#they are in the story that's why i tag them

[end-otw-racism]

We here at End OTW Racism oppose this decision.

Not only is this inconsistent with their existing policies, but it’s also unnecessary, unasked-for, and causes issues for those already writing about Sam Wilson as Captain America. 

Primarily, we’re concerned that there are many Sam Wilson fans and many MCU fans of color in the comments declaring that they oppose this decision, which raises questions: who asked for this? How did this become such a pressing concern that it needed to happen now? Who decided this? Given the cultural context of pushback against having Black actors cast in roles originated by white actors, including the #NotMyCap movement, this decision seems to cater to the worst of fandom, further marginalizing stories about Black characters and treating stories about white characters as the “neutral default.”

We, the team behind End OTW Racism, wanted to speak on this issue not because we're personally invested in the MCU fandom, but because we wanted to use this opportunity to highlight how AO3 specifically (and the OTW generally) makes institutional decisions that uphold racist biases, perhaps without even intending to do so. We’re also concerned at the lack of transparency behind this decision - there is no indication how or why this decision has been made, nor by whom and what spurred them to decide this now, in a current cultural and political climate that’s grown ever more hostile to Black people.

Regarding their existing policies: they cite James Bond as example, but James Bond films often change continuity with each successive actor, and Sam Wilson as Captain America exists in the same continuity, timeline, and universe as Steve Rogers as Captain America in Disney’s MCU. Moreover, there are several counter-examples where fandoms aren’t split off into a new tag when a new lead is introduced to the same storyline/continuity - as mentioned in the comments on this post, AO3 hasn’t done this for Bridgerton or Doctor Who (among others). 

The Bond parallel is further irrelevant because the actors are all playing a character with the same name. Captain America is a title that multiple characters have assumed. In other fandoms, when there are multiple characters with the same title (such as Doctor Who and Black Panther), current practice seems to be to use character and freeform tags to disambiguate, which many commenters on this announcement confirm.

The cited existence of non-MCU Captain America films also doesn’t hold water, as The Flash seems to be disambiguated just fine with its myriad of tags, including The Flash (Movie 2023), The Flash (TV 1990), and The Flash (TV 2014). Many other comic books and comics adapted into tv and film likewise don’t seem to suffer from having multiple continuities and multiple actors as leads of similarly-titled projects, sometimes released simultaneously. Changing the tag to “Captain America (MCU films)” would disambiguate between MCU/non-MCU film continuities very well, without needing to isolate “Sam Wilson as Captain America” stories away from the rest of the MCU films in which he plays such a prominent role. 

This decision also seems to default all existing MCU Captain America stories to the Chris Evans as Captain America tag, which requires all authors who’ve written about Sam Wilson as Captain America to do the labor of “fixing” their stories, as if they’ve been the ones to mistag their work. This also doesn’t take into account the many Alternate Universe stories and such that may feature Sam Wilson as Captain America prior to him taking on the mantle in canon, putting those authors in a bind as to where their stories “belong.”

We encourage those who are similarly opposed to this decision to write to AO3 with their concerns: https://archiveofourown.org/support

If you need a sample script, you are welcome to use or adapt the following: 

Dear Tag Wrangling Team, 

I am writing to you to express disapproval of the planned changes to the Captain America tag by splitting it into "Captain America (Chris Evans Movies) " and "Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies)" and to encourage the OTW to change the tag to "Captain America (MCU)" instead. 

Sincerely, [Your Name]

On Your Left! — Changes to Captain America Fandom Tags

Hello! In the near future, Marvel tag wranglers will be updating fandom tags on AO3 to separate the upcoming Captain America movies featuring Sam Wilson as Captain America from the trilogy of films with Steve Rogers as Captain America.

To do this, we will be renaming the fandom Captain America (Movies) to Captain America (Chris Evans Movies) and creating a new fandom named Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies). Both will be made subtags of Marvel Cinematic Universe and Captain America - All Media Types.

In summary:

Captain America (Chris Evans Movies) will refer to the 2011, 2014, and 2016 movies featuring Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, and Bucky Barnes. 

Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies) will refer to the 2025 movie Brave New World featuring Sam Wilson and Joaquín Torres. This fandom tag will also refer to any sequel Captain America movies starring Sam Wilson in the title role.

Fans interested in reading about both movie series can include both Marvel Cinematic Universe and Captain America - All Media Types in tag filtering. The current fandom tag for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), which is a subtag of Marvel Cinematic Universe but not Captain America - All Media Types, will also be unaffected by these changes. We’ve included more details of our reasoning below, which better explains why we’re making this change.

Why are you making two separate fandom tags? Can’t everyone just keep using “Captain America (Movies)”?

Despite both having the superhero name “Captain America” and the same continuity, fundamentally the main character has changed between the original trilogy and the new 2025 movie. We also wanted to hopefully make it easier for fans to differentiate between which movies and continuities they’re discussing. Many Sam Wilson fans will likely want to filter for the movie where he’s the central focus; conversely, many Steve Rogers fans will likely want to filter out movies where he doesn’t appear. 

We’re specifically using “Chris Evans” and “Anthony Mackie” in the fandom tags as they’re the most recognizable and consistent aspect of the movies. There’s no consistent set of directors between all Chris Evans Captain America movies, and actor names are much more recognizable than including multiple years in the fandom tags. This style of making fandom tags named after actors is similar to other fandoms on AO3. For example, there are many James Bond movie fandom tags which differentiate via the actors’ names. 

The Marvel Cinematic Universe is also not the only time Captain America has been adapted to the big screen: there’s a 1944 movie starring Dick Purnell, a 1979 movie starring Reb Brown, and a 1990 movie starring Mat Salinger. The current fandom tag Captain America (Movies) is worded in a way that technically encompasses these unrelated movies as well. It doesn’t make sense for these unrelated continuities to share one fandom tag, so we would have changed the existing Captain America (Movies) tag to be more specific regardless of the release of Brave New World. 

Like we mentioned above, fans interested in reading about both MCU movie series at once can filter for both Marvel Cinematic Universe and Captain America - All Media Types.

Why Mackie Movies instead of Brave New World?

The movie title has already changed several times in between promotion and release. It’s also highly likely Marvel will make sequel movies. Formatting the tag as Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies) prevents the disruption of renaming the fandom tag in the future. 

We will be creating an Additional Tag for Captain America: Brave New World, similar to how there are Additional Tags for Movie: Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Movie: Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021). We hope the Additional Tag will help fans filter for specific movies within the broader series of movies.

Why does Brave New World get a separate fandom tag while First Avenger, Winter Soldier, and Civil War would still share? 

Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and Captain America: Civil War all encompass the trilogy centering around Steve Rogers. While Captain America: Brave New World is also set in the same continuity, the main character and actor has changed, and the role of Sam Wilson has changed from being a supporting character to the main focus.

It’s likely that Marvel will release sequel movies to Brave New World, which will not receive separate fandom tags and would instead also be covered by the new Captain America (Anthony Mackie Movies) tag. We hope that separating the fandom tags now will prevent the messiness of renaming tags again in the future, and also allow fans to filter for works that focus on the specific Captain America they are looking for. 

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

[piastrisun]

the second account.

pairings: franco colapinto + singer female reader.

summary: after franco accidentally exposes his secret twitter account, fans accuse him of being delusional about his supposed relationship with you.

faceclaim: malina weissman.⠀warning: none.

request: could you make a franco and singer!reader where he "shows off" his girlfriend on his secret twitter acc but her fans don't believe him so she decides to surprise them by finally making a music video of "bed chem" casting him?

notes: messy dates, as usual. a brief use of gracie abrams for the music video part. and i know franco would put everything in spanish but it had to be in english for u guys. thank you so much for the request, i had a lot of fun making it. :)

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

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translations: “every time she sings i forget how to breath, do you guys think it’s a medical condition” “my pretty princess” “check out her eyes, dude” “good morning to my girlfriend and my girlfriend only” “i’m head over heels for her what do i do” “no one sings like she does, man”

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

francolapinto added to their story.

yourusername and others liked your story.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

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liked by username, username1 and others

yndaily day 1 of using @/francolapinto’s tweets as captions: “imagine waking up and the first thing you see is yn’s face. a dream for you, a reality for me”

tagged yourusername

view all comments

username NOOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY PLS KEEP THIS GOING

username1 if i looked like this, i’d just walk around expecting people to fall in love with me

username2 franco is gonna see this and panic

username3 petition for this to become a daily series until he acknowledges it

username4 it’s crazy how all his tweets work as captions bc he’s LITERALLY a yn fanpage

username5 okay but why is she actually the most beautiful person alive

yourusername i fully support this, keep going

username6 she’s so chronically online IM CRYING

username7 SHES INSANE LMAOOOO

username8 @/francolapinto i get you man

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by username9, username8 and others

43updates @yndaily has inspired us to start talking about franco the way he tweets about yn, wish us luck

tagged francolapinto

view all comments

43updates guys what if i’m actually yn and i’m doing this to bother him

username9 i’ve never seen you and yn on the same room

43updates 👀

43updates joke it can’t be me, i’m clearly unemployed… like SOMEONE I KNOW

username8 PLEASE let’s make him experience the secret account treatment

username7 he has created monsters i fear

francolapinto i suddenly understand how this might have looked from the outside, PARAAÁ

francolapinto but i mean, if you’re gonna do it, go all in. but NO ONE, can talk about me the way i talk about her

username6 LMAO, yeah okay, ‘her’, you mean the girl you run a fan account for?

username5 are u confirming or denying this i’m confused

username4 girl we need receipts, you look delusional

username3 we’ve been through this already, no one believes you 😭😭

username2 franco finally getting a taste of his own medicine

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by francolapinto, username and others

yourusername bed chem video drops tomorrow!! 🌟 i couldn’t be more excited for you all to see it. it’s one of my favorite projects yet, and i had the best co-star.

also, since you guys are basically detectives. yes, this is my boyfriend. yes, he’s been running an account to talk about me this whole time. and no, i did not ask him to do that. but i was aware of it and i love him.

tagged francolapinto

view all comments

yourusername p.s. he’s been mentally preparing for this moment since the second account incident. be nice to him!!!!

francolapinto please!! i’ve suffered enough

username NO WAY i need a moment

username2 SHE JUST SAID IT LIKE IT WAS NOTHING HELLO??? 😭

username3 “yes, this is my boyfriend” GIRL I HAVE BEEN HAVING A MELTDOWN FOR WEEKS

yoursister you two are perfect together!! 🥹

francolapinto but seriously, every day with you is my favorite. you already know that, but saying it here too just in case, te amo 🤍 ♥︎ liked by author

yourusername i’ll put you in my pocket starting now, te amo más <3

username3 forget it when i said this was one sided…

oliviarodrigo need all the behind-the-scenes footage!!

francolapinto also hi. yes boyfriend here, happy to be included!! ♥︎ liked by author

francolapinto and for the record, my account was NOT a fan account. it was a highly curated appreciation page. there’s a difference

username4 five comments from him, he’s so obsessed 😭😭

username4 the way we all thought he was a lovesick fan and turns out he was just a boyfriend with too much free time

francolapinto i’m trying to not take any offence by this

username5 this is the funniest celebrity hard launch ever

alex_albon wow. shocking. so unexpected. truly a plot twist.

yourusername ❓

username6 she’s so funny for that caption 😭😭

username7 he was running a whole stan account for his own girlfriend and she just let him

username8 his twitter account was a love letter, i’m gonna be sick

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[kiyzukiy]

Inevitable fate

Sypnosis: A story as old as time. A girl loving a boy and the boy loving another girl. Nothing to add or show but how you hoped this would be different.

Tags: any lads man x reader, any lads man x MC, reader is not mc, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta read

Author's note: Heya~ I'm fairly new to this and this is also my first post I've done this way. If I'm missing any tags please tell me. Otherwise I hope you enjoy <3

Have you waited to long? 

Some would say yes, could they witness your…rather disgraceful moment right now. There you stood. Out in the dark. Flowers in one hand. In the other his favorite snack and a handwritten note with all your feelings on it. You had hoped to surprise him. His surprise was bigger.

It was almost comically, really. A scene out of a movie. Life imitating art.

Unfortunate for you, this was no such moment. No one would spring out of the corner of the building and scream “prank!” and shove a camera in your face to record it for eternity. Upload it to some social media and get clicks for it or let it become a happy, albeit with embarrassment toned memory. 

You had the strong feeling, the longer you stood there, this was no such scene but reality. 

In silence you stood and watched them. A bit creepy, you would think to yourself if your brain would work right now on the right wavelengths.

It was like sick pleasure. 

Like watching a car wreck. 

Like a nature phenomenon that could kill you, and yet your eyes couldn't move away. 

The sweet scratch on a point you couldn't quite reach. So why did it slowly start to hurt? Did it start to bleed? Should you have left it alone?

Your body was rigid. So even if you wanted to, you couldn't move away. Leave. Like any other person would do. No. You were very focused on the moment that was going on right in front of you. Every sense that you had laser pointed, marked and sharp to the two people in front of you. 

Your friends warned you, didn't they? If you could remember, you would chastise yourself right now. Numerous excuses running around in your head that you gave them. He wasn't like that. It's more than that. He shows genuine interest. He is so sweet. He gave me flowers last week. There has to be something. 

What did your friends say? You couldn't remember. Your mind a jumbling mess. Numbing every thought. Thoughts jumping from one point to the other. Was it a lie? 

But then again what was the lie? You, or him? 

Look away. 

Now he was grasping her waist. Laughter rang in your ears. Was that her? Was that her laughing? With him? And oh how he laughed. Like spring bloom. Like butterflies kissing your cheeks. How the morning sun gently wakes you up with the promise of a new day. Like life. 

He never laughed that way with you. You wonder why. Was she different? More straightforward? More funny? More assertive? More…her? Who was she anyway? You didn't recognize her. No pictures of her in his home, nor on his phone. No story told with this appearance depicted. You could only guess and that guess didn't fill your cold veins with joy. A feeling of doom pooling in your stomach. 

They both seem to know eachother. Awfully comfortable with another too. Laughing, giggling and holding hands together. 

Look away. 

They were moving and simultaneously, you as well. Were you tailing them now? Oh you sick fuck, okay or was this just another thing of watching a car wreck burn. To prolong the moment? Fascinated and in awe that something like that truly happened. Normally you see this only on TV, on the news or just on social media. As if this would be daily life.

They haven't notice you yet so what’s the harm? Maybe this was the way you wanted to go first. You weren't failing them if you just so happen to walk the same way. It's not like they would notice you anyway. It's not like he would notice. To engrossed in the woman beside him that he was still talking with about who knows what. 

Jealousy reared it's ugly head in your heart. He was not like this with you. Not smiling like that, not keeping the conversation going like that. Genuine interest. No. You mistook it as such. Now you saw what his interest looks like. Engagement, excitement and wanting to listen.

A funny thought entered your head, if and when they spot you, you can just go over and do idle chit-chat like “oh hey. I'm just his friend that he was supposed to meet and yes, yes his dick is impressive. I know first hand. What is your experience with that?” 

Yeah. Right. That's what you are going to do. Let’s be real here, you could talk yourself into it but never following through with it because how could you? 

This is what your friends warned you about. 

Look away. 

What were you doing? Exactly? What was your plan? Idly following them to gather more evidence? For what? It's not like you need the evidence for anything as you were nothing to him anyway. 

You had no valid reason to be angry right now. No one said it should be exclusive. Why should you? You were. Just. Friends. Right? Your own words, when you saw his hesitation at your question what you both were. Friends with benefits if someone wants to be specific. 

So why should you take pictures of this moment? You couldn't shove it in his face and demand answers. You couldn't be angry the way you wanted to be. Oh, how you wanted to be angry right now. Raging and screaming. Throwing things at him and watch how he struggled to get a good excuse in. 

But you were only a friend or maybe something else entirely.

Maybe a cheap fuck. Maybe a good distraction. Maybe a stepping stone. Maybe the one to test things out on. Maybe…nothing more than to get the one who got away. 

Was that her? The one he always told you has long since slipped away? The one who assumably forgot about him and moved on? Is that her? With her long, ebony brown hair and expressive eyes? With her fit physique. Perfect nails, even better outfit. Though you wouldn't be surprised if you could dress her up the way you wanted to and she still would look stunning. With that step in her walk like she was excited to meet someone she hasn't seen in a while. Wild hands as she told a story and he listened. Oh? He listened. One more thing you could tick off of your list that he wouldn't do with you. Not in this way. No, not…in this way.

You couldn't deny it. She was beautiful. The longer you looked, watched, observed this was a fact. Well, in your mind you always could give her a nasty personality. Judge her only on her appearance. Could tell yourself that she got around in life because of her looks and not what she accomplished on her own. 

Even though that wouldn't help much. Even though that wouldn't be you. That's not you. You are not like that, but right now you wanted to crash out and not be yourself. Be mean, be vengeful, be hateful. And yet? A sad little smile on your face, you admitted to yourself that she was beautiful. Inside and out. You had a feeling that she was and she looked stunning right next to him. Fitting. Not…like you. 

Just one moment. Let yourself be. Even though it wouldn't help. Only you and your bruised ego over the fact that you went and gave your heart to the wrong man. Again. 

Look away.

Almost, right? Just almost. You haven't done it yet. Not completely. That was soothing, wasn't it? You haven't confessed yet. You wanted to. That was the whole plan of your meet up with him today. The whole sense behind you, now following them, getting flowers and his snack because women could woo men too. That was the plan. What a grand plan that was! 

You…had a plan. A cute picknick underneath the night sky. Watching the stars and professing your love and you both would enter a happy, healthy relationship. The end. 

Reality was but a cruel joke or your saving grace. Lucky you didn't do it. At least that's what you will tell yourself when you get home. In the mirror. Alone. Memories of you and him running on loop behind your eyes and you will ask yourself what you lack. But that was a problem for future you, wasn't it?

Look away! 

Pitter patter. You hear it before you feel it. You scoffed. Right, of course. Now this was rather ridiculous and might you add ironic of life. Why yes of course it would really rain right now. As if this wasn't movie worthy to begin with. Now you would be soaked when you get home as well. 

Well, at least you didn't confessed right? This can be another failed dating attempt you can gossip with your friends about. A small hihi haha story while they ramble on about who they dated last and what happend with that encounter. 

It would be funny. If you wouldn't hurt so much right now. Because this could have been perfect. This could have been your moment. He was the man. Kind, attentive, supportive and understanding. Alright, so what? Maybe you started as friends with benefits but you were friends and the sex was even better. Silly banter and an comfortable vibe between you. What else does a relationship need? 

This could have been it.

Please, look away sweetie.

Now he was touching her cheek. She was turning to him. Beneath a lamp post in the park. No body around. You still far away in the dark. Shivering, flowers soaked and still clutching that stupid snack in your hand. Knuckles turning white. Teeth grinding and jaw clenching. Against your better judgement you were angry. And sad. And disappointed. And so god damn hurt. Jesus, why did it hurt so much? You were nothing. Only the memories weren't nothing. They were real. Real interactions that made you fall in love. That made you giggle and laugh and reminiscence about what could be. What could have been. 

You wish you could hold your heart right now. Clench the shirt above your heart. Symbolic to the pain. The heavy weight on your chest that didn't let you breathe freely.

Would it happen now? That what the singers and poets always proclaim about? The deepest pain, the most lingering scar? Is this the moment where you will hear your heart shatter in the rain? 

They don't seem to be bothered by it. While everyone was flittering and running about to get underneath shelter, these two seem disgustingly happy that it was, in fact, raining. Oh to be sickingly in love so that you would gladly take the cold that would follow after such events. Being stone cold out, but the moment was beautiful. For them. At least. A story they could tell. Oh so romantic. Oh so loving, oh so beautiful. Re-enacted out of a book.

You would just be down with a cold and calling in sick because you just. Couldn't. Look. Away. 

Please, why? Look away, starlight. Come on. 

Ah, there it was. The moment. A movie. The scene. The setting. The light. Romance. Young, undisturbed love. A kiss. 

And you. Sticking out like a sore thumb. A watcher. A silent bystander to their rom-com. A witness to their happy end and ever after. 

They don't notice you. But you notice. You notice your heart plumpeting to the depths of the earth, only to burn in front of the events before you. You feel it break. Pain surges through your veins. To how many pieces can a beating heart shatter? Do you dare to count? Would it be the amount of the shared memories? Would it be the many times you wished to be more? How long would it take to put it back together? Would you ever get closure or would you continue on with the things in mind that you saw today? Could you pretend nothing happened and be quiet by his side? Don't you love yourself more than that?

Princess, look away. 

What were you to him for him to be able to do this with no second thought? Does he feel any guilt right now, any thoughts about you? Does he see you behind his eyes when they close in this intimate moment? 

It didn't seem this way. It more so felt like a punch to the gut to witness just how little you meant to him. Apparently. Evidently. Written and signed by him truly. 

Cutie…look away. 

And you do. With a shaking breath, you look away. One slugging step at the time, you turn away. Tears falling down your face as you look up to the sky and wonder: 

Have you waited too long?

[rationalnerd62]

Seeing some of the tags I got on the CR timeline post, I think I loved C3 for the exact same reasons some folks disliked it or struggled with it.

I liked the overarching arc. Don't get me wrong, mini-arcs like with VM and M9 are perfectly fine, but there's something narratively satisfying to me about BH following this consistent thread all along the campaign. This group started with a few questions (Who attacked Keyleth? Why? What is the meaning of those dreams? Where are Fearne's parents?) and uncovered a whole conspiracy that then revealed itself to the entire world. It reminds me of reading those Fantasy series where the characters hear about the upcoming battle in book 1 and finally get to it in book 14. I can't wait to rewatch and see the foreshadowing and hints that brought this group to this point.

I liked the constant discussions about the Gods. Listen, as a gay person raised in a Catholic family, boy I've had my dealings and issues with religion. But I find it nice to be able to put our own world aside and watch this fantasy world ask questions that would be very controversial in ours. What we know of the Gods of Exandria has fundamentally changed from the first episode of C3 to the last. We went through both ExU Calamity and Downfall during that time. Those Gods have changed from being so removed and above mortals, mystical entities incomprehensible to anyone who dared trying, to beings with a past before Exandria, a family they're willing to protect at all costs no matter how hurtful their siblings are to the mortals, aliens with flaws and faults and failings, full of nuances and grayness in a world that put half of them in a box of "Good" and the other half in a box of "Evil". And as those Gods have been humanised in front of our eyes, it brought the question of whether their power over mortals is still justified and relevant. And now Exandria is about to change, and I find it exciting. IMO, it gives even more of a reason to keep exploring Exandria in the future of Critical Role than if the status quo was maintained. It's hard to do something new in a world that doesn't evolve with the story.

And while I understand people would have loved more time with Bell's Hells (I would have loved that too!), I also kinda loved how rushed and short in time they've been feeling since they've heard of the solstice. They've had a ticking clock ringing in their ears for a while now. People make different decisions when they don't think they have the time to get some sleep on it. Would have Ashton tried to absorb the shard if the group didn't have to leave for Ruidus the exact next day? Would have Orym taken a sword that maybe shouldn't be his if they didn't have to leave for Aeor the next day? Would have Imogen absorbed Predathos if watching Downfall hadn't made them realise that the Gods will break the Divine Gate to keep the secret of Predathos hidden?

IMO, we still got plenty of very interesting character moments despite the limited amount of time those characters spent together. They've been through some shit together, and the friendships they made through the shared trauma will stick with them for years. Because yes, they are friends (except for Braius, that one is on a tightrope lol). But they've proven over and over again what they're willing to do for their tight crew of broken people.

Boy I am so very fond of them. Saying goodbye will be hard 🥹.

[zepskies]

hiiii, i hope your friday is going well lovely 💞💞 :) how has your week been?💕

i’m currently stuck at work and it’s beeeeeen quite the day already, but you always cheer me up so i have a random question :p

i’m thinking about the scene when dean tried cafe con leche in the midnight espresso-verse (also i’m a barista loll🥲), and he was pleasantly surprised, so it has me wondering;

if they were to get something besides plain coffee, what do you think dean/ben/beau/russell would like to drink if they ordered at a coffee shop?

i always love to hear any and all your thoughts 🙂‍↕️🤍

Hello my lovely! 💞💞 I actually am in recovery this week after having a surgical procedure yesterday, so I'm finally getting a chance to catch up on my TBR reading and the shows I've had on my watchlist. 🤪

Ooh introducing Dean to Cuban espresso was the scene that inspired that whole fic of Midnight Espresso, and ultimately turned it into a whole series of Dean x plus-sized Latina fun!! lol

This is such a fun question though!! You as a barista probably know way more about coffee than I do, but here's my take on these guys' orders...

HEADCANON: What Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would order at a coffee shop. ☕

Dean Winchester

Why, an espresso of course! 🤎

Cram that little cup full of sugar, and you've got Dean hooked on a heavy-hitter fix that'll keep him up during long research sessions. (It also gives you the opportunity to distract him from said research, give him a taste of another steamy fix. 😘❤️‍🔥)

Beau Arlen

Ooh I feel like he'd protest at first and claim to solely drink Americanos, but he's a basic latte guy.

Hit him with some caramel or hazelnut, and he's happy. But you could also hook him into being a little adventurous with a pistachio or "brown sugar" latte lol. Like most things, Beau is willing to try almost anything once. 😉

Soldier Boy (Ben)

So he's definitely going to be thrown by all the modern selections of coffee. (i.e. "What the fuck is oatmilk?") And how the hell can you get milk out of cashews and almonds?

All the health crazes, "drip" coffee, and milk alternatives are definitely going over his head, or he's mocking them. ("Save that pussy drink for Hughie." 💀)

But one thing he might go for, other than a black coffee, is a nice cold brew, hold off on too much foam -- can't be getting the milkstache, now can he? But he'll like it even better if you make it "Irish." 💚

Russell Shaw

Last but certainly not least, we have Russell! I don't think he's picky about his coffee, considering he probably drinks a lot of free motel coffee. lol

But! I think he'd appreciate a nice flat white at a proper café. It's more robust than a normal cappuccino and less milk, so he'd argue that he's getting more "bang for his buck." 😂

AN: @wvffles Hope you liked this little headcanon, friend, and that it cheers you up! I LOVE me some coffee, so this question with the guys was really fun to contemplate. 😘☕

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Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse @lamentationsofalonelypotato

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@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[suzdin]

One Day

Tim Rockford x f!sex worker reader

Summary: You’re Detective Rockford’s favorite girl at the local brothel.

Warnings: established relationship, terms of endearment are used a few times (precious, baby, sweetheart), sex work, possibly derogatory term of sex workers used (whore), oral / fingering (f receiving), nipple play, cop!Tim, dom!Tim, soft!Tim, possessive!Tim, sweat kink, soft belly appreciation, spanking, rough sex (consensual), nipping, handcuff play, bondage, some fluff if you squint hard enough, unprotected p in v and a resulting creampie, pining for more, brief mentions of homicide, poverty, and general cop knowledge and jargon

Word Count: 3,600+

Tags: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @berryispunk @natdeandar @morallyinept @chronically-ghosted @daddy-dins-girl @guelyury @heavennumber2

It’s another sticky, muggy night in the city of Houston, Tim’s antiperspirant failing miserably as he tries in vain to dry the large semicircles of sweat under his arms, angling the air conditioning vents toward his pits in the hopes it will do the trick.

He grumbles when it’s ineffective, partially because of his thin patience, knowing he’ll have to get his shirt dry cleaned tomorrow before the stains can set in, and partially because he isn’t sure why he chose a white button up instead of something lighter and cooler. Not that it would help the sweat problem much in this weather, but maybe it would make it less obvious.

Although his salary is much better here than in the sleepy New England town he came from, he would move back in heartbeat if not for you. The heat and big city life were not well suited to a man such as himself.

He navigates the darkened streets in one of the many derelict neighborhoods surrounding downtown, the route as familiar to him as the lines on his hand, his need to see you heightened more than usual due to a recent string of homicides that has him on edge and the whole precinct in a tizzy. He hopes you aren’t occupied already, but he’ll wait if he needs to, like he always does.

He pulls the unmarked cruiser into the driveway of a rundown, two story Victorian just south of the 610 Loop, cutting the engine, sucking in a deep breath as he stares at the faint glow in a few of the ornate windows.

He hastily shoves open the door and climbs out, stuffing his keys and wallet in his pockets, his shoes crunching quietly on the gravel path as he makes his way toward the wraparound porch, decorated in various potted flora, tables, chairs, and even a porch swing.

He loves to imagine sitting out here with you in the mornings, drinking coffee and watching the sun crest over the city skyline.

One day, he tells himself. One day.

He reaches the front door, raising his fist to knock, but it flies open with a rush of cold air before he has a chance, his arm hanging limply in the air as his eyes lock with one of the house madams.

Sylvia, a lovely Latina woman whom he would guesstimate is around his age, beckons him inside, the cool air conditioning striking his face a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat.

“Detective Rockford,” Sylvia purrs. “Good to see you again. It’s been several weeks. I almost forgot what you looked like.”

Tim nods, his brow furrowed, clearly not amused by the teasing cadence in her voice.

The lobby is quiet and mostly empty, two of the girls sitting on a bench near the window and gossiping about something or other as they share a package of cookies, wrapped in thin lace robes that leave nothing to the imagination. They wave and smile at Tim, a familiar face to most of them.

“Been busy,” he replies gruffly, handing Sylvia his wallet to hold as collateral. “Is she available?”

“She is,” Sylvia says, a gentle smirk gracing her ruby lips. “While it’s been busy on your end, it’s been slow for us. She misses you.”

He frowns, diverting his attention to the dusty antique carpet, grinding his jaw.

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Miss her too.”

Sylvia smiles, leaning against the wall as she crosses her arms.

“Would you like a drink?” she asks.

She always asks, and he always declines. “No, thank you,” he replies.

Sylvia hums and purses her lips, cocking her head toward the back of the house.

“She’s in her room. You know where to go.”

—

The smell of incense perfumes the air as Tim draws nearer to your room, the faint glow of lamplight spilling into the corridor from your open doorway.

He reaches your room, his dark slacks already tight as he observes you silently, taking in and appreciating how beautiful you look like this, lost in your thoughts.

You’re lying on your stomach, naked aside from a black lace thong, your feet swinging in the air as you hum a familiar tune, scribbling something in a notebook.

It takes him a moment to realize you have earbuds in, which is why you haven’t acknowledged him yet. He smirks to himself, gently rapping his knuckles against the open door as he murmurs your name.

You yelp, jumping to your knees on the edge of the mattress when you’re caught off guard, having been in your own little world, your eyes wide and wild for a moment before reality sinks in, a breath of relief and joy escaping your lungs.

You rip the earbuds out of your ears, not even bothering to put them in their case as you bounce giddily off the bed, running to greet Tim, practically leaping into his arms.

“Hey, baby,” he croons as he lifts you up, your legs circling his waist, his fingers digging into your backside. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but I’m glad to see you have catlike reflexes in case there ever is a real threat,” he teases, hearing the smile in his voice, even though you can’t currently see his face because you’re too busy planting kisses along his neck and jaw.

You giggle-snort and you inhale his scent, a much needed comfort. He kicks the door closed and embraces you tightly, walking you backwards in his arms and plopping you onto the bed, climbing over you, caging you against the mattress with long, heavy limbs.

“What were you listening to, precious?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his throat as he begins kissing and worshipping your bare breasts, his tongue deftly circling each nipple, alternating between the two.

“Smashing Pumpkins,” you reply, whimpering as he takes a stiff peak into his mouth, pulling it gently between his teeth before popping off with a wet smack of his lips.

“Mm,” he hums, grinding his erection into you. “Thought that tune sounded familiar.”

He wraps you in his arms, his weight heavy and comforting on top of you, his eyes boring into yours.

“I missed you,” you say, your voice hardly above a whisper.

“Missed you too, precious,” he rumbles, nuzzling your neck, mustache tickling your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, your breath catching when he grinds against you again, your arousal already soaking clear through the lace.

You press your nose to the perspiration darkening his shirt, inhaling deeply, the smell both a comfort and an aphrodisiac, making you tingle in all the right places.

“You smell so good,” you mumble against his shoulder.

“I’m sweating like a goddamn whore in church. I’m not suited to this Texas weather,” he grunts in disagreement.

“Hey, hey, hey, mind your tongue. You may not believe this, but you’re actually talking to a whore right now,” you tease with a grin.

“And besides,” you add, poking him in the ribs, “I’m rather fond of your sweat.”

He groans in mock annoyance with a low chuckle, shaking his head as he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

“What would you like tonight, Detective?” you purr, both legs hooping around his waist.

“Mmm,” he grunts, pressing his hips against yours, rolling them forward at an agonizingly slow pace. “I have an idea…” he says. “But only if you’re up for it.”

“With you, I’m up for anything.”

One corner of his mustache curls into a wry smirk, his eyes flashing with lust.

“Well then,” he says, sitting up to shrug his leather harness off, his hands moving to unbutton his shirt. “Take your panties off, sweetheart.”

You don’t waste a single second, shimmying them down your legs, dangling the black lace from your foot, extending it toward him.

He takes the scant fabric from you, bringing it to his nostrils and inhaling deeply, his pupils dilating with lust.

“You smell so fucking pretty,” he growls, putting them to the side with his harness. “Spread your legs for me.”

Your legs part, your folds blooming open for his hungry gaze, glistening with slick.

“So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he whispers as he climbs onto the bed, pushing your legs further apart, positioning his broad shoulders in between.

You giggle, your skin warming as you look down at him, his lips hovering inches from your core.

“I thought you wanted to try something different this time,” you say with a playful grin.

“Mm,” he rumbles low in his chest, planting kisses along the soft inner flesh of your thighs. “I do. But I want to make you come on my tongue first,” he explains, his dark brown eyes meeting yours over the ridge of your mound.

Your hips flex involuntarily closer to his mouth, a small whimper escaping. He’s one of very few clients who actually cares about your pleasure, and the only one who sees you as a person rather than a toy for fast and easy gratification.

With a devious grin, his face dips between your legs, his fingers spreading your folds as he drags the flat of his tongue agonizingly slow up your seam, entrance to clit.

He pauses at the pert bud, circling it slowly before lifting your hips, slinging your legs over his shoulders to grant him better passage to your sopping wet heat.

With a soft groan, his tongue plunges into your core, a deep hum in the back of his throat as he tastes your essence.

“Always so fucking sweet for me,” he murmurs against your flesh, lavishing a few more slow, steady swipes up your seam, making your hips twitch.

He brings one arm up to bar across your pelvis, holding you in place as his attention shifts to your clit, his lips suctioning around the sensitive bud while he sinks two fingers with the opposite hand into your silken tunnel, slowly pumping them in and out.

You mewl as he curls them slightly in a ‘come hither’ motion, brushing against the sensitive patch of nerves, his lips steadily sucking and tongue swirling your engorged clit.

As the onslaught continues, your fingers tangle in his dark, graying curls, your hips sputtering with the exertion of trying to move despite being pinned down, a satisfied hum vibrating against your core as he keeps you from wriggling beneath him.

“Tim—“ you whine as he presses your body more firmly into the mattress, his fingers gradually speeding up. He’s been fine tuned to your body for a while, and he can feel you how close you are.

“Fuck… Tim…” you whine again, your heels digging into his back as you come hard and fast, your walls fluttering and tightening around his fingers.

He groans against your sex as you come, catching every last drop of you on his tongue, the vibrations only intensifying your release as he works you through it. His eyes lift to see you, watching you fall apart for him.

He pulls away when he’s satisfied that you’re completely done, his mustache and chin glistening with evidence of your pleasure, a thin, shiny string of come still connecting you to his fingertips briefly.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, placing reverent kisses along your inner thighs, his dick straining painfully hard against his zipper.

“What now, Detective?” you ask softly, mussing his curly strands with your fingers.

He grins up at you, dark brown eyes somehow becoming impossibly darker as he crawls off the edge of the bed and hovers above you, liberating his upper half of the sweat-stained undershirt he wears beneath the button up.

You love to marvel at his thick, toned biceps, but even more than that, you love the slight, soft paunch of his lower belly, a swathe of dark curls disappearing below the waistband of his boxer-briefs as he kicks the slacks aside.

“Stop staring at my belly,” he scolds with a smirk, his underwear soon joining the discarded slacks, heavy, uncut cock rigid and weeping for you as he slowly begins to pump himself.

“I like your belly,” you tell him with an affectionate pout, swiping two of your fingers along your seam as your gaze lingers on his pistoning fist.

“First my sweat, now my belly. Guess I should cut back on all those donuts, huh?” he remarks playfully in a self-deprecating tone, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You giggle, propping yourself up on your elbows as you peer up at him.

“Don’t. Makes a good pillow,” you say with a soft smile, biting your lower lip, causing his cock to twitch in his hand.

“Stand up,” he tells you lowly in a sudden commanding tone that makes your walls clench, no hesitation whatsoever as you immediately comply.

“Yes sir,” you hum, eliciting a low growl from him.

“Turn around. Hands on your head,” he commands now, turning on his cop voice as he steps behind you. You attempt to turn your head to watch him over your shoulder, only to have him shove it forward forcefully.

“Eyes front,” he growls. “And hands on your head like I told you.”

You don’t dare dawdle a second time, gasping softly as you bring your hands to the back of your head, interlocking your fingers.

You hear a metallic jingle at your six and it doesn’t take you long to realize what’s happening.

You and Tim have used cuffs before, sure. The pink fuzzy ones that you keep in your top drawer, the ones he often referred to as a joke when they didn’t tighten to his liking and popped open far too easily. But these? You can already tell these are the real deal.

You can’t help but wonder where he had them hidden, but perhaps you weren’t meant to know.

He grabs each wrist one at a time, pulling one arm behind your back and then the other, placing each cuff around your wrist and tightening them until the cool steel is biting into your flesh, a far cry from the novelty ones you’ve used before.

You had established safe words long ago, and he had your list of do’s and don’t’s committed to memory, but he still checks in with you the second they’re tightened, leaning forward to find your gaze, silently confirming with your eyes that you’re okay.

One corner of his upper lip curves slightly into an almost imperceptible smirk when you meet his visage with a warm smile.

“I said eyes front,” he chides, shoving your head forward again, making your back arch with a low whimper.

“We’re bringing you down to the station for questioning,” he states, your name a soft purr on his tongue as he begins Mirandizing you, the speech so deeply ingrained in his memory he could recite it word for word in his sleep.

You play into the fantasy, beginning to fight against the brute hold he has, wrists twisting in the cuffs.

“I’m innocent, Officer Rockford, I swear! I had to kill Gene! He had it coming!” you say, adding the extra dramatics simply because you can.

You have no idea who Gene is, a name you pulled entirely out of thin air, but it seems to stir Tim up, which is exactly what you wanted it to do. He hated even hearing other men’s names on your lips, real or fictional alike.

He places the heel of his palm between your shoulder blades and forces you face down, a moan escaping your lungs as you continue to resist, the loud ringing of skin harshly meeting skin echoing in the small room as he abruptly smacks your ass hard in retaliation.

“‘Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law’,” he reiterates, hearing the blade of agitation in his voice, leaning over you so the thick head of his cock grinds painfully against the cheek he just slapped. “Don’t think this isn’t going on your record, sweetheart.”

You tremor, your skin heating. ‘Precious’ is what he called you during moments of affection and, dare you say, love?, but ‘sweetheart’… well, that was a term of endearment reserved only for times like these, and it never failed to turn you on more.

You moan, writhing more fervently in his grip, the blunt head of his cock pushing even harder against the soft flesh of your smarting backside.

“My lawyer will be hearing about this! Police brutality! Abuse of power!” you cry out, playing it up more than necessary, but it’s apparent he likes it.

“Fuck your lawyer,” he snarls, smacking the same cheek a second time, making you yelp. “We have sufficient evidence to bring you in, and now a confession. You’re going away for a long time, sweetheart.”

Before you can counter, he leans downs, broad chest pinning you beneath him, his plush lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Maybe we can work something out. Off the books,” he purrs, pulling your earlobe between his teeth and tugging. “We could get you off on an insanity or self defense plea.”

Your frantic motions still, the only movement the slow ascent and descent of your rib cage.

“How do we do that, Officer Rockford?” you ask in the most pathetic, submissive tone you can muster. He smirks above you, but you don’t see it.

“By getting me off,” he croons, teasing your slick folds with his cock, your tunnel instinctively tightening.

Without ample warning, he lines himself up and plunges himself deep inside of you, his pelvis meeting yours in a single, brutal thrust, making you keen as your fingers and toes curl in tandem.

You like it rough, a fact he’s well aware of.

“That’s my girl. You take my cock so well,” he praises, trying not to dwell too much on the idea that it’s literally your job to take cock well, the possessiveness he tries to hide igniting within him.

The ridge of his nose creases, his teeth bared through a hiss as he slowly begins fucking in and out of you, wide fingers digging a bruising grip into your hips.

“You are mine, aren’t you? Only mine,” he grunts, pulling almost all the way out only to slam back in again.

“Yes, Tim,” you whine, every harsh slam of his hips against yours making you keen and gasp. “Only yours.”

“Repeat it,” he commands, yanking back on your bound wrists so hard that you’re partially suspended above the mattress, making you cry out in a way that gives him pause until you ensure him visually that you’re still okay.

“I’m yours, Tim. Only yours,” you repeat through heady breaths, your lower lip dangling in ecstasy as the speed and intensity of his thrusts gradually increases.

It wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last time clients would ask you to profess the same words to them, with varying iterations, but Tim was the only one you ever meant it with. Only for him. Only his.

“That’s my good girl,” Tim hums reverently, his face tensing and contorting above you, and although you’re faced away from him, you know by his rhythm and vocal changes that he’s getting close.

“Gonna… paint those pretty walls with my cum,” he pants, one hand still clutching your wrists, the other reaching around to slowly circle your clit.

“Come on my cock, precious,” he urges, hissing as he attempts to maintain control. “Come for me.”

It only takes a few more well placed strokes between his cock and his fingers, working you to a second, more intense orgasm than the first, his name a prayer flowing from your tongue as your tunnel practically strangles his thick length, spurring his own intense release mere moments later.

Under normal circumstances, you required every client to wear protection, no exceptions. You never let your clients come in you — either in your womb or mouth — only ever a condom or on your skin, and anyone who attempted otherwise would be summarily barred from future services.

But Tim, like everything else involving him, was the one and only exception, the hot jets of spend shooting against your g-spot heightening your orgasm as you milk his balls of every last drop.

With a final, breathy groan and shiver, Tim collapses with a sigh on top of you.

—

You both lie naked on your bed, halfway on top of his chest with your arms and legs wrapped around as his warm, heavy hands massage your bruised wrists in slow, tender circles.

You’re wide awake but neither of you is speaking, basking in each other’s post-coital afterglow, finding peace in simply listening to the other’s breaths and heartbeats in the stifling silence of the room.

He knows you won’t leave the brothel, not anytime soon, too worried about assisting the madams in protecting the younger, more naive and impressionable girls from succumbing to harm at the hands of clients or hostile outsiders while still being able to pay off your debts, fiscally or otherwise.

Still, it doesn’t prevent him from dreaming of a life with you. Waking up next to you every morning or falling asleep inside you every night, curled up in his arms. Give you a life you won’t allow yourself to have, at least not right now.

He continues circling your soft wrists with his thumbs, his brow knitting with concern.

“I was too rough this time, wasn’t I?” he asks you quietly, the remorse in his tone palpable. The concern he has for your wellbeing makes your heart clench and your throat constrict.

“No,” you answer with a soft giggle. “It was perfect.”

He mirrors your giggle with a deep, throaty chuckle, pulling you all the way on top of him, arms encasing you as he buries his face against your neck.

One day, he thinks to himself. One day.

[velvetwyrme]

Forgive me i do not know much about jazzprowl,,, who are pterrorgal20 and bugboi 😔😔😔

(Is pterrorgal Prowl’s pterodactyl Green?? But then who is bugboi…. I am not sure 😔)

yes!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ur spot on for both 🥹!!! ahrdjfkkengkebgkebfk,,

Green (Prowls pterodactyl/pet flyt) -> pterrorgal20 (Felicity Greene)

Bob (Sunstreakers insecticon) -> bugboi (Bob)

completely useless detail but i did reference/colourdrop this panel specifically LMAO

if u look closely theres also. one more person i hinted at, whos name i was even less subtle with but the placement i WAS subtle with so ill just say outright:

Buster (Thundercracker's dog) is also there EHTJFHRKFJ and she has a silly pic of TC as her pfp LMAO,,

also ur so so valid agrjflfbdkdbfkf,,, im being incredibly biased and self indulgent so it is. a particular niche for sure LMAO. im glad you're enjoying it regardless though :]c!!!

[solarockk]

can we know more about the bitter water au pls

im gonna rewrite here some lore dump from twt fjdhgh that i forgot to post here

the au does contain some horror and psycological elements! (mostly eldritch horror, grief/mourning and amnesia) also pls don't tag Gem and Pearl under this au, even if it doesn't break boundaries I'd prefer if it stayed in fandom spaces only. (I'm not sure how it works here on tumblr so please let me know if the shinyduo tag is fine to use or not, for the characters I'm gonna tag them as bw!NameOfCharacters mostly for organization)

now, for actual lore!

as the original post impliy the main story of the au centers around Shinyduo, sailing, and the horror of what lies beneath the waves

Gem currently works as a Fisherwoman at the minor port of Hermitopia, She owns a small fishing boat that Bdubs and Cleo fixed up for Her (Etho helped too but don't tell anyone that) and she makes just enough money from selling what she memages to reel in from the ocean to enjoy her simple frugal life in the small port.

her daily life changes drastically when one day out at sea she finds and unconcious Pearl floating among the waves, Gem fishes her out of the water in an hurry and is a little weirded out that Pearl (once awake) is completelly fine after spending gods knows how long lost at sea. Well, except the fact that she seems to not remember anything about her life except Gem's own name. (drawn here! "first meeting")

that is the basic premise, a silly Amnesiac trying to regain her memories and a gruff fisherwoman who feels resposible after fishing her out of the waves. but.. there are things that.. don't match in both their narratives? Why was Pearl in the ocean? why did she somehow remember Gem if they had never met before? ..did they never meet before? did they always used to look like that?

maybe in another life,, another time,,

[macabr3-barbi3]

A Practical Demonstration

Chapter 4: Reciprocation

here we go again lol

for anyone who doesn't know, my debut into the Hazbin fandom was a fic about Alastor and a reader using a sex toy. It was meant to be a oneshot- they never really stay that way though, and it ended up at 3 chapters before I decided it was done. It's coming up on a year since I posted that first story (that I thought was long finished at this point), and I finally finished the bonus chapter that I've had planned forever. I hope you enjoy! ❤️🌹

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert; established relationship

When you open the box that’s been delivered to the hotel for you, your first thought is that the marketing team at VoxTek doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing- the letter that they sent along with it is nice, if a little embarrassing, thanking you for being a devout purchaser of items from the sex toy lines and explaining that high dollar customers have all been sent a free product to try out as a thank you for their loyalty. Which is dandy in theory, if they had sent you something that you could actually use.

What the fuck were you supposed to do with a fleshlight? 

They obviously didn’t do any sort of research into what products you were buying, or how long it had been since you had gotten one. It had been months since you had used any of your VoxTek purchases, since you and Alastor had become an item, and you didn’t really have much need for them anymore; let alone something like this that was meant for someone with different parts than what you were working with.

You’ve just resolved to give it to Angel, claiming an incorrect delivery, when the hum of static behind you alerts you to Alastor’s presence. “Good evening, my dear,” he greets, an eyebrow quirking up when you shove the toy back into its box before he can get a good look at it. “What could possibly be holding your attention so well that you didn’t see fit to return to the bedroom after returning home after your dinner with Velvette?”

You hold the box behind your back. “Just a delivery- something for Angel,” you tell him. “I was going to take it up to him, and- hey!”

His shadow snatches the box from your hands, ducking between your legs to present it to his master. “Interesting! Do you frequently open other people’s mail? That is a crime, you know,” he teases. He opens the flaps of the box- and promptly closes them when he sees the toy. “I see! Well, allow me to give this back to you to return to our effeminate friend- ah, but what’s this? Addressed to you…” His eyes skim the letter, his grin growing with alarming speed along with the blush that paints your face. “Why didn’t you just say so, dear? I know all about your little collection- you have no need to hide such a thing from me.”

“I know!” You snatch the box back from him, cheeks flaming. “I know that, obviously. This one is just- not for me. I don’t think they checked the, uh, preferences of who they were sending this to. It’s- fuck, can we not discuss this in the lobby?” You plead, hearing voices coming around the corner towards the door, and Alastor hums softly before enveloping you both in shadow and depositing the two of you into his bedroom. “It’s not something I can use, it’s more of a- male-parts oriented toy,” you tell him once you’re alone, and he reaches into the box again and removes the toy, turning it over in his hands and slipping his thumb into the opening, pushing softly at the soft silicone as the digit is enveloped.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I see- I hardly see what the fuss was, darling, you could have simply told me the misunderstanding. We shall simply ship it back; if they’re so determined to give you a free product perhaps they can try again. I suppose I do understand the appeal of this, though,” he adds thoughtfully, continuing to move his finger inside the thing before he pulls it back out. “Soft material, sufficiently tight for when one doesn’t have a partner to indulge with. Certainly not for your use, but-“

“Do you want to try it?” The words blurt from your mouth before you can really think about them, something about the way Alastor was casually fingering the sex toy doing something pleasant to your brain. You immediately want to swallow the words back down with how quickly his gaze swings to you, your cheeks flaming when he quirks an eyebrow at you. “Fuck, I mean- sorry, that was a stupid question. I didn’t-”

His fingers come up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing along your cheekbone. “I don’t understand how you are still so shy when it comes to your desires,” he says quietly. “Everything that we’ve done, and yet you still hesitate to ask something of me. Tell me, my dear- would you like to see me use the thing?” Not trusting your words, you nod, and he chuckles under his breath. “Then there we are; I shall try it. You’ve indulged me plenty of times, I don’t mind a bit of reciprocation for your sake.”

He leads you over to the bed, stripping himself down before laying back against the pillows and giving you a moment to situate yourself comfortably on the edge of the mattress. It’s a view you could get used to- his chest bare and fluffy with soft fur, cut across diagonally from the battle with Heaven so long ago and deeply scarred. Sometimes when you were intimate with each other he would allow you to inspect it, run your fingers down the soft groove of sensitive skin that rested there. You let your eyes wander further, along the lean lines of his arms, the apex of his thighs where his erection grows under the scrutiny, the firm muscles of his legs leading down to his hooves. Alastor was beautiful- 

“Ah.” When you look back to his face, his skin is flushed, a pink tint that spreads across his cheeks and down his exposed collarbones. “I understand your embarrassment now the first time you were in this position for a ‘demonstration.’ To be laid bare beneath the eyes of the one you want and show them something so intimate feels… flattering. And unnerving.” He glances at you sideways. “I hope you find it to your liking.”

“No complaints over here,” you breathe as he snaps his fingers and produces a small bottle of lube, drizzling it generously over the opening of the sex toy. He was really going to do it, just for you, and the thought hits you like a cloud of aphrodisiacal smoke; that he was laying himself out like this, prone and vulnerable, because you wanted to see it.

You almost miss his sharp intake of breath when he lines up and pushes into the opening of the fleshlight, sinking halfway into the slick grip of the silicone before he pulls back out with a shudder that courses through his whole body. He presses in again, this time with a slew of muttered curse words as he sinks to the hilt and holds it there for a moment, his head dropping back against the pillows. The angle makes it all too apparent when he swallows, his free hand clenching to a fist in the sheets.

“Does it- does it feel good?” You ask him, perhaps somewhat stupidly, but the way he moans at the sound of your voice makes it worth it. You think about the way that he had asked you questions the first time you were in his position, how embarrassed you had been to have him witness such a thing, how turned on you were for the same reason. A blessing and a curse to have someone watching you so closely and commenting on it, expecting an answer- which he hasn’t given you yet. “Alastor?” You run your hand up his calf, not missing the way his hips buck up into the toy with a wet noise.

It seems once he’s started that he can’t stop; fabric tears as he digs his claws in, his pelvis rocking between his hand and the bed as he fucks into it with a steady rhythm. “Tight,” he says, his voice strained and shooting heat into your blood. “I didn’t think- fuck, it’s good.” With the curse on his lips you clench your thighs together, twisting on the bed to properly face him. He watches you move and settle, his expression hungry and desperate as he continues to buck up into the toy. “I would much prefer you, though,” he purrs after a moment, releasing the sheets to place a hand on your thigh, thumb brushing softly on the delicate skin there.

You take his hand and bring it to your lips to press a soft kiss there. At the contact he groans and tries to reach for your neck to pull you closer so he can steal your lips in a kiss- you resist, pulling away from him, breaking the contact between the two of you. “Now you know the struggle of an inadequate replacement for what you really want,” you say, delighting in the look of anguish that takes over his features at being denied you. “Come on now, I thought you were giving me a demonstration.”

“Wretched, wonderful woman,” he murmurs, but he fists his fingers back in the sheet rather than reaching for you again. “Would you like to hear the ways this blasted thing is inferior to you? It feels good,” he moans, slowing his pace to drag his cock in and out of the object, the lube glistening in the low light that he’s provided. “But you, my love, feel divine. You gasp my name and whine and clench down on me so sweetly- accomplishments this cheap replica could never hope to achieve.” His red locks spill across the pillow as he works himself, sweat dampening his bangs from the effort as he locks eyes with you. “Why would I keep one of these when I could have the real thing whenever I desire?”

Ever observant, he notices the way your thighs tremble sitting beside him, and he relinquishes his fistful of the sheets to turn his hand palm up, like he’s offering you a hand to help you out of a car. “Why don’t you allow me to assist you?” He purrs, dropping a few of his fingers so that only the pointer and middle remain extended- he crooks them in a familiar ‘come here’ motion that makes your cheeks flame as you realize what he was offering. 

You consider telling him no- that he had gone through your demonstrations without any relief, and you could do the same. But he looked like he needed it, some sort of connection to your pleasure to ground him in the moment that you determined from the crease of his eyebrow and the tremble of his fingers where he offered them to you. You stand from the bed, noticing the way that Alastor ceases his movement of the toy along his length until you start to pull your panties out from under your skirt. Then there’s a groan ripping free of his throat, static that makes the hairs on your arm stand at attention as you position yourself above his hand.

The sink onto his fingers is embarrassingly easy, the force of your arousal offering a near frictionless slide until the pads of his fingers are pressed against that perfect spot inside of you. His name escapes you in a soft whimper as he begins to move, his thumb coming up to swipe lovingly across your clit as you ride his fingers in earnest. 

He glares at the way your skirt blocks his view of the proceedings, and you almost laugh when his shadow emerges from under the bed to almost petulantly shove at the fabric; you take it in hand to hold it out of the way, the chuckle breaking forth when he hisses between his teeth as he starts to slowly thrust his hips again. “There we are, darling,” he purrs, his pupils blown wide as he watches your thighs tremble where his hand parts them, fingers damp with your slick as he rocks them in and out of you. His other hand moves with the same steady rhythm, fucking into the soft silicone with a single-minded determination.

It’s difficult to focus on the show being put on for you when Alastor has taken to curling his fingers just so, your mind fuzzy with the pleasure of it all; your body tips forward, a hand darting out to catch yourself on Alastor’s lower abdomen, the skin and fur that meets your palm damp with sweat. When you make contact he swears, something that never fails to make you giddy with arousal; a sure sign that he was losing control of himself, it makes your breath come faster, lungs constricting with the knowledge that it was your doing. He says your name in a breathless whisper, his voice crackling with feedback that makes your inner walls clench. His hands move in desperate tandem, messy, wet noises coming from the slide of the toy along his length and the thrust of his fingers inside you. Alastor’s teeth bare in frustration as he cants his hips back and forth, the pleasure in his expression evident but not enough to tip him over the precipice.

“Please,” you finally whine, hovering at the edge of orgasm yourself with Alastor bare and vulnerable before you, his movements against your body practiced and as perfect as they always were. At your plea he moans, low and sweet, and then the hand he had wrapped around the toy is curled tightly into your hair and pulling you down to crash your mouth into his.

His breath is labored, hot and damp as his tongue brushes against yours while he crushes you to his body. The fingers inside you do not cease their masterful ministrations as he kisses you desperately, the circuit of your bodies complete at last. Since the view is evidently no longer a priority, you release your skirt to slide that hand gently into his locks, fingers gentle against the base of his antlers like you’ve learned he likes; the noise he makes into your mouth is broken, pleading.

The lightning-quick strike of pleasure catches you off guard, your gasp lost to Alastor’s mouth as the dam breaks, ecstasy flooding your body and brain in a crashing wave that pulls your limbs taut, muscles clenched and shaking over your partner. The aftershocks of it roll through you, a tremor to your body that Alastor would usually calm by holding you tightly to his chest until your frame went lax against him when it finally passed.

In this moment he is too adrift, his eyes hazy when you pull back to watch him; his hips jerk fruitless beneath you, apparently unwilling to release his hold on you to resume use of the toy. You have mercy on him, reaching further back with the hand that had been braced on his abdomen to wrap around the hard outer frame of the fleshlight, tugging it away and replacing it with your hand. He hisses at the contact, pupils turned to dials as he watches your face, a plea on his lips. It’s a mere two, three pumps of your wrist before he’s spilling over your fingers hard with a quiet, almost pained sigh of your name.

You’ve hardly thought about wiping the mess into his fur when his shadow reaches a snaky tendril across the bed with a warm rag, a fond, satisfied grin stretched across its face. You shoot the extension of your partner a wink before using the offered item to wipe the evidence of Alastor’s release away, brush it gently over the sweat-soaked skin of his abdomen with your head still pressed to Alastor’s heaving chest. “What do you think?” You asked, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone, and it’s a moment while he wipes his own hands clean behind you before he answers.

“Satisfactory,” he says simply, “though I believe you were a large contributing factor to that.” He brings his arms up to circle your frame, holding you tightly to him as his heart rate slows beneath you. “Were it not for your suggestion I’d hardly have bothered with the thing- and without your participation I doubt I’d have finished. But it is… thrilling, I suppose, to try something new.”

You can’t help the chuckle that you release into his skin. “You know, usually people don’t bring toys into the bedroom until the relationship has gotten boring.”

He smooths his hands over your frazzled hair before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You know how this started between us,” he says, repositioning your body more comfortably so you can fall asleep entwined with one another, your breath already slowing at the sounds of his soothing voice. “When have we ever had any fun doing things the usual way?”

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

[estellamiraiauthor]

Welp, the simple story behind my Tumblr username is that it’s my pen name plus “author,” because “EstellaMirai” on its own was already taken. I’m pretty sure it was actually taken by me a long time ago, but I can’t remember what email address and password I used for it, so it’s just a dead account now.

As to why my pen name is Estella Mirai… once it became clear that no traditional publisher was going to buy The Stars May Rise and Fall, I decided to use a pen name, basically because I knew my family would see “getting published” itself as an accomplishment if it was with a big publisher, but would only see self-publishing as an accomplishment if it was “successful,” so I was giving myself the choice of whether/when to tell them.

I used a Western first name and Japanese surname because that matches my actual name. “Estella” for “stars,” I.e. the title of my first book, and “Mirai” (which is just a Japanese WORD and sometimes used as a given name, but isn’t really a surname that I know of) means “future,” because I was hoping that the decision to self-publish wasn’t “giving up,” but just the beginning!

Tagging anyone who wants to do it!

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[elryuse]

Show Must Go On

Ahyeon & BABYMONSTER X Male Reader

Tags : Romance, Angsty, Depressing, Hopeful, Fluff, Depth

Words : 11+k Words

Warning : This Is a Completely Made-up story. If there are any Names or Characters that Are similar. I do not mean to do any harm, and This story includes angsty stuff

A/n : I Kinda have this Whole Story in mind. And Since I can't sleep, Why not try to make it alive. If you all Enjoyed it, I might make A Sequel in the Future.

!Tragic News, Ladies and Gentlemen!

The air was thick with grief as the news broke. BABYMONSTER’s Ahyeon had been in a terrible accident.

Rumors spread like wildfire—whispers of reckless driving, an ex-boyfriend behind the wheel, and a devastating crash that sent their car slamming into a semi-truck. The impact was brutal. Ahyeon was left with fractured heels and both arms shattered—her body broken, her future uncertain.

As she was rushed to the ICU, her fellow BABYMONSTER members were seen in tears, standing helplessly outside the operation room. Fans swarmed the hospital, their worried voices echoing through the halls, praying for any sign of hope.

Days passed in agonizing silence. Then, finally—she survived.

But survival came at a cost.

Ahyeon would be unable to walk for months. She would have to drastically slow down in an industry where every second counted. The once-rising star was now in limbo, placed on an indefinite hiatus that left fans wondering: Would she ever come back.

The air felt colder than usual as I slowly opened my eyes.

I was awake. Alive.

And yet, I wished I wasn’t.

My legs were numb. My arms ached like hell. The room was a mess—soju bottles scattered across the floor, empty, just like me. I didn’t even remember how much I drank. Anything to dull the pain, to silence the thoughts, to drown in my own oblivion.

It had been months since the accident.

That bastard.

That pathetic excuse of a man.

But it wasn’t just him. I was angry at everything. At myself, at my members, at fate itself. I hated God for doing this to me.

I was supposed to be on stage, dancing, singing, basking in the love of my fans. Instead, I was rotting away in this dark room, my body fragile, my future stolen.

I knew the others were moving on without me. Comeback after comeback, performance after performance—without me.

And I hated them for it.

Ruka and Chiquita visited often. The others? Too busy, they said. Chiquita would sit beside me, trying to cheer me up. She told me how much BAEMON missed me, how much the fans were waiting.

And God, I missed them too.

I missed the thrill of performing. I missed the cheers, the lights, the energy. I missed feeling alive.

But I couldn’t face them.

I wasn’t Ahyeon anymore.

I was just a broken girl trapped in a broken body.

That is, until I met him.

You.

The moment you walked into my life, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.

Curiosity.

You weren’t like the others. You were different.

Our new song producer, Y/n.

A rookie, just like us. Young, bright-eyed, hopeful. You greeted everyone with warmth, your smile never wavering. Even when you knew I wasn’t part of this comeback, you still tried to get to know me.

I hated it.

It felt fake. Too friendly. Too… hopeful.

Hope was something I had long abandoned.

Yet, you never gave up.

You snuck into my room, bringing warm meals, even soju. At first, I thought you were just another fake. A creep.

So I pushed you away.

And instead of insisting, you apologized.

You backed off, respecting my space, promising you wouldn’t bother me anymore.

And that’s when I started missing you.

I didn’t know why. But I did.

Watching you laugh with my members, seeing how easily you fit in with them—it felt weird. Like I was an outsider to my own family.

You kept coming to the dorm, sneaking in forbidden meals—tteokbokki, jokbal, all the things we weren’t supposed to eat.

And for the first time in forever, we felt human.

We weren’t just idols, we were people.

You reminded us of who we were before the industry caged us.

And that’s when I realized—I had made a mistake.

You weren’t trying to replace me.

You were trying to save me.

You wanted me to fight. To stand back up. To be Ahyeon again.

But the world wouldn’t allow it.

YG saw how close you had gotten to us. They didn’t like it. They didn’t like you.

And before we could do anything, they fired you.

Just like that.

We begged them to reconsider. We explained everything. But they didn’t care.

We were idols.

And idols don’t get to choose who stays or who leaves.

You were gone.

And we were back to square one.

The Last Words You Left Me With

Time passed. I healed. Slowly. Painfully.

I could dance again. A little.

But the doctor kept warning me not to push myself.

And yet, I wanted to.

I needed to.

Because your words still echoed in my mind—

"Be yourself, Ahyeon."

"You don’t need to blame the universe anymore."

"You’re not a misfortune."

"What happened to you, what happened to everyone—it’s a blessing, and a lesson."

"I know it seems hard to accept. But sooner or later, you’ll understand."

That was the last thing you ever said to me.

The last thing before they took you away.

And now, as I stand here, dancing once more, rehearsing for our latest comeback—DRIP—I hear Ruka’s voice behind me.

"What’s wrong, Ahyeon?"

I stop.

My heart pounds faster and faster.

And for the first time in a long time…

I know the answer.

The scent of sizzling meat and freshly steamed rice filled the air as I wiped my hands on my apron. The dinner rush had finally settled, and for once, I could take a breath.

I never thought I’d end up here—working part-time at a small restaurant after everything that happened.

Music had been my life. BABYMONSTER had been my life.

But now, it was nothing more than a distant memory.

I still followed their updates, of course. I watched their performances from behind a screen, listening to the songs I never got the chance to produce. I wondered if their new producer treated them with kindness, if he saw them as people, not just idols.

I hoped so.

I prayed for it.

Because if he didn’t…

Then what was the point of all this?

I was in the middle of serving a table when I noticed them.

Two girls, sitting in the farthest corner of the restaurant. They wore caps, oversized hoodies, and sunglasses, but even with the disguises, I knew instantly.

Ruka and Chiquita.

For a moment, I froze.

They hadn’t seen me yet. They were chatting in hushed voices, occasionally glancing around, making sure no one recognized them.

And then, Chiquita laughed—a soft, familiar laugh.

God. I missed them.

I took a deep breath, walked up to their table, and placed a tray of warm dishes in front of them.

"Would you ladies like anything else?" I asked casually.

They both stopped mid-conversation.

Chiquita turned to me first, brows furrowing behind her shades. Then her lips parted slightly, realization dawning.

Ruka lowered her sunglasses just enough for me to see the shock in her eyes.

"No way."

I grinned. "Long time no see, huh?"

Chiquita gasped, practically jumping in her seat. "Oh my God—Y/n! What are you doing here?!"

I chuckled, scratching the back of my head. "Working, obviously."

"But—why? What happened to producing?" Ruka asked, her voice softer, more hesitant.

I hesitated.

How was I supposed to answer that?

That YG tossed me aside like I was nothing? That the dream I had fought for, bled for, had slipped through my fingers overnight?

I forced a small smile. "It’s a long story."

Ruka looked like she wanted to say something, but Chiquita was already tugging on my arm, eyes wide with excitement.

"You have no idea how much we missed you."

My chest tightened at her words.

"Yeah?" I said, trying to sound playful, but my voice came out quieter than I expected.

"Yeah." Ruka nodded. "Ahyeon too."

I froze.

"How is she?" I asked carefully.

Chiquita grinned. "Better. She’s been working hard. She can dance again, Y/n. It’s not like before, but she’s getting there."

Something in me relaxed.

I had spent so many nights wondering if she was okay, if she had healed—not just physically, but emotionally. I had been terrified that she would never find the strength to stand back up again.

But hearing this…

Hearing that she was fighting—

It made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t completely failed her.

We spent the next few hours talking.

Catching up.

Reminiscing about the past.

They told me about Baemon’s comeback, about the new songs, about how things had changed—and how, in some ways, they hadn’t.

I told them about my life now, about the restaurant, about how I still missed music.

We laughed.

We shared stories.

And for a little while, it felt like nothing had changed at all.

Until I glanced at the clock.

It was late.

Too late.

"You guys should go home," I said, standing up. "If your managers find out you were out this long, they’ll kill you."

Chiquita groaned. "Ugh, don’t remind me."

Ruka smirked. "We snuck out. We’ll be fine."

I raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Chiquita sighed, finally relenting. "Fine, fine. But we’re coming back."

I smiled, shaking my head. "Do what you want. Just don’t get caught."

They stood up, both of them hesitating for a second before Chiquita suddenly lunged forward, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.

"We really, really missed you, Y/n."

I felt my throat tighten.

I hugged her back. "I missed you guys too."

Ruka didn’t say anything, but she reached out, giving my shoulder a small squeeze.

And then, just like that, they were gone.

Leaving me standing there, wondering if I would ever really see them again.

The stage was set.

BABYMONSTER stood at the center of the vast, dimly lit arena, their breaths shallow, hearts pounding against their ribcages as they stared out at the thousands of fans gathered before them. The air was thick with anticipation, the sound of the crowd humming like an electric current, waiting for the first note to drop.

Their latest album, "Forsaken," had been their most grueling project yet—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

They had given everything.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

Not just for themselves.

But for Ahyeon.

This was the first comeback where all seven of them would stand together again.

Ahyeon, dressed in a sleek black outfit that shimmered under the stage lights, took a deep breath. The weight of the moment sat heavy on her shoulders. Months of pain, struggle, and isolation had led her here. She had fought through rehabilitation, doubt, and the whispers of people who claimed she’d never be the same.

And yet—here she was.

Stronger than ever.

Chiquita reached out, giving Ahyeon’s hand a small, reassuring squeeze. Ruka, standing beside her, nodded silently, as if telling her, We’re with you.

Ahyeon swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat.

The lights dimmed.

The bass dropped.

And then—

The music began.

From the very first verse, BABYMONSTER commanded the stage with a presence that sent shockwaves through the arena. Their movements were sharper, more intense. The choreography had been pushed to its limits, their vocals raw with emotion.

Each line, each step, was fueled by anger, passion, and an unbreakable will to prove themselves.

Ahyeon moved like fire, her presence undeniable. She wasn’t just performing. She was fighting. Fighting for everything she had lost. Fighting for the future she refused to let go of.

The song built up to its climax, and in that moment—when Ahyeon hit the high note that once seemed impossible for her to reach again—the entire stadium roared.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

Instead, she pushed forward, harder than ever.

By the time the performance ended, they were breathless.

The audience erupted into deafening screams. Fans waved their lightsticks wildly, their chants of "BABYMONSTER! BABYMONSTER!" shaking the very foundation of the venue.

The members turned toward each other, their eyes gleaming with exhaustion, relief, and something else—victory.

Ahyeon felt Chiquita throw an arm around her shoulder, while Asa and Haram exchanged proud smiles. Rami wiped a stray tear from her eye, and Pharita grinned, flashing a thumbs-up.

And Ruka—Ruka simply nodded, a silent message passing between them.

They did it.

They had taken everything—the pain, the struggles, the doubt—and turned it into something breathtaking.

This comeback wasn’t just about returning to the stage.

It was a declaration.

A resurrection.

And for the first time in a long time, Ahyeon felt like she was finally, truly alive.

Meanwhile…

A lone figure stood at the back of the arena, away from the flashing cameras and roaring crowd.

Dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans, he blended into the sea of spectators, but his eyes never wavered from the stage.

From her.

Y/n watched as Ahyeon stood under the blinding lights, radiating strength he hadn’t seen in so long.

His heart ached, a mix of pride and something far more painful twisting inside him.

He had always believed in her.

Even when she didn’t believe in herself.

And now, seeing her shine brighter than ever, he realized—

She didn’t need him anymore.

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips.

Maybe this was how it was always meant to be.

She was a star, after all.

And he…

He was just someone who had once helped her find her way back to the sky.

With one last lingering glance, Y/n turned around—disappearing into the shadows.

Ahyeon felt it.

That familiar presence.

Even through the blinding lights, the deafening cheers, and the overwhelming emotions coursing through her veins—she knew he was there.

Y/n.

She had set her eyes on him from the very beginning, even when she pretended not to care. Even when she tried convincing herself that she had moved on.

But the moment she saw that silhouette in the distance, standing at the very back of the arena, her heart clenched so painfully it was almost unbearable.

She wanted to scream, to run toward him.

But instead—

She watched him turn away.

Leaving.

Again.

As if everything they had shared, everything he had meant to her, had been nothing more than a fleeting moment in his life.

A sharp sting burned in her chest, and before she could stop herself—tears spilled from her eyes.

The crowd gasped.

Her body trembled, breaths coming out in short, broken gasps.

The other members immediately noticed.

"Ahyeon?!" Ruka turned to her, voice filled with concern.

Chiquita reached out, her expression full of worry, "Are you okay?"

The panic spread quickly. The audience, the staff, even the cameramen capturing the live broadcast—everyone held their breath.

Ahyeon was crying.

On stage.

Something that had never happened before.

The air grew heavy with tension—until Rami, sensing the need to diffuse the moment, stepped in.

With a soft smile, she took Ahyeon’s hand and spoke into her mic.

“Ahyeon’s crying because she missed this. The fans, the stage, and… everyone.”

The crowd erupted into loud cheers, believing her words without question.

But the members knew better.

Ruka's grip on Ahyeon’s arm tightened slightly, a silent way of saying, We’ll talk later.

Chiquita didn’t look convinced either, her gaze flickering toward the direction Ahyeon had been staring at just moments ago.

And Ahyeon—

She stood there, biting her lip, trying to hold herself together.

Even as the performance ended.

Even as they bowed to the audience.

Even as they exited the stage.

Her mind was stuck on one thing.

Y/n left.

And this time, she didn't want to let him go.

The night was supposed to be fun.

A simple, reckless joyride with my boyfriend, who had always been a little too careless, a little too impulsive. I should've known better.

The city lights blurred past us as he laughed, his hands barely gripping the steering wheel properly.

"Slow down," I murmured, trying to sound casual despite the unease creeping up my spine.

"Relax, babe! We're just having fun!" He grinned, stepping on the gas.

The car lurched forward.

The roads twisted and turned, but he didn't slow down. Instead, he swerved-zigzagging like a child playing a game.

"STOP!" I screamed, my hands gripping the seatbelt.

But he didn't.

And then

Impact.

A deafening crash.

The sound of metal crumpling.

My world spun violently as glass shattered around me, raining down like deadly stars.

Then-silence.

I could hear my heartbeat.

Slow. Faint.

Pain. Everywhere.

I tried to move, but my body wouldn't listen.

My arms-twisted, broken.

My legs-unresponsive.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream.

The taste of blood coated my tongue as my vision flickered. I turned my head-barely.

My boyfriend was slumped over the steering wheel, motionless.

Sirens wailed in the distance, but they felt so far away.

Everything felt so distant.

I wasn't even sure if I was still alive.

I closed my eyes.

And when I opened them again

I was in a hospital bed.

The room was white, sterile, suffocating. My entire body ached, and when I tried to move-nothing.

The realization sank in slowly, painfully.

I wasn't the same anymore.

Then the doctor came in, his expression unreadable.

He told me the damage was severe. That my heels were fractured. That both my arms were completely broken.

And then, with a tone too gentle, too apologetic, he said the words that destroyed me.

"You may never be able to dance or sing like before."

I forgot how to breathe.

The walls closed in on me.

No.

No, this wasn't happening.

My future-ruined.

The career I worked my entire life for-gone.

I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a choked sob.

My body shook as reality crushed me, shattering everything I thought I was.

I wasn't Ahyeon, the center of Babymonster.

I wasn't Ahyeon, the girl with dreams so big they touched the stars.

I was just

Nothing.

The warmth surrounding me was unfamiliar, yet comforting. As my heavy eyelids slowly fluttered open, the dim glow of the early morning seeped through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.

I could feel them.

Their breaths, slow and steady, their bodies pressed close against mine—my members.

Chiquita had her arms wrapped around my waist, her face buried against my side. Rami rested near my shoulder, while Asa and Pharita were tangled together at the edge of the bed. Even Haram, who usually preferred sleeping in her own space, had curled up near my feet.

And Ruka—

The first one to stir.

I felt her shift beside me, her presence familiar and grounding. A moment later, I heard her sigh softly.

"Ahyeon…" Her voice was quiet, hesitant. "You're awake."

I didn’t respond.

I couldn’t.

The remnants of my nightmare still clung to me like chains, dragging me back to that night—the accident, the pain, the hopelessness. I could still feel it.

Ruka sat up slightly, brushing strands of hair from my face as her gaze softened. "What happened?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my head away.

Silence.

A single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek.

Ruka saw it.

Without hesitation, she reached out, her fingers gently wiping it away.

She didn’t press for answers.

Didn’t force me to speak.

Instead, she just stayed.

A deep sigh escaped her lips before she leaned closer, resting her forehead against mine.

"We'll see him again," she whispered.

I froze.

My heart clenched.

She didn’t need to say his name. I already knew.

Y/n.

The person who had saved me in ways no one else could.

The warmth he brought into our lives, the small moments of joy he had given us—me.

The one person I couldn’t afford to lose again.

I closed my eyes, inhaling shakily.

I wanted to believe her.

That one day, somehow, we’d see him again.

The scent of sizzling meat filled the air as I moved between tables, balancing a tray of steaming dishes. The dinner rush had just begun, and the small restaurant was packed with customers.

It had been months since I left YG. Months since I walked away from the music industry—the very thing I had dedicated my entire life to.

And yet, no matter how much time passed, I couldn’t forget.

I still missed it. The late-night studio sessions, the endless brainstorming for the perfect melody, the way music could breathe life into the lifeless.

But more than anything—

I missed them. Babymonster.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away as I placed a plate of tteokbokki on a customer’s table.

Then, just as I turned to grab another order—

I saw her.

Ruka.

She was standing near the entrance, wearing a hoodie and a cap, her long hair tucked behind her ears. Despite the attempt at a disguise, I could recognize her instantly.

But something was wrong.

Her eyes—normally filled with confidence, strength—were dull. Weary. She stood there, unmoving, her fingers clutching the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

I immediately stepped forward, concern flooding my chest.

"Ruka?" My voice was cautious, careful. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up at me, her lips pressing together as if she was trying to find the right words. But she said nothing.

Instead, she lowered her head.

And then—

A tear slipped down her cheek.

I froze.

Ruka never cried.

She was the strongest out of all of them, the pillar that held everyone together. Seeing her break down like this—seeing the weight of something so unbearable pressing against her shoulders—made my stomach twist.

"Hey, hey…" I quickly set my tray aside and stepped closer, placing a hand on her back. "Talk to me. What’s going on?"

She sniffled, swallowing hard before whispering, "Ahyeon."

My heart stopped.

I tightened my grip on her shoulder. "What happened to Ahyeon?"

Ruka inhaled sharply, as if she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. "She’s… she’s not okay, Y/n." Her voice cracked. "She’s trying to act like she is, but I see it. We all see it."

I stayed silent, waiting.

"She cries when she thinks no one is watching. She barely eats. She’s pushing herself too hard, forcing herself to smile when she’s hurting inside." Ruka clenched her fists. "Ever since you left, it’s like she’s just… drifting."

I felt my chest tighten.

Ahyeon.

The girl who once radiated fire and determination. The girl who fought through everything to chase her dreams.

And now, she was falling apart.

Ruka exhaled shakily, her voice almost pleading. "She needs you, Y/n."

I swallowed hard.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t go back. That I wouldn’t step into that world again.

But this wasn’t about me anymore.

This was about her.

The ride to their dorm was quiet.

Ruka sat beside me in the backseat of a black van, her arms crossed, eyes staring out the window. She had stopped crying, but the heavy weight in the air remained.

I, on the other hand, could feel my heart pounding against my ribs.

I didn’t know what to expect.

It had been months since I left. Months since I had last seen them. Since I had last seen her.

And now, here I was—returning like nothing had happened.

As the van pulled up to the familiar building, I hesitated for a brief moment. Was this the right thing to do?

Before I could dwell on it, Ruka stepped out first, turning back to glance at me. “Come on.”

I followed.

She led me through the hallway, each step bringing back memories I thought I had buried. The late-night talks. The laughter. The music.

Then, finally—

We stopped in front of the door.

Ruka knocked twice before pushing it open.

The moment I stepped inside, everything hit me at once.

The warmth of the dorm. The familiar scent of vanilla candles. The soft hum of the heater running in the background.

And then—

Them.

The members turned towards the door, and for a second, there was silence.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Then, in a heartbeat—

They ran to me.

"Y/n!"

Before I could react, I was engulfed in their embrace. Rami clung onto my arm. Pharita buried her face against my shoulder. Chiquita was holding onto my back, muttering how much she missed me. Asa had her arms wrapped around my waist. Rami was blinking away tears, trying to stay composed.

It was overwhelming.

I never expected this.

I had convinced myself that they had moved on. That I was nothing more than a passing figure in their lives. But now—

Now, I could feel it.

I had meant something to them.

And then, amidst the overwhelming warmth of their embrace—

I saw her.

Ahyeon.

She sat on the edge of her bed, frozen in place. Her breath hitched, her eyes wide with disbelief.

I felt my chest tighten.

She looked… different.

Paler. Thinner. The usual spark in her eyes had dulled.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead—

Tears fell.

One by one, streaming down her face as her lips trembled.

Then, suddenly—

She moved.

Ahyeon shot up from her bed, running straight towards me before throwing her arms around my neck.

She sobbed.

Not just tears—but a raw, painful cry.

I felt her fists clench against my back as she buried her face into my shoulder, her body trembling.

I could only hold her tighter.

No words were needed.

I was here.

And I wasn’t leaving again.

I held Ahyeon close, her body trembling against mine. Her sobs slowly quieted, but her grip on my shirt didn’t loosen.

I ran a gentle hand down her back, whispering, "It’s okay, Ahyeon. I’m here."

She sniffled, her breath shaky. "You left," she choked out, voice fragile. "You left me, Y/n."

Her words cut deep.

I wanted to say I didn’t have a choice. That it wasn’t my fault. That YG had forced me out. But none of that mattered now.

Instead, I leaned back slightly, resting my forehead against hers. "I know," I admitted. "And I’m sorry. But I’m here now."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I want to believe you," she whispered. "I want to believe in everything again. In myself. In my future. But…"

Her voice broke.

"The nightmares don’t stop."

I felt my chest tighten.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see it," she confessed. "The accident. The crash. The pain. I hear the doctors telling me I might never dance again. I see my members moving forward while I stay behind. I feel useless. Worthless."

Her grip on my shirt tightened. "I don’t want to be weak, Y/n. But I… I don’t know how to be strong anymore."

I exhaled softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "You don’t have to be strong all the time, Ahyeon. It’s okay to be scared."

She blinked up at me, eyes glossy.

"But you’re not alone. Not anymore."

The members, who had been silently watching, moved closer.

Ruka knelt beside us, taking Ahyeon’s hand. "We’re with you, Ahyeon. Every step of the way."

Chiquita nodded, her voice gentle. "You’re not worthless. You’re our sister."

Haru smiled through teary eyes. "And no matter how long it takes… we’ll wait for you."

Ahyeon looked at them—her family.

For the first time in months, something flickered in her gaze.

Hope.

She swallowed hard, then turned back to me. "What if I fail?"

I smiled softly. "Then we’ll pick you back up."

A shaky breath escaped her lips. "And if I fall again?"

I squeezed her hand. "Then we’ll catch you."

Silence stretched between us.

Then—

She let out a small, broken laugh.

It wasn’t much.

But it was a start.

Days passed, and with Ruka’s help, I found myself sneaking into their dorm more often. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small act of defiance against the system that had tried to break them.

Late at night, while the world slept, I stood in their kitchen, chopping vegetables and simmering broths. Warm meals. Nutritious meals. Food that would give them strength—not just physically, but emotionally.

Asa and Rami soon caught on, peeking into the kitchen one night as I was stirring a pot of kimchi jjigae.

"Oppa, what are you making?" Asa asked curiously, leaning over the counter.

Rami’s eyes widened as she inhaled the aroma. "That smells so good… Can we help?"

I chuckled, handing them cutting boards and knives. "Only if you’re serious about learning."

They grinned, eagerly rolling up their sleeves.

The kitchen became lively—filled with the sound of chopping, sizzling, and laughter. It had been so long since they’d had moments like this. Moments that felt normal.

Ahyeon, who had been hesitant to join at first, eventually wandered in, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

I smirked, holding up a spoonful of soup. "Making something for you."

She hesitated, then sat down at the counter, watching us.

It was a slow process, but every day, she smiled a little more.

Every day, her voice grew stronger.

Every day, she became more herself.

And I knew—

This was just the beginning.

The more time I spent with Ahyeon, the deeper my feelings grew. They crept in, subtle at first, like a quiet undercurrent in the midst of a raging sea. She would laugh at something I said, her eyes sparkling, and I could feel it—my heart tightening in a way I couldn’t explain.

But it wasn’t just the way she smiled.

It was the way she tried, even when the world was against her. How she picked herself up each time she fell. How she fought for herself even when she didn’t believe she could anymore.

Every moment I spent with her made my heart swell with pride—and it made the ache in my chest grow.

I loved her.

From the first moment I saw her—broken, fragile, yet so incredibly strong—I knew. But I pushed those feelings down, buried them beneath the layers of doubt and self-loathing. After all, who was I to be in her world?

She was a famous idol, adored by millions. Her voice, her dance moves, her energy—they were what made her who she was. She had a future that stretched out in front of her, full of promise.

And then there was me—just a failure.

A failed producer from YG, left behind when everything fell apart. Now, I was working part-time at a small restaurant. My world felt so small, so insignificant, compared to hers.

But every time she smiled at me—every time she trusted me enough to let me in—I couldn’t stop myself.

I had to be there for her. I had to.

Even if it meant putting my own dreams aside. Even if it meant making myself invisible while she soared.

I watched as she tried to pick up the pieces of her broken self, trying to rebuild what she had lost. And I saw the cracks in her, the places where she hurt. Those places she couldn’t let anyone else see.

But I saw them.

And I promised myself I would help her, no matter the cost.

I would help her achieve her dreams. I would help her heal, find her pace.

I didn’t care if I was just a background figure in her life. As long as I could be there for her, even from the shadows, I’d be content.

So, I kept showing up—late at night, quietly slipping into her dorm with hot meals and words of encouragement. I kept pushing my feelings down, burying them deep, even when the urge to tell her how I felt nearly overwhelmed me.

I wanted to be the one to help her stand again, to be the one who would support her until she could walk on her own. I wanted to make sure she didn’t feel alone anymore.

She had to believe in herself again. And if that meant staying in the background—sacrificing my own happiness for her—I would do it.

For Ahyeon…

For the girl I loved, even though I could never tell her.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I couldn’t help but smile.

The group—Babymonster—had decided to show up at my restaurant on their day off, and of course, I couldn’t turn them down. Not that I wanted to. They were a force of nature, impossible to ignore. When they walked through the door, laughing and chatting, it was like the entire place lit up. There was no way I could stop them, so I did the next best thing—I embraced it.

"Alright, alright, just let me get the orders in and I'll treat you to something special," I said, trying to hide the excitement bubbling up inside me.

The restaurant was smaller than what they were used to, but the atmosphere was warm and inviting, and they made themselves at home almost immediately. Rami, Ahyeon, and Chiquita wasted no time ordering their food, laughing and joking as they did. The mood was light, and for the first time in a while, everything felt... normal.

They were here to have fun. To forget about the pressures of their careers, their image, and their responsibilities for a little while. And I was happy to be the one to give them that chance.

The meal was a hit—each plate I brought to the table was met with genuine praise and gratitude. I felt proud. For once, I could provide something that made them feel good.

But the real fun began when someone—most likely Chiquita, with her playful nature—suggested karaoke.

I tried to brush it off at first, laughing nervously. "Karaoke? You know how awful I am at singing," I said.

But they didn’t care. It wasn’t about being perfect. It was about having fun. They dragged me into it anyway, and soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of their voices, each one confident and beautiful in its own way.

Ahyeon, in particular, caught my attention. As she sang, her voice growing stronger with each note, I saw something I hadn’t seen in a while—the joy of singing, of expressing herself without fear.

At first, she was a little tentative, her eyes flickering to the others as if seeking approval. But with each verse, she started to relax, her voice finding its power.

I couldn’t stop watching her.

Her voice wasn’t just beautiful—it was healing. I could see it in the way she let go of the tension in her shoulders, the way she started to believe in herself again, if only for a moment.

She was finally her again.

Ruka, who was sitting quietly next to me, noticed my gaze and giggled. “You like what you see?” she teased, nudging me playfully.

I flushed, caught off guard, but I couldn’t deny the truth. “I... I’m happy for her,” I said, my voice a little softer than I intended.

Ruka raised an eyebrow. "It’s obvious," she said with a smirk. "You’ve got it bad for her, huh?"

I shook my head quickly, not sure how to respond, but my heart knew the truth.

I was falling for Ahyeon more and more each day. Watching her sing, seeing the way she began to shine again—it was hard to ignore the way she made me feel.

But I couldn’t let her know. Not now.

For now, I was content to just watch her heal, to support her from the sidelines. That was all I could do.

And as the group continued to sing their hearts out, I smiled, knowing that for tonight, at least, they had a safe space to just be themselves. And Ahyeon—she was finally starting to believe she could be herself again.

The night had gone smoothly, all things considered. After the karaoke session, the group was in high spirits—laughing, joking, and clearly enjoying themselves more than I had expected. Their energy, infectious and carefree, made the atmosphere feel lighter than usual. But as the night wore on, the alcohol started to take its toll on them. They were all a bit tipsy, swaying with every step and laughing at even the smallest things.

I helped Ruka guide them out of the restaurant, making sure they stayed steady on their feet. First, it was Rami, then Chiquita, who was still giggling, and then Asa, who clung to me a little longer than necessary for support. One by one, I guided them to the van, making sure they were all safe and sound.

But when it was Ahyeon's turn, I couldn't help myself.

She stood there, swaying slightly, her dark hair illuminated by the glow of the streetlights. Her eyes, although hazy from the alcohol, still held that same quiet intensity. She looked so... ethereal. It was hard to look away. She was like a moon in the middle of a dark night—her beauty felt otherworldly.

I stood frozen for a moment, caught in the pull of her presence. Her lips were slightly parted as she blinked, her gaze meeting mine with that soft vulnerability I had only ever seen in private moments. For a split second, everything else faded away.

But then, Ruka's sharp voice cut through the moment.

“Y/n! What the hell are you doing?! Bring her in now before someone notices!”

I snapped back to reality, my heart racing as I realized how long I had been staring. Quickly, I stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Ahyeon’s back to guide her to the van.

She stumbled slightly but smiled up at me, her voice soft and a little slurred. “Thank you… Y/n,” she murmured, her tone warm, and for a brief second, I thought I heard a hint of something deeper.

I swallowed hard, trying to hide the way my heart fluttered at the sound of her voice.

Ruka, still standing by the van, glared at me with a mix of amusement and frustration. “You’re lucky they’re too drunk to notice,” she said, her tone teasing yet protective. “Let’s get them inside before our manager has a heart attack.”

I nodded, still a little flustered from the way Ahyeon had looked at me. The night felt surreal, like something out of a dream, but I couldn’t ignore the way she made me feel.

As I helped Ahyeon into the van, I couldn’t shake the thought of her—her presence, her warmth, her quiet beauty. I wanted to protect her, to be there for her, to make her feel like she wasn’t alone in this crazy world she lived in.

But for now, I could only help her when I could.

The text from Ahyeon came unexpectedly. Simple, yet it sent a rush of anticipation through me.

“Y/n, can you come to the dorm? I… I just want you to be here.”

There was no elaboration, no further explanation. It was unlike her to be so vague, but something in the way she worded it made my chest tighten. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I quickly typed out a response.

“Of course. I’ll be there soon.”

I couldn’t deny it—I was eager. I wanted to see her. I wanted to know what was going on in her mind, what she was feeling. But there was also that hint of worry in my chest. Ahyeon had been through so much, and the fear that she might be struggling again lingered in the back of my mind. Still, I had to be there for her. She’d asked me to come, and I couldn’t turn that down.

I grabbed my jacket and made my way out of the restaurant, my mind racing with questions I couldn’t answer. What did she need? What was she thinking? Was everything okay?

The drive to the dorm felt longer than usual. With each passing minute, I could feel my heart beat faster, a mixture of excitement and nerves building up. When I finally arrived, I parked the car, took a deep breath, and walked toward the entrance.

Ruka was standing by the door when I arrived, her usual calm demeanor giving way to a slight curiosity. She gave me a small nod.

“She’s in her room. You can go up. Just… don’t ask too many questions. She’s been quiet today.”

Her words only deepened the worry I felt. I didn’t want to intrude, but I knew I had to be there for Ahyeon, even if she wasn’t saying much.

I nodded back at Ruka, though my thoughts were already with Ahyeon as I made my way up the stairs.

When I reached her room, I hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the door. I didn’t want to disturb her if she was resting, but I was also afraid of what I might find if she wasn’t.

A soft voice called from inside. “Come in.”

I pushed the door open slowly, and there she was—sitting on her bed, looking as delicate and fragile as I’d ever seen her. Her eyes were slightly red, as if she’d been thinking deeply or maybe even crying. She was wrapped in a soft blanket, her gaze focused on the floor in front of her.

As I stepped inside, she looked up at me, her expression unreadable. But when she saw me, her lips curled into a small, fragile smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Y/n…” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

I walked over to her and sat down beside her, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to pressure her, but I also wanted to let her know I was here for her. Whatever it was, I wanted to be the one she turned to.

“Hey,” I said softly, my voice gentle. “You called me here. What’s going on? What’s on your mind?”

Ahyeon remained silent for a few moments, and just when I thought she wasn’t going to answer, she spoke again. Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t seem to care.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Y/n,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “Everything feels so heavy. I want to be strong. I want to keep going… but sometimes, I just feel like I can’t. Like I’m drowning.”

The words hit me hard, more than I expected. Ahyeon, who had always been the star—the one who shone brightly, no matter the darkness—was struggling. And I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I couldn’t pretend she was okay when she was clearly fighting something inside.

I didn’t know what to say, but what I did know was that I couldn’t leave her like this. I couldn’t stand seeing her like this. So, I did the only thing that felt right. I reached out, placing my hand gently over hers.

“It’s okay,” I said, my voice filled with certainty. “You don’t have to do it all alone. You’re not drowning, Ahyeon. You’re not. I’m right here. And I always will be.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed my hand, a small but meaningful gesture. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and I could see the weight she had been carrying—everything she had been hiding from the world—finally coming to the surface.

“I don’t want to lose everything again,” she whispered, her voice full of pain.

And in that moment, I realized—Ahyeon wasn’t just struggling with the pressures of being an idol. She was still haunted by the trauma of her past. The accident. The fear. The uncertainty. It was all still so fresh in her mind, and she was fighting it every single day.

I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her gently. “You won’t lose anything, Ahyeon. Not as long as I’m here.”

The kiss was a whirlwind, unexpected but full of emotion. When her lips touched mine, everything else seemed to fade away. The warmth of her kiss, soft and gentle at first, quickly deepened, and I couldn’t help but respond, my heart racing. The faint lavender scent of her lipstick lingered on my lips, mingling with the tears that had escaped her eyes.

Ahyeon pulled back, her face flushed, but the sadness was still evident in her eyes. She looked at me for a moment, as if trying to gather the right words, but before she could speak, she collapsed into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my chest. Her sobs were quiet at first, but soon they grew louder, filled with the weight of everything she had been holding in.

I held her close, my hand gently stroking her hair, trying to comfort her in the only way I knew how. “Ahyeon, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m here for you. Always.”

She cried harder, her body shaking in my arms. It broke my heart to see her like this, so vulnerable and lost, but in a way, it was a relief. I could feel her letting go of the pressure she had been carrying. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to carry it alone, that she didn’t have to hide her pain, but I knew she needed time to process everything.

Minutes passed, maybe even hours, as we sat there in silence. All I could do was hold her, letting her cry it out. The tears that had been locked away for so long were finally flowing freely, and I didn’t try to stop them. She needed this release. She needed to let go.

When her sobs slowed down and her breathing became more steady, she pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at me. Her eyes were red, her cheeks streaked with tears, but there was something softer in her gaze now. Something raw, yet hopeful.

“Y/n,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I’ve been so afraid… afraid of everything. But with you… I feel like I can breathe again.”

I gently cupped her face in my hands, brushing away the remaining tears with my thumbs. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, Ahyeon. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here. You’re not alone in this.”

She nodded, her lips trembling as she took a deep breath. “I know. And I want to believe that. I really do.”

I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers. “Then believe it. You’re not alone, Ahyeon. Not anymore.”

In that moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little. We sat there in the quiet of her room, holding each other, letting the silence speak for us. The connection between us, stronger than before, had become something undeniable. And though I wasn’t sure what the future held, one thing was certain—I would be there for her, no matter what.

And for the first time in a long time, I could feel a sense of peace settle in my chest.

Ahyeon’s progress was undeniable. With each passing day, she seemed to be growing stronger, more confident in herself. The members couldn’t help but notice the change, and they were all quick to comment on it. "You two look cute together," they would tease, making both Ahyeon and I blush fiercely. Ruka, in particular, was relentless. She’d joke around, calling us a couple and teasing me until I became a nervous wreck.

But despite the teasing, I could see how much it meant to Ahyeon. Every moment we spent together, watching movies, talking late into the night, or just laughing at the simplest things, made her feel alive again. The darkness that had clouded her for so long was slowly lifting, replaced by the light of connection, support, and the growing bond we had.

It wasn’t easy, but little by little, I could see the person she once was emerging from beneath all the fear and trauma. And I couldn’t help but feel proud of her.

As their comeback grew closer, the excitement and pressure in the dorm increased. "Momentary Dream" was going to be their biggest comeback yet. With a sound that was bold and elegant, filled with gorgeous tones and powerful voices, it was destined to be a masterpiece. But for Ahyeon, this comeback was even more personal—it was her chance to prove to herself that she could do it. That she was back. Back in control. Back on her own pace.

The sound of her high notes during practice, the way her voice soared with clarity and strength, reminded me of how much she had fought to get here. She had overcome so much—her injury, the emotional scars, the doubts. But now, she was embracing her chance to shine again.

One evening, as the girls were practicing, I found myself sitting off to the side, watching them with a smile on my face. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for Ahyeon. There was something about the way she carried herself now—more confident, more sure of who she was, and the way she had learned to balance her dreams with her own pace.

She caught my gaze from across the room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. I felt my heart flutter in response, as if the bond we shared had grown even stronger.

After practice, when the girls had scattered off to their rooms, Ahyeon came over to me. She looked at me, the same spark of determination in her eyes, but now, there was something softer there too.

"You know," she said, her voice gentle yet full of resolve, "I wouldn’t be here without You."

I could see how much she meant it. How deeply she believed in the words she was saying.

"You've helped me more than you know," she continued, her gaze never leaving mine. "You've given me the courage to face all the things I was running from. And now..." She paused, her eyes shining with emotion. "Now, I'm ready. I'm ready to show everyone who I really am. I want to be the best version of myself—for me and for all the people who’ve supported me."

I stepped closer, my heart swelling with pride and affection. "Ahyeon, you already are."

Her smile grew brighter at my words, and I could see the vulnerability in her eyes. But there was no fear anymore—just hope. And love. A love that had grown between us over time, nurtured in the quiet moments and shared experiences.

As the days leading up to the comeback flew by, I could feel the weight of everything she had been through slowly lifting. The comeback was her moment, and I knew she would make it shine brighter than ever.

And no matter what happened, I would always be by her side. Supporting her. Loving her. Watching her become the star she was always meant to be.

As the days ticked down to the comeback, the tension in the dorm was palpable, but it was a different kind of tension now. It wasn’t filled with fear or doubt anymore—it was the kind that comes before something truly amazing. The girls were working tirelessly, practicing their lines, their choreography, making sure every note was perfect. And Ahyeon, who had once been filled with anxiety and uncertainty, now stood tall. She was composed, confident. She had become someone new—a version of herself that she hadn’t recognized in so long, and it was a sight to behold.

Each time she smiled at me, as she rehearsed her parts, it was as though my heart did a little flip. The way her eyes lit up, the confidence in her voice—it all made me feel like everything she had been through was finally worth it. She had found her way back to herself, and it made me incredibly proud. In moments when she’d glance at me after hitting a particularly powerful high note or perfecting a move, there was this quiet assurance in her smile, a look that said she was ready for whatever came next.

I did my best to be there for her and the rest of the group, supporting them however I could. I’d stop by during rehearsals with warm meals, making sure they stayed nourished and energized. I helped Ruka with whatever I could, whether it was offering advice or just taking on some small tasks to ease their stress. But more than anything, I knew my role was to be their anchor—to keep things light, to remind them that it wasn’t just about the pressure of the comeback. It was about enjoying the process, staying true to themselves, and letting their passion shine.

One evening, after a long rehearsal, Ahyeon walked over to me, her expression soft but proud. "I think we're ready," she said with a gentle but excited smile. "I really feel it this time. This is going to be the one."

I nodded, my chest swelling with admiration for her. "You’ve worked so hard for this, Ahyeon. I believe in you."

She bit her lip, the familiar hint of vulnerability still there, though it was much more subdued now. "I know I’ve said this before, but… thank you. For everything. For believing in me when I didn’t even believe in myself."

I gently reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, my heart aching with emotion. "You were always worth believing in. You just needed to believe in yourself."

Her smile grew wider, and she placed her hand over mine. "I’ll keep that with me."

The next day, as they gathered for their final rehearsal before the actual performance, Ahyeon’s energy was contagious. The girls were laughing, teasing each other, yet still focused. They were all determined, but there was something else too—joy. They were enjoying each other’s company, celebrating the fact that they had come this far together.

When it came time for Ahyeon to sing her high note during the final run-through, I held my breath. Her voice rang out, clear and pure, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world held still. The power and emotion in that one note—it was more than just a performance. It was a symbol of her journey, of everything she had overcome. I could see the pride in her face as she finished, a quiet confidence radiating from her.

The girls all cheered, and for a brief moment, Ahyeon turned to look at me. Her smile was wide, almost radiant. In that moment, I realized something—this wasn’t just a comeback for her. It was the culmination of everything she had been working for, not just as an idol, but as a person. She had found her strength, her voice, and it was shining brighter than ever.

As I stood there, watching her, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful for the way she had allowed me to be part of her journey, and for the way she had let me help her find her way back to herself. I was certain that this comeback—her comeback—was going to be one of the greatest things she’d ever achieved.

And as I looked at her, standing there among her members, more confident and at peace than I had ever seen her before, I knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever stop her. Nothing would ever take away the smile on her face, the fire in her heart, or the strength in her voice. Because Ahyeon, at last, was truly herself again.

The morning of D-Day had finally arrived, a day the members of Babymonster had been waiting for. Their comeback stage was upon them, the culmination of all their hard work, sweat, and determination. The fans were eagerly anticipating the moment when they'd see the girls take the stage again, stronger and more confident than ever. But just as they were about to begin the final preparations, a tragedy struck.

Y/n, the one person who had always been there for them, the one person Ahyeon had started to rely on more than ever, was caught in a car accident. A drunk driver, reckless and careless, had slammed into his car while he was on his way home. The collision was severe, and Y/n was rushed to the hospital, unconscious and in critical condition. The news spread like wildfire, devastating the members, especially Ahyeon.

When the girls first heard the news, it was like the floor beneath them had been pulled away. The excitement they had been holding onto for their comeback was quickly replaced with fear and worry. The reality of the situation hit them like a ton of bricks.

Ahyeon, in particular, was overwhelmed. She stood there, staring blankly at her phone screen as the news flashed before her eyes, her body shaking. Her breath became shallow, uncontrollable, and her chest tightened with the weight of the news. The panic took hold of her as she gasped for air, unable to catch her breath.

Ruka, who had been preparing for the stage with the others, immediately rushed to her side. The others followed, surrounding Ahyeon, but she couldn’t stop shaking. The thought of Y/n lying in a hospital bed, possibly fighting for his life, consumed her.

"Ahyeon, please breathe," Ruka said gently, her voice cracking with concern. "You need to calm down. For him."

But Ahyeon could barely hear her through the pounding in her head. "He... he’s not okay... Y/n… he… he can’t be... please, no..." she stammered, her voice breaking.

The other members gathered around her, their arms enveloping her in a tight hug. They each whispered words of comfort, trying to keep her grounded. Chiquita held Ahyeon’s hand tightly. "We need to focus, Ahyeon. We have to be strong now. Y/n would want us to be strong. Asa placed her hand on Ahyeon’s back, her voice soothing but firm. "We can’t change what happened. But we can make sure we do this right. For him."

Rami, usually the quieter one, spoke up as well, her voice filled with determination. "We’re in this together. Y/n would want us to do this for him. To push through, no matter what."

But it was Ruka who spoke the words that seemed to cut through the panic. "Show must go on, Ahyeon. For him. For you. For us. He’s fighting for you right now. And you need to fight too."

At those words, Ahyeon’s body stilled. The frantic shaking began to slow, and she took a deep breath, though the weight of the situation still hung heavily in her chest. She thought of Y/n, of everything he had done for her, and how he had been there for her when she was at her lowest. She couldn’t just crumble now. Not when he needed her to be strong.

The members kept their arms around her, silently offering their support as Ahyeon slowly calmed down. The panic didn’t completely go away, but it subsided enough for her to steady herself.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’ll do it. For him. For Y/n."

The words were barely above a whisper, but they were enough. Enough to push her forward, to remind her of the strength she had found within herself. Ahyeon wiped away her tears, looking at each of the members who had been her strength through the turmoil. She nodded to herself, the determination slowly returning to her eyes.

The show would go on. It had to. She owed it to Y/n. And she owed it to herself, to them, to all of the fans who were waiting.

The members gave Ahyeon one last hug, and with a final, encouraging look, they left the room to prepare for the stage. Ahyeon followed them, her heart still heavy, but now, there was a quiet strength in her steps. They would make it through this. For Y/n. For themselves. They had come too far to let anything stop them now.

As they took their places on stage, the lights blinding, the cameras rolling, Ahyeon kept Y/n in her heart. She knew he was fighting, and she would fight for him too. She would give her all, just like she always had, but now with a fire that burned deeper.

Because no matter what happened, she wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not ever.

"Memories of You" – Title Track for MOMENTARY DREAM (Intro) [Soft instrumental, building tension] Ahyeon: In the silence, I was lost, A broken soul, a shattered cost, But you reached out, you found me, You fixed the pieces no one could see. (Verse 1) Ahyeon: I was broken like porcelain, Cracked and bruised, I couldn’t win, But you held me, made me whole again, You gave me strength I thought had been forgotten. (Pre-Chorus) Rora: Through the darkness, I couldn’t see, But you were there, standing next to me, You pulled me out from the wreckage I’d become, Now I'm alive, I'm no longer numb. (Chorus) All: Memories of you, a light in the storm, Through all the pain, you kept me warm, From shattered glass to a brand new start, You fixed me up, you healed my heart. Memories of you, forever we'll stay, No more shadows, no more decay, With you by my side, I'm not afraid, I'm whole again, the pieces you saved. (Ruka's & Asa’s Rap) Ruka: We were trapped in a labyrinth, no way out, People doubted us, filled us with doubt, But you came, showed us the light, Guided us through the endless night. Asa: You were the exit we needed to find, With you, we left the darkness behind, Now we stand, no longer lost, We owe you our strength, we paid the cost. (Verse 2) Rami: I was drowning in my own fears, But you wiped away all of my tears, With every step, you pulled me near, You made me feel like I could breathe again. Chiquita: You were the spark, I was the flame, You didn’t let me drown in shame, You held me close, you made me believe, That I could fly, that I could achieve. (Bridge) Pharita (Softly, growing stronger): In the dark, I couldn’t find my way, I couldn’t trust, I couldn’t stay, But your love, your warmth, it broke the chains, You fixed me when I thought I’d never be whole again. (Chorus) All: Memories of you, a light in the storm, Through all the pain, you kept me warm, From shattered glass to a brand new start, You fixed me up, you healed my heart. Memories of you, forever we'll stay, No more shadows, no more decay, With you by my side, I'm not afraid, I'm whole again, the pieces you saved. (Final High Note) Ahyeon (With soaring vocals): Now I stand, stronger than before, With the love you gave, I soar, The memories of you, the ones I cherish, You helped me bloom, when I thought I'd perish. (Outro) Ahyeon: Thank you for all that you’ve done, For being my light, for helping me run, You healed my broken heart, now it beats again, And with every note, I’ll sing your name, my friend.

Live Performance:

The music fades out as the stage lights shine brightly, the members standing together. Ahyeon steps forward, her breath heavy with emotion. The crowd is roaring, anticipating the end of the performance.

Ahyeon wipes a tear from her cheek, looking down for a moment before speaking to the microphone.

"I want to thank someone who's not here with us today. Y/n... you were always there when we had nothing. You helped us, gave us hope when the world didn't. You fixed me when I was broken... you made me whole. I... I love you. Always."

The crowd falls silent, confused at first, not sure who she is referring to. They look at each other, whispering. Ahyeon, sensing their confusion, continue.

"You see, Y/n was the one who cared for us when no one did. He was there for me when I was lost. When I couldn’t even recognize myself. He helped me find my pace, helped me believe in myself again. Without him, I wouldn’t be standing here today. He showed me what it means to love and be loved, even when I didn’t deserve it. I want him to be proud of me... of us... because we made it here together. And I’m smiling because of him."

As she finishes, tears well up in her eyes, and the rest of the members stand by her, supportive and proud.

The fans, though still unsure of the full story, can see the raw emotion in Ahyeon's eyes. They cheer, applauding the vulnerable moment, knowing it came from the deepest part of her heart. The music fades completely, and the lights go down, but Ahyeon stands there, looking out over the crowd, her heart finally at peace.

The song was more than just a performance—it was a message. A tribute to Y/n, and to the man who gave her a chance when no one else would. A chance to be herself. A chance to smile again.

"Memories of You" would forever be the song that marked the moment Ahyeon found herself—because of him.

Y/n's body lay still in the sterile, cold hospital room. The beeping of machines was the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. His face, once full of life, now looked pale and fragile, a stark contrast to the vibrant person he had been just days ago. Tubes filled his mouth, helping him breathe. His head was bandaged, wrapped tightly to cover the deep wound from the crash, a constant reminder of the violent impact that had left him in this state. His body seemed to be fighting for life, but no one could predict how long it would take—or if he would ever wake up at all.

The doctors had said he was in a comatose state, the trauma to his head severe enough to leave him unconscious, unsure of when or if he'd recover. There was no telling how long it would take for him to regain consciousness, if at all. Every second felt like an eternity, with no guarantee of the future.

Ahyeon had barely been able to process the news when the call came in. Her world had come crashing down as she rushed to the hospital with the other members, her thoughts swirling in a panic she couldn't control. She had to see him. She had to be with him. The thought of losing him—of not being able to thank him, to hold him, to let him know how much he meant to her—was unbearable.

As the girls entered the room, Ahyeon’s gaze immediately locked onto Y/n, lying there, unconscious. Her heart shattered in that instant, the weight of everything overwhelming her. She couldn’t breathe. Her knees gave way, and she dropped to the floor beside him, her hands trembling as she reached for him. The tears fell without warning, hot and fast, soaking her face as she whispered his name through broken sobs.

"Y/n... Please... Please come back to me."

The members stood behind her, their faces just as devastated. Ruka, Asa, Rami, and Chiquita could only watch helplessly as Ahyeon collapsed, her hands gripping the edge of Y/n's hospital bed, as though holding onto him might bring him back. They had always relied on him, had always felt his support, but now it felt like they were powerless, unable to do anything but watch and wait.

Ruka stepped forward first, her own tears streaming down her face as she knelt beside Ahyeon. She wrapped her arms around Ahyeon, pulling her into a comforting embrace, her own sorrow mirrored in every movement.

"Ahyeon, please, stay strong. Y/n would want you to. He’ll fight through this," Ruka said, her voice breaking as she spoke.

Asa joined in, crouching down and placing a hand on Ahyeon's shoulder. "He's going to be okay, Ahyeon. We just have to believe. He’s always been there for us. We need to be here for him now."

But Ahyeon, her face buried in her hands, couldn't stop the overwhelming flood of emotions. "I... I don’t know if I can do this without him," she choked out. "He’s everything... He fixed me when I was broken. He saved me, and now... now he’s lying here like this..."

Her sobs echoed in the room, and one by one, the members knelt beside her. They surrounded her with their warmth, their silent support, knowing there were no words to comfort the depths of her pain. All they could do was be there for her, just as Y/n had always been there for them.

The room was filled with their cries—soft whispers of hope, of desperation. No one could bear to leave him alone. Not when he had given them everything. Not when he had been their light, their strength. Now, in this moment of darkness, they needed to be his.

Ruka held Ahyeon tighter, feeling her heart shatter alongside her. "We’re here, Ahyeon. We’re here. We’ll wait with you. We’ll wait for him to come back."

As Ahyeon continued to sob, her heart aching in a way she had never known before, she thought of the last words she had spoken to Y/n. How she had thanked him, how she had told him she loved him. She only wished he could hear it now, that he could wake up and know that everything she had said had come from the deepest part of her soul. That he had healed her broken heart, given her hope when all she had known was despair.

But now, all she could do was wait.

"Please, Y/n," she whispered through her tears. "Come back to me. Please don't leave me."

And in that moment, despite the pain, despite the uncertainty, she felt a small flicker of hope. She knew that Y/n had always been a fighter. And if anyone could come back from this... it was him.

[sarahsangelicdoll]

⁀➴༯ The updated cupids enchantings … ꨄ

༉ A variety of the cupids enchantings with your beloved outer banks characters. These are all lovey dovey and will not have severe cw’s. Updated to make up for half of the og event being lost. The other’s will be rewritten whenever i get the motivation again. ༉

➴ ‘𝑜𝒽 𝓂𝓇 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒶𝓂 𝒾 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽?’

02/03/25 ᝰ JJ Maybank ( fluff )

in which mr cupid directs JJ to your house after a fight with his dad.

➴ Wedding Mess

02/08/25 ᝰ Rafe Cameron ( fluff )

You’re a mess the night before the two of you’s valentines wedding, but Rafe adores you all the same.

➴ Valentines date risk-taking

02/09/25 ᝰ Rafe Cameron ( smut )

Reader feels confident and risky, so why not give her boyfriend an under-the-table handjob while they eat at a cute old food bar?

➴ Picnic Dates

02/10/25 ᝰ JJ Maybank ( fluff )

JJ may not be able to take you out on big lavish dates, but he makes them memorable all the same.

➴ ‘𝑜𝒽 𝓂𝓇 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹, 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓅 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇’

02/11/25 ᝰ Pope Heyward ( smut )

in which mr cupid gave Pope some confidence and magical chocolates.

➴ ‘𝑜𝒽 𝓂𝓇 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹, 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒’

02/12/25 ᝰ Rafe Cameron ( smut )

in which mr cupid blessed you and Rafe with some private time to be completely honest with each other after you doubt the relationship.

➴ ‘𝑜𝒽 𝓂𝓇 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹, 𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉’

02/13/25 ᝰ John B. Routledge ( smut )

in which mr cupid blessed you both and you two will forever be grateful.

➴ Obx p links

02/14/25 ᝰ JJ Maybank, Rafe Cameron, Sarah Cameron, Topper Thorntorn

Porn links that will all lead to twitter.

༉ You can be added to a taglist for just all days or Rafe and JJ, as they have multiple stories. Please understand that this is to prevent things from being complicated. Hopefully everything with this event goes smoothly 😭 ༉

༉ taglist: @hvnlygrl (R&JJ) @tashiagalinda @littlxpxtal@starsval @rafestoothbrush @subconsciouscollapse @marleymarleymarleymarley @riaras-everthroner @atjlovverr

tagging muts: @hauntedfawnn @rafesdearest @v3n1ce-bxtch @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @moonlightrafe @winnie1emon @cherrygirlfriend

[bvidzsoo]

Every time I see you...chapter 2 ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Warning: smut ☆ Word count: 7k ☆ Rating: mature ☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, smut ☆ Summary: A surprise visit which was supposed to convey you and Mingi cooking dinner, soon turns into something else as you find yourself in his bed, underneath him. You've done this before, so it's not supposed to bring unwanted emotions with itself, especially not the next day when you're simply enjoying your morning while walking to work with Mingi.

☆ Visuals ☆

M.list ~ Previous Chapter

A/N: Sorry for the later update, I had a busy day, but I hope you have fun reading this chapter. If you've been following me for long enough, you might know that I don't like writing smut, however, when the plot calls for it, I will slip it in to my best capacities. The smut in this story isn't written for 'entertainment' purposes, but to show how deep their understanding of each other and intimacy goes, so keep that in mind if it isn't as mind blowing as a smut writer usually makes it be lmao. On that note, I hope you've checked out the Pinterest board I've created for the series, and if not, you should! It showcases the aesthetic of the story and even parts of the plot that will be happening soon enough. I'd also like to inform you that there won't be an update next week because I'll actually be in Denmark at this time to see Ateez (I'm still in disbelief I'll see them in a week lmao). I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I appreciate your feedback, so let me know what you think. If anyone wants to be tagged in this story, lmk! ^^ Enjoy now! divider

Taglist: @spicxbnny @hongjoongspoetry

🎧 Ⴘ𝜎𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝜎𝑤 𝘭 𝑤𝛼𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢, 𝘭 𝑤𝛼𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝛼ℎ / 𝘖ℎ 𝑛𝜎, 𝑦𝜎𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝜎𝜎 𝑐ℓ𝜎𝑠𝑒, 𝑃ℓ𝛼𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒹𝛼𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝜎𝑢𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝓂𝑒 / 𝑈ℎ, 𝑐𝜎𝓂𝓂𝑖𝑡𝓂𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝘭 𝒹𝜎𝑛’𝑡 ℎ𝛼𝘷𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝓂𝑒 / 𝛵𝑒ℓℓ 𝓂𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝘭 𝑔𝜎𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝜎𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒ℓ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 🎧

            The metal cart wasn’t even half as heavy now that I was shopping on my own, a lack of Mingi meant fewer expenses and less chocolate filling up the basked. I smiled to myself as I recalled one of the many instances of Mingi sneaking milk chocolate into the cart, acting as if I wouldn’t notice it at the self-checkout. He’d always bat his eyelashes at me and casually—at least he thought it looked like—put his hands in his pockets while slightly shuffling on his feet. Right, he thought playing nonchalant wouldn’t make it so obvious, but having known Mingi for a few years now, I could already tell when he was up to no good. And he was never up to any good in a store filled with candy. With a small shake of my head, I found myself heading down the candy aisle, looking for the sour gummies that disappeared within seconds around Mingi. His pantry was already filled with sweets and snacks, so I was sure his collection wasn’t lacking any sour gummies, but since I was already surprising him by stopping by, why not also gift him something sweet? There were only the essentials in my shopping cart: basil, parmesan, penne, and a small pack of cashews. The rest that was needed would be at Mingi’s place, thankfully he was a man who loved to cook, so his kitchen was better equipped than even mine at times.

I grabbed some marshmallows on the way to the self-checkout, wondering if I could convince Mingi to make me his famous hot chocolate as a little treat for surprising him with dinner tonight. Of course, the dinner wouldn’t come all served to his flat but get prepared there, not that Mingi had an issue with that. Early on in our friendship, we had learned that we both liked the quiet moments that we could share. Watching a movie after a long day while cosied up next to each other felt serene, reading in his bed on a rainy day brought contentment and comfort, and cooking in either his or my kitchen then brought a sense of belonging and joy that I haven’t found with anyone else. I had friends, quite plenty of them while at university, yet no one managed to bring out the calmness in me that came now naturally around Mingi. He was a one-of-a-kind person, and I could see it and feel it without anyone pointing it out to me. I nodded at the security guard as farewell once I was done checking out, the items for our dinner placed in my tote bag as I left the store. The evening was pleasant, not too cold nor warm, but wearing the thin cardigan before leaving the house was rather smart of me. I relinquished in the world that surrounded me as I walked towards Mingi’s apartment complex, head turning towards the playground as the kids screamed while chasing each other around.

There was something bittersweet in their naivety, and before it could sour my mood, I averted my gaze and focused on the headlights of the cars lighting up the streets, stronger than the old lampposts placed on the edge of the sidewalks. I liked living in a city that was big enough to allow one to feel invisible, it was easier to blend in rather than seek attention. I enjoyed meeting a stranger's gaze for a split second before we’d both never cross each other’s minds ever again, the other's face nothing but a blur on a crowded road. The green light blinked in warning as I reached the crosswalk, and I paused as it switched back to red, the previously stagnant cars now wheezing by the pedestrians. Standing too close to the edge never felt comfortable, so I left a few steps between myself and the edge of the sidewalk, watching as rowdy teenagers squeezed in front of me to be the first ones to cross. They were in a hurry based on their conversation, their movie would start in fifteen minutes and they were nowhere near close to the cinema. I smiled as I looked down at my shoes, the presence of other people surrounding me was something that I liked focusing on. I like the anonym life, but something was comforting in the thought that no matter how alone you might feel, there were always others around you, each person focused on their own issues and life…but they were there. You weren’t alone, even if you thought you had no one by your side. That’s another lesson I learned through my friendship with Mingi. Even in my darkest moments when I felt like the world was against me, Mingi would appear like the sun through a cloudy day and bring light into my life, proving to me that I was never really alone.

When I thought nobody would look out or care for me, Mingi managed to make himself seen like nobody else. Small gestures had always mattered to me, and Mingi was the type of person who noticed everything. He loved coming to your aid, helping you out if you were struggling, or even just being a silent supportive presence by your side. He fixed the wonky doorknob of my bedroom without me asking for it, sometimes I forgot to water my plants and I’d come home to Mingi showering them, or there were times when my wrists ached too much from having used them all day long so Mingi would wash the dishes wordlessly, and then there were the even smaller things like: opening doors for me, brushing my hair out of my face while we were eating, playing with my fingers if he noticed I was anxious, letting me borrow his jackets if I felt cold, allowing me to have the first bite of our dessert if we decided to share it, and so many more gestures that made him unforgettable. He was a genuine man, eager to give his affection to those eager to receive it. I didn’t deal well with emotions, letting them simmer until they bottled up and forced me to notice them. Mingi wasn’t like that, he was open about them and unafraid to voice his needs and complaints. Sometimes I admired him for his braveness, wishing to do better myself because I knew he deserved to have someone as genuine as him by his side.

The middle-aged married couple living across Mingi’s flat already knew me, their smiles were wide as they spotted me entering the building while they were leaving. I greeted them and answered when they asked about my day, wishing them a lovely date as they were headed out for the evening. Mingi lived on the third floor so I avoided taking the elevator, feeling stuffy and uncertain inside. I didn’t like the noises it made, nor the way it rattled before taking off. The building was old and the elevator was in of much-needed maintenance. The hallways were silent apart from the crying baby from the first floor, which could be heard even on Mingi’s floor. I suppose I would like to have kids at some point in the future, but I have never thought too deeply about it. It was a choice I would like to take with my future partner; besides, I enjoyed the quiet and slow life too much right now to feel ready to have a baby—let alone a serious relationship—right now. I knocked on Mingi’s front door, waiting patiently for him to come to the door. I knew he was home; he had texted me before he went to take a nap, his mind exhausted after the three courses he had during the day.

Another beat of silence passed before I heard the locks turning, the front door swinging open to reveal a shirtless Mingi. His dark hair was slightly damp and his cheeks were lightly flushed, the expanse of his chest able to catch anyone’s attention. His shoulders were wide and firm, his skin even tanner than usual since he had gone to the beach this summer. His biceps weren’t huge nor too eye-catching, but they flexed nicely with the slightest movement, never failing to grab my attention if he wore compressed tank tops or tees. His stomach wasn’t too ripped either nor too soft—more like somewhere in between—a trail of dark hair peeking through his sweatpants as my eyes trailed down. I’ve seen Mingi shirtless before—hell, I have seen him naked so many times that I couldn’t even count them on my hands anymore—but I never shied away from admiring his physique if he willingly put it on display. Surprise painted Mingi’s face when I finally looked back up, a small smile pulling at my lips.

“Look at you,” I chuckled, stepping through the threshold as Mingi slowly closed the door behind us, “You certainly know how to welcome your guests.”

Mingi snorted, rubbing the back of his head as I placed my tote bag on the ground before discarding my sneakers by the entrance.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone, to be honest,” He grabbed the tote bag off the floor for me, curiously peeking inside, “Did you bring food? Because I’m not complaining, then.”

I chuckled and grabbed his arm, stepping closer to lean into him. Mingi’s lips involuntarily pulled into a soft smile, eyes slowly blinking as he looked down at me, humming lowly. I didn’t have anything to say, I just liked to bask in the warmth of his body and the bodywash that I now associated with Mingi and only Mingi.

“I brought the ingredients,” I answered, leaning closer to press a chaste kiss against his collarbone, “The chefs are needed in the kitchen tonight.”

I took my bag from Mingi as he pressed a kiss against the side of my head before he started walking towards his bedroom, “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

I chuckled, then stepped into my slippers before scuffling over to the kitchen, swinging the bag in my hands as I walked to the aisle dividing Mingi’s chic kitchen from his living room. I placed the items I bought on the counter and allowed the tote bag to rest by the foot of the aisle, turning around to grab the pots out of the cupboard. I heard Mingi’s heavy footsteps approach as he grabbed his apron, tying it around his narrow waist. He stopped next to me and took the pot from my hands to fill it with water for the penne as I walked to the stove and turned it on. There was music faintly coming from Mingi’s bedroom, the door left wide open, and I wondered if it was the vinyl we had thrifted together. Mingi lived right by a busy street so the on-coming traffic usually filled his apartment, only quiet after midnight until the early morning hours. I walked to the window and opened it, pulling the curtain to the side so that the scent of the food wouldn’t fill the whole apartment.

“Oh, are we making Pesto tonight?” Mingi mused as he looked at the ingredients, going to retrieve the olive oil before he grabbed a bowl to mix the cheese in. He liked measuring everything beforehand and putting them in separate bowls so that it was clear how much he’d need to use, placing them in order of use as well. I walked back to his side and grabbed the grater, getting to work as I bit off a bit of the cheese before grating it. Mingi grabbed the small hand mixer to grind the cashew, his hip jutting out as he stood next to me, pressing into mine as I smiled, glancing at him from my peripheral. The mixer wasn’t too loud, so I didn’t wait for him to finish before I answered.

“Figured we could cook something quick and then read before bed?” I proposed lightly, turning my head as Mingi now grabbed the cheese I had grated, mixing it with the cashew and the spoonful of olive oil.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” His voice was deep as he hummed, grinding the rest of the ingredients together as I realised the basil needed some washing before we could use it. I opened the small casserole and walked to the sink, turning on the cold water as Mingi continued, “My professor and I settled on ethnology at last, but I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to focus on specifically. He gave me a book to look through and said it might help me find a solid direction.”

I smiled as I turned the faucet off, shaking the water off the basil, “That’s great, I’m glad he wants to help you out unlike that asshole you wrote your bachelor’s degree with.”

Mingi chuckled as I came to stand next to him again, placing the basil in the bowl so that he could grind the sauce together, “Yeah, he made me work my ass off, but it paid off in the end.”

“I know,” I smiled and leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek, “Your score was the highest out of everyone graduating that year. That was rather hot of you.”

“Yeah?” Mingi smirked, leaning his hip against the counter now that the sauce was done, the pasta was next, but the water was yet to start boiling.

“What can I say,” I shrugged, facing Mingi with an amused look on my face, “I like my men pretty and smart.”

He pointed at his face, widening his eyes so that he’d look even cuter, “Hilarious, that’s me. No wonder you’re into me.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Don’t let that huge ego of yours get to you now, I don’t like my men cocky.”

“No?” Mingi pouted, pushing off the counter to step closer, “Not even a little bit?”

I shook my head and he sighed heavily as if it was the end of the world, “Fine, I’ll stay humble and graduate three more colleges to make sure my academic hotness never dies.”

I laughed, shaking my head at Mingi’s absurd words, well aware that he could graduate that many more colleges if he wished to. Mingi was too smart for his own good, it was admirable. I was glad to somehow graduate from the one college I chose out of impulse, being lucky to find a job that not only had something to do with my degree but was also enjoyable.

“As long as you keep wearing your glasses, your academic hotness will never die.” Mingi raised his eyebrows as he stepped even closer, lazily pulling me into himself as his arms circled my waist.

“Really? That’s all I have to do?” He hummed before his eyebrows furrowed, “We’re back to the glasses talk and—wait, mom? Is that you?! I thought you wouldn’t call me today—”

I punched Mingi’s chest, throwing him a displeased look as he laughed, leaning down to kiss my lips but I turned my head to the side, feigning hurt. He huffed slowly, shaking his head in disappointment, “And my friends say I’m the drama queen.”

“You are quite dramatic, though,” I muttered as Mingi snickered, kissing my cheek before I could turn my head to face him again. He smiled softly as he raised his hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of my eyes, his fingers gently tracing my cheek before they curled around my jaw.

“I was raised like a princess, of course, I’m dramatic,” Mingi giggled, making me snort as I glanced towards the water. It was starting to boil, but it wasn’t quite there yet, “How was your day? Do your wrists hurt? Want a massage?”

“Today was thankfully quiet, I don’t think I would’ve survived a day like yesterday.” Client after client kept pouring in, and my boss and I didn’t get to have a lunch break at all as we were overloaded with commissions but also in-store orders, “I still have to mend a ring, but it’s not important. I thought I might do it tonight, but honestly, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Good,” Mingi hummed and leaned closer, making me raise my eyebrows at him, “because I’ve missed you, and I want to have you all to myself tonight.”

I laughed, trying to turn my head away once again when Mingi leaned in for a kiss, but his grip on my jaw tightened and held me in place. My eyes fluttered closed as Mingi’s lips met mine, warm and plump, soft yet more eager than before. His other hand slowly sneaked to my lower back and pulled me into his body, my arms going around his neck as I tilted my head for better access. Our lips moved languidly as Mingi slowly swayed us to the soft jazz music playing in the background, and I flinched when a car’s horn blared outside. We could both hear the water boiling now, but there was an insistence to Mingi’s wet lips that immobilised me as I breathed through my nose, head swirling with his familiar cologne. My fingers crumbled the collar of Mingi’s white tee as he bit my bottom lip, gently suckling on it before his tongue swiped over my bottom lip, asking for permission. I cupped his cheek and slightly pulled back, our breaths fanning each other’s faces as I gulped, not moving even an inch back.

“The pasta won’t be done if we continue.”

“I know, let’s hope the water doesn’t evaporate by the time we’re done.”

My chuckle was swallowed by Mingi’s lips finding mine again, a little more insistent, a little more desperate as I finally parted my lips, letting Mingi’s tongue past my teeth as he grabbed my waist and suddenly hoisted me up, my legs anchoring around his waist as Mingi held me in his arms, his tongue exploring my mouth as if it was our first time kissing. I loved kissing Mingi, it felt like he was always pouring something unspoken into it, something deep and meaningful. He didn’t have to bear his heart for me to understand, sometimes I could see it in his eyes, and other times I could feel it in the way he touched me. Even in our intimate moments, I felt like he had my back. He was as much in tune with his body as he was with mine, picking up on cues that indicated how comfortable or uncomfortable I felt by anything he did to me. My breath hitched in the back of my throat as our tongues glided against each other, slow and hot and making my heart race as Mingi hummed appreciatively in the back of his throat. I could feel his lips pull into a small smile, and I felt the sudden urge to cling to him harder, to squeeze his waist and sink my fingers into his smooth hair. There was something dormant in my chest that threatened to awaken in moments like this one, but I stopped it before it could ignite the whispers that would ruin everything.

I liked having Mingi like this, our friendship perhaps more than that, without the need to label it. It wasn’t necessary when we both knew we could reach out to the other, lay our heads in the other’s lap and just surrender. There was no trust without vulnerability, and sometimes I felt guilty for not being as transparent as Mingi was with me, but my heart would clench uncomfortably at the thought and I’d have the sudden urge to cry. Our lips moved more insistently as Mingi started walking, leaving the kitchen with slow steps, being careful so his feet wouldn’t get tangled in anything that would make him drop me. The jazz music became louder as we neared Mingi’s bedroom, and my lungs felt on fire as I cupped Mingi’s cheeks, mouth pressing against his with yearning. He pulled back gently when we reached the foot of his bed, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead before he kneeled on the mattress and slowly lowered me on it, untying his apron before getting settled between my legs. My lips were slightly swollen as I reached a hand out to trace Mingi’s lips, having always found them pretty. Mingi’s eyes closed as I gently traced his jawline and then sharp cheekbones, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him down into another searing kiss.

It didn’t last for long as Mingi gently pulled back, caressing my hair as he peppered kisses all over my face, but then his warm and wet lips found my neck as he gently nipped at my heated skin, muttering intangible words into it as I played with his hair, my heart racing in my chest. His kisses continued, going lower, bunching up my t-shirt as he mouthed at my stomach, licking it where he knew I was ticklish until I was pushing his head away with a small glare, making him smirk amused. But his lips were back on my body as he unbuttoned my jeans, pressing gentle kisses against my hipbones before he dwelled lower, hot breath hitting my clothed core. I gulped, face heating up as he closed his eyes and nosed at the damp fabric for a second, kissing the inside of my thigh before my panties were off my legs together with my jeans, Mingi’s head lost between my legs. My mouth opened and my eyes closed as I fisted the comforter, one hand tangling in Mingi’s hair as his tongue licked between my folds, nose hitting my clit. The breath hitched in my throat and my mouth fell open as he moved slowly with purpose, already familiar with every tick of my body.

Being with Mingi was always so easy, there was no need to fill the silence for it was never awkward or empty. He seemed to have an ability to read your mind and thus knew how to cater to your likes, he just knew how to please you instinctually. It was peculiar, he was unlike anyone I have ever known, he made life seem easier, coating it in childish joy. I gasped when he prodded at my clit, my hole clenching around nothing until one ring-clad finger suddenly filled it, making my fingers grip his hair tightly. Mingi hummed, I could feel his eyes on my face as I tried to stiffen a moan, mindful of his neighbours, but the suddenly fast pace of his finger and the agonisingly slow flick of his tongue made my stomach clench as my eyes flew open, finding Mingi’s as I moaned loudly. I should’ve expected the smirk crossing his face as he continued doing that, his name falling off my lips in a rush, fingers pulling painfully at his roots.

“Stop it,” I whispered, eyes shaking as Mingi added a second finger, my hips wishing to kick off the mattress but Mingi held me down by my hips before I could do so, “More, please.”

Mingi hummed again, his two fingers plunging deeper and curling as my mouth fell open in a breathy moan, toes curling as he leaned forward to kiss my navel, lips hovering over the tattoo on my right hipbone, nipping at the skin before he slowly kissed up my body, fingers never once stopping, but alleviating in pace. I was panting by the time our lips found each other again and Mingi’s breath stuttered when I grabbed him through his sweatpants, his dick heavy and hard as I squeezed it, making Mingi groan as he ground down into my hand. Before I could reach inside his sweatpants, however, he pulled away just as I could feel the tension slowly build up in my lower stomach, my eyes wide as I watched him stand. I quickly pulled my t-shirt over my head as Mingi got rid of his clothes too, standing by the end of the bed in his naked glory. He was a gorgeous man, making you wish you could gaze at him forever and more. He grabbed a condom out of the nightstand before coming back to kneel between my legs, a small smile on his lips as he rolled it on, kissing between my breasts as he aligned himself, looking down between our bodies. I knew what was coming, we’ve done this plenty of times before, yet the careful and slow way he eased himself inside never failed to push a moan out of me, my body feeling like it was made of glass with how gently Mingi handled it.

It was moments like this one that I could completely unravel, to let go of all the fears and doubts that plagued my mind, because in Mingi’s arms, I knew I could be vulnerable and he wouldn’t use it against me. My eyes fluttered close as Mingi caged me between his body and the mattress, his dick stretching me out much like always, I needed a second to adjust to it once he bottomed out. He smiled, grabbing my jaw to press a kiss against my lips as I hummed, arms going around his torso to hug him close to myself as my legs locked around his hips, making sure there was no gap between our bodies. I liked feeling him on top of me, his weight like a blanket of security, something that would lock me into the present and not let my mind wander to all the what-ifs. Mingi moved, slowly and teasingly almost as he pulled halfway out before easing back in, enjoying the way my face contorted in pleasure. I knew he couldn’t keep this pace up for long because his own needs would catch up with him, and as I raised my head to whisper his name in his ear, something finally snapped in him as he shuddered, hips picking up their movement as he pulled out almost all the way, pushing back in almost as if he was in a rush.

I moaned, head falling back as I tried to meet his thrusts halfway, his hot breath fanning over my mouth making me latch onto his jaw, sucking his skin as Mingi pushed himself up just a little bit, bracing himself above my head as he dragged his hips faster, his mouth open as he looked down at me, our eyes meeting. My whole body burned as the pressure was slowly building back up, his length reaching places only Mingi could, my mouth was dry as I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep it down. But one large hand grabbed my breast as Mingi’s fingers played with my nipple and my back arched into his touch, eyebrows furrowing as a new wave of pleasure rushed through my body.

“Go faster, please.” I breathed out as Mingi grunted, his hair falling into his sharp eyes as he started pistoning his hips, my mouth falling open as I clung to him, nails digging into his back. Mingi’s chest heaved as low grumbles tumbled past his lips, eyebrows furrowing as his grip turned just a bit painful on my breast, pain and pleasure have always been a fine line with Mingi.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Mingi muttered more to himself, his face contorting in pleasure as he grabbed my left knee and pushed my leg towards my chest, making me gasp as he reached deeper, brushing against my sweet spot. Mingi felt the way my body locked up for a second, eyes widening, and he wasted no second plunging in against the same spot again and again, his grunts now a melody of their own as they amalgamated with my keens and the jazz music. My hand gripped Mingi’s bicep, nails leaving dents in his gorgeous body for everyone to see, and I looked at Mingi to find him already gazing at me, “I’m so close.”

I gulped around nothing, my throat dry as I nodded wordlessly, reaching down to rub my clit as my ears started ringing, the chord so tight in my abdomen that it was close to snapping anytime, “Don’t stop, Mingi.”

Mingi moaned after a harder snap of his hips, the slapping of skin louder than the vinyl that was playing, my moans were almost a mantra as I pulled Mingi down to silence them, our kiss messy as my body locked up with finality. Mingi’s name was just a whisper on my lips as the tightness finally snapped, an electric-like feeling filling my body as my skin was covered in goosebumps. Mingi gasped before his hips stuttered, losing their steady rhythm as he slammed back in a few more times, coming to a standstill once his orgasm was over too. Our chests rose and fell rapidly as Mingi’s eyes closed, his head hanging low as I stared up at the ceiling, my fingertips gently rubbing the dents my nails had left in his bicep. He leaned down and I looked at him, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead before he could kiss my lips and he froze, his eyes fluttering open. I gave him a small smile as he chuckled, pulling out and then getting off me, my body still buzzing as I lay on top of Mingi’s bed, watching him tie the condom off before throwing it away. He then pulled the needle off the record player, silence filling the room.

“We should really cook that pasta now.” Mingi’s voice was lower, his expression serene and his eyes void of worries as I chuckled, pushing up onto my elbows.

“I don’t want to get up just yet.” I pouted, kicking my legs slightly as Mingi chuckled, leaning down to grab his white tee. He threw it in my face before he slipped on his sweatpants, and then headed for the door.

“Stay in bed then, I’ll be back in two minutes.” I hummed as I watched him go back to the kitchen to take care of the boiling water and pasta, then pulled his white tee on before I got off the bed to pull the comforter back. Just as I was about to get in, Mingi came in like a bulldozer, arms around my torso as he made us fall into the bed, giggling while I struggled to breathe as he now lay on top of me.

“Get off, you’re heavy!” I screeched as I tried to crawl out from underneath him, and Mingi obliged after he swiftly kissed my nape, snuggling in behind me as I pulled the comforter over our bodies.

“Five minutes and then we go have dinner.” Mingi mumbled into my skin as his hand landed on my naked thigh, lightly tracing my skin, “How about we skip reading tonight? I’m sleepy.”

I smiled, turning slightly to look back at him, “You can go to sleep, I want to read a bit.”

“Sure.” Mingi smiled and kissed my shoulder before he buried his head between my scapulas, letting out a long sigh as silence wrapped around us. For a split second, my control over my treacherous heart slipped and the whispers reached my ears, saying that I craved Mingi like I craved water or food, that I needed Mingi by my side like I needed oxygen to survive. I gulped, eyebrows slightly furrowing as I realised my heart was still racing, but it wasn’t in excitement, it was due to the deeply buried anxiety that told me Mingi’s affection wasn’t as pure as I liked to believe it was.

            There was something dull about this morning, something that made life feel simpler than it was. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, the sky a light shade of grey as the air was chillier than the night before. It was increasingly obvious that the summer was over, and the ominous autumn days were now taking over the once sunny days. And despite that, the song of the birds carried above our heads like an echo, a beautiful and calming sound as our path took us through a lush green park, mostly empty at this hour except for the runners and the dog owners who followed after their pets. The fingers of my right hand were slightly chilly as they firmly held onto Mingi’s hand, our arms swinging between our bodies as we walked at a leisurely pace, not in a rush yet. The bus ride was swift since we went down to the bus stop just in time, so, we had some time to pass until the jewellery store opened. Despite the grey hoodie hugging around my body that Mingi had lent me, I shivered, and he cast a curious glance down at me. I looked up at him with a soft smile, raising one eyebrow as Mingi shrugged, putting our intertwined hands into the pocket of his bomber jacket.

“It’s chilly, isn’t it?” Mingi mused, his lips pursed as he looked straight ahead once again.

“Yes, and it’ll only get worse.” I sighed, already dreading the cold winter days that would come in just two months. Mingi hummed, bumping his shoulder against mine as he walked closer, almost as if he wished to share his never-ending body heat with me. He was like a furnace at times, a complete saviour during the cold, snowy, winter days when I could bury myself in his side and bask in his warmth. I felt my cheeks heat all of a sudden as I turned my head away, hoping that my hair would frame my face and hide it from Mingi’s knowing eyes. It made no sense that I’d become a blushing mess all of a sudden, Mingi has been doing these things forever. It was nothing new that we held hands while walking, nor the fact that I wore his clothes, or that he warmed our hands by putting them in his pocket. And yet, it felt different. A choking-like emotion tried to crawl up my throat as I sighed, trying to shake my thoughts away before they could sour my mood.

“I like the rusty-coloured leaves in the autumn, no matter how cold it is,” Mingi spoke up as we left the park, back on the busy main street. Life seemed more hectic here, people brushing past each other as the traffic lights flickered from green to red every other minute, only complicating the already raging traffic, “The café gets cosier too, everyone wants hot chocolate all of a sudden, or pumpkin-spiced latte. My boss also buys a lot of cinnamon and orange-scented candles around this time, so it’s always a fun time walking inside the shop, wondering whether the scent of coffee or the candles will hit me first.”

“Our store always smells of incense, blue sage mostly or white musk since these two seem to have cleansing properties…at least that’s what my boss believes.” I shrugged as Mingi smiled, bumping his shoulder into mine again and making me tumble slightly to the side. I scoffed and narrowed my eyes at him as I gently jabbed his side with my elbow, making him snort under his breath as we turned right, walking away from the busy and loud street.

“Your store always feels so fresh and welcoming, those incense sticks are certainly doing their jobs then.” I hummed in thought, never really having paid attention to that. But Mingi must be right since I’m already used to my boss's shenanigans and the store’s customs. The store was now in sight and I glanced down at my wristwatch, realising we were fifteen minutes early, but the lights were already on inside the store. My boss would sometimes come in earlier to finish the previous day’s commissions, “By the way, about our getaway.”

“What about it?” I asked as we stopped at the crosswalk, looking at both sides of the road before crossing it. A lone car cruised down the street, its engine silent as I watched it go by.

“I found a homey lodge by the edge of the forest not even two hours away, what do you think?” Mingi asked, fishing for his phone as my eyebrows furrowed.

“That sounds like the setting of a horrible but successful horror movie, don’t you think?” Mingi laughed and turned his phone for me to look at. Well, the lodge was small and downright gorgeous as Mingi swiped through the pictures, the two of us had stopped on the sidewalk to make sure we didn’t walk into anything or anyone. The wood panels were a light maroon, and the lodge seemed to have a well-equipped kitchen, a small living and dining area, a spacious but cosy bedroom, and a rather modern-looking bathroom. The price on the posting didn’t seem too bad, so I nodded my head in agreement, “Okay, I like this place.”

“Right? It’s so beautiful.” Mingi sighed dreamily, putting his phone away, “Looks so relaxing and just…quiet. I don’t know why I have this sudden urge to go away for a few days, but it’s getting worse and worse as days go by.”

I hummed, squeezing his hand encouragingly. I knew Mingi could get overwhelmed easily, often losing himself in his workload, letting stress bring him down until he caught the flu and would be bedridden for a week. I couldn’t let that happen again, so, going away for a mini-holiday seemed like a very smart choice for the two of us at the moment.

“Your master’s is getting to you, Mingi, and it’s okay. You’re stressed about finding a good subject, and you’re also taking on more shifts than necessary at the café.” Mingi pouted, hanging his head low as he adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, “Do you think we could go in two weeks? Or is it too sudden?”

“No, that actually sounds lovely,” Mingi quickly said as we came to a stop in front of the store. He faced me and grabbed my other hand as well, intertwining our fingers. His rings were colder than his hands as they dug into my skin, and I found myself thumbing at one of them. His rings were always pretty, much like Mingi, they fit with his character well. They were mostly silver and chunky, but not to the point it was distasteful.

“Good, then book the lodge for us.” Mingi’s smile was instant, stretching from one ear to another, his nose scrunching and his eyes becoming smaller as I found my heart racing uncontrollably once again. His crooked front teeth made him even more endearing and I gulped, wanting to reach out and trace his lips gently with my fingertips. I felt like I could stare at his face—at his smile—forever as Mingi’s body basically vibrated with joy, excited to get away for a few days. I chuckled and ignored my growing anxiety, opting to squeeze his hands as I raised his left hand to press a quick kiss against his knuckles. Mingi’s smile softened, his eyes glinting in the morning light, and I felt unable to look at him any longer as we let go of each other’s hands.

“Have an easy shift, I’ll text you later.”

“Thank you, rest your eyes in between reading.”

Mingi winked, turning on his heels and walking back down the way we had come, headed back to his flat. I let my eyes follow his retreating form, chuckling when he abruptly spun around to wave at me with a smug smile. I shook my head and walked inside the store, glad that I was out of the morning’s coldness. It had felt rejuvenating, but now that my teeth chattered, I was even more glad to be inside a warm place, with heavy incense burning away in the corner to freshen up the air. I walked to the backdoor and knocked on it before entering, finding my boss buried deep in her work, twisting intricate models into the necklace she was crocheting.

“Good morning,” I greeted her as I placed my tote bag on the floor and pulled the sleeves of the hoodie lower to hide my arms, trying to bury myself fully underneath it. My boss glanced up with a small smile before she looked back down at her craft, eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated on her task.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” I blushed so suddenly that I was stunned for a second, needing to gulp a few times as I chuckled, averting my eyes when my boss looked at me questioningly.

“Yes, of course, and you?” She gave me a knowing look before she shrugged, tying off a knot.

“The full moon’s getting closer so I struggle falling asleep, but I’m well rested thankfully.” I hummed, grabbing a hair tie to tie my hair back, then grabbed a stool to sit down next to her. There was another unfinished bracelet sitting to the side, perhaps I could help my boss out before we opened up the store, “I like your hoodie, I haven’t seen it on you before. Is it new?”

I bit my bottom lip as I shrugged, looking down at the fabric as I picked at the sleeves of it, suddenly very aware of the fact that not only the hoodie smelled like Mingi, but the rest of my clothes and hair as well. I hoped my boss couldn’t smell it as I sniffed at the collar of the hoodie, trying to stop myself from blushing when I realised everyone could tell I was wearing a man’s clothing. It didn’t feel too appalling to smell like Mingi, to wear his clothes and have others see it, the realisation wasn’t nearly as disheartening as I would’ve first assumed. Not that it felt empowering wearing a man’s hoodie, nor did I do it because I wanted the world to know that I had someone…because I didn’t. I was content on my own, sharing my space and time with a man who had the same life values as me, and respected me as much as I respected him. I hummed to myself, grabbing the emerald-coloured bracelet as I concluded that wearing Mingi’s clothes felt right, and not because I wanted the world to know I wasn’t alone, but because I knew it belonged to a person like Mingi.

>> next chapter

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[jackoshadows]

Oh look, an entire 'analysis' based on false and racist, sexist fanon interpolated from characters who bully Arya as ugly because she looks different to them that will now get reblogged by the casual fans with the wrong canon that Arya is 'ugly'. This is how fanon gets formed and widespread.

In old stories, especially those that feature morality and ethics, so often the "good" characters are beautiful, while the "evil" ones are ugly.

This is especially funny because this is a fandom where a canonically selfish, classist, patriarchal, pro-status quo bully like Sansa is seen as 'good', the champion of the poor, the most compassionate character with the most empathy, the 'embodiment of hope for the future' because she is classically beautiful, fits into Eurocentric beauty standards and represents white female fragility and the canonically white Arya is headcanoned as poc because they see her as ugly, violent, impulsive, stupid, tribal, barbaric, savage, uncouth, unicivilized and unfit to have a family and love.

What you are writing here is the exact opposite of what is happening. Where, it is not the author, but the fandom that is headcanoning a canonically pretty, white girl as ugly and poc because they see her as violent and uncouth.

Where a nine year old, skinny little girl is masculinized, her femininity stripped and she is always headcanoned as bigger and being an executioner and body guard for her older, bigger sister in popular fanart. Notice also that both characters are white, but Arya is always drawn in darker shades. Again, this goes back to that concept of white female fragility which is rooted in white supremacy where a woc cannot be envisioned as vulnerable or worth protecting.

And the most mind boggling fact is that Arya is white!! But because the racist/sexist fandom want to project all their white femininity onto Sansa, this means for them, Arya has to be masculine, ugly, violent and poc.

Just looking through OP's tags for example, this is some art of how they envision Sansa in their mind:

This is one of the Arya fanart they reblogged:

Notice the difference between the so called beautiful and ugly characters for the OP? I did look back a bit of on tags could not find any art of dark skinned Sansa by herself like the Arya art above.

Like this is stuff one sees in the fandom:

Another blogger who thinks Arya is ugly and Sansa is beautiful reblogs art like this of both characters - remember both characters are canonically white in the books...

Notice the difference?

Humans unfortunately have had a long history of unconsciously assuming positive traits (intelligence, kindness, generosity, talent) of people with high levels of personal attractiveness (PA), while also assuming negative traits (low intelligence, laziness, aggression, cruelty) to those with lower PA, without any evidence of the individual's personality, traits, thoughts, beliefs, habits.

The way this applies exactly to the racism and sexism of this fandom and how they treat the characters of Sansa and Arya is amazing and and that's what's funny about your entire post. Like, this gets to the heart of all this and yet it's the complete opposite of what you are implying.

This is why despite Arya being more intelligent that Sansa, more political then Sansa, more compassionate than Sansa, having more empathy than Sansa, being the victim of bullying from her sister Sansa, despite standing up for the powerless, despite all this, the character of Arya is constantly put down as a sociopath, violent, impulsive and stupid, while Sansa is seen as the compassionate Mother Theresa, the smart politician, the only girl who can be 'Lady of Winterfell' because she's the right kind of woman.

And this is why Arya is contantly headcanoned as ugly - despite the text making it clear that she is not!! There are several characters who call Arya pretty. Are they wrong? Are the bullies right?

You mention Brienne. This is a canonically 'ugly' character who is the embodiment of GOOD. She is exactly what you are talking about. The author goes into great detail about how ugly she is. NOTE: HE DOES NOT DO THIS WITH ARYA BECAUSE ARYA IS NOT CANONICALLY UGLY. The author even has a romance arc with Brienne who is ugly on the outside and beautiful on the inside and Jaime who is beautiful on the outside and ugly on the inside, his take on beauty and the beast. This is his inversion of the traditional fairy tale tropes.

But why is Arya being grouped into this, when she has an entirely different exploration - The Ugly Duckling - of looking different, about being non-conforming, of not fitting in amongst the Tully looking Starks as opposed to the Stark looking Starks.

'LYANNA WAS BEAUTIFUL' 'SO ARE YOU'

This is right there in the text!! Again, why is this being ignored in favor of what two bullies are mocking a little girl for? Are bullies right?

How does this relate to OP's assertion? It supports it. Martin's choice to write both Arya and Brienne as physically plain at best was a deliberate choice.

Except this nine year old is not old enough or taken care of her appearance enough for us to know whether she is plain or not. We know this of the 17 year old Brienne - and the themes you mentioned are explicitly explored with her in terms of good and evil being connected to a character's looks.

And Tyriongirl should know as a Tyrion girl that if Martin wants the readers to know a character is ugly he will make that damn clear by mentioning every other page how ugly the character is which he does with Tyrion. Never with Arya.

This creates a disconnect because we are so conditioned to expect our protags to be attractive on top of everything else, that it's difficult to mentally picture them as anything but.

EXACTLY! Conditioning on top of the racism and sexism, means that white tradfems who see Sansa as the embodiment of white femininity expect Arya to be ugly, brown, primitive and violent.

And this is what is happening and this is why there is a backlash everytime there are posts like this primarily from Sansa fans about how Arya is ugly and how that should be accepted for ugly representation when Arya is canonically not ugly and there is already an amazing, great character in Brienne for ugly representation.

But the the 'ugly' discourse has never been about representation or even Arya as a character. It's always Sansa fans digging this up because they need Sansa to be special and unique and feminine and blue eyed and beautiful and romantic and lady like and they don't want Arya to encroach on all that ever.

Here's a question. Why is Jon never at the center of ugly discourse given he is older, supposedly plain looking and has the Stark look just like Arya. He and Arya look so much alike. Sansa who thinks Arya is ugly also calls out Jon Snow for his looks and her classism is on display when she thinks they are both ugly because they are bastards.

Where are all the 'Why is Jon drawn so handsome when he is ugly in the books' arguments and discourse? Why are you not writing your 'fairy tale' analysis for Jon Snow and good and bad and beautiful and ugly?

I will give you a clue - because it's never about ugly representation and instead a desire by Sansa fans who need Arya to be ugly because the bully should always be right.

It's an internalized prejudice for sure, but one that has been reinforced so many times through most every story, book, movie, TV, anime, etc. that we consume that it's difficult to shift the mental paradigm. It's not an excuse, but it's an explanation.

It's definitely an internalized prejudice for sure, one full of misogyny and racism. And posts like this that disingenuously interpret what is actually happening does not help at all in challenging these age old stereotypes of beauty, race and sex.

People are truly so afraid of liking ugly characters. you see it all the time with Arya specifically, but also targs who all have to be The Prettiest. Rhaenyra femininity discourse comes to mind (and of course there's a lot to say there about equating beauty with femininity / gender conforming but that's a whole other thing). Arya is definitely the most egregious example though. Like, so many of her fans feel compelled to find whatever evidence they can (or can make up) that Actually she's extremely pretty or will be extremely pretty or pretty by the north standards or pretty by our real world standards or whatever, and I truly think that they just can't conceive of liking a character who's not pretty, or worse, ugly. Some of it is equating beauty with goodness (which is wild, especially when it comes to asoiaf as and its themes as a series) and some of it is just... they can't like a character who's ugly. I don't know if it's a self insert thing, a patriarchal thing, a misogyny / internalized misogyny thing or what. So when you say Arya is not pretty, or 'worse', ugly, they take it as an insult to her worth in-story and to her worth as a character, as if not being pretty means she's not written well

Disney fairytale mindset fr

[dehlizalah]

Phantom Touch

namgyu x f!reader

𖦹 tags: slow burn, angst, toxic relationship, fwb, alcohol, mentions of drugs, situationship, slight smut

𖦹 word count: 1790

𖦹 recommended song! : Love me Not

𖦹 This is part 2 of the headcannons ! Part one | I decided to make it a full story :p namgyu is a little insuffurable in this one + i will post part 3 as soon as im done with it ! tysm for all the support recently

You yawned sluggishly, adjusting your eyes to the surroundings. You were there again. Surrounded by the four walls of salaciousness, you had once promised yourself that you’d never visit ever again. Like a fool, you were once again met with the same pair of impenetrable eyes, staring at you from his disordered desk. You knew he was going to pull the same shit as he always does, making you shout degrading, disgusting remarks in bed as he touches you all over, wetly kissing you from top to bottom the night before, then acts as if he had never even slept in the same bed with you the morning after.

“You’re up,” Namgyu murmurs under his breath, scrolling through his phone as he combs his hair with his long fingers.

“Yep,” a dry response comes out from you as you slowly get up to stand.

Namgyu notices the dull response you gave him. Usually, when you wake up, you try to be as loving and nice as humanly possible to someone who uses you as nothing less than a toy, another collection in his box. He knew that you loved him, he knew the sense of yearn that you get from him when he’s away, and he strangely enjoys it.

As quietly as possible, you scurry to find your clothes from the night before. Once found, you throw Namgyu’s t-shirt off, which still had the smell of cheap musky men’s fragrance mixed with the smell of cigarettes. You hated how he had such a distinctive smell; it wasn’t even that good, but something about it kept you coming back. This time you promised yourself you would not fall victim to that scent again. Never again.

As you get changed, you don’t dare to look his way. Acting as indifferent as he always does. No hopeful glances, no lingering touches. Just quiet sounds of clothes ruffling.

Namgyu sets his eyes on you, pulling them away from his phone.

“You’re quiet today,” he says, his tone not quite caring, but the irritation was obvious. You ignoring him got under his skin.

No response. He was not going to get a response from you. Why bother with the small talk when this was going to be the last time you two talked anyway?

Namgyu’s fingers become agitated, wrapping them around his phone; he doesn’t say anything anymore. He probably expected you to come to him with pleading eyes once again; maybe he wanted to play this game again. But you were done. You were done with being stuck on the same level, never progressing.

“You’re really going to leave, just like that?” He abruptly calls out.

Your brain pauses, causing a whole body to stop; your fingers lingered over the doorknob. You took the last piece of courage left in you, turned the doorknob, and stepped outside, letting the door click shut. Is this what solidarity feels like?

For the first time, you leave without the lingering thought of returning

The breeze outside feels like it’s cutting against your soft, once-touched skin; the breeze doesn’t care whether you get hurt or not, similar to him. You shiver, but not just from the cold, from the dying thought of what once was a stupid romance. Was what you had with him even romance? You felt stupid for falling in love with someone who would never be able to reciprocate that love. You gave everything to him, knowing he wouldn’t give it back. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you pressured him so much to the point he couldn’t stand you, to the point of no return.

It’s almost pathetic, how these roads leading to your house have become so familiar, you could memorize the cracks in the brick. The one streetlight that flickers no matter the time of day, the same quiet ache that controls your body every time you leave. This time it was different; Namgyu had gotten the signal, loud and clear. You were not going to come back.

Sometimes you would find yourself fantasizing about what you and Namgyu could have. Cute little dates on the beach as you both ran holding hands, with the cool breeze hitting your faces. Cooking together in his tiny kitchen, dying of laughter as he playfully smeared flour on your nose. It was stupid, but you found comfort in imagining such things. It was so indifferent from what you were used to. Lustful touching, as he tells you he loves your body, but never you. You wonder if he ever thought of you as anything but another distraction, nothing but another warm body on his bed.

You got back from your apartment and deliberately plopped yourself onto your bed, sighing. It hadn’t even been an hour since you last saw him and you already had the feeling of loss in the back of your brain. You try and avoid the thought of him, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. It felt like you couldn’t escape him. In your photos, dumb pictures from nights out you took together, high on god knows what. On your instagram, his messages were at the top. No matter how much you tried to ignore the existence of him, he was always there, wondering in the back of your mind. You carelessly chucked your phone to the end of the bed, coving yourself with your sheets.

It had been a week since you decided to cut ties with Namgyu. A whole week of insufferable silence. You practically self-isolated yourself from the rest of the world for a whole week, crying into your pillow and being unable to even get up to eat. Why did you feel so much emotion for a jerk? Was it the scent you craved, you wanted it to control your whole body? Or was it the look on his face when he sees you at the club, while he’s working? Maybe it was the way he treated you the morning after, like a scab that you couldn’t stop picking because for a moment, it gave you a sense of relief.

You had gotten a text from one of your close friends, telling you that she’s forcing you to come out with her tonight, no ifs, nor buts. You knew she wasn’t going to let you rot away in your bed, so you got up and took a long awaited shower, before putting in your makeup. A dark smokey eye look which made your eyes pop and juicy lips which looked practically edible. You looked good. A dark skirt with a black short corset - like top, and a black leather jacket with knee high boots. You tried to put some effort into this outfit, you needed a distraction, some relief.

Grabbing your bag, you put your phone, lipgloss and a pack of cigarettes, you mind wonders over to someone who you once knew, who always stank of cigarettes. You shake it off pushing yourself out the door.

Vibrations of bass drowns the city, so many clubs and bars to visit. You let your friend take the reign and choose where to go. Club Pengagon. Did she do this on purpose? She knows that he works here. You try to wrestle out of your friend’s interlocked arm, but she drags you in, now being surrounded by bodies moving in sync with the stereotypical club music. “Why the fuck did you choose here?” You blurt out.

“Girl… to get over it you have to face it head on.”

What a fucking bitch. She knows what he did to you, but here you are, stuck in the same club he works at, sandwiched in between drunken nobodies. You can only pray that he doesn’t have a shift today. You sit in the opposite corner from the vip rooms, hoping that if he was here, he’d be too busy at the other side of the club.

You watch your friend dance around without a care in the word, you could only dream of being that careless. You needed to be distracted. She comes over to you, saying something about joining her. You sigh as you down the rest of your drink, the liquor slowly burning your throat. “i’ll be there soon.” That was a lie. Dancing in clubs is not your style, but she would definitely forget about it.

'You look like you could use another drink.' A random figure peers over your shoulder. You look over your shoulder to see a man, about 6’3”, nice looking. Great. A good distraction, perfect actually. You give them a friendly smile, signaling them to sit down. He passes you another shot, no clue what it is, nor do you really care. You just need him out of your mind. You eagerly down the shot, clenching your hand in between your thighs, a sigh of relief comes out of your mouth.

You decide to entertain the conversation, if you blankly ignored the man that would be rude right? The man leans in closer to you; and confidently whispers “So.. what’s your name?”

You giggle, “Does it matter?” You notice his hands move over your knees, rubbing them as he stealthily moves his hands up. You bite your lip in slight embarrassment, but it was nice to have someone touch you again. You lean your head into his neck and smile, maybe this was the alcohol signalizing something, but it didn’t really matter, the guy was into it and you had reached the point of no return.

You can feel a pair of eyes on you.

You feel that addicting rush of adrenaline again. You feel that disgusting gawk that made you feel icky but also compulsive gaze. Even through the haze of alcohol and the dim, flashing lights, you felt it- heavy, unwavering, burning into your skin like a phantom touch. It wasn't just a glance; it was possession, quiet but undeniable.

The strangers warm hands traced you legs, moving up to your chest. His warm, alcohol breath surrounded your ears. So much warmth, yet you still felt cold, vulnerable.

Your breath hitched, although it wasn’t because of the random man you met 20 minutes ago, it was the man that felt like a drug, - dangerous, never risk free, addictive and impossible to quit.

Namgyu.

His presence clung to you like smoke, suffocating every muscle in your body. The loud music was drowned away, this feeling was too strong, too intimate.

You shouldn’t care that he is here, it is inevitable right? Plus, you are not dealing with whatever namgyu was anymore. This is a new world for you.

You were supposed to be free, You were supposed to be done with that part of your life.

So why did it feel like your feet only knew how to guide themself in his direction?

I hope this is okay :shy: More interactions w/ namgyu will be next, i wanted this chap to be a build up

[selfloverrrrrr]

hey bae , this is my first time making a req 😭🙏🏻 , so i was thinking about where y/n is a prisoner sent to an all male prison and geto/gojo is the chief security guard who works there. he is very attracted to y/n and at night he goes non con y/n

i love your fanfic btw ❤️

Prisoner~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, Noncon, revenge, prisoner reader, chief secretary guard Gojo, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

This shitty people can't even investigate a case properly. First they put me in for the time crime I never did and now they're moving me to another jail?! The iron gates of Blackwood Prison creaked shut behind me, I found myself enveloped in a world dominated by rough faces and even rougher hands. I was the only woman among hundreds of convicts, a fact that made me stand out like a sore thumb.

The first few days were a blur of harsh fluorescent lights, cold meals, and the constant hum of male voices echoing through the concrete hallways. I kept my head down, learning the routines quickly - lights out at 10 PM sharp, wake-up call at 6 AM.

One evening, during dinner in the massive cafeteria, I felt eyes burning into my back. I turned slightly to see one of the guards standing against the wall. His name tag said 'Gojo'. He was tall, muscular, with an aura that demanded attention. His blue eyes seemed to follow my every movement.

As the days wore on, I started noticing Gojo everywhere. He seemed assigned to my wing more frequently than the other guards. Each time our paths crossed, his gaze lingered, a flicker of something - admiration? - passing through his steely expression before he quickly looked away.

One crisp autumn night, as the prison settled into uneasy quiet, I lay on my narrow bunk, straining to hear the faint scrape of metal against metal. Suddenly, my cell door clicked open. Gojo stood there, silhouetted against the dim hallway light, his muscular frame filling the doorway.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. His boots echoed on the cold floor as he approached my bunk. He didn't say a word, just reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him.

"what are you doing?! why are you even here?!" I asked being shocked. Gojo smirked. His grip tightened. "Easy," he said softly, his voice low and urgent. "Thought you might need...company. It's tough being the only woman here"

"what do you mean?" I asked."You know exactly what I mean," he whispered, his face inches from mine. His hand moved to my waist possessively. "Being surrounded by all these hungry eyes...you must be tired of the constant stares, the unwanted attention." He paused, his thumb tracing circles on my hipbone. "I could..."

"I could make them all disappear," Gojo murmured, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "You'd be mine, and only mine. No one else would dare to look at you, let alone touch you." He desperately whispered in my ear.

"y-you should go" I said. "Should I?" Gojo chuckled. And I didn't notice when his fingers start to unbuckle my belt. "You really want me to leave you here all alone, with those little shits inmate dreaming about getting their hands on you?" He paused, his hands pausing at the button of my pants.

"w-what are you doing w-wai-" I finally realised but Gojo cut me off with a firm kiss, his lips crashing against mine. He pinned me against the bunk, his hands roaming over my body as he effortlessly pushed my pants down. I was about to protest when "Shh," he murmured against my lips. "Just let me take care of you tonight."

"N-No....leave or I'll tell the other officers" I said. Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "Go ahead," he said confidently, his hand sliding into my underwear. "Who do you think they'll believe? The quiet little prisoner or the chief security guard?" He started to caress me slowly.

And I couldn't reply. I was silent. "Exactly," Gojo whispered, his fingers exploring further as he hooked his legs around mine to keep me from kicking him off. "Now, be a good girl and stay quiet," he warned, his other hand reaching up to cover my mouth. "Or I'll have to gag you..."

"please leave me I don't want this." I begged. Gojo's smirk widened. "Too good for a criminal's touch?" He pulled his hands away suddenly, his voice harsh. "Maybe I should make you scream instead. Give the guys out there what they've all been dreaming of." He unbuckled his belt threateningly. "Answer me honestly - do you want this or not?"

"I don't.... P-Please" I said. His expression softened slightly at the plea, but his hand remained on his belt. "You're making the wrong choice," he said softly, leaning in close. "You don't know those men they're ready to get their hands on you any time they want. Just for pleasure" His fingers traced my neck possessively. "I don't want you just for pleasure.... I want you permanently....all mine" he whispered.

Fear grabbed me by my neck. I couldn't even think anything when suddenly he kissed me again. He deepened the kiss forcefully, his tongue invading my mouth as he pressed his body against mine. His hands released my wrists to roam my body again, gripping and squeezing roughly. He only broke the kiss to start unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, the other still holding my head in place.

he took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Gojo leaned down to capture my mouth again, his bare chest pressing against mine as he pinned me beneath him. His calloused hands explored my body roughly, leaving red marks in their wake. He broke the kiss again to nip and suck at my neck, marking me possessively.

Then he tore off my shirt. I wasn't wearing any bra. "You're fucking hotttt," he muttered, eyes darkening as he took in my exposed body. His rough hands traced my curves before moving to my breasts, squeezing and kneading. He lowered his head to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his fingers pinched the other.

"P-Please stop" I begged. "Too late for that," Gojo muttered, releasing my nipple with a pop. He raised his head to look at me, taking in my scared expression and half-naked body. He grabbed my pants and pulled it down with my panties. "Spread your legs," he ordered softly, his voice lower than before.

I didn't do anything. I was too scared. Gojo growled in frustration as I refused to comply. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I said, spread your fucking legs," he repeated, more forcefully this time. With lightning speed, he grabbed both my thighs and forcibly pushed them apart, settling himself between them.

I cried out. He unbuckled his belt and pants with one hand, kicking them off his legs. He was left in just his boxers, the bulge prominent. He hooked his arms under my knees, pulling my legs up and back, exposing me completely.

Gojo shoved his boxers down, freeing his rigid cock. Without hesitation, he thrust forward, brutally piercing into my pussy. He groaned loudly, not caring if the entire jail heard my screams. "Fuck, so tight..." he grunted, starting to pump into me violently.

Gojo reached between my legs to rub my clit roughly, the stimulation making my cries even more desperate. He fucked me mercilessly, his cock pounding into my pussy like a jackhammer.I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrust I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. Suddenly I felt his teeth gazing at my neck. "No no no d-don't please don't Mark me please " I cried out. He just ignored my please and bite my neck harshly. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He was panting.

He sits on the floor. The sound of his panting filled the room. Suddenly he started laughing. "I've heard you're in jail for a crime you didn't even. And you also don't have any family to help you.... and also I've heard that you are going out of jail this year. Don't worry darling, I know how to make you permanently MINE" He said darkly.

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