#the rhythm of this feels important to me

[pencap]

the coward's way out

if the fates conspire that only one of us may live, then lover, it must be you.

i will save you the grand speeches about how you are good and deserving. you are. you are. you are, but in the end, that is not the reason why.

the world may call me brave or strong or selfless but lover, you know the truth don't you?

in the end, i am only more afraid of facing a world without you than i am of facing death of facing anything.

in the end, i am only too weak to be the one left behind to pick up the pieces of a broken life a broken promise a broken heart and keep on bleeding when the blood in your heart is already dry.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry. but will you let me be selfish one last time?

can i ask you to live for me? to face what i feared most so that i might find peace in my eternal sleep with a smile upon my face?

if it is cruel of me to ask, then i beg you to forgive me. or curse my name and hate me if you must, only live.

only live, my lover so that my life and my death and all that came in between may mean something. may mean everything.

[catmask]

does anyone have like an anti aesthetic. like something you look at and can recognize as a complete fashion/interior design/artistic movement and understand it but it makes you shudder seeing it. i am not talking like “its morally bad” “its poorly structured” like just sheerly devoid of joy for you actually invites a repulse response.

[hajihiko]

Another silly

[idon-twannabeperceived]

Btw seeing gringos trying to dance tango or salsa is so 🫥🫥

Like I don't mind at all bro go off but like put some flavor in there I AM BEGGING i swear u won't die WHERE IS YOUR SOUL DO YOU NOT HAVE A HEART

[kuromi-hoemie]

ooooh im so happy i got back into music.. hours spent here never feels like a day wasted

[good-beanswrites]

My Lyrics for Eve's Demon Dance Tokyo! This song jumped the line of wips, I immediately fell in love with it 😂 I'm really proud of these -- it worked out well and was a blast to sing :D (Lyrics under the cut and my rambly process commentary in the tags lol)

Ah, don't you miss the home from where you came?

So many memories, feel your mind FLY FAR AWAY.

Tread-tread-tread-tread memories in tow,

INSTANT-PARADISE TOKYO.

Humans with such strange STYLE, all confusing me to no end

Jealous of them; wanna join them;

Credentials and such be damned. JUST GIVE ME (a)

SUPERMODEL TO DATE, wouldn't that be lovely?

CAMERAs are my place to be.

STYLE won't you come to me.

Ah, my voice as well has BEAUTIFUL SOUNDS, I’M LOVING IT.

You and me set side by side, I'll face you if you'll risk it.

Now I'm starving! Carefully as possible,

I'll consume you! Thorn-covered and poison-full,

Eating until I feel fed. "I'll have one of each," I said.

Grow wild! The worst follows AFTER BAD.

We'll fall down! Crashing parties that they had.

Conversations charge ahead: the turning point OF THE DEAD.

Endlessly I'm feeling coerced into everything.

Thump, thump, my heart --

Knock, Knock, my heart unlocks, love thump thump thumping like an arrow that's notched.

That dress looks so nice, does it feel too tight?

Now, you lead the way, to each command I will agree.

Do you think he's cool? Do you think he's lame?

It's all the same, let's dance BARRIER FREE.

SHOWTIME starting now, you can't allow yourself to sway.

Shed your worries and their weight, flying fast and far away.

We, the ones the world will never hold in high esteem

Never need to offer flattery, all we do is dream.

Now I’m starving! Even more voraciously

I'll consume you! Opening my arms you'll see

No one can take you from me, you're mine for eternity

Grow wild! Drinking more than I enjoy

We'll fall down! Stumbling I feel destroyed, these city nights show me I'm

A disappearing BOY.

We, the ones the world will never know or write about,

Now, to vast Pacific waters you will hear us shout... (SHAKE'N)

Please, wait a moment, Beautiful. Where is your smile from before?

Are you so sure I can't see that face anymore?

A strong PRIME MINISTER for you is what I became.

I swear to God I'll protect the country called by your name.

If we're close to Hell, never say farewell, please keep your hand holding mine.

I want to dance with you forever, won't you look me in the eye.

Now I'm starving! As ashamed as possible,

I'll consume you! Thorn-covered and poison-full,

Eating until I feel fed. "I'll have one of each," I said.

Grow wild! Gimme an ADVENTURE

We'll fall down! Crashing parties that occur.

This sleepless night, it bores me. SPICE is what it needs.

Now I’m starving! Even more voraciously

I'll consume you! Opening my arms you'll see

No one can take you from me, you're mine for eternity

Grow wild! Drinking more than I enjoy

We'll fall down! Stumbling I feel destroyed, these city nights show me I'm

A disappearing BOY.

And I recorded a little draft! Now listen. I'm really bad at singing. My mic was being annoying. However, I always get frustrated when I can't tell how translyrics are supposed to sound, and wanted to put it all together. It's meant more as rhythm reference than a nice performance 😅

[mosspapi]

Me at my appointment this afternoon when the doctor lady asked what my heart rate usually is: well I don't have like. An Overall Average but I can tell u the range it has from today?

Her: sure

Me: ok, since midnight it's been between 53 and 135

Her: *one of the most confused, mildly horrified faces I have seen in a hot minute*

[sanstropfremir]

Bot sure if i sent this before *but* what do you think about the role fashion plays in kpop currently. I watched a video comapring new groups to older groups in the sense that older groups had more of a cohesive identity when brand deals and High fashion didnt play as big of a role in performances. I tend to agree. Lots of new groups wear the same few fashion pieces in different ways but its become “oh i saw x wearing this too!” Instead of themed outfits that matched with concepts.

i did actually write a post about my opinions on luxury branding a while ago that i can't for the life of me find again, but basically yes to all of that. most current kpop stylists are actually very bad at their jobs from a design point of view. luxury and designer branding is very commonly used shorthand for 'look this is good because it's expensive!' without any thought on 1) the holistic design of the cb itself, and 2) what the connotations of branding has on that cb. the best working stylist in kpop atm is a.c.e's stylist, who works on a budget of like $50 and whatever she can find in the beat int closet, so therefore her creativity is through the fucking ROOF. there's only one group where excessive luxury branding actually works in their favour and with their concept, and that's wayv, the reasons why i've talked about a lot already so i won't go into it again.

to elabourate a little bit more on what i think about it specifically though, i think when we talk about 'fashion' in kpop we're not actually seeing it used to it's fullest extent. i would never go so far to say that no stylists should ever use something from a designer or luxury brand, but none of these stylist are actually using the GOOD work from those designers and brands. the luxury styling that gets used in most kpop is the ready to wear commercial stuff, which just further feeds the capitalist machine and never fully realizes the artistic potential of the more haute couture or even just the more unusual brands. we've had some brushes with it, like when aron showed up in a gmbh shirt for a needle&bubble teaser photo, or like taemin popularizing loverboy, but imo it's not enough. i'll be happy when i start seeing idols in schiaparelli

[autism-disco]

music(als) (screaming)

falsettos specifically (screaming louder)

[sophieswundergarten]

(This was really fun! Got one more for you before I head to bed: 💤?)

This really was great!! I feel so much better about using this character now, and I'm glad I got to provide some entertainment for you, Anon!! Sleep well :)

💤 What's their sleep schedule like?

Lyn sleeps as near to seven hours a day as she can. When these hours occur changes depending on what's happening. Intellectually she understands that sleep is important, but also part of her likes to think she can push it off and just... be fine

We'll see if she learns better

She has a habit of unpacking and repacking her bag every night before she sleeps, though, to ensure everything's still there and nothing needs immediate attention/repairs

[fakebwitch]

rafe encourages you to keep riding him…

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

your mouth open trying to catch your breath, your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as your movements slowed, your legs numb, and rafe's cock was buried in your pussy. after riding him for what seemed like an infinite amount of time you stopped by sitting on his cock, its tip hitting your cervix, you let out a soft whimper feeling it throb inside you.

you found yourself in this situation because of you. your pussy aching for him, needing to feel his cock inside, begging him all day long for attention and when he finally gave in you thought he was going to fuck you, but instead he let you do all the work. he sat there, his hand barely on your thigh, waiting for you to ride him without giving you any help.

you tried to speak, but nothing that made the slightest sense came out of your mouth. your head already dizzy as you found yourself getting more and more needy wanting to reach your orgasm. rafe looked at you for a few seconds, his eyes half-closed as he felt your pussy tighten around him, “what is it?”he asked you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“i'm tired...” you managed to get out of your slurred mouth, your voice dim and weak as you moved your hips slowly, trying to find a clutch, his cock hard inside you and you desperately wanted to move but couldn't. rafe shook his head as his eyes moved downward, watching the way your pussy was fully sunk on his cock. all day long you had been so bratty, interrupting him as he was doing his work, filling out and reading important forms, begging him that you needed him, his cock, to feel him inside you, teasing him with mischievous touches, and when he had given you what you had been begging him for all day, you weren’t even grateful.

stopping after just five minutes, hoping that he would pound himself into you. rafe had figured it out early on, when he had told you that you were going to ride him, that you were not happy about it, a pout evident on your face but you tried not to show it, in the end you still got his cock.

“you can do it princess” he incited you starting to lose his patience, the grip of his hand on your thigh tightened slightly, also eager to feel your hot tight pussy sucking him in, but he was determined to let you do all the work, he had to fight against himself not to hammer himself inside you. he knew it was all a plan of your to get him to take charge, but your attitude would not work this time.

rafe wasn't pleased when you didn't respond, the hand he had on your thigh went up slightly, his thumb and forefinger tightened around the soft skin, you let out a grunt of pain as his fingers pinched your skin tightly, “c'mon baby, move” he exhaled, his fingers still clenching your skin. you nodded lightly starting to pick up the pace, riding his cock as you threw your head back.

a tear ran down your cheek, ending on your lower lip, the pain of his pinching mixed with the way his cock was stretching you so well, repeatedly hitting your cervix, were enough to push you to the edge. your eyes closed as your mouth was wide open, continuous moans escaped your lips.

“so good baby, takin' it so well” he praised you as his fingers let go of the skin of your thigh, a red mark visible on the freshly pinched spot, and within a few hours it would become a nice big bruise. “wasn't that difficult, right?” he said mocking you as his hand tightened around your tit, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“fuuck” a big moan escaped your lips as your hands rested on his chest seeking support, your rhythm fast and deep, feeling every vein of his cock pulsing inside you.

“fuck that's right, keep going baby... such a good girl for me” he praised you as a slap landed on your ass, rafe’s head turned back enjoying the full pleasure of the warm wet walls of your pussy, squeezing and wetting his length.

[suguru-getos]

bnha men when you use the safeword: fem!reader

characters included: bakugou, hawks (my 2 pookies)

bakugou katsuki:

it was hectic, the feeling of it all. at first you’d even say it was feeling good, but with the way katsuki’s amped up stamina was nowhere near done on your body, you could start to lose yourself a little. katsuki had just come back from a business trip, he missed you… you missed him too. but the way his cock plunged into your sopping wet pussy, smirking and unraveling your insides every single time… it was starting to ache. especially when he bred you twice already, forced into a mating press and forced to hear the churning sounds of his seed inside you bubbling out with his mushroom tip abusing your poor hole. “kats-“ you mumble, nails indenting over his skin & making it raw. “suki…” words fail you, there is nothing you can do or say for this. you want this to stop, your body can’t take it anymore. “s- suki…” you whimpered again. katsuki’s brows are glistening with sweat, he smirks at you, his genuine, loving smirk as he leans in and kisses you again. your lips smashed against his. “my pretty girl.” katsuki coos, but his pace, his cock isn’t being so nice. and you can’t take it anymore.

“door.” its just silly how you and katsuki decided the safeword term. not creative at all, you just glanced at the door while discussing it with him & this is the first time you’ve ever used it anyway.

there is an instant stop in his movements, siren eyes widened in utter shock. “princess? y’ okay?” the position is instantly adjusted to you laying down comfortably, your swollen cunt parting with his veinny cock as he leans back, kissing your cheek, your forehead. “s’ that too much f’ my baby?” he almost pouts with complete genuineness, looking at you and waiting for you to speak. his warm palms reflexively massaging your forearm and kneading at your body to provide comfort. “sorry- just- got too much for me.” you pouted, tears welling up in your eyes.

“shut up, stop apologizin’ cmere.” katsuki is quick to shun that bit from you, craddling you in his arms instantly. he knows aftercare is important or you’ll fall into submission drop. “my good girl~ so proud of you, you know that? cus’ y’ communicated when it didn’t feel good.” he nuzzles his nose against yours, a bright grin over his face. “my pretty girl.” he echoed that over and over, kissing all over your cute body and hugging you closer, wrapped around in a blanket burrito. get ready to be babied until you get annoyed of him. 💅🏻

keigo takami:

there is an eerie streak that has keigo’s head in a haze to pleasure you tonight. he normally gets in on those, but you’re just so delectable, so beautiful looking with your desperate squirming and mewling when his feathers clamp around your nipple and when his tongue fucks your pussy and flicks your clit with a rhythm perfect for your body — it’s hard to stop. it’s always been hard for keigo to stop playing with his little prey.

“ssh- stop moving around little one.” your squirming and moans are chastised by your man instantly. feathers clamping and spreading your legs apart as he grins. leaning in and continuing with his favorite meal. he’s already made you orgasm twice, and this is the third time he’s pushing your boundaries. “not my problem you taste so divine.” he grunts, nose nuzzling against your poor, swollen clit as he softly nips at your inner thigh.

the next thing which happens has your eyes widened and mouth agape, his thumb spreads your pussy lips and the tip of his tongue leans back your clit’s hood, flicking and vibrating around the exposed & vulnerable bundle of nerves with vigour. “AH- oh no.” you shake your head, this makes you feel queasy. this makes you feel sensitive and sends jolts of good pain down your pelvis. you don’t want that pain, the foreign feeling catching up to you rapidly.

“keigo- no.” you whine, struggling to no avail. you always mumble these things and you know its hard for keigo to take you seriously around this. “feather.” you squealed the safeword out. all of hawks’ movements stop. the feathers wrapped around your ankles and your hands let you go instantly. his marked eyes widening and leaning away. “oh-“ his lips parted.

you didn’t feel like you were comfortable enough with this, that’s all there was. maybe you misused the safeword. are you even a good partner to him? before your doubt flourishes into something rooting deep, keigo hugs you gently, letting you straddle his lap and his wings forming a cocoon around you. “ssh~ there there, sorry it got too much for my little baby.” he hums, kissing the crown of your head.

“just. got uncomfy.” you mumbled, sniffling softly. “maybe i shouldn’t-“

“of course you should have, there is a reason safewords are created sweetness. and if you didn’t feel comfortable you had every right to use this. okay?” keigo coos, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly. his ragged breaths slowly calming down at the embrace of his mate. even your bubbling doubts vanished quickly as keigo swayed you gently in his hug, humming a random tune of the favorite song you have.

“too bad you don’t have a safeword to stop me from singing.” he hums, after minutes of comfortable silence and snorts. your silly liddul pookie <3

[peapod20001]

When I love a song, I’ll love it forever

[motomamita]

bestfriend!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, emotional manipulation, sex!

imagine being the only person who showed up to könig's birthday party.

it was just you and him, in his house, with a lot of drinks and food that he himself had bought to celebrate. the sound of the clock on the ceiling seemed to stun you and he remained dejected, with a half-drunk can of beer.

you knew that könig had invited more people, people who had pretended to be his friends throughout the semester to humiliate him on such an important day for him. you could see on his face how much he regretted having trusted them, and at the same time how grateful he was that at least you, his best friend, had shown up.

"come on kö, don't feel bad. we can have fun just the same, just us!"

apparently you were naive enough not to notice how weird könig was in general. he hardly talked to anyone, and when he did, he would make comments that were out of place and a bit offensive to others. but you couldn't blame him no matter how hard you tried and ignored your friends' warnings about him.

"what a shitty birthday.."

he murmured as you lit the candles on his birthday cake that you had baked especially for him.

"don't say that, come on, make a wish."

you moved his cake closer to him, letting the candlelight illuminate his masculine, scarred face and cold gaze.

"i don't think my wish will ever come true."

"what? tell me, maybe i can help you!"

upon hearing you, könig did not hesitate to tell you: he wanted to lose his damn virginity with you.

you hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what you had just heard. his eyes filled with tears that he didn’t try to hide and he looked into your eyes begging you to help him make his wish come true. what else could you do? his day was already disappointing enough without you leaving him alone with a huge erection in his pants. you had to help him.

in a matter of seconds you were lying on the table, your skirt pulled up to your waist and könig on top of you fucking you clumsily. his cock entered you roughly and without rhythm, in a very inexperienced way. some strands of his hair fell on your face and his eyes never stopped looking at you.

"you're the best friend any man could wish to have... your pussy feels so good."

könig clumsily grabbed your breasts over your clothes and pinched your nipples. you moaned in pain but didn't try to run away or push him away, you wanted his birthday to end well.

it only took a couple of deep, slow thrusts for könig to end up inside you, moaning your name and kissing your mouth and face. you hugged him by the shoulders, pulling him towards you and letting him sob with pleasure on your neck.

"this is the best birthday of my entire life."

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ shades of cool ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? and a part three, ultraviolence.

˚ ༘♡ you stirred, the weight of consciousness creeping back in like a slow, unwelcome sensation. the first thing you noticed was the pain, not sharp, but dull and ever-present, pulsing from your leg in as a painful remnant of what had happened. your eyes fluttered open, and the room before you swam into view, blurred and unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ soft, warm light illuminated the bedroom, the golden glow radiating off polished wood and gilded accents. the room was lavish beyond imagination. silk curtains hung in folds along the high windows, their rich, deep hue a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets covering you. the bed beneath you was impossibly soft, its headboard ornate and meticulously carved.

˚ ༘♡ it didn’t feel real.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze dropped to your leg, your breath hitching at the sight of thick, pristine bandages wrapped around your injured knee. the ache was dulled, numbed, and for a minute you thought it was a dream, until the frigid tug of an iv in your arm brought you fully into reality. clear tubing snaked its way from the crook of your elbow to a stand beside the bed, the consistent drip of fluid into your veins the only sound in the unnerving quiet.

˚ ༘♡ panic set in as you scanned the room for answers. sleek medical monitors blinked softly in the corner, their digital hum an eerie companion to the slow rhythm of your heartbeat displayed on the screen. the pure cleanliness of it all, no blood, no chaos, no grimy stairwells, was jarring.

˚ ༘♡ the door creaked open.

˚ ༘♡ your body tensed instantly, your hands gripping the sheets as you turned toward the sound. standing in the doorway was young-il, but something about him was different. he was dressed head to toe in onyx-black now, the sharp lines of his attire immaculate, his presence nearly unrecognizable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in your throat as a sensation of horror surged through your body. you struggled to push yourself up, wincing as the motion sent a jolt of pain through your leg. “you bastard,” you spat, your voice hoarse and trembling with both fury and anguish. “what the hell is this? what did you do?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression was undisturbed, his face composed, as though he hadn’t betrayed you, shot you, and left you to bleed out. his voice was soft when he spoke, almost gentle. “you’re safe now.”

˚ ༘♡ safe? the word felt like an insult, a mockery of everything he had done. “safe?” you snapped, your voice rising despite the weakness in your body. “you shot me! you killed them! where are jung-bae and gi-hun? what happened to them?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, the pause heavy with unspoken truths. “their fate… isn’t yours to worry about,” he said at last, his tone measured, deliberately vague. the non-answer only stoked the fire of your anger, your hands clenching into fists.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t give me that nonsense,” you grimaced. “tell me what happened to them!”

˚ ༘♡ his gaze softened, as if he pitied you. it made your stomach twist. “you’ll have your answers in time,” he said evenly. “but for now, there’s something more important you need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ your chest heaved with ragged breaths as you glared at him, the venom in your gaze meeting his unnervingly tranquil demeanor. “and what’s that?”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor, enveloping you in its reach. “my name isn’t young-il,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undertone that made your pallid skin crawl. “it’s hwang in-ho. i am the front man, the overseer of these games.”

˚ ༘♡ his words hit you as though it was a physical blow, the weight of their meaning sinking in too slowly, too horribly. your jaw slackened as confusion, revulsion, and fear collided within you. you shook your head, as if denying the truth could erase it.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “no, that can’t be…”

˚ ༘♡ “it is,” he interrupted, his tone kind, almost soothing, as though he were breaking news to a child. “i know it’s a lot to process, but it’s the truth. everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve seen, it all leads back to me.”

˚ ༘♡ his serenity, his gentleness, only made it worse. you stared at him, horrified, unable to reconcile the man before you with the one who had saved your life, who had stood by your side, who you thought you could trust. your heart pounded in your chest, a desperate beating of denial as his revelation sent cracks through your already fragile world.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your mind frantically trying to stitch together some coherent explanation for what he was saying. every word felt like a jagged shard, cutting into what little remained of your trust. the man you thought you knew had unraveled into someone monstrous, someone you couldn’t even begin to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “you want answers,” he said quietly, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. his hands rested at his sides, his posture unnervingly relaxed. “then let me give them to you.”

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t reply, your throat too tight to push out words. the tremor in your hands betrayed the dread coursing through you, though you tried to mask it with a glare that had lost its edge.

˚ ༘♡ he let out a desolate breath, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to yours. “a long time ago, i was no different from you or any other contestant for these games. i was desperate, clinging to whatever hope i could find. my wife…” his voice caught, for a split second, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. “she was pregnant, but she was sick. we didn’t have the money for the treatments she needed. i tried everything, loans, work, begging. nothing was enough.”

˚ ༘♡ you felt a pang of unease, the words pulling at a part of you that didn’t want to empathize, didn’t want to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “when i heard about the games, i saw no other choice,” he continued. “i thought… if i could win, i could save her. i convinced myself it was worth it. the blood, the horror, it would all be justified if it meant saving her.” his eyes grew distant, as though he were watching memories play out before him, each one dragging him deeper into a place he didn’t want to go.

˚ ༘♡ “and you won,” you said bitterly, though your voice lacked strength. the image of him standing victorious in those games twisted your stomach, making you sick. “so why are you here? why are you doing this to other people?”

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening. “i won,” he admitted, his tone heavy with something you couldn’t name. “despite my efforts, my win and the prize money came too late. she died, and so did the baby… our baby. nothing i had done mattered, not the lives i’d taken, not the suffering i endured. it was all for nothing.”

˚ ༘♡ the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, but it was the coldness in his eyes that terrified you. it was as though the memory of that loss had hollowed him out, leaving behind only shards of the man he once was.

˚ ༘♡ “after she died,” he said, “i had nothing. no one. those behind the games saw that. they saw what i had become, angry, empty, ready to do whatever it took to escape the emptiness. they offered me purpose, a chance to rebuild myself in their ideology. and i took it.”

˚ ༘♡ his admission hung in the air, suffocating and heavy. you wanted to scream at him, to ask how he could justify becoming the very thing that destroyed him, but the words wouldn’t leave your lips.

˚ ༘♡ “and you…” his voice mellowed, and for the first time, his mask of stability cracked only slightly. “you remind me of her. not simply for how you look, but… the way you care. the way you fight, even when everything is against you. there’s a tender beauty in you that i haven’t seen in any soul for years.”

˚ ༘♡ his words sent a chill down your spine. notion idea that he saw any part of his late wife in you was unbearable. you stared at him, horrified, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all you saw was the unsettling truth of his sincerity.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you whispered, your voice quivering with rage. “don’t you dare compare me to your dead wife. don’t you dare use her memory to excuse what you’ve done.”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t flinch, though something appeared in his expression, regret, perhaps, or something deeper. “i’m not excusing it,” he said quietly. “i know what i’ve become. but it doesn’t change what i see.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words pressed down on you. the man standing before you wasn’t just a stranger, he was a nightmare, a ghost of the person he once was, and you couldn’t decide which was worse.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t reconcile the man before you with the one who had pulled you out of the fire so many times before. the one who had shielded you, consoled you when you were hurt, and risked his life to save yours. even as he revealed the truth, this sinister, unfathomable truth, a part of you couldn’t forget the way his hands had steadied you in instances of chaos or the way he had spoken to you with warmth when everything else had been so cold.

˚ ༘♡ yet that part of you, small as it was, waged a bitter war with your anger and disgust. you couldn’t ignore what he’d done, what he was. you had seen him kill without hesitation, betray without remorse. yet somehow, despite everything, the memory of his quiet acts of care gnawed at your resolve, complicating the clarity of your rage.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you demanded, your voice cracking under the weight of everything. “why did you save me if you were just going to do this? why did you act like you cared?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, and for a second, the cold, calculating overseer seemed to fade. in his place was the man who had once held your hand, who had spoken with a gentleness that felt so real you couldn’t dismiss it entirely. “because i do care,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “more than you know.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “you don’t get to say that,” you whispered, your voice quivering with misery and despair. “not after everything you’ve done. you don’t get to care.”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, the weight of his presence filling the space between you. you wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, frozen in place. “i know what i am,” he said softly, his tone stable yet tinged with something raw. “i know what i’ve done. but that doesn’t make what i feel for you any less real.”

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you murmured, though the word came out weak, your anger faltering under the intensity of his dark gaze. “don’t try to make this about me. you’re just trying to justify…”

˚ ༘♡ “i’m not,” he interrupted, his voice firm but quiet. “i’m not trying to justify anything. i… i couldn’t lose you.”

˚ ༘♡ the confession hung in the air, heavy and morose. you wanted to lash out, to shout at him, to tell him that his words didn’t change anything. but instead, you found yourself searching his face, looking for the lie, the manipulation. and you didn’t find it.

˚ ༘♡ you hated him, but you couldn’t deny that you had trusted him, even cared for him, before the truth came crashing down. those memories, tainted by what you knew now, lingered like ghosts, haunting you in ways you couldn’t escape.

˚ ༘♡ “you don’t get to feel that way about me,” you said, though your voice wavered, lacking the conviction you wanted it to carry.

˚ ༘♡ “i know,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering, his closeness almost unbearable. “but i do.”

˚ ༘♡ before you could think, before you could stop it, he leaned in. the world seemed to still as his face drew closer, his presence overwhelming. you hated him, you loathed him, but the confusion, the anger, the lingering warmth of the man you thought you knew muddled everything.

˚ ༘♡ when his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft or careful. it was desperate, a confession in itself, and against your better judgment, against every screaming thought in your head, you didn’t pull away. instead, you let the infatuation consume you, the bitterness, the anger, the ache of betrayal melding together into something raw and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ when it broke, you were left shaking, your breaths uneven as you stared at him, your heart pounding with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name. you hated him, but lord, you hated how much you wanted to understand him even more.

a/n: you all asked for another part so i had to write part four!! i had a cosmetic procedure that requires me to stay home for a few days so if you have any requests, this is the time!! i hope you all loved reading!! 🤍

[fushiguro-megloomy]

strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated. 

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could. 

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor” 

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft  tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

-

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

-

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long. 

-

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024