise it’s insane that he hasn’t punched him at some point

[reginyani]

Bed Chem | s.reid x fem!reader

summary: Derek Morgan hits you up for you and Spencer Reid, a genius FBI agent, to connect. One things leads to another, and you both have really good bed chem.

warnings: 18+, mdni, nsfw, drinking at a bar, p in v, unprotected sex, softdom!spencer, sub!reader, use of y/n, spencer comes in reader (if im forgetting something let me know)

word count: 3.2k

authors note: felt like its been 20 years since i've posted a fic, but here ya guys go!! i love the song bed chem, so this fic is sabrina carpenter themed💋. i don't really like this, but its been sitting in my drafts for a while now so i hope you guys enjoy(the smut isnt my best work im sorry!). if you did, just remember to like and reblog:)!

Spencer Reid wasn’t the type to go to bars, but when the team had finally wrapped up a particularly exhausting case and a few of them decided to head out for a drink, he couldn’t exactly say no. He didn’t mind spending time with his colleagues, but when the plan shifted from the corner booth to the bar, he felt his nerves start to rise.

Derek Morgan had a gift for getting people out of their comfort zones, and today, he’d decided that Spencer was due for a little socialization. 

Spencer sat awkwardly at the far end of the bar, sipping a glass of water, watching the team interact with ease. His eyes wandered around the room, but then they unintentionally froze when they landed on you. You were sitting with a friend near the center of the bar countertop, laughing softly at something your friend had said. There was an easy, effortless charm about you that made Spencer’s heart beat a little faster.

But, as usual, he couldn’t bring himself to approach you. His mind spun with a thousand reasons why it would be awkward— why he wasn’t the right person to start a conversation. What if you didn’t like him? What if he said something weird? What if he wasn't good looking enough for you? He ran his fingers nervously through his hair, trying to shake the unease. He tended to self-sabotage things like these.

Derek, who had been watching the entire conflict play out with a grin on his face, noticed Spencer's hesitation. He chuckled to himself, shook his head, and stood up. “I’ll handle this, pretty boy.”

Spencer glanced over, his eyes wide in disbelief and embarrassment. “What are you—?”

Derek flashed a mischievous smile, already walking toward your side of the bar. “Trust me.”

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat as he saw Derek in the corner of his eye approach you. He couldn’t help but watch the whole thing go down. 

Derek walked up with his signature charm and a smooth smile. “Hey, ladies,” he greeted, leaning casually against the countertop. “Mind if I join you for a second?”

You glanced up at him, surprised, but smiled politely. “Sure, go ahead.”

Derek didn’t miss a beat. “Thanks. So, I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room,” he said smoothly. “Especially when I’ve got a buddy over there who’s been staring at you for a while.” He pointed behind him, subtly motioning to Spencer, who was frozen in the corner of the room, clearly aware that the jig was up. Spencer immediately felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

You glanced over at Spencer, catching his eye for a moment before he quickly looked away. You raised an eyebrow. “He’s shy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Derek said with a wink. “But he’s a good guy. Just a little... socially awkward.” He chuckled. “But I think you might make him a little less awkward.”

You smiled, intrigued now. “So what’s his name?”

“Spencer Reid,” Derek said, a little too smugly. “I think you should text him. He’ll appreciate it.”

Derek pulled out a piece of paper with Spencer's number already on it, like he had already planned this the whole time. “I’ll let him know you’ve got it,” he added with a playful grin.

You looked at the number in your hand. “Well, I’ll have to think about it,” you said, teasing Derek. “But thanks for the introduction.”

With a wink, Derek gave you a nod. “Don’t keep him waiting too long,” he said before turning back toward Spencer, who was now practically melting into his seat with embarrassment.

A few minutes passed before you decided it was time to approach him. You slid off the seat and slowly walked up behind Spencer, tapping him on the shoulder. He quickly turned around, clearly startled by your sudden touch.

"Uh… Spencer, right?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He gulped before responding, staring at you for a quick second. "Yeah…" 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N; wanna get a drink?" You give him a friendly smile, trying to make him feel comfortable enough to come back to your side of the bar with you. 

He smiles back and nods quickly. "Yeah! Yeah... sounds good." He slides off his chair, letting you guide him back with you. You can feel his friend's eyes all on you as you walk away with him, leaving them speechless.

As you both sit down at a barstool, Spencer fidgets with his fingers rapidly. You look down to see his shaking leg and him picking his fingernails.

"Hey, it's okay. I don't bite, I promise." You chuckle, making him look up into your eyes with his own beautiful puppy eyes.

"Yeah, I know. I just… never really show my face at the bar. I'd prefer reading over this, but… here I am." he says with contempt as he slowly nods his head.

You smile, agreeing with a nod. "Yeah, me neither, to be honest. My friends dragged me out here, which I'm assuming yours did as well." you laugh.

"Yeah… but hey, I'm with you now, so…" he says, leaning his arm onto the bar countertop. You smirk.

"Your friends seem nice. How do you know them?" you ask, trying to keep the conversation as interesting as possible.

"Uh—you know... We're co-workers." He responds blandly, not wanting to reveal his place of work in case you were to get intimidated by it.

"Oh really? What do you work as?" You continue to ask him questions, pushing a response out of him. You were curious.

He hesitates a moment. "I—uh... well, I'm an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit," he finally says, taking a sip out of his drink awkwardly.

"FBI, huh?" You smirk, looking him up and down. "That's sexy. Do you carry your creds?" you ask, looking up into his eyes.

"Yeah… Uh…" his cheeks burn a crimson red as he fumbles around for a second before finally pulling out a foldable wallet. He opens it smoothly, holding it up for you to see. 

His picture looked nothing like how he does now. His hair smooth and slicked back with a side part, and a completely blank and pale face. 

"How many years ago was that picture taken?" you chuckle, scanning it one last time before he flips it over to see himself. 

"A long time ago." He laughs, his voice softening as he closes the wallet and slides it back into his pocket. "I should probably get it updated, huh?"

 

You tilt your head playfully, taking another sip from your alcoholic beverage. "I don't know, I think it's cute. Kind of shows how far you've come and grown." 

Spencer blinks, not expecting the compliment. He adjusts his tie nervously, his fingers brushing over the fabric. "Thank you. That's... nice of you to say."

You lean in slightly, resting your chin in your hand. "So, Spencer Reid, FBI agent," you say, your voice teasing yet warm at the same time. "What's something you don't know everything about?"

He chuckles, his lips twitching into a shy smile. "Plenty of things, actually. You'd be surprised at how much I still have to learn."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Like what?"

He pauses for a second, as if genuinely thinking about your question. "Well… I've never really been good at small talk," he admits, sheepishly smiling. "Or, uh, anything involving this…" he gestures vaguely between the two of you, his cheeks flushing again.

You laugh softly, the sound making his heart skip a beat. "I don't think you're doing too bad." you assure him. "And for the record, I'm not much of a fan of small talk either. Let's skip it—tell me something real about you."

Spencer quirks an eyebrow at your directness, but there's something about your tone that puts him at ease. "Okay, something real about me…" He thinks for a second. "I have an IQ of 187, have an eidetic memory, and can read up to 20,000 words per minute, but sometimes I wish I could slow down, y'know?"

You blink, completely shocked by this brand new information. "I— No… I don't know." You laugh, still completely taking it in. "That's... insane," you finally manage, shaking your head in disbelief. "187 IQ? You're like, literally a genius."

Spencer tilts his head a bit, clearly a bit embarrassed by your reaction. "Well, technically, yeah. But it's not as impressive as people think. It just means I remember a lot of things. Well… everything."

You grin, leaning a little closer. "Okay, Mr. Modest. If you're so smart, hit me with a scientific fact. Blow my mind." 

Spencer's lips quirk into a shy smile, but there's a glint of mischief in his eyes now. He pauses for a moment, as if sorting through the thousands of facts stored in his mind. He looks directly at you, his voice soft but steady.

"Did you know," he begins, "that during intense physical contact, your brain releases tons of chemicals, including dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins, which heighten pleasure and create emotional bonding?"

You blink, the corners of your mouth twitching upward as the suggestive undertone sinks in. "Intense physical contact, huh?" you repeat, tilting your head at him with that same smirk on your face. "That’s a pretty specific fact to share."

Spencer's eyes widen, his mind now racing and wondering if maybe you took that fact to offense. "I just meant… It's a common and well-documented physiological response. I wasn't implying—" 

You laugh at his fumbling words, cutting him off before he goes and spirals even further. "Relax, Spencer. I'm just teasing you." You lean back, taking another sip of your drink, your eyes twinkling. "But hey, maybe we can test that out sometime." 

His mouth opens, seemingly caught off guard. He looks at you, not sure whether you're joking or not. "Uh… yeah," he says, barely audible. "Maybe."

You smile, tilting your head a bit. "Hey, wanna get out of here? Maybe go to my place? We can call a taxi," you say suddenly, finally finishing your espresso martini and putting the glass down with a clink.

He hesitates for a second, looking back at his coworkers with an open mouth. "Uh… Yeah, sure. I don't see why not." 

The ride back to your apartment is quiet at first, with Spencer sitting stiffly beside you in the back of the taxi, his hands fidgeting in his lap. You can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of him, and it makes you smile.

"You alright over there, genius?" you ask softly, tilting your head over to look at him.

"Yeah," he says quickly, too quickly. He clears his throat and glances at you, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile. "Sorry. This is just… not exactly something I usually do."

You nod slowly in understanding, trying your best to make his discomfort fade away. "No judgment. I don't either, to be honest, but you seemed too interesting to leave back at the bar."

This earns a laugh out of him, and his shoulders relax a bit. "Well, uh… thanks." 

When the taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building, you pay the driver and lead Spencer upstairs. He follows closely behind, his eyes darting around as he takes in his surroundings.

"This is a nice apartment complex," he says as you unlock the door and step inside, gesturing for him to follow.

"Thanks," you say, flicking the lights on and setting down your bag on a nearby chair. You toe off your shoes and look back at him. "Make yourself comfortable." 

Spencer hesitates for a moment before awkwardly shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. He stands there for a second, unsure of what to do, until you notice and step towards him.

"You don't have to look so nervous, y'know," you tease gently.

"I'm not nervous," he replies, though the slight tremor in his voice was surely nervousness. 

You tilt your head, studying him. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" 

His lip stretches into an upward shy smile.

"So I've been told," he admits.

You laugh softly at his words, and you gesture towards the couch. "Sit down. Do you want something to drink?"

He shakes his head, making his way to the couch and sitting on it stiffly. "I'm alright. Thanks."

You sit down beside him, close enough to brush shoulders but not so close as to make him uncomfortable. For a moment, there's silence, and then you glance up at him with a playful smile.

"So… want to share another one of those scientific facts of yours?" you ask, leaning slightly closer to him.

Spencer chuckles, his shoulders loosening as he meets your gaze. "Only if you're ready for it." 

"I'm ready," you say, settling in and giving him your undivided attention.

He thinks for a moment, then smirks slightly as he chooses one. "Did you know that the human brain processes the sensation of touch faster than almost any other sensory input? It’s why even the lightest touch can feel so intense."

You raise an eyebrow, the corners of your lips curving upward. "Is that so?"

He nods, his confidence growing as he begins to explain. "It’s because of specialized nerve ending called mechanoreceptors. They send signals to your brain almost immediately, making touch one of the most primal and powerful ways to communicate."

You hold his gaze, letting your hand grab his cheek. Now your voice is soft but laced with curiosity. "And what exactly do you think touch is communicating right now?" 

His breath hitches slightly, his gaze flickering down to your arm as it reaches his face.

"I think," he says, his voice quieter now, "it’s.. saying a lot."

"Good," you murmur, leaning in just a little closer, "because I think I like what it’s saying."

Spencer’s eyes meet yours, wide and full of something you can’t quite put into words. And for the first time all night, he doesn’t hesitate, and in one swift motion, his lips are crashing into yours.

  The kiss started off soft and warm but quickly grew heated. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You could practically feel his nervousness melting away as you two continued, replaced by confidence. Gone was the shy, awkward man from the bar.

You tilt your own head, your fingers sliding up to his head, tangling in his soft hair. Spencer's breath hitched at your touch, and he let out a quiet whine that sent shivers down your spine. For someone who looked and sounded to be inexperienced, he sure as hell didn't make it seem like that.

When you both pulled away, it wasn't forced, it was synchronized. You searched his face, cheeks flushed with a deep pink, and his eyes watery as he stared into yours. 

You both stood up from off the couch and pressed your lips together once again. But this time, it was slower, as you savored the way his hands gripped your hips.

 

Spencer broke the kiss this time, looking at you before saying, "Where's your bedroom?" You smirk, grabbing his hand and leading him to your bedroom before slamming the door shut. 

When you both finally make it to your bed, you lay down, him on top of you as his lips trail down your jaw to your neck. "God, you drive me insane, Y/N." He murmurs, his words muffled against your skin.

You tilt your head back, groaning as his lips continue to work against your skin. "Fuck, Spencer…" 

His hands fumble around your body until his fingers finally catch onto the zipper of your dress. His fingers quickly move to unzip it, then skillfully move to take the straps off your shoulders. You whine in disappointment as he takes his lips off of your neck to slide the dress down your body and off at your legs. He throws it somewhere on the floor before quickly going back to press his lips to yours.

You squirm as his fingers graze over your lace panties, practically teasing you in a place you need him most.

"Spencer…" you let out, huffing audibly. He quirks an eyebrow, the erection in his pants growing by the second.

"Yes, baby?" he coos, his fingers continuing to trace circles on your panties.

"I need you..." You whisper, embarrassed at your own neediness. He smirks, pretending to not hear you.

"You what? I need you to speak up for me," he teases, and this drives you mad. 

"I need you!" You yell in desperation, tired of the teasing. "I want you to… fuck me," you mumble, looking up into his eyes.

"Didn't exactly take you as a begger, Y/N," he snickers, continuing to look down on you. "But all you had to do was ask." His hands swiftly move to his pants, quickly unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. He pulls them down, still stuck on his thighs.

He looks down and slowly moves your panties to the side. "Already wet, huh?" he teases. He then grabs your legs and swings them over his shoulders. "Ready?" he asks softly. You nod your head, squinting your eyes shut. 

When the tip of his cock hits your entrance, you squirm slightly, getting out a small whimper. "Oh, god…" you murmur.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he slams into you, making you let out a loud yelp as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you with swift movements. He groans, the feeling of your warm pussy making him throw his own head back. 

"Holy shit… you're so tight, baby…" he says breathlessly, the loud sounds of heavy breathing and clapping filling your bedroom. "Look at me," he demands. "I want to see those pretty eyes of yours."

You follow his command, your watery eyes looking into his wide brown eyes. "Fuck, Spencer… right there!" you're practically yelling at this point.

Both of your bodies are moving at the same time, practically glued together, stuck together like magnets as your body bounced on his cock. Your hands gripped your baby pink sheets harshly, knuckles turning white as you arched your back.

"Sweet girl… 'm going to come." he warns, breaking eye contact with you to throw his head back once again.

You finally feel relieved, knowing you were chasing your own high. "'M almost there, baby. Oh, god…" your voice cracking between each word, warning him of your own orgasm.

As you begin to rock your hips, you finally moan, "Come inside me, baby! Please, yes, please!" and that, finally drives him over the edge. 

As your body starts to give out, you and Spencer release at the same time. Feeling the warmth of his release spilling inside of you as you both moaned in one synchronized motion, making your own orgasm feel even better.

When he finally pulls out, his body collapses next to you, both of you breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath. You turn your head to look over at him, smiling softly.

"Well, I guess you can say you seduced me with your scientific facts," you admit, laughing lazily, which earns one out of him as well.

tags:

[keeksandgigz]

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

[revlw]

𓏵 CTRL//OBEY

Yan! ITrapped X Reader

Warning : obbsessive behavior , yandere themes , stalking , worshipping , self aware , ITrapped.

Note : Please do not romanticize real stalking or abusive behavior. This is for fictional and horror purposes only.

You hear about ITrapped before you ever see him.

Rumors. Whispers. A name spoken in hushed tones by survivors in the campfire light. Most describe him with confusion. “He’s not like the others,” someone mutters. “Doesn’t chase you like a normal killer… doesn’t even look like a monster.”

He doesn’t. Not at first glance.

When you finally see him, it’s under flickering lights in a run-down hallway. A basic noob avatar, low-poly and harmless looking—except for that Ice Crown on his head, glowing faintly, coldly. He stands motionless in the dark, head slightly tilted, as if studying you. Not attacking. Not even moving.

Then he vanishes.

You think it was a glitch.

It wasn’t.

His obsession begins not with violence, but with access.

You start noticing strange things in your rounds. Generators you just touched regress by themselves. Doors that should’ve been opened glitch out and lock. Items flicker in and out of existence. But these things only happen when you’re nearby.

At first, it’s frustrating. Then it’s unsettling.

You complain to others, but no one else sees it.

Except him.

ITrapped always appears briefly—standing in the background of your match, not lunging at you like other killers, not roaring or hunting. Just… watching. Frozen. Calculating.

Eventually, the sabotage stops targeting you. Instead, it starts protecting you. He disables traps you don’t see. Breaks paths for other survivors—but not you. You’re allowed to move freely, untouched.

You haven’t done anything to earn his favor. That’s what scares you.

You’re not playing the game. He is.

You begin to realize he’s more than just a presence in the matches. He’s altering the game itself.

Somehow, your matches always start with him now. The map selection glitches until it favors the ones he prefers. Load-in screens freeze when you try to quit. Your inventory resets to a “default” version, and the only item that stays is a strange crown-shaped charm he leaves in your loadout.

Players who get too close to you start having issues. One survivor who stayed by your side the whole round disconnects mid-match and can’t rejoin the server. Another finds their controls reversed. One player swears their Roblox account briefly locked when they tried to message you about him.

Still, he never harms you directly.

When you’re injured, he lets you limp away. He never tunnels you. He lets you finish generators—if you’re alone.

You realize, eventually, that he doesn’t want to kill you.

He wants to isolate you.

The first time you speak to him is accidental—proximity voice, maybe, or a glitched chat prompt.

You don’t even know what to say, but you try: “Why are you following me?”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Then a quiet, unreadable line of text appears in chat:

“I used to fix broken things. Then I saw you. I don’t need anything else now.”

You feel a chill—not from fear, but because the message auto-deletes seconds later. Like the system itself didn’t want you to remember.

But you do.

From that point on, he no longer hides. He orbits you in every match. Other survivors grow suspicious. Some stop queuing with you. Others start blaming you when their matches glitch out. You’re alone more often now.

Which is exactly what he wants.

He never refers to you by your username. He calls you “buddy”—the way he once referred to Chance. The way someone might speak to a pet project, or a favorite possession.

You stop seeing him as just another killer. He’s no longer playing the game.

He’s rewriting it.

Your escape routes begin to vanish. The hatch doesn’t spawn when you’re the last one. Exits flicker with ERROR signs when you touch them. Sometimes, your screen goes black mid-match, and when it returns, you’re in a custom map no one else seems to recognize. He’s always there, standing still in the center.

“You’re the only file I didn’t want to delete.”

You can’t tell if he’s speaking in metaphors or literally viewing you as code.

Either way, you’ve stopped feeling like a player.

You’re Already His.

Eventually, he stops appearing to other players entirely.

Only you see him now.

You’re told he’s “disabled” or “removed” from the rotation, but he still shows up in your queue. You report it. Nothing happens.

One night, your screen boots up without you clicking anything.

The message appears in familiar black font:

“Game loaded: You + Me”

And when the round starts, you’re alone.

No teammates. No map.

Just him.

Just you.

Just silence.

And you could feel that he’s smilling.

@revlw 2025

[ssbbwxutjja]

You were so fit, so muscular—always at the gym, always showing off that hard body, but now, look at you. You’re getting so fat that even your gym buddies don’t want to hang out with you anymore, and those girls who used to chase after you? They’ve lost interest too. They can’t even look at you now without seeing a lazy, fat pig. I watch as your once-toned chest softens into a flabby mess, and your gut hangs over your waistband, getting bigger every day. You’re unrecognizable from your former self. It didn’t take long for me to figure out how to sabotage your diet and exercise routine. You’re so lazy that you can’t even bother to make your own protein shakes, so I take advantage of that, swapping them out for weight gain shakes. Each one ensured you'd get fatter, your body slowly morphing into the sloppiest, bloated, most piggish version of the guy you used to be. It was almost too easy fattening you up.

[mari-lair]

Let's talk about after-school chapter 28!

I had assumed this interaction was what made Teru, our king of pettiness, go "You know what? I think I won't exorcise your evil spirit problem. Perish."

But?? Akane already had stiff shoulders at the start of their talk?? And Akane waited until it was near the end of their student council time to brag about his 'date' with Aoi.

Meaning Teru just let Akane carry the embodiment of stress and hatred on his back during their entire student council time??

I can't fathom why? This was not an 'I trust Akane to handle it' case, not when Teru was the one who enchanted his glasses so he know better than anyone how vulnerable to supernatural Akane becomes with it, and telling myself Teru needed to wait for the supernatural to feed on Akane to grow when this guy is a pro exorcist also feels like an excuse.

Maybeeee Teru was morbidly curious as to how Akane would fight the feeling?

Speculations on the insane decision to let Akane be haunted aside, their conversation is a trainwreck, shout out to how Teru instinct upon hearing Akane got a date is that his buddy is hallucinating.

I get his skepticism tho, pre-severance Akane you are... A lot.

"I love the part of her that invites me to go shopping" Akane, my dear, you need help. I know you're being honest but please find a less awkward way to be a lovesick fool. (---> I say, knowing full well he'll need to go through a traumatic feelies talkies section in Death's house first)

"cya!" is just cute to me. Look at this smug ill-informed dumbass.

"Hey, the flowers behind aoi are different this time," I think in surprise, even tho realistically Akane must associate Aoi with the entire garden at this point.

And here comes the professional thrid well, the prince himself! His mere presence means Teru actually fell for Akane calling the shopping trip a date though, he gives Akane too much credit.

Teru knowing Akane well enough to translate his stammers of a pathetic creature into "Why are you here?" is beautiful, bro is better at his side gig (pester akane) than his main job (be an exorcist) today.

Aoi's "I know a liar when I see one. let's indulge him anyways" she truly is a kind soul.

Speaking of said liar, I love that Teru doesn't have a basket or shopping cart.

He isn't even trying to pretend he had plans to go shopping, what a guy.

Aoi getting excited over dirt and fertilizer, my girl <3

Shout out to Akane for being happy that Aoi is happy and to Teru for finally figuring out that he doesn't need to sabotage anything cause there is nothing to sabotage.

Teru: *speak*

Akane: and away goes my joy and whimsy.

Love Teru trying to bond with Aoi right after the realization this is a hangout. He wastes no time.

Aoi telling Teru the truth is sweet, I'm glad they are getting closer. Also happy to see Teru remains shameless.

Aoi gave him the driest look possible and Teru still put carrots on her basket. He even said "buy it" SO HE WOULD HAVE MADE HER PAY FOR THE CARROTS.

YES AOI REPRIMAND HIS ASS!

She really treats him like a dog! Is incredible. From her 'grrr' to the way she points a finger at him, it gives me "bad dog! Drop it!" energy.

Fascinated by the way Teru blushes. He seems to be more hung up on being called 'bad' than anything, but he definitively liked being reprimanded, he is still blushing when he walks instead of displaying the dejection of the convenience store.

He doesn't even give up on his quest to make her buy veggies.

Teru, you're doing horrible sweety, keep pestering her and you two will be inseparable in no time <3

Love how Akane snapped out of the curse's first attempt to make him spiral by refusing to be on the same level as Hanako.

He is so arrogant "What am i a loser? A pathetic toilet loser? Nah nah, I am better than that." like damn, okay bro.

I can't believe he pushed back against a curse by the sheer power of self-confidence and determination though, he is built differently. 90% of the characters in this manga cannot relate.

Love how Teru probably didn't suggest a single flower for Aoi to buy, trying to test if he could sneak even one vegetable into her basket, so his closeness to Aoi just made Akane's petunia suggestion look that much more thoughtful in comparison (she does look very happy to be given an actual flower).

Rest in peace Teru you suck at sabotaging.

(Or he would suck if that was the goal! He stuck around for this entire hangout despite how rare his free time is. He got his ice cream, he even walked Aoi home, he just want to hang out. Same vibe as when he went "Oh aoi come with me to the festival, Akane will be there")

I find Teru's zoned-out face so cute.

There is no speech bubble to Terukane's first panel here, but i am 95% sure Teru was the one who asked to be notified about Aoi's gardening progress considering the '...' contrasting Akane's enthusiasm. Love that for him, yes talk to Aoi, get close to this closed off girl.

And Akane didn't like that iuguyguygyui

Teru can always just take off his glasses like Akane never fights that. Good for you.

I am still not over Teru just letting him carry this curse.

But now I really doubt he did it specifically to torture Akane, cause Teru likes helping Akane as much as he enjoys annoying him.

I wonder if he is proud of Akane for not acting on any of the negative feelings he was being fed, cause Teru looks genuinely happy here! It's a far cry from his usual 'bullying you relax me' or 'i am petty' kind of smiles.

...I may be biased but I am throwing my "Teru didn't exorcise the monster for this long to have an excuse to be hanging out with the Aois while tecnically doing his job." idea here. We do get a heavy confirmation he could have done something before and wanted to third wheel after all.

Teru wants to turn this couple into a tricycle so bad. What a guy.

"I hope I didn't act weird" That's an insane thing to think considering how you act near Aoi on the daily bro, you're lucky she is too down bad to mind your madman tendencies.

Peak weirdo to weirdo pining hell.

Speaking of which, she sent him a message to show off the planted flowers! She went out of her way to make sure he saw it, Akane never asked her to update him.

LOOK AT THEEEEEEEEEEM

"Thanks for taking me out today!" says the one who invited him. And 'taking me out'? to the hardware store? I swear I wouldn't even be surprised if she mentally referred to their hang-out as a date too. I love you Aoi.

"As long as Ao-chan had fun, I am happy" l know and I love you.

ps: Their height difference still sparks joy. The smallest girl in the block, the tallest boy in the group, and the perfect middle ground.

[iphyslitterator]

I'm in a 911 group chat that includes a Buddie fan, and she was passionately defending Tommy's right to bring up his anxieties over Eddie in 8x11 (yay), and then she asked me to elaborate when I commented, "If we're not Buddie-shipping + *don't* think this was a central insecurity, Tommy is actually way more in the wrong/dumber/more excruciatingly self-sabotaging." Two weeks later, I have typed up my working theory for her and am cross-posting it here for posterity:

Let's start from the premise that "I think Evan's in love with Eddie" was not a central reason behind the breakup, which is defensible because a) the text gave no indication of it previously, at least not one that would be legible to the general audience, and b) the only piece of "evidence" Tommy offers is that Buck is living in Eddie's house.

(I'm sure the thought had crossed Tommy's mind: they're close, Eddie's hot, he went to Buck's apartment in the first place on the assumption that Buck was jealous over Eddie. I actually used to headcanon that they'd talked about it casually, but I was overestimating their communication skills 🙄)

Here are some things we learn or can plausibly infer from the 8x11 bar scene (I can elaborate upon request): he misses Buck and wants to get back together with him (urge to call him; driving by his place); he's lonely; the 118 stopped speaking to him; he has no reason to believe Buck missed him too (Buck didn't tell him! he doesn't know about the baking!).

And he has all this time to think in the morning, while he's buying champagne and cooking half a paycheck's worth of eggs, about how wow, it's weird being in Eddie's house. Like, this was a pretty intense and devoted thing for Evan to do. But, well, Evan's pretty intensely devoted to his family, and vice versa. It's a great family. He's kind of jealous. And, okay, he didn't reach out to them after the breakup either, but he'd maybe hoped.... Anyway, whatever, it's clearly not happening. They don't miss him, they do miss Eddie. Evan misses Eddie, Evan probably just missed sex with Tommy. Still, though, maybe Tommy can ask Evan to take him back. Maybe they can still try again.

(Throw in the headcanon that it was unhinged of Buck to ask Tommy to move out of a house into an apartment with no doors (we know Tommy has a car lift and a Muay Thai setup), and you also get "Evan wouldn't move out for me, but he did for Eddie.")

So my primary contention about "now that the competition's out of the way" is that Tommy feels acutely that the competition is NOT out of the way.

Part of that is an abrupt rise in paranoia that Evan is pining for Eddie -- he's living in the guy's house! And then Buck doesn't technically deny it, he just says Eddie's straight, which, come on, Tommy knows all about crushes on straight guys.

But it's not just about that. It's about Tommy once again being on the outside of the firefam's close bond. It's not just Eddie haunting the narrative. Tommy has expressed his longing to be part of that family onscreen three times: 7x04 ("I was super jealous....I wanted to be a part of that"), 7x10 ("a little jealous" of Buck's bond with Bobby), 8x05 ("It's a wonderful thing, having a crew like that behind you, even when things go wrong"). The competition's not even close (he thinks); Tommy was never Evan's priority, he won't be if they get back together right now, and maybe he never will be.

But this all comes out as "I think you have feelings for your best friend." Which, in this scenario where that's (mostly) not true or important, is uncool for at least three reasons:

a) IT'S SO DUMB, baby, shut uppppp, why are you so committed to expressing your anxieties in a way that is totally incomprehensible to your beloved and indeed to most people who aren't studying you like a bug on tumblr dot com 💀

b) He is once again hinting at his desire for a family without articulating it, and he NEEDS to stop that.

c) As in the breakup, he's constructing a narrative about Buck's feelings, without Buck's input, that fits his own pessimistic worldview. In neither case does it go quite as far as Buck denying + Tommy disbelieving, but it's trending that direction, and it's patronizing (and arguably biphobic). If Buck needs to understand Tommy more, i.e. look past the cool exterior, Tommy needs to "understand" Buck less, i.e. let go of his preconceived notions and let Evan be the authority on his own feelings.

So my thesis as a Bucktommy fan and writer is that it's part of Tommy's consistent I-want-a-family theme (and secondarily, I think the non-Buddie GA's takeaway was essentially supposed be Ryan Guzman's "lol Tommy's insecure"). Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[hugemilkshake]

Hey can you do more uh...self aware cookie run au with anxious reader? Just I can't help but imagine more scenarios of y/n being anxious and thinking 'OH MY GOD IM GONNA DIE!' Buuut end up spoiled by cookies. Here are some examples I thought up but if you think of anymore cute and fun things, I'd love to see em too!

Y/n goes to the hollyberry kingdom and meets pitaya. Thinks they are gonna die to dragon...nope, dragon just wants to encourage y/n to make smores or roast jelly dogs over their flames and if a single one of the cookies who sabotage the competition even think for a SECOND about interrupting that, then they got another thing coming!

Y/n thinks they are gonna die to the licorice sea or the traitor affogato cookie when encountering them....sea acts kind to y/n somehow (or just ignores em...your choice lol) and affogato just wants to spoil y/n with sweets! (Bonus: instead of joining the COD....they go with y/n as something along the lines of 'you know what? I don't want to take over this kingdom anymore. I don't want it anymore, I want y/n! King, I admit to everything, please banish me so I can run away to y/n's kingdom!') Lmao!

Golden cheese kingdom...y/n goes in, thinking glitches are gonna kill em buuuut all the digital cookies make sure y/n is feeling safe, happy, and comfortable....aaaand golden cheese gives em lots of hugs lol! Can imagine being wrapped up in her wings feels really good!

Enjoy the milkshake! I had to give an excuse for writing about affogato cookie- I mean, the dude caused me brain rot. Also I’m not writing any golden cheese stuff because smoked cheese massacred my team and I’m angry at that (my team had way more power than smoked cheese)

Somewhat plot relevant?

-platonic self aware au-

Normally you had means of controlling your anxiety but at this moment, there was no way you could control your anxiety. You were in the middle of a forest! And not even one in your own world! It was one in the game you had recently just gotten into!

You were only on episode 4 in the story mode so you literally had no clue where you were. You just sat on the ground and started to silently panic.

But at some point a cookie you did see once in the cookie unlock screen kinda picked you up and just took you to a palace? You don’t really remember what the cookie said but they weren’t hurting you! So that must mean something!

But you were now having a feast in this palace with a cookie who you learned was actually a dragon- well anyways the dragon said they were Pitaya Dragon, also known as The Red Dragon. You did panic for a moment before Pitaya told you to just chill out and have something to eat.

And you know what? It was actually quite fun! The Red Dragon talked about other dragons and nice fun stories while the two of you ate, you were sad to go but you had too. You got some berries and stuff you could sell as a wondering traveler. Though you did tell Pitaya you’d come back one day so might want to stay close

——————

You had gone from a warm and humid forest to a frozen wasteland. What’s more to say? You had everything you needed to survive and villages were quite nice to you, you had your own gear so you didn’t bother them too much.

But you did befriend a peculiar cookie when you were by the Dark Cacao kingdom…

A cookie who looked quite lavish found you and seemed a little lost and panicked… kinda how you were when you first got here…. You felt bad to the cookie so you went to talk to them

Apparently his name is Affogato Cookie and he was banished from the Dark Cacao kingdom on the grounds of the false accusations of him trying to upstage the king. Poor guy…

Now since Pitaya Dragon was so generous to you when you had nothing so you decided to help Affogato get back in his feet since you should be passing on others kindness!

What you didn’t know was that one Affogato lied to you, two Affogato had connections to Dark Enchantress and three, he would become your travel buddy. So now the two of you travel around as friends :3

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

REC LIST NUMBER 6! The theme is PINING if you couldn’t already tell. I haven’t done a lot of writing recently but I have done A LOT of reading so here are some of the lovely stories I have come across over the last few weeks. As always, please show these authors some love in their comments xx REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

where our eyes are never closing by @rewritetheending | T | 6k

After the lightning strike, Buck asks Eddie to take candid photos of him to help prove to Buck that he still exists. Absolute PEAK Softness. Buck through Eddie's eyes! I was a mushy puddle by the end. 10/10 would recommend

put my heart inside your palms by @markofalover | T | 3k

An accidental pet name, a thoughtful dinner, and a shared shirt. Buddie are too domestic for my health and well-being! I want what they have!!

because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by @neverevan | E | 75k 

During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him AKA the Mudslide Missing!Eddie fic with pining for daaayyyyyyyzzzzzzz

Left Unsaid by C_M2 | M | 33k 

The discovery of a small facebook group full of tsunami survivors rocks station 118. This fic is amazing!! The perfect amount of pining angst, domestic feels and firefam love and goodness 💕💕

If I Should Fall by @elvensorceress | T | 23k

Buck thinks Tommy has died but it's actually Eddie. He is not dead but almost and they have to figure things out from there. This fic had me feeling like my heart has been gutted from my chest and dissected before my very eyes but it has the happy ending we all deserve. 

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies | G | 27k

Eddie is the only one who doesn't realize he and Buck are dating 😭 This is a perfectly sweet and angsty miscommunication fic. 

the weekly bet (but the forever kind) by @theleftboobgrabber | E | 49k

The firehouse has a bet and Buck and Eddie work it in their favor. Once again Eddie pining for dayyyyzzzzzzzzzzz. (I’ve been on a Pining!Eddie kick recently). Perfect Buckley Diaz family feels. 

light me and i'll burn for you by @woodchoc-magnum | M | 31k

An old friend of Buck's joins the 118 and he kinda sucks. Eddie pines and falls down a hole (literally). Seriously though the pining and the angst in this fic is just delicious and with a happy ending to boot <3

The Aftermath of Liberation and Love Confessions by @elvensorceress | T | 17k

Eddie makes the love confession to end all love confessions while perfecting the balance between pining and not giving a f*ck. I love me a Jenwyn fic and this one is fabulous as always. 

love bites so deep and we've got tiger teeth by @usereddie | M | 10k

Rather than going to texas with his grandparents Christopher goes to stay with Buck for an extended sleepover and Eddie realizes he is incredibly in love with his best friend. Honestly I am OBSESSED!!! This is officially my season 7 ending <3

hearts on fire by @woodchoc-magnum | M | 65k

This is a canon divergence on Season 2 where Buck and Eddie almost get together but then Abby comes back and Eddie lets buck go and then regrets it while trying to be happy for him. The pining, the self-sabotage, honestly is all one big tasty meal and topped off with a happy ending and a side salad of the Shannon and Eddie friends/co-parents arc that they deserved!!

like a dog with a bird at your door by @shitouttabuck | E | 51k

Set post s6, Eddie is injured on a call and Buck moves in to help with his recovery whilst learning to navigate his feelings for his best friend and pining for the position Eddie’s girlfriend holds. honestly, I’m actually only halfway through reading this fic but OMG I’M ASDFFGGHJJKKL and I just already knew this would be making it onto the next rec list so I'm adding it to this one preemptively. 

[hana-a-chattic]

Karasuno first years and Talent.

I've recently seen a quote that goes something like, Genius is a product of obsession. Can't remember the exact words, but there's plenty of similar ones, you get the idea.

I wholeheartedly believe that's what partrayal of "talent" in Haikyuu!! is like.

The character that has the word "talent" thrown at him most is probably Kageyama. He must be one of, if not the, best players overall in the story. He also started playing when he was 7/8. And even before that, volleyball was everywhere around him at his home. He also dedicates his entire life to the sport. He's never shown to care about anything else, no sign of having any other hobby (dude doesn't know how to use a PSP ffs).

Have you seen the guy's room in anime?

Yeah. It's empty as hell, with only volleyball magazines and workout equipment in the shot. If he's not practicing with the ball, he's working out. He only approaches his peers when he needs it for better performance. And I'm not saying that to be rude, or sad, he seems content. Because that's his obsession.

Hinata? His teammates and rivals alike unanimously agrees he - from the technical standpoint - sucks at the beginning. He picked it up when he was 12/13, and even then, it's shown he only started getting actual practice in his last year of middle school, so, 14/15. He's been doing it for less than a year. (Oh, ye also has casual social life, friends outside of this one thing he does, and ejoys - or, at least, used to enjoy - doing other stuff with them)

But now he gets actual coach, actual people who know how to play with him on the team, and of course, Kageyama. With whom he can stay well into the night practicing, go running together. Compared to Kageyama, he lacks experience. A lot of experience. And compared to many other players in his position, he lacks physicality. Height. But he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm, basically. By joining Kageyama in allowing the sports take over his life, even flying to another side of planet. He's also, definitely, obsessed.

Tsukishima is not. He found joy in it, enough to join a pro team, albeit not the best one (sorry Frogs I swear I love you). But he also went to uni. Got a degree. Got a stable, public servant job. He has at least one friend (from whom we know he does play video games lol). He has other interests, showcased for the first time ironically in his room.

This one ball game never was and never will be end-all be-all to his life. And he's not a genius, no one would call him that. But he's pretty good, isn't he? Part of it is genetic lottery, sure (both he and his brother are Tall for Japanese boys), but even outside of that, he's good. And he also has to have been doing it since he was 8/9, although for most of the time, he wasn't really putting himself into it. And he was plenty familiar with it even before, with his brother playing it at least since Kei was 6. To a lesser extent than Kageyama, but Tsukishima also grew up with it, watching his brother play, probably watching other people play with his brother. He's no genius, he's no maniac, but he knows this stuff.

And then there's Yamaguchi. The only person out of them who dropped the sport after highschool, despite putting so much effort during those 3 years. Because it doesn't really seem like it was ever about volleyball, for Yamaguchi. It was about his pride. It was about proving himself he can do it. It was about no longer just envying "stronger" people, but actually standing tall and proud by their side. I can't figure out when he started playing it (i.e. met Tsukishima, in his case), has to be 8-10, but he says it himself: all he knew was the fun volleyball, a game you play with buddies, a club activity you do to hang out with your friends. And with sad self-sabotaging best friend by his side, he didn't ask for much else. Until he did. He probably couldn't go pro with his skill set, but it doesn't seem like he wants to, either. He likes volleyball, sure. As an adult, he watches it on TV and even visits faraway games in person. He's probably extremely supportive of his pro league friends. But he seems content with that. He's casual.

Haikyuu!! is pretty fair in this way. You can have an innate advantage, be it physical or the sort of family you're born to, but at the end of the day - the more you sacrifice, the more you earn. And the more of an obsessed crazy freak you are, the more you enjoy every single sacrifice you made, I suppose.

(I wouldn't know I kin Tsukishima lol)

[yuri-is-online]

I love the Fyuuture kid au. Could I ask for Ace!yutu, the idea of Yutu getting second hand embarrassment at Ace's flirting attempts makes me laugh so much, just yutu standing there watching ace self sabotage himself when it comes to Yuu wondering how Yuu and Ace managed to get together in the future. (Yutu has definitely judged his father a few times in silence)

Another thing that lives rent free in my head when thinking of Ace and Yutu is when Ace finds out that Yuu is basically dead in the future. That has to be a crushing discovering for him considering that he's (and Deuce) very protective of Yuu

(also the idea of Deuce's future co workers deciding that Yuu is a danger and basically cursed Yuu to die has to make him feel uneasy about weather he'd want to work for a company that basically sentenced Yuu to die once everything is resolved but that's a conversation for another day)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here.

Slight bit of clarification, the Magical Marshall's appear to be a government organization, or perhaps a type of law enforcement that each government has?  The way Deuce spoke about it made me think they sound similar to a counter terrorism unit, but either way your point still stands.  While Deuce never gets the complete picture of what happened to Yuu, he still knows in his heart it was his office that hurt them, and it's extremely difficult for him to live with.  The office stands by it's decision to the bitter end, no matter what he says or how many monster attacks are reported.  And if he gets too annoying, well they already made you disappear.

And with that lovely thought let's talk about Ace!

Ace! Yutu is a fairly normal kid.  He doesn't really have friends, maybe a discord buddy or two who he plays games with, but no one he really trusts to talk with about his family situation.  And he does see it as a situation, Yuu might be doing their best to make things normal for the two of them but the entire situation just stinks.  Yutu knows there's something wrong with it but he can't put his finger on what…

Very smart.  He taught himself how to count cards and got in trouble at school more than once for running blackjack games where he took a bunch of money from his classmates.  Not his fault they suck at cards!  And sure he could just cheat like normal (he's just as good at cutting the deck as dear old dad) but it's much more fun to do something technically legal.  It makes people that much more mad, which he finds really funny.

He tries to not talk about his dad that much, though he might make a joke or two about fatherless behavior. Much like Cater! Yutu, he assumes that his dad is probably dead and while he's very curious, he's reluctant to poke at Yuu's memories for fear of causing them more pain.  When he does think about his dad he tends to romanticize things, Yuu's description of him makes their relationship sound really sweet.  Marrying his best friend sounds great to Yutu, his dad must have felt really lucky to have managed to obtain that.

Getting isekaid doesn't phase this Yutu at all.  He was already so convinced something was off back in your world, learning he was a mage and all about Yuu's adventures just confirms all of his assumptions. Getting placed into Heartslabyul and being told that was Ace's dorm thrills him, doubly so when he gives Crewel his first migraine and gets told he's just like him. That's not to say Yutu is completely happy about his situation; his father is dead (Yutu refuses to acknowledge the monster wearing his face as a person) and Yuu effectively died ages ago, the curse placed on them just drew it out for a cruel amount of time. Yutu's angry, and what's worse is that he doesn't really have one person he can fix the blame on. He wishes Yuu or Ace were alive so he could ask who they blame, who he needs to seek out to get them justice. When the others propose traveling back in time he leaps at it without a second thought.

Crewel does try to tell Yutu about his dad, but his descriptions sort of go over Yutu's head until he actually meets him. To be fair to Yutu, he's not completely off in his assumptions about how Ace felt about Yuu, it's obvious that Ace was smitten with his parent from the start but he doesn't fully understand the denial Crewel is talking about. The blot monster Ace became is very cocky, and excels at misdirection so why would he be shy about flirting with Yuu?

Well maybe shy isn't the right word for whatever he's looking at now. Ace is reluctant to leave Yuu's side, but he has so many excuses as to why that it hurts his soul, wouldn't it just be easier to say "because I'm worried about you?" Instead of insulting Yuu's ability to take care of themselves and joking about you needing him but only joking! It's not like he really wants you to! And don't get him STARTED on all the little excuses Ace finds to touch you. It makes him seriously reconsider his whole opinion on wanting to marry his best friend thing because god if this is level of pathetic what it takes he doesn't think he could cope.

He assumes (maybe correctly) that Yuu is the one who made a move on Ace and that's how they got together in his timeline, something that high-key offends Ace when he finds out and he encourages you to be honest with Ace if you ever open up about your frustrations with him. That doesn't mean he ever gives Ace a break though, Ace is already suspicious of Yutu's intentions towards Yuu but his constant dunking on him has earned him Deuce's respect, so now he's lost both of his friends! What the hell guys you're supposed to be on his side!

Ace's distrust of Yutu doesn't bother Trappola Jr at all. On the contrary he thinks it's a good thing, the more he interacts with the first year group the more he appreciates how solid of a head Ace has on his shoulders. It doesn't make up for him being cringe, but it does make Yutu think he could maybe trust his dad with the truth.

I don't think any of the boys take the reveal of what Yutu's future is like well, but Ace's is especially bad. He thinks about all of the close calls he has seen you have, how afraid he was when he got those messages from you over Winter break, the S.T.Y.X. attack, every overblot he has ever seen, and now his own child is telling him that you made it through all that and his bad attempts at flirting but didn't get a happy ending. He has the same set of emotions that Yutu does, anger and grief that he has no one to really blame for. Yutu is sad he doesn't have an answer but grateful he isn't alone anymore.

The reveal makes Ace's teasing actually insufferable, he's so fucking cocky now that he knows you liiiiiike him back. See that boy over there? Actually living proof that you're into him, kinda cringe actually! He bets you used to have a crush on him too (just turn it around on him if you're in public he will melt.)

They like to try and out play each other in cards, Ace can't card count but he is better at reading people and better at cutting the deck so they have a pretty even win loss ratio. Yutu isn't above whining to Yuu about how his dad is being mean if he's on a losing streak, something that makes Ace fold quicker than he'd like. Neither of them will ever admit it out loud but they have a silent competition for your affection, Ace thinks you should be cheering for him since he's your future husband and Yutu thinks that you should cheer for him because he is capable of being honest about his emotions. When Grim starts whining for attention they call a truce and fight him instead.

Speaking of Grim, he has a relatively good opinion of Yutu in general based off seeing him as Henchuman 2 but when he finds out Ace is his dad? Respect ended he always knew that Yutu kid was a loser... all those times he refused to get him tuna make so much more sense now!

Learning about the future makes Ace even more protective of Yuu, and he doesn't make it much of a secret either. There's something about learning that your partner is supposed to die that makes you care a lot less about what your classmates think. That protectiveness extends to Yutu, but Ace is a bit more subtle with that. He understands that he isn't the version of himself that the kid needs to hear from, that he might not be able to give Yutu the support he needs but he loves the kid so much it sort of scares him. He's really looking forward to getting to be with Yuu and Yutu in the future, and if that means he has to put a little extra work in then so be it.

[pureshadough]

a more articulate set of thoughts & critiques on the latter half of jambound (spoilers up to and including chapter 23)

part of me sometimes wishes jamma Didn't write at fucking light speed if it meant having a larger interval of time to evaluate the pacing and points of focus in this fic, because a lot of the cast & set dressing is starting to feel like an afterthought paired against shmilk's Repeat Emotional Breakdowns. given he's the POV character the narration is of course going to be bias in his favor and the other members of the cast will be secondary to what Hes immediately focused on, but the Constant emphasis on the turmoil he's been experiencing as relevant to pv & the soul bond is starting to leave me feeling. fatigued? i guess? 23 earnestly felt like a rehash of the same beats 11 and 18 hit with less of the, like, unknowable Mystique to shmilk's character, the intrigue - by this point we have him figured out, he has himself figured out, and while im glad we finally got some direct fount (my #goat) acknowledgment as a part of that "actualization" it was largely at the cost of. like. white lily and pure vanilla being present characters...???

i trust jamma Not to render lily down into just being an obstacle to smpv's relationship obviously but at the same time the fact she immediately disappeared was kind of disappointing; for how much energy and time went into building up to their *Inevitable Confrontation* it sure did last all of like Two sentences before shmilk scuttled off to wax poetic again. 23 in particular i feel like would have been the PERFECT chance to finally give us that pv POV thats been eluded to so many times; we Know what makes shmilk tick at this point so having his emotional state be so Fucked that what hes thinking & feeling is impossible for even the Omniscient Reader to keep track of would have been a REALLY refreshing & interesting approach by comparison. conversely i understand that the point of not yet knowing what pv is thinking Still is to cast that veil of uncertainty on whether or not their dynamic is Genuine vs. if it stems exclusively from shmilks own personal desire (even though the answer to this is Incredibly Obviously Not), but i digress. middle ground couldve even been white lily POV instead if jamma was Actually Based /lh

all this is to say im paying far less attention to the musings of the POV character than i think im Expected to be in the wake of this being like the third time we've watched him lose his shit which makes me worry a bit for the way the rest of this is gonna play out. i have my own Personal Sensibilities as a character-focused writer n i feel that the pacing has started to suffer a bit since like, 16-ish, by way of repetition. all of 19 through to 21 felt like several thousand lines worth of smilk just repeatedly asking himself "Wait... Are me and Pure Vanilla.... Dating????" which like. Yes. You have been since 11 buddy

id go as far as to argue that the gala "arc" was a chapter and a half too much padding for what it was. TANGENT TIME: it moreover felt uncharacteristic of shmilk to panic in the way that he did after the scene w/ clotted cream & overhearing ppl gossip about him (not even in the sense that he was Performing as someone uncharacteristic to himself under the veil of lady milk crown, i mean that in the sense that i genuinely do not feel like he would veer so readily into isolation amidst a bout of self-consciousness as he would self-sabotaging & destruction; seeing him cause a proper ruckus at the party and Then running off after witnessing smn like pv's palpable Disappointment would have hit a little harder, for example. him getting upset over people being like "eugh... that BEAST cookie that pvs keeping in his castle" was like. Huh? Did I miss something? He's literally a war criminal why did this bother him so much

idk. this is a Fanfic that is being written For Fun by one (1) author and some beta readers to what i imagine is far larger an audience than jamma was ever expecting, so i would never want to discredit them for their success given that the bar for ao3 content is On The Floor most the time otherwise. It's a Good Fucking Fanfic. all of these thoughts come from a place of admiration - the fact that jambound is a media piece i care enough about to analyze so thoroughly to start with is testament enough to its quality. this is quite literally just me pointing at some rougher edges and going "tch.... i would do it like this instead!" while i meanwhile couldnt hope to square up to even half the amount of work ethic on display here ROFLMAO. i think i just dont like it when people write shadow milk as being """too soft""" which is. a Necessary Constant given jambounds subject matter. we're long past the threshold of him obfuscating his emotional sensitivity under an aloof disinterest or violent tendencies. this is probably why 10 and 11 are still my favorite chapters

[morganski-19]

The Buddie Argument - Eddie's Perspective Spoilers 8x09

Eddie is really being placed between a rock and a hard place in this episode. He feels incredibly disconnected from his son, and with the limited contact, feels that the only way to mend their bond is to go to Texas and be there in person. Which is true. Nothing is happening over the phone, so he needs to go to Texas in some capacity to properly get the ball rolling toward reconciliation.

And, much like he said in the episode, why would he take his son out of an environment he's thriving in, when he could move to that environment. Eddie's own needs don't matter in this moment, only Chris' do.

So he moves. He puts his house up for a subletter and he buys a place in Texas. And Buck, who is vowing to help Eddie fix his problems, is only making it worse.

Which leads to the beginning of the argument. Eddie is completely justified in lashing out at Buck here. Buck made a complete fool of himself, and messed up all of the showing of that day. Buck, who is the fixer, who is the one that Eddie can count on for support no matter what, is sabotaging everything. In Eddie's mind, he's trying to infiltrate Eddie's plans because of his own feelings.

Does that remind you of anyone?

So Eddie lashes out and tells Buck to leave. Which he has every right to do. This is where we get the line where Eddie claims that he has no ties here in Texas anymore.

Which he doesn't mean, or at least, not in the way Buck hears it.

Eddie does have ties in LA. He has Buck, he has the team, he has his entire support system. But in Eddie's self-sacrificing mind, those things don't matter in this decision. It doesn't matter that he'll hate living in Texas, or he's leaving everything behind. The only thing that matters to him in this moment is Chris. So that's the only tie that matters to him.

Not to mention that the ties he has in LA aren't necessarily severed in Eddie's mind. There's only a one hour time difference between LA and El Paso, so they're all practically a phone call away. He can still have support from afar. Just not in person anymore.

Furthermore, this is a high stress moment for Eddie, where he's not only trying to scrounge to fix all his problems, but he now feels betrayed by the one person who never betrays him. So he says something he doesn't really mean. Something he has done many times before.

The stress continues as Buck continues to fuck things up. It wasn't in his right to tell the team that Eddie was leaving. And he realizes that in the episode, which is why that last scene in there.

As far as that last scene, it's a parallel to so many other fights that Eddie's had. Where he feels like he isn't being heard, and he feels betrayed. So he gets loud and bites first, and puts words in Buck's mouth to try and get the fight to blow up. He's not expecting Buck to come in level headed and explain himself in a logical way. He's expecting it to become a screaming match. So he makes it worse to protect himself.

Then everything comes to fruition. And Eddie doesn't know how to react to that. He's so taken aback he's brought to tears.

Because, this is the first time anyone's helped him without him asking, without him begging. This is the first time anyone's understood what he's done without trying to talk him out of it. Without trying to insert themselves into his decision.

This is the first time he's had unbridled support and love.

Whether he realizes that or not, he's about to lose it.

And I would like to have seen Eddie say the direct words, "I'm sorry" to Buck about what he said. But relationships sometimes get to a point where those words aren't as important as everything that comes with the phrase. An apology is only good with the substance around it. There's also the possibility that Eddie hasn't seen how wrong what he said was yet, and we'll be getting that apology later.

There's a moment in the reveal scene where Eddie's defenses completely break, and you see his vulnerability. You see the shock and the sorry on his face. Because everything is rewriting in his mind. The narrative that he's believed for so long, that he can only ever do anything by himself, it's wrong. He's not alone. He's not the sole fighter.

This was a set up for that realization to come later on. And whether that comes with an apology or a call back to what Eddie said, it'll still be satisfying to see.

[ryuichirou]

TWST boys’ type HCs

We’ve had a couple of pretty similar HC prompts in our askbox for a while now, and today we got another one that is kind of similar to it as well. There are sooome differences to them, but I figured it’ll make sense to write one list for all of them!

Thank you so much for your questions <3 And I am very sorry for the wait, especially to the first two Anons who’s been waiting for months…

Anonymous asked:

I apologize if this has been asked before but do you have any headcanons on what body parts the twst boys have a particular liking for? You know like who’s a leg guy, who likes the booty, who prefers thighs, etc.

Anonymous asked:

What is each of the twst boys’ type both personality and looks-wise? Is there anything that’s an automatic NO?

Anonymous asked:

Are the twst boys physically attracted to their lovers? What’s their favorite part and why?

Overall, here are our questions: What is his type personality-wise/appearance-wise? What is his favourite body part? How strongly he is physically attracted to his partner? I’ll try to answer all of them…

I’ll also try to keep in mind canon trivia as much as possible, but let’s be honest – I don’t remember everything lol Also, a lot of these boys aren’t fully aware of their types and feelings.

Riddle – in theory, his type would be someone who takes care of him, spoils him and soothes him, but in actuality I think he falls for people that excite him lol Without fully realising it, too. This is why he ends up getting conflicting feelings towards Floyd of all people. Ironically, he is terrified of repeating his parents’ mistakes and spending his life with someone he always viciously fight with, but I guess he’s self-sabotaging oops. In terms of appearance, he is definitely attracted to taller and bigger men LOL (he doesn’t realise that...) The ones that would drown him… in embrace, of course! I think his favourite body parts are arms, hands and, interestingly, chest. I also think physical attraction plays a bigger role in his life than he cares to admit; somehow, despite how sentimental and inexperienced he is, I see him as someone who would get very into someone’s appearance (and would be oblivious about it).

Ace – this bitch outed himself in the Ghost Marriage event: he wants to be with someone he would have fun hanging out with, but also someone who he could be honest with, fight with, someone who would call out his bullshit as much as he would call out theirs, so yeah Deuce Spade lol Ace just wants a partner who is also a buddy… But in terms of his physical type, he seemed to express several times that he finds Epel attractive?? I guess your type and your ideal partner aren’t necessarily the same thing. Maybe this is also why Ace has complicated relationship with Riddle – he definitely thinks he’s cute on some level. As wholesome as it might sound, I think Ace likes long lashes… But he also strikes me as someone who is very into legs, and not necessarily soft “girly” legs. No matter who he ends up dating, he would be very physically attracted to them, even to the aspects of their appearance he wasn’t initially interested in.

Deuce – serious, reliable and responsible older men do things to his heart… and even just older men who look like they have their shit together. In a way, he’s always been drawn to his senpais (who weren’t very responsible but) or any other older male figure that felt like a perfect and shiny example of what Deuce wants to be. In reality, it was just Deuce wanting to be with these men lol I think taller men make him feel things too, but his favourite features are a face (handsome!) and probably arms. In general, Deuce is very physical and, similarly to Ace, would be very into his partner’s entire body.

Trey  – as everyone’s caretaker, he would be attracted to someone who allows him to take care of him… to an uncomfortable degree. I guess that would mean that he likes helpless people, in a way, which sounds very mean somehow lol In terms of physical attraction, he definitely has a bias towards more petit people, and I think OTHER THAN TEETH he is very drawn towards small hands, big eyes and let’s be honest, he is mostly into Riddle lol But he would go even more feral over Riddle if he was a little bit more plump… Trey is working on it, alright? Also, somehow despite a very clear type, Trey finds himself attracted to thighs in general. He is also very physically attracted to his partner, even if he doesn’t seem like it, he’s constantly losing his mind in his head.

Cater – I think Cater has his actual type (someone who he could be honest with and someone who would ground him) and an “ohh that’s totally my type!”. The second one is all over the place because he flirts with people left and right, but I think one way to describe it would be cool/shiny. All of his exes were either local school stars, or someone who is a good musician, or someone who was very cool to take selfies with. Cater’s “first layer” is superficial, but it’s because he never got to know people properly and never really had a chance to connect with anyone. Alright, before it gets too depressing: good fashion sense! Long fingers! Good smell! And of course, BUTTS! But even then there isn’t anything specific appearance-wise that Cater is looking for. He just wants to go “woah”.

Leona – I don’t know if this could be considered a type, but Leona prefers people who take care of him, but don’t make it very obvious that they do or don’t act like a caretaker. Ruggie works because he complains all the time, there is this feeling that he does it for his own benefit. In terms of appearance, unfortunately Ruggie is way off because Leona is drawn to strong men with good build, but at the same time they have to be low-key about it so Leona doesn’t feel a threat to his ego I mean, doesn’t feel the urge to assert dominance. He does want his partner to overpower him, but in a very specific way I guess. He is also all about physical attraction.

Ruggie – what he needs is a “partner in crime” that shares his worldview and also respects his boundaries, which sounds nice, but for Ruggie it’s more of a “I’m doing my own thing, you’re doing your own thing, but we’re working towards the same goal somewhat”. Anyways, he isn’t super interested in finding someone like this, it’s more of a “if I end up with someone, it’s better be this kind of person”. It’s not like he has a physical type but… I think he is drawn towards meaty people. I think he loves big thighs, heavy butts, huge arms and fat tits.

Jack – oh he has very specific ideas for who he wants his partner to be because he is very determined to be with one person for his entire life – this is how things are in his family, after all. He is such a monogamist it hurt… He needs someone who is very into constant self-improving, but also isn’t a chore to be with emotionally. Ironically, I think both Deuce and Vil suit him well in that regard lol In terms of physical appearance, he loves athletic bodies and muscles, but he isn’t super into someone huge and beefy like him. I think he also loves butts a lot, but he is extremely shy about it…

Azul – in his head, his type is someone who is at the same time on the same level with him in terms of skill and potential, but also someone who is easy to bully because Azul still wants to always have the upperhand. In actuality, Azul kind of wants someone he could ease up with a liiittle bit. Not too much though. This is why even though I love both ships, I think Azul/Idia would have more longevity: Azul is crushing HARD on Jamil, but he would never allow him to get closer even if Jamil himself was willing. With Idia though, Azul is somehow more chill. Maybe it’s because Idia is easier to bully lol In terms of appearance though, I think it’s… Jamil again. Azul is so physically attracted to Jamil it makes him a bit feral. His hair, his body, his face, his hands – everything. I think he loves longer hair in general, but also elegant hands and pretty faces – those are parts he loves in Idia very much as well.

Jade – someone who wouldn’t bore him, someone who would always keep him guessing. It’s very difficult to fit his type, he is more difficult to excite than Floyd in general. But he would still love someone who would share his hobbies (mountains, mushrooms, teasing Azul)~ Until they become boring, of course. I also don’t think he has a type in terms of physical appearance – he is pretty open to anything, as long as it’s interesting and hopefully weird, and he would probably consider having a preference limiting somehow, even if it’s just in theory. That being said… He is somewhat interested in people’s necks. But also, since he is a merman, he is a liiiiittle bit into legs, because those are very new to him.

Floyd – he is the heartthrob out of the two tweels, and his romantic and sexual interest is higher than Jade’s, but his type personality-wise is pretty similar: he doesn’t want anyone who would bore him. At the same time, he is also attracted to people who can take him, meaning those who are strong enough to make him shut up somehow. This was Riddle’s mistake when they first met: Floyd was so impressed by his strength that he got obsessed instantly. Something similar happened with Vil during Beanfest too. At the same time, both Jade and he get very into those who hide from them because it feels like the person is teasing (hi Idia) them… In terms of appearance though, Floyd is also pretty omnivorous, but he still loooooves little cuties with feisty personalities. If a boy looks like Floyd could chomp his skull in half, he is into him. If the boy looks like Floyd could break his wrists but just squeezing them, he is into him. If the boy is very angry and fussy at the same time, man, Floyd wants to eat him alive. Maybe this is why he likes Epel too. He also loves chest because there are nipples there and they’re fun to rub against ahem. Also… I hate to say it, but probably feet :(

Kalim – I honestly don’t think he has a type, but he would prefer someone whom he could have fun with! Of course, Kalim doesn’t think there are people whom he wouldn’t have fun with…  But unintentionally, I also think he is drawn to those who aren’t super ready to open up to him from the get-go. Maybe it’s because he feels like it’s his mission to make that person open up? Look at Kalim, making projects out of people lol In terms of appearance, he sees beauty in a lot of people, but realistically, he is probably drawn to a lot of Jamil’s characteristics: his arms, his stomach, his face, his hair, his back – this is just what Kalim subconsciously would consider to be very attractive, without necessarily understanding that he’s describing Jamil. If he had to pick one thing though… Neck. Kalim wants to dive into his lover’s neck and collarbone and just smell it. And then hair too…

Jamil – similar to Ruggie’s type in theory, but in practice Jamil is drawn towards those who are somewhat domineering – he kind of enjoys it too much whenever Kalim has to pretend to be very dominating and scary (like during one of the Halloween events) lol I think to him it’s more of a guilty pleasure though; as he starts thinking about it, it feels wrong in every possible way. I also don’t think he has a type in terms of physical attraction. If the body is attractive, it’s attractive: I think Jamil is more drawn towards the attitude than any physical traits. But if he absolutely had to pick one body part to be attracted to, it’s forearms. His are better though.

Vil – someone who is passionate, determined and hardworking, but also someone who gets him and is honest with him. It’s also pretty important to Vil that he could share his interests and passions with that person, which is why Rook pretty much speedran the entire “getting closer” thing with Vil that would usually take much longer lol Vil gets very soft when he is in his element, after all. He also tends to fall for people with headstrong and somewhat stubborn personalities for some reason, even though he himself is very bossy and in theory would want his partner to be more obedient... In terms of appearance, I think Vil tends to prefer someone on a manlier side, but not overly masculine (no beard!) + he is attracted to buff people with strong bodies. He loves big thighs and strong necks, and it’s not unusual for him to feel butterflies in his stomach because of his lover’s body… He also would obviously demand his partner to always be super clean, but in actuality there is a certain level of body odour that he doesn’t mind and finds kind of attractive. What are those, pheromones?

Rook – both in terms of personality and appearance, Rook is in love with anyone and everyone! He is enamoured by a lot of people, so naturally there are a lot of things that he finds attractive that contradict each other: he loves Vil’s strong personality, but he also loves Idia’s shyness, he loves Epel’s naiveté, but he also loves wisdom and deep thinking behind Jamil’s eyes. Same with bodies: he loves Vil’s legs, he loves Leona’s mane, he loves Malleus’ horns, he loves Deuce’s calves, he loves Silver’s chest, the list goes on and on… And whoever he is with, while he is with that person, he is the most physically attracted to someone person in the world. For the window of time he is with that person, he is obsessed to every single body part and every single detail and imperfection of this person.

Epel – in a way similar to Deuce, but not quite: he is also drawn to older men, but he doesn’t like the calm and collected ones, he loves those who are a bit unhinged, unapologetic, cool in a way ~a boy~ would consider cool. This is why he is into people like Floyd or Leona or Rook when he is acting closer more feral or shows his physical prowess in any way. He wants someone to be reckless with, he wants to be loved in a bit of a crazy way, but yeah of course deep inside he is also a romantic that wants to spend his life with one person who would grow apples with him back in Harveston… In terms of physical appearance, yep taller muscular men!! lol muscles are this boy’s main fetish after all. The face doesn’t even matter to him much, Epel is all about thigh and arms that could choke him out. He loves strong backs too.

Idia – I think I wrote about his type at some point but there is no way I’ll find this post now so I’ll do it again and hope that I don’t contradict myself: Idia loves people whom he could spend time with doing things that he loves! He wants to play with someone, to watch anime and movies with someone, to talk about programming and stupid people on the internet with someone. Both Lilia and Azul are good in that regard – he is the happiest when he is playing games with them. But also, despite being capricious and easily freaked out, I think Idia is in a way attracted to stubborn people with strong personalities that take all the guessing out of their relationship. It’s easier for him if his partner decides for both of them, even if Idia doesn’t agree: he’ll still bitch about it, so it’s okay. But actually, Crimson Muscle is perfect for him. CM never oversteps and always minds the distance, as if not to scare Idia away, but he also instantly notices when Idia is getting upset, and always shows the exact amount of interest and investment in Idia’s stories that Idia wants… Idia is crushing hard on that man. And the fact that this is an experienced older man probably does things to Idia as well, oops. In terms of appearance, even though he keeps ending up with petit men, I think Idia loves those who are a bit on a stronger side… he also loves deep voices. Can’t think of any one body part though; I don’t think Idia would have a lot of physical attraction towards anyone in general to be honest. Shocking, I know lol

Ortho – he loves those who respond well to him being playful! I also think he has a bias towards those who are a bit older because he is very used to being around Idia, even though he mostly takes care of him. Still, he loves being a little cutie that people compliment on his achievements; this is probably why he works so well with Vil. I also don’t think he has a physical type because he still isn’t sure about what is considered appealing, but he consciously decided that he is into butts! He even told Idia once that he is now into butts. Maybe it’s a phase, the boy is learning about himself okay? Realistically, he probably responds to faces the most, which is kind of sweet to be honest. Real!Ortho would be a leg and thigh boy though lol

Lilia – nowadays he just wants someone to have fun with, he isn’t concerned about anything else – it’s not like he has to build a family with someone after all. So yeah, fits very neatly into Idia’s desire to have quality time together! In terms of physical appearance, I think Lilia also is someone who would be into a lot of people, but in general… those who are significantly taller than him. The taller the better. He doesn’t mind short cuties, but lovers with long-ass legs are his jam, and this has been his bias ever since he was a very young fae lol  So much space to bite~ He also is very into butts; probably the biggest butt enjoyer in NRC. And dragon tails which is super specific wow. He finds physical attraction to be very important, and he kind of think that there is no relationship without it… he’s a bit old-fashioned like that. I also feel like he is kind of haunted by the image of a tall busty woman with long dark hair and fair skin (I wonder why), so he is naturally drawn towards those elements as well.

Silver – does he have a type… not really, I think. He is close to people he is close with, but he never really considered romantic attraction towards someone… It’s easier for him to be around extroverted people though. In terms of appearance, he probably has a bias towards people similar to Lilia, but it’s not like he’s ever met anyone who is even remotely similar to him. I guess he is his one and only in terms of this specific type of beauty lol But other than that, he does find himself staring at Sebek’s back or chest from time to time… Maybe it’s because those look like nice sleeping surfaces though.

Sebek – someone who wouldn’t stand between him and his liege of course! Someone who would be understanding of how important it is for him to dedicate his life to Malleus first and that person second, or even third! Or something among the lines. In actuality though, I think Sebek is drawn towards those who make him… feel and think unexpected things. Partially because he doesn’t know how to deal with those thoughts and feelings, and is eager to figure them out by chasing that poor person lol In terms of physical type, I think it’s fair to say that Malleus is his Ideal Man, but Malleus also feels somewhat otherworldly, like it’s not appropriate to compare others to him…but he does love elegant appearance, long fingers and lips that look somewhat… darker, like they’re coloured I guess. He wants to kiss instantly lol He would be extremely into his partner physically though and might discover a lot about himself when he’s actually with someone for the first time.

Malleus – another one who really loves those who respond well to his teasing. Someone who would play along, but also not be afraid to stop him when he takes things too far. Maybe scold him a little bit, but just a little bit, because otherwise he’ll get mad. He wants someone who would pay attention to him, be attentive and actually listen to what he has to say, but also he has to be interesting to listen to… Someone who looks serious, but isn’t boring and allows him to be playful from time to time… and an adventurous nature! Malleus has a lot of preferences when it comes to personality lol but this code isn’t as difficult to crack as it seems. In terms of appearance though, he doesn’t have a preference, buuut I guess he has a slight bias towards serious faces, because he loves to fluster their owners. His favourite body part is actually… ears. He just likes to whisper and to tickle them with his breathing, okay?