#there’s a balance I can find and maintain

[itachiiwrites]

𐙚 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄¡!

cw. 18+ flithy smut, Sub!Gojo, Dom!Reader, Enemies to lovers, gojo is a virgin and the word loser is used a lot.

AcademicRival!Satoru believed he'll have a merry time getting paired with you for your upcoming assignment, afterall, you were fun to pick on and he adored the way the vein would pop on your forehead after he says something to completely throw you off the tracks. His plan was to make you do all the work while he gets on your nerves to pass his time.

Satoru prides himself in being jack of all trades, he's the captain of the collegiate basketball team, student body president, has 4.0 GPA in his astrophysics major and is on the dean's list, his stunning good looks were to kill for and to add to those never ending positive attributes he's filthy rich, if it wasn't so obvious by his sports car's raging engine whenever he drifts it around in the campus. Gojo Satoru was a star. Gojo Satoru was game.

Admirers and people lining up for him was no big of a deal, it is the routine when you're him. You're one of the many people who find him fascinating, find him attractive (which was something you would never admit to, even if a ceiling fell over you) but still, why was he shaking his legs underneath the table while he watches the furrow of your brow focused on the screen in his dorm room? He's way too distracted to read this paper about Aesthetics and Marxism—he only took up sociology because it was a humanities requirement within his course and also because he was utterly, out of his mind bored.

Feeling the burning gaze of his abnormally blue eyes, you slam your fist onto the table and anyone who was in their right mind would be able to decipher that your expression was twisted in unfiltered annoyance, the mask of a small, pleasant smile as your veins popped on your forehead was failing miserably. "We could get a lot done if you didn't think this was a staring contest"

"Wow, really? I did think it was a staring contest with how boring all this is" He mocked knowing it would only agitate you further, his eyes shamelessly trailed over the plushness of your thighs and how the skirt fabric sat on top of it, his thoughts were digressing, wondering about the colour of your pant—

"What are you looking at, pervert..?" You point it out to break the unholy chain of his thoughts immediately, his eyes widened by being caught off-guard, evading away to focus on the papers in front of him, lasering his eyes to aim at understand at whatever 'Russian constructivism' meant, his fist gripped the pencil tighter and tighter as he felt unbelievably panicked at being caught, the trance of embarrassment breaking away along with a sharp 'snap' of the pencil.

With a faltering attempt to maintain his cockiness, Satoru looked at you. "Just looking at how much of a loser you look, even broke a pencil because it's annoying how nerdy you dress" a painful roll of his eyes followed by, but his ventures to cover the way he felt were too poor and what was the parameter? The goddamned seductive smile on your pretty lips.

Gojo Satoru was game, but he was a fucking virgin.

"Lying is not going to save your ass, I can literally see the tent in your pants, what are you..a teenager..?" The mockery in your eyes and the superiority you had over him in that very moment was enough to make him let go of his guards and feel his knees buck. You were beautiful and he was so pathetically down bad for that.

"Unlike you, I have many things to excel at..who has time for something as stupid as this anyway" You had to give some kudos for the fact that his voice remained balanced despite the throbbing erection in his pants, and you made a face with slanting pursed lips that was to show him you believed him, although anyone could tell you didn't.

"what is with that face? You think you're better than me? What do you know about sex, having your cute nose burried in those stupid books all day.." And that statement makes you raise your brow, Satoru Gojo, called you cute? This was something, this was when he knew he messed up and you had all the power.

"Why don't I show it to you then? You wanna be a loser in this one area? Come on.. you're better than that, right?" Satoru gulped, the offer was beyond tempting, all those fantasies he ran his mind for while wrapping his hand around his cock in his dark dorm room, relieving himself while yearning for the warmth for your mouth and cunt—finally had the chance to be fleshed out to life. It was tempting indeed but what about his ego?

"Sure, I bet you suck at this too" He huffed a laugh with his faux confidence, only to be miserably proved wrong within a few minutes.

"Please— fuck! Your mouth feels so good.." He breathed heavily with an almost violent rise and fall of his chest, his legs sprawled wide as he was on the couch of his room and you, his beautiful arch-nemesis was skillfully using his cock like it was your personal toy. Satoru didn't feel he was being sucked off for his pleasure, he was being sucked off to be proven of the fact that you were in control here.

He reached his trembling hands to tangle within your locks as you let a thick glob of your spit fall onto his tip with a grin, tantalisingly rubbing it on your glossed lips. "Better than your stupid fist right?" And he moans at that degradation, his eyes marbeling with glassy tears, your pride swelled more than anything.

"Ever seen tits in real life? Or are you that much of a loser to have Inoue Waka as your wallpaper.." You teased further, unbuttoning your blouse and unfastening your bra from the front to spill out your breasts and Satoru's brain simply short circuits the moment the cushiness of your tits gather around his cock and he feels the tightening sting on his abdomen, dripping out loads of his cum onto your tits, painting you like the masterpiece you were with thick ribbons of his ejaculate.

You hum, licking a long strip from his base, swirling your hot tongue around his softening, sensitive frenum as he is limp by the pleasure.

"There's no way you're this good.." He spoke, almost sounding as if something unbelievable happened, almost angry.

"Such a good boy 'Toru.." You giggle in response, kissing his abdomen and he feels pathetically, helplessly in love with you.

Gojo Satoru was game, but you were a roulette.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (4)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 3.3k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: forced proximity, jungkook is emotionally constipated, OC is clueless.

A/N: I really hope that fans of "Gilmore Girls" come across this story, because the town hall meeting scene is entirely inspired by the show. I’ve tried to capture the same essence and energy, so I hope you can envision it just like it's depicted in the series, with all the quirky charm and fast-paced dialogues etc etc. that said, I feel like things are about to take a dramatic turn. what do we think? ;)

part 4: mixing the grease with the soil

As the days slip by, the tension between you and Jungkook has become an unspoken constant, like the hum of a distant engine, always there, always humming beneath the surface. It’s an unyielding stalemate neither of you seems willing to break, as if maintaining the distance is safer, easier, less likely to damage the delicate balance of your lives.

But then, without warning, subtle shifts begin to take place. Jungkook’s friends, once notorious for crowding your shop’s entrance with their gleaming motorcycles, now park further down the street. The loud laughter, the sharp revving of engines that used to echo through your workspace, disrupting your day, have faded into memory. The newfound peace feels like a long-overdue truce, and while it doesn’t erase the tension, it’s a welcome relief.

Your encounters with his friends Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi have settled into something almost cordial. A nod here, a wave there, brief exchanges that are polite but still distant. It’s enough to keep things civil, but when it comes to Jungkook, there’s no such middle ground. You don’t greet him, and he doesn’t acknowledge you. It’s a silent agreement to maintain the distance between you two.

Yet, for Jungkook, the distance isn’t as simple as it once was. The quiet animosity, the unresolved arguments, the invisible barrier between you guys—they all weigh heavier on him now. He can’t put his finger on it, but your presence has started to linger in his mind in ways that unsettle him. It gnaws at him, a persistent whisper he can’t ignore.

He finds himself noticing things he shouldn’t. The way your hair falls into your face while you’re tending to flowers. The way your laugh rings out when your friends visit, lighting up your features in a way he can't help but admire. His eyes find you before he even realizes he’s looking, and it infuriates him how easily you captivate him, how effortlessly you draw his attention without even trying.

It started small. A passing glance as he worked on a bike outside his shop. Then, the details began to add up. Like last week, when he saw you laughing with your friends outside. He’s pieced together their names now, after observing from a distance.

The man who visited your shop that day, the one who elicited the first genuine smile he ever saw on your face, is Taehyung. An artist, Jungkook suspects, given the occasional specks of paint adorning his clothes, arms, or sometimes even his cheek.

Then there was Namjoon and Seokjin or at least that's what he thinks their names are. Their exact roles in your life are a mystery to him, but they tower over most people with their astonishing heights and they mostly show up late, long after your closing hours, often bringing you food or whisking you away in their cars for reasons he can only imagine.

And then there’s a girl, Juwon, who seems to frequent your shop the most. Sometimes she buys flowers; other times, she simply lounges inside, waiting for you to finish your work.

Jungkook feels ridiculous for how much he’s noticed. He shouldn’t care about the details of your life or the people in it, yet he finds himself drawn to them, piecing together bits of your world from snippets of conversation and stolen glances. Even the sound of your laugh, carefree and genuine, has a way of pulling his focus no matter how hard he tries to ignore it.

It hits him in unexpected moments��how beautiful you look when you laugh, how your smile seems to brighten everything around you. And in those moments, he feels the tension between you two fade away, replaced by something softer, something he doesn’t want to acknowledge. You look happy, and it stirs something deep within him, something he wishes he could suppress.

He doesn’t know why it matters so much. Why does it bother him that he’s not the one making you smile? Why does it sting to see you so effortlessly connect with others when he feels so distant from you?

He always tears his gaze away, forcing himself to focus on the bike in front of him, but it’s futile. The image of your smile lingers, a persistent flicker in the back of his mind.

The ease with which you interact with the people around you only serves to highlight the chasm between you. You’re kind, approachable, a natural at making others feel at ease. And Jungkook? He feels like an outsider, watching from the shadows, wrestling with feelings he doesn’t understand and can’t seem to shake.

Why is it so difficult to be around you? Why does everything feel so impossibly complicated? The questions haunt him, their answers elusive, leaving him restless and frustrated with a distance he doesn’t know how to bridge.

But what you don’t notice is the quiet way Jungkook has begun to weave himself into your life, his actions subtle, small gestures that he hopes will somehow make up for the things left unsaid between you two.

Like that one time you were struggling to move a heavy bag of soil into your shop and he pretended not to notice, yet somehow, when you turned around to get something else, it was already sitting inside, untouched by your hands. Or the way he’s started parking his bike just far enough away so that it doesn’t block your view of the flowers from the shop window, as though he’s silently trying to make your space feel a little more yours, and a little less his.

He never says a word, never acknowledges the thought behind it. He simply continues working, silently apologizing in a way that only he understands.

And then there’s the smallest, most hidden gesture of all: the way he wipes his hands clean on a rag before leaving the garage to walk past your shop at the exact moment you’re working outside. His steps slow just enough for you to think he’s passing through casually, but if you weren't so oblivious, you’d see the way his gaze lingers just a second too long on you, a silent question hanging in the air that neither of you have the courage to ask.

It’s as if, in every small action, he’s trying to show you something... something you can’t quite see, something he can’t quite say.

//

It’s a quiet morning when Mr. Kwon, a man in his early 60s and also the town head, steps into your shop, his polished shoes clicking against the wooden floor as he heads towards the counter.

You’ve just finished arranging a fresh batch of daisies, their bright white petals catching the light. He adjusts his glasses, eyeing you with that steady, slightly intimidating gaze.

“Y/N-ah...” he begins, his voice as measured as ever. “I wanted to remind you about the town hall meeting later this week, on Thursday. It’s about the annual fair. Please be there.” he says calmly.

You raise an eyebrow, wiping your hands on a towel. “That’s it? No more details?” you question, amused.

He gives a small smile, one that barely softens his usual stern demeanor. “There’s more to discuss at the meeting, so just be there.” And with that, he turns and leaves as quickly as he came, leaving you wondering what exactly he’s got planned. You watch him walk towards the shop next to yours and you're quickly distracted when a customer walks in.

Right next door, Jungkook is having his own first encounter with Mr. Kwon’s business-like approach. He’s just finished cleaning his motorcycle when the town head arrives in front of his shop, looking like he’s stepped out of a corporate boardroom.

“Jungkook...” Mr. Kwon begins “I’m here to remind you about the town meeting this week, on Thursday. It’s a big one—planning for the annual fair. Since you’re part of the community now, I strongly encourage you and your friends to attend. We need fresh perspectives.” he states, eyeing the rest of the boys behind him.

Jungkook blinks, taken aback. “Wait, I don’t even know what this fair thing is—”

“You’ll figure it out. Just be there.” Mr. Kwon’s tone is firm, his back already turned as he walks away, but he suddenly stops in his tracks, turning his head over his shoulder. “And wear something presentable. It’s not a garage.” he says.

Jungkook chuckles faintly as Mr. Kwon left, his friends stifling laughter behind him. “Presentable.” Yoongi drawls. “You gonna show up in a tux, boss?” he jokes, causing everyone to snicker.

As Jungkook continues with his work, his thoughts linger about this so called town meeting. It was his first time being summoned to one, and while he wasn’t particularly eager to attend, Mr. Kwon’s authoritative tone made it clear it wasn’t really optional.

//

The evening of the meeting arrives, and you walk towards the town hall with Juwon’s arm tightly clinging to yours. “If we’re late because you had to rearrange just one more daisy, I’m blaming you.” you hear her say and you laugh. “Relax Juwon-ah." you reply, rubbing her hands that held your arm.“Namjoon said he’d save us seats.” you inform.

As you approach the town hall, the streets hum with excited chatter, the townspeople preparing for what’s sure to be an eventful fair. Suddenly, the low rumble of motorcycles grew louder. Heads turned as Jungkook and his gang rode in, their bikes gleaming under the evening sun. They parked with an air of nonchalance, right outside the town hall, drawing curious glances and a few whispers.

“First time seeing the townies up close?” Yoongi teases Jungkook as they get off their bikes. “I guess." Jungkook mutters, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he waits for Jimin and Hoseok to take off their helmets so that they can head inside.

While the bikers still seemed to be parking their bikes, you and Juwon were already inside the hall. You instantly spot Namjoon, Seokjin, and Taehyung, eagerly saving two seats for you and Juwon. They wave you over once they see you, their faces a mix of impatience and playful annoyance.

“We got prime real estate!” Seokjin declares, gesturing to the front row. “More like you just wanted to be close enough to whisper critiques about Mr. Kwon’s tie.” Namjoon says dryly. "Someone has to keep the man humble.” Seokjin quips, shrugging.

You and Juwon take your seats and just as you’re getting comfortable, Taehyung grins. “Speaking of critiques, how long do we think it’ll take Mrs. Han to bring up her pie-eating contest again?” he asks, stifling a laugh. “I’m giving it five minutes. Namjoon replies as he holds up his phone. “Starting the timer now.” he chuckles.

Once Jungkook steps into the hall, he finds himself slightly out of place among the vibrant crowd of familiar faces and lively chatter. His eyes instinctively scan the room, landing on you and your friends seated in the front row. You laugh at something Juwon says, your eyes crinkling with genuine amusement, while Taehyung playfully argues with Namjoon about something he can't quite hear.

Jungkook feels a strange pull—your energy, so warm and lighthearted, stands in stark contrast to his own awkwardness in this unfamiliar setting. His gaze lingers for a moment too long, enough for Yoongi to notice and nudge him. “Spot something interesting?” he teases, smirking.

Jungkook shakes his head quickly, looking away. “Just taking it all in.” he mutters, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrays him. He follows his friends, as they all take their seats somewhere in the middle of the hall.

The room fills with excited chatter, the buzz of anticipation thick in the air. People whisper eagerly about the fair and what it will bring this year. As Mr. Kwon takes the stage, he adjusts the microphone and clears his throat and everyone falls silent, waiting for him to start.

“Good evening, everyone.” he formally begins, his voice commanding. “Thank you all for coming. As you know, the annual town fair is upon us, and tonight’s meeting is about planning and assigning tasks. This year, we’re aiming to make the fair even better—more organized, more collaborative, and, hopefully, more memorable.” He pauses to scan the crowd.

“Now, I know some of you have suggestions...” His gaze lingers pointedly on Mrs. Han, who immediately raises her hand. “Mr. Kwon.” she begins, her voice carrying. “I really think it’s time we bring back the pie-eating contest.” she says, standing up.

Mr. Jung groans from the other side of the room. “For the last time, Mrs. Han, the clinic is not sponsoring antacid tablets for everyone!” he says, his nose twitching. “Maybe if you baked better pies, fewer people would need them.” Mrs. Han shoots back, earning a ripple of laughter from the crowd.

“Okay, okay!” Mr. Kwon interjects as he holds up his hands. “Let’s keep this civil... or as civil as possible.”

Namjoon leans over to Taehyung. “Three minutes. She’s getting faster.” he whispers as they both cover their mouths, not wanting Mr. Kwon to catch them giggling like children.

Mr. Kwon clears his throat, signaling for everyone to settle down. “We need to make this fair something special. This year’s theme, ‘A Night in Stardust,’ is all about wonder and magic. We want the fair to be an experience that stays with people long after it’s over." he announces.

"‘A Night in Stardust’, huh?” Taehyung whispers. “Sounds like something out of a sci-fi romance.” he says while Namjoon smirks. “Or Seokjin’s poetry journal.” he jokes. Seokjin feigns offense as he dramatically clutches his chest. “Excuse me, my poems are classic.”

As Mr. Kwon continues, he outlines more exciting events, including a fortune-teller’s tent, carnival games like ring toss and a scavenger hunt, handmade jewelry booths and various other things along with a stargazing dome to tie in with the theme.

At the mention of the fortune-teller’s tent, Seokjin laughs. “Last year, she told me I’d meet someone tall and handsome and that they would save me from a storm that was supposed to ruin my life.” you hear him say. “Turns out it was just Namjoon holding an umbrella when it rained heavily that one night in September.” The room erupts into laughter, Namjoon included.

“And we’ll also have the hammer strength game. Let’s see if anyone can beat Taehyung’s record.” Mr. Kwon adds as Taehyung grins smugly, while Namjoon mutters something about “unfair leverage.”

“Let’s not forget the stargazing dome.” Mr. Kwon continues. “Where we’ll have a real view of the stars... no glitter, no tricks, just pure, unfiltered stardust.” The crowd applauds, everyone eagerly imagining the magical experience the dome will bring.

As the meeting continues, Jungkook watches the people around him with quiet fascination. He notices how easily they laugh and joke with each other, their voices filled with warmth and comfort. Everyone seems so relaxed, as if they’ve known each other for years. His attention shifts to you and your friends.

He’s especially taken aback by how involved all of you are in the conversation. You and your friends aren’t just listening; you're actively participating, cracking jokes, teasing one another, and sharing in the laughter. Each one of you adds something to the mix, whether it's a funny remark or a playful comeback.

The easy way everyone interacts with one another catches Jungkook’s eye. It’s not just about the words being said, but the bond they share. There's a warmth in the room that’s impossible to miss. The sense of unity is so strong that it’s almost like a shared heartbeat among the townspeople. He can’t help but smile at how effortless and natural it all seems.

As he watches, it finally clicks for him... this is why the town fair is such a big deal. It’s not just about the rides or the food stands or the games. It’s about the connection between people. The fair is their time to come together, to celebrate their friendships and shared history.

Jungkook realizes that the fair is more than just a tradition—it’s a celebration of the town’s unity. It’s a chance for everyone to bond, strengthen their ties, and create memories together. In that moment, he understands the deeper meaning of the fair, and he feels a sense of appreciation for the way this community truly values each other.

As the laughter fades, Mr. Kwon clears his throat, signaling the shift in the meeting's tone. "Alright, time to assign tasks for the fair." he announces, looking around the room. His gaze moves around as he begins assigning tasks to various townspeople.

Your friends Taehyung and Namjoon are responsible for setting up all the games, while Seokjin is responsible for the food stalls and making sure all the stalls have everything they require. Juwon is in charge of the performances as she's needed to choreograph a dance for the little kids.

Mr. Kwon continues his rounds of assigning tasks here and there. As he goes down the list, you shift in your seat, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. When he finally comes to you, the room quiets, all eyes turning in your direction.

"Y/N-ah." Mr. Kwon starts with a smile. "Your shop will be in charge of the decorations... think glowing flowers, twinkling vines, anything that will transform this fair into something magical." he says.

You nod, a little taken aback by the responsibility, but you’re ready. The pressure is real, but you can’t let it show. "I won’t let you down." you smile, even though the weight of the task settles in your chest.

"And..." Mr. Kwon continues, his eyes now flicking to Jungkook. "Since your shop is right next to Y/N’s, I’m assigning you both to work together. Jungkook, you and your friends will handle all the logistics—setting up tents, building stages, and making sure everything’s in place and all that. You two will be coordinating directly."

A hush falls over the room. Whispers ripple through the crowd as the news sinks in. You glance at Jungkook, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the tension in the air. It’s clear he’s not thrilled about the arrangement, but there’s no backing out now.

Seokjin leans towards Juwon, his voice low but just loud enough for you to hear. "Oh, this is going to be fun." he whispers, and Juwon chuckles, eyeing you.

You catch Jungkook’s gaze for a moment, his eyes lingering on you a bit longer than expected before he quickly looks away. It’s clear neither of you are particularly excited about working together, but the task ahead is unavoidable. Though there's an invisible wall between the two of you, you both know you can't avoid each other forever.

"Is everyone okay with this?" Mr. Kwon finally asks, scanning the room with a hopeful smile. "Remember, we’re all in this together to make this fair a grand success. Let’s show these other towns how we do things here !!" he laughs as everyone else in the room, nod in agreement, their energy buzzing with excitement.

For most, it’s just another fair, but for some, it’s an opportunity to come together and create something truly special. Jungkook’s eyes briefly meet yours again, and for a moment, the weight of the responsibility settles in. Neither of you speak a word, but there’s a quiet understanding that the next few days are going to be full of surprises and challenges.

As the meeting wraps up, the lively chatter and laughter return to the room. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you can’t help but feel the tiniest flicker of annoyance, nervousness and excitement. The fair will bring more than just stardust—it will bring a new chapter for you and Jungkook, whether either of you are prepared for it or not.

<- part 3 // part 5 ->

series masterlist

[blvefilm]

Let My Song Teach You

Word Count 4805

Warnings Canon-typical violence, profanity

Pairing Agatha x Rio x Fem!oc

Summary The trial continues and Umbra finds herself struggling to maintain balance.

Notes this is part 3! I took some time to plot ahead since I was just feeling this out initially- I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 / Her Shadow Here

Part 2 / If I Can't Reach You Here

The incessant wailing of pained witches is a familiar sound, but it grates on the senses all the same- my shadows writhe at the shrill cacophony.

Agatha, having immediately rushed toward Teen when it began, seizes the record player. She hoists it high above her head with a snarl before slamming it against the wooden planks. The shattered pieces scatter across the floor, but she doesn’t stop there. Even once the noise quiets, she stomps it with a relentless fury. 

I’ve always thought Agatha looks magnificent when she’s angry.

Rio and I stand side by side just behind Lilia, watching the chaotic sequence of events with measured calm. For a few beats the only sound in the room is Agatha’s ragged breathing.

“We’ve been cursed.” Lilia states gravely, her eyes looking comically wide with her Liza Minnelli lashes.

A metronome sat atop the dark oak piano begins to tick ominously. 

“I think this means the trial started.” Rio chuckles, gesturing to the timer with her blade. I can’t help but grin- her amusement is infectious. Quite literally, in my case. 

“Why are you smiling?” Questions Jen, incredulous.

“They’re tourists.” Dismisses Agatha, shimmering gold pants catching the light. 

“They’re psychos.” Jen corrects, shooting her a sharp look. 

Rio nods, grin spreading too wide, the red lighting casting eerie shadows on her face. Jen instinctively steps back, heeled boots clicking against the floor.

The coven exchanges uneasy glances as they wait for something, anything, to strike.

“...And nothing is happening.” Teen murmurs, voice tinged with tentative hope. “Maybe this curse isn’t so bad.”

Agatha shakes her head at him with a weary sigh. 

My attention is drawn to Alice who rolls her shoulders, staring down at herself in confusion. “Does anybody feel...” She allows the word to trail and I can feel the entire room lean forward.

“What?” Urges Lilia, dread thick in her voice.

“I feel…lighter?” She says, tone lilting at the end in question and a shade of relief. 

I raise a brow in muted shock when Lilia’s honey colored fur coat begins to smoke. A second later she falls to the ground screaming in pain, an odd tangle of limbs against the invisible fire that could be heard sizzling over her skin. 

I despise the smell of burning witch.

“What is it, Lilia? What’s wrong?” Questions Teen as he runs to her alongside Alice. 

Rio and I share a glance, my head tilting toward the flailing witch in question when she shakes her head ‘no’ in denial at my request to offer help. I purse my lips in agitation at the senseless theatrics of this whole facade.

She was always the one who enjoyed games.

“What's doing that to her?” Jennifer yells, looking quite frazzled in her flower crown. 

“How do we stop it?” Teen turns to Agatha with his question and she can only stare, dumbstruck. 

“Alice, protect her!” Kale demands, voice dropping in desperation.

At the sound of her name, Alice jerks away from Lilia’s crumpled form, turning to Rio with a huffed, ”Can I borrow this?” 

Rio willingly releases the dagger, and Alice swiftly raises it high above her head, slashing in a downward arc until it thunks into the wooden planks. She makes quick work of  carving a circle around the whimpering woman while chanting harshly in Latin.

Lilia’s frame jolts as the curse is expelled from her, and she takes a moment to collect herself before weakly rising with Alice’s help. 

“I need you to draw one of those circles around me, right now.” Jen inserts from beside Agatha. 

Everyone ignores the comment as Rio glides toward the crescent shaped couch, flopping down and meeting my gaze from beneath her lashes as she leisurely crosses her legs. 

“So, uh…Breaking a curse. Smudge sticks? A salt bath?” Teen stutters out, beginning to pace. “What if we locate and reason with the witch who cast the curse?”

I’m tempted to roll my eyes at that, and Rio’s mirth cycles back to me.

“Once vengeance is loosed, you can’t real it back in.” Mutters Agatha, gloved hands curling in agitation. 

“So, what do we do?” 

“The only way to end the curse is to face it.” Lilia supplies shakily.

The ominous words barely leave her lips when Jen crumples to the ground in a blur of pink, her screams slicing through the air a pitch sharper than Lilia’s. Agatha cringes away from her as if it will jump to her next- which, it might, I suppose. 

Alice is at Jen’s side in an instant, frantically carving the protection circle while the potions witch begs for her to hurry.

“Her shoulders.” Teen breathes, horrified, as the circle seals with a faint shimmer. 

The cut-out neckline of Jen’s flowing dress reveals her once flawless shoulders, now marred by jagged strips of charred flesh. I let out a low whistle at the damage, and Teen shoots me a disapproving look. 

“Do I have one too?” Lilia whispers, tugging at her neckline to expose the same grisly sight etched into her skin.

I feel the electric charge in the air before the deep vibrations of a rumbling growl quakes the floor. 

The witches gasp as a sudden torrent of magic spirals through the room, whipping everyone's hair and frilly clothing violently. A demonic screech circles like a predator seeking its prey, the sound drilling into our eardrums. 

“What is that?” Someone asks, voice barely audible.

“That’s the curse.” Rio offers, unbothered, her face obscured by a magazine.

Agatha takes a step back, unwittingly colliding into me. The warmth of her frame lurches away just as quickly when my hands automatically find her hips to steady her. Her sharp blue eyes snap to mine, brimming with accusation. 

I meet her glare with a slow smile, unable to resist.

“The backwards record!” Exclaims Teen.

Alice shuffles the broken pieces of the record together, exhaling heavily when they reveal the one song that she can never escape. 

Agatha, feeling the pressure of the situation and likely wanting to get further away from me, rushes to Alice’s crouched figure and pulls her up by the shoulders- Giving her a shake.

“It’s you isn’t it? You brought it in here!” Her voice is sharp with accusation. 

“Leave her alone, Agatha!” Shouts Teen, pulling her back by the arm with surprising strength.

“I didn’t think it was real!” Alice explodes, tears pooling in her eyes as she throws her hands out in a plea for understanding. 

“I thought it was me! That it's my fault that I can’t keep a job…that everything I touch turns to shit!” A small sob escapes her, thick with shame. “That I couldn’t save her…”

With trembling hands, she tugs her shirt to the side to show us scars that mimic Jen and Lilia’s burn- Hers deep and mottled like they never healed quite right. “I convinced myself they were birthmarks...Even though she had the same ones.”

I note Agatha keeps a hand against Teen’s stomach, guarding him from the current conflict. 

“Wait, are we talking about a generational curse?” Jen questions with a hand out, trying to grasp the situation. 

“Oh you poor thing.” Lilia sighs with empathy, I mentally echo her thoughts.

“Poor us!” Jen corrects. “Now we have her family’s old ass curse!” Rio snorts at that, flipping a page.

“I’m sorry.” Alice whispers brokenly.

Before anyone can respond, Teen yelps when an invisible force slams into him. 

Agatha surges forward, but it doesn’t matter- before she can reach him, Teen is flung like a ragdoll through the glass window of the recording studio. 

The crash can be heard through the room, shards of glass tinkling to the floor. My grip on Agatha loosens- A move I didn’t register making, and she bolts to his side, Alice close on her heels. Groans of pain mingle with the crunch of glass as they swarm him. 

I glide toward the shattered window, staring idly as Alice crouches beside him, brushing off shards and muttering words of comfort. Another victim of the curse helped by the ever-dutiful protection witch. 

“Hey,” Teen croaks, voice weak but laced with humor. “I got attacked by the curse…Does that mean I’m part of the coven? Blessings and burdens alike?” 

His pitiful attempt at levity pulls a faint smirk from me. 

“Not a lot of blessings with this group.” Lilia quips, stepping through the door with a dry smile.

I nod, lips twitching in agreement when a voice cuts through the moment. 

“Is he okay?” 

We all spin to face Jen who has refused to leave her warding circle.

Agatha drifts past me and back into the main room, scoffing with a toss of her hands. “So what? You live in that circle now?”

“Maybe.”

Rio stands, stalking toward her with a predatory gait, as Alice and Teen shuffle their way back toward us. 

“So what’s the plan, Agatha?” Rio questions, leaning toward the witch, voice laced with impatience. 

She pointedly avoids her gaze, turning instead to Alice who in turn stares at the piano like it might snap at her. 

“You’re right. That’s the solution.” She snaps abruptly, jabbing a finger toward the instruments. 

“No, it's not.” Alice bristles at the suggestion. 

“We have to play Lorna’s Ballad.” Agatha says with renewed confidence. 

“I’m not playing that song!” Alice shoots back, crossing her arms defensively. 

“All signs point to a jam session.” Agatha mutters, exasperation apparent as she pops a hip and spreads her hands before her.

“What good will it do? The Ballad opens The Road. We did that. We’re here.” She continues to deny the glaring truth. 

“Lorna’s version is different, though.” Teen steps in.

“What did Lorna want from The Road?” Agatha questions no one in particular. “What was her intention?”

Rio speaks up from where she is perched lazily at the drum set, “To save her daughter.”

“You should have burnt to a crisp years ago but here you are. Sullen and aimless, but alive. That’s because at any given moment somewhere, someone is playing that song that you hate so much…Lorna’s Ballad is a protection spell…It protects you.” Agatha’s words hang heavily in the air.

I can see the realization wash over Alice- fear, disbelief, guilt. They all flash in rapid succession that I imagine is dizzying for the poor witch. 

“And maybe now it can protect us.” Lilia finishes as she comes to the same conclusion. 

The hair-raising screech echoing through the room cuts off conversation with a brutal reminder. Time is running out. 

“Okay,” Agatha snaps with urgency, “Who’s good with piano? Lilia?” 

“No. No, I studied the zils. And a little pan flute.”

“Okay, Jen?”

“Ballet.”

“Oh, come on guys!” Agatha hurls with irritation, chest beginning to rise and fall with labored breaths that only draw my gaze to the deep cut of her top. 

“I play guitar. Sort of.” Teen offers timidly. 

“Okay, great.” The witch brushes a strand of hair from her face, taking a deep inhale to steady herself. “Jen, you’re on bass.”

“I’m still in the circle…”

“Jen!”

“Well, what do you know? Zils.” Lilia murmurs as she picks up the tiny instruments with a bemused grin. 

Ignoring her, Agatha spins to take the mic. The static feedback squeals through the room causing everyone to flinch. I step up to the available mic beside her. Her eyes narrow my way, speculative, before turning to Alice with a sly smile.

“Ooh! Alice, play it right and play it well. Maybe we won’t die.” She drawls, equal parts encouragement and challenge. 

The opening notes ripple through the room as Alice begins to play the piano, for a fleeting moment it feels like hope. Then the familiar sound of sizzling snaps everyone’s focus back. 

To my horror, the curse attacks Agatha this time. Smoke rises from her clothes and she hunches over with a gasp of pain. 

Instinctively, my shadows surge forward, curling possessively around her and wrenching the curse off before it can do anymore damage. Rio’s satisfaction and a thread of warning trickles through my chest at my interference. Agatha stumbles, catching her breath as the black tendrils retreat. 

“You could do that the whole time?” Teen gasps, voice a mixture of disbelief and outrage.  

I glance at him briefly, but don’t dignify his question with a response. My focus stays on Agatha as I scan her up and down for serious injury, avoiding the confusion in her expression. 

Satisfied she is unharmed, I clear my throat before speaking, tone leaving no room for argument. “Keep playing.” 

The coven is still for a heartbeat, everyone processing what just occurred with varying expressions of bewilderment and chagrin. Alice places her trembling fingers back on the keys and the melody resumes, each note only winding tension tighter.

I have learned the lesson

Of all that’s foul and fair

Our love was forged in Fire

Water, Earth, and Air

The spell is cast

How long it lasts

I cannot divine

The Road is there

And so I dare

To risk this heart of mine

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

My gaze locks onto Agatha’s profile as she sings, her voice raw and commanding. The way the light catches her jaw, the intensity in her gaze- it’s magnetic. 

Heat rises in my chest, spreading to my limbs with a slow burn and melding with Rio’s own. Beneath that, a whisper of caution. My balance is meant to steady Rio’s chaos, not mirror her yearning- Yet, I feel it. 

It’s maddening, this push and pull. The same longing she feels tethered to the woman who has undone us both in different ways. 

The little witch is distracting enough that I almost miss my cue to join in. 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Follow me, my friend

To glory at the end

Flames burst to life around the room, licking at the walls like serpents tasting the air. They grow hungrily, casting shadows that twist and dance. 

“Oh, great! Fire!” Lilia exclaims.

“It’s angry.” Rio warns, continuing her sing-song tone, silhouette haloed by the fiery glow. 

“Stop phoning it in! Play like a witch!” Agatha commands, voice escaping her in a growl. 

I have known the power

Of midnights in the wood

I’ve danced inside the circle

Of all that’s bad and good

The danger’s great

The trials wait

Tame your fears

A door appears

To love that never dies

As we go 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Blood and tears and bone

Together and alone

The room pulses with life while scattered embers glow like stars against the night sky. Our voices rise and fall, melding together in a seamless dance as we weave magic with our song. 

Alice’s voice breaks through, raw and thick with emotion. Tears trace silver paths down her flushed cheeks, and the magic around us coils tighter with each note.

If I can’t reach you

Let my song teach you

All you need to keep our love alive

If I can’t hold you

Remember what I told you

It’s the only way we survive

We survive

As we go

The curse itself manifests in a grotesque demonic form, perched above us. Its body is a patchwork of flesh and blood that glistens against the dim light. It seems to parody the shape of a woman, with long stringy hair and a mouthful of unnervingly flat teeth. 

The mockery is undone by the wings of thin tissue stretched taut over jagged bone that jut out at unnatural angles. The smell of iron and rot saturate the place. 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

“The curse. I see it. I can see it” Alice chokes before her voice takes on a raging determination. “...I can kill it.” 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Wherever it may bend

I’ll see you at the end

The curse moves with unsettling precision, settling itself upon the witch’s shoulders as if it belongs there. It talons curl into her skin, aligning with her brutal scars- they intertwine in a tapestry of her past and present torment.

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

A cloud of fire erupts above Alice as her final note pierces the air, arms flung wide. The curse- a surging flame in a violent bloom, twists inward, then collapses into a swirling void. 

As if it never existed.

“It’s gone.” Agatha breathes, hand clenching the mic in a white-knuckled grip as her eyes scan the room warily.  

The faint creak of wood draws their attention to the piano, currently groaning open to reveal a narrow, dark passage within. 

“The exit!” Alice gasps, relief breaking through her exhaustion. 

“We did it. Yay!” Teen mumbles, tone unsteady as he sways on his feet. A second later, his knees buckle, and he crumples to the ground.  

“Teen!” Agatha cries, panic cutting through her usually steely demeanor. “What happened?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Lilia’s voice rises in alarm, gaze darting to his torso where blood spreads across his side. 

“He’s bleeding!” 

“We’ve got to get him out of here.” Urges Alice where she clutches his arm. 

The group scrambles to lift him, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Shuttling an unconscious body through the narrow opening of a piano proves to be more complicated than any of them expected. 

Rio, who stands at my side and watches the scene unfold, subdues the desire to laugh when they bang his head against the wood for a second time- Only because Agatha’s eyes have welled with tears of fright for the boy. 

“Watch his head!” Lilia yells, voice strained.

Finally, they manage to pull him through, laying him on an elevated slab of stone just outside the passage. His pale face is slack, and blood continues to seep between their fingers as they try to staunch the wound. 

“Okay, hold on. Hold on.” Jen says, voice trembling with the weight of the situation. 

“There’s so much blood.” Agatha whispers, voice cracking with emotion that she hasn’t displayed in a long time. 

“I got it.” Jen reassures, although her demeanor screams unsteady.

“What else can we do? What else can we do?” Agatha croaks, bloodied fingers cupping his face.

“He’s young. He’s strong..” Lilia begins. 

“Dont!” Agatha snarls, turning to look at Rio and I, voice falling to a weak plea, “Don’t.”

It feels like a bolder in my gut when her loaded gaze lands on us, and I’m sent back to those hazy memories of her begging Rio…Of my birth. 

“Jen!” Agatha barks out, attempting to jolt Jennifer into action. 

“Water and moonlight.” She finally stammers. 

Alice scrambles to the thin stream a few feet away, falling to her knees to collect water, and being mindful not to slosh it as she hands it off to the potions witch.

Jen cups it in both hands, turning to the thin stream of moonlight breaking through the tangled branches and begins to chant in Latin. 

“Three of Swords.” Lilia mumbles airily. 

She delicately pours the water against the wound, his body flinches away with a small hiss of pain. 

“You’re making it worse!” Agatha accuses fearfully. 

“Wait, wait.” 

There is a visible sigh of relief when the blood begins to wash away to reveal healed skin. Jen gasps in shock at her own work, using his jacket to wipe away the remaining blood. 

“Jennifer…” Lilia breathes. “Look what you did.”

Agatha’s tear stained cheeks reflect the light when she glances our way once more before they clamor together to move him somewhere more comfortable. With far less huffs and grunts than when they shimmied him through the piano, they find him a patch of soft foliage to rest him on. 

Agatha sits by his side, gaze not leaving his face. The other coven members stand in the tense silence briefly before stuttering that they are going to start a fire and promptly wander in the opposite direction.

I eye Rio in my peripheral, twirling the damned flower in her hands as she stares despondently at the witch. I urge her to walk away through our connection, ignoring the fact that I haven’t either, but not one to be told no she parts her lips to speak anyway. 

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. Not right now.” She lashes out abruptly.

Rio sighs and the hand holding the flower falls to her side limply, before she spins to follow the coven dejectedly. I stretch a bit of shadow to caress the witch’s back softly, she shudders at the contact, but doesn’t look my way. I don’t expect her to.

 I take a seat on the log beside Rio once I make my way over to the flickering flames casting elongated shadows of the coven’s figures. She plays with her knife idly as the witches chat, sparing me a fleeting glance at my arrival. 

“I never really identified as just a witch…I’m an eleventh-generation root worker and midwife.” Jen murmurs, face reflecting the orange glow. 

“A midwife…” Lilia gasps with genuine appreciation. 

“How were you bound?” Alice asks softly.

“I was invited to the brand-new Obstetrics Association of Greater Boston. To share my expertise…It was a trap. I still don’t know how he did it. Bound me without magic.” She sighs deeply to clear the haunting memories from her mind. “So much for ‘do no harm’.”

“When mom died,” Alice starts quietly. “I stopped believing everything she ever taught me. I was so angry. Part of me hoped that The Road wasn’t real, so I could stay angry. Because…” She exhales shakily, unable to finish her thought. 

“Now you know it was all for you. And that makes you sad.” Lilia hums. 

“You’re right.” Alice concedes tearfully after pausing to wipe her face.

“Sad is better than angry.” The divination witch sends her an empathetic smile. 

“Here. Put this on your pressure points.” 

Jen shifts to hand her a small tin effectively shifting the somber weight that had settled over the group. 

“Why?”

“Because it smells nice.” She responds simply.

“Thanks, Jen.” Alice says, tone a shade lighter than usual at the gesture. 

“You know the worst part of being a witch?” Lilia states, queuing up another rant. “All the misconceptions and rumor mongering. That we talk to goats. That we’ve all got an extra nipple.”

“You guys don’t have extra nipples? I’m covered in nipples.” Rio states and I can’t help but join in on the antics when Lilia’s lip curls in disgust. 

“There’s one shaped like a star on her back.” 

“You wanna see?” Rio asks, moving to lift her shirt with a grin. 

“No, thank you.” Lilia says, appalled, as the women break out into snickers. 

I can see it then, the tentative camaraderie between the witches. They could make a powerful coven if everything about this wasn’t so convoluted. 

“Check this out.” Says Lilia once their laughter dies down, pulling her collar low to expose the skin of her throat. 

“What is that?” Jennifer asks, leaning in to get a closer look. 

“Vampire bite. Right before I knocked out his other tooth.”

“Oh!” The witches both exclaim with impressed tones, and intrigue slithers through my chest. The emotions are not my own, but Rio’s. 

“You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning. But now…” Lilia dangles the words in the air.

“But now?” the potions witch prods. 

Lilia blinks away the fog veiling her eyes. “Huh?”

“Lilia, where do you go?” Jen asks with a disbelieving laugh that sends Alice into another fit at her side. 

They quiet down as Agatha shuffles her way toward us stiffly, a blanket of uncertainty rippling through the coven. Rio, who’s moved to the ground, now sits between my legs where I remain perched on the log behind her. Agatha gives us a heavy look before easing down beside us. 

“How is he?” Alice’s voice has lost all amusement. 

“Mouthy.” 

“That’s a good sign.” Lilia breathes.

“Agatha, why don’t you show us your battle scars?” Jen encourages after we fall into a loaded silence against the whispers of crackling flames.

Agatha’s brows twitch upward with surprise before she unrolls her sleeve to reveal her arm. She shares a look with Rio and they both chuckle- I vaguely remember it myself from my time as a flicker in the back of her mind. 

“Knitting needle to the elbow.” She remarks in a haughty voice. “You ever hear of the Daughters of Liberty?” 

“No.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Exactly.” She affirms with a smirk, her own laugh hesitant amongst the others.

“I’ve got a scar.” Rio finally blurts- I’d felt her teetering on the edge of saying it or remaining silent since Agatha first spoke. My shadows twirl around her legs, as if to shield her. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do. A long time ago, I loved someone. And I had to do something that I did not wanna do, even though it was my job.” Rio angles her face toward Agatha just slightly and the witch whips the other way as if she might burn her. 

“And it hurt them.” She continues softer. “She is my scar.”

Agatha continues to avoid her gaze, hand tucked to her chin in an attempt at a mask of nonchalance. I resist the gnawing temptation to speak up in Rio’s defense- To tell Agatha that she is the reason her very being was torn in two. 

“I’m gonna stretch my legs.” She finally spits after a weighted pause that no one seems willing to break, standing with a deep sigh and walking briskly down the trail. 

I’m already standing when Rio gets up, together we turn to follow her when Lilia reaches out to halt our progress. “Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten what you said in the sound booth.”

A scoff escapes Rio as she jerks her hand back with a snarl, I can see the slight edge of rejection in her eyes most couldn't. Very few regarded Death warmly, after all.

I wrap an arm around her waist with a forceful tug, fingers tickling along the exposed skin of her side while she allows me to pull her down the road and away from the campfire bonding session. 

Agatha stands rigidly, arms crossed, and her back to us as we approach. I halt as Rio eases forward to tangle her fingers in Agatha’s long hair, the witch’s visible shiver and small moan in response to her touch draws me closer until I’m barely a step away. 

She rotates to meet Rio’s soft gaze, visibly melting into her as she caresses her head fondly and clutches her in an embrace. Agatha’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, face inches from my own. Her irises cloud with a storm of emotion, fondness with a barbed edge.

I hesitate, still unsure where I stand, before gently pressing my forehead to hers in a small show of acceptance. Of affection. My shadows, with a mind of their own, coil around us in a cool hug. 

Agatha’s eyes flutter closed with a shuttering exhale, savoring the small bubble of safety in the battleground we have created.

Rio’s relief and raw yearning hits me like a wave, my knees feel weak in its presence. With me torn from her, all the softer parts of herself are closer to the surface- More vulnerable. 

Agatha pulls back from our hold, just far enough that her lips are a breath away from Rio’s as her eyes pool with heat. 

The dark force that formed me jabs into my mind like a hot poker, causing me to flinch against Rio’s back with the force of it.

You are here to guide. To protect. To collect.

The reminder yanks all the warmth from the bond, leaving it a chilled husk of a thing between us. I retreat backward, one step, then two- Inhaling and exhaling deeply through my nose. 

“Agatha…” Rio hesitates to say the words we know to be true, and I almost wish she didn’t when I see the mental walls slamming back down in Agatha's eyes. “That boy isn’t yours.”

The little witch’s shoulders curl inward, the tender parts of her burrowing back into their hiding spots. She nods jerkily as she works to paint her usual sarcastic smile. It doesn’t hold the desired effect- her lips tremble with the effort and it’s hollow of any emotion.

She shoulders past us with a weak scoff, gait weary, but chin held high.

[kwamiwayzz]

Jeckole Yapping

Had to dig through my old posts to find the template, but I'm bored and doing this again but for Jecka and Nicole this time. Mostly headcanons and such below

__

• When or if I started shipping it:

I'm going to be honest, but I don't remember. I only got into Co09 a few months ago. All I know is that once I watched the out of context videos on Class of '09 and Re-Up, I wanted more content of them and came across a lot of really good fanart and fanfic.

I think there were a lot of boxes checked off when I slowly went down the rabbit hole lol. There's an emotionally constipated dark-girl paired with a preppy blonde girl who acts as the former's foil. I think what really drew me into them, fanart aside, were the foils and parallels between them. The codependency, expanded upon by Progman, was probably the final nail that dragged me down the brainrot.

• My thoughts:

I've known about them for awhile, and thought they were some random white girls in a cult classic VN that somehow regained a surge of popularity last year. I didn't know the VN was relatively new, and most of the time when I do ship Jeckole, it's without the creator in mind. They have a certain flavor to them that hits in a way where I can't stop brainrotting over them.

Someone mentioned this in a fic comment, but they see them as foils when it comes to dealing with people and the world around them--where Nicole acts as this snarling animal that will bite you if you get too close, while Jecka acts as this wall that doesn't allow things to get to her even if it does bother her. In a way, they envy each other for that, and after reading that fic it reinforced why their dynamic is one that I gravitate towards compared to the others. They have pieces of each other that they're missing and they can't live without the other (I love codependent Jeckole).

• What makes me sad about them:

In-game, they probably wouldn't last after high school when they go their separate ways. As much as Nicole sees Jecka as a slightly more "special" person to her than most people at the school, their friendship is more for convenience--with Nicole finding Jecka to be more tolerable and cool compared to everyone else (along with the added bonus of not being a loner), and Jecka finding Nicole more fun to hang around with than all her other school friends despite knowing how much Nicole is a fucked up mess and bad influence. In-game Nicole is also someone who would continue to keep everyone at an arm's length and also wouldn't fight too hard (outside of the Jecka and counselor smoking scene) to maintain any meaningful relationships once they're out of her reach.

But also, who cares what the creator thinks because fanart and fanfic exists lmaoooooo.

• What makes me happy about them:

There's a scene in Flip Side where Nicole calls Jecka first thing in the morning at 7am asking her where McDonald's keeps their frozen patties, only for Jecka to say they don't have them because McD serves breakfast during those hours. Then Jecka calls Nicole stupid, and I just found that scene funny in an oddly comforting way.

Nicole is comfortable enough to bug Jecka and wake her up so early in the morning for something so mundane, while Jecka just stays on the phone listening to whatever antics she's in instead of hanging up immediately and going back to bed. I also mentioned this in another post, but someone on Twitter said the thing they love most about Jeckole is how Nicole was willing to get to know Jecka even after saying she has no desire to make any connections at her new school. It can be interpreted as a convenience thing on Nicole's end, but every route in the original game has her willing to either ask for Jecka's name or share her name when they first meet.

To me, their back and forth dynamic keeps them balanced enough to stay fucked up with the potential of becoming well-adjusted in the future.

• Things done in art/fic that annoys me:

There's a number of interpretations when it comes to the Co09 characters, so I understand it can be hard to write them. But for me personally, I'm not a fan of when Nicole is depicted as either way too nice and uncharacteristically soft or way too mean and following the stereotypical SBN interpretation that "Nicole doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything".

• Things I look for in art/fic:

When they're codependent :) or when they're codependent with a slight chance of them getting healthier over time. Also, just them being stupid together.

I'm also one of the few people (I haven't come across too many others yet) that seek out future Jeckole stuff. Whenever I picture them as adults, it's always aurawra21's art in mind.

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

I'm a monoshipper when it comes to Class of '09, so probably no one. It adds to that codependent flavor :) but if you want a real answer...

For Nicole, probably Emily.

For Jecka, probably Emily also.

• My happily ever after for them:

Moving out of their town, healing from their trauma, and getting healthier over time. Maybe they won't be better people exactly, but they'd at least be less fucked up and a little happier (with Nicole finding some will to keep living past 30) after cutting off their toxic families.

• What is their favorite activity?: 

Nicole forcing Jecka to watch Mythbusters and How It's Made with her (in exchange for watching Smallville and Charmed with Jecka). Also, probably smoking together, assuming that Jecka hasn't quit her smoking habit ten years later.

[bookwyrminspiration]

girl help the mindless media is consuming me. girl why are you laughing I can’t remember what my interests are

[elftwink]

been learning to play ironsworn (gritty fantasy ttrpg which you can play with a gm but is mostly suited for solo or small group co-op gmless play) after having the rulebook pdf for several years (stars finally aligned to remove invisible thing blocking me from reading it idk) because i'm on another solo ttrpg kick & i don't know what took me so long to get around to this game because it genuinely is exactly what i was looking for. years ago when i was playing through solo 5e modules i should have just been playing ironsworn (believe it or not, 5e isn't very suited to solo play and is extremely clunky when you try lol).

also though i have dabbled in some other solo ttrpgs, a considerable amount of them are journaling games which is fun but imo considerably more work (usually by the time i'm a quarter of the way through the journal entry, i know how to entire scene played out and i want to move on to the next gameplay thing, so i get frustrated and bored quickly. it feels like when you solve a level in a video game but don't have the coordination to pull off the necessary move so you have to spend 20 extra minutes doing something you already figured out), so i really appreciate like not needing to write something for the game to progress (ive been taking notes for my own record since im playing solo and thus am not really out loud roleplaying the way you do in a group, but i definitely could do that instead and not take notes and the game would still function perfectly)

& ive been playing by myself but also in the past ive played a lot of ttrpgs in very small groups which has been other games but is mostly dnd and like. we also should have been playing ironsworn so that having a gm was not necessary. have definitely played games where we had to adapt the rules soooo much to do something that is just base game included in ironsworn. plus it's rules-light enough to do pretty complex moves that pose difficulties in bulkier games (ever introduced someone to dnd and they tell you they want to do a sick backflip and catch something and then attack and you have to tell them that will require several different consecutive rolls and some creative liberties with how the rules are 'supposed' to let you move? you can just Do That in ironsworn. use the strike move and describe it. done!)

the one thing is that although it's rules-light enough to theoretically play any setting or genre (some with more difficulty than others), ive found so far that like... the grittiness and sense of threat is very built into the mechanics so that would be sort of difficult to work around or change (but i think it's great from a game design perspective). what i mean is like, okay: you start with 5 max hp. there isn't really a way to raise this max hp, you just slowly gain abilities (assets) that make you less likely to have to lose the hp in the first place, or that make it easier to recover. when you encounter foes, you rank them on a scale of 1 -5, and enemies on the lowest side of this scale do one harm to you, while enemies on the highest side do five harm to you. so even though encountering an epic enemy won't always be deadly due to the assets you have, they are ALWAYS capable of taking you down to 0 hp with one good hit. so the feeling of threat is much more present compared to games where your character starts to be able to just tank and push through a failure or huge threat.

admittedly also i'm playing solo, im still learning how to balance combat, and also i built a character who has NO combat talents and iron (the close quarters fighting stat) is one of my lowest stats so i personally am under much more threat than if you built a character who knew how to fight or who could do deadly harm. but also the other thing about combat is it's extremely difficult to maintain control of the fight; you have to score a strong hit to do it on basically all moves, and there's a really limited pool of moves available when you don't have the initiative, and obviously none of them really favour you. i don't know that this makes combat genuinely more difficult, but it does make you feel like the fight is always about to spiral out of your control. every second you let it drag without decisive action feels like it brings you closer to dying. like i said, this is a feature of the game design and not a problem in any way. just thinking about it because when i was initially learning i was going to try to supplant it into a homebrew fantasy world of my own but the tone just wouldn't be right. and that it is somewhat difficult to replicate the kind of worlds that i typically play or run for dnd, which tend to lean somewhat sillier and definitely much higher fantasy

but i like to try new things and tbh especially in dnd i find that i very rarely feel that sense of threat and when i do feel it, it has nothing at all to do with the actual mechanics and reality of the combat and everything to do with how well the dm sells it to me and makes it sound and feel scary and dangerous. which is a testament to what a good gm can do for you but i do appreciate the threat feeling more built-in and also being actually real.

[llycaons]

im such a jyl defender she doesn't have to be badass or a fighter or even a great political mind or another demonic cultivator to be a valuable and worthwhile character. it would be cool if she got to fight but she doesn't, she's not very strong, she's not a cultivator, and I love her anyway you know she's got shit going on internally

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[scarlet-witchery]

can't wait till my mom dies so I can be free but also so I can legally change my first name

[vivalasthedas]

more games need to let you just be a piece of shit instead of offering you some wet sock ~grey morality~ take on choices. Like nah. Let me be a fucker. Love that for Baldur's Gate. Love it for Fable. Love it for Greedfall. Judging dragon age inquisiton so much.

[roturo]

SUCCESSOR -`♡´-

summary: He believes he’s going to die soon, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable. He needs a successor. And soon.

warnings: A LOT of breeding, smut, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds, pwp, tummy buldge, mentions of cum, mating press, virgin!L, obssesed!L, mentions of forming a family, not proof read and sleepy while writing this. and more.

a/n: ik this is going to have as much support as my other works, but it's def one of my best and favs writings, so please show me your support with a comment and reblog! it means a lot for me!

You've been part of the task force for a while now, ever since L handpicked you for his elite team. As a regular member, you've earned your place and trust within the group. The necessity of keeping your identity hidden has diminished, thanks to the expanding team, but you still opt for an alias during meetings, maintaining a veil of secrecy around your true connection to L.

L’s mind is a labyrinth, each thought of a winding path leading to an unknown destination. His strategies are always a step ahead, his deductions razor-sharp. Yet, despite his brilliance, one specific thought has been haunting him lately:

He believes he’s going to die soon.

This isn't a paranoid delusion but a calculated assessment. L understands the immense dangers tied to the Kira case. The complexity of the situation has grown, and he suspects an external force at play, one that eludes even his grasp. This unknown entity has shifted the balance, making the case more perilous than ever.

L is determined not to let his legacy end prematurely. He has dedicated his life to solving the world’s most challenging mysteries, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable.

He needs a successor.

And soon.

Finding someone who can match his intellect and tenacity is no simple task. The successor must be able to understand his intricate methods, to carry on his relentless pursuit of justice. The urgency of this mission weighs heavily on him, as he prepares to identify and groom the next guardian of his legacy.

You were the perfect match for him, and his calculations confirmed it. There was an 86% probability that having a child with you would result in someone with a higher IQ than his own, combined with the social skills he lacked. In the realm of interpersonal relationships, L was inexperienced, never having had a relationship or intimacy before. Recently, he had been contemplating how to propose this idea to you.

Should he ask you outright? Should he try to make you fall in love with him first? No, this wasn't about love. It was a precaution, a step in his investigation, a way to ensure his legacy continued if the worst were to happen.

The atmosphere in the headquarters was tense as always, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. You sat at your desk, engrossed in your work, when L’s quiet footsteps approached. His presence was magnetic, his aura of mystery and intellect always palpable. He paused beside you, his gaze fixed on the monitors displaying the latest updates on the Kira case.

“Can we talk?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, a rare departure from his usual confident demeanor.

You looked up, surprised by the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone. “Of course, L. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted, glancing around the room as if searching for the right words. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s… personal.”

Your curiosity piqued, you nodded, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re aware of the importance of my work, of the dangers we face daily. The Kira case has made me realize that I must consider contingencies I hadn’t thought of before.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“There’s a… statistical analysis I’ve conducted,” he said, his voice becoming more clinical as he explained. “It suggests that if I were to have a child with someone of your intelligence and social capabilities, the child would have a higher IQ than mine and possess the social skills I lack. This could be crucial in continuing my work if anything were to happen to me.”

The gravity of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. L, always methodical and rational, had approached this highly personal matter with the same analytical mindset he used to solve cases. You could see the logic in his plan, yet the implications were overwhelming.

“So, you want me to… have a child with you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes unwavering. “But understand, this is not about emotions or personal desire...I think” He whispers to himself before he continues– “It’s a precaution, a part of my contingency planning. I’ve never experienced a relationship or intimacy, so I’m uncertain how to approach this.”

The room seemed to close in around you as you processed his request. It was a cold, calculated proposition, yet it carried a weight of vulnerability and trust. L was placing his future, his legacy, in your hands.

“How do you expect this to work, L?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his facade of invincibility cracking slightly. “I’ve considered different approaches. Should I simply ask you directly? Should I try to make you fall in love with me first? But this isn’t about love. It’s about ensuring that if I am no longer here, someone capable can continue my work.”

A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. L’s eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, perhaps even acceptance. You could see the conflict within him, the struggle between his logical mind and the unfamiliar territory of human connection.

“I need time to think about this,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm.

L nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”

Finally, you made your decision.

One evening, you found L in his usual spot, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his focus. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“L,” you said softly, breaking the silence. He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours.

“I’ve thought about what you asked,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And I agree.”

For a moment, L simply stared at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”

You took a seat across from him, the air between you charged with a new sense of purpose. “How do we proceed?”

L leaned back, his thumb brushing his bottom lip in thought. “We need to ensure this doesn’t disrupt our work or compromise the investigation. The task force must not be aware of our personal connection, as it could create complications.”

You nodded, understanding the delicate balance that needed to be maintained. L’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I must admit that emotional connections are not my area of expertise. This will be… a learning experience.  Should… we do it tonight?”

“Ah- Ah- Slow down, L-Lawliet!” you gasped, your voice breaking with a mix of pleasure and urgency.

L’s thrusts were sloppy but fast, driven more by instinct than experience. His movements lacked rhythm, a clear sign of his inexperience. He had come twice already without withdrawing from you, his body responding purely on primal urges.

He had done his research, concluding that a mating press might be the most effective position for this purpose. But he never anticipated how overwhelmingly good it would feel. Was it like this with everyone? Or was it something unique because it was you?

His thrusts grew more erratic, almost desperate. Small whines escaped his mouth, each one tinged with your name like a prayer. You could feel every twitch, every movement inside you, the raw intensity of his desire almost too much to bear.

“L,” you whispered, trying to regain some control. “You need to… slow down.”

He nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. “I’m trying,” he panted, his voice unsteady. “It’s just… so overwhelming.”

His usually sharp, calculating mind seemed lost in the haze of sensation. Every thrust, every brush of skin against skin, was a new experience for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between maintaining control and giving in to the raw pleasure.

He moaned at the familiar, overwhelming sensation of climaxing again, and you could feel your own release approaching. The intensity was almost unbearable when he grabbed a pillow and slipped it under your back, angling you into an even deeper mating press. His thrusts became more deliberate, his cock somehow reaching deeper, hitting your g-spot with precision over and over again.

The pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that all you could do was chant his name like a mantra, each syllable a prayer of ecstasy. “L-Lawliet,” you breathed, your voice trembling with the force of your impending climax.

He watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his own pleasure driving him to thrust harder, faster. “S-shit,” he gasped, his breath hitching, “I think—” His words dissolved into a whine as he came again inside you, his release flooding your womb with a desperate, addictive need.

This wasn’t just about producing a successor anymore. It was about the raw, primal satisfaction of filling you over and over again. He was captivated by the sight of your bodies joined, the way your mixed arousal leaked from where you were connected, glistening in the dim light.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your own climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, milking every last drop of his release as he continued to thrust, his movements erratic and needy.

He whimpered, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his dark hair falling in a messy curtain around your face. “You feel… incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and exertion.

He groaned before pressing his lips to yours, the kiss deep and fervent. His cock remained erect inside you, pulsing with an insatiable desire. The feeling of having you this close, of being connected so intimately, was overwhelming. In that moment, he lost all sense of reason and the initial purpose behind his actions.

His mind, usually so sharp and focused on the Kira case, was now clouded with visions of a future he never thought he'd consider. He imagined how adorable you would look, carrying his child, a baby with his eyes and your smile. The idea of having a family with you consumed him, pushing all thoughts of logic and strategy aside.

Without realizing it, he began thrusting again, the movement instinctual and desperate. Each thrust was deliberate, fulfilling the small bump of cum inside you that was already visible through your tummy. He watched in awe, fascinated by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately, the tangible evidence of his desire and your shared pleasure.

“L-Lawliet,” you gasped against his lips, your hands clutching his shoulders as he moved within you. “What... what are you thinking?”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking about us. About a future I never allowed myself to dream of.” His voice was rough with emotion, a raw edge that you rarely heard.

Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor striking a chord deep within you. “Lawliet,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. “I never imagined… I never thought you’d want this.Want me”

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his thrusts growing more purposeful. “But now, with you, that's all I can think about. The idea of you carrying my child, of us having a family…you in general… it’s overwhelming.”

He kissed you again, more gently this time, savoring the softness of your lips against his. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sensation heightened by the emotional intensity of the moment. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every detail.

“Do you… do you want this too?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you breathed, the admission freeing a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. “I want this. I want us.”

His eyes darkened with a mix of relief and desire, and he kissed you harder, his movements inside you becoming more urgent. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, each moan and gasp a testament to the bond growing between you.

As he continued to thrust, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his rhythm intensifying as he chased his own release.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

He groaned, his own release following closely behind, filling you once more. The feeling was addictive, the raw intimacy of it all-consuming. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered mostly to himself, his voice filled with wonder.

“Neither can I,” you replied, your heart pounding in sync with his. “But it feels right. It feels perfect.”

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It does.”

You stayed entwined like that, savoring the afterglow and the newfound depth of your connection. The Kira case and the outside world faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of each other’s presence and the promise of a future together.

Eventually, as the reality of your situation began to seep back in, you knew you had to return to your duties. But the bond you had forged would remain, a source of strength and comfort in the days to come.

As L gently pulled out and helped you adjust, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly in a small whisper. “Together.”

“Together,” you echoed, your heart filled with a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

[malusokay]

becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :)

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. I have a bunch of playlists on my Spotify that might help!! <3

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

Babes, The hiatus is OVER, and I'm finally back!! I got a lot of asks on studying, burnout, and school in general, so I thought, why not start off with a little student guide?? I Hope October has been kind to you, and school hasn't been too overwhelming (though I know it, unfortunately, has been for many of you), and I'm glad to finally be back!! <33

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[hoshifighting]

Arranged Marriage — Hoshi x Reader

— Synopsis: In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple. — WC: 10k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, fingering, oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, choking, one single slap on the ass, hair pulling, aftercare, whipped!hoshi, hoshi teases reader until she almost cries for dick, mentions of alcohol, mentions of body fluids (cum, sweat), DIRTY TALK—prob the nastiest dirty talk i've written.

You knew this day would come. 

Growing up in a world where luxury, money, stock exchange, and business were the pillars of existence, arranged marriages were just another part of the cycle. Two patrimonies merging into one for the benefit of both families—it was a tradition as old as time. 

Some couples embraced the spotlight, showcasing their unity to the world. Others barely tolerated each other, living in separate homes to maintain a fake image. There were also those whose mutual disdain led to chaos both in their personal lives and in the family businesses.

When you saw Soonyoung in your home, dressed in a suit that clearly wasn’t his style, you felt a hurricane of emotions. His usual vibrant, carefree energy seemed stifled under the weight of the tailored fabric. You greeted him and his family alongside your parents, both of you a shy mess, but something in his eyes told you things might not be as bad as you feared.

“Hey,” Soonyoung murmured as you both found a moment away from the adults’ formal discussions. “This suit is killing me.”

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of relief. “You look... different.”

“Yeah, definitely not my usual style, you know me” he grinned, loosening his tie. “But I guess we’re both out of our comfort zones today.”

You nodded, memories flooding back of the two of you playing outside when kids, during business congresses, your parents inside discussing mergers and acquisitions while you and Soonyoung chased each other around the gardens. “Do you remember those days?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up with nostalgia. “We had our own little world, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you replied. “And now, here we are.”

“So, how do you feel about this?” he asked, shy, looking at your expensive dress, clearly set for tonight. “About us... getting married?”

“I’ve been preparing for it my whole life, I guess,” you said honestly. “But with you... it feels different. Less intimidating."

“I feel the same,” Soonyoung admitted. “I mean, if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can make this work. Find a balance between our lifes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We can create something new, something that’s ours.”

You looked at him, seeing not just the boy you grew up with, but a partner. Someone who understood the complexities of your world and was willing to navigate them with you.

You looked around your house, taking in the scene. Soonyoung’s family mingled with yours, coworkers from your parents’ firms exchanged polite conversation, and your and Soonyoung’s nephews were playing circles around the couch. 

The weight of the day pressed on your shoulders, a burden that didn’t match the elegance of the dress you were wearing for the marriage proposal.

Soonyoung’s eyes met yours, noticing your tense posture. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, sulking, and he recognized the same expression you had when you were eight. 

He leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but I brought a bottle of tequila. It’s in my trunk. Would you like some to relax?”

You stared at him in silence before nodding with an exasperated look, feeling like it was exactly what you needed.

“Did you bring a shot cup?” you asked, following him outside.

He stopped, bottle in hand, and you both laughed. Taking the bottle from him, you leaned against his car, opened the cap, and poured a generous shot—maybe a little more—straight into your mouth. Soonyoung watched, his mouth wide open in surprise. You handed the bottle back to him.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking a swig himself, looking comically exaggerated as he did. “I’m the one who has to kneel and propose today. My heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

You both laughed like teenagers getting away with something forbidden, hiding behind his car.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you broke it. “Do you have the ring here?”

He looked at you and nodded.

“Can I see it?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as if he had a rare Pokémon card.

“Is that right?” he teased.

You made doe eyes and asked, “Pretty please?”

He smiled, pulling a small black box from his pocket and opening it for you. 

The diamond ring sparkled in your eyes, its brilliance captivating. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Soonyoung nodded, grinning. “My sister helped me choose it. I originally wanted a diamond shaped like a cat, but she said that wasn’t appropriate.”

You laughed, the image of a cat-shaped diamond making you smile. “It’s beautiful, but a kitten-shaped ring sounds adorable. I would’ve loved that too.”

His grin widened, a small, proud smile lighting up his face as you both admired the ring.

Your moment was interrupted by Soonyoung’s mom's voice, echoing from the house. “Oh my god, are you already proposing?”

Soonyoung choked on his own saliva, his eyes wide with panic. The best thing to do now? Say no and face his mother’s scolding for showing the ring prematurely, or actually propose right then and there?

Before he could think it through, he found himself on one knee on the sidewalk, his heart pounding. You quickly hid the tequila bottle behind your back.

“Soonyoung, what are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I... I’m improvising,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

The spontaneity of it all, made you laugh and cry at the same time, you needed to pretend you were actually emotional. “Yes, Soonyoung. Yes, I will.”

You barely noticed the sudden crowd that had gathered around you, they'd appeared out of nowhere, all eyes on the two of you. Soonyoung’s hand trembled slightly as he slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of his touch.

You smiled nervously at him, teeth gritted. “Hug me,” you whispered urgently, your eyes darting to the tequila bottle that was precariously wedged behind your back. “Please, put the tequila bottle inside your car. It's practically shoved inside my ass.”

Soonyoung blinked, processing your words before a grin spread across his face. He pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that felt both reassuring and grounding. As he embraced you, he expertly reached behind you, his fingers brushing against the bottle. 

You could feel his body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

“Hang on,” he whispered back.

He managed to grab the bottle and discreetly slid it out from behind you. Still holding you close, he took a step back towards the car, opening the door with one hand and slipping the bottle inside. The whole maneuver was so smooth that you doubted anyone noticed the clandestine operation.

That moment eased the tension of the night, but the tequila hadn’t taken effect yet, and you knew you had to keep an eye on Soonyoung. His alcohol tolerance was notoriously low, and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself—or worse, get into trouble.

As the night wound down and Soonyoung’s dad started to lead him to the car, Soonyoung sulked, trying to resist. “I want to talk a bit more to my bride,” he protested, his voice slightly slurred. His words elicited good-natured laughter from both families, who were enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

You walked over to him, giving him a warm hug and patting his head affectionately. “It’s time to go home, Soonyoung,” you said gently.

He looked at you with wide, earnest eyes, the warmth in his gaze reminding you of why you felt less nervous than you should. Soonyoung had always been warm-hearted, and maybe that’s why you felt a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

As you pulled back from the hug, Soonyoung’s hand lingered in yours for a moment longer. “Promise you’ll call me tomorrow?” he asked, his tone earnest despite his tipsiness.

“Promise,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

With one last affectionate look, Soonyoung allowed his dad to guide him into the car. You watched as the vehicle pulled away. Your parents approached, their expressions a blend of amusement and expectation.

“Well, that was quite a night,” your mom said, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed, glancing at your dad, who nodded in approval.

“You two make a good pair,” your dad said, his tone warm. “I’m glad to see you both getting along so well.”

Your parents were now expectant, believing you and Soonyoung were truly becoming a couple. And in a way, you were—just not in the conventional sense they imagined.

The next day, even though it was a promise to a drunk boy, you called Soonyoung in the morning. Like any typical business wedding, the preparations started swiftly, aiming to have the wedding happen as soon as possible. Today, you were going to choose the food and drinks for the event.

When Soonyoung arrived, he was all tidied up, but his face was clearly tired. You laughed a bit, “You look…”

He completed for you, “Fucked?”

You chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Long night,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m here.”

“Good, because we have a lot to decide,” you replied, glancing at the event agent who was discussing the dessert options.

As you both looked at the event agent, who insisted on adding superfluous things to the sweets—like a layer of gold—you exchanged amused glances. The agent was enthusiastically explaining the virtues of gold-leaf-covered desserts.

“Gold? For us to... poop?” Soonyoung murmured incredulously.

You stifled a laugh and leaned closer to him. “Can’t it be something more tasty?”

The agent looked slightly taken aback. “Gold leaf is quite a statement piece.”

Soonyoung nodded, trying to be polite. “But we were thinking of something simpler.”

“How about churros?” you suggest.

The agent blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Churros? For a wedding?”

“Why not?” you said with a grin. “They’re delicious, and everyone loves them.”

“But they don’t exactly scream luxury,” the agent protested.

“They scream fun,” Soonyoung countered. “And isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be?”

The agent sighed, making a note. “Alright, churros it is. Anything else?”

“Maybe some street-style tacos?” he added, enjoying the agent’s bewildered expression.

“Tacos?” the agent repeated, as if the word was foreign.

“Yeah, why not?” Soonyoung agreed. “Let’s keep it simple and tasty.”

The agent finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Honestly, days flew by with Soonyoung by your side. Planning every little detail of the wedding together brought both fun and challenges, especially when your tastes didn’t always align. It was a bit complicated at first, like when you two were choosing the destination for your honeymoon. 

Soonyoung wanted an adventure-packed trip to the Amazon rainforest, while you preferred a relaxing beach resort in the Maldives. The negotiations were intense, but you eventually settled on a compromise.

Choosing Soonyoung’s suit also proved to be a task. He insisted on wearing a tie with a tiger print, a nod to his childhood love for tigers. You were surprised that his fascination with the big cats had persisted, but you drew the line at a tiger tie. “Absolutely not,” you told him firmly, trying to imagine the looks you’d get. “A tiger tie is a no from me, and I think a lot of people would agree.”

“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh, but you could tell he was already thinking about how to sneak a little tiger motif into his outfit.

When it came to choosing your dress, you were accompanied by your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister. 

Soonyoung, the only man in the group, tagged along as well. The other brides at the boutique initially assumed he was either your brother or your stylist. 

Their jaws nearly dropped when they overheard he was actually the groom.

One of the brides, adjusting her veil in front of a mirror, turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, he’s your husband-to-be?”

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed with a smile, watching Soonyoung fuss over a lace detail on one of the dresses.

Another bride laughed softly. “Lucky you! He’s so involved.”

“He’s been amazing,” you said. “Except for his obsession with tiger prints.”

Soonyoung, overhearing, grinned and walked over. “What can I say? Tigers are cool.”

“Soonyoung, you’re a unique groom,” his sister teased, shaking her head.

As you tried on dresses, Soonyoung offered his opinions with surprising thoughtfulness, balancing out his more quirky suggestions. He was genuinely invested in making sure you felt beautiful and confident in your choice.

You’d tried on everything: the biggest gowns, the tightest silhouettes, dresses with endless layers of skirts, and others that hugged your hips so closely it felt like they were molded to your skin. 

There were corsets that took your breath away—literally—and fabrics that shimmered under the boutique lights. 

But this time, when you left the dressing room, you were wearing a veil.

Soonyoung’s eyes didn’t lie for a second. He liked this one very much. The women around you—your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister—fussed over the dress, adjusting it here and there, offering compliments. But Soonyoung was speechless.

If Soonyoung were to be completely honest, up until this moment, he had always seen you as his friend, the girl he was going to marry because of an arrangement. You were the same girl who used to run around the events, eluding the security guards with your mischievous giggles. 

But now, you were different. You were a woman. His woman. And you looked stunning.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. The transformation was breathtaking. You stood there, looking radiant in your wedding dress, and for the first time, the reality of the situation hit him. You weren’t just a friend anymore; you were about to become his partner, his wife.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t realize he was gawking until you and the women turned to him, waiting for his response. He blinked, snapping back to reality, and managed to find his voice.

“You look...” he started, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks flushed at his earnest compliment. “You really think so?”

Soonyoung nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

His sister grinned, nudging him playfully. “Told you she’d find the perfect dress.”

Your mom wiped away a tear, “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

Soonyoung’s mom stepped forward, adjusting a tiny detail on the veil. “This is the one. It’s perfect.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Yes, this is the one,” you said, smiling at the reflection and then at the people around you who made this moment even more special.

[...]

The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of activity. Every day brought something new to choose, and your creativity was running dry. You were worn out, and Soonyoung knew it. Today had been particularly exhausting.

As the realtor showed you yet another option for apartments in the Metropole, you responded with short answers, your enthusiasm long gone after visiting sixteen places that day alone.

“So, what do you think?” the realtor asked.

Soonyoung noticed your hesitation. “Can I talk with my wife for a sec?” he asked.

The realtor nodded and walked off, giving you space.

“Y/N-nie... are you okay?” Soonyoung asked softly, looking at you through his lashes.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’m so tired,” you confessed.

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You breathed out heavily. “My family is putting a lot of pressure on me, and I’m working relentlessly at the company. I can’t wait for us to get married…”

Soonyoung’s heart sank a little. “You want to get married just to get free from it?”

“No, it’s not just that. It’s everything. The wedding preparations, the constant decisions, the endless work... I feel like I’m drowning.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand. “We don’t have to rush this, you know. We can take our time.”

“But everyone’s expecting so much from us,” you replied, feeling the weight of expectations.

“Let them expect,” he said firmly. “And I want this to be as much about you as it is about us.”

“I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” you admitted.

“You won’t,” Soonyoung assured you. “You’ve already done so much. It’s okay to take a step back and breathe.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Alright. Let’s look at this apartment one more time.”

Soonyoung nodded, giving you an encouraging smile. “And if it’s not the one, we’ll keep looking until we find the perfect place for us.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “You always know how to make things better.”

“Just doing my job as your soon-to-be husband,” he said playfully.

Soonyoung was doing an incredible job. 

From what you’d heard from friends who had gone through the same situation, they didn’t have partners like Soonyoung. You felt proud of him. 

He was your rock, making sure you took a breath when you were overwhelmed by the slightest things. He even insisted you didn't move a finger during brunch, making you so relaxed that you found the apartment you’d been searching for on the very same day.

The drive home was quiet, the car enveloped in a peaceful silence that allowed you a moment to rest. You laid your head back as he drove, appreciating the tranquility. Once you arrived, you stayed seated for a bit, soaking in the comfort of the quiet.

Soonyoung looked at you, waiting patiently. When you finally looked up, he gave you a gentle smile. “Ready to go in?”

You nodded, feeling a bit more refreshed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He stepped out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door for you. “Take your time,” he said softly.

You appreciated his patience as you slowly got out of the car. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the house. “I’m just doing what any good partner would do.”

You leaned into him, feeling grateful for his support. “I don’t think everyone is as lucky as I am.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I’m pretty lucky too, you know.”

As you entered the house, you felt a sense of relief. The apartment search was over, and you had found the perfect place. More importantly, you had Soonyoung by your side, making every step of this journey easier.

“So, what’s next on our list?” he asked, guiding you to the living room.

You sank into the couch, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. “I think a nap is next on my list.”

He laughed, sitting beside you. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders. “Wake me up in an hour?”

[...]

The days flew by in a blur with the whirlwind of wedding preparations. It felt like only moments ago you were choosing flowers, tasting cakes, and finalizing guest lists. 

Now, as you stood at the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in front of Soonyoung, the reality of the moment hit you with full force.

The weight of the dress and the pressure of looking perfect made your hands sweat like never before. You felt like a porcelain doll, perfectly polished and poised.

Soonyoung stood there, his eyes fixed on you with pride. He couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Here you were, a perfect woman by his side, and even better, an old friend he'd known for years. 

The familiarity of your presence brought him comfort. Despite the fact that you hadn’t really dated, the idea of having someone as pretty and cool as you with him every day made him feel at ease about the whole situation.

As you walked down the aisle, your eyes met his, and a small, reassuring smile played on his lips. He looked stunning in his suit, and the way he stood tall, waiting for you, made your heart flutter. 

You could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes, mirroring your own, but there was also a calmness there, a silent promise that everything would be alright.

When you finally reached him, he extended his hand towards you. He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “You look amazing.”

You blushed, your nerves momentarily forgotten. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

The vows were sincere, filled with heartfelt words that spoke more to your shared friendship than any romantic notion. Both of you couldn’t help but giggle as you remembered all the crazy things you’d done together as kids. 

Your minds flashed to the time you stole sweets from an event or when you both jumped into a water fountain during an important dinner with company directors.

As the officiant declared you husband and wife, all of these memories became a sweet reverie. You leaned in and whispered with a playful glint in your eye, “Are you going to kiss my lips or my cheek?”

Soonyoung blushed, clearly caught off guard by the question. A kiss on the cheek was typical in such moments since most arranged couples didn’t share a romantic bond. He stammered for a moment, his face flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Well… uh… I suppose the cheek would be safe,” he mumbled, eyes darting nervously.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, leaning closer. “But where’s the fun in that, Soonyoung?”

He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly. The playful challenge in your gaze gave him the courage he needed. With a deep breath, he moved in, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I think I’ll go for the lips,” he whispered back, his voice steadying.

The crowd held its breath as Soonyoung leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a simple kiss, not passionate, but filled with the warmth of years of friendship and the promise of a shared future. The applause that followed was thunderous, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips against yours.

As you pulled away, you both wore matching grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you teased,

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not bad at all. Actually, it was kind of nice.”

You linked arms, turning to face the crowd together. Your parents looked relieved and proud, while your friends were cheering loudly, clearly entertained by the spectacle. Soonyoung’s eyes met yours again, and there was a newfound spark there, full of possibilities.

As you both shared champagne with your parents, Soonyoung playfully asked, "No tequila tonight?" You were about to respond when his mom's voice cut in, "Tequila?"

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his mouth twisted into a frown as he tried to suppress his laughter. You quickly improvised, "Huh, h-he meant... tacos! We had tacos with tequila last time, remember?" You forced a smile, hoping it sounded convincing enough. His mom seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding along.

After mingling with guests—aka talking with people from work about the next meeting—you finally found a moment to escape the spotlight. You and Soonyoung crouched behind the kitchen, hiding from the crowd. The chefs chuckled at the sight of the newlyweds sneaking bites of food, but they made sure to hand you the best eats, knowing how overwhelming the day could be.

Soonyoung grinned, playfully nudging you. "We're so used to doing this at parties that we're practically pros now."

You nodded in agreement, a mischievous smile on your face. "Even though it's our own wedding party," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, looking at the gold ring on your finger with a sense of wonder. "Our wedding... I still can't believe it. Oh my god, we're grown adults now."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pat his head mockingly. "We've been grown adults for... kind of a long time already," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then leaned in closer, his voice softening. "Yeah, but it feels different now. Like, we're really starting something new."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. The reality of your situation was sinking in, but in a way, it felt comforting. You had each other, and that made everything seem a little less daunting. As you sat there, hidden away from the chaos of the celebration, it struck you how much you appreciated this moment—just the two of you, stealing away for a breather.

“Shall we follow tradition?” Soonyoung asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You frown, confused, as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of tequila.

“Should tequila be kept in the fridge?” you ask, laughing at the sight.

“I hope so,” he replies, pouring the liquid into a cup. “This one is expensive.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking the cup from him. “The cheapest has the same effect,” you say, waiting for him to pour his own.

He chuckles, raising his glass. “But today’s a special day. We deserve the good stuff.”

You laugh it off, crossing your arms before taking the shot together. The familiar burn makes you both scrunch up your faces.

The wedding party was truly one of a kind. You and Soonyoung were a bit too excited, turning the waltz space into a wild dance floor. 

At first, your parents were too embarrassed to join, especially at the sight of Soonyoung twerking on you. But soon, even the directors and business partners were on the dance floor, dancing and drinking extravagantly.

[...]

The next morning, you and Soonyoung were woken up by the buzzing of your phones. 

Your makeup was smudged and stamped on the pillow, and you were still in your wedding dress. You scratched your scalp, feeling the bobby pins still tangled in your hair. 

Soonyoung was no better; his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly button, his tie was loosened around his neck, and his hair looked like a bird's nest. He scratched his forehead groggily. Despite sharing the same bed, you both seemed unbothered by it.

You grabbed your phone and saw the company group chat flooded with messages:

“Wow, last night was incredible! Congrats to the newlyweds!”

“I can't believe we all danced that much! My feet are killing me. :')”

“Best wedding party ever! So happy for you guys!”

“My head is pounding, but it was totally worth it. ^^ Cheers to you both!”

“I’m still recovering from all that dancing. What a party!”

“Never thought I’d see the CEO breakdancing. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”

You couldn't help but smile at the messages, as Soonyoung peeked over your shoulder, a sleepy grin spreading across his face.

“My head hurts,” Soonyoung complains, rubbing his temples.

You adjust the corset of your dress, feeling the tightness around your ribs. "My ribs are squeezed," you grumble, wincing as you try to get comfortable. "I can't believe I slept in this."

He yawns, glancing down at your leg. "You even kept the garter on," he points out, noticing the delicate band still around your thigh.

You crack your neck, feeling the weight of the long night. "Your sister gave it to me, so I put it on," you explain, lifting the voluminous skirt to reveal the bridal garter.

His eyes widen comically. "My sister?! Is there something I don't know?"

You frown at him, a bit confused. "You don’t know about the tradition?"

Soonyoung looks a bit lost, scratching his head. "I mean, it’s my first time getting married."

You sigh, laying back down. "Traditionally, the groom is supposed to take it off when... taking the virginity," you explain, watching his face turn a shade of pink.

His eyes dart around nervously, processing the information. "So... my sister thought I was... a virgin?"

You shrug, teasing, "Probably. Are you?"

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Definitely not. And you?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Nope. Sorry to disappoint."

He chuckles, finally relaxing. "Good to know. Not that it matters, but... it's funny to think about how everyone just assumes stuff."

“Are you going to take it off?” you tease, stretching your leg up and wiggling your foot playfully. Your eyes glint mischievously as you watch Soonyoung’s reaction.

He scoffs, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “What, you mean right now?” His eyes flicker to your thigh, then quickly back up to your face, trying to gauge if you’re serious or just messing with him.

You arch an eyebrow, maintaining your playful expression. “Why not? It’s tradition, right? Don’t you want to fulfill your husbandly duties?” You stretch your leg out further, making the garter more visible.

Soonyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s a sparkle of joy in his eyes. He reaches out hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your thigh. The touch sends a shiver to your skin, and you can’t help but giggle.

“What’s the matter?” you prod, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Not at all,” 

You bute your lip as his fingers graze the lacy fabric of the garter. His touch is feather-light, almost ticklish, and you squirm a bit under his hand.

Soonyoung smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re squirming,” he notes, his voice low and teasing. “Does that mean you’re nervous?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Me? Nervous? Please,” you retort, trying to sound confident despite the rapid beating of your heart. “I’m just surprised you’re taking so long. I thought you’d be an expert at this.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand a bit higher up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “Oh, I am,” he replies smoothly. “Just savoring the moment.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” you murmur, your voice softening slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on any other wedding traditions.”

Soonyoung grins, his fingers hooking under the garter. “Right, can’t forget those,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of naughtiness. 

He gently tugs on the garter, slowly sliding it down your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. 

As he finally slips the garter off, he holds it up triumphantly, a goofy grin on his face. “There, tradition fulfilled,” he declares, waving the garter like a trophy.

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Congratulations,” you say, clapping mockingly. “You’ve successfully removed a piece of elastic lace. Truly, a remarkable achievement.”

He bows dramatically, playing along. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.”

You can’t help but laugh, the light-hearted banter making the moment feel even more special. Soonyoung’s hand lingers on your leg for a moment longer before he finally lets go.

As Soonyoung gets up, stretching his arms with a yawn, he announces, "I'm going to take a bath." He heads towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You sit up, still feeling the effects of last night's festivities, and shout after him, “Ya! Ladies first!”

From behind the closed door, you hear Soonyoung's laughter echo in the bathroom. “Sorry, didn’t hear you over the sound of me already starting the water!” he calls back, his voice filled with playful defiance.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. It’s these little moments that make everything feel so natural and easy with him. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of running water stop, and Soonyoung emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“All yours,” he says, grinning. “I left some hot water for you, too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, grabbing your toiletries and heading into the bathroom. The warm water is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of makeup and the night's events. After a quick shower, you step out feeling slightly more human, though the hangover still lingers.

As you both finish getting ready, the thought of breakfast crosses your mind. However, just the idea of food makes your stomach churn. The hotel's breakfast spread is typically lavish, but today, the thought of greasy bacon and pastries is anything but appetizing.

Soonyoung, dressed in a casual outfit, catches your expression as you look at the food options. “Yeah, not feeling it either,” he says, rubbing his temple. “Let's skip it.”

You nod in agreement, both of you opting for just a coffee to stave off the worst of the hangover. With minimal conversation, you gather your belongings, checking out of the hotel and heading straight to the airport.

But one thing you definitely didn’t expect was Soonyoung falling asleep on your shoulder within the first thirty minutes of the flight. His head rested heavily against you, and his hand, seemingly by accident, was placed on your thigh. 

As he softly snored, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how comfortable he looked. Anyone passing by would probably think you two were an old married couple, so naturally attuned to each other.

His head's weight pressed down on your shoulder, a constant reminder of his presence. Every now and then, you felt him subconsciously moisturizing his lips, a small, almost imperceptible movement that somehow made the moment even more cute.

You glanced at the small TV screen in front of you, trying to focus on the movie playing. It was a romance novel adaptation, the kind with sweeping gestures and grand declarations of love.

Normally, you might have rolled your eyes at the cliché, but with Soonyoung sleeping peacefully beside you, it felt oddly fitting.

As the plane cruised through the sky, you found yourself getting lost in the storyline, occasionally glancing at Soonyoung. His breathing was steady, a gentle rhythm that added to the soothing hum of the plane. 

You shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable without disturbing him, but his hand tightened instinctively on your thigh, holding you in place. It was a small, protective gesture that made your heart flutter.

What you loved the most was when Soonyoung finally woke up, blinking sleepily and then immediately apologizing. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his face flushed with embarrassment. You chuckled, assuring him it was okay, that he had every right to rest. He seemed genuinely mortified, even offering, “You can sleep on my shoulder too, I promise.”

You smiled at his earnestness, brushing it off with a light, “Maybe on the way back, then,” as the announcement came that you were about to land.

Once you arrived, Soonyoung was quick to grab the suitcases from the taxi, his efficiency a comfort as you made your way to the hotel's check-in counter.

The concierge’s eyes seemed to linger on you a little too long, his gaze sliding over your sundress and perhaps admiring more than just the attire. 

As you waited for the receptionist, the concierge leaned casually on the counter, offering a friendly, yet slightly flirtatious, smile.

“First time here, ma’am?” he asked, his tone smooth and inviting.

“Well, yes...” you replied, keeping your voice polite but detached. You could feel the weight of his attention and tried to subtly stretch your hand, making sure the gold ring on your finger was clearly visible.

The concierge didn’t seem to get the hint, or perhaps he chose to ignore it. “You’re in for a treat. We’ve got some wonderful spots for—”

Before he could continue, you felt Soonyoung's presence behind you, a comforting warmth at your back. His body pressed lightly against yours, a subtle yet possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. His hand slipped around your waist, resting just below your belly, the touch gentle but unmistakably protective.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Everything alright?” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and a subtle edge.

You could almost feel the shift in the air. The concierge straightened up, his expression flickering between surprise and a polite smile. “Oh, just making sure your stay is perfect,” he said, his tone now more professional, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung replied, his voice steady. His hand didn’t move from its spot on your belly, and the slight squeeze he gave was enough to send a clear message. You leaned back into him, feeling a rush of warmth at his silent claim.

The receptionist finally returned with your room keys, handing them over with a bright, “Welcome to our hotel! We hope you enjoy your stay.” With the keys in hand, you and Soonyoung made your way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, sealing you both from the world outside, you turned to Soonyoung with a smirk. “Looks like someone’s a little possessive.”

He grinned back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

You tease him back with a playful smirk. “Well, it’s just a business marriage. You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that,” you say, your tone light and slightly mocking.

Soonyoung scoffs, turning his gaze to the side with a dramatic sigh. “You’re such an idiot,” he mocks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“An idiot, hm?” you counter, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Well, I’m an idiot you agreed to marry, so I guess that makes you twice the fool.”

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Sharp tongue of yours, huh?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I’ve had years of practice.”

Soonyoung leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, it’s a shame. I was really looking forward to giving you something special once we got to our hotel room.”

Your curiosity piques immediately. “Something special? Like what?”

He grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, just something that’ll make you remember tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge his meaning. “Something that’ll make me remember tonight, huh? Care to elaborate?”

Soonyoung chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I think you already know what I’m talking about.”

You narrow your eyes, playfully challenging him. “Do I? Because you’re being awfully vague.”

He leans back, enjoying the game. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The teasing glint in his eyes only fuels your curiosity further. You know exactly what he’s implying, but you play along, eager to hear him say it outright.

“So,” you press, “what is it? Can you give me a hint?”

Soonyoung’s grin widens, clearly relishing the moment. “Let’s just say it’s something that’ll make you very excited. And not just because of the hotel’s decor.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re being all mysterious.”

You sulk, trailing behind Soonyoung as he walks down the hallway toward your room. “Tell me, pleeeease,” you plead.

Soonyoung glances back at you with a mischievous smile. “Nope, not telling,” he says, his grin widening as he enjoys your insistence.

When you reach the door, Soonyoung unlocks it and pushes it open, gesturing for you to enter. You walk in, your eyes scanning the room briefly, but your focus quickly returns to Soonyoung. He places the suitcases by the door and then hops onto the bed, sprawling out with a relaxed sigh.

You stay standing by the door, your arms crossed over your chest, giving him a sulky, upset look. 

“So,” Soonyoung says with a defiant glare, “am I forgetting something?”

You pout, trying to look as curious and frustrated as possible. “You’ve got me curious,” you admit, your eyes wide.

He laughs, brushing his hand through his hair with a playful sigh. “You’re almost throwing a tantrum over this?”

Soonyoung slides his hand down his abdomen slowly, getting lower and lower, until he's wrapping his fingers around his cock through his white shorts. The outline is clear, thick, and perfectly defined against the fabric.

He gives it a little shake, a sly smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

You stare at him in shock, your knees almost giving way as you take in the sight. Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as you struggle to process what you're seeing.

Soonyoung’s smile widens, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Well, I figured it was time to give you a little hint,” he says, his hand still resting casually on his bulge. “So, do you think you’re ready to find out what else I have in store for tonight?”

You stammer, unable to look away from the outline of his cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. “Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

Soonyoung licks his lips, his gaze never leaving you. “Oh,” he drawls, “but you have to walk properly tonight, so we can go to the restaurant.”

Your eyes darken, a fire igniting within you. “You think I can’t handle all of this inside?” 

He raises an eyebrows. “You shouldn’t,” he says, his voice dripping with devilishness. “It’s just a business wedding, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Just a business wedding, huh? You really want to test me?”

Soonyoung chuckles, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “That’s right. Let’s see if you can keep your composure while we enjoy a nice dinner.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Challenge accepted,” 

You’ve never been so turned on by someone’s mere presence before. The entire city tour was a cruel game of torture, all at Soonyoung’s hands. 

In the taxi, his hand had wandered to your nude thigh, brushing against your skin like a feather. The way his fingers lightly caressed your inner leg made your heart race and your breath catch. 

At the restaurant, the casual caresses continued. His leg pressed against yours under the table, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the way he would occasionally let his knee slide up your thigh—each movement was like an electric current surging through you, leaving you squirming in your seat.

Walking through the jewelry fair was an exercise in restraint. As you admired the sparkling displays, Soonyoung’s hands kept drifting to the exposed skin of your back. His touch was light, almost playful, but each graze against your bare skin made you shiver with need. 

You could barely focus on the dazzling jewels in front of you; your mind was consumed with the need for him.

By the time you were back in the elevator, you felt like you were on the edge of losing control. You could feel his eyes on you, sharp and hungry, as you pressed yourself against the wall. 

You turned your face away, but you couldn’t hide the truth from him. Your nipples, straining against your dress, betrayed your arousal. Your legs, pressed tightly together, were a clear sign of your desperation. Even your unsteady breaths gave you away.

When you finally arrived at the hotel room, you barely made it inside before your desperation took over. 

You throw him against the wall, hands planted firmly on his chest. The sound reverberates through the room, probably making the neighbors wonder what the hell is going on. His usually small eyes are wide, staring at you flaggerblasted. 

Your breath mingles with his as you lean in, letting your lips barely graze his. Your voice comes out breathy, almost desperate, “Please. Stop teasing me.”

For a moment, he's stunned, caught off guard by the whininess in your voice and the look on your face—like you might break if he doesn't give you what you need right now.

It's a twisted scenario, considering you're his childhood friend turned wife is standing before him with an expression that borders on agony—an agony only he can alleviate.

For a moment, he looks like he might laugh, but he knows he's on the verge of losing all sense of control, but a part of him relishes the idea. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't resist the thrill. His lips barely brush against yours, teasing, taunting.

“Soonyoung, I'm going to fucking cry if you don't—”

“Hold it,” he commands,you shudder, your breath hitching as he lifts your dress. And you comply, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep it out of the way. 

His hand slides down the front of your panties, and your head falls back. 

Soonyoung leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re so fucking impatient,” he growls. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, finding you wet and wanting, throbbing everytime he rubs his fat fingers on you. “You’ve never even tasted my cock, and you’re already obsessed, huh?” He presses his thumb against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand. You can barely think straight. “Please, Soonyoung,” you beg again, your voice cracking.

He chuckles darkly, clearly relishing your desperation. “You want my cock so bad, don't you?” His fingers slide inside you, curling just right, and you cry out. “You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you scream my name?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. The words spill out of you, unfiltered and raw. “I want you to ruin me.”

“You’ve never had anyone fill you up like I will,” he says. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good, baby. You’ll be begging for more, even when you can’t take it.”

The dirty talk, the sheer vulgarity of his words, makes you even wetter. You feel like you're on the verge of losing control, and it's rousing. 

Soonyoung's fingers pump in and out of you, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His thumb rubs relentless circles on your clit, and you can feel the tension building, winding tighter and tighter.

“You’re gonna cum on my fingers first,” he whispers. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for days. Is that what you want, baby? To be fucked so good, you can’t even think about anything else?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you pant, your voice high and desperate. You can feel the orgasm building, Soonyoung's touch is all-consuming, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.“So eager to please. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Here and there, Soonyoung is driving you insane with his body affixed to the wall, one strong arm holding your leg up. His wrist swiveling to match his fingers as they explore your weeping cunt and his repetitive rubbing of the areas that cause you to roll your eyes. 

You cry out, gasping as you roll your hips onto his fingers, the orgasm making you forget what would be appropriate at the time. Soonyoung's fingers work you through it, drawing out every last drop of you.

As you come down from the high, you realize you're still clinging to him, fingers deep on his muscular shoulders, your breaths coming in hiccups. Soonyoung pulls his fingers out of you, and you feel a pang of loss.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you can barely stand. Soonyoung catches you, pulling you close. 

Soonyoung's eyes rake over you, his smirk widening as he takes in the sight of your trembling legs. “You're trembling,” he chuckle. His gaze drops to the slick mess between your thighs, and he bites his lip, clearly reveling in the sight. “Better than this... you're literally dripping,” appreciating. 

He lets your leg down, holding you firmly as he guides you back onto the bed. The plush mattress sinks under your weight.

“God forgive me,” he continues, “but if our mothers weren't in that dressing room that day, I would've fucked you right there in the store. With that princess veil of yours... I would've pinned you against the mirror and made you scream my name.”

Your mouth falls open. The image of him taking you into that bridal shop, surrounded by white lace and satin, ​​hitting you like a punch to the gut.

You're not sure what shocks you more: his bold declaration or the way your body reacts to it, growing wetter with every word.

He smirks at your reaction.

“What's the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?" He teases. His fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. “Or are you just too turned on to speak?"

He's right; you're completely at his mercy, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

He strips off his shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, then shucks off his shorts. His erection strains against the fabric of his boxers, and he groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he palms himself.

“I could've fucked you on that altar,” he visualize. "In front of all those guests. Just to show everyone that no matter how arranged this marriage was, you're mine. No one else's.”

He opens his eyes, locking onto yours. “I would've spread you open right there, had you screaming my name, showing them all who you belong to."

His dirty words, the way he claims you with every syllable, makes your head spin.

Soonyoung's hand moves over his bulge, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don't even know how much I've wanted you,” he hisses. “How much I want to fuck you senseless, make you mine in every way.”

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “And tonight, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget about everyone else. Just me, and this cock inside you, filling you up until you can't think straight.”

You squirm, your body responding to his filthy promises. You can't tear your eyes away from him, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the night holds. 

Soonyoung's fingers brush against the hem of your dress, and you shudder at the contact. “Take it off,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want you naked, spread out on this bed, ready for me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you know he's not just asking—he's demanding. 

You slip your dress over your head, tossing it aside as you finally catch sight of Soonyoung completely naked. His hand moves over his erection, the cockhead glistening with precum. The sight makes you lick your lips.

“Can you—” he starts to ask, but you cut him off, not needing him to finish.

“Yes!” you nearly moan. His eyes darken, a smirk playing on his lips as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You take a moment to appreciate the sight before you. His cock is thick and veined, the head an angry red, glossy with precum. You can almost taste it just from looking.

Tentatively, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. It's musky and slightly bitter, but it makes you want to choke on this cock. You swirl your tongue around the head, savoring the taste and the way his breath hitches above you.

Soonyoung's hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer. “Yes, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with need. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. The texture of his cock is smooth yet rigid, the veins pulsating against your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you bob your head, taking more of him with each movement.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and you hear a strangled moan escape his lips. “Shit, that feels so good,” he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The sight of him looking down at you, his face twisted in pleasure, spurs you on.

You slide your hand up his thigh, wrapping it around the base of his cock to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. Your other hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you continue to suck him. 

You hum around his length, sending vibrations through him. He shudders, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “You're so fucking good at this,” he praises, his voice breathless. “So eager, so perfect.”

You moan around his cock at the praise. You take him deeper, pushing your limits as you feel him hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but push through, wanting to please him, wanting to show him how much you want this.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his hips bucking forward again. “You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that.”His voice is strained, you don't know if he's warning you or if he's desperate.

You don't let up, doubling your efforts. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head every time you pull back. Your hand continues to pump the base of his cock, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You can feel him throbbing, his cock pulsing with need.

Soonyoung's moans grow louder, more desperate. His breaths come in uneven pants, his body tense with the need for release. “Fuck, Y/N, I'm so close,” he warns, his voice breaking.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you take him even deeper. You want to see him come undone, to watch him lose control because of you. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, and with one last swirl of your tongue, he lets out a choked moan.

He comes hard, his hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. The taste of his release floods your senses, warm and salty. You swallow every drop, savoring the way he trembles above you. His hand in your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out his orgasm.

His hand gently strokes your hair after, a contrast to the rough grip from moments before. You pull back, licking your lips and savoring the last taste of him.

He lifts you up effortlessly, his lips crashing into yours. He doesn't care that his cock was just in your mouth seconds ago or that his cum lingers on your tongue. The taste of himself on your lips makes him moan, the sound vibrating between you.

After a moment, he pulls back, one hand wrapping around your throat, not tight but firm enough to make you feel his presence. His eyes bore into yours, as he licks his sensitive lips.

“You were sucking me so good,” he rasps, “that I almost said ‘I love you’.” 

A laugh bursts out of you, hearty and genuine, and he watches you with a smirk. 

“I swear,” he continues, his tone playful. “if I'd known marrying you would come with benefits like this, I would've done it way sooner.” “I feel like I owe you something after that blowjob,” he says, his voice dropping into a deeper, more sultry tone.

You bite your lip, a dirty thought flashing through your mind, and Soonyoung picks up on it immediately. Soonyoung's gaze narrows, reading the filth in your expression

“What is it? What do you want?” he asks excitedly.

“Can you fuck me… doggy style?” you ask.

“Yes, I can,” The corners of his mouth twitch, barely holding back a grin.

You look up, pretending to be lost in thought, then say, “Can you fuck me in missionary?”

He nods again, biting his lip, his grip on your throat tightening just a little.

“Can you fuck me inside… the shower?” 

He presses you tightly against him, his hand gripping your waist possessively, but your gaze still eating him whole. 

“I can fuck you upside down, sideways, any way you want, baby,” he answers, his voice steady and confident. “Just say the word, and I'll make it happen.”

You moan in response. Too early to say that you're already dumb for his cock?

“Get on all fours and lift that pretty ass for me.”

As you crawl up the bed, you make sure to put on a show. You arch your back, lifting your ass higher, giving Soonyoung the view he wants. You wiggle it a little, teasing him. 

The motion makes your pussy lips part slightly, already slick and ready for him. You can feel his eyes on you, burning with thirst. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp. You let out a yelp. You know that mark will be there tomorrow, like a postmark, like a stamp, like a reminder of this moment, and the thought makes you even wetter.

He moves behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. You feel his hands on your hips, gripping you firmly as he positions himself. You can't help but push back against him, seeking more contact.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, running his hands over the curves of your ass, squeezing the flesh and kneading it roughly. He spreads you open, taking in the sight of your wetness.  “Look at how ready you are for me. You're dripping, baby.”

You moan, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “Please, Soonyoung, I need you.”

“Fuck, you sound so desperate,” he taunts, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides against your folds, teasing you, making you whimper. “Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

“Please, Soonyoung, fuck me,” you whine. “I need your cock inside me, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

He doesn't tease, doesn't make you wait any longer. He thrusts in with one hard, deep stroke, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion makes you cry out, a slight discomfort as your walls stretch around him. But it makes your toes curl. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, gripping your hips as he starts to move. “So fucking tight and wet for me. You feel that? That’s my cock stretching your pussy.”

You moan loudly, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Yes, Soonyoung, I feel it. It feels so good. Fuck me harder.”

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. The sudden burst of pleasure makes you gasp, your body jolting.

He pulls back slowly, only to slam back in, setting a rough, punishing rhythm, making you roll your eyes back.

He's so deep, hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Each thrust makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan loudly, not caring if the entire hotel hears you. The stretch, the fullness, it's all so overwhelming, so fucking good.

“Come on,” he urges, voice a low growl. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you squeeze this cock.”

It's all too much. The feel of his cock, his fingers on your clit, the dirty words spilling from his lips—it all sends you over the edge. The second orgasm of the night making you feel already exhausted. Your voice hoarse, as you feel yourself sloppier between your legs. 

There's no mercy in his movements; he's fucking you through your high, pushing you beyond your limits. Each time he hits your cervix, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain ripples through you, making your arms tremble uncontrollably.

You try to hold yourself up, but your strength falters. With a soft cry, your arms give out, and your chest falls against the bed. Soonyoung lets out a low chuckle, a smug grin spreading across his face as he watches you crumble beneath him. Even with your body slack, you're impossibly tight around him, your pussy squeezing him like a vice. 

Soonyoung’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continues to pound into you from behind. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you, making your walls clench involuntarily around him. 

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the pride in his voice as he coos, “Aww, look at you. So fucking helpless, so fucking wrecked. You can’t even hold yourself up, can you?” 

You can barely muster a response, a breathy whimper escaping your lips as you feel the tears start to stream down your cheeks. It’s an almost incredulous feeling, the tears mixing with the sweat on your face. 

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never been pushed to the brink and then beyond, your body betraying you as it trembles under his control. It’s a raw, visceral experience that leaves you gasping for air, your mind a hazy blur of feel.

Soonyoung notices the tears, and his smirk grows wider. “Look at you, crying for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Is it too much, baby? Too fucking good? Love being fucked so hard you can’t even think straight?” 

His hand moves from your hip to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your back even more. The angle shifts, and he hits that perfect spot inside you, making you moan loudly, your voice cracking with the intensity of it all.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips snapping forward with even more force. “God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” He punctuates his words with deep, hard thrusts that leave you reeling, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body.

“So pretty when you cry,” he continues, his tone almost taunting. “I could do this all day, just watch you fall apart on my cock” His words are filthy, degrading, but they ignite something inside you, a desperate need for more. 

The way he speaks to you, the way he claims you with each word and each thrust, is addictive.

You can’t hold back your sobs. “Please,” you manage to choke out, not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. 

More, less, anything—just something to ease the dizzying sensation coursing through you.

He laughs softly, a dark, knowing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Please what, baby? You want me to stop? You want me to fuck you harder?” 

He pulls out almost completely, the emptiness leaving you gasping, and then slams back in with a force that makes your whole body jolt.

“You’re so fucking greedy. Can’t get enough, can you? You want this cock to ruin you, want me to fuck you so good you’ll feel it for days.”

All you can do is moan and sob, your body shuddering with each thrust as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, it’s dirty, raw, and utterly nasty.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. 

And as you feel the tension building inside you again, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your belly—you know he’s right.

He lays you gently on the bed, your back sinking into the mattress. Your face, flushed and glistening with sweat, looks completely wrecked, completely exhausted. Soonyoung feels a brief flicker of pity, but it quickly dissipates as you babble out your dirty words, barely coherent but dripping with need. “Please... Soonyoung... more, need you so bad... fuck…”

He smirks, spreading your wobbly legs apart, exposing the slick, swollen mess between them. “You can barely form a sentence, and yet you still want more.”

He slides his cock back inside you, stretching you open once more. 

Soonyoung's thumb finds your clit again, and he begins to work it in slow, light-touch circles. The sensation is maddening, a delicious contrast to the deep, methodical thrusts of his cock. 

He watches your face intently, drinking in every expression, every gasp and whimper."That's it, baby," he coos. “Let me see that pretty face when you cum.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body overly sensitive from the previous orgasms, but he doesn't let up.

His other hand moves to your chest, fondling your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple before sliding up to wrap around your throat. This time, the grip is firm, real, and you can feel the delicious pressure as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin.

He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer as if you could merge with him, become one. The scent of sweat and skin mingling in the air—it all consumes you. 

Your body is trembling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, a white-hot band of pressure that threatens to snap. Soonyoung's moans are louder now, but they seem distant, like they're coming from underwater, muffled by the roaring in your ears.

His pace quickens, and you feel yourself losing control, your mind slipping away from the physical world. The room, the bed, even Soonyoung—all of it fades into the background. 

There's only the blinding, all-encompassing pleasure that fills every nerve, every cell in your body. It's like being pulled under a wave, the sensation crashing over you with a force that's almost violent.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, and you can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, the buildup to your orgasm reaching its peak.

And then, it hits. The climax rips through you, a white-hot explosion that leaves you gasping, the world narrowing down to the blinding sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

Your back arches off the bed, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your vision goes white. The intensity is mind-numbing, erasing everything else from your mind except the overwhelming euphoria that pulses through you.

Your body shakes with the force of it, your legs quivering, toes curling as the pleasure radiates outward from your core. You can feel the slickness between your thighs, the way your walls flutter and squeeze around Soonyoung, pulling him deeper inside you. 

Soonyoung's name falls from your lips in a choked sob, your voice hoarse and trembling. 

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the weight of Soonyoung's body on top of you, his cum warm and sticky between your bellies.

Soonyoung pants loudly, trying to catch his breath. He lifts his head slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes despite the satisfied smile on his lips. “You okay, wifey?” he asks.

You manage a weak smile, still feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. “I’m okay, hubby,”

His smile widens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmurs. “You were amazing.”

You chuckle softly, the sound a bit strained. “You weren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, your hand coming up to rest on his back, feeling the muscles still taut from effort.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your own. “Glad I could satisfy my wife on our first night together,” 

“Think we should clean up?” Soonyoung asks after a while.

“Probably,” you agree, though neither of you makes a move to get up just yet. You’re too content, too wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Soonyoung shifts, carefully pulling away from you. The cool air hits your skin, making you shiver slightly. He helps you sit up, his hands gentle and supportive as you both make your way to the bathroom.

The weight of the wedding ring on your finger feels heavier now, more symbolic than ever. It’s not just a piece of jewelry; it’s a constant reminder of the commitment you’ve made and the life you’re building together.

Soonyoung, despite his own exhaustion, is kneeling beside the tub, gently washing you. His focused expression as he works to make sure you’re clean and comfortable. The sight of him, so dedicated and caring, makes your heart swell.

You feel a pang of guilt as you see the tiredness etched on his face, a reminder of how much he’s given for you, both physically and emotionally. Your legs, still trembling from the aftermath of the passion, had given up on you, leaving you reliant on him. The thought of him taking care of you, even in his weariness, makes you feel both grateful and a bit ashamed.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage on my own.”

Soonyoung looks up at you, his eyes softening as he smiles. “I want to,” he says quietly. “You took care of me earlier, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. Besides, it’s kind of nice, being able to do this for you.”

You look him in the eye and sense the truth in his words. His warm, comforting smile belies the weariness that is evident in the lines on his face. 

[...]

As you and Soonyoung lie together in bed, the room is quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from either of you. The memories of what just happened still lingers in the air, making both of you feel a bit shy and stunned.

As Soonyoung lays his head on your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He sighs contentedly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns around your breast. 

“So,” he begins, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of playfulness, “when I hinted at what I wanted, I honestly didn’t think you'd go for it. I was kind of... hoping, but also preparing for a rejection.”

You chuckle softly, your fingers running through his hair. “Oh really? And why not?”

“Well, for one, you’re ridiculously hot. I didn’t think you’d be that into it right off the bat.”

You giggle, feeling a rush of confidence. “Oh, come on. Why wouldn’t I? You’re hot, and let’s be honest, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Damn, so you think I’m hot, huh? And here I was thinking I’d have to put in a little more effort.” He rises to look at you, but you make him lay again, your cheeks flushed.

“I can’t believe we managed to go from ‘I do’ to ‘Let’s fuck’ in just a few days. We really don’t waste any time, do we?” You say, grinning. 

“Yeah, I guess I underestimated how much I’d resist you, but I knew I was in trouble from the moment we got married… I thought I’d be a strong soldier, holding out a bit longer.”

He hums thinking. 

“I’m surprised I managed to hold out for as long as I did.” he finishes.

You raise an eyebrow, a naughty smile playing on your lips. "Well, I guess you’re not as disciplined as you thought. Seems like you fell for me quicker than you’d like to admit.”

Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle. “You’ve got me completely hooked.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, your hand resting on his cheek. “Poor soldier. Captured by the enemy and all. What will you do now?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. "I guess I’ll just have to surrender to you completely.”

“Even the strongest can fall. And let’s be real, I’m pretty good at making sure my soldiers surrender.” You shrugged, smirking. 

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, you really know how to make a guy feel like a total pushover.”

“I plan on keeping you hooked, you know—well, at least until the next time we have a ‘conversation’ like tonight."

“Well, if this is what marriage looks like, I think I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[honeytonedhottie]

celebrity energy⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💅🏽

so i got an ask about this a while ago and i wanted to make a post about it but i went on hiatus 😭 so im making the post now. thank you to the anonie who asked the question that inspired this post and i hope you see this cuz it answers ur ask...💬🎀

THE TRIPLE C'S ;

while making the notes for celebrity energy (the big C) and i was able to umbrella it to three main points. those points being confidence, cuntiness, and charisma.

confidence ; celebrities need to have undeniable confidence in themselves and their abilities. they're famous for a reason and they know that. work on ur self concept and watch ur confidence sky rocket.

cuntiness ; to be cunty is to be feminine and aware of urself. be cunty in the things that u do and the way that u handle urself. to be cunty is to find the perfect balance of inner strength and delicateness. cunt = refined.

charisma ; authenticity is the heart of charisma. be authentic and dont be afraid to take up space.

ALL ABOUT IMAGE ;

to have celebrity you need an image to put forward. this is where the power of social media comes in. your social media is like your brand. in this day and age social media is such a powerful tool not only for networking but also for getting u into places that u wanna get to.

in order to do that though u need to learn how to formulate ur own distinct image and advertise it expertly on social media.

PERSONAL BRAND AND REPUTATION ;

to further touch on those points ur social media IS your brand. this section kind of ties in with the next but im trying to distinguish between the two. so ur personal brand is what u do. so lets say ur rly SUPER smart and ur known for getting A's on like everything.

that is ur personal brand and that comes with a reputation that u may or may not feel obligated to uphold. but its important to uphold a reputation of some sort. with that being said be careful of what u post on ur social media because DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS REAL. and when people look at ur social media they're seeing a representation of what ur putting out to the world so always be mindful.

WHATS UR SIGNATURE ;

you need something about yourself that’s gonna set you apart. the way that you walk the way that you dress the way that you do ur makeup etc. decide what kind of energy u wanna serve, and SERVE IT. i choose to serve princess energy and i could write a whole separate post on that but find someone who serves that same energy so that u can learn from them.

remember, dont introduce urself as a vibe that u cannot maintain

but back to what we were talking about what is your SIGNATURE. what makes u or people think "yea thats so (insert ur name)" is the way that u talk or the way that u carry yourself. make sure to refine urself and be ur own distinct individual.

and dont be afraid to play around with signatures, ur allowed to have a few or one singular one, dont limit urself and keep trying until u can create the perfect one for you…💬🎀

while on the topic of signatures i wanna touch on STAR QUALITY. learn how to market urself not only as a person but as ur own brand. star quality is the perfect blend of (talent + training + confidence)

POLISH YOURSELF ;

refinement refinement refinement. u need to be studying yourself and you need to be able to see urself from other point of views. seeing urself from other point of views can be so refreshing and useful and it rly helps when ur trying to polish urself.

take impeccable care for urself and constantly show urself that u love urself. polish the way that u talk and the way that u carry yourself so that u can be exuding so much you-energy. its basically taking ur signature and the energy that u exude -> and refining it.

you have to create the energy before fame comes. if u wanna have celebrity energy u have to start getting comfortable with putting urself out there which leads me to my next point...💬🎀

KILL CRINGE ;

when people call u cringe thats like them exposing their fear of being seen and analyzed by the world. they're upset because ur putting urself out there and they're insecure, but thats for them to fix within themselves. so dont take it personally when someone calls u cringe.

furthermore ur fear of being cringe is holding u back because ur always overthinking everything and u won't let urself do anything even if it'll help you because ur worried it might be cringe or ur worried what other people think so nip that in the bud and let urself live! u might have haters but dont let urself be ur own hater.

SOME MORE SOURCES ;

THE IMPORTANCE OF BRANDING

MIRROR WORK + AFFIRMATIONS

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - mentions of kidnapping/imprisonment, implied alcohol consumption, and reader referred to as 'mother'/'mom' but otherwise gender-neutral.

You let yourself into Arlecchino’s study exactly four strokes after midnight. Even from the doorway, she could see the crimson stain of wine on your lips, the tell-tale lilt to your posture. Clearly, your chosen habitat that night had been the House of the Hearth’s wine cellar – a not completely unusual pastime of yours, on its own. The fact that you were coming to her after drinking your fill was more notable.

She allowed you to stumble from the doorway to her desk before ever glancing up from the correspondence she was attempting to will herself to finish. Whichever one of her vintages you’d favored, it must’ve given you the strength to withstand the weight of the gaze you were always so quick to shy away from, the courage to all-but lay yourself across the crowded tabletop. Despite your new dauntlessness, your expression was sullen, your eyes glassy with tears yet to flow over. It was a face she was used to seeing in the confines of her chambers, or better yet, on the edge of her knee as she kept you perched in her lap through an otherwise dull meeting. Familiarity alone might’ve been enough to soften her, had she had any idea as to the source of your apparent distress.

 You didn’t speak until you were settled. Arlecchino remained patient, limiting herself to a slight smile and the melodic drumming of pointed nails against polished mahogany. “Peruere,” you drawled, her given name a honey-sweet slur on your tongue. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“I see.” It took every ounce of her impressive self-restraint not to laugh aloud. “What a shame. Remind me exactly what it is we can’t do, love?”

“I can’t do this.” You gave a sweeping gesture, nearly violent enough to knock yourself off-balance. “It’s not you—I mean, it is you, with the kidnapping and imprisonment and all, but aside from that, I just—” A deep, shuddering breath, followed shortly by a pitchy, almost keening noise. “I’m just not ready to be a mother.”

This time, Arlecchino couldn’t stop herself – a single, breathy chuckle slipping past her lips. Your frowned deepened, and she did her best to sober quickly. “I’m sorry, I—” She steepled her fingers in front of her, leaning forward to rest her chin on the point of intersection. “I suppose I wasn’t aware you were going to be.”

If you heard, you clearly weren’t listening. Rather unceremoniously, the glass splintered; your thin veneer of composure falling away as the first tear broke free, shortly followed by a second, then a third. She lost count somewhere around the dozenth. “It’s not that I don’t love your children,” you started, your voice cracking as you struggled to wipe at your eyes between words. “I mean, I love them all in spite of them being yours, which is actually really impressive because I find you so unbearably off-putting to be around, but— I’m sorry, I’m just not ready for this level of responsibility. There’s… how many? Fifty of them? Two hundred?”

“My love.” She pushed herself to her feet, dulling her voice into the softest, smoothest possible coo. “Isn’t it about time for you to retire for the night?”

“How could you possibly want to go to sleep at a time like this?” You were sobbing now, rather unabashedly. All attempts to maintain your dignity had been laid aside in favor of burying your face in your palms and hanging your head almost pitifully low. “I have five hundred kids to take care of!”

Whether you were too distracted to notice her arms wrapping around you or simply too panicked to care, it would’ve been impossible to say. You failed to protest as she pulled you against her chest, only sniffling miserably and burying your face in her coat. “You seem to have forgotten that ‘Father’ is only a title,” she murmured as gently as she could, letting her lips brush against the top of your head, then your tear-stained cheek. “Most of my children have already grown out of the need for a true mother and father, and I doubt those who haven’t view either of us in a very paternal light. Do you understand?”

There was a delay, but she felt you nod against her chest. Arlecchino could only sigh, already moving to exit her study. “Let’s get you to bed, dear.”

~

You were still unconscious by the time she rose the next morning, no doubt putting off the inevitable hangover. She left you where you lied and, after making sure a pitcher of water would be waiting for you when you woke up, went about her obligations.

It was only a few hours later that, during a conversation with Lyney, he seemed to pause, to glance to either side. Whatever he’d planned to say was quickly forgotten in favor of a new tangent. “I don’t think I’ve seen mom yet, today.”

At that, Arlecchino perked up. “Mom?”

He caught himself quickly, straightening. “Mother, I mean. (Y/n). My apologies, Lynette's disregard must be rubbing off on me.”

She took a moment to purse her lips, to do what she often did best and consider the information that’d been laid at her feet. “Lyney,” she said, eventually, when she’d made up her mind.

“Next time you use that name, make sure your mother is within earshot.”