#some of this is ROUGH rough but at least the bones are there lol

[prettymediocrewizard]

Speaking of rough drawings... Here's a thumbnailed DnD animatic I made 2 years ago. I'm still happy with most of these shots, but at this point I will probably never finish this.

(This one was based off @ruukery 's character using the dream spell on Wester and trying to find out what's going on in his psyche)

[broken-spirit101]

Douma - Yandere Alphabet

A/N: I'm on my knees for this man 🛐 Yandere alphabets are so fun! I haven't written anything smutty before so some of them might not be too awesome. I thought I might do one for Douma since I couldn't find any lol Original alphabet found here.

Warnings: Yandere themes, blood GIFs, murder, torture (not on the reader), abduction, mentions of NSFW

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Douma would buy tons of gifts for you every single day. If you want a crown, he'd get it for you! Other than that, expect to get showered in tons of kisses. It can get pretty heated, but Douma is a PLEASER when it comes to you. He would want you to enjoy it as well, so he wouldn't take it too far if you don't want him to. That is until his patience runs out.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? He has no limits. A guy has been glancing or talking to you a bit too much? He's getting murdered in a blink of an eye. However, if someone hurts you, they're probably getting tortured the very day you told him about it. His favorite torture method is to throw that person covered in sweet, sticky honey into a room full of insects like caterpillars, cockroaches, spiders, and other disgusting creatures. The person would get eaten alive slowly, getting stripped of their life gradually but definitely.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? This bitch is cocky. He would be so proud of the fact that you're entirely at his mercy. He's sadistic: he would point out that very fact just to get your pissed-off reaction. Other than that, he would give you the PRINCESS TREATMENT™. Want a garden attached to your room? He's got it made for you within a day. Want a crown? He'll get it delivered to your room within an hour. Heck, want the blue spider lily? He's ordering all his minions to go out to search for it and would actually put in the effort HIMSELF to find it for you. Fuck Muzan, you're way more important.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? It wouldn't be Douma if he didn't. Despite being a pleaser, his patience runs thin. He'll coerce you into doing some... special activities with him, even if you don't want to. He's manipulative and would definitely guilt-trip you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? He would go yandere for you only because you help him feel at least some semblance of emotions, if not more. He's drunk on the feeling of love that only you give him. He wouldn't show his vulnerable emotions like sadness or anger often (which started to sprout after you protested heavily when he initially abducted you). You're his most prized possession.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? Of course, he can be emotionally stupid, despite having observed human emotions for centuries. He would actually not have a clue why you'd protest being abducted despite having all the luxuries he could offer. He would gently try to persuade you to just listen to him and live the lifestyle he offers, telling you that you'd grow to love it. You wouldn't even have to lift a finger! However, if you still oppose him, he will use some force to try to get you to submit to him, starting with just breaking the wrist of your non-dominant hand. See, he's actually considerate!

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? Initially, yes. The first couple of attempts of you trying to escape would be amusing to him. It gives prey-predator vibes, and honestly? It turns him on. But not for too long, it would tire him out, because you obviously can't get rid of him. It's pretty cute but annoying.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The punishments. He's very rough, whether it's breaking your bones or fucking you senseless. It would be torture. He's just showing you the trailer of what would happen if you don't listen to him, at least, that's what he says.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? I doubt he'd care too much about getting married to you. After all, you're already his, so what is the sense of going through a wedding? Starting a family wouldn't be his first priority either if you don't want one. As long as you're with him, he doesn't mind. Oh, yeah, he'd definitely turn you into a demon not too late after abducting you if you already aren't one. Can't afford losing his darling due to some stupid illness or age, can he?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? Does he ever even try to hold himself back? He'd get jealous every now and then, not as an overwhelming emotion, but as just a twinge that pricks at his mind whenever he sees you interacting with anyone other than him. The person who's making him jealous would disappear without a trace within a day.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? He's very sweet and clingy when he's with you, believe it or not. Would pretty much whine for you when you deprive him of physical touch. He'd pepper you with kisses to see you blush. Just the sight of it is eye candy to him.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? Love letters? Hell nah. It's just not his thing. Sure, he'd leave you sweet little notes like "I miss you :(" or "You're so pretty, you know that?" in your room every now and then, and it's adorable. His love language consists of physical contact, gifts, and his occasional sweet little gestures.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? Uh, yeah. We all know the answer to that. As I said before, he's going to be whiny and clingy and sweet whenever he's with you, but don't irritate him by doing anything he's forbidden you to do. A different part of his personality would be revealed in that case.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? :/ don't make me do this. He'd fuck you in the most unholy ways you could think of, like you're some slut or a ragdoll. Would be into exhibitionism. He would fuck you until you're just an incoherently blabbing mess and would gracefully continue to wipe out the followers that would witness the little performance you both put forward for them.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? Your freedom would depend on the ability you have to escape. If you're a demon slayer who can easily overpower his followers to escape, he's caging you in a room with a fucking metal door, him being the only one who's allowed to come in 😭 Expect to be chained even inside your room, if that's the case. If you're an ordinary human, he'd allow some of his trusted followers to let you roam around during the night when he's usually out. Never during the day though, because if you still somehow manage to escape, he wouldn't be able to go after you until the night sets, and by then, you would have covered a fair distance away from him. Other than freedom, he would also control the amount of food you get. If you're being too rebellious, don't expect any meals. He loves the power trip, you being so weak compared to him. A literal asshole.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? Yeah, don't even get me started on that. Douma would let you off a maximum of 2-3 times if you rebel or just don't consent to the kinky shit he wants to do with you. The 4th time's always the last straw.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? For a considerable time, no. If you manage to escape and he isn't able to find you, he'd cling onto that small string of hope that he would eventually find you. You're always lingering the the backrooms of his mind. If you die, however, he wouldn't be able to move on from you for at least a year or two before he forgets all about the emotions you made him feel that he loved when you were with him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? He wouldn't regret it at all, no, but he would slightly feel bad about it if you made it clear how much you despise having your freedom taken away. Douma would never return you your freedom until you manage to win his trust fully that you love him and would never expect. The freedom, too, comes with a cost. You'll have a strict curfew like you're some child. If you don't abide by it, don't expect the same amount of freedom for a couple of months.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? Just the feelings that you manage to stem out from somewhere deep within him that's gotten him addicted to you like some drug.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? Confused as fuck. He can't understand why you'd want to go back to your home. He takes good care of you, no? Why would you want to go back to your friends or family? They don't love you like he does. They never can. Just crying or screaming won't get you much of your freedom back. He has a soft spot for you so he'd feel bad, so he gives you some privileges, if possible. However, if you isolate yourself for longer periods, his patience would eventually run out before he'd punish you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? Not really; his insanity pretty much makes him the perfect definition of a classic yandere, doesn't it?

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? It's how stupid he is when it comes to emotions. He's been observing human emotions for centuries, and while he can't connect with them, he can predict how people will react to certain stimuli. However, deeper emotions can't be predicted; they are only understood. Somehow, if you manage to exploit that weakness of his, get him to trust you, and become vulnerable with him using fake emotions, you can regain your freedom after years. It's a long shot, but it could work.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes. Mentally? He's always mentally torturing you in some way. Physically? Only when you piss him off too much.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? He absolutely is down bad. Extremely clingy. He would do anything to make you love him. Just listen to him once, will you? Douma will treat you like the absolute goddess you are.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? He isn't the most patient person ever, as I said before, so about half a year at maximum.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? Definitely, if you're protesting a bit too much for his liking. He'll manipulate you to the point where you're begging for his touch. He wants complete control over your mind and body.

Map

[hoshigray]

Sit down for this one, alright? How bout a gigolo! Toji, who stumbles upon you? The reader's friends pay for his services to help ease your stress from work, and you begrudgingly have to accept the offer. And when you finally meet him, it's a night that you were not prepared for you, mentally and physically.

A/n: camgirl! reader this, prostitute! reader that; motherfuckers, if you don't slap your favs onto the field right tf now!!?? Gege himself said that Toji is a manwhore for money and women, so you know I'm running with this idea :/ Lol but fr tho, this was a prompt that has been itching me, plus I love making these scenario thingies!! I outta write them for the other JJK men when I have the time (or maybe y'all can send asks *shrugs*). All ik is that this hot dilf bastard would make a fine gigolo, I'd happily be broke ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cw: gigolo! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - age difference (reader is at least in their mid/late-20s) - implied that reader isn't a virgin, but does try new things w/ Toji - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling - prone bone + cowgirl/riding positions - scratching (m! receiving) - cervix fucking - pet names (baby, cutie, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweet thing) - praise - overstimulation - impact play; spanking (1x) - Toji lowkey simping for the cute, shy reader.

Wc: 2.2k

Gioglo! Toji...

...whose been in the field not as long as his hitman occupation, yet it's a side hustle he's good at. Like, extremely good at. His age and rough appearance wouldn't have you guess that he does this sort of thing; however, men and women sigh in heavenly familiarity just from the sheer mention of his name. When you venture deep into the streets, it's no surprise to the average goer that he is [if not one of] the best gigolo in the game. The younger male escorts find it hard to compete with him, but it's pointless going up against a man of his caliber.

...who enjoys the gigs even when going with it for all these years. Money was the only reason he turned to this hustle in the first place, so, surprisingly, he's continued with this for as long as he can. Especially now that he has two kids and is well past his younger prime, he still uses his body on clients who can't get enough of him. And the number of his customers has stayed steadily high (if not increasing by the day) throughout the years.

But who is he to call this lifestyle off? Easy cash all from some good sex? Toji has no complaints about this side hustle.

...who states he has no favorites among his clients. There are the faces he'll remember — his returning loyal customers — and then the faces only there for a quick fuck and never to be seen again. Not that Toji cares about such things at all. As far as he's concerned, he's only in it for the money. So, as long as the cash looks appealing, he doesn't care what he has to do or has to do it with. Besides, you should never mix your personal life with your profession, especially with a heavily explicit and raunchy one such as this. He lived by that motto all those years and will resume doing so. No matter how hard they plea with doe eyes for him to stay longer, he'll just give them what they want; his deep verdant eyes contrasting his raven hair, his titillating smirk on his scarred lips whispering dirty words to their ears, and his muscular body that put them under his spell in the sheets.

Toji swears he has no favorites. So he thought...

...who is a name you weren't familiar with until your friends came to you, and you expressed nothing but sheer horror after they explained. Apparently, as the most stressed and workaholic person in the group, they thought it'd be a good idea to pitch in and schedule you a night with the infamous Toji Fushiguro. You've practically begged them to reconsider, pull back from the deal, bargained, anything! Even so much as calling one of them ("Please, please, please just call this thing off!" "Sorry, Y/n. He already accepted the offer, so we can't get the money back. Plus, you're gonna be in good hands, I promise! I was with him once, and my body was never the same. I saw him the second time and, literally, my puss—" "OKAY, I GET IT, I'M HANGING UP, BYE!!").

Your objections were directed to deaf ears, so to say you were nervous the night of Toji's arrival was far from comprehension. Coming home from work was hard enough throughout the entire week, becoming difficult to stomach day by day when the fateful day came. Because you never had experience with an escort or playboy before — let alone one who's supposedly well-known to your friends and the streets! Blood running cold as you constantly look at the time, your foot thumping on the ground, and your fingers fidgeting as you wait for the stranger listed to take your virginity away. And with the sudden knock on your door, your heart almost lept out from your mouth. Oh, fucking Christ...

...who surveys your entire appearance after you open the door for him. And he takes his time drinking in your pretty figure, your smooth skin, the alluring scent of your floral lotion, and the cami romper that exhibits your shoulders and thighs to his liking. He notes you avert your gaze when his eyes find their way to yours, and he snickers. Already, he knows he'll have fun with this. "Hey, cutie," Toji says, his gruff tone rare to your ears. "Y'r name's Y/n, right? Heard about you from y'r friends, said they wanted me to treat you."

You gulp before replying. "Yes, that's me...Oh! Please come in, Mr. Fushigu—"

"Toji's enough, sweetheart." He corrects you before entering inside, taking his shoes off at the front and entering the living room. "Nice place ya got. Did'ja wanna do this here? Because I was told to take you out somewhere."

You open your mouth to answer, but you meekly retract yourself. Toji notices your quiet display, chewing on your bottom lip while playing with the tied straps of your romper on your shoulder. Damn, so fuckin' cute. He walks up to you and brings a hand to lightly seize your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and you almost want to scream at the older man examining you like some treasure. "Ya nervous?" You give a shy nod. "Aww, y're a cute lil' thing, huh?"

With hot cheeks, you avert your gaze away from him again. Your modesty amused the older man, "Relax, baby. I'm gonna take good care of you, ya hear? If y're feelin' any pain or somethin', be sure to tell me." He has you turn to him again, caressing your cheek with his warm forefinger. Your lips quiver with anxiousness when you give another nod to him. And with that silent confirmation, you've accepted what happens next.

...who enjoys breaking you down as the night goes on. He has you on your bed with your back against his chest, and he does what he can to warm your body up to him. His big hands grope your breasts and tweeze your erect nipples until one slithers down to your drenched panties and forces a finger between your slick-coated folds. Your whimpers seep past your pretty lips, gasps of air exiting your system when the man kisses your neck and sucks on your skin.

"Mmmm, so tight 'round my fingers, mama," his hoarse voice vibrates his chest. You melt while he nibbles on your ear. "Spread them legs wide fr' me." With quivering limbs, you try to do what you're told, and more wails exit your mouth as he pushes his digits to and fro from your leaky chasm.

And the moment he finally has his dick inside you? Oh, Toji relishes the sensation of you around him. Fucking so deep in the prone bone position, he hammers his pelvis to your ass, and his balls smack onto your vulva coated in slick and come. Your moans fuel him to go harder and faster; the sight of you griping the sheets beneath and your ass jolting with every thrust turns him on too much.

"Haaah—Ahhhh!! Toji, oh God," it was your first time ever in this position, and it's so intense and electrifying with how harsh the older man propels himself to you. His cock scraping your most sensitive walls, you had given up concealing your screams long ago. "It's too much for—Mmmph!! 'S too muuuch..."

"Feelin' good there, princess?"

"Nmmph!! Y-Yess," drool starts to pool on the pillow you're resting on, but you're too occupied to feel ashamed of this lewd image you're exhibiting. "Feels so good, so goo—Ohhoooo!!" Your brows trench with eyes sewn shut, and your climax begins to climb quickly. With a choked cry, you come on Toji's dick for the second time that night, tears wetting the pillowcase while your cunt flutters on him as you release.

Regardless, Toji still ruts into you even when you're under a blissful haze, not until he's done with you. "Good girl, cummin' on my dick like that — Nmmph!!" He pulls out of you, spilling his load onto you, covering your asscheeks and lower back.

...who was surprised to see you again after a week, scheduling him with you on another weekend. Not like he had any objections to it, absolutely not. Because when he sees you give him a bashful smile and wave, he can't help but smirk and walk in your direction. "Well, hey, sweet thing." He'd greet and kiss your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Liked how I took care of you last time?"

You'd pull your stare to the ground yet give him a curt nod, the older man only finding your interaction adorable. "Uh-huh..." And Toji wastes no time wrapping an arm around your waist and walking with you to the nearest hotel.

And he's even more perplexed to see you two weekends after that...and the other two after that...Gradually, you've become a frequent client of his. That fact alone is enough to have him drop what he's about to do to have availability for you.

...who'd start to find himself slowly attracted to you the more you see him. It wasn't about the money when it came to you. In fact, no one knows you pay him significantly lower than the others. Can you blame him, though? When a doll like you always offers him to stay the night at your play after sex or treat him to meals sometimes, it's hard for the man to not feel some type of way about you. The two of you are aware that this relationship is founded on sex for the sake of your stress relief. Yet as the days go on, it's difficult for Toji to not fall in love and be enamored with your charming and sweet self.

Nevertheless, he'd be lying if he said the sex wasn't good between you two. Because it's quite the opposite, especially as Toji observes how sexually free you become with his visits. Whether it be you scratching on his back while he drills his dick into you, marking his tanned skin of your nails ("Oh, my God! I'm so sorry about that!" You'd apologize profusely, but he'd counter with a chuckle. "It's fine, cutie. It's not the first time I got scratched up by a kitten."). Or whether you'd allow him to convince you to try other positions — like his favorite, the full nelson.

Or, in times like this, when you'd have more confidence than before and ask if you'd ride him. And with a grin, Toji lies back and watches you bounce on his cock. An erotic image that he'd love to keep in his memory for as long as he can.

"Ohhh...Hmmm—Ahhnnn!!" Your cries as you straddle him in a desperate tempo, taking in his girth inch by inch, are music to his ears. The view of your beautiful, sweaty, hot body hopping on his dick is recorded with lustful forest-green eyes. "Ahhhh!! Feels so good, Toji, so—Ahhhh!!!"

"Not so fast there, sweetheart." Toji smacks your bare ass, prompting you to come down and lay your head on his shoulder. You look to see his eyes peer down to your teary ones."What's my name again?"

"Hmmm, sorry, Daddy," you correct yourself, your cunt twitching on his length when the title slips out. "Pleaseeee, forgive me—Eeeiiii!! Oh, Jesus..."

Toji grabs your butt with his hands, propelling them downward to match the jerk of his hips, and the tip of his length makes contact with your cervix. Choked sobs strain out from your throat as he kisses your temple. "Good girl, that's my fuckin' girl..."

Oh, fucking shit! It's coming. It's coming! "Daddy, please, I'm about to cum...Ohhhh, gonna cum—Mmmph!!" The older man silences you with his lips on yours, and you follow suit by wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the passionate kiss. The motion of your hips goes erratic with his, your orgasm coming up for the both of you with the increased speed. It's there you two succumb to climaxing, the walls of your slit clasping around his cock while he pumps the last of his essence into you. Groans and whimpers are exchanged between clingy mouths.

A wave of calm soon calms the air and your sweaty frames stick together. He resumes kissing you until your sensitive body has had enough, removing your lips from his teasing teeth. "Thank you, Toji. Thank you..."

Even out of breath, his scarred lip uproots to a smirk. "Y're so fuckin' cute, ya know that, mama?"

...who understands he's breaking his own rule when it's just you. It's never good mixing business with personal life. He was in it for the money from the start, and that mentality has done him well throughout the years. Do whatever the clients ask, take the money, and move on. Can't attach yourself to them. Now, he's found himself going against his motto; enjoying his time with you more than any of the others he's been with, looking forward to seeing you again to enjoy having you to himself. Whenever you aren't around him, it's evident that you will cloud his mind until you text or call.

But as he's stated before: as long as their cash in front of him and both parties get what they want, there's no need to have favorites...However, as long it's just you, he'll always be willing to make an exception.

[lowkeychenle]

Is It Over Now? [ZCL/PJS] (M)

Description: Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over?

A/N: this is inspired by Taylor Swift's Is It Over Now? and I highly recommend listening to it because omg...but also...keep in mind this poll and this poll determined the trajectory of this fic LOL

Genre: Smut/Angst

Content Warnings: This is very dirty idk y'all i'msosorry...but basically content warnings are infidelity (both reader & chenle, explicit on reader's part), some very crazy arguments (there are no physical fights but these can be triggering), explicit, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, use of pet names: baby, pretty girl, slut, whore (once maybe), and any variation of those. Buckle up y'all, this one is kinda crazy. Also kinda open ended sawry

Word Count: 11,198

Taglist: @nominsgirl @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @chezziy

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader | Park Jisung x fem!Reader

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

You know exactly where everything went wrong.

It’s what led you to the current situation you’re in—on top of one of your boyfriend’s closest friends with his hands all over you. Anger burns in your bones, and if you were capable of it any longer, you’d be crushed to dust at this point.

The roll of your hips causes a curse to fall from Jisung’s mouth. He grips your ass, the rough fabric of your jeans catching on his nails. The man under you is just as pissed as you are, and some sick form of revenge clouds both of your brains. He sinks his teeth into your bottom and tugs. If you’d felt at all guilty when you started this, it’s long gone now.

At least you and Jisung won’t be caught together in public.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Jisung hisses under his breath as you continue to grind on him.

You chuckle. “I know. It’s not the fucking first time either.”

He pulls away from you, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. The passion has all but melted from his face, but both of you are left panting.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks.

“I thought you knew.” The last thing you wanted was for this to be an emotional encounter, and if you let yourself think of how you trusted your boyfriend again after the first time he cheated, resentment will turn to pain. No. You fucking refuse.

“I would’ve told you,” Jisung continues, hand sliding up from your ass to the small of your back. “You really think I would’ve kept that from you?”

“All due respect, Jisung, but I’m not looking for a heart-to-heart right now.”

His jaw tightens, and the care resounds in his eyes, but he nods and reaches up to grip the back of your neck. He kisses you harder this time, his tongue dancing with yours as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. The fabric is silky against your skin, and feeling him so close to you has your fragmented heart racing in your chest and chills spiraling down your spine.

“Hurry up,” you tell him. “He’ll be home soon.”

In response, he tugs instead, and the remaining buttons pop open before he pushes your blouse off your shoulders. You have a clear view of the door this way, where you and Jisung sit at the edge of your bed. Climbing off his lap, you shuffle out of your jeans. You watch as Jisung takes his own off, the prominent bulge of his length straining against his boxers.

A swirl of doubt punches you in the gut, and for a moment, you’re winded. Does the hurt Chenle caused you justify this? Should you be choosing this route instead of just leaving?

“You can change your mind,” Jisung says, shuffling closer to the edge.

Snapping out of it, you shake your head and straddle his lap. His bottom lip is taken between his teeth as you grasp his length, freeing it from its confines. A haze takes over his eyes, his hips lifting into your fist.

You move your panties aside and line him up with your entrance. He inhales sharply.

“Fuck, hold on.” He grips your hips. “It might hurt if you don’t let me—”

“Promise you it can’t be any fucking worse than what I’m already going through.” You pause. “Condom? I’m clean and on birth control, so it’s up to you.”

“I’m clean, too.” He nods. “Raw is fine. Good.”

You laugh at the awkwardness, but begin your descent anyway. A moan gets caught in your throat as you struggle to fit him further. Your walls pulse around his cock, and an exhilarating adrenaline makes you feel higher than you’ve ever been. This life wasn’t what you imagined.

You never thought your boyfriend would be capable of sleeping with anyone else, and neither did you think you would be. Yet, here you are, following in Chenle’s footsteps. Jisung was probably a shitty move on your part. At least Chenle wasn’t fucking your friends, but you wanted to make sure he felt your pain—if he’ll even care at all.

Once he’s completely inside you, you grip onto his shoulders, your body trembling. To ease you, he reaches down and thumbs your clit. He kisses your neck, nudging one of your bra straps down your arm. You let out a sigh of pleasure, rolling your hips.

“Yeah, he’s fucking stupid.” Jisung hums into your skin, squeezing your ass. “You…fuck, you feel good.”

“Hope it was all worth it for him,” you mumble, slowly starting to lift your hips up.

He assists you in your pace, an arm around your waist to help. After a few moments, the awkward stretch becomes pleasure. You curse under your breath and pick up your pace, eyes rolling back as he thrusts up to match you.

Each movement of his is punctuated by short, low groans, and your entire being tingles from how deep he is inside you, how this is somehow a signal of your freedom. His tip presses against your cervix and you cry out.

Jisung slaps your ass, and the desperate tug inside you to speed up becomes too much to ignore. In your delirium, you almost miss Chenle standing in the doorway. Maybe you’re imagining it, but as you fuck yourself on Jisung’s cock, you stare right at him, a weak laugh escaping your lips.

You roughly tangle your fingers in Jisung’s hair—something you know drives Chenle crazy when you do it to him—and tug him up to kiss you, moving your hips faster. The other man’s presence just spurs you forward.

Jisung’s fingers connect with your clit again, and your broken moan and blurry vision almost make you miss the way Chenle’s jaw tightens. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, slamming you into a wall of pleasure as you spasm on top of Jisung. Right before your eyesight fails you completely, you see Chenle walk away.

Jisung spills inside you, coating your walls with white. You kiss him hard, panting as you lift yourself off him. He’s dazed, but eventually settles himself back in his boxers before getting up for his jeans. You redress, knowing full well Chenle’s waiting in the kitchen. It’ll most likely be an argument, but you can’t help the adrenaline flowing through your veins at the thought.

Jisung is still blissfully unaware Chenle’s in the house, so when he pulls you in for a kiss, you sigh. You grab his hand and lead him out of your bedroom, and the sight of the other man gripping the counter makes him freeze.

Chenle downs the rest of whatever’s in his cup—it’s safe to assume what the bronze liquid is as he swallows and cringes. He doesn’t look at either of you.

“You should go.” Glancing at Jisung, you catch the worried gleam in his gaze.

“Will you be okay?” he asks.

“The fuck does that mean?” Chenle snaps. “Get the fuck out, Jisung.”

“Call me if you need me.” Jisung hesitantly leaves your side, and once the door closes behind him, you slide your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

“Really?” Chenle finally breaks the silence. “You could’ve picked anyone, and you fuck Jisung?”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” You snort and walk over to the fridge to grab a water bottle. Untwisting the cap, you turn back to Chenle, unaccustomed to his glare being directed at you. “What? It’s okay for you to fuck anyone you want, but when I do it, it’s wrong?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t fuck anyone but you.”

“You really think I didn’t see that?” You shake your head, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “There were pictures, you dumbass. And now I can’t even act like I’m ignorant. I can’t act like you love me anymore, Chenle. Be serious right now.”

“Oh, right, because being seen with a girl has to mean I’m fucking her, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re just insecure, (Y/N), and I can’t fucking help you with that. Did you think fucking Jisung would make me want you more? May as well add crazy to the list, too.”

Under different circumstances, you know those words would kill you. They’d be like bullets fragmenting in your heart, but today? For some reason, everything shut off. You don’t want him anymore, and your irritation sparks at the base of your spine.

“You putting this on me is fucking hilarious.” Your voice is sharp, and you hope you return his bullets as knives.

“We’re fucked.” He pours more liquor into his glass, a scowl on his face as he downs it. “Are you kidding me? I make a mistake one time, and you go out of your way to screw my friend? Did you think you could hurt me or something?”

“Don’t know.” You shrug.

“The sooner you admit we were over long before I ever slept with anyone else, the easier it’ll be for both of us. You’re being a child by inviting Jisung over here.” His grip on the counter tightens.

And just like that, something inside you snaps.

“You did this, Chenle. You fucked up, you ruined everything, you are a piece of shit.” You jab your finger in his direction. “At least I had the decency not to get caught in public. You don’t even care at all. Not even a little bit. And it’s so fucking frustrating because I do everything for you.”

“Bullshit,” he says.

“Was it over when you brought that girl here? Was it? Because you cried and begged for me to stay. You said it was a mistake, and you’d never be able to love anyone the same way you love me. You really think it was over, Chenle? Then what the fuck are you still doing here?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You fucking did it again!” you yell, hands tugging at your hair. “You want me to be the bad guy so bad, but all of this is on you. The blame is on you. You’re the one that can’t keep it in your pants. What are you searching all these beds for, huh? You want something better than me?”

“Fuck,” he shouts, hand swiping across the counter.

Time slows as his palm comes in contact with his glass, as he sends it flying into the cabinet, as it shatters beneath his force. How fucking ironic you relate to it.

Your chest heaves, your heart twisting harshly. How did you get here? How did love turn into something so fucking awful, you can’t stand looking at him? The silence is deafening after the shards scatter onto the floor.

The visceral reaction you get surprises even you. You tilt your head back, your body shaking with laughter.

“You’re so pathetic.” Tears well in your eyes, but the laughs cause you to run out of air. You grip onto the counter. “I fucking hate you. I hate you.”

“(Y/N), I’m—”

“Sorry?” Another bout of giggles passes through your lips. “I don’t care. Don’t you get that now? I hate you and I don’t fucking care what you have to say.”

“Baby, don’t—”

“You said it was over, Chenle. Is it over now? Because I’m done…I’m so done, and I don’t want to look at you anymore. Get the fuck out of my house, and I never want to see you again. I fucking mean it.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t do this. She didn’t mean anything, and I know Jisung doesn’t mean anything to you, either.” He steps closer to you, glass crunching beneath his feet.

“Should’ve thought about that before you did it again. Leave.” After a few moments of him standing there like a statue, you shout, “Get the fuck out!”

Your throat is raw from yelling, and you’re halfway certain he’s not going to listen to you. He doesn’t usually, but as bad as your fights have gotten, they haven’t quite been this bad. With thousands of emotions written across his face like poetry, he brushes his shirt off and storms past you, slamming the door behind him without one glance back.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each thump hurting more than the last. Nausea takes you by storm, and you’d collapse if you weren’t leaning on the counter for support. You don’t even know who to call. Nobody you know takes care of you better than Chenle does after moments like these, and as your shortness of breath takes over full swing, you turn and sink down to the floor.

But the first step to quitting a drug is to stop supplying it to your bloodstream. To feel the numb of the high seeping away while the pain comes rushing back.

The tears you refused to allow earlier pour down your cheeks, and you drop your head back against the cupboard. Glass gleams next to you, twinkling innocently in the light of your kitchen. Through your blurry vision, it’s almost beautiful—an array of lights in the darkness that plagues your home.

When you grab your phone, you don’t know who’s number you call. You press it to your ear and pray it’s not Chenle.

“(Y/N)?” Jisung’s voice filters through immediately, and it makes your body wrack with another sob.

“Are you far?” you ask, voice thick and warbled.

“Not at all,” he offers instantly. “Do you want me to come back?”

You close your eyes and sniffle. “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes. Are you okay?” The hint of panic laced in his tone has new tears forming.

“Don’t know.” You wipe your face. “I don’t fucking know.”

However long it takes him to get there, you’re unsure. The next thing you recall, Jisung crouches in front of you, eyes wide with concern. Guilt sinks into your stomach and twists it around, and you look up at him like he’s the key to making you feel better.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out. “I’m sorry, Sungie, I don’t know why I did that to you. To him. I—”

“Hey, don’t worry about that right now.” His deep voice resonates in your chest, and it works to calm you slightly. He cups your cheeks and guides you up to make eye contact. “Are you hurt? There’s glass everywhere.”

You shake your head. “He wouldn’t.”

“There are a whole lot of things I thought he wouldn’t do. I have to make sure. Can you stand? Let’s get you away from all this.” He leads you to your feet, bringing you into your bedroom.

A few moments of silence pass as he helps you into your bed.

“Just get some rest, okay?” he whispers, his hands cupping your face.

“Where are you going?” you ask. “Don’t go, please.” You hold onto his wrist as if that’ll keep him with you.

“I’m just gonna clean up your kitchen,” he replies. “I won’t leave unless you want me to.”

You take a deep breath. “Can you stay for a few more minutes? I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

You scoot over and glance at the spot next to you, and he obliges with your request. Both of you slide beneath the covers, and you turn to face him before burying your head in his chest. He cradles you closer to him, his warmth calming you slowly.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs.

His heart thumps erratically in his chest as he holds you, but the sound still manages to soothe you.

“Yeah,” you tell him, shuffling closer. “Thank you.”

He hums in response and presses his lips gently against your hairline. There are so many things wrong with your situation and your life, but for once, you feel a real equilibrium. Despite the pain wrenching away at your heart from the weight of Chenle’s absence, you find that all over again with Jisung’s firm grip on you.

Usually, when you and Chenle get into your arguments, the longest he goes without contacting you is two days. You’re now bordering on three and a half weeks, and the thought of him still makes you sick to your stomach. You haven’t heard a single word from him. Hell, you wouldn’t even know if he’s alive.

Jisung has become more of a rock than anything else. He’s equally as disappointed in Chenle as you are at this point, but he makes it a point to stay with you as much as he can. Today, for example, things are quiet. Peaceful. Your few weeks with Jisung have been so…different. You and Chenle couldn’t go more than a few days without an explosive argument, and now you haven’t raised your voice in all this time.

Jisung is soft. Kind, even. He shows you the side of himself you wish Chenle could’ve been before your relationship blew up into smithereens.

Your head rests on his shoulder, his fingers playing with your hair while his eyes are engrossed by the television screen in front of you. The lights are off, the sky is dark, but the gentle blues and greens illuminate the softness of his features.

“Sungie,” you whisper in an attempt to garner his attention.

He turns to you, his eyebrows raised. “Hm?”

“Why are you doing this for me?” you ask. “He’s your best friend.”

“He was.” Jisung nods. “And it sucks. But I’m not going to be friends with someone who treats people who love them like shit. You deserve so much more than that, (Y/N), really. He—what he did was fucked up.”

“I did it, too.” You shrug, fighting the way tears threaten to form in your eyes.

He wets his lips. “Yeah, but only after he did it twice.”

“That makes it okay?”

“No.” Jisung looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting. “No, it doesn’t. But you were hurting and you retaliated in a way you thought would hurt him back. I would’ve done the same thing in your position.”

“You seriously had no idea what he was doing?” you ask.

“I didn’t have a fucking clue. He knows I would’ve told you immediately.” He sighs.

“Do you care about me?” You tilt your head at him, scanning over his face for any indication of annoyance. Anything that might tip you off that he’ll get angry with you.

He blinks once, a miniscule smile pulling at his mouth. “Of course, I do. I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

He nods.

“Will you…will you kiss me?”

His jaw drops as he flounders for something to say. “That…”

“I’ll be honest with you, Sungie. My relationship with Chenle has been fucked for a really long time. I can’t remember the last time I meant it when I told him I loved him. But…I do. Love him. Miss him. It hurts like hell knowing he’s probably okay right now, with some other girl like I never mattered to him.” You inhale deeply, and your exhale shakes. “He’s all I’ve ever known. I just…want to make sure I can feel. That he didn’t get to keep all of that when he left.”

“And kissing me will do what?” He taps his fingers on his thighs. “What if it just makes you want him more?”

“I can’t. Going back to him is…I can’t do it again. But I need to know I can still function if he’s not the one…” you trail off, deflating entirely. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I asked, okay? I’m being ridiculous.”

You avoid his gaze entirely, staring off in the opposite direction. With Chenle, every touch, every kiss, every intimate moment was a direct result of something negative. It didn’t start that way, but it sure ended up there. Your mouths only met in anger after spewing hate at each other, and you’re not sure what a real, loving kiss feels like anymore.

Jisung reaches up and cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to his. His eyes dip down toward your lips, and your breath catches in your chest. It’s been so long since your heart has fluttered, but he makes it look so damn easy.

“You sure?”

The TV is long forgotten as you nod, your anticipation growing as he draws nearer. You forget to breathe, and once his lips brush yours, you gasp.

You close the last of the distance, the idea of being so close to him—to someone motivating you further. Kissing Jisung is worlds different from kissing Chenle. From the tenderness of his touch to the shape of his lips, not a single thing about him is reminiscent of Chenle. For some reason, disappointment weighs heavily on your chest.

But being with him is better than being alone, and you can’t deny the attraction being there. You remember the way he felt inside you, how he reached spots you didn’t know existed. You tangle your fingers in his hair, groaning against him.

“Jisung.” It comes out more as a whimper than anything else, and he freezes.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

Without another moment of hesitation, you throw your leg over his lap and straddle him, slowly sinking down until you feel him pressed against you. He grasps onto the back of your shirt.

“Are you thinking about it, too?” you ask, leaning in to kiss along his neck.

He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I probably shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” You lean back, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Is this weird for you?”

“Um.” He grips your thigh tightly, lips parting as he tries to think of what to say. “Not because of him, if that’s what you mean.”

Your chest tightens at the mention of Chenle, even without his name. Jisung agreed to be with you once, and you’re not sure if he was fueled by any attraction to you at all.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. When I tell you I don’t want to hurt you, I mean it.” He pauses, analyzing you. “C’mon, you’ve gotta know I want you.”

He pulls you closer to him, and your breath hitches when you feel how hard he is.

“I want you. But I need to be sure it’s really me you want.”

Your heart sinks. “Now you mean Chenle.”

“It’s not a bad thing, (Y/N). I get it. You’ve been through a lot with him and you have a bond I might not understand. That’s fine. But if we’re going to start something, it can’t be when you’re confused.” He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, unashamed as he stares at your mouth.

“I’m not confused, Sungie.” You shake your head. “I don’t want him anymore. When I said I was done, I meant it.”

“It’s okay either way. You were with him for a long time. It’s normal to hurt over stuff like this.” Jisung gives you a small smile.

“If you don’t want to right now, we can stop,” you tell him. “But it’s you I want. I promise.”

His fingers weave into your hair, inching you nearer to him. Right before your mouths meet, his gaze meets yours.

“I hope you know how many good things you deserve,” he mutters.

And then he kisses you, the softness of it taking you off guard. You melt into him, and despite hating how you notice the difference between him and Chenle again, you realize you might like this more than what you had before. It’s been so long since the person who was supposed to love you actually cared.

When his tongue meets yours, you sigh and hold onto him. He gets lost in you, hands gripping your hips to guide you back and forth on top of him. Even through layers of clothing, you feel how hard he is.

When a knock sounds on your door, you resolve to ignore it. You don’t care about whatever or whoever’s out there if you have Jisung. He tries to pull away, but you whine.

“Ignore it,” you tell him, your mouth still against his. “Ignore it. Please don’t stop.”

As soon as he kisses you again, a louder rapping noise follows, and you groan, dropping your head on his shoulder.

“You want me to get it?” he asks.

You shake your head, grumbling as you slide off his lap. “I got it.”

Without another word, you ignore the dampness between your legs and head over to your door with one last glance over your shoulder at Jisung. When you open it and see who’s standing outside, you recoil hard.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re not sure why you’re even entertaining this at all. Chenle stands before you, his eyebrows pinched together as he formulates his response. As to not alert Jisung of his presence, you keep your voice down.

“It’s been weeks and I haven’t heard from you.” He sighs. “I know we fought, but we never go this long without talking. I miss you.”

You don’t mean to laugh, but you do anyway. “You don’t miss me. I already told you we’re done. And I meant it this time, Chenle. You have to leave.”

“Why aren’t you letting me in?” He snorts. “Be fucking for real, we always end up right where we started. This time isn’t any different.”

“It is, though.” You pause, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m done. Honestly, if I never see you again, I’ll be better off.”

“You don’t really mean that.” He frowns.

“Yes, I do.”

“You can’t get mad at me for what I did when you did the exact same thing. We’ll call it even and start over.” Chenle stops, gaze mapping out every inch of you before he continues. “Why do you look like that?”

“Excuse me? Look like what?”

“Your face is all red, and your hair is messed up—” Whatever interrupts him has irritation creating a scowl on his face.

You’re only confused for a second before an arm wraps around your waist, fingers tapping against your hip. Heart twisting, you gape as you glance between Jisung and Chenle. Nerves eat away at you since you’re not sure what the latter will do, but you grasp onto Jisung’s wrist.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chenle lets out a short chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re both fucking insane.”

His words alone are almost enough to make you want to remove yourself from Jisung’s hold, but you know you’re safest right where you’re at.

But seeing Chenle in front of you again for the first time in weeks has you yearning for him. To kiss him, to hear him laugh, to simply just have someone who loves you. You have to keep reminding yourself that he doesn’t. Love hasn’t been in the equation for much too long.

“Let her go.” Chenle practically stares into Jisung’s soul. “See if she still wants you when you’re not holding her away from me.”

Jisung tenses behind you, and the hesitation behind his touch leaving you can only mean one thing—he believes him. He’s worried what Chenle is saying is true. That you’ll never want him in the same way you want Chenle.

Chenle’s gaze, so painfully familiar, settles on yours. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you recognize what this is.

It’s the beginning of the cycle.

It’s how he tricks you into thinking he’ll be better for you.

In his eyes, he begs you to come back to him. He makes you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally be what you’ve wanted him to be. What you needed him to be.

“C’mon, baby, we’ll forget this ever happened. I don’t blame you for being lonely and needing someone. He was just there. I know.”

Through your peripheral vision, you see Jisung’s fist clench at his side. The longer you stay silent, the more nervous the man behind you becomes. Your insides are at war. Not even ten minutes ago, you were sure you wanted Jisung. You had been reassuring him of that.

Now, seeing Chenle again for the first time in weeks, you’re practically weak in the knees. You want him, but not the man you’ve grown used to. You want who he used to be in the beginning—the person who loved you endlessly, who always put you first, who never went out of his way to hurt you in order to make you small enough to want him back.

No.

Because 491 days ago, he broke your heart for the first time. He was never going to admit to you what he did. Instead, he hid it, and the only reason you found out was through a text message that came through when he was showing you something on his phone.

You’re tired of it. Of being hurt and picking up shattered glass when he doesn’t want to be called out for his shitty actions.

“You’re wrong,” you mumble, terrified of the words leaving your mouth. After all, this means he’ll be gone for good. You won’t ever love him again. “Jisung wasn’t just there.”

Chenle recoils, narrowing his eyes. “Right. Because you’re suddenly in love with him, huh?”

“I care about him.” You reach back and grab his hand.

“If you pick him right now, you better be damn sure that’s what you want,” he snaps. “You’re making a huge fucking mistake, (Y/N). He’ll never be me.”

“That’s good. I don’t want him to be.” You shake your head. “I meant it when I said I was done.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth before glaring at Jisung. “You’re fucking dead to me. Some friend you are, trying to steal my fucking girl from me. That was your plan the whole time, wasn’t it? You were just waiting for the opportunity to swoop in and save the day.”

“You did this yourself,” Jisung replies. “She wouldn’t be with me if you were enough for her.”

Your chest tightens, preparing for Chenle to retaliate. You squeeze Jisung’s hand, and his thumb rubs over your knuckles. Over the course of your much too long relationship with Chenle, you quickly came to realize how close he and Jisung were. They were best friends, inseparable, really, and now the only thing stopping them from fighting is you. Right in the middle, you stand between them physically and metaphorically.

Instead, Chenle glances up to the ceiling, a laugh escaping him before he turns around without another word and disappears down the hallway. You slap your hand over your mouth when a shaky breath surpasses your lips, quickly reaching forward to shut the door. You lean against it for a moment, resting your forehead on the wood as Jisung stands silent behind you.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. “That was a lot.”

You don’t say anything. Between the way your heart beats at a hundred miles a minute, how your brain swirls, and how your stomach twists, the only thing you can do is suck in a loud, sharp inhale as you fight the urge to bawl your eyes out.

He moves closer to you, putting his hand on your shoulder. The touch sends a pang through your body, and you have to smack him away. Everything is so overwhelming, and knowing Chenle is gone for good is making you question every choice you’ve ever made leading up to this moment.

Once upon a time, you were convinced he was the love of your life. You were sure things were going to be perfect forever, but God, how far from the truth could you have been?

Jisung stays silent while you regain your composure. He waits patiently, but every little sound is amplified in your ears, so the creak of the wood beneath his feet as he rocks back and forth has everything crashing down around you.

You crumble, but somehow in the midst of it, Jisung’s arm wraps around your waist and tugs you close to him so you don’t fall. Fighting your tears, you clench your eyes shut. Over the years you spent with Chenle, you learned never to show how much something could hurt you. Showing emotion to anyone gives them the opportunity to hurt you, and Chenle took it one too many times.

“It’s okay,” Jisung whispers, sinking to the floor with you. “Tell me what you need. I’m here for you.”

You take a shuddering breath, but instead of saying anything, you turn and bury yourself in Jisung’s chest. His heart pounds in rhythm with yours, but he doesn’t seem outwardly anxious. He talks to you softly in an attempt to guide you. You don’t want to put this burden on him. Even then, all you can think about is Chenle, and how everything is over.

All the effort you put in to overcome the problems he created. Every argument you thought was worth it because maybe this one would lead somewhere. Maybe this breakdown would encourage him to change. Maybe this home you created for him would finally be enough.

It never was, and it never will be. How could it? He’s more interested in keeping you just to say he can. Chenle doesn’t love you, and you don’t love him. At least, you don’t think you do.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Jisung, shaking your head. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I know.” He cradles you to his chest. “I know. It’s okay, now. It’s all over.”

But for some reason, that alone hurts more than anything Chenle ever said to you.

More days pass. They turn into weeks, and you honestly start to feel like you’ll be okay. This morning especially when you wake up to the sensation of Jisung’s lips on your neck. He hums against your skin, tongue tracing over your pulse.

You’d been nervous to initiate anything with Jisung again, but last night, one thing led to another, and the two of you ended up in bed with your legs around his waist.

Jisung makes you feel safe. You’re not sure what about that makes you crave him so much, but you easily melt into his touch. Pressing yourself closer to his warmth, you run your fingers through his hair.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is deeper in the morning with a slight rasp to it.

“Never been better.” You’re not lying. Everything with him is peaceful.

His hand moves down your side to squeeze your hip, and further until he’s resting on your thigh.

“Sungie,” you mutter.

“Yeah?”

“If you want something, tell me. Teasing isn’t nice.” You put your hand on top of his.

He chuckles, nipping at the base of your neck. “Maybe I just like touching you.”

“There are innocent places to touch.” You move him toward the apex of your thighs, suppressing a shaky breath. “But let’s forget those exist.”

You feel his smirk on your skin, and when he brushes against your clit, you curse quietly. He hooks his ankle with yours to give himself better access, and he finds your entrance already wet.

“You sure it’s me who wanted it?” He tsks.

You open your mouth to respond, but he slides two of his long fingers inside you. A moan escapes instead, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks and between your legs. Your brain is still fogged with sleep, which must mean that’s part of why it feels so fucking good. You fall into the pleasure, gripping the sheets in front of you.

“Can’t think of anything else but you,” he whispers, pumping his hand at a steady pace. “How you sound, how you feel, how you taste. Just you.”

Your eyes clench shut as you relish in the way he makes you feel, his gentle movements making you need him that much more. Rocking your hips, you practically melt into him. Something about the early morning sun and still being tired from the night before has you getting closer and closer without much effort from either of you.

His lips brush your ear. “Feel good, baby?”

Your walls clamp down on him, and you let out a moan in response to his question. Butterflies swarm in your stomach, and while you’re desperate to finish, you also wouldn’t mind sitting here like this forever.

“Jisung,” you whine. “Please.”

He tilts your head back and kisses you hard, his thumb finding your clit as he continues. You cry out into his mouth, back arching at the pleasure swirling around you. Your insides twist and turn and you’re only half-sure you’ll ever come down from this.

Unfortunately for you, the high fades as he guides you through it. Once he pulls out of you, you turn to face him. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning your arousal off as his eyes flutter shut at your taste.

You push his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, and when you straddle his lap, he stares up at you in awe as the blanket falls from your shoulders. Reaching down, you line him up with your entrance. His lips part, and he sucks in a quick breath.

You sink down slowly, thighs shaking as you allow him to fill you. He curses, his nails digging into your hips. The more you take him, the tighter his grip on you becomes. You missed the feeling of this—of being full and seeing the pleasure you could cause someone else.

Once he’s completely buried inside you, he holds you down by your hips, eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“Don’t move yet,” he mutters, voice thick. “God, are you really gonna make me cum just like this?”

Jisung explores every inch of your body, his hands leaving your hips to squeeze your ass, tracing up until he finds your breasts. His thumbs rub against your nipples, and you jolt, doing your best to refrain from taking him the way you want.

“Can I move?” you ask breathlessly. “Please, Sungie.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Of course, baby, show me how much you want me.”

You heat up at the sound of that, and when his grip loosens on you, you lift yourself up. The slow drag of him against your walls has you wanting to collapse already. He studies you closely, somewhat amused by your struggle to take him completely.

You move through your sensitivity, sinking back down and swiveling your hips. He thrusts up, and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. You whine, opting to continue your pace. As soon as he’s about to slide out of you, you allow him to fill you all over again.

He matches you, fucking up into you when you’ve already taken him halfway. Sounds of your arousal fill the room while he moves inside you, and he lifts his head to watch where he disappears in you.

You’re numbed by the pleasure, so much so that you’re barely able to hear the moans and quiet praises falling from his lips.

He squeezes your breasts, fingers tweaking your nipples. His eyes are everywhere, entranced by everything you are as you fuck yourself on his cock. A band starts to tighten in your stomach, but all you want is to make him feel good.

You grab one of his wrists, tugging down in the hopes he’ll get the idea. He places his palm flat on your stomach as he makes his way down slowly, slowly, smirking as you whine at him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, thumbing your clit in perfect circles.

Your pace falters as you feel the euphoria approaching, unable to keep up. He stops, cursing as you clench hard around him. You let out a frustrated moan but opt to keep bouncing on him through your sensitivity.

“Don’t stop,” he commands. “It’s gonna feel better if you keep going.”

“Jisung, please.” Your walls flutter around him, and when he returns to your sensitive bud, you both know it won’t take long at all.

Your orgasm slams into you, but you force yourself to keep moving. Curses leave your mouth in a string as the knot unravels faster than you thought possible. Your walls clench around him. The tremor in your thighs makes it hard to keep moving, but you refuse to stop until he’s done.

He sits up, pulling you flush against his chest as he thrusts up into you. You bury your head in his neck and hold onto him tightly, the cloud of pleasure enough to make you lightheaded.

Once he’s as deep as he can get, he moans and spills inside you. Both of you pant, sweat making your skin stick together. And then his lips are on yours, soft in contrast with all of the overwhelming feelings happening.

His nails gently drag along your spine as he kisses down your neck.

“(Y/N),” he says.

“Hm?” is all you can muster.

“I really, really like you. A lot.” His mouth brushes against your shoulder. “And…this was probably the worst time to say that. But it’s true.”

“I like you, too.”

He doesn’t see your smile, but you feel his.

“No matter what happens,” he says, inhaling deeply. “Just know I won’t let you down, okay?”

“I know, Sungie.” You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, still attempting to calm down from your whirlwind. “I trust you.”

He flips you over, holding himself up on his elbows while he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Gonna clean you up, okay?”

You hum in response, letting out a sigh when he pulls out of you. Waiting for him to return, you don’t move a muscle, instead, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of warmth he’s left all over your body.

He cleans up the mess between your legs with a towel, and then he’s climbing back into bed next to you. Tugging you close, he scans over your face.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Is it about him?” You force the words out, but the thought of Chenle at a time like this has your stomach twisting in unpleasant ways. It’s better for you when you just…don’t think of him at all. Only then are you able to completely enjoy your time with Jisung.

He chews on his bottom lip, nodding once. “Yeah.”

“Of course, you can. You just can’t get upset at my answers.”

“I won’t.” He pauses, taking a deep breath as he traces his finger down your arm. “Do you miss him?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, I guess a part of me does. But I don’t know if that’s me missing him or the craziness and the pain. Because after a while…”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “It’s okay.”

“After a while, the pain starts to…feel normal. Good, even. Like I trained myself to crave the dysfunctional shit we did. In my mind, I thought all couples fought the same way we did. And everyone says fighting is normal, and if you’re not, you don’t really care about the relationship. So, in some sick, twisted way, I saw those arguments as us just…loving each other. Loudly.”

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” Jisung replies. “It’s not right.”

“It wasn’t just him, Sungie. It was me, too. C’mon, I literally asked you to help me because I thought it would hurt him.” You laugh at yourself, but ultimately, the conversation tears the barely healed wound in your heart open all over again.

“Sounds like he pushed you there.”

“I still made that decision. I could’ve been the bigger person and kept my hands clean,” you explain.

“Do you regret it?” he asks, a genuine fear laced in his gaze. “Do you still want him?”

Your hesitation has his fear twisting into hurt, but his face doesn’t change. It’s just the emotions swirling in his brown eyes that give you any indication of his feelings.

“Listen to me,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb over his skin. “I don’t regret it. Do I wish we started this in a different way? Yeah, I do. But what’s done is done, and I don’t think it would change anything for me and him.”

He places his hand over yours. “I won’t pretend like I understand, because I’ve never been in that kind of situation before. I just can’t believe he would fucking do something like that. To you of all people.”

“Sungie, I’m not perfect.” You give him a tiny smile. “I’ve said and done things I shouldn’t have. Regardless of everything else, this was the ultimate betrayal, wasn’t it? He might have done it first, but I’m with you. It isn’t just sex.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t think it’s just his, either. We fell apart long before he ever cheated in the first place.” Tears well in your eyes, and you shake your head. “I don’t wanna talk about him anymore.”

He kisses your forehead, tugging you to his chest. “That’s okay. Let’s spend all day right here, okay?”

You nod. “I’d love that.”

Your first mistake of the day was leaving your house. You’re not sure what spurred you into going out to get takeout considering all of the leftovers you have in your fridge, but life is clearly too short to worry about semantics. Your sunglasses block the sun out of your eyes, and as you push the door to the restaurant open, you place them on top of your head instead.

You don’t notice at first. After all, you’re starving and Jisung is at his own house tonight, so the only thing you’re focused on is ordering your food so you can eat.

You tell the nice lady your order, and when you’re done, you feel eyes on you—a prickly feeling beginning at the base of your spine that slowly weaves its way up each vertebrae until you find yourself turning around against your will.

In an instant, your hunger is replaced with an ache that has your stomach twisting and curling. Chenle meets your gaze, sitting at the table in the far corner. Your lungs refuse to fill when you also recognize that he’s not alone. A girl sits across from him, and her back faces you. She seems too engrossed in the story she’s telling Chenle to realize he’s no longer listening to her. He’s honed in on you, on how stiff you’re standing at the mere sight of him.

You’re not with him anymore. Of course, he’s free to see any girl he wants now. Why are you so upset? You’ve got Jisung. There’s no need for you to feel this way, to feel how your heart beats painfully slow, threatening to stop altogether at the thought of his hands on her the same way he used to touch you.

At least you two aren’t together this time, right?

At least he’s not betraying your trust, your love, and your soul simply because he’s bored, right?

The lump in your throat is impossible to swallow past, and now all you want is to run home and never be seen again. Your appetite has diminished, and you feel yourself reverting back into who you were with him.

Whatever’s going on inside you is exactly the same as the two times you caught him while you were together.

You’re not over him. For some fucking reason, you still want him.

You curse under your breath, but you’re unable to pull your gaze away from his. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t look smug at all, but like he’s admiring you. As if he misses you, and whatever void he’s been trying to fill is just…perpetually empty.

The lady clearing her throat catches your attention. She hands you your bag, and you thank her and quickly depart the restaurant without a second glance at Chenle. While you refuse to let yourself cry, you can’t stop thinking about him even after you’ve been home for an hour. Your food remains untouched, and you pace around your kitchen like everything bad Chenle has ever done has dissipated into thin air.

You know exactly how this is going to play out. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to reach out to you, and you’re not strong enough to turn him away now. Even when you have Jisung, who has done nothing but be perfect to you, you just can’t fucking get out of this trap.

You should call Jisung. Tell him what happened and that you need him, but you don’t. There’s a sneaking suspicion that floods through your bones when you realize you don’t want to. Calling him means he’ll prevent you from talking to Chenle, and then Chenle will go back to whoever that girl is and do everything you like to her.

You curse under your breath, grasping onto the edge of the counter.

Will Jisung ever be enough for you?

Is peace…arbitrary? Redundant? Is it not what you want?

The whole time you were with Chenle, it’s what you craved. Stability, peace, love. Three things you never got, and now you have them. But it’s not the same with Jisung. You don’t want those things with anyone but Chenle, but at the same time, silence is unbearably loud. Louder than any of the times you’ve yelled at Chenle or vice versa.

In chaos, you flourish. Maybe…maybe, you’re unable to function without chaos. Perhaps that’s what keeps you alive, your gears turning, and your life harmonious.

How the fuck does that work? Is this all you’re good for?

Just like you predicted, a knock sounds at your door. With your palms sweating, you check through the peephole first, and your suspicions are confirmed. Chenle stands there, waiting for you to let him in.

You have two choices here.

You could ignore him. Leave him standing alone in your apartment complex’s hallway like the dumbass he is, floundering for your attention. You could choose Jisung, the peace and tranquility you know is suitable for the long term.

Or…

Or you could have him again. You could complete yourself in the only way you know how. Maybe the cycle will end this time. He’s been without you for so long, he might have learned his lesson.

It’s not even a fucking competition in your brain.

You unlock the door, confronting him face-to-face—alone—for the first time since you left him. Or made him leave, is more like it.

He doesn’t leave time for awkwardness or pleasantries. Instead, he launches himself forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he smashes his lips to yours. In his grasp, you’re absolutely pliant, melting right into him just like you’ve done every other time before.

You moan into his mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt. Too much time has passed already, so the last thing you want is to wait any more. The kiss is messy, rough in a way that has your teeth clashing together and tongues wrestling for dominance.

Jisung is great. Jisung is nice, but he’s not Chenle.

Chenle’s not scared of being rough, of the messiness you’ve craved without him.

“Hi, baby,” Chenle murmurs, pulling his shirt over his head before dipping back down to kiss along your neck. “I fucking missed you.”

You’re ashamed of how the feelings of uncertainty have turned into lust. It sends heat throughout your entire body, and you hate how damp you feel between your legs already.

“S’okay.” He nips against your pulse. “I know you missed me, too. Don’t waste that pretty little voice on words when I could make you moan instead.”

Much to his surprise, you push him back, chest heaving as you allow your gaze to rake over him. Unfortunately for you, you’ve never been attracted to anyone the way you are with Chenle. Even his mistreatment of you isn’t enough to make that fade.

Without hesitation, you pull your T-shirt off and toss it across the room. The next thing you know, he’s moving forward again, turning you around and pushing your stomach against the island. The chill has you pushing back against him, but it’s nothing compared to how hot every inch of your skin is.

“How many times?” he asks, grinding against your ass as he unbuttons your jeans and unzips them.

“What?” You’re unable to concentrate on anything except how close his fingers are to where you need them most.

He kisses your shoulder before nudging your bra strap down. Moving to the other, he repeats his action. “How many times have you fucked Jisung?”

“Chenle, I—”

“Don’t lie to me, slut. Tell me how many times you screwed my best friend.”

Your eyes nearly roll back. “Four. Five. I don’t know.”

“Are we fucking even now? That’s what you wanted, huh? A little bit of adventure because I fucked up?” His fingers close in around the sides of your neck. “You got it, baby. Don’t you ever…ever fuck him again, got it? Only I get you.”

You clench your thighs together, and a whimper gets caught in the back of your throat. At this point, you’d tell him anything to get him to touch you. And despite Jisung being the topic of conversation, he’s the last damn thing on your mind.

His breath fans across your ear, and through gritted teeth, he says, “If you want to cum tonight, you better fucking agree with me.”

“I won’t.” You quickly shake your head and force the words out through his grip on your throat. “Don’t want anyone else touching me but you.”

As a reward, his hand slips into your jeans. His fingertips connect with your clit through your panties, and your hips jolt.

“He can’t be doing a good job if you’re still so wet for me.” Chenle tsks. “I warned you he could never be me.”

You whine in response, grinding down onto his touch for more stimulation.

“What was it you said?” His circles on your bud are achingly slow.

“Chenle, please—”

“That’s not it.” He stops rubbing you, moving to take his hand out of your jeans.

“No, no.” You push his wrist down. “Fuck, I said I didn’t want him to be you. Please don’t stop.”

You feel his smirk against your skin as he returns to his slow, pleasure-filled torture. He rolls his hips, pressing his hard, straining cock against your ass. The counter digs almost uncomfortably into your midriff, but you couldn’t possibly care at a time like this. He leans back a bit to unclasp your bra, and while both of you are distracted with that, his hand moves inside your panties, tracing along your entrance before slowly sliding two fingers in.

You grip the edge of the counter, pushing back to tell him how much you need him. As soon as your bra falls to the floor, he’s pulling out of you, trailing his sticky fingers up your body until he reaches your breasts. He squeezes you, caging you in his grasp, his chest against your back as he uses your arousal to wet your nipples before he rubs his thumbs over them. 

Your back arches and your head falls back against him, quiet moans spilling from your lips at his slow pace. Every inch of you is on fire, and you crave him way too much for your own good.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he hums, and while his hands pleasure your tits, you can’t help but wish it was his mouth. His tongue is sinful, and you want all he has to offer.

When you rub your thighs together, you whine at the friction, your body sensitive from your need.

“Bet you just wanna be bent over and fucked like the little slut you are, huh?” He chuckles darkly. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna forget your own name.”

He pushes your jeans down your thighs, but doesn’t get them past your knees. His hand slides back into your panties, and two of his fingers are back inside you in record time. You sigh in relief, rocking against him to encourage him to hurry up.

This time, he moves fast, the palm of his hand hitting your throbbing clit with every thrust. You can’t contain your moans, grinding to get more stimulation on your bud.

Unfortunately for you, Chenle knows your body just as well as you do. Right when your walls start to clamp down as a warning sign of your impending orgasm, he removes his touch. You curse, whining like a child at the feeling of being left hanging.

He brings his hand up to your face. “Suck.”

You don’t hesitate. You take his fingers into your mouth, collecting your slick from them and swirling your tongue to make sure you get all of it. Hollowing your cheeks, you allow your eyes to roll back at the taste and how all it does is arouse you further. He slowly pulls them away from you, and an obscene pop follows.

“Did he make you this wet?” Chenle asks. “Tell me who’s better.”

“You,” you say quickly.

“Why?” he continues. “What did my slut learn after having her fun? Hm?”

“H-He’s too nice.” Your face burns, embarrassment creeping through every inch of your body. “Never like this for him.”

Chenle’s hand finds the middle of your shoulder blades and pushes you flat against the counter. You shiver in anticipation, pushing back against him. He rips your panties down, and a sharp slap on your ass has your hips jolting.

“Dripping like the little whore you are,” he scolds you, hitting the other cheek, too. “Gonna make a mess all over the kitchen, baby.”

“Lele, please—”

“Oh, now you wanna act like that, huh?” He unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking together. “You really think nicknames will make me go easy on you?”

“Don’t want you to,” you reply, letting your forehead drop against the granite.

He presses his fingertips against your clit, spreading your arousal around as he rubs fast circles. Your legs are weak and shaking, and your need for release and the arousal soaking your thighs only serve to add to your embarrassment.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He sucks in a deep breath. “No wonder he wanted to steal you from me.”

You arch your back to give him better access, moans spilling past your lips as you grind into his touch. “Chenle, please. Please let me cum. It feels so good.”

“You close?” He contemplates, his other hand massaging your ass.

“So fucking close,” you confirm. “Please.”

“Mm,” he murmurs, circling you faster. “You do sound fucking beautiful when you cum.”

For a moment, you believe he’ll actually let you finish. You build and build, hips frantically moving, but almost like he knows you’re one last rub away from shattering, he pulls away. Your whine turns into a loud moan when he slaps your clit hard.

“You don’t deserve it yet, baby. You don’t get to cum unless it’s on my cock. Understood?”

You're near tears at this point, panting in the aftermath of being denied your orgasm again. Chenle shuffles behind you, and the rest of his clothes hit the floor. He curses under his breath, and you close your eyes, imagining him with his fingers gripping his cock, unable to stop his hips from bucking into his fist.

“You won’t like what happens if you cum without permission, pretty girl.” He rubs the head of his cock along your folds to collect your arousal. “Soaking me already and I’m not even inside.”

He allows his tip to enter you just enough to begin a stretch. Your breath catches in your throat, and you try your best to stop yourself from pushing back until he’s all the way in.

The words escaping you are no longer coherent, but that seems to spur him forward more than anything else. He lands another smack on your ass, but before you even react to that, he thrusts himself in completely until his balls press against your clit.

Your eyes roll back as you let out an obscene, long moan. You move your hips to stimulate your throbbing bud, but he tightens his grip on you to keep you still. He pulls out slowly, lewd noises following.

“Hear that?” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “This pussy is mine. Fuck.”

“Only yours,” you agree.

When he starts thrusting, it wreaks havoc on your body. You're already seconds away from an orgasm considering how many you’ve been denied, but you do your best to listen to him. His skin slaps against yours as he quickens his pace to an almost impossible speed. You’re lost in bliss, walls pulsing around him. All you want is to finish, and hopefully he’ll allow it soon.

His moans mix with yours, and the longer the two of you are connected, the higher pitched his become. His nails dig into you while he pulls you back with every thrust forward. The tip of his cock slides right into your spot, and the entire world tilts on its axis.

You practically scream out a chorus of pleas, begging him to allow you to finish as his length rubs against your inner walls perfectly. The world around you becomes blurry, and you can’t be certain, but you’re pretty sure you’re fucking drooling.

“Do you deserve it?” He curses under his breath. “Answer me. Do you deserve to cum?”

You shake your head, brain too foggy to comprehend fully. “I need it. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he reaches around your legs and finds your clit with ease. All it takes is a brush of his fingertips to have you catapulting into your orgasm. Your walls clamp down on him hard, and his rhythm is thrown off. He refuses to stop until you’re through it, thrusting through the tightness.

When he pulls out abruptly, you whine.

“On your knees.” He pants, pulling you up and turning you toward him. “Hurry the fuck up, slut. On your fucking knees and suck my cock.”

You don’t need any help dropping to the ground, your legs weak anyway. Glancing up at him, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around him. He twitches in your grasp, and instead of teasing him, you start taking him in your mouth. He’s heavy on your tongue, achingly hard, and cutting off your air supply the deeper you take him into your throat.

“Don’t stop, baby.” He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, guiding you along his cock.

You follow his commands, a surge of pride welling in your chest when his hips involuntarily thrust. Peering up at him through your lashes, you’re surprised to see his phone in his hand. He’s recording you. It does nothing but make you bob your head faster, desperate to please him.

“Fuck, my little slut sucks cock so good,” he hisses, throwing his head back. “Wanna cum all over your face.”

You moan, the vibration making him gasp. He yanks your head back.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

You do as he says, and before he even has to tell you, you stroke him until strings of white shoot from his tip. He moans, tilting your head up by your chin to see you painted in his cum.

You use your tongue to catch what landed on your lips, awaiting his next request. His chest heaves as he stares at you. He swipes your cheek with his thumb, and you take the initiative of taking it into your mouth.

He tosses his phone on the counter, gently helping you to your feet. “You okay?” he asks, voice much softer.

You nod timidly, the cloud slowly lifting from your brain. “I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you?” He grabs one of the dish towels on the counter and uses it to wipe the remainder of his release off your face.

“No.” You shake your head, confusion sinking in when he helps you remove your clothes all the way instead of redressing you.

“Good. Let’s go shower, baby. I’ll clean you up.”

Your heart twists in your chest, but you allow him to intertwine your fingers and lead you into the bathroom. You’ve missed him so much, and no matter how much you fought, it would always end like this—with some sort of sexual make up to let out pent up aggressions, and then he took such good care of you.

Why couldn’t he be like that all the time?

Once you're beneath the warm water, he pulls you to his chest, cradling the back of your head as he presses his lips gently on yours. For a moment, you forget the rest of the world. Finally, the puzzle feels as if it’s been pieced back together.

You pull away first, scanning over his face, noting how the water makes his hair stick flat to his forehead. Smiling, you run your fingers through it to push it back. He gulps, gaze softer than you’re used to as he holds you close.

“(Y/N), I’m…” He pauses. “I love you. Don’t leave me like that again.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. Cupping his cheek, you run your thumb along his skin. “I love you, too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Chenle washes your hair, gently lathers your body with soap, and presses soft kisses on your skin. These are the moments you miss. The ones where he shows you he loves you, that he cares. You want to live in these moments forever, but it’s normal that they don’t last.

All couples fight. All couples retaliate at each other.

The two of you aren’t above it, clearly, but the most important thing is that he’s here with you now…right?

It doesn’t matter if he’s strayed before. He always comes back to you.

This time will be different. You feel it in your bones.

Once you’re done in the shower, he helps dry you off and massages your shoulders. It doesn’t matter how much time passes—you’ll always be his. He takes care of you. He loves you.

When you’re completely dry, the two of you climb right into bed. He pulls you to him, kissing all over your face despite how clearly tired he is.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice strained. “For everything, (Y/N). We’re gonna be better this time. I promise.”

You’ve learned to be weary of his promises, but that doesn’t mean you don’t hope he means it.

“I’m sorry, too.” You kiss the base of his neck. “Fighting fire with fire is never the right answer.”

His breathing evens out before yours, and you stare up at your ceiling, deep in thought. Everything is overwhelming, but one thing settling inside you has your heart shattering just like the glass Chenle carelessly swiped off the counter.

You’re with Jisung. You told Jisung you wanted him, that you wanted to see where things went, but here you are, back with Chenle.

You’ve become everything you hated Chenle for being.

What the fuck do you tell Jisung?

[jinxedjackie]

Going to ramble for a bit but I hope we’ll get a Sevika backstory in season two or, at least, something about her family or values other than her loyalty to the cause. Arcane is all about family and, if I recall correctly, she’s the only character in Arcane who doesn’t have any familial ties (Viktor sorta has Singed, Heimerdinger sorta has the council and Piltover(??)… but Ig, if you think about it, Sevika has Zaun?) (But maybe later when she starts to mentor Jinx?)

Might go on a tangent here and ramble about some things and head canons but…

It kind of makes me wonder if Sevika wants to have a family of her own? Or, maybe, take the orphans roaming around the streets of Zaun under her wing? Maybe she could train and provide for them in ways her parents and society had failed to do. Zaun is all she has left, her family, and it’s one of the reasons that drives her to fight.

Blinded by her loyalty to Zaun’s liberation and independence, she leaves Vander, and chooses Silco, because Silco isn’t pliant to the enforcers’ whims and isn’t afraid to fight back. He doesn’t leave Zaun to bleed. She knows that sometimes it’s better to back down than fight, but Vander had to know when enough is enough.

She doesn’t let the repercussions of Silco’s actions and the effects of shimmer affect her. Even if guilt incessantly gnawed at her heart. You grow through suffering and sacrifices because it drives progress — that’s what she’s learned all throughout her life, when her father broke her nose and arm for being scared to throw a punch, when her mother taught her to nurse a broken bone and ask her to understand why her father did it, when she had to sacrifice her own youth because she had to fend for herself. This is good for them. The children of Zaun will learn. It’s also why, when she lost her arm, she doesn’t blame Jinx and her very idiotic makeshift monkey bomb. (Even if the little shit annoys the fuck out of her.) Her arm was just a small sacrifice to pay. If she hadn’t protected Silco, Zaun would’ve bled to death, and the topside would’ve never notice, continuing to dance over Zaun’s grave. It’s the least she could do, the least she could offer. She’d give her life, too, if she could. Anything and everything for Zaun.

It’s one step forward to freedom but two steps backward in civilization (because shimmer is shit and eats you from the inside out, but it’s what keeping her and Zaun alive, unfortunately) but it’s still progress and also a big fuck you to Piltover, and that’s what matters. She, Silco, and shimmer are necessarily evils. She starts to understand why her father was rough with her.

Anyway, on a sorta related note, do you ever wonder if Sevika sees herself and her father in Jinx and Silco, has thought of asking Silco to stop whatever mind games he’s doing with Jinx or to be gentle with her, at the very least (because she doesn’t know anything. Because she’s just a kid. A brat. She’s lost) but when she faces Silco all she sees is her father towering over her with the same disapproving and angry look that’s etched forever in her mind since she was five?

Also… what if, after everything has resolved and she’s done all she could for Zaun, she settles down and finally allows herself to prioritize herself and her happiness? She gets a small house, maybe somewhere in the forest. Finds herself a wife and two or three kids to adopt. But then, before she could achieve that she d—

—

It’s kind of all over the place but, um, please don’t mind me. I wanted to ramble about Sevika wanting a family but getting scared of having kids bc she doesn’t want them to go through what she experienced, and then it turned to this. Lol

[linomilkers]

How about when you use a Safe word? You can do it with either Lino or Chan <3

Sure :-) thank you for requesting! I chose Chan this time around but let me know if you want Linooo next :-)

[warnings: dom/sub dynamics, safe word use, spanking, degradation, overstimulation, subspace]

____________________

Chan was stressed.

Of course he was; comebacks were tiring, leading up to it, during it, and even after it sometimes, the schedules could be packed and busy with little time for reprieve. All of them let the weight of it sit on their shoulders but for Chan it's just a little different -- being the leader is just a little different. He's tired and stressed for himself, and he's tired and stressed for all of the members. While he lightens their load, he triples his own. He's always done that.

Y/N knew he'd be calling her more because of it; she would have been shocked if he didn't, honestly. He always messages her when things are a lot and he needs some sort of reprieve, at least a couple of hours where he can be mindless and follow his more base instincts. Split her thighs, tuck himself between them, and do whatever it is that he wants to do.

They've got rules established, and a safe word always, and Chan is good about following both. In the moment he may say something possessive, maybe a little mean about how she's a whore, she's his whore, to have and to fuck and to claim -- but afterward he's always so grateful. They weren't together and for some reason he's convinced himself that Y/N gets nothing out of this arrangement ("You're good in bed and I cum a lot and you feed me after, I think I get plenty out of this too, dummy."), so he treats each experience with a lot of care.

Because Chan on a good day is a little rough in bed, and likes to squeeze and manhandle and toss her around like she was a rag doll for him only. On a day he's let stress fill his bones? He's spanking and slapping and biting; Y/N is okay with all of that -- she likes it, if she didn't then she would tell him and they'd never do it again, but it's seldom he does something she doesn't enjoy. Sometimes she'll slip into that soft, floaty spot; where it's nice and quiet and Chan makes all the decisions so she can just let her mind flutter off. Chan can usually tell when it happens and he's mindful of it, and keeps doing what he's doing but with a softer edge, more praise, a few sweeter words. She's still a whore, sure, but she's his sweet whore -- that makes a difference in the moment.

Tonight had started out no different! It was the same set up -- she got a message around 8PM while she was snuggled in her blanket on the sofa. Y/N reached for her phone on the cushion beside her, saw that it was Chan asking if she was free, and she replied.

That depends. . .do you have snacks?

lol do you want snacks?

yes

I'll get some snacks then

okay, omw

Chan doesn't expect her to dress up so she usually doesn't, and since she'd just showered for the night, she was in a big shirt and some soft new pajama bottoms that she'd gotten a couple of weeks ago. She gave him a few minutes to actually get snacks for her before she grabs her things, looping her bag over her shoulder and petting her her cat on the couch before heading out. This would be the third time this week he's called, but Y/N had told him she'd be busy next week so she wondered if he was just trying to get it all out of his system now.

The drive to his dorm isn't too ridiculous, so not much time passed between the time he messaged her to her getting there. She knocked, he let her in with a shy little giggle and his dimples popping, and he complimented her shirt (it had a duck on it) while he played with the hair at the nape of his neck -- all of it was the usual stuff.

They usually don't just jump right into it; Chan likes the build up, playing around it, dancing around each other. He invites her into his room, sometimes they pass Jisung who is always polite and has his headphones around his neck (Y/N doesn't know if it's in preparation or not but she's too embarrassed to inquire). Maybe she gets to hear some of the stuff they're working on or maybe he wants to not think about work at all, and they'll just chat, and gab, and Y/N is just the right amount of bratty that gives him a reason to be rougher with her. She always waits patiently though, for him to be comfortable, to make the first move, to crawl into the bed where she's usually sitting stretched out and tucking his face into her throat. He'll kiss up her neck, suck a bruise just beneath her jaw, make his way to nip and bite at her mouth.

Y/N is good with everything he does with her -- to her -- usually. She can handle the overstimulation, and the degradation, and the swats to the inside of her thighs, or how he slaps her breast before grabbing and kneading it. She loves all that, it makes her tremble and squirm, and it's just good. Too good -- so good that she just slips right into subspace without even realizing it.

And Chan doesn't realize it either; he can't see her face, to be fair, and she thinks that's usually a dead giveaway. She's covered in drool and cum and bruises, she's sore, he's made her cum 4. . .maybe 5 times at that point and she was quivering with every breath. And he was still saying things, being rough, being mean how she usually likes, but maybe not right now -- maybe she wanted to be told she was good, and she wanted to be pet on, and cuddled against.

But her back was cold because he wasn't stretched over her how he usually is, and his nails bite into her hips. "Just a filthy hole," he grits through his teeth, the sound of their hips colliding and her squelching around him the only things echoing in the room, "Made for me to fuck. Have you always been such a little whore?"

She gasps when his hand slid around her, his fingers swirling over her clit and her toes curl but it's too much, "M'not a whore," she whines, muffled into the pillow.

"Mm, sure," he hums, mocking her as he swats her bum, "And the sky is neon green. If you weren't a whore then why would this pussy take my cock so easy, hm? You opened up like you've been begging for it -- don't I fuck you enough?" Y/N can't answer, her muscles are tight all over, she feels overwhelmed with her chest swollen and her breath caught in her throat. He slaps her bum again, it's a stingy burn she usually likes but now she gasps again and grimaces, "Answer when I ask you a question. Or do you want me to spank your ass until it's sore?"

"Pineapple," Y/N whines out, the first time muffled with the pillow still but she pulls her face from the cushion that she'd been clinging onto, shaking her head, "Pineapple!" She repeated, puffing a harsh breath through her nose.

Y/N doesn't use her safe word often, but from when she has, she knows Chan is always good about it. Just like he is right now -- he slips out of her gently and takes his hands away from her swollen button. He doesn't let go of her hips because he's the only thing keeping her from flopping down on top of the dried cum and the wet little spot she'd been making from how wet she was. He scooted them over just a hair and shoved the sheets that were beneath her out of the way, before guiding her onto her back.

Y/N feels bare and cold as the sweat cools on her skin from the fan blades whipping above them. She hugs her arms around herself but Chan pulls a knitted blanket from the end of the bed and pulls it over her, "Is it okay if I touch you?" He asks, his voice careful and gentle. Y/N nods quickly -- she hadn't fallen that deep into it (when she does that, sometimes she can't even find the words or her voice to speak them).

He cradles her cheek in his hand, wipes away tears that she hadn't realized wet her skin before pressing a gentle kiss to the lips he'd only just been biting and gnawing at earlier, "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, "Was I being too rough?"

"Just -- just a little," she caught her breath, curling into the blanket but pressing close to his body. His chest was broad and he smelled good, she noses her way into it, "Felt like. . .felt like a lot when I feel like this."

"Hm?" He's confused but the cogs in his brain click and turn quickly then, "Ohhh," he wrapped his arm around her, flattening his palm between her shoulder blades and keeping her pressed close, "I see. You're feeling floaty, aren't you?" She nodded, "Sweet thing, it is hard to handle when someone's being rough with you like this. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she presses a kiss to the center of his chest, his skin soft, "You didn't realize."

They spend some time like this, Chan rubbing her back, her arms, pushing kisses to her forehead -- it's sweet and warm and soft. The aftercare (even if it's premature) is always the best part, Y/N would say, and she thinks Chan likes it too. He likes to feel needed and to take care of people, and this is a way of doing it in such a relaxed way. Just snuggling close, being kissed, told that she did so well for him that she made him feel so good. Eventually she pulls out of it, and when she does, she untucks her face from his chest and lies her head on his bicep. She blinks at him, and he smiles, dimpled and sweet, "Are you okay?"

"Mhmmmmm," she hums, "Right as rain."

"Good," his smile gets bigger, "Do you want to stay and order take out and maybe watch a movie or something?"

Y/N raises her brows, "You already fucked me, what are you trying to butter me up for?" She's only joking -- they do this all the time, because they were just friends at the start of this with no benefits included but she loves seeing how his face warms up bright pink and he's patting her bum and whining at her.

"Hey, I'm not buttering you up!" He grumbled, "I just want to spend time with you, is that so bad?"

Her heart squeezes in her chest, then feels like it swells up, and pushes her ribs to the side to make room for it. He has a nasty habit of making her feel all gooey and in love, but she swats that away just as soon as it comes in favor of snuggling back into his side.

"Yeah, I'll stay," she replied, "Order something good."

[daisies-daydreams]

Oml, hi! I absolutely adore your work, like read everything on Ao3 then came here to read more lol-

Anyway, I was wondering if you could do a Hobie x m!reader where reader is feeling super insecure after a long day at work and tells Hobie about it, then Hobie basically worships reader and all of his insecurities? I noticed you tend to do either gn or fem readers so I hope this request isn’t unreasonable..?

Thank you so much, keep doing you cause that’s what we love,

Bye <3

Hold Me (Hobie Brown x M!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x M!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Swearing, Depictions of Self-Deprecation/Insecurities, Burnout, Toxic Workplaces Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Hello! Thank you so so much for your kind words 🥹 Your request is definitely not unreasonable-I just tend to stick with GN or fem! reader since that’s what interests me the most (though I’m always open to write for other pairings!) Also, I love your icon 😻. I hope you enjoy!

You ran your hand down your face as you slammed the door behind you. Your entire body ached with exhaustion as you slipped your shoes off and chucked them across the foyer of your flat. Your boyfriend, Hobie, leaned across the couch as you walked into the living room.

“Hey, love. How was-“

“It was fine,” you answered curtly. You felt a pang inside your chest at your sudden bluntness, but your body felt like it was on auto-pilot as you shuffled into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you before curling your fingers against your ears. Hot tears threatened to spill from your tired, red eyes as you peeled off your clothes. You quickly hopped in the shower, the emotional dread and fatigue of the day slowly seeping into your bones. You scrubbed yourself clean as you choked on your sobs, the events of the day replaying in your head like a broken record.

You shivered when you stepped out and dried off, the stress of the day making your body feel heavier by the second. You shuffled to your shared bedroom across the hall and hastily pulled on some comfy sweats and t-shirt. A tall shadow cast over you as you pulled your shirt over your head.

“Rough day?” Hobie asked. You hung your head and nodded. He hummed in reply. “Want to-“ you cut his words off when you rushed over and wrapped your arms around him. Hobie sighed and splayed his hand over your back. “Oh, love,” he cooed as he rubbed your lower back. He held you as you soaked his shoulder with bitter tears, his warm body bringing at least a little comfort to your aching heart.

“I-I’m sorry I was rude to you earlier,” you sniffed. Hobie pulled back and kissed your forehead.

“It’s alright,” he assured you. You wiped your eyes.

“I fucked up today, Hobes,” you said in a shaky voice. Hobie’s chocolate brown eyes softened as he held you close. He kept his hand on your hip before tilting his head towards the bed.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked. “If you think it’ll help, that is,” Hobie added. You nodded with a long sigh.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He hummed and slid his hand into yours before leading you towards the queen-sized bed. You swallowed thickly as you sank onto the mattress. Hobie grunted as he sat next to you, one and draped over his thigh and the other wrapped around yours. Your knuckles turning pale as you squeezed his palm. You took a slow, deep breath.

“We had our monthly reviews today and my boss was very…thorough with me,” you began. Hobie remained silent, allowing you the space to continue at your own pace. You sighed. “She said that I’m not trying hard enough, that I’m not progressing as quickly as everyone else at the branch,” you huffed and clenched your jaw. “She just looked so frustrated and disappointed in me. And then I had a customer call in demanding that we return his money, that he’s being ‘scammed’. I tried to explain the situation to him, but he just ended up screaming and cussing me out,” you explained.

“Then I dropped my lunch and didn’t have enough time to grab a full meal, so I had crisps from the vending machine. And to top it all off, my coworkers have been gossiping about me being a…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, a hard lump swelling in your throat. You groaned you caged your hands over your face. “Why can’t I do anything right?” you choked. “I thought I was doing such a good job when I first started…so why am I struggling so much right now?" you clenched your fist. "Why am I so fucking stupid?” you cursed.

“Hey, you’re not stupid, alright?” Hobie said firmly. You shook your head.

“Yes, I am. If I was just more intelligent and organized then people wouldn’t be so upset with me,” you said as your cheeks burned. “But even then, it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’ll always just end up disappointing everyone,” you cried. Hobie frowned as he pulled you close. He muttered into your hair as he gently rubbed your arm.

“Listen here: you’re not a disappointment,” he said. You slumped your shoulders.

“Hobie, you have no idea how many things I’ve messed up this past week. The amount of people I upset. I just…fuck. What is wrong with me?” you sighed in defeat. Your boyfriend hummed and rubbed your upper arm.

“You know what I think?” he asked. You tilted your head to the side and gazed into his deep hickory eyes. "I think that all of those things you just said about yourself...are complete bullshit," Hobie stated. Your jaw went slack as your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Sorry, guess I should apologize now for bein' blunt," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. You gave a small smile before bursting into laughter. Hobie blinked as you peeled with laughter, your giggles reverberating inside the small bedroom. His shoulders were soon bouncing as he chuckled softly. You clutched your side and caught your breath after several minutes.

“Thanks, Hobes. I really need that today," you sighed and wiped your eye. “My pleasure,” he said with a wink. The two of you chuckled. “Hey... look at me,” Hobie said in a more serious tone. You slid your head up, your heart melting at his gentle expression. He sighed as he smoothed his hand over your hair.

“You’re smart, the smartest bloke I've ever known,” he said. You blushed.

“H-Hobie..." you stammered.

“It’s true. And you can always work on being more organized. Doesn’t mean you’re a bad person-just means you’ve got somethin’ to improve on,” your boyfriend shrugged. You sniffed as he placed a kiss on your forehead and cupped your face.

“And as for those stuck up pricks...they can kindly go fuck themselves,” he said with a firm nod. Your face felt red hot as you laughed. Hobie pursed his lips. “Honestly, I think you need to get the hell out of there,” your boyfriend said. You wrung your hands together as you tensed in his hold.

“It’s decent pay, though,” you sighed as your heart sank. Hobie hummed.

“But you could get paid way better for a job you actually enjoy,” he said. You frowned.

“True...but I don’t even know where to begin,” you said exasperatedly. Your boyfriend tilted his head.

“Could help you look when I’m not busy,” he replied with a shrug. Your eyes widened as your heart leapt in your chest.

“Really?” you beamed. Hobie cracked an eye open and nodded.

“‘Course-anythin’ to help my boy,” he said. You pulled him into a tight hug again, drawing a deep chuckle from your love.

“Thank you,” you said softly. Hobie nodded and squeezed you back.

“You’re incredible, (Y/N). Don’t you ever forget it,” he whispered. You smiled widely as you placed your hands over his. He beamed as you pressed your lips against the side of his palms.

“You’re intelligent,” Hobie repeated as he kissed your forehead. “Organized,” his lips lingered on the top of your nose. He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, his lip ring brushing over your bottom lip. “And most importantly…incredible,” he murmured softly while gazing into your eyes.

Your heart melted as he rested his plush lips against yours. You sighed and wrapped a hand around his neck as his hands moved to cup your face again. The whole world stood still as your blissful kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity. Hobie’s pupils were blown when the two of you parted and caught your breaths. A small smile crept onto his face.

“How about we get some takeaway, yeah? Put on a movie and just have a lazy night in?” Hobie suggested while brushing his thumb over your cheek. You grinned before gently kissing him on the lips.

“That sounds wonderful,” you replied.

————

Thank you for reading! 💖

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @tayleighuh @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark

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[trulybetty]

Stood Up | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 1,668 Warnings: being stood up, torrential rain (always bring an umbrella), mentions of alcohol, a difference of opinions on Top Gun and some could call this fluff Summary: Stood up for a date that left you in the pouring rain, you seek refuge in a sports bar and before you can change your mind the man next to you strikes up a conversation AO3: Linked

A/N: so, I was supposed to be working on Bookstore Frankie as per the WIP poll the other day and technically (in my head at least) this is Bookstore Frankie, we're just meeting him a long time before he becomes Bookstore Frankie lol.

Also, consider this is my entry for @pedrostories’ celebration, enjoy! xx

Stood Up

The Seattle rain was relentless. It wasn’t even supposed to rain that day, the forecast ironically calling for sun and highs of warm heat, which had meant you’d left the house in a maxi dress and your flimsy denim jacket. So that meant no umbrella and certainly no practical footwear for the torrential downpour you found yourself in for the date you’d left the house over an hour ago for.

You'd been stood up, and now, thanks to All-Star Week, cabs were impossible to find.

You checked your phone once more, Uber was a wait of over an hour, said date had left you on read and Cat, your friend with a text. One that promised as soon as she could get out of dinner with her husband and his parents, would come and get you with a bottle of wine to commiserate the evening over at your place.

The door to the dimly lit bar slammed shut behind you, cutting off the relentless sound of rain pounding the pavement. You were soaked to the bone, rain dripping off your hair to your face, and in a less-than-stellar mood. 

As you settled into a barstool and ordered a stiff drink, you tried to shake off the frustration. The bartender served you with an understanding smile and you were just beginning to relax when a voice from the end of the bar cut through the chatter of the bar.

“How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy?”

You looked up, and some guy in a ten-gallon hat made eye contact with you with a flourish of said hat and a wink. Based on the accent and the Texas Rangers shirt he was certainly from out of town.

Your eyes rolled at the cheesy attempt, dismissing it with a casual brush-off. The downpour seemed to amplify the irritation simmering within you. Tonight was not the night for clichéd pick-up lines, especially from individuals who seemed to believe they had some inherent right to your attention.

As you took a sip of your drink, you exhaled and began to second-guess coming into the bar. You prayed for Cat to show up soon and get you out of there. Looking through the window, you thought about downing your drink and fleeing for somewhere else less crowded. You were already drenched; what more could the rain do?

But before you could think on it any further from the other side of you, a deep laugh resonated, and you glanced over to find a guy wearing a ball cap labelled 'Standard Oil', a beer resting in his hand, his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Can't believe that line didn't work. What's this world coming to?” he joked, raising his glass in a mock salute.

Despite your mood, a reluctant smile tugged at your lips, “A horse did me wrong once, a cowboy and I would be destined for heartbreak from the get-go,” you replied, playing along.

“How about a pilot?”

You raised an eyebrow, you hadn't missed the aviation logo on the shoulder of his shirt, “I feel like I’m being set up for a Village People joke here,” you eyed him wearily, “how often does that line work for you?”

He laughed into this glass as he took another sip, “A lot less than you think.”

You took another sip of your drink, “What a surprise.”

“Frankie,” he said, extending his hand.

You took it, his grip firm and warm and gave him your name.

He gestured to your soaked clothes, “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you admitted.

Despite your initial want to just drown your sorrows and maybe scroll through Instagram while you waited for Cat, you found yourself in conversation with Frankie. Turned out he was actually a pilot, a little elusive on the details of what exactly he did in the military, but a pilot nonetheless. That and he was currently stationed temporarily out of McChord Field, in Pierce County. He was up in Seattle for the weekend to meet up with some friends coming in from their own deployments.

Frankie's face turned playfully serious, his eyes widening as he said, “You're breaking my fucking heart, baby.”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, come on! You’ve got to agree with me?!”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I never thought I'd meet someone so smart and yet so wrong at the same time.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “I could say the same about you.”

Frankie's eyebrows shot up in genuine disbelief, and his lips curved into a playful half-smile as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Not like 'Top Gun'? That's almost sacrilege in my line of work!” His eyes sparkled with amusement, revealing his lighthearted take on the situation. 

When he’d mentioned he worked in aviation within the military, you’d jokingly asked if it was all like Top Gun and if he was a Maverick. Frankie had laughed at the question as he’d flagged down the bartender for another drink for you both. That had been before you’d voiced your true feelings on the 1986 cult classic.

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “I don't know, maybe it's the cheesy one-liners, or perhaps I just don't get the appeal of fighter jets.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “The appeal of fighter jets? Oh, you're really twisting the knife now.”

You giggled at his antics. The more you talked to him, the more you liked him. He didn't take himself too seriously. It was refreshing, especially considering your recent string of bad luck in the dating department.

“I'm sorry, I just don't get it,” you admitted, shaking your head.

Frankie's eyes softened, and he reached over to gently touch your arm. “It's okay. We can't all have perfect taste.”

“You think your taste is perfect?” you teased, enjoying the banter that had been flowing between you two all evening.

“In some things,” he winked, making your cheeks heat furiously.

When your phone buzzed with a message from Cat, signalling that she was outside, you found yourself a little reluctant to leave. It was strange, feeling a connection with a stranger on a night that had started with disappointment, and a part of you wanted to hold onto that feeling a bit longer. Frankie seemed to feel the same way, his eyes lingering on you as you gathered your things.

“Well Frankie, thank you for being a bright light in what was almost a terrible evening.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” he replied, his voice warm.

The two of you paused for a moment, the atmosphere suddenly more serious. He'd already mentioned that he was stationed temporarily and had hinted at an upcoming deployment. And though the good company and the buzz from the drinks had lightened your mood, you were still reeling from being stood up by the man you'd really thought you'd had a chance with.

You waved goodbye to Frankie and headed outside, the rain still falling heavily. As you approached Cat's car, thoughts of Frankie lingered in your mind, leaving you with a strange mixture of excitement and melancholy.

You were just about to open the door to the passenger side of Cat’s car when the noise from inside the bar broke through over the sound of the rain. Turning around Frankie was coming out of the door, you watched him look around before his eyes settled on you with a smile.

Throwing up the umbrella he had in his hands he dashed the short distance over to you, “Look,” he shouted to be heard over the traffic and the storm that was now brewing, “I thought maybe,” he paused looking a little at war with himself before he spoke again, “we could do this again? Maybe without the rain and the cowboy.” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and pressed a napkin into your hand. Under the cover of his umbrella, you opened it to see his name scrawled with his phone number and you shot him a smile.

“Call me?” Frankie asked, his voice suddenly softer, more intimate despite the storm raging around you.

“I will,” you assured him, tucking the napkin safely into your pocket.

With a final smile and a lingering look, Frankie dashed back towards the bar, and you climbed into Cat's car, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Cat, ever the observant friend, was already eyeing you with curiosity. “Okay, spill. Who was that guy? And why are you smiling like you've just won the lottery?”

You looked over at her, your grin widening. “That is Frankie. We just spent the last few hours talking in the bar.”

“Frankie?” Cat's eyebrows shot up. “Also, you stayed in that bar with a stranger for hours? That doesn't sound like you.”

And it really wasn’t, even going out for the date that eventually stood you up had been a push outside your comfort level.

Cat narrowed her eyes. “You sure you're not being catfished by this guy?”

You rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips. “Cat, that means online, not in person.”

“Same thing,” Cat retorted, not missing a beat as she started the car. “You never know these days.”

“Anyway, he's only here for a temporary assignment between deployments. Not like anything really is going to happen.”

Cat glanced at you, her expression softening. “It's okay to have fun here and there, you know. Doesn't have to be serious all the time.”

You sighed, leaning against the window. “I know. It's just… different.”

“Different is good,” Cat said, her voice softening as she pulled away from the curb, knowing all too well your past relationship history. “Different can be very good.”

You looked at her, realizing how much you appreciated her support, even with her teasing. “Yeah, maybe.”

Cat's smile widened as she focused on the road. “Of course I'm right. Now tell me everything about this Frankie guy.”

[southernbluebellereader]

Would you mind doing headcannons for being bears younger gf/wife after he and Lena divorce? Maybe he's shocked at how well you treat him bc of how long he's been with her?

Also I hope you enjoy six!

"You're Such A Sweet Little Thing"

A/N: I'm not quite done with the show, but I think I got a basic gist of Bear (he's so hot I can't. Barry can't do an American accent for shit, but I don't care lol).

Warnings: Cursing/suggestive language/innuendos, fluff, younger reader

Senior Chief Petty Officer Joseph "Bear" Graves x Younger!AFAB Reader (SIX)

Master List (Link for Tag List)

Safe For Work:

He still doesn't understand how he was able to get with you, his divorce with Lena was rough, messy, he barely gets to see his daughter, Sarah.

You met him at a grocery store when he saw your cart with lots of fresh ingredients compared to his very bare to the bones basket with a lot of pre-packaged food, microwaveable food.

You asked him if the food was for a dog and he laughed (he was secretly hurt, poor baby)

Let me tell you, he was *rough* looking.

After you exchanged numbers (and sent him simple recipes for food, y'all started getting to know each other).

Was actually surprised and somewhat ashamed that you were a lot younger than him, younger than Lena.

Loves when you call him "Your Big Bear" while rubbing his stomach, especially after you've cooked him a nice, hot meal.

Very insecure when showing you off at first, because (a), you're at least 10+ years younger than him, and (b), he's low-key worried about what Lena thinks.

He needs lots of reassurance, via food or other ways

It's not that he can't take care of himself, he most certainly can, but he's so appreciative when you cook for him and take care of him - like it's a form of re-assurance for him.

Once he gets more confident in your relationship, he gets really touchy, he's gotta touch you.

Hand on thigh at all times.

Not Safe For Work:

Secretly loves seeing you in skimpy outfits

One Halloween, you wore a cheerleading outfit and he almost had a nosebleed

LOVES being called "Sir" - you called him sir for the first time and he was actually a little flustered, but he ended up really liking it.

Slaps your ass if he walks by.

Again, surprised he actually bagged you

You had to explain to him what "DILF" meant - he was very confused at first, but ended up liking it

"Who's your DILF? Huh?"

Yes, he said that one time when y'all was wrangling on the couch

Y'all giggled too much and had to take a break before continuing.

Keeps a boudoir polaroid in his uniform at some capacity when he's away

He has shown it to the others lol

Loves missionary because he loves seeing your facial expressions when he bottoms out

"God, you're so fucking tight- tightest pussy I've ever had."

Will fuck you in the kitchen - does not care if you're cooking.

[gloomy-kitty]

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 | 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐲𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

minors don’t interact!!!!! 18+ only mature content under tab

synopsis: Dimitri is a vampire and he has no desire to listen to the pathetic pleas from a human. You are a slave to the king and only meant to fulfill his desire for blood.

warnings : mentions of blood, smut, blood kink, dimitri is kind of mean at first, possessive, long word count, rough sex, reader is really submissive and pitiful, consensual non-consent

authors note : this is a part of a mini series I will be writing. I have plans to write for Sylvain, Felix, Claude, and Yuri for this au. So stay tuned, or not lol.

Dimitri was a cold man who was cruel and selfish at times, he only cared about his own desires. But at the end of the day he was your lover. At least that’s what you thought of him at first.

You had found yourself at the castle’s doorsteps only a year ago, pathetic and starving. A famine had plagued Faerghus and in a desperate attempt your village had tied you up, throwing you at the steps of the castle, as a sacrifice. All in a desperate attempt to get the king to end this famine. Of course though, the king could live off another type of substance - blood. He had no control over the weather, or the drought that was plaguing Fodlan.

You laid curled up in a fetal position at the steps. Not even able to fight back when you knew what your fate would be when those castle doors creaked open. Your frail body was brought into the castle by a tan man and you could barely move at this point; you simply were accepting your end. In and out of consciousness you barely remembered anything. It took nearly two weeks before you were able to walk around, the man nursing you back to health. “She’s too frail. Plump her up so I actually have blood to drink.” A blond, one eyed man would say whenever he stepped into your room. Everything felt like a dream.

Once you were able to be back on your feet you were confined to a dingy bedroom, only able to sit and gaze out the tall tower window all day-it on for a month. You only interacted with the man briefly, he never said much. He only brought you food, clean linen, and the bare necessities to keep up your hygiene. By now, a part of you wishes that you had died on those cold stone steps of the castle. But alas, you no longer were starving and weak, your once hollow cheeks had now filled out some. Your bones didn’t poke out your skin, and you had clean clothes and a warm bed to sleep on. But you weren’t safe, far from it.

The first time it happened you were asleep, the bedroom door swung open and a lantern suddenly illuminated the room. Your blankets were thrown off of you, causing you to immediately sit up in bed. Your back pressed against the headboard as your breathing began to get heavy, your frail body shaking. You were terrified as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. There you saw the man who you presumed would end your life tonight. It was hard to see him in this lighting but what you did see, terrified you. The tall muscular blond king towered above you, he was missing an eye, a scar over where his stormy blue eye would be. “This better have been worth the effort.” The man muttered. He grabbed your ankles roughly causing you to let out a cry, your back and head slamming against the bed. “Quiet.” He ordered as he now got on top of you.

The man used his whole hand to roughly push your face to the side, you whimpered from the force of his hand. Your neck was exposed and your breathing was heavy, your chest rapidly moving up and down with each breath. This man didn’t care about your comfort at all, you knew that what would come next would hurt. He huffed to blow the hair away from your neck leaving you now fully exposed, his other hand pinned your wrist above your head. One of his knees was wedged between your thighs while his other leg pinned your side. You had nowhere to go and you were in no state to fight back. “Stay still.” He muttered as he lowered his head. You felt his long blond hair tickle your sensitive exposed neck, his warm breath against your skin.

You obeyed him, and just prayed that he made it quick. Squeezing your eyes shut you prepared yourself for the brief pain that you’d experience before your death. Then without warning you felt the man’s sharp canines sink into your skin. You cried out and squirmed in his grasp, it hurt so much. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, “P-please.” You whimpered as you felt warm liquid ooze from the wound. The blond only hummed in content, “Quiet.” He said once again. You felt his tongue lick up the blood that dripped from the wound. He sucked, licked, and nipped at your skin for what felt like hours. Only your quiet whimpers of pain and fear echoed through the room.

Then he released your wrist, his hand that was pressed against your face now tilted your chin so you could look at him. “How do you feel?” He asked, but there really was no true concern in his tone. He was handsome, breathtakingly beautiful, but you were terrified of him. You didn’t say anything as your eyes examined him, there was blood smeared across his lower face, his mouth was open slightly and you can see the glimmer of his canine teeth. The man clicked his tongue in annoyance before he stood up, “Your blood, it’s good. Don’t worry I won’t kill you…yet.” He muttered and just like that he left your room, leaving you alone.

Pulling your knees to your chest you held your body close as tears streamed down your face. At some point you fell asleep from exhaustion and when morning came you were covered up in a blanket that you definitely had not pulled over yourself before. As you were slowly sitting up in bed, you saw small blood speckles on the white bedsheets, a reminder of the events from the night before. Hesitantly you placed your feet onto the cold stone floor, and you walked over to the dingy vanity mirror, your body felt so weak. As you were brushing your hair away from your neck, you saw the wound, a mark that you would be a blood slave to the king of Faerghus. A dark purple bruise the size of a coin was on your neck and faint marks of dried blood were on your neck.

Another week had passed without a visit from the king, you sat on a window sill in your room, blankly staring out the window at the stormy weather. There was a knock at your door but even as you did not say anything, the door opened nevertheless. In walked the dark skinned white haired man who had cared for you. He held a basket in his hands, “How are you feeling?” He asked you as he sat the basket onto the dresser. He stood at the entrance of the room, not coming closer.

You just looked at him, bags were under your eyes as you had trouble sleeping ever since that encounter. You were scared for when the king would come back and kill you. The man sighed, shaking his head, “You have no reason to be scared. His majesty won’t kill you. He spoke highly about how well you tasted.” The man explained matter of factly. A frown made its way to your features, “I..I wish he would just kill me.” You stated, your voice was hoarse from how little you had spoken since you arrived at the castle. “If you’d like I can arrange for you to be free?” He then asked you but you knew his words were false, just a way to comfort you. Sighing you shook your head, you had nowhere to go; your own village had tried to sacrifice you to the king. So for now you would tolerate what was going on, you really had no other choice. “I have nowhere else to go. I am stuck here.” You mumbled before turning your head back to look out the window. The man nodded, “I understand. I have brought you some things, they’re in the basket whenever you want to take a look.” He said before turning to walk out the room, but he paused, “My name is Dedue.” He introduced himself for the first time since you had arrived here. Your eyes widened and you looked at him, “Oh” You simply responded, it sounded foreign. “I’m ______.” You introduced yourself before returning back to look outside the window. You were not in the mood for pointless conversation.

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Weeks passed and the king would visit you once a week to indulge himself in your blood. It was more or less the same every time, he was rough and uncaring of your comfort. But then the next morning after you would be showered with some luxuries, expensive food, wine, books, linen, anything along those lines. It was strange but you were in no position to turn down the gifts. You still had yet to leave the room in the tower, Dedue had become the only conversational partner you had. You learned the man was from Duscur; he was loyal to the king. You also had learned the king’s name, Dimitri. Dedue asked about your village and you would tell him stories, but your life was not very interesting. You were an orphan who had lived on the streets your whole life, there was nothing too interesting to speak about. That was more or less your life, locked away in the castle.

Tonight though was different, the king—Dimitri stumbled into your room late at night as you sat up in your bed reading a book. He stormed towards you, yanking the book out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor. He had no shirt on, but bandages were wrapped around his body. It was obvious he was hurt which explained why instead of you being pinned underneath him like usual, Dimitri sat on the bed, his back against the headboard as he pulled you into his lap. Your back was against his broad chest, and his fists balled into your hair as he titled your head to the side roughly, exposing the sensitive flesh on your neck. He wasted no time sinking his fangs into your neck, you cried out in pain. It hurt so much this time, he was relentless as he sucked on your neck draining the blood.

Your fingernails dug into the skin of his arm that was wrapped around your waist as you withered in pain. You felt your vision blurring, he was drinking too much. “P-please stop. Too much.” You warned him. “A bit more.” He breathed out before he returned to lapping the crimson liquid up. He groaned in delight at the taste, but when he noticed you becoming more lethargic he stopped. Dimitri supported your head up with one hand, his brows furrowing. “_____, are you okay?” He asked, a bit concerned. He knew your name? You figured Dedue must have told him, you tried to speak but your mind was a haze and before you even knew it you had passed out in the king’s arms.

Morning came like usual and you were wrapped up securely in a blanket that you most definitely did not pull over you the night before. There was a presence in the room, you could feel it. You were trying to sit up, but you had no strength and just collapsed back onto the bed. “Good. You’re alive.” A familiar cold voice was audible from your side. Looking to the side there you saw the blond king towering above you. He reached a hand down brushing your hair out of your face, you noticed that a different expression was on his usual stoic features. A hint of concern glimmered in his one stormy blue eye. “I went too far. I apologize.” He simply said, “I was injured last night.” He added not wanting to elaborate any further on the situation. You just nodded, not sure what to say, “Okay.” You mumbled. With a sigh Dimitri took a step back, “Anyways now that you are awake I’ll leave you be. Dedue will check on you soon.” He explained before leaving the room, the door echoing as it slammed shut behind him.

Why did he care if I ever awoke again or not? You thought, a strange feeling swelling in your heart. No, he only cares if I stay alive because he likes how I taste. You rationalized to yourself. To King Dimitri you were a blood source, nothing more nothing less.

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Dimitri still continued to visit you, his feeds became a bit more frequent nearly every other night. He fed on you for only a little bit, so you were as exhausted as you were before when he would visit you once a week. Yet he still remained as rough as usual, though he did stop pinning your face down with his hand. You had gotten to know Dimitri throughout the months, he was more than a bloodthirsty fiend. It seemed like he had a heart under his rough exterior. He had a tendency to drink a bit too much wine before he fed on you and you had come to learn why. It seemed like the blond disliked the fact that he was a vampire, he didn’t like feeding off of you which explained why he preferred you speak as little as possible. You had also learned that Dimitri was orphaned at a young age, he seemed to have a fear of people leaving him, he told you one night while he was drunkenly laying in your bed covered in your blood.

The man kept you locked in the tower for that very reason, he didn’t want you to leave him, he had grown a bit too dependent on his feeding sessions and speaking to you. But of course he did not voice such things out loud. Dimitri knew you were scared of him and he only wished that he wasn’t this blood sucking creature. Maybe things would be different which is why he was trying to be a bit kinder to you, but he had built up so many walls that seemed impossible to tear down,

Though tonight was different, Dimitri sat across from you on a chair sipping on a glass of dark red wine. His legs crossed as you gazed at you, “I have decided to move you to my chambers.” He simply stated. Your eyes widened in surprise, “Wh..what do you mean your majesty?” You asked him for clarification. He rolled his eyes, “Are you stupid? You’ll be moving to my chambers. I’m tired of having to climb all these stairs just to come feed off of you. In my room you’ll be available at my convenience.” He explained his reasoning.

So Dimitri did not come to feed off of you tonight, he simply came to inform you of your move. Your eyes gazed down at the wine glass in your hand, the dim lighting of the room faintly reflecting your face in the liquid. “O..okay.” You simply replied. You only hoped that his bedroom was not as cold as the tower, but you were also scared that perhaps being available to the king at all times would also be very dangerous. Dimitri finished his glass of wine, then he stood up wishing you a good night before leaving.

The next day came and Dedue appeared to escort you to your new bedroom. You still had no free reign of the castle, you were closely monitored. But at least now you were in a more cozy luxurious bedroom, there was a balcony you could sit out on. It was the first time you had breathed fresh air since you arrived weeks—no, was it months ago? You had been informed that Dimitri went out to deal with a rebellion in a different territory so you had the bedroom to yourself. There was a music box in the bedroom that you would play often as you danced around the balcony enjoying the fresh air and the feeling of the breeze blowing through your hair. You did that for the week while Dimitri was gone.

The king had returned late at night a week later, you were asleep in his bed when he stormed in. He flicked on a lantern and walked towards the bathroom, you two did not exchange a word. When the water came on from the shower you sighed before returning back to sleep. He was probably tired and you would not have to worry about him trying to feed on you tonight, at least that is what you assumed.

Once again you were awoken out of your slumber as you heard the balcony door shut. “Don’t ever leave that door open at night or when you aren’t in the room.” He said angrily. Sitting up you looked at the king, “Why?” You asked, still half asleep. “It’s dangerous. Plenty of people want to kill me.” He replied as he walked over, sitting at the edge of the bed. He stared at you, his wet blond hair clung to his face and he was wearing only his boxers. You noticed the scars that littered his pale skin. You had been staring. Oh..oh! He wants me out of his bed. You thought and quickly flung the bedsheets off of your body. “I will sleep on the floor. Please forgive me your majesty for laying in your bed. It was foolish of me.” You began to apologize as you stood up.

Dimitri shook his head grabbing your wrist pulling you back down onto the sheets. “Why would you sleep on the floor? You’re not a dog.” he frowned. Something was different about him tonight, his voice was quiet. Something seemed to be bothering the king. Without another explanation he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he buried his face in your hair. You two laid on the bed in silence, Dimitri’s breath hitting the back of your neck. His body was so cold. “You’re scared of me. Aren’t you?” He then suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

”What?” You breathed out, unsure of where this question was coming from. Truthfully you were scared of him, he was double your size and powerful. “You want to leave me? Why didn’t you escape while I was gone? You could have?” He then asked you, his voice was muffled by your hair. Your brows furrowed when he asked you that question, why didn’t you leave? The tone of Dimitri’s voice was fearful, like he almost did not want you to answer the question. “I..I don’t know.” You replied, your hands came up to gently rest on his. “I have nowhere to go. I don’t mind it here.” You replied truthfully but still avoided his question if you were scared of him. “So you are scared of me? I’m a monster after all. Everyone is scared of me…everyone always dies around me.” He spoke in a low tone. His grip around you tightened, he was scared.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you but hearing Dimitri act so vulnerable made you only want to comfort him. So loosening his grasp around your waist you turned over to face him. You cupped his face in your hands and gazed into his eye. He avoided your eyes though, a guilty expression saturating his pale features. “I won’t die. I’m not scared of you, your majesty.” You said flashing him a weak smile. The king didn’t seem convinced by your words but he just nodded, “You’ll stay here..right?” He asked you for reassurance again. You hummed in reply, “Mhm..as I said I have nowhere to go.” You responded as you brushed his blond hair out of his face. He really was handsome, even though he was missing an eye and had faint scars on his face he was truly ethereal looking. It took your breath away, you had heard that was the charm that came with these beings—vampires. But being able to see him so close you truly understood where those legends came from.

Dimitri noticed you staring, he felt a bit insecure with you looking at him. He usually kept your face down so you couldn’t look at him so now he felt a bit exposed. “What?” He asked, brows furrowing as his expression hardened. You shook your head, “Nothing, your majesty. Are you hungry?” You asked him, you figured that was coming. After all, it had been a week since he last fed. He nodded a bit hesitantly, “Y..yes I am.” He mumbled quietly. This weird feeling overcame you, you just wanted to please him. The king was acting so vulnerable you just wanted to give him the one thing you knew he liked, something about Dimitri was intoxicating, it was drawing you in. Perhaps it’s because of what he was that made you feel this way? Removing your hands away from him, you reached up to brush strands of hair away from your tender neck - exposing it.

Dimitri licked his lips hungrily as he stared at the soft flesh on your neck, he wasted no time in pinning you to the bed by your wrists. His large muscular body hovering over yours, but instead of sinking his teeth into your neck he licked and nipped the skin gently. A moan left your lips, it shocked you why you had even made that noise. You felt a soft chuckle from the king against your neck and he continued to nip at it more. Then you felt it, the pain of his sharp canines sinking into your flesh. Your body flinched as you let out a whimper of pain, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt him lap up the blood that oozed out of the wound. Dimitri’s knee found itself between your thighs and without even realizing what you were doing you found yourself grinding against it, a quiet moan escaping your lips as you arched your back up.

Dimitri stopped and looked at you, “You like this now?” He asked you with an amused smirk on his blood stained lips. Slowly your eyes fluttered open and you gazed at him, “I..I think so. I don’t know why.” You whispered your brows furrowing in confusion at your own actions. The fear that you held for the king only a few minutes ago was replaced with something else—a desire to please him in any way. “If you really want it…I want you to beg, ______.” He ordered as he roughly grinded his knee against your core. “P-please your ma-“ you began only to be cut off by him. “My name is Dimitri. I’m over the formalities.” He spat out.

You averted your gaze from his intense one for a few moments before you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “Please Dimitri. I want to please you.” You whimpered. Dimitri seemed satisfied with your begging, his calloused hands tugging at the hem of your long silky white nightgown, he pulled it up slowly, it was like he was deliberately trying to tease you. “Please.” You begged him once again, goosebumps dotted your skin in wild anticipation. Then the gown was above your breasts, exposing you completely to the king. Your breath hitched as you stared at him eyes wide, scared of what he may think. “Mmm..so pretty.” He mumbled. His head lowered to your breast, he kept looking at you with that stormy blue eye while his tongue swirled around your hardened nipple, his other hand roughly massaged your other breast. His fingers pinching your sensitive bud, you let out a moan. He dropped the hem of your nightgown now satisfied with how exposed you were, and returned back to pinning one of your wrists above your head.

Dimitri began to suck and nip at your breast, he was trying to leave a mark, then when his lips left your sore nipple he moved up to curve of your breast. Without warning he sank his fangs into your soft tender skin, your body trembled in pain as a loud gasp left your mouth. “D-Dimitri!” You hissed as you felt warm crimson blood trickle out of the puncture, but the king did not let your sweet blood go to waste. He groaned in delight as he sucked the blood from the wound, “So good..” He mumbled against your skin as he continued to nip your skin to draw out more blood. You were soaking wet, unsure of why you were so turned on by something that used to cause you fear. Then you felt him rub against your thigh. He was hard and it made you want him even more. “Please Dimitri..I want you.” You begged as you tried to wiggle your wrists out of his grasp. But he was too strong, you couldn’t even free yourself if you wanted to.

Dimitri stopped what he was doing, and sat up, blood coated his lower face. In any other scenario he would have looked absolutely terrifying but to you he looked so incredibly beautiful. The way the warm lantern lighting glowed against his pale skin made him look otherworldly. “Are you sure?” He asked you in a gruff tone by now he had freed your wrist and his hand went to the waistband of your panties, he ripped them off of you. Literally. The tearing of the fabric caused you to flinch and he tossed the torn fabric aside, you saw how he eyed your nightgown so you quickly stripped yourself of it tossing it onto the floor. The blond’s looked at your vulnerable exposed body with nothing but pure lust in his eye.

He lowered his head and to your entrance, you smelled intoxicating and he wondered if you knew that? Your scent was driving him crazy. Placing his rough hands on the sides of your thighs he forcefully pulled your legs apart so he could look at you. You were embarrassed by how soaked you were already, a part of you was scared of what he was going to do next. “Are you sure you want me?” He asked you in a gentle voice. You nodded a bit too eagerly, “Y-yes please.” You pleaded. With that he lowered himself to your pussy, his tongue immediately went to your clit. Your body jerked roughly at the new sensation and an embarrassingly loud moan echoed through the room.

He wasted no time in licking your pussy, his tongue was masterful as focused on your clit. He sucked and swirled circles on it. Dimitri felt like he was drunk off of the juices from your pussy. His tongue left your clit as he hungrily moved his tongue between your folds, the muscle now poking at your entrance in a desperate attempt to taste all of you. He was trying to fuck you with his tongue, and it drove you even more crazy. An unusual warm sensation began to build in your core, your vision blurred you were sure if it was from blood loss or from how good you felt. Your thighs trembled in delight around his head as Dimitri switched between sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue. He was so careful as to not harm you with his sharp fangs.

Your hands flung up to ball Dimitri’s soft golden hair in your hands, you tried to grind your hips against his face but he held you firmly to the bed. It seemed like the king was intentional with every movement he made, when his focus was on tongue fucking you he made sure his nose still brushed over your clit. You felt so close, you weren’t sure how much longer you could last. You were going to cum. “Dimitri…please can I cum? Please. Please.” You whined begging for your release. Dimitri’s hands tightened on your thighs, you whimpered in pain you were certain that you would be left with bruises. “Mhm..cum for me _____.” He hummed still buried in your pussy. Then with a few more motions you came around the king and hard. Your back arched as your legs shook violently as you let out a loud moan. “Thank you. Thank you!.” you cried out as tears pooled in the corner of your eyes as you rode out your orgasm. Dimitri’s sucked on your clit for a few more moments as your body and breathing slowed down, until finally you were left a whimpering mess on the bed.

Dimitri sat up looking at you, his face now coated with a mixture of blood and your own wetness. He licked his lips as he got out of the bed, you now gazed at the man through heavy eyes as you tried to control your breathing. You watched as he slipped off his boxers revealing his erection. The king was huge. You weren’t sure you could take him, a look of fear washed over your face. Dimitri’s hand pumped his thick throbbing cock in anticipation as he still had that hungry look on his features. “If I do this…this means that you’re mine. Forever. Understand?” He said. You didn’t care, you’d be with Dimitri forever. “Yes. I understand Dimitri.” You replied.

With that the muscular king was now back over you, his blond hair falling in front his beautiful face as he began to lick up your upper body. He couldn’t let any of your sweet blood go to waste. His tongue traced over your perky nipple, to your neck, and then finally to the corner of your mouth where he stopped for a brief moment before he crashed his lips against yours. You tasted yourself, your blood and your own cum but you didn’t care. Then he pulled away, using one hand he held your hip firmly as he positioned his throbbing cock at the entrance of your pussy. Without a warning he pushed himself inside you. You cried out in pain, he didn’t even give you time to adjust to his size. You felt like he was ripping you open but goddess, did he feel so good as he filled up your pussy.

”Dimitri!” You cried out tears now falling down your cheeks, your hand flying to his chest in an attempt to get him to stop just for a moment so you could adjust to his cock. But he didn’t care, he needed to fuck you and he needed to fill you up with his cum so only then you would know that you now belonged to him.

Dimitri rocked his hips back and forth as his dick slammed into you relentlessly, the way your tight pussy clenched around him drove him crazy. Did you know what you were doing? “Fuck..” he hissed under his breath, his fingers digging into your hip. Only a minute later you were melting under his touch, you adjusted to his size and pure pleasure filled you. His cock kept hitting a certain spot deep inside you and it hurt a little bit with how rough he was being but it felt so amazing. That familiar warm sensation was now building up inside you again as you whimpered out the king’s name. He watched as your breasts bounced with every thrust he made, the face you made when he hit that spot deep inside your pussy, the way your sweet blood trickled slowly down your neck and breast, and he loved the way you took him so well despite his size.

Dimitri had never felt something that felt as good as your pussy did; he knew he was going to cum and soon. “You're so beautiful…the way you take me. The way you sound _____.” He praised you with a breathy voice. With a few more rough thrusts he came inside you, coating the inside of your pussy with so much of his cum that it was leaking out of you. He moaned loudly as he threw his head back in pleasure, just cumming more as he continued to fuck you mercilessly trying to ride out his orgasm. You soon joined him in his orgasm; clenching around his cock as you came once again, the warmth of your orgasm only made the king moan in pleasure. You body trembled you really weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. It seemed like Dimitri wasn’t going to stop fucking you any time soon, but he did. His erratic thrusts became slower and slower until finally he stopped moving.

He breathed heavily as he remained inside of you, then he lowered his head so he could now look at you. You looked so beautiful to him, your body was flushed with a faint hue of red and he noticed the dark red marks on your hips, thighs, and wrists from where he pinned you. Reaching a hand out he brushed your hair out of your face before he gently kissed you as he pulled himself out of you. He collapsed onto the bed on his back before he pulled your tired body onto his chest, his arms wrapped around you. He rubbed soothing circles over your back and arms. “You promise to stay..right?” Dimitri asked you in a quiet voice.

Tilting your head up you looked up at the king with a content smile on your pink lips, “Yes. I promise.” You replied back, after all you had already told him you had nowhere to go. Plus didn’t Dimitri know that he already had you wrapped around his fingers?

[max-nico]

Shadow's development Headcanons

Started off looking like more of some .. creature than a hedgehog

Like way too many or not enough limbs, especially because of the Black Doom DNA

I'm imagining him having one eye and being more of a scaly texture but still oddly goopy lol as well as not having hands or fingers and instead having some tentacle type things

Between getting experimented on and his normal growth he eventually grew to look like a normal mobian hedgehog with some key differences

The differences being, the whites of his eyes having a light green tint, too many teeth, every joint is double jointed, quills that are unable to fold down/look relaxed, sharp claws, etc, etc

I also think it'd be fun if one of his feet had one or two extra toes :3

I think at some point during his development he looked like Stitches alien form (from Lilo and stitch)

Whether he can still regrow the limbs now, Gerald manually rewrote his DNA, or one day he just lost the ability to use them is up to you bc idk

Maria watched Shadow grow up essentially from a weird amoeba looking splotch to a semi grown Hedgehog

I headcanon that Shadow's body didn't look like it does now when he originally went into stasis, and he grew while in containment

Hedgehogs aren't supposed to lose quills unless they're under high stress. I think Shadow sheds a lot by nature, and he frequently has to brush his quills to make room for the new ones growing

Teaching Shadow to talk was a rough process. Mostly because he didn't always.. have a mouth.. or hands... so Maria and Gerald had to be on top of figuring out new ways to communicate, just in case

Perfecting his design was painful, Shadow could gain or lose random parts of his body, organs could be grown wrong and bones had to be corrected and moved over and over again, just for the sake of a "perfect" life form

They'd put Shadow back in the Green Tube when they knew a long process was going to be painful, but sometimes he would need to be awake so they could watch his development, but I would hope at least Maria would fight for these processes to be as few and far between as possible

The first words Shadow said were "Maria", "sister", and "pick up"

It took years before Gerald was finally happy with Shadow's look, and even after that he was still being experimented on to track the progression of his steadily growing powers

Things like his enhanced memory, speed, agility, strength, etc

I think Shadow was given his inhibitor rings for ease of retrieval and containment, and it was an easy way to keep track of his powers while not letting him over use them

This is not to say there was nothing redeemable about his childhood. He technically still has good memories to look back on, after all he still had Maria

Anyways uhm yeah, I'm going to post this without proofreading it hopefully that doesn't backfire :D

Feel free to add your headcanons or whatever !!!!

I'm a Tails centric blog, but please hop into my ask box or DMs, I love meeting new people :33

[tabithatwo]

i humbly request some of your jackienat thoughts at this time

I am humbly providing many many days after you asked!

Jackienat in canon: god I’ve talked about them at length before but there two as individuals are my little sweetie snookums lovebug angels (I love all the yellowjackets but god god god I love them); they are the two girls who I believe are the most invested in the team as a whole. I think they would’ve been amazing co-captains side note (not me suddenly considering writing a short little au something about them being captains together GOD). I think that it’s been said very well by many people, but they are so tethered. They want what’s best for all the girls, they love hard, and they do NOT get that energy in return enough. I don’t really understand why people come to the conclusion that they hated each other. I DEFINITELY don’t get why people come to the conclusion that they hated each other PRE crash, because there’s nothing negative show between them when we DO see other girls be bitchy to Nat and make fun of Jackie’s earnestness, but it’s never these two against each other. Nat is very vocally anti freeze her out, everyone knows innately that Jackie would be without even asking. I’ve spoken about their fight at length before, so without getting too far into that I will just say I think the way it escalates and gets so emotional and personal is very very telling. I don’t think they’ve fought before, Nat is clearly more emotional than when the other girls are cruel to her which I think means she didn’t expect it from Jackie, Nat hits back with a threat/fights back instead of brushing it off like she usually does. I think it’s fucking tragic that they fought and never got to reconcile, because they both are the type to hold guilt and sadness over that shit. Them teaming up at doomcoming against the crazy, the way Jackie would’ve lived if Nat were home for her and Shauna’s fight, the eulogy Nat gives Jackie when she takes her bones to the plane. They are just tragic and beautiful and we’re robbed of the chance to be truly close friends, because I really do think that’s the trajectory they were on.

Jackienat platonically: oh GOD do I love them. I can’t wait to explore their dynamic in we practice resurrection every night. I talked a lot about how I think they’d be close above but I also heavily hc that jackienat and shaunalottie each made out at least one party in high school respectively. They are so special to me. Sweet girls with huge hearts and very curated protective exteriors beloved beloved beloved.

Jackienat romantically: I love it so much. I am a jackieshauna and lottienat at heart (clearly lmao) but I LOVE them as a stop on the way to those endgames. I think they’d be surprisingly soft and sweet as a pairing and I think that they’d be able to help each other through the ummmm tougher times of shauna and lottie’s less than ideal behaviors lol. (I LOVE BOTH SHAUNA AND LOTTIE DEEPLY but they have some very rough tendencies that would be hard as their partner and I think some commitment issues/stumbling blocks to get to a healthy (healthy for yj) relationship status, just objectively lmao). Jackienat is hot and fun and kind and loving and the type of young dyke relationship that leads to really close lifelong friendship no one can ever change my mind on that <3 they should kiss <3

[defilerwyrm]

Hey, trans guy here, and while I’m not personally interested in getting bottom surgery, I am interested in writing t4t erotica involving guys who have. Do you have any writing tips on that front or just stuff you wanna see from what I imagine is a pretty underserved niche?

Howdy and that’s awesome!

One thing that would be cool to see represented: not everyone who gets bottom surgery is a top! I’m sure not, though strangely my interest in playing that role has increased since I had the work done. You can be the biggest anal queen this side of Pornhub and still get bottom surgery. Only makes sense, right—if we can accept that having a dick doesn’t automatically make a cis man a top, the same is also true of trans men & transmascs.

Some things about a healed-up phallo dick from my experience, under a cut:

The head is VERY sensitive, and the base is very sensitive. Everything in between that has erotic sensation but in an “Mm that’s nice” kinda way until you add pressure too. Once it’s healed up, it is definitely possible to orgasm from stimulating it. How long that takes will vary, though. I was told it might be up to a year, but I have a crazy healing factor and had it back in like 2-3 months.

If you couldn’t successfully kill the hair follicles on a permanent basis via electrolysis and/or laser prior to surgery, there’ll be hair. (It’s not THAT weird. Plenty of cis men out there have hair on their shafts too!)

If you had a tattoo on your donor site, you’ve got a tattoo on your dick now, lol. It might be unrecognizable depending on where it was originally (especially on the inner wrist/forearm).

There’s a scar up the underside right in the middle and all around the base. The scar up the middle of your scrotum will look similar enough to the natural seam of an OEM scrotum that it’s not really notable.

The scrotum won’t have all the wrinkles an OEM one does at rest.

No foreskin, more’s the pity, but the head looks VERY much like a circumcised OEM penis once it’s healed.

Different donor sites tend to produce different results. The non-dominant forearm is preferred because they take a stretch of nerve with it and it’ll typically have the least subcutaneous fat, so you tend to get the best sensation and shape. With the back or thigh, bigger guys might end up with a Coke can cock, which cis men THINK they want but it’s a different story when it’s always that size.

Yep, it’s always the same size. Which means you’ve got something the size of an average-for-your-height erection at all times.

Without an implant, it’s quite floppy as you can imagine. If you manspread at all, you might have to shake a leg out when you stand up ‘cause your dick’ll go between your thighs, and you’ll notice real quick as soon as you start walking. Masturbation can be awkward depending on how you do it, but “double bagging” (wearing two condoms at once) will keep it stiff enough to top.

There are two types of implants you can get: a flexible rod made of silver encased in biostatic silicone that gets sutured to your pubic bone to make sure it stays in place (how metal is that?!), or an inflatable rod that has a pump & release in the scrotum. Look for “erectile dysfunction implant” if you’re researching these. With the former, you basically always have an erection, but it’s posable; not great if you wear a lot of Speedos, as my surgeon put it. With the latter, you choose when it stands up and when it lies down. These implants, along with testicular implants for those who get them, are always done at least 6-9 months after the initial surgery.

Recovery can be rough. I took 3 months off work and needed it. The first two and a half weeks were the worst because I had a suprapubic catheter in, and dear gods I hated being cathed. Felt like I had to pee at all times, even right after emptying the bag. Worth it, though, absolutely worth it.

If you do radial arm flap, you’ll end up with two scars aside from the ones on your groin: a rectangular graft that goes most of the way around (NOT all the way around; that leads to necrosis!) the forearm from the wrist to about halfway to the elbow; and a less-obvious rectangular scar shaped like an open book on the top of one thigh where they take a split-thickness (meaning, only part of the way down) skin donation for your arm graft. The graft is pretty obvious, especially if you’re chubby, but my leg scar is extremely subtle and continues to get fainter as my skin cycles itself out.

The graft will be forever hairless.

People will probably glance at the graft, and they might stare if they’re rude, but in the…what’s it been, almost two years I’ve had it, exactly one person has actually asked about it and that was when it was still fresh and extra gnarly-looking. I told her “It’s a graft, it’s not as bad as it looks” and there were no follow-up questions.

Because there’s nerve harvested from the inside of the forearm, sensation comes to the penis faster than it comes to the graft. The cut nerve DOES regrow! But for the first…I’d say 6-9 months? Ish? I could only feel pressure on the tissue UNDER the graft. Sensation is still duller there, but at this point I can feel temperature, moisture, and texture well enough.

Recovery includes physical therapy for the donor arm. The more you move that wrist early and consistently, the less stiff it will be when it heals. I’ll never be able to touch my thumb to my wrist again, but I also can’t do that on the right either now, so I think that’s more to do with my age than the surgery (I used to be a lot more hypermobile, but I am no longer a spring chicken).

Learning to pee standing up is a messy affair that involves cleaning the toilet and doing laundry a lot. Once you’ve got it down, though, it’s pretty awesome.

Chasers will now ghost me the instant they find out I am not biologically available to be their sexual experiment.

There are a LOT of other options for bottom surgery, but I only have passing familiarity with them based on hearing firsthand accounts and what I learned from my surgeon. Personally, I weighed meta vs phallo heavily; being able to get a natural erection with meta or Centurion was a very attractive prospect, but it just doesn’t produce a size that I would find satisfying in terms of my own self-image, so I went with phallo. There was never a question in my mind as to wanting vaginectomy with it. Beyond the unbelievable convenience of being able to pee standing up without an STP device, I fuckin’ HATED my front hole, and I REALLY hated being pressured about having things done to it (mostly by cis men, but not always) all the time.

[murder-cookie-dust393]

I saw the yandere hcs for lord Oyster and I saw the ending of them comforting and thought it was kinda cute so I'll bite for hcs! I got an idea for a type of reader I don't see often but I find the trope interesting. May I ask for hcs of a yandere clotted cream x poor reader?

Bonus little addition to reader if you want: maybe, to make it by, reader works really hard...day and night...and often neglects themselves, like they skips meals, barely sleeps due to a mixture of work and stress, work themselves to the bone just to make sure they have a roof over their head and food on the table?

Just always curious how yanderes react to a love like that lol! Sorry if this sounds weird! Just stumbled upon the idea of poor reader and thought it was interesting!

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND- I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO THOUGHT THE POOR MC TROUPE WAS INTERESTING.

[disclaimer: I’ve never had such a situation so I’m just going off of other people’s experiences]

Tw: spying through documents..?, Hierarchy misuse(?), Clotted gaslights ppl

• Let’s say MC is like a cook or something for idk any form of public gatherings. They work their arms off trying to quickly get lots of food cooked- that tastes good enough.

• Even if more they have lots of co-workers, they still have to do so much to have enough for so many people. Hell, they’re still cooking to keep making enough while the gatherings go on.

• Clotted Cream found a little defect in his food, maybe a dessert that was a bit undercooked. So he quickly sneaks into the kitchen to tell one of the chefs, just so they could fix the food before anyone makes a commotion. After all, he is a very kind-hearted, empathetic consul isn’t he…?

• He ends up talking to MC, showing the small defect. To his surprise, MC is panicking like crazy, afraid of losing their job. They quickly go out to the foods and take the tray of the desserts with a defection and shove it in the oven. They’re thanking him greatly, bowing a few times.

• Clotted Cream notices their hands look a little wrecked, with a few bandages over their fingers. “…Say, are your hands alright? They look to be in a quite- rough state.”

• MC is surprised at the question, answering that they have to work a lot to get the food out in time.

• Clotted Cream ends up talking to them longer than needed, and he’s- interested to say the least. He wonders what they’re life is like, given he was adopted into a noble household.

• Clotted Cream ends up scouring through official files to scour more information about them…He ends up seeing all the bills MC is paying, it could be literally anything: debt, medical, whatever. He feels an odd sense of pity? Or is it…something more humane?

• He ends up throwing himself into a hole of complete curiosity- and soon obsession. He wants to know more about their life, how they survive their endless hours of work. He works endless as well- but not in the way they do.

• At every public gathering, [where they’re serving food] he’s talking to them more than he is to the guests, always asking questions about their life and how they’re doing.

• At some point, he can’t take it anymore, seeing them suffer to keep their surviving. So one day, MC finds that all the bills they had to pay are just gone. Paid for. It confused them.

• The next day, MC goes over to the bill issuer, questioning things. Which the bill issuer responds, “Oh, a cookie came in and said he was your fiancé so he paid them all for you.”

• MC, absolutely flabbergasted, tries to question the bill issuer, wondering who the cookie was. But the bill issuer didn’t know. Only noticing he had green eyes. He’s in a disguise.

• MC goes back home, confused af. For one thing, they don’t even have a fiancé, and two, they don’t even know who this dude is.

• Meanwhile, Clotted Cream is laying in his bed, giggling like some girl that has a stupid school crush. He couldn’t believe he managed to get away with it! Not that it would matter, he could easily trick people into thinking the two of you were engaged.

• A few days later, when MC comes home from a long day at work, they notice literally ALL of their stuff is packed up. And guess who comes out from the closet with clothes in his hands? That’s right, sir fucking Clotted Cream.

• Before MC can even question him, he pressing a kiss to their cheek and smiling. “I’m just getting everything ready for you to move in with me! Don’t worry darling, this is the last of everything.”

• MC can try everything to question and defy him, but he’s just pulling the “I’m sir Consul, I can ruin your life. Now love me.”

• Poor MC, going from poor to confused and weirded out.

• If MC is compliant, he’s a needy mf, who’s super affectionate behind closed doors. Constantly giving them hugs and compliments.

[Ok- ngl this was self-indulgent. I would say this is my longest post on here lmao]

- Celina

[mirkwoodshewolf]

You know how angels typically do the two-fingers-on-the-forehead thing when they heal people? What if Jack Klines favorite way to heal the reader was through kisses? Forehead, lips, cheek, shoulder, wherever. . Thought it was a cute concept that you could do some justice

Okay so I see this more as a Headcannon just cause I can add some more details and go completely crazy with spit balling out ideas than trying to make it flow as a straight up oneshot or even drabble so let's get started!!!

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

So as said above, angels can heal with just a simple touch of their fingers as we've seen Cas do it so many times.

So let's take it up a notch with our beloved nephelim Jack Kline.

Yes while he too can do the angel's healing touch, for his beloved partner (we'll go GN with this HC), he likes a more--personal way of healing.

And that's with sweet, adorable, and loving KISSES!!!! MUAW MUAW MUAW MUAW MUAW (idk if that's how you spell kissing sounds lol but anyways)

The way I see it is before you two became a couple, he did do the healing touch with his fingers.

But once the feelings were shown and you both started to accept your love for one another, Jack pondered something.

And low and behold he gets to test this little theory out when you're doing research and you get a paper cut on your finger.

When he hears you hiss in pain, he takes your hand and observes the small bit of blood trickling out of the scratch.

"I want to test something" he says to you.

"And what's that?" you question.

He doesn't speak a word, only just bringing your injured finger to his lips and he presses a gentle kiss to your wound.

Almost instantly, a small tingling sensation comes at your finger. It's not like the normal way an angel's healing touch felt.

When an angel touches you to heal you, you just feel like an instant weight has been lifted off of you. Your broken bones suddenly feel normal again, scars disappear and even bruises fade and disappear.

But this time, through his kiss. There's this tingling sensation. Like when your foot falls asleep but not as intense, it kinda tickles if you're being honest.

Then the scratch is gone and the stinging pain is no more, the only thing left behind is that tingling sensation before that too fades away.

"Did it work?" he asks with a cute puppy head tilt.

You look at him in amazement, eyes widened with awe.

"How long have you been able to do that?"

From then on, any injury you had, Jack's method of healing was like the actual way you wish your parent's kisses could be.

Accidentally cut yourself while cooking food for the guys, Jack was there to kiss your palm after wiping away the blood.

Headaches from lack of sleep or caffeine overload after burning the candle at both ends with research?

You can bet Jack is there, cupping your head between his hands and giving kiss after kiss till your headache goes away.

"This is so much better than Tylenol." you praise which makes Jack laugh.

"Happy to help heal my sweetheart." he says with that adorable smile.

Now healing on the hunts, those can be a bit rough.

Like this one time you and the guys came back from a witch hunt.

Boy did that witch treat you like a ragdoll. No better yet it was like you were Loki and she was the Hulk flinging you around across every part of the room to where it felt like every bone on your body was broken.

Fortunately that wasn't the case but it sure as hell felt it.

Twisted ankle, dislocated shoulder, two at least three broken ribs and a broken nose.

Jack was beside himself. But he stayed with you and used his healing kisses to help you.

You worried however if he drained himself of his energy because this was unlike any of the other minor injuries he's healed before like this.

So day by day, you got a kiss a day depending on the severity of the wounds.

For the broken nose and twisted ankle, they were healed within the same day.

But for the other wounds like the ribs and knees, he had to keep the connection longer by kissing your lips so that his magic could do it's job properly.

And even then, it would also drain your energy by making your body tired from the tingling sensation.

Still, Jack didn't want you to suffer in pain, so he would stay by your side and tend to what you needed while you rested up in the bed. Even giving you normal kisses (honestly you can't even pick which kisses you loved the best).

Of course there's also the times when you don't need them but ask for them anyway.

Especially during the cold winters, in Kansas, with winds up to 20+mph in like 20 degree weather.

Lips getting chapped and cold, whose to say Jack can't warm them up with a healing touch.

"Hey Jackie-bear, I think the cold winds busted my lips up, they might need some tending to and Dean never returned my chap stick. Do you think you can....."

Now Jack maybe 3 years old, but he's no fool.

He knows when you really need those healing kisses and when you don't.

But you're just so cute, there's times he just can't resist it.

"You know, if you want to kiss me. All you had to do was ask."

"Where's the fun in that?" you flirted back.

Nonetheless, he still gives you a healing kiss on the lips.

Now that spot, that spot right there is where the real fireworks happen.

Ever since he healed your ribs after that witch hunt, the healing kisses on your lips really make your kisses see fireworks (literally and figuratively).

You'd take any chance you could to get a healing kiss to come from the lips.

Whether or not Jack ever caught onto that, that you'd never know but still he happily obliges and you couldn't be happier.

Needless to say, Jack Kline is a precious boi who loves to heal his partner in any shape or form.

And he's really glad he got to heal you in a way that's more special than just an angel's touch.

An Angel's Kiss, now that--that is something truly special. And only you have gotten the pleasure of experiencing it.

And you will always be grateful.

[niki-phoria]

hello! i would like to req enhypen x older+taller!mreader

its just based on them injuring themselves , and the reader being part of the medical profession and being able to help them with their injury ( it doesnt have to be super accurate first aid ). is it possible to add in cute moments such as , carrying them or feeding them due to their injury? tysm! im sorry if its super complicated! 😭😭

⋆｡°✩ enha reaction - taking care of them when they get hurt

includes: established relationship, brief mentions of blood, poor first aid knowledge lol, heeseung's gets a little suggestive ?? kinda ??

a/n: thank you for requesting !! my deepest apologies but fics won't be coming out as quick as usual, i've been having a rough time with depression lately :// feedback is always appreciated <33

older/taller male reader (he/him pronouns)

⋆｡°✩ heeseung

(word count 256)

you rub the drowsiness out of your eyes as you sit up, squinting at the sudden rays of sunlight hitting your eyes. “hee?” you whisper. 

“good morning, hyung,” he replies, still struggling to tug a t-shirt over his head. “sorry, did i wake you?”

“no.” you stretch your bones out for a few seconds before leaving the comfort of your shared bed to help him. “need some help?”

“i can do it.” you raise an eyebrow, watching heeseung continue to struggle for a few seconds, failing to fit the thick material of his new cast through the hole of his shirt before he relents with a small sigh. you can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes you as you walk over to him. “okay, fine.”

“you know, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be wearing any clothes,” you tease as you slowly guide his arm into the shirt. “the least you can do is be grateful.”

“shut up,” heeseung mumbles as he playfully rolls his eyes. “you love it when i walk around shirtless.”

“not when it’s because you were a clumsy idiot and got yourself a broken arm,” you reply. 

now fully clothed, heeseung rests his healed hand against your hip, pulling you closer to him. he leans up just enough to pull you into a sweet kiss. you both smile into it, letting your eyes flutter closed once again despite your growing list of responsibilities for the day. “i love you,” heeseung murmurs when you pull away. 

“i love you too,” you smile.

⋆｡°✩ jay

(word count 302)

you perk up immediately at jay’s small hiss of pain. he pulls his hand up, examining the side of his finger. the knife clatters down onto the cutting board, laying forgotten beside the garlic he was mincing a few seconds prior.

“jay?” you furrow your eyebrows, abandoning the drama playing on your living room tv in favour of helping your boyfriend. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” he reassures. he walks over to the sink, running his hand under the water. “just slipped with the knife.”

“are you bleeding?” 

“barely.” 

you lean over his shoulder, observing as he carefully rinses the fresh wound. you reach over around his waist, pulling his hand close so you can observe it. despite the knives' serrated blade it only cut through a few layers of skin - just enough to make jay’s finger bleed. 

“come here,” you wrap your arm around his waist as you lead him into your bathroom. 

jay chuckles to himself, watching as you dig through your medicine cabinet for a package of spare band-aids. “hyung, it’s barely even a scratch.”

“just let me take care of you,” you say as you grab a band-aid out of the box. despite his faux protesting he lets you grab his hand, lifting it up to wrap the band-aid around his wound. 

jay softly smiles at the concentrated look on your face as you check over his finger before tugging it up to your lips to press a soft kiss against the skin. “for good luck,” you murmur. 

he simply shakes his head, intertwining your fingers together as he steps closer. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing a gentle hand against your skin before he pulls you down into a sweet kiss. “thank you, doctor,” he teases. 

“anything for you, mr. park,” you chuckle.

⋆｡°✩ jake

(word count 278)

jake hisses in pain when you press the ice back against the tender area of his forearm. “sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him for just a second. his lip is caught between his teeth - likely in an attempt to prevent any tears escaping from his eyes. 

“it’s alright,” he murmurs though you don’t miss the way he winces despite you removing most of the pressure. 

jake’s hand replaces your own in holding the ice pack against his wrist when you stand up to grab a spare arm brace from the medical cabinet along with even more ice from the freezer. “how bad is it?”

“not very,” you reply. you keep your touch as gentle as possible as you carefully guide his wrist into the brace before securing it in place. “it’s just a sprain. you’ll only have to wear the brace for a few weeks at most.”

jake replies with a hum in acknowledgement. you can’t help the way your eyebrows furrow slightly in concern when you notice the slight frown pulling at his lips. it’s an uncommon expression to see on your boyfriend’s face. one you do your best to prevent.

“hey,” you soft voice pulls jake away from his thoughts. “why don’t we take the rest of the day off? we can go home early, cuddle up together on the couch, watch movies and eat junk food until the sun goes down and we fall asleep.”

jake contemplates your offer for a few seconds before nodding. “i’d like that.” 

“come on.” you smile as he lets you pull him to his feet; your arm draping around his waist as you leave the hybe building together.

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon

(word count 259)

music blares from your phone speaker as you watch sunghoon rehearse through the dance once again. his movements - although performed with less power than usual - remain sharp and precise. sweat stains the fabric of his t-shirt, sticking to his skin and forming small droplets in his hair. 

you flinch when sunghoon stumbles slightly. his footing slips for just a second before his body tumbles to the ground. “hoon!” you gasp, scrambling to your feet. 

“i’m okay,” he says as he sits up on the ground. your hand ghosts against his back as you help him. “really, hyung, i’m fine.”

your move the fabric of his pant leg up, rolling it to expose his ankle. the skin has already begun to turn a deep shade of red. “no, you’re not.”

your arm falls to wrap around his waist. sunghoon lifts his arm to grab onto your shoulders, letting you support his body weight as you pull him up. 

he winces when he tries to put any weight on his foot. “don’t worry,” you whisper. you kneel down just enough to put your other hand underneath his knees to lift him into a burial style hold. “i’ve got you.”

“hyung!” his grip around you tightens as he jumps in surprise. after the momentary shock wears off, he narrows his eyes at you. “is this really necessary?”

“yes.” sunghoon relents with a small sigh before he shifts to rest his head against your shoulder. you smile when he buries his face into your neck, pressing a small, grateful kiss against your skin.

⋆｡°✩ sunoo

(word count 311)

a gentle touch around your waist from behind startles you slightly as someone leans against your back before sunoo’s raspy voice reaches your ears. “hyung?” 

“sunoo,” you smile, though he can’t see it. “how’s your throat feeling?” 

“it still hurts,” he mumbles in reply. sunoo’s forehead remains pressed against your back, right in between your shoulder blades. his loose grip around your waist tightens slightly as he leans closer against you. 

“i’m sorry honey,” you whisper. you push your cutting board back just enough to twist around in sunoo’s hold so you’re facing him. you brush your hand against the soft skin of his cheek, tilting his head up just enough so he’s looking up at you. “is there anything i can do to help?”

“the soup is nice.”

“okay,” you whisper. you move a stray strand of hair away from his eyes, fixing his fringe in the process. “let’s make some soup, then.”

he smiles, pulling you down just enough to pull you into a sweet kiss. “okay.” 

sunoo sits on one of the barstools next to your kitchen island, watching as you carefully prepare a small chicken; stuffing it with glutinous rice and chapssal before placing it in a pot to boil on your stove.

old reruns of a drama play on your living room tv to fill the silence. you slip around the counter to sit next to sunoo on one of the barstools. he leans his head against your shoulder with a small smile as you wait for the chicken to boil. 

once finished, you carefully serve the samgyetang in two separate bowls. you slide across the counter to sunoo before rejoining him at the island. he leans over to press a grateful kiss against your cheek, intertwining your fingers together on the countertop as you begin to eat together. “thank you,” he whispers. 

“of course, jagi.”

⋆｡°✩ jungwon

(word count 343)

“oh, wonie,” you whisper as jungwon sits up, awoken by yet another string of violent coughs. he leans over, body shaking with each one. you rub your hand against his back in an attempt to soothe him. 

jungwon collapses back onto your bed with an exasperated sigh when the fit finally stops. you shift so you’re sitting on the bed beside him as you carefully rake a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry,” he rasps. 

“it’s okay.” you reach up to rest a hand against his forehead to quickly check his temperature. “your fever’s gone. i’ll go make you some samgyetang while you rest.” jungwon whines from his position on your bed as you leave. you watch with a sympathetic smile as he curls into a ball underneath your sheets, cuddling into your pillow.

jungwon grips onto the edges of your blanket wrapped around his body as he makes his way towards the kitchen on shaky legs. he furrows his eyebrows when the familiar sound of his mother’s voice echoes throughout your small kitchen. “...and just finish it off by topping it with some green onions.” 

“thank you again for your help,” you smile as you finish the soup. 

“of course! call if you need anything else.” 

“i will.” 

jungwon waits for you to set your phone down before he walks over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “hyung,” he whispers. 

“wonie,” you smile. “i was just about to get you. the samgyetang is ready.”

he hums in acknowledgement as you wrap your arm around his waist, guiding him back towards the couch. you tug your blanket further around him before returning with a bowl of steaming samgyetang. he sleepily blinks at you expectantly as you sit beside him. you chuckle, raising a spoonful towards his mouth. 

jungwon’s eyes widen as soon as the taste hits his mouth. “it tastes just like my mom’s!” 

“i might’ve made some calls,” you chuckle. 

he smiles, leaning over to press a kiss against your cheek. “i love you,” he mumbles. 

“i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ niki

(word count 321)

“hold still,” you murmur, quickly wrapping the athletic tape around niki’s ankle. 

“hyung,” he whines.

“just let me help you.” niki relents with a somewhat defeated sigh, pulling back and allowing you to finish. the rough material scratches against your fingertips as you carefully weave figure eights until finally tucking the end back into itself to hold it still.

“how long will i be off of it?”

“a few weeks at most. you didn’t hurt it too badly.”

“but i won’t be able to dance on it?”

“not until it heals.” a part of your heart breaks when you look up to see niki’s dejected expression. his shoulders fall in disappointment and his eyes remain fixated on his wrapped ankle as if staring at it will make the injury heal faster. 

you quickly shove the rest of the athletic tape back into its drawer. you reach over to cup his cheek with your hand, pulling him a little closer before leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead. “niki,” you murmur. he hesitantly lifts his head until his eyes meet yours. “it’ll be okay. you’re not dragging the group down. you’re a dancer. an incredible dancer. a sprained ankle won’t change that.”

niki’s dark eyes stare into your own for a few more seconds before he leans upwards to pull you into a quick kiss. it’s short and sweet - the way most of your kisses are. as if they’re a stolen luxury, only meant to be known by two of you. “i know,” he sighs. 

“come on,” you whisper. you kneel down, snaking one arm around his waist. the other rests underneath his knees to support his legs as you lift him off of the ground. 

niki jumps at the sudden movement; arms instinctively wrapping around your neck. his laughter mixes with yours as you push the door open to carry him out of the hybe building. “let’s go home.”