#that was only ever gonna end poorly

[femboyclownpierce]

i think aimros, especially earlier aimros, could've been a lot more interesting if cc ros and cc aimee were willing to let their cubitos not be friends.

[solxamber]

Vice Housewardens + Kalim trying a period simulator

part 1 with overblot gang + adeuce + rollo

I love putting them through this

Trey Clover:

Trey had always been the reliable, grounded guy. Need a cake baked? Trey. Need a shoulder to cry on? Trey. So when you approached him with the suggestion of trying a period pain simulator for "educational purposes," he just adjusted his glasses and said, “Sure, why not?” with his usual level-headedness.

You’d attached the electrodes to his abdomen, and he watched, almost too calmly, as you adjusted the settings. “This isn’t going to be so bad,” he mused. “I mean, how bad could it rea—”

Level 3 hit.

Trey’s entire body stiffened like a poorly baked souffle. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, and his polite smile faltered into something...less composed.

“Okay. Alright. Th-That’s something,” he said, voice tight. His glasses started slipping down the bridge of his nose, and for the first time ever, Trey Clover—the epitome of calmness—looked mildly panicked. “W-Wait, are you sure this is—AH, WHY IS IT IN MY SPINE?”

You snorted as he shot you a look, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

By level 6, Trey was gripping the counter like it was holding him back from the gates of hell. “This is not natural. I’m convinced this is just dark magic. I think the dough is rising inside me.”

When it reached level 9, Trey—calm, responsible Trey—finally broke. “Okay, okay, STOP. I take it back. You are all warriors. I’ll bake you whatever you want for the rest of the week, just please stop.”

With a press of the button, you ended his suffering, and Trey fell back in his chair, gasping for air like he’d just run a marathon. He gave you a weak thumbs-up. “Good... good lesson. I have so much respect for you now. Never again.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie thought he could handle anything. Growing up in the slums, you learn to survive, right? So when you casually mentioned a period pain simulator, he scoffed. “Psh, it can’t be worse than a day of running around for Leona. Hit me with it.”

Oh, sweet Ruggie. He didn’t know.

You strapped him up, and as the simulator started, he just chuckled. “This is nothin’. I’ve had stomach cramps before. Ain’t gonna—”

Level 4.

Ruggie doubled over, hands on his knees, eyes wide. “H-Hey, what the—ow, ow, OW! Is this what you deal with?!” His voice cracked as his body spasmed.

By level 6, he was on the floor, clutching his stomach. “I’m sorry for everything. For stealing your snacks, for—oh seven, is this my punishment for that time I ate all your donuts?!” He was gasping, rolling on his back, legs kicking in the air like he was trying to outrun the pain.

“Ruggie, I’m only at level 7,” you said, laughing.

Level 9 hit, and that’s when it got wild. “PLEASE! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING! I’LL WASH ALL OF YOUR LAUNDRY. I’LL DO GRIM’S CHORES. JUST TURN IT OFF.”

You finally turned it off, and Ruggie lay there, twitching, face pale. “...I’ll never complain about anything again. Ever.”

Jade Leech:

Jade approached the period pain simulator like he did everything else—with unnerving curiosity. “Fascinating. I’ve heard about this phenomenon, but I’ve never had the chance to experience it firsthand.” He grinned that unsettling grin of his as you set it up.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” he added with eerie confidence, as if he were about to observe himself in an experiment.

Level 2 was fine. At level 4, he twitched slightly. “Interesting sensation. It feels as though something is constricting. Very curious.”

At level 5, his smile wavered, just a bit. His breathing hitched, and his hand twitched. “Ah. I see. A dull, persistent ache.”

By level 7, Jade was gripping the edge of his chair, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “This... is more intense than I anticipated. Quite...quite challenging.”

Level 9, and his grin was gone. For once, Jade looked almost human—panicked and wide-eyed. His fingers dug into the table as he gasped, “What is this? Is this...some sort of torture technique?”

You had to fight back laughter as he gave you a rare, pleading look. “Turn it off...please.”

When it finally stopped, Jade blinked rapidly, straightening himself with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’ll admit, I underestimated that. Quite... informative.”

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim thought this was going to be fun. Like a game. “Sure! I’ll try it!” he chirped, flashing his bright smile. “This’ll be interesting!”

At level 2, Kalim was still smiling. “It kinda tickles!”

By level 4, his eyes widened. “O-Oh. That’s...that’s a bit tight, huh?”

Level 6 hit, and Kalim’s smile faltered completely. He was gripping the couch cushions, eyes wide with panic. “Wait, wait, wait! It’s like someone’s punching me from the inside!”

Level 8 arrived, and Kalim let out a full-on yelp. “Okay! O-Okay! I-I take it back! This isn’t fun at all!”

You were wheezing with laughter as Kalim squirmed, trying to adjust himself in the chair, like it would somehow lessen the pain. “It feels like my insides are doing a dance but... but not in a good way! Jamil! Help!”

When you finally turned it off, Kalim lay there, panting like he’d just escaped a wild party gone wrong. “Wow. Just... wow. I didn’t know! How do you survive this?”

Rook Hunt:

Of course, Rook approached this experience like everything else in life—with an excessive amount of enthusiasm. “Ah, mon trésor, you wish to grant me the experience of such a unique sensation? Marvelous! I am prepared for anything!”

You hooked him up, and he was practically vibrating with excitement.

At level 2, Rook was still poetic. “Ah, it begins. A subtle whisper of discomfort, like the winds of autumn brushing against one’s skin.”

Level 4. “Ah! A deeper ache, much like the pull of unrequited love! So sharp, so vivid! I feel it in my very core!”

Level 6 hit, and Rook...started sweating. “Oh...oh my, it is as though my very soul is twisting! A veritable storm within me!”

At level 8, Rook clutched his chest dramatically. “Mon dieu! The anguish! How does one continue to live with such torment on a monthly basis? I am in awe of your strength!”

You were practically crying with laughter as Rook, finally humbled, gasped, “Turn it off, s’il vous plaît! My poetic heart cannot take any more of this agony!”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia had lived for centuries. He had fought in wars, seen empires rise and fall, so surely this would be nothing, right? “Ah, this? A pain simulator? How quaint,” he said with a smirk as you set it up.

At level 3, he was still smiling, though you noticed a twitch in his left eye. “Hmph. I’ve had worse.”

Level 5 hit, and Lilia stiffened, his smirk turning into a grimace. “Oh...that’s rather unpleasant.”

Level 7 arrived, and Lilia’s face contorted. He gripped the arms of the chair, his tiny frame shuddering. “This is worse than I thought” he muttered.

At level 9, Lilia—a warrior who had seen millennia—let out a tiny, high-pitched yelp. “STOP! TURN IT OFF! THIS ISN’T RIGHT!”

You immediately turned it off, watching in amusement as Lilia leaned back in his chair, panting. “Well...I didn’t expect that to be my undoing.” He gave you a weary smile. “You are far stronger than I ever gave you credit for.”

Masterlist

[lay-z]

Simon Riley wants to eat you alive.

Everyone privileged enough to be considered close to him, knows that Simon Riley has the biggest sweet tooth.

He eats his dessert first if he feels like it which is most of the time and would rather munch on a box of Belgian pralines than scoff down a more nourishing MRE in the field.

He doesn't have a favourite. Creamy chocolates and toffees, fruity hard candies, succulent cakes and biscuits, hell even salted licorice if he's particularly desperate.

The man has been claimed dead one too many times in his wretched life at this point, so why should he bloody care about something silly like his sugar intake. If he sees something sweet, he will simply lift his mask high enough to stuff his ugly gob full with a whole cupcake in one obscene bite before hiding behind the cloth again, wiping the frosting off his gloves on the dirty ground or even his fatigues carelessly.

No one ever dares to comment on the strange sticky stains on his gear; the smudged pinks, and whites, and browns. When Johnny called him gross once, he ended up with a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and a better understanding of his Lieutenant's sugar addiction.

However, the craving stays and festers in his gut like an insatiable hole that's been carved into his battered body, and no piece of cake nor chocolate can begin to sate his hunger for something soft and sweet to sink his crooked teeth into.

It's no surprise then, when Simon notices you one fateful day; sniffs you out, because he easily catches your scent as you walk past him with your gaze straight ahead, and he knows the sour bitterness that seems to be oozing out of your pores all too well.

It's such a feeble attempt of yours at keeping your own mask in place; hiding behind thick layers of pessimism and sarcasm, dark humor, and feigned indifference, although it only makes Simon's mouth water even more as he knows exactly what you're hiding behind your poorly crafted walls.

Because next to his sweet tooth, he's also a bloody masochist loves feeling his cold heart thumb with something akin to feelings whenever you reject his clumsy advances. You've somehow gotten under his skin in a way that no one dared to even try before and Simon is ready to rip his mask off and tear down his own walls to make you understand, make you see that he's just the same, just as starved for something real and longlasting.

"You can stop with tha' whole," he makes a vague gesture with his gloved mammoth hand at you, "attitude shite around me now, luv. Not gonna work, ya know."

Again, you simply roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in exasperation as you avert your gaze from him with a frown, but Simon catches the flush creeping up your neck, warming your cheeks right up at his unyielding attention. So stubborn, just like him.

"Can't you go bother someone else?" you huff quietly, though he knows you don't mean it. "Bloody nutter." None of it.

And Simon, not Ghost, has finally found a new purpose in his life.

Hidden deep, deep down inside you, there's the softest and sweetest gooey core, and he is more than determined to peel away every thick layer like colorful candy wrapper all the colors already a warning in itself, one he shall too ignore until your fragile little heart is exposed, completely bared to him, so he can finally indulge, and lay his burning claim.

Oh, but little does he know you've been starving and denying yourself anything sweet for years as well, and perhaps, now that he gave you a taste of what you too been yearning for, you turn out worse than Simon himself.

Okay, I actually might turn this into a longer oneshot. Also, Simon would definitely save your name as Truffle<3 in his contacts :) @bloodytalefeathers 🤍

[usedpidemo]

Filmic (fromis_9 Chaeyoung, Nagyung, & Jiheon)

The first ripple is what you see: the waves of smooth flesh sending shocks throughout her body. Her nails digging into the sheets, her muscles shaking as it struggles to stay on all fours.

The second is what you feel: the tightness of her cunt as it pulses against your throbbing cock, overriding every other thought. Your hands deeply burrowing into her pale skin, trying to maintain some semblance of control, all while you try your best to make yourselves look good in front of the poorly setup camera under a dimly lit bedroom.

No wonder you can’t get it right the first time; you just can’t. 

—————

It’s never as easy as it looks. You can’t simply go through the motions like with any other job. And to be fair, it isn’t exactly your fault: you can blame Chaeyoung for having a tight ass and pussy.

No matter how many times you fuck her, no matter how many positions you put her in, the end result remains the same: one take just isn’t enough. No amount of practice and experience can ever prepare you for just how tight she is, how close she gets you on the initial entry, and how each thrust is like driving a stake through your loins. She feels so good that it’s unbearable.

It doesn’t help that she’s quite the mouthful in bed. 

“Ah—oh my God—yes—” she mindlessly drones on, delivering her demand in comically overexaggerated fashion that you have no clue whether it’s all part of the act or Chaeyoung being Chaeyoung. Same goes for how she backs her ass against your hips, making sure you fill her to the hilt. “Hm—fuck me with that big ass fucking cock—oh fuck—”

To her credit, she’s quite the natural in taking it all. The push and pull of your bodies against each other is enough to generate its own center of gravity. If this were simply a one night stand, you’d already be more than satisfied, but to be her partner, her fuckbuddy—you couldn’t have asked for a better job, even if by all accounts, you’re not doing particularly well right now.

As her ass bounces against your cock, the arch of her back and every ripple caught on camera, she’s putting on quite the show. On the other hand, you’re struggling to keep up, gripping her waist as you pound to her pace, only to find the knot in your stomach burning brighter and hotter. It’s a mistake that comes with the package of having to fuck such a tight, godly woman like Chaeyoung. Slaps of skin rubbing against skin fill the space between thrusts, complemented by the echoes of her whiny cries reaching to the ceiling—

And you’re asking yourself, what sane person—hell what degenerate—even gets off to this shit. Then you look at what's right in front of you. There’s your answer.

“Christ—you’re gonna make me fucking cum—oh my fucking God—” Chaeyoing whines, tossing her dark hair around, so off-putting, you almost lose grip at how unexpected she is.  “Keep fucking that big dick in me—”

You can only respond in deep grunts and frantic breaths, straightening what little resolve you have to at least do your part. Keeping your gaze fixated on the tremble, the little jiggle of her shapely ass, your cock entering and exiting, getting wetter with each slam, staining her sheets—

“Gonna cum for you, baby,” you mumble, biting your lower lip, closing your eyes, trying to stretch moments into hours. “Gonna fucking cum—”

Here’s the thing about Chaeyoung: you don’t have a say when it comes to how long you last, because she dictates it for you. And the moment passes by so quickly, you’re left more blueballed than satisfied. 

You don’t remember the last time you’ve spent longer than five minutes inside her, but it certainly won’t happen tonight. Not while you’re violently throbbing, gasping for air holding your dick as it pulses inside her creamy cunt before you painfully draw it back. Blasting around the entrance of her core, hot and heavy, cumming all over her ass. Her body takes it—as in, effortlessly sucks up your cum, her skin glistening so bright it’s almost blinding. Your only respite is watching it slowly drip down her thighs and onto the sheets.

As the aftermath of your orgasms wash over you both and pass, Chaeyoung rolls onto her back and out of bed. Like you weren’t aggressively pounding into her and tearing into her foundations mere minutes ago. She limps toward the camera, still filming you, before she stops the recording. Checking through the reel, she shows you the footage. Watching yourself go hard into her, your mind can only focus on the noises you’re making, the stark contrast in tones. She laughs; you cringe.

“Wanna go at it again?” she asks you, drawing out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, eager to spread it all over herself—and to spread on all fours once more. 

Hand on your beating chest, you tilt up to the ceiling, exhausted, doing something only a rare few on this planet would ever try to Chaeyoung, even though it’s your primary purpose: “How about we get out of bed and go to work?”

—————

Several floors down her apartment building is where your day job lies: a seemingly innocuous bar. The place is usually empty during weekdays, so you barely spend time ‘working’ there, but the weekends are when business picks up.

To be fair, you can hardly call it a job; you co-run the place, but you’re mostly there to serve customers and play matchmaker, most of which happen to be pretty women. It helps that Chaeyoung also hangs out most of the day to entice people inside, giving herself fresh material to work with.

And she sells. 

You’re already sure of what it is, before she even shows her phone, and wouldn’t you know it: it’s the 14th straight video of her back dripping with cum from her latest client, with nausea-inducing shaky cam included. Doing it with you on the side wasn’t enough; Chaeyoung has to get her daily fill from desperate men who have all the money to throw around, or desperate loners to find some temporary companionship. Perhaps both. They get to fuck a hot woman, she gets paid big bucks. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

You see the large, burning red blot covering most of her ass. It tells you everything.

A quick glance away from her proud look and you see a guy scrambling out of the restroom with a hand between his pants, tissue barely hanging on his fingertips.

Yep. That’ll do.

Back to the stats: it’s another hit. It hasn’t even been 5 hours and her latest post has over half a million views and just as many likes from her subscribers. She’s running up her numbers, and she’s telling you how she’ll make millions in less than a year. You’ve crunched the numbers, and she’s right: you call it anal-ytics, and she just punches you in the arm. Your interpretation of comedy is radically different from hers (and unfortunately, she doesn’t appreciate your sense of humor).

“You should really get on,” Chaeyoung tells you, proudly showing you post after post, every thumbnail almost indistinguishable from one another: each a still frame of her heart-shaped ass. Almost every video has three million views or more, even if none of them pass the five minute mark. Same goes for her pictures. She can post a picture of any of her body parts and it’ll make money. “It’s really tough in this economy, you know? For you, it’ll be light work, just like fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say, Miss ‘I can’t be assed to work a real job so lemme whore out for some cash’ Chaeyoung.” You’re saying this, knowing full well you’re no better than her. 

“Look who’s talking, Mister ‘BIG-1, the number two male pornstar in Korea.’ How’d you end up paying for this bar and every food truck you send to your co-stars? Hm?”

As expected, the rebuttal is brutally honest. You’ve got no counter to that.

But see, the experience has become so numbing: it’s not as easy to get the complete satisfaction of fucking a girl these days, no matter how hot they are. No matter if they’ve got the thickest ass or the biggest tits on the planet. It also doesn’t help that you’re in Chaeyoung’s ass almost every other day when you’re not ‘working.’ At some point, the law of diminishing returns has come to take its dues.

Before the two of you can continue to bicker back and forth, the entrance door bell chimes, and in comes a familiar face, bringing her share of books and laptop with her. 

“Hey. Don’t mind if I brought a friend with me today,” Jiheon says to the four people inside the bar. Trailing right behind her is a fresh face to your small circle. And like most of your guests, she’s undeniably pretty. A face worth plastering on magazine covers and billboards.

There’s a common ground that you and Chaeyoung can stand on. Now you’ve both got some ideas in mind. Fresh blood is much needed around here.

“I’ll have the usual,” Jiheon says out loud, as if everyone recognizes that she’s a regular—which she is. Her partner has been unusually quiet, only mumbling to her with a hand around her face. “My friend will have the best seller,” she shouts right after, essentially acting as her friend’s mouthpiece.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the place, Chaeyoung is goading you into making the first move. “I did the last one. Your turn.”

You lift an eyebrow, hesitant. “Don’t think she’ll want to talk to me—or anyone for that matter.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” she replies. You’d assume that Chaeyoung would be more than willing to talk, considering these two are friends and have some knowledge around the industry. Nope—she’s protecting herself by using you as a shield if it falls apart. “Plus, that’s Jiheon. She’ll make anyone open up. Better than me, even.”

Begrudgingly, you concede. Walking over to the counter, you get their drinks. That’s how you get customers to stay for more: by making them feel welcome and making their experience personal. Jiheon’s too focused on her laptop to care at the moment, while her friend is on her phone, quietly scrolling. Shifting in her seat, shaken and uncomfortable, seemingly looking for an excuse to see herself out.

“Thanks,” Jiheon eventually notices, adjusting her glasses. “So—how’s it been?”

“Not much, really,” you reply, “And you?”

“Same. You know how it is.” She’s clicking through what appears to be some form of academic document. You’re so used to seeing Jiheon in uniform for all the wrong reasons that you tend to forget that she’s an actual student outside of the internet. Then again, she’s hardly on social media, with months between posts. “God, research is so boring. I just wanna go full-time with work.”

“Right?” You chuckle, trying to get through her so you can get to her friend, quietly sipping on her drink. Jiheon’s beverage has been hardly touched. “So—who’s your friend here? She’s new.”

Looking up from the laptop screen, she stares directly at you before turning to her shy friend. “Oh, yeah. This is Nagyung. Nakko, this is a friend of mine,” she says, encouraging her to shake hands, which you both do respectfully.

“Nagyung? As in, the actress? Lee Nagyung?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her first spoken word and hopefully many more to come. That explains her quiet and unusual behavior; she doesn’t want to be found and spotted in public. She’s had a few supporting roles here and there, got some awards, and her face is easily recognizable, even if she hasn’t completely broken into the mainstream. How you didn’t catch on right away is a mystery to you.

“Relax. Like I said, he’s a close friend of mine, and this place generally doesn’t get a lot of people, so I like studying here,” Jiheon reassures Nagyung, and she does mostly calm down, albeit still a little tense and jittery. “So—what’s up?”

“Well, you see—”

“Hi! I’m a huge fan of your work in Shadow Beauty,” interjects Chaeyoung out of nowhere, pushing you aside to energetically shake both of Nagyung’s hands. What little goodwill you’ve built between you, gone in an instant. She’s smiling awkwardly, clearly on edge by her manic energy. You’re surprised Chaeyoung can even name one drama she’s starred in, even if that’s what got her on the map. “You know you’d be quite the face in po—”

“Wait.” You immediately cover Chaeyoung’s mouth with your hand, resisting her effort to fight through it and speak her truth. Pulling her aside, you blurt out to Jiheon and Nagyung you’ll return to them in a moment before distancing yourselves to speak in private.

“What the hell?” you question Chaeyoung, pouring out your newfound frustration. “She was just getting comfortable y’know? You can’t just come in and yap up a storm. Not everyone is like that.”

She looks at you with a baffled gaze. Like this is normalized behavior. Like you should expect this to happen with every new person you two meet. “Dunno, she seemed quite into me.”

And you fire a blank-eyed stare back, in complete disbelief at her interpretation. “You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Maybe.”

You can only shake your head and sigh—exasperated.

“I’m just saying. Maybe she knows,” says Chaeyoung, in what appears to be an attempt at sounding optimistic. “I mean, isn’t Jiheon—”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so.” You shut her down before the notion even finds ground. While Jiheon also is a star on her own, she’s quiet in her own right to keep her idol side and personal life completely apart. “Let’s not get any ideas right now, especially with her around.”

“Fair enough. But if she even gets the slightest hint, I’m gonna reel her in.”

“Why are you so adamant about putting Nakko onto porn?” you ask, slightly bothered by Chaeyoung’s resolve. It’s almost twisted in a way. “Last time you did that, Saerom—”

“Okay. That may have been a little too fast,” she interrupts, chuckling at the incident that caused Saerom to walk out. You haven’t been in contact with her since. That was several months ago, and not much has changed since then. “But swear to God, I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You better not.”

So you go back out there first, telling Chaeyoung to wait a few minutes before she can rejoin the conversation. Jiheon and Nagyung are talking it up when you suddenly slide back in. 

“Sorry for that,” you interject, putting on your best smile. Like you’re working service for once. Thousands of possible scenarios are playing out in your head, ranging from ideal to the worst. You’re looking at Jiheon first, then turning your attention to Nagyung. “So—Nakko, right? How’s the whole acting gig working out for you?”

She blinks a few times. Looks at Jiheon, who simply lifts her eyebrows and smiles back, shrugging her shoulders. 

“It’s—” she’s pausing, prolonging the last sound of that word. “Fine? I haven’t had any scripts coming in lately. It’s tough. But I’m doing okay.”

“Hm. Well—I know of a few people who can get you some gigs,” you tell her, your confidence shooting through the moon as you haven’t fumbled through your words. “Trust me, I’m an actor too.”

“Really?” Nagyung intently looks at you upon hearing that you’re a fellow actor..

“Let me introduce you to my friend, Chaeyoung. She knows her connections.” You’re looking over your shoulder, anticipating for her to have your back. You’ve got it all rehearsed and practiced in your head. She doesn’t show up. 

Way to kill the momentum. Again. 

“Oh Jesus—Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung finally emerges from behind the wall, more invested on her phone than the situation. “Oh. Sorry, got caught up with a new client,” she casually says, hastily tapping on the screen. “Anyway, are you interested in doing porn?”  

—————

“So you don’t have to show your face?” Nagyung asks, gobsmacked at what Chaeyoung is showing her on the phone. One look at her face tells you she’s trying to make sense of all this to no avail. Jiheon has put aside her homework to help guide her through the process.

“They’re locked behind paywalls, but these do so well that those are basically bonuses,” she replies, proud of showing her ass getting blasted on camera in every single thumbnail. Between her videos and all the illicit content she posts on the regular, she’s got the best of both worlds in quantity and quality. 

“And you don’t get tired of it? Like at all?”

“Nope! I’d say it’s the best job in the world,” she says, making sure Nagyung sees the monthly revenue on her account, in the millions. All on simple five-minute videos and nude body shots. 

“Heoni, tell me you’re not doing this too,” Nagyung looks at her friend, arching an eyebrow, hoping she isn’t playing along.

Jiheon can only shrug her shoulders and flash a gummy smile back.

Nagyung can’t believe it. Both hands on her forehead, her head is gonna explode in light of this revelation. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Well. I figured you wouldn’t take it so well,” says Jiheon, cheeks flustered and red from embarrassment. “I mean, with you being a serious actor and all.”

“I thought you said you were acting too,” replies Nagyung, feeling a little betrayed by her friend from hiding her secret hustle. “Like theater or drama acting in college—or something.”

It’s a good thing the bar is relatively empty right now, because you’re certain every other sane person would have walked out at this point hearing this conversation.

“I do some of that, yeah,” Jiheon tells her, still shrugging her shoulders, flippant. “But nothing compares to being myself on camera, you know? And also, it does pay extremely well. I can vouch.”

Chaeyoung shows her the most viewed pages on the site, even though Nagyung has no intention to look. This is too much for her to comprehend. At the top spot is Jiheon aka creamandheoni, with chaengrang in second place. It isn’t even close; the disparity between them both is about as large as the gap between runner-up and everyone else. They’ve been dominating the rankings over the past several months, even though their content is mostly them being dominated and used over and over again.

Nagyung’s shaking her head in denial, refusing to buy into their attempts at convincing her. There’s no way in any universe does selling their bodies make more money than true, honest-to-God acting. In no way should they be rewarded more for doing less. It’s far too outrageous of a concept to be taken seriously. 

“We’re not bullshitting you, Nakko,” says Jiheon, patting her friend’s back. “If you want firsthand proof, join us tomorrow to see how it works.”

“Why would I want to go to a porn studio?” questions Nagyung, giving Jiheon a judgmental look for even proposing the idea. “And if one paparazzi or fansite  sees me in there? A stray camera? My career will be over before it even starts.”

“It’s a lot more intricate than that,” Jiheon reassures her, her voice a persistent calm in spite of the uncertainty. An admirable feature that makes her a great professional. “It’s almost the same as filming a drama or movie, with just—a few more gratuitous sex scenes.”

The youngest girl blinks. Realizes there’s a lot more than advertised. “Okay. Maybe a lot more sex scenes, actually.”

“God.” Nagyung’s cursing under her breath, vehemently in denial that she might as well cover her ears. 

All of you could sit here and continue convincing Nakko about trying something new. You’re surprised she hasn’t walked out with the repetitive use of arguments. Show her the monthly stats, the paychecks, the follower counts—it isn’t enough. As a new customer walks in, you figure that this was the sign to stop. The lively air in the room quickly changes to brutal awkwardness.  

But after a while, Nagyung finally breaks the silence, sighing. “All right. I’ll go—”

Before she can go on, you can feel the giddiness emanating from Chaeyoung, so infectious that you contract her fresh spark of energy. Jiheon’s smiling.

“—but if I’m not convinced, I won’t do it, and you won’t be able to change my mind.”

That she was finally won over is more than enough of a reason to celebrate. Even if it’s out of kindness for a friend. You can sense by the appalled look on her face that she’s already regretting this. 

—————

And sure enough, Nagyung follows through on her word. Timely and professional, showing up early in the studio. She’s hilariously overdressed, covering herself with a hoodie, sunglasses, and the thickest layers of clothing possible to maintain complete anonymity. 

“This is where you shoot stuff?” Nagyung asks you, the earliest one inside. The other two women, one of which being your on-screen partner today, haven’t arrived yet. It’s a relatively unassuming, normal building, all things considered—not a grimy shithole that she imagined. 

“Yeah. Productions tend to be incredibly cheap, so much so that we tend to reuse everything,” you tell her, matter-of-fact. “For maximum profit, you know? Like a normal studio.”

“I can believe that.”

Looking out into the distance, you see Jiheon running for her life, almost losing grip on her belongings in her haste. She manages to hold on, successfully catching up with both of you at the studio entrance, with her legs being spent at her expense.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffs, gasping for air, hands on her knees, tired. A look at your schedule tells you she’s actually almost an hour early. “I had a last-minute photoshoot to do, but here I am.”

You wanna tell her the truth, but you don’t. She’s too sweet of a person to break her heart.

On the other hand, Nagyung doesn’t care. “Heoni, filming doesn’t start for another hour.”

“Really? Damn.” Jiheon flashes a defeated look at her friend and you, devastated at her efforts going to complete waste. She laughs the pain away; it’s evident on her face. “Well that’s what happens when you’ve got your schedules all messed up.”

Not long after, you get a message from Chaeyoung telling you she won’t be able to make it on time, leaving you down to three. Another client, she says, meaning she’s gonna spend most of her day getting railed and filming herself for new content. For her, the grind never stops.

So you climb up the elevator together,   the eighth floor is where the magic happens. Passing through a narrow corridor, a nude woman suddenly emerges from one of the production rooms. Her body trembling, she gives you an inviting wink as she walks in the opposite direction. Nagyung looks back, then at you and Jiheon, alarmed that this is a seemingly normal interaction.

The woman walks into one of the bathrooms, her ass swaying hypnotically as you look back. As she completely disappears from view, Nagyung refocuses her attention back to you, baffled. 

“What the hell? Who was that?”

“Oh, Seoyeon?” You chuckle. “We know each other. Most of us.”

“Most of us?”

As you step inside the room at the far end of the corridor, you explain to Nagyung, “Yeah. The girls are the stars here, and us guys trade partners every week.”

“Jesus.” You can sense the regret in Nagyung’s voice. “That’s gross.”

The comment doesn’t faze neither you nor Jiheon; it was a given considering she’s still an outsider. It’s no different than kissing a traditional co-star—mostly.

But moving on to what’s ahead, the film set is already ready, with the production crew making last minute adjustments. The director fixes his glasses, realizes his cast have finally arrived, and he looks tired. The guy looks so done, even though nothing has happened yet. 

“There you guys are,” he comments, noticing the elephant in the room. “And who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Na—”

Jiheon’s mouth is suddenly stopped by a harsh blow to her ribs courtesy of Nagyung’s elbow. 

“Sorry. I mean—Christine.”

“Well tell them if they’re not a cast or crew, they should kindly buzz off.”

“No, no. She’s here to learn and wants to join at some point.”

“Join?” He shoots back a puzzled look. Taps his foot. No one in the right mind willingly wants to do porn. It’s the lowest of the low, you’ll admit, and there are better ways to find exposure into the greater entertainment industry, especially if you’ve already got one foot inside. If not for your friend’s influence, you’d keep your double life separate too, just like Jiheon. “Hm. I don’t know.”

At the worst possible time, the director has an existential crisis. He’s hesitant to let her in, but at the same time, doesn’t want to kick her out either. Before his head explodes from anxiety, he tells you to head into the dressing room to get ready at once. 

—————

Inside, Nagyung continues to be stunned at how casual everything is between you and Jiheon. That you’re both undressing right in front of each other, at how normalized nudity is, like you’re in your homes and not preparing to film sex in front of cameras and random strangers. The younger woman brought her actual university uniform along because the company can barely afford to film props, and same goes for you—a simple suit and tie. 

“So this is totally normal? Normal for both of you to just do this? No intimate feelings whatsoever?”

Both of you nod back, humming a harmonious mhm in unison.

“Kind of numb to it at this point,” you say, buttoning the last of your shirt. “I mean, there are some feelings, but we’re professionals. It’s all done with consent, obviously.”

Jiheon chuckles, her trademark gummy smile bouncing back through her mirror as she brushes her hair, putting on the finishing touches on her appearance. “It helps that you’ve got such a nice cock.”

Both of you end up laughing heartily, much to Nagyung’s dismay.

“But for real, I trust you more than anyone,” she tells you, walking over to your side to fix your tie properly, playfully slapping your cheeks. “I mean, that and you being the number one male—”

“Right. Not a real achievement.”

“Come on, carry yourself with pride,” Jiheon remarks, repeatedly clapping your face, turning that little frown upside down. “Who else can say they’re the top male porn star in Korea for six months straight?”

Before things get a little more personal, you hear the director calling your names. It's go time.

—————

Nagyung casually sits behind the others on set, keeping her identity concealed, but she easily stands out based on how overdressed she is compared to everyone else. No one can hardly be arsed to dress up on the job, showing the lack of seriousness. They want to get this over with and move on to better, more dignified work.

The director tells you to look into the camera as you’re put into this compromising position; Jiheon bent on the prop desk, her damp underwear in view as you press your bulging pants against her lifted skirt. The job never becomes easy, no matter how much you rehearse. Your co-star, on the other hand, is already having the time of her life; it’s written all over her face. How she wants it. How she badly needs it inside her right now.

Your cock wants her too. The feeling is mutual.

The director checks through the script, which doesn’t matter at all. The story is about as cookie cutter and as generic as anything you’ve seen in theaters lately. She’s the bratty student looking for an out, you’re the teacher with a moral crisis. Of course you’re gonna fold; you don’t need a prompt telling you that you’ll fuck her and bend the rules behind everyone’s back. You’ve seen this movie play out over and over again in different ways. The only difference being that the student is Jiheon. She’s the splitting image of the hot student fantasy that it’s an astonishment this is her first go at the premise.

Ironically, Jiheon follows the script by the book, word for word. You can tell that it’s been written by people whose only experience with sex is through porn and nothing else. If she wanted to, she could genuinely act. There’s something distracting hearing her deliver her lines in a surprisingly professional manner that you flub your cue multiple times. Not to say she’s entirely responsible, but she does contribute quite a bit; you couldn’t be arsed to read yours. So you’ve been winging it, much to your director’s annoyance.

The guy wasn’t expecting to actually direct today. 

“What’s going on, man?” he rages while on the chair, frustrated that you’ve blown your lines eight times. He’s suffering. “Did you even read the script?”

“Mhm,” you tell him, playing down the seriousness of his predicament. The consummate worker she is, Jiheon takes you aside privately for a word as he calls for a quick breather. 

“Something up today?” Jiheon asks you, redirecting your wandering gaze back to her while you search for Nagyung. She has seemingly disappeared between takes.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, unable to figure out the issue yourself. 

“Is it because of Nakko, right?”

“Maybe.”

She looks around the set herself, with Nagyung nowhere to be found. “Well, that’s not what matters right now. If she doesn’t want to, then it is what it is, right?”

You pause for a moment before nodding. “Right.”

A moment later, Nagyung emerges from the dressing room, taking a seat away from everyone else on set. It’s all in your head. The doubt. The unease. Parting in an instant. Like you’ve got something to prove.

So when you go for your ninth take, you feel a completely different person than you were minutes ago. The responses come naturally, even if it’s mostly ad-libs and improvisation. The director keeps it rolling as you effortlessly pace through the nonexistent teasing and pleasantries: commanding Jiheon to drop to her knees and unbuckle your pants like the naughty student she is. 

Even in front of cameras, you can only see her.

The director makes sure your erect cock is in clear view, already dripping with precum. Right on cue, Jiheon looks over her shoulder and looks directly at the camera, wrapping her fingers around your base. A thumbnail worthy shot. She makes sure the sound equipment hears every slurp and hum from her lips when she takes you into her mouth; bobbing her head back and forth as she sucks you dry, making you squirm on the chair.

Grabbing her by the hair, pacing her suction and forcing your cock deep in her throat. Staining her otherwise pristine face and pretty lips with thin streaks of white. Taking slow, passionate licks on your tip, giving herself a taste. Internally, you’re telling yourself you’ll nail this in one take; if you don’t do it now, you won’t do it ever, and no amount of visual effects and post-production can come close to filming that level of authenticity.

You’re not sure whether you’re filming porn or actually going for it at this point.

As more of your cum splatters on her face, Jiheon has your cock gripped in one hand, unbuttoning her shirt with the other. Giving you a blurry glimpse of her cleavage, the ecstasy feels so good that finding focus is nearly impossible. You’re losing it. Meanwhile, the cameras are still rolling, capturing every single detail. Besides the lewd sounds you’re making, the set is eerily quiet, as if they’re letting you both run the show, which you are.

“Yeah—fucking do it—do it baby—” Jiheon rasps, pumping you fast and reckless without concern or consideration, demanding you cum for her. “Come on—give your favorite student what she deserves.”

And quite frankly, you just might.

Thrusting, following her pace, gasping for air, gritting your teeth. As though you’re dangerously close to falling off a cliff. As if her hand wasn’t enough, Jiheon teases you with the faintest touch of her tongue. That needy, thirsty tongue. Tip to tip, squeezing the smallest drop of cum out of your cock, in the lewdest expressions imaginable. She’s putting on quite the show. If you weren’t so preoccupied with keeping yourself together, you’d be disappointed for not keeping up.

The camera absolutely loves Jiheon, that’s for certain. She’s taken to being under the spotlight as easily as putting on shoes: quite effortlessly. All eyes are drawn toward her as she lets it go: pointing your throbbing cock all over her shirt, her bra, and all over her face. She milks you for all your worth; the sensation feels so damn good it hurts. Half her face is painted in your cum, as if her skin can glisten any brighter. And once she finally empties you clean, she licks herself, tastes whatever amount of you she can reach.

If it weren’t for the cameras rolling, you’d pass out right then and there. But there’s still more to do, all in the name of fanservice and views.

As you prop Jiheon on top of the desk, barely able to drag your legs, a quick glimpse of Nagyung tells you everything you need to know. She’s got a hand covering her mouth; you don’t need to see through those sunglasses to sense her shock and disbelief. If only she could walk away now, but she can’t. But before your attention lingers a few moments longer, Jiheon redirects your gaze back to her. Back to what’s important.

You don’t even realize she’s borderline naked, only keeping her stained skirt on her body. Slipping your hand between her legs, you shed her panties down her legs. It’s just as drenched as you expected; there’s no faking it. 

“Smell it,” Jiheon whispers to you, catching you completely off-guard. This wasn’t in the script. You can’t tell whether she’s speaking for herself or if it’s part of the act. Perhaps both.

Before you can even question her, the cameras remind you to stay in character. So you follow. 

Grinning as if she’s caught you in her trap, Jiheon spreads her legs wide, giving you a peek of her soaked pussy. Drawing you like a moth to a flame, you grab her thighs, spread her that extra inch wider, and dive headfirst into her cunt. 

She keens. Her body glued flat to the surface, shaking while your tongue makes work of her slick core. There’s no better place to drown in. The taste is so intoxicating, you can lay in it forever. 

Jiheon lets out these scuffed, disjointed cries of pleasure. Can’t formulate complete sentences, only erratic noises and volumes of profanities. “Fuck—fuck yes—so—so good—mmh—”

All while you’re filling up the room with the sounds of slurping and humming, drowning yourself in the savory nectar of Jiheon’s cunt. The desk begins to rock the rougher and deeper you go, losing yourself in the suffocating sensation of her pussy as her legs close in on your face.

Oh, you’re doing it for real, if there was any doubt.

As Jiheon straightens her knees upward, you can hear her whining grow louder. “Almost there—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

Like you had any intention to. 

“I’m gonna cum—please—it’s so—” 

And Jiheon’s voice cracks before she can finish. Turns into an airy whine as you’re tongue deep in her to care. 

She’s trembling all over when she cums. Turns your face into a canvas, an outlet of her orgasm. A torrent of her juices wash over your face, and you graciously take it all, drowning yourself in her bliss. There’s an authenticity that an intimacy coordinator can’t replicate. Genuine emotions pouring in, of pleasure, of pain, of everything in between. The correct thing to do would be to let it pass organically before moving on.

But of course, the director can’t even do that right.

“Cut!” he yells from his chair, ruining what otherwise would have been a perfect sex scene and continuation. Jiheon’s still in the throes of her peak when the cameras stop rolling, your face still buried deep in her aching core. As you rise up for air, your face is soaked twice over in her slick. Gasping, heaving for much needed air. Another still-worthy image. 

Making Jiheon cum and cumming on her is a reward in and of itself, but still: some positive remark or compliment from the director would have been nice. 

“That was good,” he tells you as the other crew come in to clean up your mess. “But I would have liked a little more dirty talk coming from you. Some degradation, you know? Like maybe calling her a slut, but we can fix that in post. Good work today, guys.”

—————

“So—what do you think?” you ask Nagyung in the dressing room. That one take was all that you did. You and Jiheon are done for the day. At least that’s what you believe.

“I—I don’t—I just—” Nagyung is too stunned to speak. She laughs, because she can’t find the right words to say. The entire time, she had been watching behind her sunglasses, never once removing them. For her eyes and sanity, probably the best decision. “You guys are really fucking crazy.”

“We don’t know what else to tell you,” says Jiheon, calm and casual about the whole thing. Like you didn’t just have sex in front of her for real, despite the film set serving as a backdrop. “I mean—I wished we went through with the penetration, but it is what it is.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” Nagyung remarks, tone sarcastic. “My eyes are gonna need bleach after seeing all that.”

“It’s me, so what I do is honestly tame by comparison,” Jiheon replies, swiveling her chair around, kicking her leg up. “You’ve got girls in threesomes, gangbangs, free use—”

“Okay, we get it.” Nagyung interrupts. “No need to explain any further.”

“But Nakko, wouldn’t you have to do a love scene at some point?” you bounce the notion, using her background as a means to get on equal footing. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got an intimacy coordinator, but—”

She’s quick to shut you down. “I’m not doing a love scene. Not in a million years.”

And you stop talking right then and there.

Nagyung pinches her forehead, stressed out by her internal quandary. You can sense that she doesn’t want to, but can’t say no. It’s palpable through her veins. She’s come at a crossroads with her career. On one hand, there’s opportunities for work and pay, but the implications it could have long term outweigh the short term benefits.

A few minutes of awkward silence follows.

“I don’t have to show my face—right?”

“Nope. Don’t have to,” you answer.

“Your voice though,” Jiheon says, concerned about her friend’s future too. “Your face can easily be masked, but your voice—”

“Yeah, I know,” replies Nagyung, deeply exhaling. “But—I’d rather do everything now and regret it later than not doing anything at all.”

“But your career—” Jiheon is alarmed by her friend’s sudden change of heart.

“Maybe no one recognizes me through my voice and I can moonlight like you do,” says Nagyung. “If it’s a flop, then at least I don’t have to do any more,” she tells her. “I want to test myself. See how far I can go.”

Jiheon takes a look at Nakko before turning to you. You’ve been convinced since she asked that first question. You’re only waiting for her.

You nod. And that’s what finally puts Jiheon at peace.

“Okay.” Jiheon rises from her seat, smiling. “Looks like we’re doing this. No regrets?”

Nagyung smiles back. “No regrets.”

—————

“Shit—oh fuck—oh shit—” Jiheon pants, her suffocating legs wrapped around yours while you pound her against the wall with running water washing down both your drenched, tangled bodies. “Keep going—I need this—need you—fuck!”

The feeling is mutual. Turns out, you can’t get your much needed satisfying orgasms when you’re in front of cameras. Some things are better behind closed doors and between two people alone.

The showers in the studio aren’t designed for quick clean ups; they’re an outlet. A conduit for co-stars to get their proper climaxes in when the cameras aren’t rolling. They’re designed to be as loud and proud as possible. It’s all the more evident when your moans are bouncing off the walls in thunderous, shattering echoes. Not even the running water can cover your tracks. Anyone in close proximity to the bathrooms can hear you. It’s the perfect place to unwind after any filming day.

“So—fucking—embarassing,” you tell Jiheon, more a shot at yourself than a comment about how needy she is. It comes with the package when it comes to shooting porn; something about fucking your partners in private ticks those marks compared to doing it in front of a professional crew. “Can’t believe you made me cum so fucking much—”

“Isn’t that the point?” she whispers back, her nails clawing down, taking lease of your back. Between moans, her body trembles wildly with each thrust you give her. Burying your cock deep inside her needy cunt with each stroke. You give her more of a reason to cling to you. “But maybe—maybe—” she stammers, her head drowning in so much ecstasy that she goes tongue tied. “Maybe—I should have let go sooner—”

Pumping Jiheon at an erratic rhythm, your hips gained a second wind after that much needed respite after filming. Struggling to capture her lips, you barely kiss her. “You can now. Fucking cum for me. Christ—”

The sound of flesh slapping flesh ripples through the room, overpowering even the continuous shower noise. You’re fucking her like you’ve got something to prove. Using her cunt liberally, her walls pulsing tightly against your throbbing cock, quickly burning through what little resolve you have built up. Try as hard as you can, the knot in your stomach lingers and lingers, slowly flooding your head, until you have no other choice—

It all comes crashing down. 

Jiheon melts in your arms, barely hanging on for dear life. The orgasm washes over her in turbulent ripples, shuts her up in an instant. Mouth hung wide, head tilted up for you to rest your head on her neck, moaning these sweet profanities that are music to your ears. She cums all over your cock, urging you to follow her right after—which you do.

The way you cum so soon, it makes you second guess why you’re in this position to begin with. It doesn’t match your best male KAV pornstar title. Nevertheless, you fill her, give her what she’s been fiending for the longest time. It makes the entire ordeal worth it.

You stay in Jiheon a bit longer. A lot longer than you internally promised. Even as your cock withers, you keep yourself buried with what little you have, letting your orgasms pass over quietly. Resting underneath the shower, your bodies entangled like pieces of a puzzle meant for each other, your lips meet halfway in an intimate, delicate kiss.

So maybe you’re starting to catch some feelings. But before it blossoms into something more, Jiheon breaks off the smooch, grinning against your face. She’s flustered all over; she feels the same way.

“I thought you needed help getting hard again,” she remarks, as her fingers push on your lower lip.

Blinking a few times, you reply, “You didn’t help anyway whatsoever.”

She laughs, smilingly cuddling against you before going in for another passionate kiss.

—————

A week later, you’re back in the studio, this time together with Chaeyoung and Jiheon in what’s basically a pornographic blockbuster. The two biggest female stars and the top male star in an internet-breaking film. Your careers have been building toward this moment. Hell, in a rare act of restraint, you decide to abstain from your regular escapades to prepare for this. Inside the dressing room, there’s a little predicament: Chaeyoung’s having a little fit about taking cum head on, because she doesn’t want to mess up her makeup and hair apparently. She’s spoken to the director about changing the scene multiple times to no avail. She’s frustrated. The ironic thing is: she’s the one who’s been talking about it nonstop. So this sudden change of heart comes off as strange and unusual.

“How about I do it?” Jiheon steps in, seeing the frenzied, panicked state Chaeyoung is in. She’s walking back and forth, close to pulling her extensions off, possibly making a bigger mess of herself more than what you’re about to do. “Is it this serious for you to back out last minute, Chaeng?”

“Yes,” Chaeyoung yells at her, making sure everyone hears her desperate plight. “I’ve got a client tonight, and he’s apparently a chaebol, so—”

“I thought you weren’t taking any clients today,” Jiheon says. Even this shoot is that important of an occasion to skip escorting—at least only for today. Apparently not. 

“It’s not often you get a million dollar payday,” Chaeyoung remarks, looking at herself in the mirror, examining every single detail about her. You can sense that she’s itching to leave at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Is it gonna hurt you to tell him that you can delay the meeting for tomorrow?” Jiheon asks, only to immediately realize the answer she’ll give. “Oh yeah—”

“It will.” Both Chaeyoung and Jiheon speak synchronously. 

Suddenly, you enter the dressing room, catching their attention. “Good news, Chaeng. I’ve gotten them to change the scene.”

Before you can say another word, Chaeyoung breathes out a needed sigh of relief, while Jiheon shakes her head. “Thank God,” Chaeyoung says, rubbing a hand on her chest. “So—what now?”

“Told me to come up with a scene,” you tell her. “And I’ve got an idea.”

—————

You can barely hear the director’s echoes from underneath Chaeyoung’s supple ass. Her butt almost fully presses on your face, cutting off most of your sensory functions. You need Chaeng and Jiheon to relay the question for you to fully understand.

“He’s asking if you can finish in this position,” Chaeyoung shouts, while you can barely breath down here. 

“What a ridiculous question,” you’re mumbling to yourself, as if anyone can even hear you right now, while you’re basically dying. To make matters worse, Jiheon’s squatting down on your cock, already buried in her cunt as a sort of unfinished business, sequel baiting move from last week’s session. The two girls are facing each other, all of you already in the nude. Even though you’ve been on-screen for half the runtime, this is their show, and you’re merely a glorified stage prop.

The only reason you can move is because of the grind of Chaeyoung’s ass, which is basically the stand-in for the director yelling action!

If only you can see what’s up there. How hot it would be to see Chaeyoung and Jiheon making out and caressing each other’s bodies. You know that’s what’s happening because you can hear the sound of muffled hums and gentle kisses. Even without your presence, this one scene alone would singlehandedly break the internet. The two top Korean pornstars fucking is about as surefire of a hit as any theatrical blockbuster.

All the better, Jiheon’s taking your cock as she kisses her co-star, her rhythm constantly disrupted, giving Chaeyoung all the leeway to go down on her svelte body. As always, she’s the loudest one in the room, the one with the highest sounding cries, the one with the sharpest moans. Chaeyoung’s got her arms wrapped around her back, taking purchase of her frame between passionate kisses. She goes down on the one thing she’s envious of, beside her ranking as number one: her supple, shapely tits.

Meanwhile, you’ve got your tongue buried between Chaeyoung’s ass, licking up her slick core, drinking as much of her nectar as you desire. You haven’t had a taste of her in a week, so this was like quenching thirst in the middle of a hot, dry desert.

Squatting on top of you, both women are gingerly bouncing on your helpless body, taking as much of you as they possibly can. Shared experience and common interest working at play. The pleasure sends shockwaves through their nerves, causing them to abruptly freeze in place. Taking this opportunity to dig your hands on Chaeyoung’s thick thighs, deeply slurping into her suffocating heat. They’re making music with their passionate, lust-filled moans.

The pleasure appears to be far more overwhelming than thought. Chaeyoung and Jiheon tremble atop you while they ride you in slow, sloppy motions. Their bodies feel heavy to move smoothly; this is your handiwork. You feel the harsh grip of their nails on your chest. The desperation. The need to cling for support.

“Oh,” you hear a prolonged whine, unsure who it’s from. “Oh God—”

Their breaths are heaving, deep, heavy. Moments stretching into minutes. Minutes stretching into hours. You’ve found true solace between Chaeyoung’s ass and inside Jiheon’s cunt. 

You hear a follow up groan. A continuous crescendo. It’s familiar enough for you to guess it’s Jiheon, and you’d be proven correct. In the midst of this mess, you never realized your own undoing had passed, and it’s because your mind lingered on Chaeyoung’s hole. You never felt the twitch of your cock at all. The creamy load that you were intending to share between the two women, all of it sucked up by Jiheon’s needy pussy instead.

It’s gonna be a challenge to tell Chaeyoung that she’ll have to drink it out of Jiheon’s cunt. 

A brief stir, followed by a gravelly echo, and then Chaeyoung hops off your face, letting you see the light. Jiheon also clambers off your cock, your connection broken by a thick string of cum glued between your skin.

The director rises from his chair, seemingly frustrated for some reason. He’s surveying the scene; it’s a mess. “God dammit. You came too soon.”

Your hips are drenched in a pool of your own sticky load. Likewise, Jiheon’s thigh is dripping to the floor full of you. It’s unlike you to finish quite prematurely. Elsewhere, your face is coated in Chaeyoung’s slick, but not to the same extent as your groin.

“How much did you film?” Jiheon asks him, professional sounding like always, albeit barely suppressing her laughter.

“About four minutes.” 

Four minutes is about 20 short of what was expected. As much as you savored the sensation, you’re not sure you can spend another five beneath Chaeyoung’s ass.

The director pinches his nose, thinking of possible ways to prolong the scene and deliver the best product possible. It may be porn, but it’s still people’s livelihoods at stake. In the meantime, the assistant calls for a break, meaning all three of you head back to the dressing room for a breather and additional touch-ups.

Taking a chair for yourselves, you can’t find the words to speak. So do your co-stars. 

The sound of the door swinging open captures all your attention, foregoing the customary knock. An unprofessional action, but then—

You see the person entering the room, and you all shut up.

“Hey y’all,” Nagyung says, bringing half a dozen shopping bags with her. She’s wearing sunglasses to hide her identity, of course. “Don’t mind if I make myself comfortable.”

You have no objections, even if you couldn’t outright say it. The other two share your sentiment. After all, it’s been a week since you last saw her. Something about a magazine feature, Jiheon said, explaining her sudden absence from your small friend circle. But now, she’s here, in the flesh, visiting during one of your more important film shoots.

The first thing Nagyung points out after setting her bags aside is the thick layer of cum on Jiheon’s skin. “I must have missed out on a hot scene,” she remarks, her gaze lingering on the large blot. Not even her bathrobe can hide the evidence.

“You only got here just now?” Jiheon asks, to which she merely nods.

“Should have gotten here earlier,” Chaeyoung comments, chuckling at her absent friend. “I swear, it was so—so—hot.”

“I bet it was,” Nagyung replies back, lightly shaking her head.

Before it goes awkwardly silent once more, you turn to Nagyung, asking her the big one. “So—have you decided? I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

Facing you, Nagyung hesitates for a moment. “Well,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to formulate her response. “I have thought about it. A lot. And as you know, I’d like to challenge myself, so—”

“Does that mean—” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Quiet, Chaeng.” You shush her.

Pausing again, Nagyung has this look of resignation and acceptance on her face. “Might as well give it a go.”

In an instant, Chaeyoung’s eyes light up, brimming with newfound energy. On the other hand, you and Jiheon silently nod. 

“Do everything and regret it later—”

“—Rather than not doing anything at all.” Everyone, including you, finishes Nagyung’s sentence in unison. 

“Exactly.” is her remark, amazed at how well all three of you know her mantra.

“I can’t wait,” Chaeyoung tells her, excited at the countless possibilities. “Us three, running the top of the ranks. It’s gonna be so fun.”

“Easy there. Nakko, I know this is gonna be a little bit of an adjustment, but it’s really a blast. Trust us,” says Jiheon, approaching her to be her guide through her new job. “And wouldn’t you know it, you have the best worker on standby to help you out too.”

“And who would that be?”

Jiheon points directly at you. Across your seat, Nagyung gently smiles, expectant and excited. Her friend is giving you a thumbs up, as if you’re a hundred percent down for the responsibility, when in reality, you’re not ready to guide a newcomer through the ropes. Especially one with a well-established public reputation like Lee Nagyung’s.

—————

“So, are you gonna like post that?” Nagyung asks, looking over her shoulder with a wary look. You’ve got her in bed laying on her stomach, her clothes lost on the floor save for her shirt, and you towering behind her, her bare ass trembling with your cock’s touch. With Chaeyoung out for tonight, the little studio where you normally shoot your films with her is available for practice—and you’re gonna take advantage of her absence. “My fees are hefty, you know.”

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head with a slimy, shit-eating grin. On one hand is your cock, pumping yourself hard against her core, the other holding a camera. Her ass is already wiggling against your shaft, and you don’t know whether you can capture this view perfectly once you start rolling. “This work of cinema is for my eyes only.”

Nagyung braces herself and clings to the edge of the mattress as you slowly dip into her pussy, suppressing her moans before she’s utterly consumed by your cock. By the way she reacts, you recognize that she’s born for the cameras, born for this moment.

—————

Later that week, you hear an unexpected knock on your apartment door. Under any other circumstance, you wouldn’t bother to entertain it at all; Chaeyoung’s sudden booty calls happen hours in advance. She would never come over this late. A look through the outside camera shows you a new presence: Nagyung.

You’ve got some questions running through your mind, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. So you welcome her inside without a second thought.

As soon as she enters your place, Nagyung sheds off the thick coat she’d been wearing unceremoniously, letting it fall to the floor. Her tits are protruding through her shirt, and she’s sporting the skimpiest pair of jean shorts you’d ever seen. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” she remarks, tone low. Picking up the discarded clothing off the ground, she opts to lay it on your couch rather than the rack close to the entrance. “Sorry if this is all out of nowhere—”

“No worries,” you miraculously manage to blurt out, your gaze lingering on her fine pair of legs. Her slim yet toned physique makes your mouth water. Can’t find the resolve to look anywhere but her eyes, no matter how hard you try. “But—how’d you get my address?”

“Friends know friends. Wasn’t hard.” She’s walking around your apartment, taking mental notes of your place. For someone with your line of work, it’s relatively modest and normal, like you’ve been doing a 9-to-5.

“Right.” You pick up her coat and set it on the rack without her noticing.

Nagyung turns around, facing you eye to eye as you approach her in the living room. Hands behind her pockets, graceful and cordial. The words that come out of her lips aren’t. “You’ve got the best dick around, and after that little trial run we did, I’d like a little more of it.”

It’s so sudden and unanticipated that you can only blink in response..

“So show me then. I need to see it again.” Every step she takes toward you, another step over that line. Her gaze, fierce and intense, goes from you down to your pajamas. Her hands reach for your pajamas, clawing at the fabric to feel your cock. The reaction is immediate; you can feel yourself throb at her hands, the need to free your raging dick. “You wouldn’t turn down a pretty girl like me, would you now?”

Never. Not in a million years. This seems like the exception. You know there are better ways to ease her in, to make the process a lot more comfortable. It’s not an easy adjustment. However, her eyes are begging, pleading in earnest for her to be thrown straight into the fire.

Under the shallowest guise of morality, you hesitate. Swallowing your throat, your voice goes hoarse—falls flat, lacks conviction: “I—I don’t think you should—it’s too soon.”

Your answer falls on deaf ears, because Nagyung continues to hold your cock, squeezing your ballsack. She gives you this teasing, offended look—a response to your half-assed attempt at convincing her otherwise. Sticking her tongue out like it’s second nature, the same manner she does on her Instagram photos. “Really? Did you say this to Jiheon too, huh?”

It seems to light a fire in Nagyung’s soul. She slides down your loose pajamas, enough to let your cock breathe in the air—and for her fingers to touch your tip. Enough for some precum to spill into her hand. Your head begins to spin; you’re feeling lightheaded. 

“Christ—Nakko—we can do this—just not now—” you say, deeply inhaling as she releases you from her grip. 

She takes a finger into her mouth, tastes a bit of you, before coating her lips with your sheen. Lifting an eyebrow, she appears totally unconvinced. “Again. Is this what Jiheon heard when she wanted to do this the first time?”

“No—”

Before you can get another word off, she drops to her knees, forcing your pajamas down to the floor. Your erection inches away from her nose, one hand wraps around the base, delicately pumping you, disrupting your train of thought. Her other hand holds onto your thigh, pulling you close. She dives in, takes you into her mouth, without hesitation. Filling herself with cock and soft hums, her tongue works backwards, licking from the hilt up to your tip in abrupt, erratic motions. 

Fucking hell, she’s such a natural at it.

“Everytime you answer incorrectly,” she mutters, struggling to take in your length, choking halfway before lodging you back in comfortably. “I’m gonna make you cum, but you won’t get to unload in my pussy.”

There are some fates worse than death; this is one of them.

Nevertheless, Nagyung continues to blow you effortlessly, like she was meant for it. This is essentially her audition and she’s passing with flying colors. Her harsh suction and smooth slurping splinters your senses, sends chills down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab her hair, find some semblance of control, but she moves at her pace, at her rhythm—and it’s a mess.

Not even thrusting into her throat can impede her.

“Just be honest with me,” she says, her voice making your cock vibrate. Her fingers remain active pumping, jerking you hard, measuring your load. “You’re trying to protect me, right? You wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining my acting career?”

You shake your head in denial, even as she continues her assault on your senses. Wrong answer.

“I don’t really care all that much. I just want your cock right now.” Nose to chest, Nagyung’s cheeks hollow out as she invites you throat deep. No gag reflex, even as she whimpers quietly, suffocating, gasping for air. Your fingers thread between strands of her hair, holding her in place, exactly as she wants. 

Merely a blur between your legs, she lightly bobs her head back and forth, relinquishing control into your hand. She’s too far gone, and so are you. You’re more than happy to oblige. 

Taking a brief opportunity to look up at you, Nagyung looks directly into your eyes. She’s never been more proud of herself. Proud to prove a point, proud to make you shut up like this. Internally, you are too; you’ve never had anyone blow you like this, take you into their mouth like it’s built to hold cock. 

“This is all on you, Nakko,” you huff, shutting your eyes, relishing the hot sensation of her mouth and lips. The yank on her hair tightens. “You wanted this.”

She songfully hums, her only response, currently immersed in taking as much of your cock as possible. You reward her, thrusting into her throat without care for comfort or rhythm, without respite. She coughs, she whines, she keens. Tears begin falling from her eyes, but she continues to take it extremely well. 

But neither of you can take it for long. Especially you with how new this sensation feels coming from her.

Your fingers twist her hair into a makeshift leash, controlling her pace to match yours. Except not really, you’re still going at full speed, never letting up for even a second. The ecstasy, the euphoria from using her mouth is too good to let go. Both her hands have given up, settling on your thighs for support. She has conceded complete control into your grasp. You’re now responsible as to whether or not you will ruin her career.

And you just might. After all, she’d given herself over, essentially coming to your side for greener pasture. You can only hope she really doesn’t regret it later.

“Gonna cum,” you groan out, pumping into her mouth, unrelenting. She feels so good, you can barely keep one eye open while she essentially rests on your pelvis, close to flying over the edge.

Nagyung makes this incomprehensible sound, garbled by cock—something between the lines of cumming all over face and never stopping. The thought never crossed your mind. Beside, you’ve got other concerns—particularly, the knot in your stomach tightening past repair. 

For a few precious moments, you feel it: the blaze of lust burning everything in sight, including Nagyung’s face. She chokes, gags on it one more time before releasing you from her grip, her hands returning to the base, intent on making sure you don’t miss a spot on her pristine features. 

Instead, your plunge between her lips again, her eyes widening, and fire away. Her mouth floods with a torrent of cum, thick, hot, filling her throat to the brim. She swallows it all, avoids wasting a single drop, and even she can’t fight it off any longer. She gave up her rights the moment she forced you into her mouth.

Even as the pulse weakens, and you eventually pull out again, Nagyung graciously drinks it up. Savors the taste like its water, like you’re the key to life itself. And while you’re able to avert a career-ending scandal by preserving her pretty face, there’s enough residue to stain her lips and chin, something you can wave off as an accident. 

The same can’t be said for her body hugging shirt. It’s mostly drenched in slick and sheen. Unsalvageable.

It’s the least of your worries right now. Your legs turn wobbly, and you slump back onto the couch, your strength drained all thanks to Nagyung.

“Okay. You got me,” you say, gasping between sentences, gathering as much needed oxygen for your lungs. Placing a hand on your chest, a glance at the woman and she’s licking up her lips for whatever cum’s left. “But—I still don’t think we should—”

Nagyung gets up from the floor and removes her shirt, tossing it aside. You’re rendered speechless at the last second. She’s not wearing any bra, her tits are out in full force, nipples taut and hot. But she’s not done yet; she makes quick work of her shorts, kicking aside her shoes before baring herself completely before your eyes. The sight leaves you shellshocked, your jaw completely agape.

As if you needed any more convincing that she’s ready to do porn. She’s got the makings of a top star; the looks, the body, the expressions, the voice—everything.

Extending out her hand to you, you grab and she pulls you from the couch before taking you to the bedroom. She lands belly first on the mattress, before arching her back, showing her plump ass directly before your presence. More importantly, she’s showing you how needy is through her wet panties, which you quickly slip off. Her wet holes, splayed and throbbing, drawing you in.

“Don’t you see how badly I want it,” she tells you, straightening her body on her fours as you join her in bed. “I’m ready. Just—please shove that big fucking cock inside my slutty hole. Please.”

It’s about as lewd as it sounds, yet still sincere. She’s too good of an actress to be doing mindless pornography.

For a moment, you consider otherwise. But then she’s continuing to whine ‘Please’ in the softest tone possible, and you can’t help but concede. Besides, you knew in your heart you were never gonna turn down a body and pussy like hers.

Lining your cock between her aching core, you give Nagyung a slap on her ass. In return, she yelps. Then another. Two should be enough, one for each cheek. But the visual of her body jiggling, rippling with each palmful as her skin turns from pale white to fiery red sets you further down an addicting, dangerous spiral. 

“Fuck, you’re really good at this,” you mutter, helping yourself to another palmful of ass. Her body trembles, glides down till you have her melted on the mattress. “Calling yourself a slut? Just like that? And I thought you wanted to be taken seriously as an actress.”

“No. I’m a slut,” she whines, her nails digging into the sheets, holding on for dear life. “I’m a slut for big cock, and I don’t care if it ruins me. Just please—shove that big cock inside me already. I can’t take it anymore.”

You want to test her a bit longer. More. To see how long it’ll take before she completely breaks. To find her limits and push them. And based on how needy she sounds, not that much longer.

“If you insist.” You hiss against her ear, spinning her around so she can meet you eye to eye. She’s trembling, anxious, ready to receive what she deserves. Hovering atop her, helpless and vulnerable, you gently slide in—and then she keens.

Nagyung’s cry of pleasure reaches high to the ceiling, filling the room with a sharp echo. The impact is immediate; her walls pulsate against your cock so tightly that it steals your breath. Impossible to drag yourself out. You can only gasp and catch yourself from grunting as loud as her, though it may have been better to give in. 

You feel her refusing to let go, the grip she has on you nigh inescapable. But you eventually slide back out, only to slip back in. Another whine forced from her lips. She’s doing it on purpose, you conclude, a way to break you back. A means to get you to fly over the edge.

Pinning her down to the sheets, going down on her neck, Nagyung’s sensitive to the touch. She quivers beneath you while you acclimate to her warmth, pounding her needy cunt at a slow, tempered pace. The tightness of her pussy enraptures you, continues to take your breath away. She’s all but a blur in your eyes, with her voice being the only guiding light as you fuck her. Her legs slowly wrap around you, keeping you in place so that you have no outs. 

Not that you had any intention of pulling away any time soon. 

Especially when she’s beginning—pleading—in the most strained of tones. 

“Ah—this—cock—this is so—oh my fucking God—” she whines, breathing heavily between words, her lips twisting in ecstasy. By impulse, her nails leave marks over your back, clinging to you desperately. “So fucking big—don’t you ever stop—”

“Never,” is your only response, and it’s oh so right. Your cock glides in and out of her core like water, effortless and silky. Your head is in a daze, going overboard through the unforgiving heat of Nagyung’s cunt. You’ve got a hand squeezed on her breast, surprisingly hefty for her proportions and size. You’re forcing out these noises from her, whether it may be a little cry or a deep whine. You can’t simply touch and admire her; you have to ruin her.

She’s dangerous; she’s an addiction you can’t get enough of. 

The bed begins to rattle, joined by the repeated, rhythmic smacks of skin slapping against skin. Pushing further along into her cunt, like you’re going to drown if you’re not balls deep inside her. It’s unlike you to go farther than normal, but you’re past the point of rational thought; the only thing that can set your mind right is what’s waiting on the other side.

“Nakko,” you mouth, and it comes out naturally. Like it’s meant to be. You can’t stop; you’re so far gone at this point. 

As you try to pull your head away, Nagyung twists her arms around your neck, wrapping you in an awkward, uncoordinated kiss. It’s sloppy and disjointed; your lips barely meet, her breath tense and hot, but passionate and sincere. Mouthing the gentlest ‘more’ and ‘so good and ‘harder’’ something you’re quite familiar with. A little reprieve and distraction from what’s to come. 

But the calm doesn’t last too long. The feeling continues to balloon higher and higher till it’s you’re at the tipping point of exploding. It doesn’t help that Nagyung continues to encourage you with all the little things; her shrilly whines, her clawing at your hair and back, her body bouncing with each thrust, causing her tits to ripple, and of course, the tightness of her cunt.

“So close—I’m gonna cum—oh God I’m going to cum—” Nagyung cries, biting on her lower lip, moving her head around to find your lips again. She narrowly misses you, your lips by her chin, breathing on her neck.

“Cum for me, Nakko,” you tell her, keeping her breaths labored and erratic, your thrusts unrelenting—like you’ve ripped the brakes off your own hips. The grip around your waist is beginning to waver. “Just—cum all over me—cum for me, slut—”

That one word. That one damned word that she’d been avoiding this entire time—is what breaks her. She embraces it now. Forget about saving face; this is who Nagyung really is. A slut.

Because she cums. Hard. Her pussy quivers, her body tenses up, and her feet curl in the air as the orgasm washes over her. Tilting her head to the side, letting out this impassioned cry of pain and pleasure as you fill her to the hilt, filthy and heavenly in every single way. Fingers embedded deep into your skin, uncaring about all the marks she’s leaving on your body; a fair trade-off for what you’re leaving in her. 

She washes all over you, a fresh wave of slick and nectar that floods your cock, and as you push further on, you realize you’re not any better. If anything, you’re dangerously close to falling apart too.

“Gonna fucking cum—” you hiss, kissing her cheek repeatedly, pulling on her dark locks, going down on her neck again in a last-ditch effort to delay the inevitable. 

“Please—” she murmurs back, unable to resist you, unable to find a moment to catch her breath. “Don’t cum anywhere else—cum inside me—fill me up—please—”

With a tone like hers, it’s impossible to decline such an offer.

And mercifully, the end comes not long after. 

Pressing Nagyung deep into the mattress, your bodies melt as one. Burying yourself deep inside her, leaving an evident mark on her neck as your connection reaches its apex. You feel it—the violent, continuous pulse of your cock unloading shot after shot inside her needy cunt till she’s drained you of your worth. A cacophony of whispers fall against your ear, the same comment of ‘so warm—so much—’ in that order, until you’re both met with a calming silence, only accompanied by your steady breaths.

Can’t move, even as your cock withers in her warmth, insisting to stay. You’ve got each other in a warm embrace, unwilling to let go. You’re resting your head right beneath hers, kissing what little of her chest you can reach. Basking in the afterglow of sex, taking all the time in the world to let everything sink in. Even now, it’s all a blur; a complete disruption of the status quo.

Tilting her head down to glance at you, Nagyung quietly breathes, her lips melding into a little smile. “Well—this is—” before she goes blank, still overwhelmed over the events that have transpired.

“Yeah,” is all you can say, just as tongue tied, like you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

As she leans in to meet you for a deep, passionate kiss, you both hear a voice echo in the distance. ‘Cut!’ the director tells you, and you both lay down, drained and exhausted. His applause echoes around the room while he approaches you both, pleased with your efforts.

While he yaps on about something, you take a moment to hush something to Nagyung. “Christ. Nakko, you’re a natural.”

She smiles at your remark, caressing the back of your head. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

—————

“Jesus.” Nagyung looks at her phone in utter disbelief and shock. Across the table, Jiheon leans forward to take a peep herself. The title is irrelevant (but partially responsible); what matters is the view count. And to no one’s surprise, it’s a hit. Her debut ‘film’ has notched 14 million views in a little over 24 hours, a new site best, surpassing the previous record by a complete landslide. It isn’t even close; just like that, a new star is born.

“See?” Jiheon looks on, proud. “By the rate you’re going, you’ll surpass me and Chaeng in no time. And it’ll be rightfully deserved.”

“Sure, but—” Nagyung looks around the bar, trying to catch a glimpse of Chaeyoung, whom she hasn’t seen in a week. “I don’t wanna post as often as you do, you know? Make it a big deal whenever I do this. Also when my agency eventually finds out, I’m toast.

“Doesn’t matter. We all know it’s you,” Jiheon jests, raising her eyebrows playfully, much to her friend’s annoyance. By request, Nagyung had her face explicitly blurred out and cut whenever possible during sex scenes, even though she had taken up the daunting task herself instead of getting a body double. “But we’re all well protected, and this is all under the table, high security shit. So don’t worry. Besides, it pays well, if not better for a day’s work.”

Just then, Chaeyoung emerges from the restrooms, adjusting her jeans as she walks over to their table. Taking her seat besides Nagyung, she gives her a friendly kiss and embrace. “Congrats on the debut, Nakko. That was very hot, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Nagyung quietly smiles at her, tone respectful and gentle. “So—where’s he?”

Right as Chaeyoung is about to open her mouth, you come out of the bathroom, wiping off soiled tissue roll glued to your fingers and pants. Chaeyoung smirks while the other two silently giggle and suppress their laughter. It’s been a week since she’s had her hands all over you, and this is how you catch up with each other.

“So, what’s next?” Chaeyoung asks, addressing the elephant in the room. “I assume you’ll be going back to doing regular acting roles now that this is all behind you—”

“Mmm—I don’t think so.” Nagyung interrupts. “Still haven’t got a new role yet, officially, but I’ve been penciled in for one as a rich asshole student.”

“You sure that wasn’t for me?” Jiheon interjects, eliciting a hearty laugh out of everyone around the table.

“Good one. But that was a fun experience, honestly. All thanks to this guy over here,” Nagyung says, pointing her finger directly at you, drawing all the girls’ attention.

Tilting your head, you remark, “Just doing my job, that’s all there is to it.”

“Easiest job in the world, am I right?” Chaeyoung teases, smirking devilishly, like she’s ready to go another round. 

Trying to remain well-mannered and polished, you reply, “It wouldn’t be as easy if she wasn’t cooperative on set, so there’s that.”

“Right.” Chaeyoung looks down, tone sarcastic, her fingers tapping on the table. “Definitely didn’t practice the night before. Am sure.”

“Anyway,” Jiheon interjects, redirecting the conversation back to the topic at hand. “So—what will you do, Nakko?”

Nagyung gives herself a moment to think. Then, her eyes pop wide open, like an idea just hit her.

“How would you three like to break the internet one more time?”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! I hope I was able to deliver a worthwhile product; between IRL stuff dragging the whole month of February down, barely had time to truly focus on writing. And funnily enough, the three idols requested all happen to be part of the redebuting fromis lineup. I'm glad fromis will continue on in some capacity, but it's still a bummer that we lost out on Saerom, Seoyeon, and Jisun (which, considering how much they've been shelved and mismanaged since debut, is understandable). Thank you for reading!)

[splishfish]

︵‿︵‿୨♡Be Mine!♡୧‿︵‿︵

♡Summary: How MHA men make you theirs!

♡Characters: Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi, Keigo Takami, Aizawa Shouta

♡WC: 1.3k

♡A/N: Pure Fluff, Happy Valentines Day!!

❥ Tomura Shigaraki

If you’re not already Tomura’s lover, you’ll bet your ass he’s gonna spend all day getting there. The moment you wake up, you find a poorly written letter under your door, someone having slit it under the crack of under your door during the night. The letter had blunt yet cute advances written on it, your favorite being… ‘You’re so pretty, and out of everyone here, you’re the most useful one.’

It was very obvious who sent you the letter, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t find it adorable. Just imagining your boss staying up at night to write you a love letter had your cheeks hurting from the giddy smile on your face.

But it didn’t end there. Throughout the day, he had even become more vocal. Every passing glance or conversation, he tried to discreetly compliment you. Of course, it wasn’t discreet at all.

’You smell good today.’ ‘You did really good on that last mission…uh, you look good too.��� ‘Your hair is…pretty. Looks good…today.’

He was oh so sweet, his red eyes landing on you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, his eyes lidded with affection as he watched you interact with everyone. It was nearing night when he finally pulled you aside, scratching his neck as he stared at you, his expression far softer than you’ve ever seen before…

The chilly air pricked at your skin as Tomura dragged you out of the bar and away from everyone else, his excuse being ‘It’s regarding your last mission’...sure. It wasn’t until he turned around to face you, damaged nails idly scratching his neck as his lips pulled into a nervous pout. He grunted as he spoke bluntly.

“It’s Valentine's day.” “Well, it’s the end of Valentin-”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s Valentine's day…So be mine.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❥ Dabi

Dabi is far less shy about his advances, but he isn’t blunt about it either. Like Tomura, he’s gonna spend the whole day leading up to his confession, starting with handing you a mug of hot chocolate. It was sweet, a little too sweet in your opinion, but it was so easy to look past it the moment you saw his blue eyes glance in your direction for even the smallest semblance of approval.

He stays close to you throughout the day, sliding into the chair next to you at the bar and making idle chatter, plopping himself down on the empty space of the couch besides you and boldly throwing his arm around your shoulders. He even tugs you a little closer despite avoiding eye contact the whole time <3

Typically so confident and arrogant, it nearly gives you whiplash when he starts telling you such sweet compliments and comments with the most nervous and uneven tone. Really, it damn near makes you giggle whenever he starts, but you’re pretty sure he’d burn you into a crisp, no matter his feelings for you.

’You got pretty eyes…keep ‘em on me…?’ ‘You uh…you look good in that outfit…really good.’ ‘You’re cold…i’ll heat you up…if you uh…c’mere…?’

By the time Dabi even asks you to be his Valentine, it’s already past midnight, well past the appropriate time to confess, but it was never his goal to make you his Valentine. No, he wanted you to be his, entirely, and forever. That's why he forced you to stay up, drinks in hand as you both sat in a comfortable silence.

The amber glow of the bar created a warm air around you both, the silence making way for the soft breathing you two shared. His scarred hand held onto an old fashioned bourbon, swirling it as he stared ahead into the wall of drinks. A glass of your preferred drink was sitting idle next to your hand, your eyes lidded as a wave of exhaustion slowly overtook you. It was only when he spoke that you tried to force your eyes to open again.

“Hey.” “Hm?” “You’re all mine, y’know that?”

“Mhm…”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❥ Shouta Aizawa

Shouta was never one to be ‘sweet’. He’s blunt and apathetic, and he finds the concept of valentines day, to be blunt, stupid. Why should there be a day to show your love for someone, when you could do that any other day of the week? What makes Valentines day so special?

…is what he thought until he met you. Truly, if his past self had met himself now, he was sure he’d try to slap himself straight. Now, however, you had entered his life, ruining all his previous thoughts and theories. Now, he found himself with a handful of your favorite flowers wrapped so pretty, and a heart shaped box of chocolates in his other hand.

Shouta isn’t a shy man, he never has been. So when he makes his way to your apartment this beautiful Valentine's evening, he finds it hard to believe that as he balls his fist to knock on your door, he’s clenching his fist so tightly his knuckles have turned white. He could feel his palms begin to form beads of sweat, and his brows furrow as he takes a deep breath, eyes locking onto yours instantly as you opened the door.

’I got these for you…you told me you liked these flowers a while back…’ ‘I also got these chocolates…they uh…only sold them in these boxes..’ ‘Can I…come inside?’

And when he steps foot into your home, he finally relaxes, finding himself far more comfortable knowing that this was going well. He doesn’t even notice how late it is hours later, the sun slowly lowering past the horizon, causing a pink colored hue to grace the sky. He thinks to himself that now, now is the time.

You sat across from him at your dinner table, your face sore from smiling, his blunt nature far more humorous than intimidating. You don’t even notice the way he’s staring at you until he taps his index finger on the table three times, discreetly calling for your attention. It startles you when your eyes meet, a small smile gracing his typically blank face, and his eyes soft as he murmured.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“Huh..? Oh, thank you…” “Yeah…I’m glad I spent today with you.”

“Y-Yeah…me too!”

“We could do this more often, if you were mine.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❥ Keigo Takami

Keigo is bold, that's for sure. He’s not shy about pursuing you, especially during Valentine's day. Your day starts with a burrage of knocks on your door, rustling of feathers just barely audible through the wood. When you open the door, you’re greeted with a wide smile and golden eyes before suddenly a bouquet of flowers is shoved into your face.

And that's not all! No, Keigo takes Valentine's day very seriously. He gently shoves you further into your apartment before plopping you down onto your own couch, his wings fluffed up as sprinted back to your front door. When he comes back, he returns with chocolates, a stuffed toy of your favorite animal, and…a limited edition plushie of himself.

He hands it all to you, sitting down besides you before quickly slinging his arm over you, tugging you closer. Keigo’s not shy about his affection at all, but its no surprise to you. He was always affectionate, always so flirty and casual, you honestly didn’t think much of it until his words began to linger in your brain.

’You’re so pretty y’know? Why don’t you got a partner yet huh? You waitin’ for me?’ ‘Oh c’mon, you know you’re the only one I’m like this with right?’ ‘Hey, you’ll be my Valentines right? I’m already here after all!’

Maybe it was just you, but he felt much more clingy today. His hand holding yours tightly, his wing wrapping around you like a makeshift blanket, and his head leaning against yours affectionately. Now, what was weirder was the chirping he seemed to be letting out, small tweets of affection leaving him. Maybe it was all in your head, but that was quickly thrown out the window as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Wh-? What was that for?”

“What, I can't kiss my lover~?”

“LOVER??”

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[o-sunny-day]

INKTOBER-DAY 7: Love - song inspo: Love Love Love by The Mountain Goats

first of all- @forgettable-au fanart!

second of all. :D i’m bouta get so violent GOD THEY KILL ME SO MUCH okay rant time

THEY WERE JUST KIIIIDSSSUHHH I DEMAND a gacha youtube video made by a 12 year old where younger Sans and Wingdings react to the comics/present day them

Also- I SERIOUSLY doubt theres ever gonna actually be a scene like this in the comics for a lot of reasons BUT IF IT DIIIDDD, DUDES. Id never recover. id be done for. cast away. dead.

The main idea is, HEY! How. Would Gaster feel. About seeing SANS AGAIN. CAUSE I DON’T KNOW.

I DON’T KNOW HOW THINGS ENDED, I ASSUME BADLY- SO I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE VAGUEST IDEA, AND IT HURTS EVERY PART OF MY BRAIN AND SOUL AND HEART AND BRAIN AND

and also if Sans knew that THATS was what his “brother” is now… IS GASTER EVEN CONSIDERED HIS BROTHER ANYMORE?? I FEEL BAD FOR SANS RIGHT NOW HES GOT LIKE 3 BROTHERS AND 2 OF THEM ARE DEAD AND THE OTHER IS DEAD ONLY SOMETIMES AND ALSO THEY’RE ALL KINDA THE SAME PERSON also I miss sans in the comics :((

Theres a lots of ways this interaction could go down, and SO many ways it could be written poorly, SO IM NOT EVEN GONNA TRY TO SCRIPT THAT just go for the good ol 1 frame and let you fill in the blanks with your own angst ridden decrepit minds.

ALSO TOMORROWS PROMPT IS “REINCARNATION” AND I AM SCARED OF WHAT IM GONNA COOK BUT ITLL MOST DEFINITELY BE MORE FANART

okay im sad now, time for an extra silly unfinished comic I made a bit ago after wondering where their parents were

Moms asking for more money to fund her online gambling addiction

also- does Wingdings also have the googley eyes or is that just Papyrus?

[atlasmoonglade]

University AU Enemies to lovers

Joost Klein x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, PiV (protected), 18+ only

It's a Friday evening, soft music is playing through the speakers on Max's desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone is sitting in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on Max's bed, you and Olivia rest on Max's roommate’s bed. Red solo cups of beer are scattered amongst the room. It was calm and then the door swung open.

"Yooo!!" The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Max, who hops off his bed and heads towards the entrance.

“Joost!” Max exclaims, arms open wide to embrace his friend. “Where the hell you have been, man?”

"Consider my good time ruined" you mutter.

"Be nice" Olivia pats your knee.

"I am always nice. It's him who always starts shit. That di-"

"Hey, Y/N" Joost greets, taking a seat on the opposite bed. "Hey, Olivia."

"Hey, Joost" Olivia smiles. When you don't say anything, she nudges her elbow into your side.

You roll your eyes. "Hi, Joost"

"C'mon, that's all I get?" he teases. "What's wrong? You tired?"

"You have no idea" you say, finally looking at him. He is wearing a green long sleeve polo shirt and a hat, his blond messy hair sticking out the front it.

"Aw, is it past your bed time?"

"And the day is just starting for you? Let me guess, you just rolled out of bed."

"Oh, God" someone says "Here they go again."

"Max invited me here. I am more fun than someone who sits with a sour face all the time."

"Why are you talking to me? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You know" Max says. "if you two just - I'm gonna say it - fucked one good time. You would get over this rivalry already."

Your jaw drops, you look at Olivia, who just shrugs.

"Don't ever say that again, Max. Ew" you say disgusted at the thought.

"Ew?" Joost says offended. "You would be lucky if I even considered it."

Your jaw drops even lower. "You arrogant asshole" you sit down straight. "And this is who you all want around?"

"Stop it you two." someone says.

You can't see yourself ever getting along with him. This "rivalry" as your friends call it has started a long time ago. During the first week of introductions, he asked you to speak louder, which completely messed up your track of thought and earned some laughs from the auditory. So, after the first homework tasks, you called his presentation uninspiring and poorly structured. He took the last internship place, which he knew you wanted. So, you assigned to write the final paper with the professor, he was planning to ask. You showed his old embarrassing Youtube videos to a girl he wanted to ask out, which lead to her blocking his number. So, he fucked your roommate, while you were still in the room. He calls you short tack, princess, anything but your name, making fun of the fact that he is taller than you. List of insults you call him is too long.

"I'm gonna head out" you stand up to leave.

"I'll come with you" Olivia left with you.

You take your favorite seat in the auditorium, noise of chatting students around you as you take out your laptop. The professor walks in, prepared to start the lecture. The room falling into gradual silence, then the door opens and Joost walks in. You watch him take his place further up, he notices you looking and flips you off. You mock him and flip him off back.

At the end of the lecture professor announces "As you all know the final paper consists of a group presentation. I took liberty and divided you into pairs. I will also email you the list." he pulls up the list on the projector screen. You search for your name. As soon you see it, the color drains from your face.

No. No, this must be a mistake.

A groan is heard from the back of the auditorium. "Professor, I am not working with her." Joost says annoyance clear in his voice. "Switch me to be with someone else."

You are sat in disbelief that you got assigned to write the final paper with Joost.

"This is a final list." Professor looks at the whole class. "Drop this attitude and act like grownups."

As the lecture ends, you hurry to the professors desk. "Sir, this is not going to work. He is going to sabotage my results. Can I just switch with someone?" you look at him with pleading eyes. "Anyone else."

"I assigned pairs randomly, so everyone has equal chances. You have to learn to work with everyone." he says. "This is final."

Joost rushes past us towards the exit. You roll your eyes. This can't be happening.

You meet with Olivia and tell her everything. She laughs in shock at first, but then insists you'll be fine, that you are adults and both want this done one way or another. You knew it’d be a miracle if Joost and you made it through 15 minutes of working on something together. 

You and Joost still haven't talked about it, as if pushing it to the last minute would solve the problem. It is halloween night, you are getting ready for the party, your costume is inspired by Britney Spears in her music video Baby one more time. You finish braiding your hair into two braids, fix your skirt, wait for Olivia and you head out to the party.

Loud music, neon lights, you already had a couple of drinks, feeling a nice buzz. Someone from the group of your friends suggests to play Spin the bottle.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." Max puts his hand around you. "C'mon grumps, you joining us?"

You push his hand away. "I am" you make kissing face at him. "Always dreamt of kissing you" your voice full of sarcasm. You and Max burst out laughing.

Your usual group of friends and a few people you met at the party find space in the house to set up the game, music still loud around you. Olivia brings the bottle, as you are all sitting in a circle, ready to start.

"Is there still space for me?" a voice behind you asks. You turn around to see Joost, his face painted to resemble a skull, he is wearing a black suit, which doesn't properly fit him and a red tie.

"Sure, man! We've been looking for you." Max makes room for Joost to sit next to him, opposite of you.

"I was a little busy with this girl I met." he says as he sits down. "Glad I found you guys just in time." his eyes find yours and he smirks.

"We are so lucky" you say contemplating if you should just leave. Olivia looks at you shaking her head as if trying to tell you "don't start it again", you roll your eyes.

For the past 15 minutes there was a lot of cheering as people kiss. Some give just a little peck, others fully commit, tongue and all. Max is currently making out with a girl from an acting class. Her hands are in his hair as they deepen the kiss.

"Okay okay. I am afraid you will start fucking soon." someone says. "I am not drunk enough to see that."

Everyone laughs and they pull apart, going back to their places.

It is your turn to spin the bottle, you down your drink and reach for the bottle. You give it a good spin, watching it, already knowing you will just give a little peck to whoever it lands on. The bottle slows and comes to a stop. You follow the neck of the bottle, it points to Joost. Everyone erupts into loud cheering and whistling.

"Finally!" someone says.

You look at Joost. Universe must be punishing you for something.

"Bring it on, princess." he messes up his hair. "Hope it's not gonna be your first kiss." he licks his lips.

"Pass." you say with a smile and cross your arms against your chess.

"No, that's not how this works" Max chimes in. "No skipping your turn."

You groan and look at the ceiling hoping you can just die on the spot.

Joost stands up and offers you his hand. "We will go somewhere private. Won't give you all a show. It is her first time, has to be special."

"Oh, shut up" you say. "Let's just move on, everyone"

"Just trust me." he kneels down next to you. "Can you do that for once?" he says looking into your eyes.

You stand up without his help and head towards the first room you see, you can hear his footsteps behind you.

You walk in and close the door behind you as he walks towards the window.

"I am not kissing you." you say.

"I wasn't planning on that" he replies and opens the window, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, puts one in between his lips and reaches for a lighter.

"You should quit that." you point at the cigarette in between his fingers.

He chuckles and takes a drag of a cigarette as you stand in silence.

"About that presentation.. " you start.

"I emailed the head of the department asking to let us switch partners." he looks down at his shoes. "He said no"

You look at him with your eyes wide.

"You would hate to work with me that much?" you ask shocked he went that far.

"I was doing it for the both of us. You know it would be a disaster. But since we are stuck together, promise me you won't fuck this up for us." he lifts his head up to look at you.

All of your anger returns. You can't believe you were about to offer him to put your differences behind you.

"Fuck you, Joost. Why do you think I would be the one to fuck this up? You are the unreliable one. Always gone somewhere doing fuckall with whoever." your hands ball into fists. "Fuck you" you say again and storm out of the room.

You leave the party without saying bye to anyone, you just need to go back to your room to calm down.

The street you walk back to the dorm is silent, lit up only by sporadic streetlights. It's late enough that everyone is already asleep or partying. Your head clears from the alcohol. You are deep in your thoughts, and suddenly you hear fast approaching footsteps behind you. You don't have enough time to realise what is happening, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. A flight or fight response kicks in and you scream, turn around and throw a punch, not risking waisting time to think about it.

Your fist connects with something.

"Ouch. You fucking bitch" you open your eyes to see Joost holding his cheek. It's not until you smell a familiar scent, cigarettes with cologne, your panic subsides a little. You think of how stupid your argument over the presentation was. The fear of being robbed or worse, has made you realise that Joost is not the enemy and never has been. Your hands start to shake and you burst into tears.

And then you hug him, your arms tight around his middle, he tenses but then wraps an arm around you, feeling you tremble.

"Hey, hey" his voice getting soft. "What's wrong with you" his other hand is still holding his cheek.

"I thought you were a murderer." you let go of him, still shaking.

"I called your name, you didn't hear?"

"No" you say "What are you doing here anyway?"

"No one knew where you disappeared to. I went looking for you." he says letting go of his cheek. The paint of a skull on his face has rubbed off from sweat throughout the night and you can see hints of red from where you hit. You start to feel sorry and embarrassed that you reacted that way. You reach out to him, but drop your hand before it reaches to touch his cheek.

"Let's not tell anyone about this." he suggests. "We can't give them the satisfaction of knowing you hit me"

It draws a laugh out of you and it makes him grin.

"It's the least I can do. I really am sorry, Joost."

"You are nuts for reacting like this...but I really didn't mean to scare you." he says. "Let me walk you home."

You walk together in silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier at the party." he says suddenly. "I realise I was kind of an asshole"

"Kind of?"

"Ok, yeah, I overreacted. I guess what i'm trying to say is.. Let's just do that presentation and not kill each other. I already felt your knuckles on my face, don't want that again"

You look at him, seeing the red mark again. "My room. 7pm tomorrow. Let's at least start it"

Olivia left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into comfortable pants and a cropped sweater. You sit at your desk, and wait. You’d told Joost to come at 7. 

There is a knock at 7:14.

"Come in" you say slight annoyance in your voice.

"I'm sorry, short stack"

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna come" you turn in your chair to face him.

"I'm here now" he says taking a seat next to you, smell of cigarettes filling the space.

"I started writing a rough plan." you show him what you wrote on your laptop.

After 30 minutes of you two working out an agenda for the presentation, Joost leans back on his chair. "Wow"

It makes you look at him. "What?"

"Look at us. Not arguing"

"It's only been like half an hour" you look at your watch. "The night is young"

Maybe he has brain damage from the punch, but he can’t lie to himself, that night after the party shifted things. Seeing you so terrified caused a change in him. Feeling your arms around him, clinging to him and trembling so hard, softened him towards you.

He catches himself thinking you look so good all wrapped up in your shared work. He hooks his foot around the leg of your chair and pushes you closer to him.

"What are you doing?" you push yourself back.

"Why are you so far away from me?"

"I am not. I am an appropriate distance from you." you look at him as if he is crazy.

He pushes you closer again and leans in. He acts on an instinct, closes the distance between you and crashes his lips against yours. You press your hands against his chest and push away.

"What the hell was that?" you ask touching your lips.

He is just as speechless as you are. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so pretty. Has he always been that pretty? 

You grab onto the hem of his shirt and pull him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Joost's hands grip your waist and he urges you to straddle him. Without breaking the kiss you put your legs on each side of his and sit on top of his thighs. He grips your hair and deepens the kiss, earning a moan from you, which makes him push up into your clothed core. You feel him hardening.

Joosts hands slide down to your thighs, he scoops you up in his arms, standing up and lifting you up with him. Your legs are wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supports your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. He carries you over to the bed, dropping you on top of the mattress. He looks down at you with a grin.

"These fuckers were right." he laughs. "We needed this" he leans back to you, his hands sneaking beneath your sweater, pushing it up until your bra is revealed. He looks into your eyes. "Is this okay?"

"Yes" you moan, "Please".

His pushes your bra down, enough to reveal your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you grip onto his hair. He can't stop himself from smiling. He sucks harder, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise.

You rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Joost noticed this and proceeded to stick his hand down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirks at how soaked you were already and rubs your clit as he licks a trail up to your neck. You tighten your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. His cock is pressed against the zipper of his jeans, getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your clit, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. 

"Do you want to do this?" he looks at you.

"Yes." you reply with no hesitation. "Condoms are in the drawer."

He gets off the bed, finds the pack of condoms, tears the foil with his teeth, and watches you as he rolls the condom on himself. You’re absolutely gorgeous, better than he could have ever imagined.

"How do you want me, princess?” The nickname finally getting a new meaning.

"However you want it.”

"We are doing acrobatics then"

It startles a laugh out of you, and Joost thinks he might love that—the way he makes you laugh.

He takes off your pants together with the underwear, bends your leg, pushes it away from him, closer to you, which reveals your slick core to him.

“Gotta tell me how you want me, and fucking quick.” he groans, just the view of you makes him do mathematics in his head to stop from cumming on the spot.

"Missionary works me." you prop yourself on your elbows.

So he climbs onto you. He kneels between your legs, then pushes them apart obscenely wide. You stay propped up on your elbows, watching him, but when he settles between your thighs, you fall back against your pillow.

“Good?” he asks.

"You haven’t done much,” you point out. 

"Smart-ass.” He reaches down and grasps his cock at the base, and drags the tip through your folds. He coats himself in your arousal, feels the heat of your pussy even through the latex, then notches himself at your entrance. He looks down and pushes into you. He goes slow but steady, and he hears a small gasp fall from your lips.

He remembers the way you clung to him that night, and he wants to capture that feeling again.

He picks up a steady pace, holding your legs apart, kissing your neck. One of his hands makes its way to your clit again, you arch your back as he starts to draw circles around it.

He feels you clench around him. "Joost. I'm so close" you moan and he watches you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he hides his face in your neck, and releases himself into the condom.

You want to remember this forever. Him panting, moaning in your ear. He taps the side of your thigh, pulls out and throws out the condom. You watch him pull up his jeans and sit down at the desk again.

"Let's do this thing"

You and Joost are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria. Max and Olivia join you.

"Look, both are still alive!" Max jokes.

"How did it go yesterday?" Olivia asks looking between the two of you.

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Wait." Max looks at you, then at Joost. "Did you two...?"

"No way!" Olivia gasps.

"Ok, shut up guys." Joost says

"You owe me 20 bucks" Max says to Olivia.

"Fuck!" Olivia exclaims

"You bet on us?"

"Last year!" Max takes the money from Olivia.

[sitp-recs]

hi liv!!! what are your favorite underrated 8th year fics? any hidden gems you'd recommend?

Hi anon, always! I was gonna start off by saying that I haven’t read 8th year much, but this list is evidence to the contrary so maybe I should stop saying that 😂 here are some recs for you, I’ll also highlight two personal favourites: Matched Set by astolat and Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch, while not exactly underrated I don’t see them recced often enough. Enjoy!!!

Snug by @moonflower-rose (E, 6k)

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

The Pensieve Project by curiouslyfic (T, 7k)

Of the 116 Hogwarts students who took part in the final battle, only five are officially invited to the Ministry's first annual memorial. For everyone else, there's the Pensieve Project.

Champion by @shealwaysreads (T, 7k)

Harry thought his Eighth Year would be simple and easy. And it sort of is, though not in the ways he expected.

What Country, Friends, Is This? by khalulu (M, 8k)

When Harry and Draco are paired up for a nebulous “capstone project” in 8th year, Draco suggests they use it as an opportunity to take a free Grand Tour of Europe. Harry isn’t interested in being grand, and they soon veer off the beaten path.

Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

swallow your words by icarusinflight (E, 9k)

The truth is, not many things are known about the magic that is behind soulmarks. They'll turn up when they want and not before.

Heliomancy by Leela (E, 10k)

A teasing mirror that came from Grimmauld Place and the emphasis on inter-house relations during his eighth year at Hogwarts change everything for Harry.

warmest part of the winter by warmfoothills (T, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Find The Balance by lauren3210, Obliviate_Amores (M, 15k)

After Harry gives Draco his wand and goes back to using his own, they both start having trouble making them work. Finding out why is a lot simpler than fixing the problem.

Equally Cursed and Blessed by @moonflower-rose (E, 18k)

Harry's back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he's sure there'll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there'll be a few.

Edificabo by @doubleappled (E, 18k)

Numb and exhausted after the war, Harry returns to the only real home he’s ever known. Hogwarts needs help, too.

Silver Linings by @sorrybutblog (M, 21k)

Or: Harry's gone back for eighth year at Hogwarts and nothing is quite the same, save his inability to leave Draco alone. But then he finds that Draco isn't what he expected either, as they spend the month of December stuck in each other's orbit.

Colloquy by @dracoladon, @lazywonderlvnd (E, 30k)

Harry's not gay, Malfoy just smells good.

On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (E, 32k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (M, 35k)

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup.

Inside Your Mind by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 36k)

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

Seeker, Chaser, Keeper by VivacissimoVoce (M, 59k)

Rumor has it that a wealthy investor is starting up a brand new professional Quidditch team and he’s looking for players. Harry and Draco both want to make the team, but there can be only one Seeker. Will competing for the position bring them closer or drive them further apart?

Inertia by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 83k)

It’s three months after the war. Harry has already mucked up all his plans. Draco is no longer the prince of Slytherin house. And they sure as hell didn’t both mean to go back to Hogwarts at the same time. Cue snarking, long conversations…and unexpected snogging.

Reparo by amalin (E, 85k)

Voldemort's final defeat does not mean Harry Potter's troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it.

Bonus: Harry/Draco/Theo 😌

just call this what it is by queens_crown (M, 27k)

Upon returning to Hogwarts after the war, Harry can't sleep. He's not the only one.

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter eight

synopsis: as you five break into the castle grounds, more banter ensues between you and phosphorus. and mahalat has a little change of heart.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, mahalat is better

a/n: I AM SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG. i've gone through a lot with my family this past month but your patience was very much appreciated

"Oh, Jesus," Nina winced, expression twisting into one of disgust as she stepped over the mangled remains of the security guard. "What did he ever do to you?"

With a sly grin, Phosphorus nudged you, nodding to the poor bastard on the floor.

"You gettin' the munchies?"

"Fuck you."

"C'mon! Not even a little nibble?" he chuckled, gaze flicking down to your mouth, watching your lips purse with your familiar scowl. "No sense in lettin' those nice razors go to waste."

"I'm about to waste 'em on your neck in a minute," you scoffed, brows furrowing from your spot leaning against the wall.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes, opting to ignoring him and his antics.

"You saw the hat, right?" the Bride pressed forward, approaching the security cameras.

"Why are we doing this again?" Nina groaned, tightly hugging herself.

"You know why."

"But what if we're wrong? What if we're killing all of these people... what if we kill the princess... for no reason?"

"Then... c'est la vie?" Phosphorus shrugged, picking up a half-way decent cigar from an ashtray and using his power to set it alight. "There are billions of humans in the world. Who will notice a few less? Right, Weas?"

Everyone turned to the Weasel, who simply sat there with a dead-eyed stare.

"See? He doesn't care."

"He doesn't even know what you're saying!"

"Nina, Waller believes the princess is gonna bring about the end of the world as we know it. She believes her source is credible," the Bride chimed, brows furrowed as she turned her gaze from the monitors. "Isn't any risk worth stopping that?"

"I don't know... I guess. What are you doing?"

"Trying to find a path into the castle that isn't swimming with guards."

"These are the feeds from the past few days," Phosphorus chimed, practiced hands typing away on the keyboard. "Maybe they'll show us another way in... What the hell is that?"

Pulling yourself off the wall, you joined the others as they peered over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a familiar monster walking next to the princess.

'Clayface...'

The woman-hating, sex-obsessed mud man, who was one of Batman's more tenured foes.

You didn't know him personally; but you weren't a true Gothamite if you didn't make a point to study and memorize the calling cards of all the big-name villains.

You saw a bunch of question marks on the walls when you entered your apartment? Run away.

You saw a bunch of plants growing in the middle of the city? Run away.

You saw anything even remotely resembling a clown and/or uncontrollable laughter? Run away.

It all became routine—like covering your car with a tarp or triple-dead-bolting your door.

"Seems like we're not the princess' only monstrous visitors..." Nina noted.

"My love!" a random, huge man exclaimed from the window, his face stitched-up and greenish just like the Bride's. "The princess—!"

Without hesitation, she shot him four times in the chest, sending him falling down the tower with a painful yell.

"Paramour of yours?" Phosphorus chimed, poorly.

"Oh, can it, Ghost Rider."

"We gotta go before guards start swarmin' this place," you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd be surprised if someone didn't hear all that."

"Let's head to the wall at the back of the garden. That seems to be the least protected."

Rushing out the window, the Bride, Nina, and Weasel leapt, leaving you and Phosphorus behind in the tower.

"Ladies first," he insisted, mockingly, motioning for you to move past.

But, instead, you took a harsh step forward, shoving him out the window with a grin.

He let out a loud yelp, landing on the grass below with a harsh thunk.

"Fucking shit!" he cursed, harshly. "That was my goddamn rib!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, princess," you teased, an amused smirk stretching across your lips as you sat on the ledge.

"Fuck off!"

The Bride whipped around, turning to you both with an annoyed expression as Phosphorus pulled himself off the ground, you landing right next to him.

"So help me God, I will put a bullet through both your skulls if you don't shut the fuck up."

Weasel whimpered as the five you sat in the bushes, the princess having just emerged from her castle, now standing on a diving ledge in nothing but her bathing suit.

"No!" Nina whisper-yelled as he leaped forward, quickly tackling him down to the ground before he could call the attention of the guards.

"What's he doing?" the Bride asked, confused.

"He's excited to see her. Remember, she played fetch with him for, like, hours," Nina reminded.

"Fuck me," you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Should we put him down?" Phosphorus asked, plainly.

"No!" all three of you denied in unison.

"Geez! Calm down. Just brainstorming," he threw his hands up, defensively.

"Yeah, you need a brain for that," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"The hell's got your panties in a twist today?"

"I'm not exactly gung-ho for killing a defenseless young woman. Y'know? Like a normal fucking person?"

"I wouldn't exactly call all of this defenseless..."

"Between the five of us, we could easily take out every one of these guards and you know it."

"Since when do you have a bleeding heart? You were all for taking a bite out of the witch."

"Since now, asshole. And that was against my will."

"The skeleton is right, (y/n)," Mahalat chimed from within your mind. "I grow hungry."

"Don't you start your shit," you spat, sharply.

"Shh. Be good, Weasel," Nina attempted to sooth, cooing to and petting the poor thing as he whimpered and whined for Ilana. "Be good."

Worried, her gaze flicked up to the Bride.

"How the heck are we going to get to the princess with all these guards?"

Suddenly, it all clicked, the three of you turning to the girl with a knowing look.

"What?"

"It needs to be you, Nina," the Bride stated.

"Me?!"

"Yes, you... you need to kill the princess."

"I need to kill the princess?!"

"The only way to get to her is under the water," the Bride pointed, Nina turned to watch Ilana front crawl across the lake.

"No fucking way. Uh-uh."

Weasel began to whimper louder, the sound starting to annoy Phosphorus.

"Fruit fruit, Sit! Shut up!" he harshly whispered, holding up his hand as a threat before joining in on the conversation. "The Bride is right. Wait until she dips under. Then do it."

"Do what?"

"Stab her," the Bride asnwered.

"Stab her?!"

"Yep. Then come straight back, and we'll go out the way we came."

"No, no. I don't know how to kill someone."

Smoothly, the Bride pulled a large dagger from her holster, demonstrating.

"You shove the blade into her belly and twist," she stated, handing it off. "The water is yours. Home field advantage. She won't even see you coming."

"Bride, I don't—"

"You heard Waller! Killing her is the only way to save the world," Phosphorus stated.

"At the end of the day, Nina, that's just another human out there in the pond," the Bride continued. "But you're a monster like us."

"You said I wasn't a monster."

"I was lying 'cause I'm a bitch," she shrugged, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder with a grin. "You're the biggest freak of us all."

"Not bigger than you," you whispered to Phosphorus, whose mouth stretched in an indiscernible grin.

"I love it when you talk dirty, sugar tits," he quietly cooed, resting his hand on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your core.

"Pervert," you spat, slapping it away.

He let out a quiet chuckle, before focusing on the matter at hand, turning to Nina.

"I know you can do it, kid."

Nodding, Nina's expression hardened, his vote of confidence pushing her to leave the bushes, discreetly sliding into the water.

Everyone paused for a moment, watching her go, before Phosphorus pipped up with yet another comment.

"Did I sound like I gave a shit?"

You pinched his arm, sending him a sharp glare.

"Asshole..."

"(y/n)."

In an instant, you were pulled into the recesses of your mind, your consciousness leaving the world behind as you were suddenly presented in front of an iron throne.

This had never happened before...

'Oh, shit.'

Before you sat Mahalat, in her true, physical form, her cheek smushing against her fist as her elbow propped up on the armrest.

No longer was she just a menacing voice.

No longer was she a figure in your nightmares.

No longer was she the spirit with your face and body.

But now... her own person.

She looked relatively young, about in her early-thirties to forties, though you knew she was far, far older.

Her skin was red, just like yours, with horns and a tail all the same, but even her features were somewhat similar to yours in a way.

If you were being honest, she looked like she could've been your older sister.

"Y'know what?" you scoffed, annoyed. "It's about time you and I have a little chat... I've had enough of this possession bit."

Amused, her brow cocked, silently telling you to continue.

"I've come to terms with the cards I've been dealt with. I was born a demon, and I was born possessed. There's nothing I can do about that," you started, firmly, keeping strong eye-contact with the demon. "And if I'm being honest... I have no problem with you living in my body."

You stopped quickly, gaze turning sharp.

"But if this is for the real long run, then we've gotta have some ground rules... For instance, you cannot just go around eating anybody that you want."

"I cannot?" her brow raised further, an annoyed expression sliding onto her face.

"No, you cannot," you sighed, incredulously, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Alright, we need to back it up a bit. There are good people in this world, alright? Like Batman... and then there are bad people. And I know you've been around here long enough to tell the difference."

She huffed out her nose, turning away.

The accusation was true... but she never thought you knew that.

"The deal is you will only ever be allowed to touch, harm, hurt, or possibly eat very, very bad people. But never, ever good people. Alright?"

"...Fine."

"Oh, come on, you—! Wait... fine?" you realized halfway through your rebuttal.

"Yes," she grumbled, reluctantly. "With this Task Force M, they allow us freedom. They do not pump us full of poisons to keep us docile. Here, I am free... enough, I suppose."

You raised a brow, suspicious, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Why the sudden change of heart? Yesterday, you were perfectly fine with cremating an entire battalion of men—"

"That was before I gave our predicament some thought," she cut you off, sharply.

You clammed up, taken aback by her sudden sharpness.

"Because of me, the healers of Arkham have labeled you as psychotic, yes? If they continue to do so we will not be allowed back out again."

Standing from her throne, she flew down to you, holding out her hand to shake.

"These rules guarantee that my hunger will be sated, and your freedom granted. So until we are able to break free from the shackles of this... Amanda Waller, I will abide by them."

Pausing a moment, you glanced at her hand.

While you were naturally suspicious of her compliance, you knew it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

If she insisted, who were you to deny?

"Then it's a deal."

The moment you touched her hand, you were yanked back to reality.

But when you awoke... you were met with utter chaos.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hazbin men doing makeup with reader. Doing eachothers makeup !!!

Lucifer

He loves it when you do his makeup. Your creativity is so impressive to him, and it's like he is your own little art canvas. This is something he prides himself on.

He would learn what you do step by step, but things relate poorly in his mind, so he calls everything the wrong terms. Nothing is funnier than him telling others that you beat his face, though.

He eventually picks up on things like skincare and primers, so he starts using those on his own, even if you aren't doing his makeup that day.

When you ask if he wants to take a stab at your makeup, he declines at first. He is terrified of messing up and you being mad at him.

As you offer and ask, he will slowly do one or two things. Start off small, like applying your foundation or primers. Then, move up to something more prominent, like lipstick and eyeliners.

He finds it an excellent bonding activity, like when you two preen his feathers.

Alastor

He does not want your makeup touching his face; his one compact of blackish-red eyeshadow and eyeliner is plenty.

However, your pleading face is adorable and makes him weak, more than he cares to admit. So he will eventually cave in to let you do his routine with him.

Eventually, he will let you get away with sneaking in your own routines and items, like sunscreen, primers, and concealer. He must admit you do a swell job.

When you offer to let him do your face, he is apprehensive. Not only does he not want to mess up, but you have so many steps. He just does the two and is done.

He will learn for you, though, and personally really enjoys putting your mascara on. Gives him an excuse to look at your pretty eyes from up above.

He enjoys the domestication of it all, but please don't talk about it outside of your shared room or else.

Angel Dust

He asked you to do his makeup in the first place. He loves the idea of you two getting dolled up together.

He even went out of his way to buy high-end makeup for you that the makeup artists at the studio use.

He wants you two to be stunning and ready to catch anyone's eyes, only to break hearts when they realize you are together.

He loves to do your makeup more, though, because you have such a cute face, and being up close and personal makes him really happy.

He teaches you how to cover dark circles and bruises; he hopes the only bruises you will ever get are from him marking you, but if that's not the case, he wants you to be prepared.

This is his favorite activity, especially if there is gossip or drama he wants to air with you.

Husk

He isn't really a fan, but he will bend over backward to see you happy, so he will cave in eventually.

Expect complaints, but mostly, he will just be silently watching you do your best work. It always surprises him how you have such a keen eye for color and style.

He likes to make stinky comments like, 'This isn't gonna change this ugly mug doll,' you just need to swat those nasty comments away with your own sweet, lovely comments.

When you offer him to try on you, he is adamant that he will just mess it up and enjoys watching you do your makeup far more than when he is doing it.

If he ever does get brave enough to help you with your makeup, he will mostly do your lipstick; he likes coloring in your lips and kissing you to 'blot the excess love.'

He enjoys watching you do this; it's ASMR for him. However, don't expect him to be super giddy about himself being the canvas.

Vox

Personally, I see Vox as the least okay with you doing makeup on him for a few reasons. He is mainly set in his ways from when he died, but he is also a screen and thinks it's a waste to put your hard-earned money on his face.

He will let you do it on rare occasions when you are really sad and need a pick-me-up, though. Yet he openly states he will buy you new makeup. It's wasted on him.

He uses you doing his makeup as an excuse for you to sit on his lap since he can hold you close.

If you ask him to do your makeup, he obliges just cause he knows it upsets you when he turns you down on doing makeup.

His favorite part is the foundation cause he likes that your beauty blenders come in many fun shapes and colors.

It's a few and far between passions, but when you can get him to commit to helping you with makeup, he is a trooper and does it all for you.

Adam

He is the most secretive about how he really wants to do your makeup, and if that means you doing his fine, so be it.

He watches you like a cat does string when you are doing your entire face.

He thinks it is astonishing that you can be a million different people depending on how you do the makeup that day.

He will probably ask you to do silly makeup on him, like giving him fuller facial hair or using gold eyeshadow and nothing else.

He is so goofy about doing your makeup that he does not try to follow your guidelines at all. He just likes having fun. Sometimes, though, he does make a banger color combination.

This is a fun secret activity you two do in the privacy of his office or home, something to keep you two close and bonded even in uncertain times.

[orionhelluvaranting]

My Predictions for Helluva Boss

Alright, guys, not gonna lie... I'm tired from HB! Protagonist-centered morality, favoritism, lack of stakes, Stolass' endless woobification, etc... It has become too much for me. Thus I've gave up any hopes for the writing improvement and refused to watch the show in the long run.

But!

This won't stop me from analysing the previous episodes that I've already watched. Furthermore, I wanna make a few predictions about what's going to happen in the next two seasons (unless those will be cancelled). Perhaps I'll repeat some of the points other critics had already made. So I'm sorry in advance for this, mates.

Now careful, there's a HUGE list under the cut! 🔮

⋆˙˖⟡°˖⟡˙ {Predictions} ˙⟡˖°⟡˖˙⋆

None of the main cast is dead. The plot armor is too strong. Especially for Stolass. I mean, do you genuinely believe that Viv would kill her precious sad bean?! Bitch, please! 🤗

All/most of the antagonists are dead. The only exception I can think about is Cherubs. They're just too unthreatening to bother about. Prolly the D.H.O.R.K.S are dead but reborn in the Hell and Idk if that counts or not 💀⚰️

If the rumors about one of the Deadly Sins' upcoming death are true then it's going to be Mammon. No other options 💸 (Btw I saw a fan theory about Blitzø killing Mammon and taking his place... Well, considering how poorly Viv handles the class problem I wouldn't be surprised if that came true)

F!zzarozz!e get married (S3) 💞 - 100% probability

Stol!tzø get married (S4, finale) 💞 - 100% probability

M&M became parents. Honestly I thought they'll save it for the end but after Sinsmas... Yeah. Anyway the truth about Millie's pregnancy is revealed (nearly to the middle of S3), she gives a birth for pro-lifers' delight and takes maternity leave becoming a background character. The child prolly is a boy and gets a better development than his mother. Apparently he's named Blitzø Junior or smth like that 👨‍👩‍👧

F!zzarozz!e & Stol!tzø double date💕

Moxxie's insecurity issue is showed at least once at the season. Now he isn't sure about himself being a good father/protector/role model for his son 💪

Loona shows her human disguise at least once at the season. Doesn't really matter if there's no logical reason for that 🐺➡️👩

More sappy sad ballads performed by Stolass 🎵

I.M.P. continue murdering people and not giving a fuck about morality (Sinsmas was the only act of mercy) OR they leave the business and fully go for Stol!tz soap opera (not like they haven't done that already- but hey! there's always room for degradation, right?) 📉

Stolass succeeds at the dime novels writing 📜✍️

Carnal hyper-sensual coitus between Stolass and Blitzø appears on-screen. Correct me if I'm wrong but I remember Viv expressed her desire to animate an intimacy act, so I have zero doubts these two are involved. It can't be anyone but them 🤢

Octavia forgives Stolass the moment she finds out about Stella's abusive nature. And since Stella's confirmed as a "stupid cow" the truth's revealed in the dumbest way possible. I wouldn't be surprised if Stella spilled the beans by herself 🤦‍♀️

Blitzø boosts his connection with Stolass the moment he finds out about Stella's abusive nature. After all we've got a sex out of pity, so why wouldn't we got a love out of pity as well? 🤡

Possibly Striker/Stella had been a thing at a certain time. Why? Because ✨fanservice✨ of course! And yes, it's going to be as dull, flat and out of nowhere as Cherr!snake. Or maybe worse 🙁

Stella's backstory turns out like the "she was born evil so don't you dare to sympathise with her" full edition. There is no valid motivation, no intriguing conflicts, no nuances - none of that. There is only Stolass' woobification arc. So this backstory isn't about Stella. It's revolved mainly around Stolass, maybe around Andrealphus or Vassago at the least. Granted that Stella ever had a chance to receive a decent backstory for herself Vivienne would've thrown it away right in the next episode without mentioning it ever again 😭

Actually Mammon can't play the guitar 🎸 He's just too dumb and untalented for this (according to Vivienne). Don't expect an epic villain song from him. I'd be happy to be wrong about this one but my hopes are dead

More fatphobic jokes toward Mammon 👎

Stolass' in drag. Just no comments 💄👠

Love triangle between Stolass, Blitzø and Vassago. At one point, Stolass leaves Blitzø because he doesn't satisfy his wet dreams well enough. Vassago and Stolass have complete mutual understanding and the idyll but Stolass feels smth isn't right. Smth is missing, smth like… Meanwhile Blitzø suffers and seeks Stolass' mercy. Eventually Stolass comes back to Blitzø because 💖 ~ they belong together ~ 💖

Perhaps after the breakup between Stolass and Vassago the latter will get together with Andrealphus 💘

Millie & Moxxie or Fizz & Ozzie giving romantic advices to Blitzø / helping him improve the relationship with Stolass 💝

Barbie Wire forgives Blitzø in her next appearance and then moves away from the plot without a trace 💨

Sapphic bait 💗 Verosika/Barbie Wire? Barbie Wire/Sallie May? Sallie May/Verosika? All of them together? I don't know! But I do know Viv would rather escape from being accused of wlw underrepresentation. Since she has promised S3 is going to be "a queer roller coaster" she would need to dilute her sausage party a bit. And of course the lesbian ship (whichever it would be) is poorly developed.

New unnecessary characters for celebrity VA's ⭐

Stolass was kidnapped... again?! Yes, Striker abducted him before but... Why wouldn't do this one more time? After all the stans love presenting Viv's auto-plagiarism as meaningful "symbolic parallels". Besides kidnapping is one of the most beloved tropes in fanfiction. And HB is an animated fanfic for sure ⛓

More shitty dads/exes? Because Viv adores reusing the same tropes over and over again 💩

"Positive" characters keep being justified and woobified infinitely 😇 while villains are losing all their charisma and braincells from episode to episode 😈

Nobody will ever remember that Stolass harassed Blitzø 🙈

Nobody will ever remember that Ozzie allows succubi to enter the mortal realm and seduce humans by hypnotic songs (which doesn't sound pro-consent, does it, Mr. Lust-Is-Not-About-Force?) 🙉

Nobody will ever remember that Queen Bee runs shelters (which are essentially slave trade hellholes) in terrible conditions 🙊

Stolass' "depression" is brought up occasionally as a reason to justify and pity him. Stolass' immediately healed by Stella's death. Right after that the depression has disappeared completely. Therapy sessions aren't required. Even if the therapy is shown then only as a lame joke 🌧

Stolass brings his powers back because he's out... for LOOOOoOHoOOOHoOOVE!!! 💓💃🏻

Stolass gets everything he ever wanted without any efforts and self-improvement. Because he's good enough already and everyone who disagree is just stupid and mean 🏆

Aaaaaaaand that's all! My forecast: at least 80% of these predictions will come true one way or another. And what do you think? Maybe you have your own ideas? Please share those in the comments/reblogs! It'd be cool if someone made a bingo based on all this. It definitely wouldn't be me because today I'm identifying myself as a lazy ass. Bye-bye! 👋😊

[genericpuff]

Dyou ever feel disappointed (?) that there aren't more eyes on LR? I know you keep it on the DL to avoid Rachel's wrath but I 100% know the only reason it's not more popular is that not enough people know about it. You put in a lot of work that we all really love but I know the notes count could be higher. Is this something you care about? We can try to spread it more if so, but going back to the Rachel/not intruding on LO spaces point...

Ouu so that's a good question, but honestly... nah, not really. And I'm not even saying that to be "humble" or whatever, it's literally just... what y'all are seeing in Rekindled is, to me, a step away from my usual patterns and habits that I've been dealing with for years now. It's forced me out of my comfort zones, but most importantly, it's got me creating purely for the fun of it, for the self-indulgence, without any of the usual pressures I've forced upon myself in the past for the work I do to "mean something" or for it to "be successful". It's not just the tip of a massive iceberg, it's practically a whole ass detour. Rekindled is like one of those road trip movies where the reluctant stickler gets strung along by the aloof weirdos, driven off the beaten path, and winds up realizing by the end of the crazy journey that it was worth taking the long way home.

That's not to say making Rekindled doesn't come with its own unique pressures or that I don't take it seriously, but they're different from the pressures I've dealt with in the past and the nature of Rekindled being what it is means... I don't have to take it as seriously as the car crash that was my original work prior to it? 💀😆 (which I already took way more seriously than what was healthy for me, in hindsight). Like I can take it seriously as a creative project that I wanna see through, especially where it's meant to "fix" stuff that felt misguided / done poorly in LO, but because it's effectively fanfiction, I can separate it from the expectations that came from my original work. It can never pay my bills, so I don't have to worry about it doing so. It shouldn't be the only thing I'm ever known for, so I don't need it to amount to my legacy.

A good example of what I mean are what you brought up - the notes count. Thing is, compared to social media platforms like Instagram and Facebook and even Youtube, posting exclusively to Tumblr over the past couple years has been great for my mental health. Unlike those other platforms, my follower count isn't on full display to both myself and others. There's no real bearing on notes beyond clout, and that clout only exists within Tumblr - going "viral" on this hellsite doesn't amount to the same things as going viral on a platform like Twitter, for the most part my work still stays within its respective audience where it's meant to be and even if I do have an episode "take off" in notes... it doesn't really matter? Like to me there's virtually no difference between a post that has 300 notes and a post that has 30,000 notes. And I actually do have a couple posts that have "taken off" like that. It's neat but it's also like... okay, life goes on. Except now I'm gonna keep getting notifications about that one post forever LMAO

Granted, it would be different if the posts were actually intended to get as many eyes on it as possible - like if they were posts meant to generate income in some way through advertising Patreon, Ko-Fi, merch shops, etc. - but it's rare that I ever do that because obviously with Rekindled being what it is, I can't really profit off it anyways.

And that's okay! I've spent enough years worrying over the online "gains" and bearing the weight of my work's responsibility to my livelihood on my shoulders.

Rekindled is fun. Even when it's stressful, when an episode goes up late or when I'm still finding myself procrastinating, it's fun. It's neat that it now has a TV Tropes page and that there are some Youtubers who talk about it every now and then, but... the novelty of those things comes paired with the pressure and fear of knowing my work is being perceived outside of my own scope. Sure, that's just what happens when you share your work online, but even I , in all of the hubris I had to have to create Rekindled in the first place, can't pretend like I'm infallible to that sort of thing. Every time a Youtuber talks about it, every time there's a thread in /r/webtoons about it, every time someone besides myself uses the #lore rekindled tags, I have to live with the small but real consequences of doing what I do - the anons taking it upon themselves to judge me in my own inbox, the Youtube commenters forming their own opinions based on what they assume are my intentions (even when those assumptions are often false), the redditors arguing back and forth over the virtue of transformative rewrites.

It's a small price to pay, for everything that I do here. I can't very well sit here on my pedestal talking shit about something like LO without taking some of that shit in return regarding my own work. It's only natural people will have misinformed opinions about what I do, or will take it upon themselves to dissect and debate and discuss my work regardless of whether they even like the work or not. I try to take it as proactively as I can, that it's a metric of success in and of itself - what I'm making has made people feel something, for some joy, and for others, frustration. The art has done everything it could ever do, for better and for worse - it's made people feel and think and talk. Most of all, it's made me feel and think and talk, and create, and experiment, and fail, and succeed in ways I never thought myself capable before. It's more than I ever expected - and all I really needed to come out of all this.

----------

All that aside, it's not like Rekindled isn't already doing a lot in the way of "expanding my reach", so to speak. Though it is just Tumblr, I've gotten to meet so many amazing readers and writers and artists through this project, and that's at the heart of why I make comics at all. I'm not joking or exaggerating when I say that Rekindled literally couldn't be what it is without the community that surrounds it. And that's a community that I'm hoping will still be interested in hanging with lil' old me even after Rekindled is over.

Rekindled isn't my first rodeo and it certainly won't be my last. In fact, I'm currently (finally) overcoming some of the burnout that's been persisting over the past couple years with my original project, and I'm breaking down walls I literally couldn't have broken down before. I hadn't realized I had been suffocating, and Rekindled wound up being that breath of fresh air that I needed to live again.

It's gonna take time, and there's still a lot of healing happening on my end, but I'm making plans again for what I really wanna do esp for when Rekindled is over, and it's exciting, and scary, and most of all, hopeful.

So all that's to say, if you (anon) or you (everyone else) are really interested in "boosting" my work and getting more eyes on it... well, I suppose I better start sharing more of it outside of just Rekindled, shouldn't I? I hope that when I do, it's welcomed as eagerly as you all welcomed Rekindled. It'll be quite different, and likely won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I hope all the work I've done on Rekindled so far - and what we still have left to accomplish in the future - proves what I'm capable of and allows for the opportunity to really connect with my work, wholly me. Y'all took a chance on me when I first started posting those lil' glow edits and the first scrappy sketches of Rekindled back in the day, so I hope when the time comes, y'all can take that chance on me again <3

And hey, here's a fun fact for you to close out this long response - though it might not be a major platform, judging by the metrics I can see on the surface from other comics alongside it, I'm pretty sure Rekindled is carrying like 90% of the current traffic numbers on Dillyhub LMAO Like seriously, the next highest liked / subbed comic I could find on there didn't even amount to a third of the amount of likes and subs I have on there just through Rekindled. It's actually hilarious, but also kinda sad, because damn... the devs really have abandoned that place. So it's not exactly all that impressive. But that's pretty much exactly why I chose it as a mirror in the first place - I sure as shit wasn't gonna test my luck posting it to Webtoons or Tapas, and the only reason I even wanted a mirror site in the first place was to give non-Tumblr users a place to read it (without being badgered to make an account and without having to sift through all my rants and essays LMAO) so Dillyhub just kinda made sense as a place that was functional enough to host it but not big enough to draw any unwanted attention. Sooo I guess what I'm saying is, you're welcome Dillyhub?? 😆

[froggywritesstuff]

willing prey | yandere!angel dust

ship/pairing: Yandere!Angel Dust x willing!g/n!reader (reader's gender isn't mentioned but Angel Dust is gay so this isn't intended for fem aligned readers)

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

request: anon: Could you do a Yandere Angel dust with a reader who doesn’t mind/doesn’t notice his Yandere tendencies. Like they would actually like to be with Angel?

warnings: swearing, yandere behavior, reader has been kidnapped, handcuffs, mild sexual content, mild dub-con touching/kissing

word count: 821

A/N: yandere x willing!reader is definitely not something i'm used to writing, so i hope this is ok. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

Pink. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you were meant with pink. This wasn’t your room. You went to sit up, but were quickly stopped by the pink, fluffy handcuffs that bound your wrists to the bed frame. You tried to retrace your memory, maybe figure out what you could’ve done to end up here, but your mind was foggy and your head ached, only worrying you more. You looked to your side - and were met with more pink - and tried to find anything familiar that could clue you in on where you were. Whoever lived here mustn’t have been neat, or had been in a hurry before you got here, as clothes were draped and discarded across the carpet in a messy fashion. You blinked before your eyes focused on a pastel pink hoodie on the floor. Your mind was still mushy as you struggled to think of where you had seen it before, when the door was pushed open. You tried sitting up, failing once again due to the handcuffs still locked tightly to your wrists. Tilting your neck up as much as you could, a gasp left your lips as you were met with a familiar face.

”Angel! Oh of course this is your room, I can’t believe it took me so long.” you exclaimed with a laugh, your heart rate picking up as Angel sauntered closer to the bed. He stopped when he heard your chipper voice, his face morphing into one of confusion.

”Yeah, um…” he took a few seconds before regaining his composure, “So I bet you’re wondering why you’re here…”

You smiled, heat rising to your cheeks, “Kind of, yeah.”

Were you that dumb or just really kinky? Angel shook his head as he made his way to the bed. He lifted himself onto the bed and straddled your waist, his hand cupping your cheek as he stared down at you. “I’ve always liked you Y/N.” he ignored the way you poorly hid your smile, “You’re cute, and sweet. And I’m not willing to share you with anyone else.”

"So you kidnapped me?" you asked, eyes widening slightly at his words. 

He nodded, looking like he was about to say something else, before he paused at the sound of the handcuff rattling, and looked to see one of your hands pointing straight upwards. “The fuck- are you fuckin raising your hand?”

”I didn’t wanna interrupt, I thought you were gonna say something-“

“Just say it.” he sighed. He wasn’t mad at your reactions, just confused. He knocked you out, kidnapped you, handcuffed you, and heavily implied that he was in love with you. You can’t just not notice that many red flags.

”Sorry, um,” you swallowed, eyes shifting as you avoided eye contact. You were surprised he couldn’t hear your heartbeat racing, “when you say like me and don’t wanna share me, is that romantically? Like, in a possible boyfriend way?”

”Yeah?”

”Ok, great, just making sure.” you smiled nervously.

”Is this seriously your reaction to getting kidnapped?”

You shrugged slightly, “You’re the one kidnapping me so yeah…”

”You get that I’m gonna like, not let you leave, or see or talk to anyone else?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he watched you nod your head, taking note of the small smile on your lips. “Really?” you shivered with excitement as his lips twisted into a smirk, “So you won’t mind if I keep you tied up? If I…” a small gasp left your lips as his gloved hands gently caressed up and down your waist. “touch you?” his other hands quickly moved to your thighs, your arms, your chest, trying to feel as much of your body as his 4 arms could. “You wouldn’t mind if I…” he leant down, his lips hovering just above yours, before his lips hungrily kissed yours, like he’d been waiting to kiss you since the moment he laid eyes on you. Though that idea wasn’t too far fetched all things considered. “Kissed you?”

You caught your breath in small, rapid breaths as you felt your cheeks burning. Managing to shake your head, you whimpered a small, “No.” From the heat radiating from your cheeks and your racing heartbeat, anyone would’ve thought you’d just ran a marathon.

”Good.” Angel’s smirk widened, his eyes on you like a predator admiring its prey before it feasts. In a way that’s all you were now. You belonged to him, existed only for him to enjoy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d smile with his teeth in the side of your neck, your head empty of anything but him as he drained the life from your body. His lips smashed against yours hard enough to leave a bruise. His hands continued their exploring, determined to feel every inch of your body and claim it as his own. "Stay that way and I might be nicer."

[szasfuckingwife]

WHEN I LOOK IN YOUR EYES, I FEEL ALIVE

EX CONVICT!TOJI X MOM!READER

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, Toji has gone to prison, Toji fushiguro is a family man and wants his family back !!

SYNOPSIS: Toji being incarcerated fucked you and your daughter up badly, and when he’s released, you want nothing more than to hold him again.

A/N: i was listening to Blue by Beyoncé while writing this and she made that song for her daughter and I just felt the need to sob for some reason🥲 but yeah prisonbf! Toji missing his gf and kid fucks me up.

When Toji went to prison, you knew it was the end of your relationship. You warned him so many times that this would happened, even before you gave birth to your daughter. And, knowing Toji, there was no convincing him.

The court trial was the worst memory that comes to mind when talking about Toji. When the judge declared he was guilty, it wasn’t a shock to anyone, even Toji.

But it didn’t help that you were there, holding your two year old as police men took him away. Not once, during the whole ordeal, did Toji look back at you two, deciding it was too much to see his girlfriend and daughter who he loved so much get taken away from him. He’d probably break down right there if he looked back.

You cried so much that day, especially when getting told that he’d be facing five years. Even when your lawyer ensured that Toji would face a lot less if he behaves well in prison, it all went in one ear and out the other.

It had been a difficult two years, he’s missed out on so much. Such as, his daughter’s third and fourth birthday, you having a new job and the fact that you and that guys relationship was more serious than he thought.

He remembers when you told him about it. It was bittersweet due to the fact that you brought your daughter so Toji could see her. “Daddy!” She exclaimed, excited to see her dad even though it’s behind a poorly cleaned window. She was too excited to even speak through the telephone.

But Toji already knew. Toji knew his daughter loved him. He talked to her about school and smiled as his four year old talked about whatever she’d been doing for the past week. Except, she mentioned that her, mommy and ‘that man’ went to the park.

When his daughter said that, Toji looked at you only to see you looking away, embarrassingly. Despite his annoyance, the raven haired man kept smiling at your daughter, even more attentive than he was before.

You took the phone once your daughter was finished, “He’s just a friend from work.”

“Why don’t I know about this guy?” Toji asked whilst keeping his hand pressed up against the glass so his daughter could press her hand up too.

“Because it’s not that serious to be talking about.” You sigh. And you were right, it was a couple of dates and drinks but he didn’t make you feel things that Toji had made you feel. “Don’t do this, Toji, not here. Not in front of her.” Your daughter looks up at you, her hand still separated from her fathers due to the glass.

He scoffed, “Does he sleep over? You fuckin him now, is that it? In my bed, huh?”

You stayed silent, not wanting your daughter to hear you lash out. Toji grew even more annoyed at that, “You know that’s gonna upset her, right? She’s gonna think you’re replacing her dad. That shit isn’t fair, Y/N. You know I’m gonna be released soon.”

“And that’s supposed to make me roll out the red carpet for you? And forget that this shit ever happened?” You scoff. Toji opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again choosing to let you talk. “I’ve missed you so much. She misses you so much. Do you know how hard it has been to raise a child on my own? And for you to give me shit if I wanted to move on? Fuck you, Toji.”

His questions not only angered you, but upset you. You had every right to allow yourself to move on after him being locked up for two years. The fact that he’d even attempt to make you feel bad about that was absurd.

Toji watched silently as you held back tears, put the telephone in its holder and walked away with your daughter.

That was the last conversation he had with you for a year. Toji would’ve slapped his past self for even talking to you like that because he misses you now more than ever.

There were so many times where he’s called you, longing to hear your sweet voice. Even if it’s you saying that he’s a dick and you never wanted to hear from him again.

But that wish was never granted.

‘Hey, it’s me again. It’s nearly peanuts fourth birthday..’ He smiles remembering the nickname you gave your daughter. ‘I was just wondering if maybe you could come around? Or maybe give me a call, just so I can wish her a happy birthday. I miss you more and more each day. Both of you. I love you.’

The voicemail meant nothing to you. It should’ve meant nothing to you. But hearing him say your daughter’s nickname sent tears down your face.

He truly misses his little family.

You can only imagine his excitement when he was released. He called an uber straight to your home, his home. He had nothing but a bag of his possessions and $20 but once he’d see you again, he’d be more than satisfied.

It was a Saturday morning. You cooked your daughter some scrambled eggs for breakfast, reminding you of her dad who ate eggs almost everyday. Toji was set to be released any time now, and that loomed over your head like a plague.

Suddenly, you hear three loud knocks coming from your door. It startled you, and your daughter who nearly dropped her orange juice. It was probably one of your friends who forgot their bag here, you thought.

But once you opened the door, you were met with an unwanted surprise.

Toji stood, smiling down at you, dressed in a casual hoodie and joggers. He was definitely more buff due to all the muscle gain he earned through prison. It was strange seeing him again. Not behind a glass but in front of you. Not in his orange jumpsuit but in normal clothes.

You wanted to touch him, see if he was real.

“Hey..” He said. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss you right then and there. Seeing you again after a year was the best thing that has ever happened to him.

When your daughter saw him, stood at the door, her mouth fell open. “You remember me, sweetheart?” Toji crouched down to her height with open arms as she ran towards him.

He almost cried as his little girl sobbed into his shoulder, she wasn’t as little as she was when he last saw her. He realised how much time has passed. And how much he’s missed the both of you.

“Daddy, don’t l-leave again…”, the four year old croaked out, her nose stuffy and eyes watery. Toji rubbed her back, encouraging her to let her feelings out.

Toji almost jumped when he felt an extra pair of hands join in the hug. However, when he looked up and saw you, he was reminded that everything he ever did and everything he’d ever do would be for the two of you. He pulled you into the hug and held you both, kissing both of your foreheads.

All resentment you felt towards him went away the second you saw him. The three of you caught up, well, it was more of you and your daughter catching him up. The most Toji could do was mention all the times he’s intimidated people at prison, even those serving longer sentences than him. However, Toji was still glad to know you ended things with that guy you were with.

He helped you cook dinner, not forgetting to kiss your cheek every step of the way. The meal truly being made with love. He missed the domesticity of his life. Even when he was going through all his trial stuff, he remembers you, his baby daughter and him all cozied up on the couch, eating spaghetti or something.

And now he had that opportunity again. He enjoyed seeing you remind your daughter to not play with her food and how she asked for ice cream once she was done.

Once the day was over, Toji sat on his bed, his back still not truly recovered from sleeping in a dingy prison bed. It also helped that you were there. You removed his clothes, peppering him with kisses as you did so. He snuggled up to your warm body and just listened to your steady breathing.

“I fucking love you.” He whispers and you hum in response. He knows you and how it’ll take some time before you can utter those words again. If it takes him the rest of his life to make things up to you, he’ll do that.

But that’s fine. As long as he’s with you.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, poorly written smut, mention of scars, allusions to child abuse

A/N: I feel like I say this about every chapter but I really struggled with this one. I even scrapped 3,800 words because I hated it so much. It still ended up being a long one but it feels like a lot of time skipping and nonsense. The beginning is nice though. ;) I hope it’s at least somewhat enjoyable. Thank you, my dears.💙

Your body was on fire; electric jolts sparking with pleasure each place where his skin was touching yours. It was never like this before. It was purely physical, without attachment. Now it felt like he had integrated himself into your very soul. You wanted him deeper than his cock dragging over your inner walls; you wanted him beneath your very skin. 

Each thrust was slow but deep, his back arching when he rolled his hips into you. His lips and hands felt like they were everywhere all at once. He wasn’t just fucking you. He was making love to you. Deliberate, delicate, yet no less exhilarating. 

Your hips raised of their own volition to meet his. You were desperate to snap that inner tension; the tightly coiled heat low in your belly. Daryl had other plans. He was drawing this out. He was savoring you. 

“Easy. I gotcha.” He purred against your ear just before his lips attached to the skin above where your pulse thrummed. “S’gonna feel real good. Hang on for me.” He ventured lower to draw a nipple into his mouth, the swirling of his tongue pulling a moan from you, your hands moving from his bare back to his hair and then returning. You urged him back to your mouth, whining against his smiling lips. 

“Please.” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for; there was so much sensation that you couldn’t even pinpoint where you needed him most. “Please, please, please.” He chuckled and made a slow journey with his fingertips, whispering down your torso to disappear between your bodies. A calloused thumb pressed against your clit and you nearly wailed. 

“That’s it. Let go for me.” His thrusts never wavered, leaving you to dimly wonder if this would be the first of many orgasms he would give you before he was chasing his own high. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

You could feel your cunt clamp around him and begin to pull him impossibly deeper, preparing for your orgasm to wash over you. You were right on the edge, teetering. His lips met yours and your hips angled upward, the knot ready to burst. Just as you felt the first wave of ecstasy—

You opened your eyes to the dim light of a small lamp on the bedside table. You still felt tired when somewhere in your mind, you could recall that something happened and you should feel better. In your sleepy haze, you couldn’t seem to summon the memories. Only the residual feel of Daryl’s body pressed against yours and the pleasure he was so eagerly offering you. 

“That must’ve been some dream.”

You lifted your head to find Carol sitting in a chair close to the bedside, a small smile on her face and her hands folded on her lap. 

“Carol.” Your lips curved upward ever so slightly. 

“So dehydrated but still able to drool so I’d say we’re making progress.” She chuckled while you dragged the back of your hand across your mouth with a curl of your lip. 

“The baby okay?” You scratched at your scalp, still trying to piece together what happened that ended with you in bed and hooked up to fluids. 

“Mhm. Hershel says the heartbeat is strong.” She smiled, the sadness behind her eyes more transparent than she probably realized. 

“What happened?” You inquired, slowly pushing yourself up to sit against the headboard without disturbing the IV tubing. Just as her mouth opened, the memories of your rescue mission came flooding back in a breathtaking onslaught. “Oh god, Daryl!” You grabbed the blanket and threw it back, aiming to get to your feet, only halting by a gentle touch to your ankle. 

“He’s in the next room. He’s gonna be fine.”

When the sudden rush evaporated, you sank back against the pillows. You had all three made it. 

“He was in shock by the time you made it back. Hershel gave him some IV fluids and is going to start some antibiotics. He’s all patched up. He’ll be back to his cheery self in no time.”

You chuckled. “Just a ball of sunshine, that one.” Your smile fell away, remembering just how horrible he had looked the last time you saw him; dragging his feet along behind you. Blood dampened his shirt, his pants. He was pale as milk, dark circles under his eyes. You held on to a fragile hope that he—if nothing else—looked better after stitches and fluids. “Is he awake?”

“He was stirring a little while ago.” You nodded, picking at your left thumbnail. “I’m gonna get you some water. Maybe we can take out that IV now that you’re awake.” The other woman stood gracefully, donning her usual smile except it wasn’t quite reaching her eyes. Your gaze followed her out the door, your heart aching for her. She was so intent on caring for you and your baby while her own child was still missing. It was a bleak reminder of how unfair life truly was. 

You inwardly sighed, your stomach beginning to feel ill at ease. How did you end up in this position? All of it. The dead rising to eat the living. Losing everyone you held dear. Making a baby with a complete stranger. And now so desperate to keep that man in your life that it frightened you. Just—how?

Everything had been so normal before. You had your routine with your father waiting at home for you everyday. You’d sit with him over a dinner that you prepared, listening to his lame jokes and laughing even harder when they weren’t funny. Your uncles and aunt would come over once every two weeks for a big supper. You’d usually save the larger kill for those occasions. 

God, you missed them. 

But they weren’t here now.

Daryl was. You’d be damned if you’d lose someone else. 

A soft knock on the door signaled Carol’s return. She had a tray of food. Eggs, apparently. The last time, when Daryl had brought them, you had been famished and paid no mind to the smell. It was different this time, and your stomach was not pleased. 

“The eggs.” You gagged, sitting up and covering your mouth and nose. Carol’s eyes widened and she swiftly put the tray outside the door and grabbed up the water glass before she shut the smell out. 

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I brought the pills that Maggie and Glenn were able to get. They found a few bottles so you should be set for now.” She handed you the medication and the water. Your stomach churned angrily. “I’ll see about getting Beth to make you another smoothie.”

“Thank you.” It was made clear by the expression on her face that she was worried. “I’ll be okay.” The pill had a grainy texture and left a horrible taste. You washed it down with a sip of water, but the unpleasant assault on your tastebuds continued. It would be worth it if it meant everything would stop trying to crawl out of your throat. 

“I’ll get Hershel to see about that IV. Then maybe you’d like to go see Daryl?”

You gave her a nod and a tight-lipped smile, watching her leave to fetch the vet. Ugh. You knew he would lecture you, but you couldn’t let it sway your desire to protect your little family. That’s exactly what it was: a family. Your relationship with Daryl didn’t alter the fact that you would share a child. Co-parent. Protect one another.

A rapid knock on the door before it opened revealed the vet. “Carol tells me you’re feeling okay. Maybe we can remove your IV if you can ensure you’ll continue to take in as much water as you can.” 

“I can do that.”

He studied you for a moment, as if searching for a hint that you may not follow through. Apparently satisfied that you’d heed his instructions, he rounded the bed and began working on removing the catheter from your arm. The grim expression was sign enough that you were about to be scolded. “Y/N, you understand the risks involved when you go out there.” And so it began. “This, I can’t stop you from doing but you should consider the safety of your child if nothing else.”

“No one else was going to try and find him. It was something I had to do.” You lowered your head, feeling not unlike a child who was in trouble for drawing on the walls and knowing better. 

There was nothing left to say. He continued to stare for a moment after instructing you to bend your arm and hold pressure on the square of gauze he’d placed there. Perhaps, he was attempting to understand. Maybe he was judging your decision. Maybe he was even praying for you. It didn’t matter. In the end, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave the room. 

As soon as the door closed, you tossed the gauze onto the bedside table, carefully lowering your feet to the floor. The mattress acted as support while you ensured dizziness wouldn’t bombard you. Your vision stayed clear, even if your stomach was still protesting. Hopefully it would settle soon enough. 

You knew Daryl would likely be across the hall. There was an anxiety at the thought of seeing him; one you couldn’t validate. You knew you wanted to go, to see with your own eyes that he was alive and healing. You chose to ignore the feeling and opened the door, pausing on the threshold when you heard his voice. 

“I didn’t do anythin’ Rick or Shane wouldn’t done.”

“I know.” You could see Carol step into the doorway of the adjacent room. You stepped back behind the frame of your own, feeling like an intruder. “You’re every bit as good as them. Every bit.” The door closed, her soft steps moving further away, most likely in route to get your smoothie. 

You could absolutely throttle the redneck after hearing him downplay what he had been nearly killing himself to achieve. He had worked just as hard as anyone else in the search for Sophia. If he wouldn’t acknowledge the effort he’d put in, he was likely giving himself hell over being placed on the sidelines after his injury. There was no way Hershel was going to clear him to go back out there anytime soon. 

Your bare feet barely made a sound when you crossed the space between rooms, leaning into the door with one hand on the knob while the other quietly knocked. 

“Jesus, can’t a guy get some sleep ‘round here. What is it now?”

Scrunching your nose in response to his grumpy attitude, you opened the door and peered inside. He most likely wasn’t expecting you. His back was to you, the sheet up to the curve of his hips, giving you a glimpse of the deep, dark puckered lines of several scars. His skin was still pale. They likely didn’t appear so harsh against his normally tan complexion. Still…

“Hey, dumbass. How’re you feeling?” The way he flinched and clumsily gripped the thin cover to drag it up higher made your chest tighten. The reason he didn’t want to remove his shirt when you fucked; he didn’t want you see. 

“Callin’ me a dumbass when you was the one came runnin’ after me all half cocked.” He mumbled, not turning to look at you. Deflecting. You decided to let it go. He was so ashamed of that part of himself. He needed to keep that secret. It wasn’t yours to know. Maybe one day. 

“I could make so many jokes out of what you just said and most would be at your expense.”

“Y’can go now, funny girl.”

You crawled up onto the mattress and maneuvered your way over to where he lay, resting your chin on the curve of his shoulder while carefully avoiding adding any pressure against his wounded side. 

“Don’t be such a sourpuss. You know you’re glad to see me.”

Daryl scoffed, shrugging his shoulder to jostle your head. “Pain in my ass.” You peered at his outstretched right arm, the taped tubing leading up to a bag of clear fluids, half empty. At least his skin was feeling warmer. “Y’okay?”

“I’m sure they already told you that I’m fine.” You answered softly. You resisted the urge to brush your fingers over the bandage on his head. 

“Don’t matter. Better to hear it outta ya own mouth.”

You smiled. “I’m fine, Daryl. A little nauseous but Maggie and Glenn found the medicine.”

He grunted, a moment passing before he asked “baby okay?” His voice had lowered, muscles tensing beneath your chin, as if he were bracing himself for your answer. 

“Mhm. Hershel checked and said the heartbeat was strong.” He relaxed almost immediately. You were once again reminded of his desire to not be touched. You had seen him flinch away from Rick and Carol. After a rare glimpse at his bare back, the fear made sense. But he saw you differently. He had chosen to accept you as safe for whatever reason. It had to be more than your willingness to spread your legs for him once upon a time not that long ago. 

“That’s good.” He muttered. He sounded a little groggy. 

“He give you something for the pain?” You tilted your head on his arm, your cheek lightly pressing against the muscle there. 

“Mhm. Didn’t want it. Shoulda saved it.” 

“Take the meds, you stubborn ass.” You nearly shoved at him, albeit playfully. It still would have caused him discomfort. His movements were stiff, the muscles rippling under your face as his hand came up to present a clear message in the form of one finger. “You’re so mature, Dixon.” You teased. “I’m so honored to be the birth giver of your spawn.” There was instant regret when you felt him flinch, tense up, and then deflate. 

“M’sorry.” His voice was raspy. Tired. You didn’t hesitate to caress the white bandage over his temple this time. 

“Don’t be.” You soothed, watching him battle to stay awake. “I’m not.” You glanced at the sheet covering his back, shielding his shame from you. You could see the very top of what appeared to be the aftermath of a burn. Daryl had definitely had the opposite of your childhood. Where you had love and tenderness and support, it was suggested Daryl had pain and cruelty and isolation. Somehow, you knew that he would want better for his own child. 

“I ain’t gonna be—like our daddy. My kid—ain’t gonna be like us.”

You brought your hand up to trace shapes onto his forearm, smiling as goosebumps rose from the gentle caress. “Daryl?”

You thought he might already be asleep, but then he drew in a breath and answered with a drawn out “hmm?” 

“I really am honored.” 

He went so still that he appeared to hold his breath, before he made a dismissive noise and shrugged you off of him. “Tryin’a sleep, woman.”

“Okay.” You had hit a nerve. It wasn’t like you didn’t consider the possibility he’d react negatively. “I’ll be across the hall.” You gracelessly scooted across the mattress, just having thrown your legs over the edge when there was a grip on your wrist, firm but gentle. You looked over your shoulder to find him awkwardly balanced on his right elbow while keeping the arm as straight as possible for the IV. He wasn’t looking at you but it had to hurt for him to have twisted into how he was to reach for you. 

The breath he took shuddered. “Stay.” 

“Alright.” Your free hand came to rest on the one that held your wrist, intending to provide comfort for a request he was obviously uncomfortable to make, but he pulled back his arm and settled against the pillow. Withholding your sigh, you settled behind him on your side, facing him but not touching. 

It wasn’t difficult for sleep to find you in the dimly lit room with Daryl’s deep, even breathing acting as your gentle lullaby. 

It was frightening how so many things could change so quickly. Hell, an entire world could end in a matter of days. 

You were up and about the day after you awoke with the IV in your arm. Hershel had instructed you to take it easy and, for once in your life, you had listened. You helped with cooking and hanging laundry. Anything that allowed you to sit often for water breaks and did not require you to lift. 

Daryl was also out of the house that following day. Not because Hershel had allowed it. But because he felt anxious, cooped up. He was stealthy, as per usual, and back in his tent with a book before anyone had noticed he was missing. To his credit, he did move slower and didn’t engage in anything strenuous. Well, for a few days anyway. 

Lori’s pregnancy had been a shocker to everyone. It was laughable to you how suddenly, you weren’t such a burden in the eyes of the second officer. It was also very revealing. You had suspected something all along, but watching him with Rick’s wife when he thought all heads were turned had just confirmed your suspicions. 

That same man was growing more and more volatile with each passing day. He was constantly challenging Rick, the sort of leader of your little group, and then going off on his own to do god knows what. Daryl had butted heads with him a few times over a variety of things. The most recent was just before Lori’s pregnancy was revealed. Shane made an off-handed comment—after you had once again stood your ground against him—about breeding with a redneck having an affect on your mentality. The archer had only conceded when you had stepped in front of him. 

Tensions only rose when Glenn had revealed that Hershel had been keeping walkers in the barn. The issue was debated and discussed repeatedly with no clear resolution. Shane had come stomping over to the porch where everyone was congregated, handing out guns and riling everyone up. He was determined to clear the barn. You stood with Lori, even as Daryl went in with Shane, guns blazing. The action was one that would change everything for everyone forever. 

When the lanky little girl stumbled out of the darkness beyond the barn doors, no one moved. No one made a sound. Except Carol. She had tried to run to Sophia, would have gladly allowed her daughter to rip into her throat at that moment if it meant she would get to hold her. Your fingers only brushed the woman’s arm as you attempted to stop her with a watery call of her name. Luckily, Daryl was successful. He held her until the last moment and even after the walker had fallen by Rick’s gun. 

The drama didn’t end there. 

A young man had been kept in the barn after Rick, Glenn, and Hershel had brought him back with an injury that required surgery. Randall ended up knowing of the Greene farm and thus, became a threat. Rather, the group that had left him was a threat, but—guilty by association and all that. Daryl had participated in the torture of the kid for information. That led to the collapse of already unsteady ground between the two of you. Dale had died still believing that the group was above taking a life. Randall was still in that barn, awaiting the decision on his fate. 

Daryl took the discovery of Sophia in the barn harder than anyone, the exception being Carol. He moved his tent away from the camp, hunted alone, and stayed away from everyone. 

Including you. 

The one time you had tried to talk with him, not even about the distance between you, he had reacted with anger. When you stomped away, you swore you wouldn’t go back. And you hadn’t. That had been more than two weeks ago. 

Inside the house, you were noticing even more changes but these were within your own body. It was as if, over night, your breasts had decided that your bra was just no longer suitable housing. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you studied them. They didn’t look bigger. Squeezing them in your palms, you hissed at the tender ache the gentle action left behind. You’d just have to wear a flannel over your cami so your nipples didn’t alert everyone that the evening was getting chilly. 

Your special condition had been particularly nasty the past two days, requiring fluids once again, leaving you weak and exhausted. You grabbed your jeans from the armchair and stepped into them. There was the slightest bit of resistance getting them over your hips, earning a crease in your brow. It wasn’t until the button and zipper wouldn’t meet that you realized something really had changed. 

Pushing the denim back to your knees, you turned sideways in front of the mirror. Sure enough, there was the slightest curve to your lower belly. How hadn’t you noticed? With a defeated slump to your shoulders, you let your head roll over to where your sleep pants laid at the foot of the bed. Those and your oversized t-shirt had been enough to keep you ignorant to the changes your body was making to accommodate your baby. 

“Ugh, I’m not ready, Thumper.” You whined with a cool palm over the small bump. Grumbling to yourself as you kicked off the jeans and grabbed the plaid cotton pants, you slipped them on and just pulled the t-shirt back on over your camisole. Your flannel would be enough against the autumn chill and with your boots adding to your already questionable attire, you trudged out the door and down the stairs. 

Your first stop was the kitchen. Lori was there with Carl, handing him a plate that contained a sandwich and probably stale potato chips. She smiled at you as you entered, eyeing your outfit with a barely concealed smile. 

“Hey there. Making a fashion statement?”

Drinking down a glass of water to swallow your pill, you turned sideways and hauled up your shirt and cami before lowering your pants slightly. The other woman gave you a nod. 

“Ah, I see.” Lori began putting away food that was not used for lunch. “How far along are you?”

The question caught you off guard. You honestly hadn’t thought about it in a while. You had been more concerned with Glenn being able to find enough vitamins, with keeping down enough food and water, with Daryl being a jerk, and just with surviving. The farm had brought about several weeks of safety and you wished for your little calendar that you had kept in the beginning. 

“It’s okay if you don’t—”

“No, I got this.” You assured, beginning to count on your fingers. It was more difficult than you thought. The days seemed to blend, some more eventful than others, leaving you unable to recall the quiet days in between. “Maybe 17 weeks?”

Lori nodded. “Sounds about right. Everyone’s different but I’m finding myself more sick with this one than I ever was with Carl. When you have your second, it could be smooth sailing and you could have already popped,” she raised her hands in air quotes, “by the time you’re this far along.”

You tilted your head. “Popped?”

Lori chuckled and continued with her task. “Means that one day you just wake up to a very noticeable belly.”

You looked down at your stomach, still on display with your shirt tucked under your arms to keep it raised. You wouldn’t say that you have popped as Lori put it. It was hardly noticeable until you tried to fasten your jeans. However, it was there. You adjusted your clothes and pursed your lips with a hum. 

“Not sure there’ll ever be a second. I think one might be enough for the end of the world.”

You could see her expression shift, the smile and ease morphing into a questioning discomfort. Maybe it was time to table this conversation. 

“I think I’ll head outside for a while. Get some fresh air. Maybe see if someone will take me to get some different clothes. I definitely don’t want to run around in my pajamas when the weather turns.” The other woman nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“I will, thanks.”

You dipped your head and ambled out the screen door. The sun’s glare, high in the sky, was a shock to your eyes after being tucked away inside. Your hand acted as a visor against your brow as you scanned the farm. Everyone was scurrying around in their day to day activities, a sort of normalcy settling since everyone had moved into the house.

Except Daryl, of course. 

You heaved a sigh at the thought of him out toward the edge of the farm alone. He could handle himself but the self isolation he was inflicting caused a heaviness in your heart that was beginning to fester. Carol had tried to bring him back and he had become irate. The things he had said to her were shared with you when the woman had finally let her tears fall against your shoulder. You wanted to throat punch him. 

Maybe you would. 

You saw Andrea perched on top of the RV with her rifle. You could almost picture Dale hovering behind her, as he often did. The vehicles had been moved closer to the house, providing much needed reassurance of a quick escape if it were deemed necessary. Chewing on your lip, you let your shoulders drop. It was time to bury that hatchet. 

The climb up the ladder wasn’t as difficult as you thought it’d be. You weren’t thrilled about the height with your sporadic bouts of dizziness but as long as you stayed near the middle, it’d be okay. 

Andrea glowered for a moment before turning back to keep watch over the fields. 

“Hey.” You greeted. She didn’t respond, her eyes looking you up and down before she turned around again. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve more than that. You pointed a gun at my head.” 

You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath. “You could have killed Daryl, Andrea.” You kept your tone level, holding up a hand when she spun around with no doubt a snarky retort on her tongue. “I didn’t come to argue with you. I came to apologize.”

“Yeah? Apology not accepted.”

Another deep breath. “That decision is yours to make. Nevertheless, I’m sorry. I was sick. I was exhausted. I wasn’t thinking clearly and you had just shot the man I lo—the father of my baby.” You blinked, stunned by what you’d almost said in the moment. The look that suddenly appeared on Andrea’s face conveyed she’d caught it too. You shook your head and continued, hoping both of you could just forget it. “None of those things are an excuse for what I did when it was truly a mistake. So, I’m sorry.” When you turned to climb down, you had nearly let yourself be suffocated by the weight of your near an admission. Was it an admission? Were you just emotional? Hormones? Insanity? The dream and then this?

“I won’t tell anyone.” 

You turned back, catching her eye and holding it. She could. She could spread it through the group and eventually it would make its way to Daryl and you were not ready to have that conversation. After a moment, you nodded in silent thanks. “Are we good?” Your voice was weaker than you intended. 

Andrea smiled, a surprising kindness in her gaze. “We’re good.”

You inexplicably wanted to cry, barely controlling the quiver of your chin. “Thanks.” Going down the ladder was a little more difficult in part to the blurred vision for which the tears were responsible. 

Once your feet were on the ground, you just started to walk, no destination in mind. When your heart screamed for Daryl, your rationality stomped it down. He was your friend. Alright, you’d been closer to him than anyone else in the group. It was never supposed to be something more. You didn’t want anything more. You didn’t want a baby with him. You didn’t want to feel trapped there. 

But you didn’t feel trapped, did you? The majority of that group was kind to you. They cared for you when you were ill, expecting nothing from you. Daryl, for all his tendency to an absolute asshat, had been tender with you at times. You were safe when you could have been alone, left to figure out the pregnancy and raise a baby on your own. No, you wouldn’t have made it on your own. The complications would have killed you. 

You let out a sob, walking faster and allowing the tears to flow without wiping them away. Your cheeks and neck were damp. Why were you even upset? Had the world finally broken you? You thought you’d last much longer than that, but you never could have predicted the events that had led you to where you were. 

And where you were was Daryl’s camp. 

The archer was perched on the ground, next to a dark patch of earth surrounded by rocks; a fire pit that was currently unutilized. He was scowling when he looked up at your approach, but his expression changed; a sudden conveyance of concern as he hauled himself to his feet. 

“S’wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you were there. The last thought of him before you spoke with Andrea was one of anger. Your body was crying out for a feeling of safety; for a shield from everything bad that could harm you or the little innocent life inside you. Somehow—for reasons you no longer had the energy to debunk—your feet took you straight to Daryl. 

“Y/N?” His gruff voice spoke into your hair after you walked directly into his space, your fisted hands tucked under your chin while your face pressed into the solid warmth of his chest. He didn’t move. You didn’t want him to, not really. It would only make everything more confusing. 

When he remained silent but his hand came to rest lightly against your back, you turned your hands and grabbed fistfuls of his vest. You pushed him away and hauled him right back, angry that he let you. You needed him to yell at you. You needed him to tell you that he didn’t care; that he’d only be around for you because of the baby. 

When you tried to shove him again, he stood firm, his other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

“Goddamnit, Daryl! Push me away! Shut me out!” You slapped a hand hard against his chest, fingers pulling at the leather again. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer because you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to send you away. And you were so scared of that revelation that you yearned to scream just to feel something other than scattered turmoil that was enveloping your heart in a deviant swaddle of barbed wire. 

Without a resolution to your emotional plight, you continued to cry until it drained everything out of you. Damn him, he just stood there with his arms around you; being the shield you so desperately needed. You wanted to hate him for it. 

You wanted to, but you couldn’t. 

Your sobs eventually dulled into sniffles and hiccups. After what felt like hours, your legs gave out, any strength you had when you left that bedroom was utterly spent. Daryl didn’t let you fall. You knew he wouldn’t. You weren’t tired enough to miss the way he held you up or the way he bent to sweep his arm under your knees. 

You didn’t look at him while he carried you; turned your back to him when he placed you on the cot inside his tent. The flinch when he draped the sleeping bag over you was unintentional. You hoped he’d leave. Maybe he’d go out to hunt, irritated that you invaded the space he’d built for himself. 

“Why’re ya here?”

Of course he didn’t. The universe hated you, that was abundantly clear now. “I—don’t know.”

“This cause’a hormones or whatever s’called?”

You snorted weakly, your hand working out from beneath the sleeping bag to wipe at your face. “What do you know about hormones, Daryl?”

“The book says—”

“Book?” You sat up on your forearm and twisted to look back at him. The archer looked annoyed, a decent flush spreading from his cheeks to the top of his ears. 

“Went into that town they go to for the meds an’ shit. Grabbed a, uh, book about baby stuff.” You blinked at him, earning a frown in return. “Don’t look at me like that. Yeah, I read, Y/N.”

You looked past his shoulder to where two books peeked from beneath some of his clothes. The one in question was closer, upside down and open beside the battery powered lamp. 

The Expectant Father: Facts, Tips, and Advice for Dads-to-be

The small upturn of one corner of your mouth had him shifting to shield the book from your sight. 

“How much have you read?” 

“‘Nough to know it ain’t much fun for ya some’a the time.” He wouldn’t look at you now, finding interest in a piece of grass that he’d tracked inside. You hummed, a stirring in your chest that directly correlated with the feelings that had guided you there in the first place. The difference now was that you felt oddly grounded, able to focus on a single thought or feeling. 

“Daryl?” He grunted without looking up. “Will you please move into the house?”

He sighed as though he’d been asked a thousand times. “Nah, too many people.”

“Then—can I stay out here with you?” It was your turn to find something to occupy your gaze. You settled on the sleeping bag zipper. 

“Ya need to be inside. Safer there.”

“I have a bedroom.” You weren’t sure how you felt about sharing a close space with the hunter, but you knew you needed him close. Tent or bedroom, you didn’t really care. “It’d just be me and you.” 

The subtle shift of his jaw indicated he was chewing the inside of his cheek. Maybe you could find him something like toothpicks or straws, anything to keep him from hurting himself when he was uncomfortable. 

“Why ya want me there? Ain’t like I’m miles away.”

“I feel safer with you.” Now it was you turning pink, your cheeks and neck flushing warm. 

Daryl snorted. “Ya got over half a dozen people in there.”

“They’re not you.” You countered before you could think of a better way to say it. “Look, you’re the first person I met from this group. You’ve never hurt me. I trust you to fight with me.” You ducked your head. “To fight for me. To protect me if I can’t protect myself. To protect our baby.” When you met his eyes, you realized he had never looked at you the way he was at that moment. He still had that unreadable expression that you sometimes wanted to slap off of his face, but his eyes. There was something in his eyes. 

“Lemme think ‘bout it.” He stated while rising to his feet. “Gotta meet ‘bout the kid later. Letcha know after.”

You didn’t want to drop the subject but at least he was going to consider it. Sitting up, you slumped on the cot, already feeling the need for a nap. Your energy levels had taken a major hit from your momentary lapse of sanity. Scratching at an itch on your belly, you were suddenly struck with the urge to share the progress note with Daryl. He was reading damn books on pregnancy. Surely he’d want to see. Right?

“Um, Daryl?”

“Yeah?” He’d stepped out to get his crossbow and bring it inside, continuing whatever he’d been doing. He still hadn’t asked you to leave. Maybe he was afraid you’d go batshit crazy a second time. 

“I thought you might—well, this morning—” You furrowed your brow, groaning at your inability to put it into words. Finally, you just stood and lifted your shirt, sliding your pants down to just above your pubic bone. “I, uh, can’t get into my jeans anymore thanks to Thumper.” 

Goddamn the man’s ability to maintain an expression of complete and utter stoicism. You suddenly felt self conscious, exposed. Maybe he couldn’t even see the difference. Fuck. 

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t—I think I should go.” You slipped your fingers beneath the waistband of the pants but that’s as far as you got before you felt Daryl’s fingertips on your knuckles. He didn’t say anything as he stepped closer, shining blue orbs zeroed in on your stomach. You tracked his movements, each step slow and deliberate until he was directly in front of you. Using the tip of his index finger, he drew a line from your sternum to just where your pants sat below the small curve of your belly. 

“Really in there, huh?” His voice was soft and raspy and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you at all. It seemed like a moment between father and child. His palm was warm when he placed it flat just below your navel. You watched his hand, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin. It tickled but you stifled the giggle that threatened. 

You opened your mouth to ask what the book said about how far along you were but when you lifted your gaze from your belly, he wasn’t looking at it at all. Deep blue pools were staring right back at you. 

You knew your breaths were coming faster and your heart was beating a tattoo against your ribs. “Daryl?” Did you imagine that or did he just glance at your lips? You brought your hand to his face, barely brushing his skin when he pulled away abruptly.

“Head on back to the house. Don’t think I’ll be movin’ in there. Better out here.” He grabbed up his weapon and turned his back to you. 

You were still standing frozen, belly exposed and hand just finally dropping to your side. “Daryl, I—”

“Go.” Daryl’s voice cracked on the word. 

You adjusted your clothing and stepped toward him. “Daryl—”

“GO!”

Eyes blown wide, you flinched back and stumbled from the tent. With energy you didn’t know you had, you ran and managed to make it to the house without falling though you stumbled on more than one occasion. You ignored the concerned calls of your name, nearly taking a tumble on the stairs, before finally disappearing into the bedroom and slamming the door. With your back against it, you tried and tried to catch your breath through the onslaught of tears. Your chest was tight, your stomach rolling. 

Trapped in your distress, you couldn’t hear the screen door slap against the wall, Daryl’s boots heading toward the stairs, or even Carol’s accusatory shout. 

“What did you do, Daryl?!”

[nnight-dances]

LOVE 119

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: FLUFF (!!!) with a hint of angst

TROPES: established relationship with age gap, just silly boyfriend girlfriend things because i was in a silly mood, cooking slander, cute lovesick shit.

NOTE: my debut riize fic!!! i know i said i wasn't going to write anything before the vernon fic but guys you have to believe me when i say this fic basically wrote itself. enjoy my wonbin brainrot that was born because i'm scared of getting older but it is what is is, and the way i cope is to write it <3 let me know what you think, ily!

It was never not going to feel weird to you, to have a boyfriend who was younger than you. Forget that Wonbin was only born a year after you, you couldn't shake the weirdness off because you'd never done it before. All of your relationships had been with men older than you, sometimes by outrageous numbers but never so much that they would find a way to abuse their age with you. So why was it that when you'd lay eyes on your current boyfriend and feel a rush of excitement, it made you coil up… like you were doing something wrong?

"You wanna get Wendy's for dinner?" Wonbin asks you, lying upside down on your bed, your white sheets enveloping him and emphasizing his soft edges all over. You blink at him, not meaning to ignore him but ending up leaving his question unanswered when your thoughts pull you back into your head–

It wasn't even like he acted younger. If anything, he was adamant to keep up his tough exterior in front of you most days, only breaking down into the soft romantic he was when you'd show him your own vulnerable sides. In fact, people who knew you were often shocked to find that you were the older one in the equation, eyeing both Wonbin's height advantage and your knack for acting the tantrum-thrower. So, why did you feel this storm brewing in your gut anyway?

"Babe?" Wonbin sits up when you keep staring into space, brows rising in concern, "You good, darling?" The worried tone your boyfriend's questions carry do right to bring you back to earth and you cough in embarassment. Way to start acting your age, you scold yourself, standing up all too quickly. 

But brave the iron-deficient darkness that spots your vision for a moment to declare, "No, no more Wendy's. It's too…" you pause, giving yourself a chance to think over your words, "unhealthy. We should look at what we eat."

Really? You were gonna go for the stubborn mom approach? 

If there was ever a window for you to take back your words, it was definitely closed now because Wonbin's grinning mischeviously, not quite sure what you were acting out about but enjoying the consequences nonetheless. He rolls over, not a minute's thought to the way his hair was sticking every which way. 

"So, what? You're gonna cook us dinner or something?" Wonbin's classic indifference lilts his words but his eyes are sparkling with the possibility of seeing a new side of you.

You cross your arms, a poorly-masked sigh leaving you, "I… will."

With that, you swerve out of your bedroom and pace toward the kitchen, appalled at the situation you were getting yourself into. It was no secret that while you were self-sufficient in most aspects of your life, cooking was far from one of your most-accomplished skills. But that didn't mean you were a complete disaster. 

You take a deep breath as you survey the ingredients in your fridge, brain working over-time to come up with a recipe that could be your dinner for the day. 

"I'd love some rice and vegetable stir-fry–" Wonbin's cheeky comment stops halfway when he sees your glare but the boy is having too much fun because he continues with a wink, "Please?"

"As funny as you are," you turn back around to the fridge, a plan forming in your mind, "I'm not taking orders today, sorry. And thanks to my limited inventory, tonight's dish is–" You set a carton of eggs on the counter with a sweet smile, "Omurice."

Wonbin's grin falls, right from his eyes when he looks at the counter as you start preparing rice and warm up the pan for the dish. "What? It's dinner time, Y/N!" he complains, "and plus, even if omurice was considered dinner in another world, it'd be for kids."

You gasp dramatically at this words but don't pay his words any attention. You hadn't planned to bring out the pouty boy leaning over the counter, frowning at your every unbothered move, but you can't say you're not enjoying it. And what's better is that you know for a fact that your omurice is your best chance at impressing your boyfriend with your cooking skills.

"Wonbin, trust me, you're not gonna regret sticking around for this omurice," you tell him over your shoulder, expertly sliding the eggs around on the pan, "I made this all the time back in my study abroad days in Japan. I learnt from the best."

This meets Wonbin by surprise, "You studied abroad in Japan? What the hell?"

You laugh, "It was a long time ago and only for a year. Not the most interesting thing about me either."

"That's crazy," Wonbin thinks out loud, "I wish I'd studied abroad."

"Why didn't you?"

"I hate travelling, especially for that short of a time. And I hate making new friends so I decided against wasting my energy."

You nod, "Fair enough. Plus," you spin around to grab two plates from the counter, "If you'd gone, I would've never met you when I did."

Wonbin watches you hard at word, chin on his palm, "I guess you're right. I would've been off-campus for junior year and by the time I'd get back, you would've graduated."

"Scary thought," you muse as you get started on the fried rice beside the omelette that you let cook for just a little.

"Not really, I'm sure we would've met either way," Wonbin says with a conviction that has you turning around with an inquistive look. He shrugs at your teasing look, "What? I think it's lame to think we met just by chance."

"Of course it was," you laugh, "I ran into you and spilled my coffee all over you. Babe, that's literally the definition of a chance encounter. I could've ran into anyone else, or maybe you could've never been there waiting for Sungchan."

You're staring on the ketchup decoration when Wonbin responds, "But you didn't. That's exactly it. There was a chance for all of those other things happening, all at random, but you ran into me. I think that has to mean something."

You can't conceal the goofy grin that spills across your lips when you meet Wonbin's expression of absolute gravity. He's so serious about insisting that you were meant to be and it has your heart melting. "You're cute," you sigh, presenting him with your finished products. He's distracted from the conversation when he catches the sight before him.

"Woah," he lets out, looking at you in shock, "Y/N, this looks amazing."

"Wait till you taste it," you pat his cheek, pulling him along to the makeshift dining table you'd set up recently, with a good view of both the huge window across the room and the television in your living room. 

"That's so good," Wonbin groans, speaking with his mouth full, "I'm sorry I doubted your skills, this is the best thing I've tasted."

You laugh, ears redenning at his flattery but relishing the way he can't seem to stop eating the warm dish. "I'm glad you like it," you take a bite yourself, satisfied that you hadn't lost your touch along the years. 

"Insane. I didn't know my girlfriend was hiding her inner cook all this time," he comments, smiling when he's done eating, "What else am I going to find out about you? You weren't in a gang or something before I met you, right?"

"Hold your horses, boy," you shush him, taking his plate to the sink, "You'll find out all my secrets with time."

You're running the plates under water to let them soak up some moisture when you feel your boyfriend's arms around your waist. "Wonbin?" you echo.

The boy's nose settles in the crook of your neck, stealing some of the warmth that rushes there at the contact. "Thank you," he mumbles into your back, "You're so cool. I want to be with you forever."

You choke over your own hitched breath, "You can't just say that!" 

"Sorry," his tone tells you he's not a bit sorry, "I'm just so happy whenever I'm with you. That's why I can't imagine a world where I'm not with you. Right here, holding you while you take care of me."

"If you're trying to kill me, it's really working," you sigh out with hot cheeks, barely managing to finish washing the dishes with all the sickly sweet confessions that are basically oozing out of Wonbin. He laughs a low laugh, kissing your ear as he pulls away. 

Your head feels light, heartbeat irregular because somehow, like always, Wonbin knows exactly what to say. Even if you hadn't voiced your worries out loud, his words were the perfect antidote to the baseless worries you were entertaining earlier. He was so gentle, the way he was reassuring that you weren't the only baby in this relationship, after all, you did your part in looking after him. 

"Tell me," you walk up to him, wrapping yourself around his torso this time, face propped up against his chest to look up at him, "It's your turn to share a secret with me."

"Hmm," Wonbin hums thoughtfully, slowly steering both of your bodies toward the bedroom, closing the door behind him, "I don't know… How about the fact that I was in squash club?"

"You were?" 

"Yeah, I loved it. I went to every single practice when I was a freshamn, even in the middle of the week, because it got my mind off everything," he says quietly, "It was the only place where I could forget trying to be likeable. I didn't have to make friends, just had to be good at the game."

"And were you?" you ask, knowing the answer to the question. 

"Yeah, I think so. That's probably why they wanted to make me captain of the club in sophomore year."

"Oooh, that's amazing. Now it makes sense why your quads are so built," you grin into his skin when he plops both of you onto the bed, "But wait, I don't remember you being captain when I met you?"

"That's because I didn't take the offer. I knew I would have my hands full in junior year and I hate doing things half-heartedly," Wonbin's eyes take on a distant look, but you can tell he doesn't regret his choice a bit. It was his choice, after all. 

"Ah, that's a good policy to have," you kiss his cheek, "Thank you for telling me."

Wonbin's lips lift up in a small smile at your comment, nodding in acknowledgment. "Now… are you gonna tell me what was on your mind earlier today?"

You freeze at his keen observation, averting your gaze in an attempt to skirt it, "I– It was nothing. Just stupid stuff. I'm over it though, so don't worry about it."

"I wouldn't worry about it if you looked in my eye while you said that," your boyfriend catches you again, firm arm bringing you closer to him, "Come on, sweet, let me in. What's wrong?"

You sigh in defeat. "You're too smart. And if you must know, I was just overthinking our age gap."

"Age gap? You mean that I was born 9 months after you?"

You glare at him, "Okay, I don't appreciate your fact-based attacks on my weaknesses. And an age gap is an age gap. It's my first time being with someone younger."

"So it's natural to feel weird," he completes your thought for you, "But you've always been so chill about it, what made this come up?"

"Not sure," you wonder yourself, "I've been feeling older recently. Even though my birthday was a month ago. I don't know, I feel like I'm not responsible enough sometimes, especially with you– I don't want to make you do everything."

"You don't," Wonbin brushes a thumb against your cheek. "You're always checking up on me, Y/N. And you're the one who made sure we were always communicating with each other, even about the small things. I think you'd pass the old soul check any day."

You chuckle softly at your boyfriend's reassurance, "You're not wrong. But you're sure I'm… enough?"

Wonbin frowns at your concern, "Hey, now that's a bigger issue than our age gap. Of course– You're more than enough, Y/N. Did you not hear me earlier? I can't imagine not being with you. That means, I can't imagine living without you. I'm like the luckiest guy to have managed to get you in bed with me. I'm serious, you turned my life around when you ruined my favorite shirt that day–"

"And I've apologized endlessly about it–"

"You're the reason I'm not a loner, following Sungchan around all the time because he's the only one who doesn't think of me as a stuck-up idiot. I love you so much."

"Okay, okay, I think I get it," you stop him, hand on your chest when he keeps snuggling closer, lips a breath away from your skin. "I'm not thinking those thoughts anymore, babe. I know you love me. I love you, too."

"Good," he pecks your nose, "But I have to say, you're hot when your older side comes out. Watching you cook me dinner was an experience I'm not forgetting anytime soon."

"I guess I better do it more then," you tease him, fingers running through his soft hair, "I'll go on a grocery run later this week. Cook you that stir-fry you wanted, huh?"

"If you're trying to get into my pants right now, congrats, you've made it," Wonbin laughs, cheeks warm at your bold promise. "But yes please, and can I come grocery shopping with you?"

"Sure you won't get bored? Grocery shopping is a boring adult chore, you know–"

"Okay, I don't think you're allowed to use your age to belittle me–"

"Or what? You're gonna get mad at me?"

"I hate you– I'm gonna go home if you're gonna–"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, babe, come back!"