#they used to be so close with their little shared hobbies :(

[jihyocentric]

I've been missing my 97 liners lately 😞

a few days ago i remembered i did this fill and i've been thinking abt them since... i miss them too

[chahnniesroom]

coming up roses

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: most of the time, you're grateful to have such a good relationship with your older brother, minho. but when you find yourself falling for his best friend, chan, you can't help but be worried how he'll react when he finds out. you soon find yourself struggling with the unexpected consequences of keeping your feelings a secret.

word count: 10.2k

tags/warnings: hanahaki!au (read a/n), brother's best friend!au, hurt/comfort, angst, lots of fluffy sibling dynamics between minho and y/n, bad communication by the reader, mentions of: coughing, blood, and vomiting

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: i have finally written my hanahaki au!!! this took me ages, but i really really wanted to write a fic based on how this post describes hanahaki because i love this interpretation (hanahaki is from supressing feelings instead of unrequited love) a lot more than how it's usually written (not that that version is bad!). i actually wish i could have drawn this out more, but didn't have it in me haha

the phrase "it's all coming up roses" means that everything is going well with someone and i thought it was so perfectly ironic for a hanahaki fic where a character actually has roses coming up in the literal sense.

Minho has always been protective. You had felt cool and invincible as a child, having an older brother that was willing to have your back and scare away anybody that teased you. 

You’re grateful that he cares enough to be so involved in your life, but now that you’re in university, you can’t help but feel a little stifled. Minho takes his role as an older brother very seriously, especially since the two of you have moved out of your family home and are sharing an apartment closer to campus. It's a mixture of doting and enough teasing to drive you crazy.

Growing up, your family home had been the regular haunt of Minho and his friends. It was more common than not to get home from cram school and find the boys either lingering in the nearest convenience store or hanging out in your apartment. You wouldn't say that you were friends with the boys, but you were at least familiar enough that you would say hi to them if you saw them in the hallways and they would offer to walk home with you if you were ever leaving school at the same time.

Starting university had been hard for you, most of your friends had ended up moving to other cities or even going abroad. You, however, had decided to stick closer to home. Your program had a good reputation and your parents had promised that they would help you and Minho get an apartment close to campus as long as you lived together. Minho had readily agreed, he had commuted for his first year and had always complained about how long it took.

It was a difficult adjustment, moving out of your family home, balancing your course load, and making friends. Unlike Minho, who had used dance to find his close group of friends, you didn't have any hobbies that you were particularly passionate about and you weren't naturally outgoing or charismatic.

Especially in the first few weeks of classes, it feels like such a relief whenever you see one of Minho's friends that you latch onto them. It’s kind of awkward at first, especially because you don’t know his friends well enough to speak with them casually, but they get used to your presence. You would even consider some of them to be your friend, especially Seungmin, who shares a class with you, and Chan who usually has his lunch break at the same time as you.

You make your own friends eventually, slowly getting to know some of the people that share your program, but you’re definitely a lot closer to the boys than you were prior to university. While you spent most of your childhood calling Minho and his friends lame, you can now admit that you enjoy spending time with them, although you’d never say it to Minho’s face.

Still, Minho doesn’t always approve of who or where you hang out. Sometimes he’s even nosier than your parents were, always asking you about your schedule and calling when you’re out late. He warns you about spending time one-on-one with men and makes sure that you always have your location shared with him. You tolerate it for the most part, knowing that it’s his way of showing that he cares about you, but sometimes you just find him overbearing.

—

“I’m going out next Saturday,” Minho tells you one evening as you step out of your room to get a glass of water. “You’ll have to figure out something for dinner on your own.”

“Oh,” you say, suddenly a little nervous. “I uh- I also have plans that night.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. “What are you going to be doing?”

“There’s a party that I was invited to,” you say, biting your lip when you see Minho freeze. You turn your gaze to the ground, but you can still feel Minho's stare intensify. 

“What party,” he demands, not even bothering to frame it as a question.

“Does it matter?” you whine, annoyed by how protective Minho is. It’s even worse that you have an audience, Chan is over and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s watching your conversation curiously.

“Yes.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“I think it's at Taehoon's,” your voice is barely a whisper. Minho hears you anyway.

“Taehoon?” He repeats in disbelief. You glance up briefly. Minho's ears are flushed bright red and the tendons in his neck are standing out. He's furious. “Taehoon, who is four years older than you? Taehoon, who holds off-campus parties?”

You grimace and don't respond. There’s no way that he’s going to let you go, you resign yourself to a weekend stuck in your room watching dramas while your friends enjoy themselves. 

It’s bad enough that you had to mention Taehoon, who doesn’t have the best reputation, but you’ve forgotten that Minho would easily be able to recognize the type of party that he throws. You haven’t been to many university parties, but even you know that without the dorm restrictions, off-campus parties are often the wildest and were harder to get invited to. It’s not that you particularly care to attend this party in specific, you just don’t want to miss out since all of your friends will be there.

“Minho,” Chan steps in, clasping a heavy hand on your brother's shoulder.

“Who invited you,” Minho seethes, shaking Chan off.

“Just one of my friends,” you deflect.

“Minho,” Chan says again, this time jostling Minho enough that he turns his attention away from you finally. Your body sags in relief. “Chill, we're going to Taehoon's next weekend. It's just a party.”

“Yes, we are going. Not my baby sister! Y/n-ah, the answer is no.”

“Oppa!” you complain. “I'm not a baby anymore!”

“You don't know anything,” Minho hisses at you. 

“We were going to way crazier parties when we were Y/n's age,” Chan interrupts one more time. “Come on, at least we'd be able to keep an eye on her.”

Minho is about to reply when he stops and tilts his head in thought.

“Okay,” he says slowly, turning back to you with a gleam in his eye. “You can go, Y/n.”

“Really?” you brighten instantly even though you’re a little bit suspicious of his sudden change in heart.

Your breath catches in your throat as you excitedly make eye contact with Chan. He winks at you teasingly before turning his full attention back to Minho, who thankfully hadn’t noticed.

“You're coming with us,” Minho says, nodding decisively.

“Are you kidding me,” you reply flatly, all enthusiasm vanishing instantly.

“Yes. I'll make sure that everybody knows not to mess with you and you still can have fun with your silly little friends. Unless you don't want to go anymore?” Minho raises an eyebrow at you.

“Fine, I'll go with you,” you grumble.

“It'll be fun, Y/n! I promise that I won’t let Minho embarrass you,” Chan says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You try not to shiver as he leans in to whisper to you, close enough that you can almost feel his lips touching your ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find something or someone to distract him enough that he’ll forget you’re even there.”

“Okay,” you breathe shakily.

“Hey!” Minho pulls Chan off of you and into a headlock. “Whatever you’re scheming, cut it out. Y/nnie, don’t listen to a single thing this idiot tells you.”

“I try not to listen to idiots,” you say. “That’s why I never follow any of the advice that you give me!”

“Y/n-ah-” Minho starts.

You stick out your tongue at him childishly then dart to your room, slamming the door and locking it behind you so that Minho can’t follow you. The sound of Chan’s resulting laugh echoes through your head for the rest of the day.

—

By the time the weekend rolls around, you're a little worried that you’ve caught a cold. Your throat is achy and talking too much makes you cough, but you're not feeling any other symptoms so you don't think you're actually sick. Minho wasn't exactly pleased when you told him you were still planning on going, but he kept his word and didn't try to convince you otherwise.

Your friends are all getting ready together at one of their dorms, but your brother was adamant that he wanted you to go to the party with him and his friends. You're more comfortable getting changed and doing your makeup at home anyway, so it's not a big deal, but it's still not the same. 

Conversation pauses when you finally exit your room. Only Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho are still in the living area since most of Minho's friends are crowded around your apartment's entryway, shuffling to get their jackets and put on their shoes. Their eyes widen and you see Hyunjin choke on the drink he had just taken a sip of. You tug at the hem of your skirt slightly, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

You've worn this outfit before with friends and while it's definitely not the most conservative option in your closet, it's nowhere near as revealing as what you expect other girls will be wearing. It's just that you're not used to being around Minho's friends when you've put so much effort into your appearance and are showing off a bit of skin. They’ve seen you at your worst and are most familiar with the comfortable sweats and hoodies that you usually wear around your home.

Minho recovers the fastest. In a flash, he's made his way to you and has a death grip on your arm, trying to drag you back into your room. You resist, digging your heels in to try and make it harder for him, but it barely even slows him down.

“Oppa!”

“You are not leaving looking like this,” Minho huffs through gritted teeth.

“Minho-ya, come on. We're going to be late if you make her change,” Chan calls out. It draws the attention of the rest of the boys, who turn to look at the commotion. You hear Jisung wolf-whistle teasingly which only makes things worse. Minho's hand tightens even more around you, hard enough that you're sure it's going to bruise, and he whips around to glare at Jisung.

“Hyung, it's fine. Y/n-ah looks good,” Seungmin chimes in, before winking at you. You groan internally, knowing from the look in his eye that you're not going to like what he says next. “Is there a boy that you're trying to impress tonight?”

“No!” you deny immediately, still trying to pull your arm from your brother's grip to no avail. Your chest tightens at the idea of being forced to stay at home. Minho immediately latches onto the idea that Seungmin has thrown out, his expression darkening even further.

“Is it true?” he questions you.

“Oppa, I promise, I'm just matching with my friends. Which you would know if we actually go to the party!”

“If there is, you better tell me,” he warns.

“Yes, yes,” you groan. “If there was, which there isn't! You're just wasting time now.”

“At least put on a jacket, you’re going to be cold.”

“Fine.” You wrench your arm out of Minho's grasp and stalk to your room. You grab the first jacket you see, intent on ditching it the second that you get to the party, then head straight to the door, breezing past Minho on your way. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” he says in a flat voice that says he is anything but.

—

Your apartment is not too far away from the party, so it’s not long before everyone is unloading from their cars and approaching the party. You can hear the bass pounding even from outside the building and you’re sure that there will be a number of neighbours that file noise complaints by the end of the night.

When you make it in, your friends greet you enthusiastically, but are all a little bit weird, fixing their hair more than usual and giggling nervously. You’re not close with all of the girls that are in the group, some of them you can’t even recall if you’ve met before, but you can still tell that everyone is acting strangely. 

It's not until you turn around that you realise that Minho has practically stationed himself behind you and is glowering at anybody who looks your way too long. After years of being on the receiving end of his glares, you’ve grown immune, but everybody else is clearly at least a little intimidated.

“Oppa,” you hiss. He barely spares you a glance. “You're not seriously going to babysit me all night, are you?”

“I'm letting you do what you want so you should let me do whatever I want,” he replies primly. 

You know there's no convincing him on your own. From across the room, you manage to catch Chan's eye and nod your head in Minho's direction. Luckily, he knows exactly what you're trying to say and makes his way over quickly to stand beside Minho.

“Minho-ya, you don't have a drink yet?” he asks, before pointedly taking a sip of his own cup.

“I asked Yongbokkie and Seungmin to make me one,” he replies, unphased.

“And you trust them that much?”

At the same time, the two of them glance over to the kitchen. You follow their gaze to find Felix, Seungmin, as well as Jisung mixing together a concoction that looks not only toxic, but also disgusting. You want to gag when you see them add in soju, hot sauce, milk, and maraschino cherries in quick succession. That’s not even considering whatever they’ve already put into the cup before you looked over. There's no way they actually think the combination could taste good and Minho must agree because he stands up and starts stalking towards them, swearing to himself the whole time.

After Minho leaves, Chan wanders a bit closer to you and brushes a hand against your shoulder lightly. You have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

“I told you, I got you tonight. Don't worry about your brother breathing down your neck,” he says lowly. Just like when he first promised to distract your brother, Chan winks at you, then follows after Minho.

You force yourself not to stare after him, cheeks flushing as the rest of the girls squeal. Some of your friends have met Minho in passing a couple times, but not any of his friends. Your brother's dance crew has become wildly popular this year, but luckily it's not widely known that you are close with them. You prefer to keep it that way, but it seems like revealing your relation to them is unavoidable tonight. It's just your luck that some of these girls are among the ‘fans’ that your brother has somehow amassed.

“Y/nnie,” a girl beside you pouts. “How come you've never mentioned you know Lee Minho and Bang Chan before? I can't believe you've never introduced him to us!”

“I-” you splutter, still flustered by how close Chan was to you.

“I saw you show up with all eight of them,” another girl interupts. Someone else gasps as if you've committed a serious crime. “You actually know them?”

“Well, yeah-”

“I heard that you called Minho oppa, are you two dating?” the first girl asks.

“What? No!” you quickly deny, disgusted by the very thought of that.

“Oh come on, you don't think that they're ridiculously attractive?” someone else chimes in. The whole group murmurs in agreement. They have more and more questions for you and start to talk over each other.

“Minho's my brother! As in, we share the same parents, that’s why I call him oppa.” you exclaim, before things can spiral further. “And ew, he is definitely not attractive!”

The group is stunned into silence for a moment before exploding in noise. There are girls offended on Minho’s behalf, some asking what him and his friends are like, and others who beg you to introduce them.

Your best friend chooses that moment to speak up, reminding you why she is one of your favourite people in the world.

“Let’s play a drinking game!” she exclaims loudly. She holds up a couple bottles of soju that you’re not sure where she’s been hiding and starts filling up everyone’s cup. Luckily the girls are easily distracted by alcohol, enough that the topic is changed without too much of a fuss. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

—

After a few drinks, you eventually excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re definitely on your way to being tipsy, but not enough that you feel unsteady on your feet. The loud music makes it a bit difficult to focus and people have filled every corner of the house, but you’re somehow able to find an unoccupied bathroom.

You take an extra moment to splash yourself with water before you leave, you’re feeling a bit sticky from sweating and when one of your friends spilled a bit of their drink on you. When you finish, you swing open the door and immediately apologise when you narrowly miss hitting a guy who has been waiting in the hall. He waves it off, but doesn’t make a move to enter the bathroom, instead stepping a bit closer to you. 

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doing here all on her own?” he slurs, crowding further into your personal space. It’s dark, but you can still tell that his eyes are red and unfocused and hair is matted to his forehead. He's drunk. 

You swallow hard, trying not to panic. You have to treat this situation delicately and somehow make your disinterest clear without provoking or offending him.

“I’m not alone.” You can’t help but laugh nervously, taking a step back. Your stomach churns when your shoulder knocks into the wall behind you and you realise you have nowhere else to go. “My friends are actually probably wondering what’s taking me so long, I’ll just-”

“S’okay, I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if you were gone a little longer.” He leans in until he’s close enough that you can smell the sourness of his sweat and the alcohol on his breath. “I just wanna get t’know you a bit better.”

He smiles down at you in a way that he must think is attractive. It makes you want to vomit.

“No thanks, I’m just going to head-” Your voice is shrill with panic, you can barely recognize it.

You try to shuffle to the side, but the guy slaps his hand against the wall, trapping you even more. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest. He reaches out and traces one of your cheeks with a clumsy hand, ignoring the way that you cringe away.

“Aww c’mon darling, don’t be like that. I can promise you a good time.”

You know a bit of self defense, but this is far from a fair fight. This guy is significantly taller than you and probably double your weight. Even drunk, he can likely overpower you without even trying.

Before you can make a move, an arm slings around the drunk guy’s shoulder, jostling him to the side. Your heart sinks. There was a small chance that you’d have been able to escape, but not if you’re outnumbered.

“Hey mate,” the new person says. Your head shoots up at the familiar voice. Chan. “You seem pretty sloshed.”

Chan nudges the guy again, this time creating a little space that makes you feel less trapped. His body language is loose and relaxed, but the expression on his face is another story. His gaze is intense as he scans you, softening by a fraction when you nod that you’re fine.

“M’not,” the guy argues. He squints up at Chan. “Do I even know you? Get lost, I’m busy right now.”

“Why don’t you go outside and get some air? It’s gotten pretty stuffy in here.” It’s not a suggestion. Chan’s words are friendly, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

The guy opens his mouth, likely to protest, but promptly shuts it when he sees the look on Chan’s face. The two of you watch as he stumbles away without a fight, bumping into a few other people in his haste to leave. Now that you’re alone, Chan backs up, giving you more space to breathe.

“Sorry about that,” Chan says, hand scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “Didn't want to be too aggressive. It just- you looked like you needed some help.”

“Some people just don’t know how to take no for an answer,” you say quietly. It’s just another thing to be grateful for when Chan doesn’t comment on the shakiness of your voice. Instead, his expression darkens further before he composes himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks tentatively. 

“Yeah, you came at just the right time.” You look away, a bit embarrassed that he had to step in and rescue you, but he puts a finger under your chin and uses it to turn your face back to him. It feels so different from when the drunk guy touched you that you don’t want him to stop. His eyes search yours for a moment and whatever he finds must satisfy him.

“You should probably rejoin your friends.” Chan starts to step away, but you reach out and snag his sleeve before he can go. 

“Chan-oppa.”

He pauses, turning back to look at you again.

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice, although you’re not sure what he’s hoping you say.

“Please don’t tell my brother about this,” you plead. Chan’s expression drops a little, clearly that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he’s still quick to reassure you.

“No, yeah, of course. I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“Of course,” Chan repeats.

“And… thank you.” You rise up on your toes and kiss his cheek quickly, then slip away towards where your friends are before you can see what his reaction is. 

—

It takes a few days for you to recover from the party. You hadn’t drunk enough to be hungover, but just remembering your interaction with Chan makes you want to bury yourself in your bed and never leave. Luckily Minho hasn't questioned your change in behaviour much, but you can tell that he's getting sick of your wallowing, even if he doesn't know the reason behind it. 

“Yah, Y/n-ah!” Minho bangs on your door. “We’re heading out for gukbap in 5 minutes, are you coming?”

He doesn’t specify who the ‘we’ is, you know who to expect. Of course, Chan is included. It’s easy to make a decision.

“Go without me!” you yell back.

“Eh? Open up.”

“Just come in, it’s unlocked.”

You hear the door open and Minho approaches. He prods at your prone form with one of his feet.

“What’s up with you? You never say no to gukbap.”

“Nothing!” you groan.

“You’ve been acting strange since that stupid party, what are you hiding?” He pokes at you again, this time a bit harder.

“Oppa,” you complain, lifting yourself out of your blankets to swat at his foot. “I promise that I have nothing to hide, I just don’t feel like hanging out with your friends today.”

“They haven’t done anything, have they?” Minho asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Channie-hyung asked me if you were doing okay.”

“No! I-” you choke on your spit in your haste to answer, leading to a coughing fit that leaves you with tears gathering in your eyes. You clear your throat roughly then continue. “No, Chan-oppa and the rest of your friends have all been nice to me.”

“Oppa?” 

Whoops, you hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“What?” you whine. “You’re the one who forces me to hang out with them all the time! You told me to stop being so formal around them. They kept telling me too, it got really annoying.”

“Hmm,” Minho huffs, not quite convinced.

“Really,” you insist. “I just don’t want to go out today, I promise.”

“Okay,” Minho says reluctantly before he gets uncharacteristically serious. “But you know, you're my little sister, you can always come to me if something or someone is bothering you right?”

“I- yeah of course, oppa.” You feel kind of touched, not used to Minho openly showing that he cares about you, even though you know he does. It's enough that your throat feels tight with emotion, but you force yourself to speak through it. “Thank you. I always know that I can count on you.”

“I'm the only one allowed to mess with you,” he says sweetly, ruffling your hair so that it sticks up the way he knows you hate. “If anyone else does, I'll make sure that they regret the day that they were born.”

You try to ignore the guilt that curls in your stomach as you watch Minho leave. You hate hiding things from him, but you're still confused by your own emotions and you're worried by how he'll react.  Minho has always been your biggest supporter in everything except for your love life, which he is strictly against no matter how much you try to reason with him. 

You can’t imagine how much worse it would be if he found out that the person you’re interested in is one of his friends. You’ve heard him warn the whole group that you were off limits. He’d use a joking tone, but everyone knew that he was actually serious about it.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter because you’re almost certain that nothing will ever come of your feelings, Chan is way out of your league so there’s no point in even imagining a relationship together.

—

Unsurprisingly, your attempts to avoid Chan fail pretty much instantly. You're not sure how the stars aligned exactly opposite to what you were hoping, but the studio that Minho's (and therefore Chan's) dance crew uses had a schedule conflict that ended up shifting their practice times.

To your dismay, it works out so that multiple times a week, you're leaving campus at the exact same time as your brother. That in itself is not much of an issue, it's the fact that Chan lives close enough to you that the three of you commute back together. To make matters worse, Minho always invites Chan over to have dinner and Chan always accepts.

You can't fault Minho though, you know that he invites him over partly because he wants to hang out with Chan and partly because he knows that Chan might end up working throughout the night in an empty apartment and completely forget to eat. It does also bring you comfort, knowing that Chan is being cared for, that he's eating well and taking time in his day to not worry about school or dance. It's also nice for you, you've grown so used to preparing and eating dinner on your own that it's started to feel more like a chore than something to look forward to.

It's just hard. You haven't had a private conversation with Chan since the party, but you know that he wants to talk to you. 

You were so sure that he would never reciprocate your feelings, but now, you're starting to doubt yourself.

While you're on the bus home, listening to your music, you sometimes glance over to find Chan staring at you, though he's quick to look away. When the three of you are cooking in the kitchen, he's more affectionate, resting a light hand on your waist or back when he passes behind you or nudging your shoulder playfully after he makes a joke. During dinner, he makes sure that you're also engaged in conversation, asking about your classes or the few clubs that you're involved in. He sometimes brings you and Minho little treats from the convenience store and they're always in your favourite flavours.

The thing is, Chan is friendly and generous to everyone that he meets. It's hard to tell if you're reading too much into your interactions with him or if he's actually paying you more interest than usual. You've never heard of Chan dating, actually you can't recall if any of the boys in Minho's dance crew have ever had partners, but it's not for a lack of interested parties.

At times, it feels so impossible that you're embarrassed to even admit to yourself how much you like Chan. You're not blind, you know that there's a fair share of girls who are just as delusional as you are, giggling when he looks over and insisting to their friends that he's interested in them because he helped open the door for them or waved as he walked past.

In fact, some of the very moments that you keep closest to your heart sound so similar to experiences that you've heard other girls gushing about that you hate yourself for having hope that Chan would be interested in you of all people.

It's easier to pretend that there's nothing going on between the two of you. You know that if you were to confess your feelings to Chan, something you would never do, that he would be nice about it. You can almost imagine it, how flustered he would be, making up some kind of excuse about not being interested in dating because he was too devoted to school and dance. He would promise not to tell your brother about it and assure you that it wouldn't change the way that he treats you.

You've run through this hypothetical situation so many times that not only have you experienced enough mortification for a lifetime, but you've convinced yourself even further to lock your feelings up inside of you. There's no point in confessing when you're so sure that nothing will ever come from it.

—

One day, Chan is over as usual and the three of you are cooking in your tiny kitchen, elbows bumping and arms reaching over as everyone tries to make do with the small space available. 

The food is almost ready when Minho's phone rings, the special song that he has saved for Jisung. He picks it up instantly, shoving the pair of chopsticks that he's using into your hands in his haste. You can't hear what Jisung says, but Minho rolls his eyes and leaves to his bedroom, lecturing Jisung about something the whole way there.

“Hey,” Chan says softly. You try to keep yourself busy, picking up dishes and putting them into the sink for washing, but he tugs at your wrist lightly so that you face him. “Is everything good with you?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding quickly. 

“You just seem, I don't know, distracted or something these days.”

“No, it's-” You take a deep breath to collect yourself. “Thank you for asking, really. But I'm fine.”

“Okay,” Chan says, still looking concerned. “Listen, I know we haven't-”

You've never been so glad to hear Minho re-enter the room. 

“Eh? You guys haven't even finished with the food?” he complains in a whiny voice that he only really uses around Chan. “What have you guys been doing this whole time? Come on, Y/n-ah, go set the table. Hyung, I know you can't cook to save your life, but at least scoop out the rice into our bowls. I'm hungry!”

Chan drops the subject for the rest of the night, but you know that you’ve only delayed the conversation. 

—

The next day, you wake up to a dry and achy throat. This isn’t that unusual, you suffer from seasonal allergies that sometimes block your nose and force you to breathe through your mouth as you sleep. This time, it feels different. Your throat has been bothering you more than usual the past couple of weeks and while drinking a glass of water does help you wake up, it doesn’t dull the pain that persists. 

You shuffle out of bed to wash up, then head straight to the kitchen, brewing yourself a steaming mug of yuja tea. The taste is comforting, but doesn't help as much as you hoped it would. 

You get ready for school quickly, hoping to leave before Minho wakes up. You know that your classes start before him today, but he's always been an early riser, preferring to work out or spend time in the dance studio before it gets too busy.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho calls out, right as you're starting to put on your shoes. “You were going to leave without saying bye?”

“I didn’t know if you were awake,” you say, wincing when your voice still sounds rough.

“You didn’t even check.” Minho steps out of his room and unlocks the front door for you as you pull on your backpack.

“I was in a rush-” you start to say, but the rest of your sentence doesn’t manage to make its way out. Clearing your throat only irritates it further, triggering a cough that you can’t contain.

“Y/n,” Minho says, genuine concern shining in his eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

He raises a hand to your forehead, but you slap it away weakly before he can check your temperature.

“I'm fine, I just have this stupid sore throat that won’t go away,” you reassure him. “I don’t think I’m sick though. The air has been so dry lately, I think I need a humidifier in my room while I sleep.”

“Aww.” Minho pinches your cheek and goes straight back to teasing you. “My delicate baby sister.”

“Ugh, forget I said anything.” You push your brother away. “Now let me go, I'm going to be late for class.”

Minho doesn't say anything in response, but the next night when you go to sleep, a new humidifier has been installed on your bedside table. 

—

In the next few weeks you find that the discomfort in your throat that has been plaguing you has evolved into something else. There’s a persistent feeling of something caught in your throat and you find yourself with a lingering dry cough that no amount of tea or medication can relieve.

One night, you wake up feeling like you can't breathe. In a panic, you untangle yourself from your sheets and get yourself into a sitting position. The change in position allows a deep cough to rattle through you, enough that you’re finally able to suck in a breath. 

Instead of phlegm or maybe a piece of food that could have been stuck in your throat, you feel something velvety in your mouth. You blindly reach for your bedside table to turn on your lamp and wonder if you’re still asleep when you find a single, dark red rose petal in the palm of your hand.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch yourself, hard, but when your eyes open, nothing has changed.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and a cold sweat starts to form, making your pyjamas stick to your back.

You’ve heard of hanahaki disease, of course you have, but you’ve never known someone who has suffered from it. 

It makes sense, you’ve had a sore, scratchy throat and dry cough for weeks now with no other cold symptoms.

You can’t believe it though. 

Hanahaki disease was almost like an urban legend at this point, having been exaggerated and twisted so much in media that you’ve almost forgotten the reality of it. While most of the shows and books that cover this have a somewhat romantic take on it, declaring that it's caused by unrequited love, you know the real cause is your refusal to admit your feelings.

You knew that lying, to Chan, to your brother, to yourself, would have consequences. You had heard stories about how people who kept their feelings a secret were slowly choked by them, petals and leaves representing every time you had held yourself back. 

You just never thought it would happen to you.

Sure, you were interested in Chan. You found him kind, hard-working, funny, and attractive, but it's not like you were in love with him.

You crumple the petal in your hand and throw it into your garbage can. If this is your first time finding petals, you still have months until things progress to be more serious. A part of you hopes that this was some sort of one-off, that this would be the first and last time your body creates any flowers.

You turn off the light and pull the covers tightly over your body, praying that you'll wake up in the morning and find that this was all some crazy stress-related dream.

You don’t fall asleep for the rest of the night.

—

You had thought that you were pretty good at covering up your tracks, but it doesn’t take long before Minho starts piecing things together. It doesn't help over the past few days, your symptoms have steadily worsened. You’ve found yourself coughing up petals every day, enough that you're starting to grow concerned about how quickly things are progressing.

It starts when he calls you into your shared bathroom one evening. You don’t think much of it, until you find him staring at something on the ground.

“What’s this?” he asks. 

“It’s a rose petal,” you say easily, stooping down to pinch it between two fingers and dangle it in front of his face. “You’ve never seen one before?”

Minho rolls his eyes at that, swatting at you half-heartedly. You manage to dodge out of the way, but lose your grip on the petal. It flutters to the floor, but Minho swipes it out of the air.

“What’s it from? Is a boy giving you flowers?” he asks warningly, crushing the petal in his grip.

“Oppa, stop jumping to conclusions!” you groan. “It’s from a bath bomb that I tried out, I guess I missed this one when I was cleaning up.”

“Since when do you take baths?” 

“Since I got a bunch of bath bombs on sale. I thought it would be relaxing.” This time you’re the one rolling your eyes. “But if I knew that it would lead to you interrogating me, I wouldn’t have bothered buying them in the first place.”

“Fine, sorry, just- just clean up next time you’re going to make a mess in the bathroom,” Minho says, before throwing the petal at you and leaving you alone.

You watch as the petal falls onto the tiles, crumpled into a little ball from being in Minho’s fist. When you reach out to pick it up, your fingers are trembling. You’ve never been a good liar, but it seems that at least this time, your acting skills have been good enough to fool Minho.

You hear the front door close and you finally give in to the cough that you've been trying to suppress the whole conversation. 

Tears spring to your eyes, but you can't stop the coughs that wrack your body. This time, even after you spit out a couple of petals, it still feels like there’s something stuck in your throat. After what feels like forever, that something dislodges and you find yourself holding a tiny rosebud complete with a short stem.

You stare at it in horror, you haven’t had more than petals until now. There’s a deep sense of dread that fills you. You thought that you’d have more time, it hasn’t even been a month since you had started coughing up anything.

You throw the flower into the toilet, flushing quickly so that the red petals swirl out of sight. Even after you rinse your mouth, there’s a tinge of iron that lingers.

—

You don't often visit the boys when they're at dance practice, in fact you actively avoid going to the studio. It's one thing to know that their dance crew is quite popular and another to experience it yourself.

But today you don't have much of a choice, in your rush to leave for an early lab, you completely forgot to pack an assignment that was due the same morning and had begged Minho to bring it to campus for you. You were lucky that he hadn't left the apartment yet, but he only brought it on the condition that you brought him coffee and picked your assignment up from him directly. 

It's just before 10am when you head over, which means that there's a lot of students waiting for their dance class to start, but it still surprises you to find a fairly significant crowd outside of the studio that Minho had texted you to go to. You can hear music faintly from the closed door and, as you push your way closer, find that there's a large horizontal window that has caught everyone's attention.

You get more than a fair share of dirty looks as you squeeze through the crowd and one girl even stops you as you move to open the door. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say politely.

“You're not allowed in,” she says in a haughty voice. Her acrylic nails bite into your arm, surprisingly strong for how thin she is. “Their practice isn't over.”

“You're not allowed in, I don’t need an invitation,” you say under your breath, rolling your eyes. You must not have said it quietly enough because she gasps dramatically.

“Please, you think you're special?” She looks you up and down dismissively. “You wish any of the boys would talk to someone like you.”

“You must be referring to yourself, they would never want to have to associate with someone as desperate and pathetic as you,” you snap, shouldering your way past her. She squeals, but finally lets go of you, maybe hoping that you'll get in trouble for interrupting.

You open the door just enough to slide through and carefully close it behind you so that you don’t disturb them. It’s mesmerizing, watching them all dance. They’ve been together for so long that it looks so natural for them to move in sync, although you know it’s more to do with long hours of practice and Minho’s eagle eyes pointing out any mistakes. 

None of the boys notice you at first, caught up in the chorus of the song that they're practicing, but Jeongin catches sight of you after a moment.

“Noona!” he says excitedly, abandoning the dance to run over to you. “Is that coffee for me?”

“Innie if you drink that coffee you will not survive long enough for the caffeine to make it into your bloodstream,” your brother warns from across the room. 

Jeongin falters at that, but when you shake the cup enticingly in front of him, he throws caution to the wind and takes a sip.

“Yah! What did I say, Yang Jeongin?” Is the only warning Jeongin gets before he’s chased around the room by an angry Minho. The familiar chaos is almost enough to lift your mood and make you forget about the terrible interaction you had outside.

“You look annoyed, did something happen?” Chan asks, approaching you from where he had gone to turn off the music on his laptop. You curse how observant he is, you thought you had done a pretty good job of hiding how you felt.

“Nothing, just had a weird encounter with a defensive fan out there. It's like you guys are idols or something” you joke, nodding your head towards the window where people are watching curiously. You can still feel the sting from the girl’s nails digging into your wrist and when you lift it up to examine it more closely, see a little bit of blood beading at the deepest crescents.

“They’re not fans,” Chan says in disgust, before he does a double take. “I- you’re bleeding?”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, wiping at the wounds but only succeeding at smudging the blood so that it looks even worse. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Come here, we have a first aid kit somewhere. We don’t want it to get infected.” 

Chan takes your hand delicately, making sure to avoid the inflamed areas, and leads you over to the bench closest to where all their bags are piled up. You sneak a glance over to the girl that stopped you and can’t help but feel smug when you find her, pale and slack-jawed. Chan sits you down, only leaving your side to pull the blinds down on the window and dig around until he finds the first aid kit.

“Sorry, it might sting a bit,” Chan apologises as he pulls out the disinfectant wipes.

You peek at Chan and your breath catches in your throat at how concentrated he looks, brows slightly furrowed as he tries to gently dab at the scratches. Most of his hair is hidden under a baseball cap, but you can see a little duck tail forming at the base of his neck which draws attention to the trails of sweat that disappear under the collar of his shirt. You must make some kind of noise, because Chan looks up, eyes wide with concern.

“Sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“No, you're good,” you say, cheeks flushing.

“I’m almost done,” he says, searching around for a bandage. He’s just finished applying it, tongue sticking out in concentration, when you hear someone else approach.

“What's going on here?” Minho asks.

“Nothing!” you say at the same time that Chan says, “I was just helping Y/n put on a bandage.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Minho's eyes widen and he reaches out to take a look at your wrist, even though he won't be able to see anything under the bandage. You pull your sleeve down and stand up in a rush.

“It’s nothing, really oppa! I'm sorry, I have to go, my class is starting soon!” you call out, lying through your teeth as you run out of the room, clutching your assignment. “Thank you, Channie-oppa!”

You rush into the nearest bathroom, not even caring that there are people in the other stalls, and throw up an explosion of petals. By the time that you finally make it to class, just in time, your throat stings more than the wound on your wrist.

—

You start trying to avoid Minho and well, you never really stopped in your attempts to avoid Chan.

You leave early in the morning, only come back well after the sun has set, and do everything in your power to contain your cough when you're at home.

You know you're not solving the problem, only prolonging it, but every conversation, every lie, seems to accelerate the growth of the roses that have taken up residence in your lungs. You know that it's not helping, that keeping this secret is just strengthening the flowers that are slowly choking you. It's just that no matter how many conversations you've rehearsed in your head or texts that you've drafted, something seems to stop you.

You're just so so scared that waking up with a mouthful of petals and thorns, bloody coughing fits that you can't prevent, and the raspy tone of your voice that has developed is preferrable. 

As much as you hate him sometimes, you've looked up to your brother for your whole life. You don't know what you would do without him and the thought of losing him terrifies you beyond belief.

You don't always get what you want, though. It's not long until Minho confronts you again.

It's not really a surprise, when you look in the mirror these days, you're shocked by your appearance. Your face is pale and drawn, you have deep bags from not being able to sleep at night, and you've lost weight since most solid food irritates your throat enough to trigger a coughing fit. Add that to the fact that you know your apartment's walls are paper thin which means it's impossible that your brother can't hear you coughing at all hours of the day.

“Y/n-ah. I know that you're not doing well right now. Don't even try to deny it,” Minho says. He closes his eyes for a moment before seemingly deciding something. “I- you don't have to tell me what it is. I would prefer it if you did, but just- what can I do to help?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to reassure him that you're fine, but regret it when you start choking instead. You lurch upright and head directly to the bathroom, Minho trailing behind you worriedly. 

“I-” Trying to talk just makes it worse. You're used to it now, the way that the thorns seem to claw at your throat on their way up, how even the brush of soft petals against the raw flesh hurts, the metallic taste that you can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times you wash your mouth. Still, it doesn't make it easier.

Minho watches in silence as you heave over the toilet. He puts a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles to try and soothe some of your pain. Your eyes water, partially from coughing and partly because you're mortified that your brother is finally witnessing this.

You throw up finally, mostly petals and blood, which is a relief. The stems have been the most painful by far, each thorn digging into the already abused flesh of your throat.

When you finally finish rinsing your mouth, he's holding out a tissue which you accept gratefully. Minho doesn't comment until you've finally caught your breath.

“Y/n-ah-”

“Yeah,” you say miserably, tearing at the leftover tissue in your hand. Your voice both sounds and feels like you've been swallowing gravel. “Hanahaki, who would have guessed that I'd be a romantic at heart?”

You laugh weakly. Minho doesn't.

“I knew it. All those times you locked yourself in the bathroom with the water running… That stupid bath bomb story you told me… I hear you up at all hours, coughing your lungs out… You’ve been hiding it this whole time, haven’t you?” he accuses you.

“I can explain-”

“Go on then,” Minho says impatiently.

“I- It's-” You bury your face in your hands, unable to get the words out. “It's stupid.”

“Y/n-ah, it's obviously not stupid. Whatever it is, it's bothering you enough that it's hurting you physically.”

“I like someone,” you say in a small voice. “Okay? That's it.”

“Why won't you tell them?” Minho demands. “Why won't you tell me who it is?”

“No, I can't. There’s no point, it wouldn't work out,” you insist, shaking your head.

“What are you talking about? No point? Y/n, can't you see it's killing you.” You've never heard Minho sound so desperate. He's angry, he's frustrated, but most of all, he's scared, you realise.

“Oppa-” you say cautiously, but you're interrupted by yet another coughing fit. You can't hide it from your brother when the tissue that you've used to cover your mouth is tinged red by the time you're done. You can feel there's still something lodged in your throat, it takes everything in you to ignore the urge to continue coughing to try and get it out.

“I can't lose you, Y/n,” he whispers. Your eyes widen when you realise his are filled with tears. You don't think you've ever seen Minho cry. “I can't let you do this to yourself, please.”

“I need more time-”

“You don’t have time!” Minho interrupts frantically. “Have you even seen a doctor about this?”

You look away guiltily at the question.

“No, but-”

“Are you kidding me?” Minho says exasperatedly. “We’re booking you an appointment right now.”

“Is it going to make a difference? I know what’s wrong-” As if to prove your point, you can’t stop yourself from coughing again. “It's not that bad yet, oppa,” you lie, the croakiness of your voice giving you away.

“Y/n-”

“I promise! I promise that I am trying my best. I- if it doesn't get better, I'll see a doctor in two weeks.” 

“Not good enough, Y/n-ah. If you can't tell me, at least talk to whoever you like,” he pleads. 

“Fine,” you say. “I- I'll talk to him in the next few days. And if the flowers don't go away, then I will see a doctor.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh of relief, pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. You try your best to sink into his embrace, but just can't ignore the guilt that seems to consume you.

—

Chan catches you outside your last lecture that night. You're not sure how exactly he found out your schedule, but you exit the lecture hall to find him leaning against the wall directly across from the doors.

It could just be that he knows someone else taking this course or that he has a class in the same room, but somehow you know that he's waiting for you. Not ready for this conversation, you try to keep your head down to pass by unnoticed, but you know that he's spotted you when he calls out your name.

“Hey.” Chan reaches out, tugging on your sleeve without actually touching you. You turn around, stomach sinking slightly. Yes, you had promised your brother that you'd confess to Chan, but you didn't think it would happen so soon. “You're heading home right?”

“Yeah,” you say warily. “What's up?”

“I'm going back too, can we walk together?”

“Sure,” you agree slowly, not able to think of a way to get out of this situation. 

The two of you walk in silence towards your bus stop. Chan's being uncharacteristically awkward and you're not sure what to expect.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says suddenly.

“Okay?”

Chan stays quiet for so long that you’re about to ask if he’s okay.

“I like you,” he blurts out, right as you open your mouth to speak.

“What?” Of everything he could have said, this is what you're expecting the least. There’s no way that you heard him correctly, you must need to get your ears checked.

“I like you,” Chan repeats. You blink up at him, stunned. “But if you don't feel the same way, it's- don't worry about it. I promise that I'll respect it. I'll back off and everything will stay the same. I just wanted to get it off my chest. And maybe, I don't know if I was just making things up, but I thought that you liked me too?”

“You can't,” is all that escapes your mouth.

“I… can't like you?” Chan asks, baffled.

“No, it's- you can't- we can't,” you stammer. “My brother-"

“What, you think I'm afraid of Minho-ya?” Chan asks cockily, raising an eyebrow in a way that you can't help but find attractive.

“I just- he always said-”

“Y/n-ah,” Chan says gently. “I like you and I don't care what your dumb brother thinks. He can complain all he wants, but as long as you're happy, I'm happy. And-”

“You actually like me?” you interrupt.

“Yes, is it really so hard to believe?”

“I just always thought, you only saw me as Minho-oppa's baby sister,” you say glumly, kicking at the ground.

“I did when you were younger for sure,” Chan laughs. “But since university, I feel like I've actually gotten to know the real you, to see how funny, talented, kind, and thoughtful you are. I like you for you, not because I'm friends with your brother.” 

“But there's so many other girls you could choose from that are much prettier or smarter than me,” you argue, still not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Y/n-ah, are you actually trying to convince me not to like you?” Chan pouts. “If you don't feel the same way, just say so, it's okay.”

“No! I-” you trail off, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

“You what?” Chan prompts you gently.

“I like you too.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that he's heard you from the smile that grows on his face.

“What was that?” Chan asks cheekily.

“I said I like you too!” you say louder this time, before hiding your face in your hands so that you don't have to look at Chan. 

Even though you're beyond embarrassed, you feel better than you have in a long time, giddy with the idea that Chan actually reciprocates your feelings.

But when you breathe in, instead of relief, there's still that familiar tightness in your chest. 

You have to talk to Minho, you realise. As much as you've been keeping it a secret from Chan, you know that a majority of your inner turmoil stems from hiding our feelings from the closest person in your life. You had hoped that talking to Chan would instantly cure your hanahaki, but clearly you were wrong.

—

For the first time in weeks, you purposely seek out Minho. Luckily, you don't have to look far, when you get home, Minho is stretched out on the couch watching anime.

“I told him,” you say. Minho immediately sits upright, turning his attention to you. “The guy I like. But it didn’t help, the flowers are still-”

“And he feels the same way?” Minho interrupts you.

“I- yes, he’s the one that confessed first.”

“Wow,” Minho whistles. “Who’s crazy enough to have feelings for you?”

You had already made up your mind that you had to tell your brother, but his reaction makes you even more confident in your decision. Maybe it's the way that Minho is treating this so lightly, but you’re no longer nervous to say it out loud.

“It's Chan-oppa,” you say, bracing yourself. 

“Chan?” Minho repeats, shell shocked.

“Channie-hyung? Like-” he takes out his phone and pulls up the photo he has of Chan in his contacts.

Chan has the craziest bedhead and his face is puffy from sleep in the photo. He's squinting up at the camera, a hand coming up to try and block his face. He looks adorable.

Minho watches your face carefully as you visibly melt a bit looking at the picture.

“You really do like him, huh,” he says in a quiet voice, no longer joking around. “This whole time?”

“Yeah.” You look down. “I'm sorry.”

“That's it? That's the person you've been so scared of telling me that you liked?"

“I- yes? You don't think it's weird?” you ask tentatively, looking back up at your brother. “The two of us being together? He's one of your best friends.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely weird.” Minho laughs. “I do not understand it at all. But Y/n, Channie-hyung is one of the few people in my life that I trust. Do I want him to be dating my baby sister? Of course not! I don't want you to be dating anyone. Do I think he’s out of his mind for being interested in you? Definitely.”

“Hey!” you interject. Minho carries on like he can’t hear you.

“Do I think he fully understands that if he hurts you in any way, directly or indirectly, on purpose or on accident, that I will hunt him down and make him regret the fact that he ever existed in the first place? Yes, I think he knows.”

“Oppa,” you say in horror. “You will not give your best friend the shovel talk.”

“I don’t have to.” Minho smiles brightly, a picture of innocence if you didn’t know him. “My reputation precedes me. Channie-hyung's one of my closest friends, he would never expect anything less from me.”

“Oppa-”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho softens his voice. “I also know that of all the people that I've ever met, Channie-hyung is one that is least likely to ever hurt you. I trust him, but I also want you to know that I trust your judgement.”

You look away, sniffing. You never could have imagined that Minho would accept your relationship so easily that it's making you feel emotional.

“Aigoo, Y/nnie,” Minho coos. He pulls you into a tight hug, ignoring the way that tears finally escape from you and stain his shirt. “You were really worried about this, weren't you?”

You nod into his shoulder, unable to provide a verbal response.

“I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't tell me about this. It's definitely going to take a bit of time to get used to it, but I'm happy for you, really. I know I can seem overbearing sometimes, but I just worry.”

“I didn't want you to be upset at Channie-oppa or me,” you murmur. “I didn't want to do anything to hurt your friendship. I didn't want to hurt our relationship.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says gently, but firmly. “I want you to know that there is nothing that could hurt our relationship. You're my baby sister, I'm always going to love you.”

After months of keeping all your feelings bottled up, of denying your feelings for Chan, of dreading Minho’s reaction, you’ve felt a constant dread, guilt filling your insides. Now, you’re just filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s as if an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

It feels like you can breathe again.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[just-a-ghost00]

Who is your future spouse?

I'll be trying to get significant details about your spouse using 3 different decks. I'm not asking any specific question about looks or personality but rather just letting spirit guide us towards any detail they deem worthy of our attention. As this is a general reading, you may not resonate with every single detail but the general picture or overall vibe may speak to you to some level. For once, I decided to do 4 groups instead of 3.

Group 1

"I see grace and possibility in all of life's challenges." "There's no such thing as mistakes. Everything happens in divine order. I am being guided to learn and grow." "I accept the gifts I've been given as a high service to the world."

White Numen tarot : Queen of cups, 5 of swords, The Fool, knight of pentacles, 6 of cups

I don't care oracle : Take care of yourself, Close your curtains close your eyes sleep, Got a drink? Cheers! , Box with the pillow

Starting with the image you picked, I'm getting a strong message of using music and art in general as a form of escapism but also a mean of harmless self expression. Your FS may be struggling with a sense of loneliness that they are fighting off through a strong interest in any form of artistic expression. The bunny makes me think of innocence and creativity. The fact that it's a plushy makes me think of childhood and frailty. This passion that they have is something that stems from childhood and that has allowed them to hold on through hard times. I can't help but to be reminded of Stray Kids Lee Know when I look at this image. So maybe your FS has a similar personality or background to Lee Know's. Your FS could be a Kpop enthusiast. They could be an artist or enjoy doing art as their hobby. They are a rather sensitive and soft individual. They have a very comforting presence. There's a sadness to them that feels a little bittersweet.

They've been through a lot, not only romantic wise but also just on a personal level. Despite everything they've been through, they still have a lot of faith in the Universe and in mankind. With time, they've chosen to see their struggles as opportunities for growth and to cherish every experience that they get to live, even though some of them are uncomfortable because they're aware that in everything lies a blessing in disguise. They are very spiritual and they have a strong mindset gained through years of pain and struggle. They're an old soul and chances are that they have a lot of interesting stories to tell about their past.

Speaking of the past, you may share several past lives with this person. If you don't believe in this concept, you just may feel like you've known this person before when you've just barely met because they are so genuine and empathetic that it feels like they know you at your very core. For some of you, they could be a childhood friend. This person could also work with children or just be very popular with babies and kids. Another thing I am picking up on is that though this person is very mature and has gone through a lot, they look very innocent and youthful. Many people underestimate this person's age because of how childlike they may appear physically. Like, their skin is very soft and supple, they have no grey hair nor do they have wrinkles, they may be quite petite compared to other people of their age.

They've struggled with their mental health quite a lot. They're constantly thinking and bickering with their own self. They may be neurodivergent or struggle with a form of mental disorder. Another thing is that they have a very striking effect on people because they're hard to grasp. Their personality and the way they show up is so unique that they can't be categorized, "put into a box". This person just takes pride in not fitting, not conforming to any standard or norm. They don't like to be trapped in outdated perceptions of life and society. They are very protective of their freedom of expression. So chances are they have a very particular sense of style, a very specific way of expressing themselves in public, a particular posture that makes them stand out from other people. Like for example, they're the only person in their family that doesn't conform to gender norms. Actually I feel like the notion of gender isn't relevent to this person. However, they appear as quite feminine in their energy.

One thing that is very striking about them is how detached about material life they are. They do not care about possessions, wealth. This person is very generous and humble. They could give away their own clothes on a whim just to help someone else, buy a random person a meal just for the sake of making a good deed. They do random acts of kindness, not just with people they know but with anyone they come across. They give to charities, they leave food on the street for the homeless or for stray animals,they share important information on their socials in case it may be useful to someone. They're just really selfless. The reason behind that is because this person comes from a rather "poor" background. They know what it's like to be lacking something and they believe that any good deed done will come back to them. They have this mentality of not doing to others what they wouldn't appreciate themselves. So they're definitely not the kind to look down on other people or to hate on others.

This generosity can also be shown in their emotions and how they express themselves. They do not shy away from telling people they love them. They are very demonstrative and openly communicate their feelings, even though it makes them vulnerable. They wear their heart on their sleeve. They're incapable of lying. In connections, this person pours their heart out and they give their all. They're incredibly loving, kind, compassionate and patient. They show a lot of empathy and understanding towards others but they tend to be extremely harsh on themselves.

They struggle with a lot of anger issues as well as overthinking. They tend to burn themselves out thinking and worrying about others, helping other people to the detriment of their own health. They're in desperate need of love and rest and they have a hard time slowing down to focus on themselves. This person is not used to receiving and giving themselves the love that they willingly and selflessly give to others.

They're a cat lover. They may or may not own a pet cat. They have a cat like personality. They're more of an introvert but they tend to put on an extrovert façade to please others, especially their family and friends.

This person can be quite easily sociable with people however there aren't many people that they feel close to. In social settings, they tend to stay aside and only interact with the crowd here and there, out of politeness. They may struggle with the feeling of not belonging. They may feel like they do not fit in because of their unique sense of self and their strong morals. Again, I get strong neurodivergent vibes from this person but I also get a theme of cultural differences. This person may have grown in an environment where only a specific demographic was represented and they were the only source of diversity. Now that could mean all kinds of things but to give you an example maybe they grew up in a city where most people had fair skin and they were the only child with a different skin color. Or like maybe when they were a kid they were the only boy/girl when all the other kids were of the opposite biological sex.

Speaking of cultural differences, at the beginning of your reading, I had the impression that they lived in a different country than yours and that feeling is further confirmed with the spread. They could possibly have a similar background to yours but the only difference is that they grew up in a different setting. Like for instance, imagine two people that are both of European descent but one of them grew up in Spain while the other spent on the other side of the globe for some reason. Another thing I was picking up on was two people being born from two different ethnicities. So I feel like you and your future spouse will have a lot in common in the sense that you may have been through similar hardships in your life though you come from completely different areas of the globe. You could bond over things like : being the "black sheep" of the family, being the "generational curse breaker", being the "weird child" or the "rebellious child", being bullied in school because of your looks/sexual preferences/culture/religion or any form of difference that made you stand out, feeling like you don't belong, wanting to be someone else or somewhere else, feeling like you're not from this planet, having a weird interest in astrology and space facts, believing in ghosts and/or UFOs.

Group 2

"I communicate with ease and grace. People are willing to embrace what I have to say." "I welcome healthy, loving relationships." "I celebrate my progress. Awareness, not perfection, is the goal."

White Numen tarot : The Magician, 8 of wands, Queen of cups, King of wands, Ace of cups

I don't care oracle : Sorry not sorry, Spread the love, Yes! , Smile smile more even more!, You are not your emotions

This person is very chatty and an excellent communicator. They have a very eloquent speech and a beautiful voice that may be envied by many. They enjoy singing and whistling. They can easily talk anyone through anything. They have a bit of a snake charmer vibe. They're a smooth talker and many times got out of trouble because of that. They have a fascination for birds and/or their nickname revolves around a bird. I'm thinking of Woody Woodpecker, Tweety, Daffy and Donald Duck, Zazu, Iago. Like either that or they are named after a bird or compared to a specific bird. Specifically, there are peacock feathers depicted on the relationships card from the Spirit Junkie oracle. So peacocks could be relevant to this connection somehow. Either they get compared to a peacock because they tend to show off around potential partners or because they have a really flamboyant nature and attidude. They also could be compared to parots or phoenix.

This person exudes a lot of masculine energy. They may be depicted by other people as a playboy/playgirl, as a macho if they're perceived as a man or if they're perceived as a woman their feminism may not be well perceived by their peers. I feel like they get a lot of backlash from others and get wrongly accused of being so many things because of how unapologetically themselves they are. This person has a lot of self confidence and they have strong values. They draw a lot of attention but also a lot of envy and jealousy. They may be in the public eye.

They are extremely harsh with themselves and have perfectionist tendencies. They're a workaholic. They're extremely prideful and take a lot of pride in their accomplishments, especially on a professional level. They are the type to never regret a choice they make, even though people do not share their opinion on the matter because once they've set their mind on something it is very hard for them to change their perspective. They are incredibly stubborn but also incredibly resilient.

They are very popular and sociable, however they just don't let anybody in their close circle. This person has strong boundaries and they do not hold their tongue. They've put themselves in trouble more times than they can count because of their blunt approach. People around them may say that they are haughty or that they have no respect for their elders, that they do not take criticism well or that they are full of themselves. But the truth is this person is just very protective of their own space and they were raised in a background that taught them to always speak their mind when something doesn't feel right. They cannot stand injustice and you can be sure that this person will always stand up for what is right, no matter their differences with the people involved.

They have climbed the ladders of society through their hard work. They "came from nothing" and "became somebody" because of how dedicated they were to their craft. This earned them a lot of respect but also a lot of advantages and money. This person is now wealthy and leaving very comfortably but this wasn't the case when they were a child. They became so succesful that they may now be their own boss. They earned enough money to be able to open their own business or work independantly. If this person is an artist for instance, they fund their own work with their own money. They may own their own label or they're just a solo artist because they've gained enough of an audience and enough resources to be able to do so. This is just one example among many. They could be working freelance on different projects or own a brand of some sort. It could be anything really. If not that, then they have a higher status within their work environment compared to when they started.

For most of you, I feel like your FS is older than you. There's a stark contrast between you not only because of your age but also because of your maturity and life experience. I feel like you would be very intimidated by this person at first but also, because of everything I mentioned before, you may start off with a bad impression of them because of how other people depict them or gossip you may have heard. You could start off as rivals or "ennemies" so to speak. Also, I get the feeling that when you first meet them, you will think that they are disinterested in you or that they don't like you.

Despite their intimidating façade, this person is actually incredibly kind and loving. They are very sweet and sensitive, but they don't show that aspect of themselves to a lot of people. They have huge trust issues and they struggle with intimacy. They are hyper independant and they tend to repress their emotions, especially their sadness, through humor. They're the type of person that will act like a clown and make jokes to distract themselves and others from the fact that they are not okay. If you talk with this person and start to get deep by bringing up intimate subjects, they are likely to swiftly change the subject or disguise the truth by joking around. They may exagerate certain traits to make themselves appear stronger or cooler and take away the vulnerable aspects of the story. Let's say this person got into a fight and was hurt in the process. Maybe the true reason why they got into this fight was because they were drunk after breaking up with their past lover and a person's attitude didn't sit right with them in that specific setting. When they tell you the story, they may omit the fact they were at their lowest and emphasize how brave they were to stand up and interfere because a person twice their size was bothering another customer. That kind of thing.

This person has a problem with expressing their feminine side and showing emotion. They do not talk about themselves much or if they do, they always make sure it isn't too personal. They tend to mask a lot of their pain, a lot of their fears. They hide behind a mask to cover up for the fact that they are in truth really sensitive and insecure about themselves. I get the message that this person struggles with their feminine side because of a masculine figure in their life. Growing up, they were taught that they shouldn't cry or let people see their "weakness". They were taught that showing affection wasn't safe. They were criticized for their soft nature and had to become tougher with time to be able to make it through. Again, I get a neurodivergent vibe from this person, which is similar to group 1. Maybe you felt drawn to that group as well.

They are very passionate and invested in whatever is going on around them. I feel like they are very active political wise and that ties down to their issues with injustice. This person either does a lot of community work or advocates for a lot of causes. They may use their influence and means of communication to raise awareness around certain subjects. I'm specifically picking up on mental health issues and struggles surrounding one's body image, speaking up against racism, bullying, sexual harassment at work. They have a lot of love to give and a sensitive side to them that they don't get to express very often but when they are in such setting that is when they can truly be themselves and wear their heart on their sleeve. You may see this person's gaze light up when they talk about subjects that interest them, things that are dear to their heart. I see this person doing a lot of random acts of kindness but on the lowkey. Things that would go unnoticed or that wouldn't seem that grand but that actually matters. Like putting flowers on someone's grave even though they didn't know them as a proof that someone cares about their passing. Leaving anonymous positive notes in books that they borrow from the library so that the next person is comforted and knows that they matter. Silently watching over children on the streets to ensure that they are safe and no one bothers them. Taking away an object that may be a source of danger for others. Giving away personal belongings by living them in random spots for other people to find them. Pretending like they're clumsy to get two people that like each other to be physically closer in the hopes that it will get things started.

I feel like this person's main love language is acts of services but sometimes they may also express their love in funny/quirky ways or unusual ways. Here are some specific things I am picking up on : making a list of all the things you like so that they know what to do when you feel down or how to surprise you on a specific event, using your go-to words or catch phrases on you to make you smile or laugh, taking interest in the things you like and trying them out to the point of being very specific about it and knowing every detail of it so you don't feel like you're alone and they can better understand you even if it makes them uncomfortable, including you in the things they do by leaving very specific tasks up to you even though they are perfectly capable of doing it on their own because they know it makes you happy, anticipating your needs in ways you wouldn't expect by keeping certain tools or products in close vicinity just in case, mimicking your stance/ your walking pace or any trait that you may be feeling insecure about so that you feel less insecure about it, making sure that you are not being left out during any social interaction and bringing the focus back to you in case you were interupted, countering your every self criticism with a reason why that exact thing is actually a good thing, expressing their opinion of you and how they feel for you in indirect ways by talking about things you remind them of (characters in movies, songs, things that are meaningful to them like a loved one for instance).

Looking at the picture you picked, I get the message that this person values beauty and the aesthetic of things and people. They give a lot of importance to appearances. They could be into home decor and interior design. They could also be into fashion. They may collect a lot of objects because of their aspect. Especially statues, paintings, traditional objects from different countries, floral ornaments. They like scented candles and incense. There is a specific flower that this person likes or they could have been named after a flower. Or they could be born on Flower Day (May 20), Rose Day (February 7), Valentine's Day (February 14), Yellow rose day (May 14 in Korea). Or overall as most flowers bloom during Spring, this season may be their favorite or may have some significance to your connection. I'm not sure what the flower on the picture is, but its shape and color reminded me of blue Hydrangeas.

Group 3

"I release my need to be right. I am defenseless and at peace." "When I lead from a place of love people respect me." " I bring peace wherever I go." White Numen Tarot : Magician, queen of wands, Judgement, Sun, 3 of swords

I don't care oracle : Close your curtains close your eyes sleep, Stop doing so much, Infinity x Infinity , I'm not okay, I am always a child

This person loves animals. They are very popular with animals. They may want to own a pet but they may be allergic to pet fur or they just don't have the opportunity to have one because of their lifestyle. They can both embody a cat like and a puppy like energy. They are very balanced and can both embody feminine and masculine energy very well because they've done a lot of shadow work.

They grew up in an abusive household and/or have dealt with a lot of abuse in their life. This lead them to becoming "mature" too soon for their age. They had to parent themselves and now as an adult they may be described as immature by others because they didn't have the opportunity to do what other children usually do growing up. They had to deal with many responsibilities very early on in their life, either because their parents didn't show up the way they should have or because they left home pretty early on for various reasons. Because of that, they have a hard time letting go of the need to control and asking for help.

One of the ways this person copes with whatever issues they have is by being active. They have a lot of various interests and they look like they never rest. This person's schedule is packed and timed perfectly. They always got something to do, someone to talk to, something to work on. They may struggle with insomnia. One of the reasons why they keep themselves so busy is to cover up for the fact that they feel lonely and scared on their own.

This person looks for meaningful and deep connections. When they feel comfortable with people, they can rant for days about the things that they like and be very quirky but if they do not have a good impression of you they'll remain as cold as an iceberg and you'll never get to see their depth. One of the ways you will be able to tell that your FS likes you is that they will act differently depending on whether they're with you or someone else. They'll do things with you that they wouldn't do with others. Show you sides of themselves that no one has seen. This person including you in their bubble will be a huge sign of their affection and trust. Especially, you meeting their family will be a huge thing because I feel like no one has gotten that opportunity before.

They are very confident in themselves, especially when it comes to their work and studies. They can ace anything you leave up to them as long as they know they've got your trust and things are explicit. However, if they feel like you're being shady or that you doubt them, this person's productivity will be affected dramatically. They struggle with impostor syndrom. They're also very quick to judge characters and they tend to have a strong intuition. So whenever this person tells you that they have a bad feeling about something, they are likely to be right.

They do not realize it bu they hold more power than they think and they are more popular than what they expect. This person is so humble that it would never cross their mind to put themselves forward and talk about their accomplishments. This is because of their upbringing. This person was lead to believe that they were not important and that no matter their achievements or efforts, they would never be enough to be taken seriously. Honestly this person has been through so much in their life that it's a miracle they still find the drive to carry on with a smile on their face. They are incredibly strong and admirable but they would never think that of themselves. They are their own worst enemy and critic. They don't like to be the center of attention but no matter what they do they just cannot escape it.

I feel like right away in your connection, you will intuitively feel very drawn to this person and very early on realize that they are your FS. Their will be something about their eyes that will immediately spark your interest. And everytime you will look into this person's eyes, you will not be able to hold their gaze because of the intensity of what you feel when looking at them. This may be something that they tease you about later on in your connection. I also pick up on a setting or an action that is unusual when you meet them. There will be something that will set you off about this person or maybe you will do something that they are not used to. And that will be the spark that ignites the whole thing. The reason I am saying that is because on the "I am always a child" card, the character depicted is walking barefoot on the street and one of their foot is in the mud. They are very neetly dressed and yet, without a care in the world, they are risking getting all dirty and being laughed at. It looks a bit out of place or out of the ordinary. Here are some things I am picking up on that maybe will speak to you : being the only person that didn't follow the dresscode at a party, walking up the stairs with a bunch of heavy grocery bags when you could have used the elevator, being the only person in the gym that sings to their workout playlist and gets hyped up while everyone else is just quietly sweating it out, being the only person that dares to talk back to the other or makes a comment about a specific touchy subject, being the only person to actually be educated about a specific topic that they're interested into while the others just have a surface level understanding of it, not showing them any sign of interest when other people are desperately trying to get their attention.

Looking at the picture you chose, this person could live by an important body of water. This could also be a sign that they are a very emotional individual. They may be into water sports like surfing, swimming, scuba diving. They could enjoy fishing. They may eat a lot of sea food. When travelling, they may prefer warm places such as islands over the country side or places like mountains. They may prefer Summer over other seasons.

Group 4

"My high vibe thoughts create health in my body, peace in my mind and love in my heart." "Let me be still today and listen to the truth in silence." "The more I honor my inner light the more I brighten the world. I choose to shine."

White Numen tarot : King of wands, 9 of wands, 7 of wands, knight of pentacles, 5 of pentacles

Sorry not sorry, Turn your tongue 7 times in your mouth before you speak, I've got super powers, Tomorrow is another day, Don't be fooled by my appearance my soul is resplendent

Based on your picture, the first thing I pick up on is that you may firstly interact with this person at a distance, either being penpals or through social media/dating apps. The picture also gives me a feeling of nostalgia. This may be someone that you reconnect with after a long time being a part. Daisies is the birth flower of people born in April. So it could be your or their birth month, or you could meet during this month. This person could be a childhood friend or your relationship could start of as friends and evolve into something more over time. I also can't help but to think of Disney's Daisy and Princess Daisy from the Mario lore. So your person gives off a very innocent vibe upon first glance but they turn out to be stronger and smarter than they appear. Though people may think of them as superficial, frail or shallow they are actually have a lot more depth and are very sensitive. This person may tend to be underestimated or overlooked, people may wrongly assume their character because of the way they look. Which feels a bit similar to group 2's person's energy so maybe you felt drawn to that group as well.

Your FS is a very spiritual person and they developped that spirituality through hardships and adversity. They possibly dealt with bullying as a child. This person was lead to believe that they didn't deserve affection, care, help. They spent most of their life being on their own and having to protect themselves because the adults around them where not creating a safe space for them. They have huge trust issues and are hyper independent. They do not know how to ask for help and do everything by themselves. They're the type of person that wants to be recognized solely for their skills and hard work. If someone were to help them or gift them something, they would think that they are not worthy of it because they haven't worked for it or earned it. Their notion of value is distorted because of the way they were raised as a child.

They are originally a very bright and cheerful person but life turned them into a bitter and cold person. Many times in their life, they were shown aspects of humanity that made them lose faith and hope. They were constantly lied to, disregarded, manipulated. People abused their kindness and generosity, treated them badly under the disguise of friendship or love. This person grew to believe that love wasn't meant for them. So when you meet them, they'll likely avoid you and run away from you at first. They'll have a hard time believing that your feelings for them are genuine and they may keep you at arms length for quite a while.

They fear intimacy. This will show in their distate for physical touch and public displays of affection. In their constant need for space and independance, for control within the relationship. Ironically, though they need a lot of space and free range of action, they will show a lot of possessiveness and jealousy especially if you are separated. This connection really gives me ennemies to lovers vibe. They will hate to love you and love to hate you. The beginning stages of your relationship may be quite rocky because of this person's fears and issues. However, because they will be very attached to you and protective over you they will understand the need for them to heal those aspects of their personality for you connection to be healthy and lasting. This is also because they have a strong sense of responsibility and want to be perceived in a good light by their loved ones.

This person is very charismatic and sensual. Chances are that a lot of eyes will be on them and a lot of people will want to pursue them, even while you are dating. They face a lot of envy and jealousy generally speaking but they will face even more adversity once they are with you. Which could interfere in your connection. There will be a lot of gossip about you, especially career wise. People in their work sphere specifically will not understand why your dynamic is working when you seem so different from one another. This will stem mostly from a lack mindset. Even their family could get involved in the drama. Since this person is very popular and likely succesful in their work, people may say things like you could be a threat to their reputation or question your motives for dating this person.

Even though their attraction for you will be very clear and obvious, this person will do everything in their power to ignore it and resist the pull to the point where it may look completely crazy to you and ridiculous. You may think "why is such a mature person acting in such a childish way, this is so unlike them". They'll make choices and actions that you will not understand and could attempt to sabotage the connection. But the more they will try to run away from you the closer they're gonna get because the Universe will not be having any of their BS and you won't either. Every time they will try to ignore or avoid you, they will be reminded of you or forced to face you in some type of way. This person could be trying to flirt with other people to forget about you, they may even straight up date another person thinking that you would disappear from their life. But the people they will interact with will be very similar to you or coincidentally they will be in your circle. If this person is working in a similar occupation, circumstances will have them working with you. They could choose to move out in a new location thinking they would avoid you but it turns out that you frequently go to that place because a family member lives nearby or your doctor's office is located in the same street. If you are a parent, maybe their kid goes to the same school as yours. And so on and so forth. Every time they turn on the radio, they'll hear songs that remind them of you. They'll see or hear your name quite often or will be confronted with something you like every day.

Specifically, I pick up that this person could be a coffee addict but maybe the way they like their coffee is very different to yours and this may be something you passionately debated on. They also have a thing for plants and flowers. They wear glasses or they have a bad eyesight. You could have "argued" about being too blunt and not knowing how to read the room. I don't know why I keep writing in past tense. Maybe for some of you that's a confirmation you already know this person. If that isn't your case, maybe this will be something that happens later on in your connection. I really get the feeling that something about this person will just get on your nerves when you first meet. Like the way they talk or how they dress. Maybe the setting in which you meet will give you a wrong impression of this person. Especially if a lot of people are badmouthing them and spreading false rumors about them.

This person is a loner. They spend most of their time alone, either at work or in their personal life. They are very guarded and introverted. They barely leave their home unless it's very important. They may have a fear of crowds and enclosed spaces. However, when they are able to trust someone they are very kind and giving, a total opposite of what people may depict them as. They have a very healing presence that stems from all the hardships they faced over time. This person uses their own experience to help people heal and expand. They could be a therapist, a reiki practitioner, someone that uses alternative medicine like herbology, crystal healing and such.

They have a lot on their plate. They struggle with mental health issues and it isn't something they openly talk about with anyone. However, if this person sees someone going through hardships, they will be the first one to reach out and provide help and support. This person believes in the law of attraction and also in fate. They know when to pay attention to the details which could also explain why they are so succesful in life but people may not see that side of them and just belive that your FS has it easy because of their wealth, their background, their looks. When in reality, this person is the most hardworking individual you'll ever know. And when you get to see that side of them, you will really admire and respect them.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

��itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns  as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt. 

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.” 

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[k-hotchoisan]

how to tame a brat tamer

<wooyoung x fem!reader>

where Wooyoung teaches his brat how to tame a brat at her request

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, one shot, brat taming her brat tamer, light use of whip, dom!Wooyoung lets reader play with him, WOOYOUNG IS TIED UP, teasing, unprotected sex, light bondage (from m to f), breeding, semi-rough sex, wooyoung is snarky and he teases reader, light whipping/slapping, shoving with foot, cumming in underwear, thigh whipping, this is just pure fucking filth.

a/n: I’ve been so down bad for Sylus from love & deep space….. & this fic is very loosely based on this card (pls rngesus let me get this card) so I felt like I should share with the class 😔 (Also dear fucking god Sylus. I’ve been so preoccupied with him that I’m slowly going deranged)

w/c: 2.8k

taglist here❤️

“Such a fuckin cute look you have on your face now.”

Wooyoung stares up at you, his thick lips pulled to a smirk, jet black strands of his curtain bangs falling to his face, his foxy eyes narrowed with taunt, and his white dress shirt down three buttons. 

“I don’t recall letting you speak, Jung Wooyoung”, you say disapprovingly, forcefully lifting his chin with the whip. 

Wooyoung’s smile only grows wider. He looks amused. 

“Can’t help it. You look cute when you’re trying to play with me like this.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, and you let the whip trail lightly down his chin, down his throat, to his collarbone, and you hear him groan slightly from the light touches of the leather piece. That’s giving you a burst of confidence at least. 

Unfortunately, you’re still internally gawking at the way Wooyoung has his hands tied behind his back with the bondage ropes he used on you, kneeling before you like a good boy. Even in this state, Wooyoung still looks so fucking good. 

When you put up the proposal of letting you brat tame him, Wooyoung had his eyebrow raised at your request. Initially, he almost jumps to decline your offer, but something at the back of his mind somehow convinced him to let you do it. Maybe it was the way you towered over him when you did it, in your pretty little short nightgown—that barely covered your bare pussy—you know Wooyoung can’t keep his eyes and hands off. Maybe it was the thought of Wooyoung wanting to try something new in the bedroom—and it sounded enticing to him. 

Of course, he showed you the ropes, teaching you the basics. And when he least expected it, you pounced on him. 

So now, he’s tied up, kneeling before you, smiling up at you. He thinks you’re so cute trying your best. 

You close the distance between the both of you, the whip back on his cheek once more, his head tilted back, eyes downcast on you, his smile not faltering. 

Well, that is, until you’re slapping his cheek repeatedly with the leather whip that his smile fades, and his brows furrow. His eyes grow sharper with irritation. 

His voice drops an octave. 

“I don’t think doing that is a smart move, sweetie. You’re gonna regret it.”

Suddenly you’re feeling more courageous that he’s unable to do anything to you, for now, at least. 

It’s your turn to smile back at him. He’s looking at you like a predator. 

Then you remove the whip. Using one hand, your fingers easily unbutton the rest of his dress shirt. You could just freely pull his shirt off now. 

But you opt not to, instead, your whip replaces your fingers, the soft leather trailing agonisingly slow from his abdomen up north. You hear him groan, and he jolts slightly when the leather grazes his clothed nipple. 

God, he’s getting so fucking hard from this. 

He looks at you intently, ignoring the tight erection tugging against his pants.

“Is this your way of flirting?” Wooyoung questions, his gaze playful, yet taunting. 

“Maybe. You’ve always known my favourite hobby is riling you up.”

Wooyoung’s small smile slowly grows into a smirk. “Of course, sweetie.”

Your body tingles with anticipation whenever he calls you that. It makes you subconsciously lick your lips. It makes you want to maybe obey him. It makes you want to want to go down on your knees for him, and let him do whatever he wants with you. But when your eyes rake over his chest heaving with weight under you as he tugs slightly against the taut ropes binding his wrists, you remember that at least for now, you’re in control.

Your finger trails up his jaw and your thumb strokes gently against his chin. You watch him take a deep breath while he shuts his eyes, letting your painfully slow and soft strokes send electricity down his spine and right to his cock. Then you finally shift your thumb to his bottom lip. He instinctively parts his lips as an invitation to slip your thumb in, but you don’t. You keep your thumb on his lip, rubbing, teasing him, knowing his eyes would flutter open and his eyes would reflect frustration when he doesn’t get his way. Was this the type of thing Wooyoung gets off from? Depriving you of what you wanted? You hated to admit it, but when it was your turn to take his role, it was undeniable that the appeal dangled over you like a sweet treat. 

The smile on your lips grows wider. You’re getting addicted to this feeling. 

“You look so fucking cute when you’re pouty like this, Jung Wooyoung, even when your cock is just begging to be let out.”

Fuck. Wooyoung really trained you a little too well.  

“It takes a brat to tame a brat”, he would say. Of course, who else could have been a more perfect fit for him than you? 

Wooyoung doesn’t reply to you. His panting is growing slightly heavier, his wrists being decorated with imprints from the ropes—a clear indication that he’s growing more antsy. He wants to pounce on you so fucking bad. His mind is flooded with the want to tie you up, to make sure he breaks you at his own sick pace, but undoubtedly, the way you’re treating him right now is making him grow so needy and desperate, and he fucking loves it. 

And when you stand up, looming over him, his heartbeat is loud in his ears. Your foot drags up his bare abdomen that peeked out of his unbuttoned shirt, watching him wince slightly at the touch and suck his teeth as your foot travels up his body, grazing his nipple before stopping just below his collarbone. 

His eyes are locked onto yours, entranced and anticipating your next move. 

Even though he has guesses about your next move, it still takes him by surprise.

With much force, you shove him with your foot, enough for him to tumble back and he falls back onto the floor. Your heart is racing, wondering if you’ve gone too far, ready to break the character when he remains still. But when you hear him mutter curses under his breath before he turns to you with a shit-eating smirk, you know you’re fucked in the best ways possible. 

You get onto the ground, climbing over Wooyoung, straddling his thighs, the wet patch staining his pants not going unnoticed by you. 

“I expected you to be rougher with me, sweetie. You know we both like it rough.”

A smack to his upper thighs with the whip, and you’re rewarded with a strained groan that passes his lips, his eyes roll back and shut slightly from the sudden impact, accompanying his jerk. 

“Is that rough enough for you, baby?” You ask, tone laced with condescension, your fingers catching his jaw, forcing him to face you. 

“Definitely took me by surprise, sweetie”, Wooyoung manages to reply, his eyes trailing down to your lips for a quick second, wetting his with his tongue. 

You lean in closer to him, letting your lips ghost over his, and Wooyoung’s breathing speeds up. 

He’s craving for touch—any touch from you, and his patience thins out even more when you pull back with a smile, knowing you denied what he wanted. 

You hear him cuss under his breath, one reflecting frustration. You know he’s turning restless. 

“Do you want me to touch you, Wooyoung?”

“You really should”, is his answer. 

You raise an eyebrow, another smack to his thighs making him shiver again.

“That’s not how you ask, babe”, you remind him. 

His stare bores a hole in your head, but you’re not relenting. You’re having a little too much fun. 

“Touch me, please”, he mutters. “Need you to touch me so fucking bad.”

The smile you’re so poorly suppressing feeds into your ego. But well…

“Wasn’t so hard was it?” You hum, settling the whip down beside you so you could let your hands wander across his body—his bare abdomen, his chest, his nipples, watching him squirm and sigh when you’d graze over them. 

Feeling kind, your fingers are back to his jaw—soft strokes to his bottom lip, prying them open with your thumb, before you lean in for a wet kiss. You shift slightly, making sure you’re seated just above his thick erection, his body reacting with a jerk while he gives into the kiss. 

He feels so fucking good against you like this. His kisses grow sloppy and desperate, wanting to taste every part of your mouth before you take it away from him again. 

You grind your hips against him, listening to him grunt against your lips every time his clothed cock is stimulated. 

In between kisses, he mutters through half-lidded eyes and with a low voice. 

“You’re not playing fair, sweetie. I’m warning you.”

You only smile against his lips, another thrust, which makes Wooyoung bite his tongue, trying to hold the feeling off. Unfortunately, he knows it’s hopeless when his tip is just being rubbed and grazed, over and over again. You pull your lips back, tilting his head back with your index finger, mimicking the orgasm that’s slowly washing over your partner, his cock’s soft pulses against your bare pussy, and you’ve shamelessly stained his trousers with your own glistening arousal at that feeling. 

Wooyoung nuzzles against your neck, trying to hide his thinning patience. 

“I think you’ve had your fill, sweetie. Now, be a good girl and untie me, please?” 

You know that’s not a good idea. Not when he’s sounding more feral by the second, despite the softness that remains in his voice. 

You free him from the ropes.

Wooyoung’s arms immediately wrap around your hips. He lifts you from your thighs, turning to the bed and dropping you onto the fluffy sheets. You watch with glazed eyes as he trap you with his legs on each side, then he rubs his wrists, seemingly to soothe the imprints. 

“Good job on your first attempt trying to brat tame me, baby”, he says, but you can’t tell if the compliment is genuine. 

You continue to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, the anticipation gliding through your veins. Wooyoung’s gaze has slightly turned dark, and the both of you know how unpredictable he can get. 

“But now it’s my turn to have fun, don’t you think?” Wooyoung asks rhetorically, removing his shirt off his shoulders, knowing his bare body has you on the verge of drooling in seconds. He forces you to watch him unbutton his pants, slightly sighing when the pants are off, and you can’t help but gasp at the sight—the fabric of his underwear wet and translucent—some of his cum stains both the inside and out of his underwear. But it’s clear that he’s still thick and hard, and ready for seconds. 

He places his finger between your breasts, and he lets it slowly trail down south. Even though you’re still covered by the nightgown, well, barely, it still sends sparks up your spine and goosebumps across your skin when he passes by your stomach, down to your pelvis, and he stops right at your pussy. 

“Oh, now that I’m untied and above you, suddenly you’re cowering?” He teases. “Where’s my bold baby gone to?”

His fingers slip under the opening of your shirt nightgown, and it’s taking everything in him to not just destroy you when he’s reminded you’re not wearing panties underneath. 

Wooyoung circles your clit slowly, rubbing and pressing against it from time to time, and it makes your breathing grow more shallow. You force yourself to keep your legs open, knowing fully well that he’d trained you to keep them open when he decides to play with your pussy.

“If I’d known you’d get this excited when you’re playing with me like this, I should let you do it often”, Wooyoung mutters, his free hand sliding the thin straps of your nightgown off your shoulders. He’s enjoying watching you squirm, the way you’re subtly clawing against the sheets, the way your thighs are trembling slightly from the pleasure.

“But there’s only so much patience I have.”

Every time your thighs are about to snap shut, Wooyoung holds them apart and punishes you by edging. It’s driving you nuts.

“No. Keep them open for me.”

You whine defiantly, your thighs resisting against his unmoving muscled arms. 

“I can’t take it. I wanna be fucked now”, you frown. 

“Then beg for it, sweetie”, Wooyoung instructs, his fingertips drawing slow and light circles, knowing it’s enough to edge you. 

“Good girls beg for what they want.” 

You had it coming, honestly, and despite all of that, you would do it all over again. You bite your lip. 

“Please”, you whimper. “Fuck me, make a mess out of me, do anything you want with me, Wooyoung.”

The smile that pulls on Wooyoung’s lips matches the overflowing lust that’s gleaming in his eyes. You’re reminded well who’s really in charge here, and it sends tingles down your spine. 

“Seems I really spoiled you rotten, hm?” Wooyoung taunts, lining up his cockhead and lowering to your pulsing hole. 

“You’re lucky I adore you-“

—and he pushes his cock into you, watching the way you gasp and the way your back arches slightly. 

“And a request to make a mess out of you? Gladly.”

He groans. 

“Fuck. Even when I just fucked you dumb the other night, your pussy is just so fucking warm and tight.” 

You blink back the tears, feeling his cock dragging along your walls, pleasure just shooting through every nerve when he’s stuffed you full. 

“Obviously it wasn’t enough, was it?” 

The glint in Wooyoung’s eyes grows more feral. 

“Playing cute with me even my cock is making you dumb huh?”

His hands grab both your wrists, pining them above you, rendering you completely helpless before him.

With that satisfaction, he pulls back, before plunging back into you, giving you little to adjust before he’s completely thrusting into you, over and over, listening and watching you choke on your moans, mess up your pretty mascara with your tears, feeling the way you’re forced to take Wooyoung’s cock raw in your pussy like his good girl, cream and slick just piling over at the base of his cock, some seeping past your spent folds. 

“Wooyo-“ your voice is strained—your thighs are twitching from the pleasure, your pussy feeling so perfectly abused by his fat dick. “It’s too much—“

“You begged for it, so fucking take it, sweetie”, he curtly reminds you, offhandedly admiring the way your tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Jung Wooyoung”, your moans are pathetic and loud. The sounds of wet squelching and slapping make it all the more perverted, and boy, were you and Wooyoung eating it up. 

“I’m fucking cumming. Fuck! That feels so fucking good—“

Wooyoung’s free hand has your chin in his palm, forcing you to look up at him in your fucked out and giddy ecstasy. 

The knot snaps, and you completely fall apart with your orgasm rushing into your veins, your pussy convulsing uncontrollably around his cock and your vision turning white paired with your screams of Wooyoung’s name on your lips, over and over. 

His grip on your fingers loosens, because he drags your thighs towards him, making sure his cock goes impossibly further into your pussy, grunting at the way you’re pretty much choking his cock. 

“That’s it, baby. Ready to milk me out?”, he asks, feeling himself slowly reaching his high soon. 

He knows you’re twitching and crying, and all the more he adores fucking the ever loving shit out of you, because he stills himself, and makes sure your pussy takes in every single drop of his thick cum in you. 

Wooyoung catches his breath, his mind still hazy from the orgasm, and he slowly pulls out, the whines and sobs from you sounding like music to his ears while he watches his thick white leak out of your tight hole. 

When you’re back to sobbing, twitching and leaking mess that Wooyoung enjoys turning you into, he’s satisfied. 

He retrieves the ropes from the floor. 

“I thought it was real cute of you, sweetie, knowing how to get me hot and bothered, making me go on my knees for you”, Wooyoung adds, taking both your wrists. Through your teary vision, it doesn’t take you long realise he’s binding your wrists together with said rope. 

Oh, you’re so fucked. 

Wooyoung’s fingers creep under your chin, forcing your head to tilt up to meet his gaze which swarms with his twisted desires. 

 “I guess you need a reminder of who’s the real brat here, hm?”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @vic0921 @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @wlv-asteria @s-h-y-a @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @yuyusgirl @jwnghyuns @everythingboutkpop @skz1-4-3 @skteezcursed @minalizasworld @seomisaho @tunafishyfishylike

❤️ sylus bonus ❤️

[acid-ixx]

Okay, how about we call Alfred dad??? Sense he raised us and practically is our dad. Sorry I keep on asking. I just am a thinker

series masterlist

a/n: don't be sorry for asking ! i like answering asks even if i do answer really slowly, so don't be afraid to send in questions ! this is a continuation to this ask.

it would actually be a given that if the reader wasn't too broken to the point that they genuinely could never consider anyone as a father figure, then alfred would be someone they would call their dad.

because at least in their 15 years they had been inside the manor, alfred would always be the one who would stand by their side. even if it's not always, he would be there for you when he could. and that effort alone is enough to consider him worthy as your father.

pre-yandere bruce wouldn't even know of your tight-knit relationship with alfred; calling him dad when you skip through the halls with him, calling him your "actual father" whenever you two would bake together, and even going as far as gifting him a mug with 'no. 1 dad!' painted sloppily into the ceramic. alfred would even teach you how to crochet, so you two would get matching sweaters for winter. although alfred wouldn't wear the sweater for the sake of formality, you would always be aware that he stores them somewhere safe and warm as some sort of treasure.

so, imagine just how heartbroken bruce would be once you are abducted by your family, calling out to your dad in your drugged state on your bed, bruce thinking that it was him that you're calling for help when all of a sudden, you make grabby-hands towards alfred, eyes hazily looking at the butler with such desperation that it feels like alfred is your actual father.

seeing you two act so close, bruce would be so, so conflicted. because at least, in the years of solitude you had spent, you find comfort in the very same man bruce considers as his father figure. but at the same time it should've been him that you call your father, it should've been bruce you look at for help and guidance, it should've been him that lulls you back to sleep, wiping the tears that run down your face.

it breaks his heart even further once he discovers all the little trinkets that you make for alfred, all the inside jokes you two share, the gifts you cherish in your cabinets from the apartment you used to live in; they were all from alfred— bruce wants to kick himself realizing that he never made an effort to gift you anything in your 15 years of living in the manor as a ghost.

bruce swears on his life that he'll make it up to you, that despite him being unable to stay the night frequently with you that he'll make it up during the day. he'll take you to business meetings, to arcades, to malls; literally anywhere to get you to bond with him as much as you did alfred.

he'll schedule holidays where the entire family is required to join and you'll be the center of attention. your birthdays will be extravagant, he would spend millions to make a show that you're his favorite child; that means he'll spoil you with gifts that pertain to your hobbies. and because your family loves you so much, please do expect a minimum of 10 gifts prepared by all your siblings and a credit card with no limit for bruce.

oh? you don't need material things? don't worry, you'll be surprised with just how meticulously your father would plan for vacations. any place you would choose would be taken into heavy consideration, even planning with him would feel like some sort of father-child bonding.

but really, he'll commit all his time and effort for you.

bruce would do everything to make you consider him as your dad.

[miyacults]

jjk men + where they keep a picture of you.

gojo, geto, nanami, megumi, yuuji.

cw: this is based off this trend! fully sfw. just wholesome talk about these guys looking at pictures of you everyday to lighten their day up <3 (or to mess with you, in gojo’s case)

⊹˚₊⭒ GOJO has recently picked up the habit of taking the absolutely most ridiculous pictures of you ever since Yuuji and the rest of the kids gifted him a Polaroid camera for his birthday. He even started to gather them up in a photo album he proudly shows to anyone who visits your home, and this alone would be just lovely, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re fully asleep, or unshowered, or in the middle of sneezing, or eating—in all of them! He claims his favorite is one he took while you were actively arguing about him not taking out the trash the night before, so he decided that it was a great idea to capture the Polaroid with his phone and put it as your contact photo and the wallpaper to his laptop.

⊹˚₊⭒ GETO owns a big house and is the proud father of two precious twin girls, so the walls of his living room and a few tables are filled with picture frames of Nanako and Mimiko growing up and of course—of you, too. He loves the sense of familiarity and warmth it brings to his house, turning it into a home and making him feel whole. Geto also loves keeping pictures on his nightstand, sometimes he even go as far as to writing sweet notes in the back of them, declaring his love for you or how proud he is of the girls.

⊹˚₊⭒ NANAMI is a classic man, so of course he keeps a picture of you in his—very expensive, very posh—wallet. He really isn’t much a tech-like guy, as he prefers simple things and wishes to have a simple life, so he’s not one to be on his phone constantly. He doesn’t even use mobile payment regularly, instead prefers taking his multiple cards out of his wallet every time he’s purchasing something—hence why he put a little picture of you in there to be looking at him all the time. He also made sure to put one of both of you over his desk at work.

⊹˚₊⭒ MEGUMI’s favorite hobby is actually taking pretty pictures of you (unlike Gojo)—so you’re clearly the wallpaper on his phone. He has a whole folder dedicated to you, with your name and a little ‘<3’ next to it, and it’s flooded with images of you blowing him a kiss, eating and laughing on your weekly date nights, sparring with Yuuji and shopping with Nobara, and so much more. He’s the type to take out his phone any chance he gets to photograph anything you’re doing at anytime.

⊹˚₊⭒ YUUJI has a locket necklace with a picture of you and Todou in it… but it wasn’t really his choice to begin with. It was actually a Christmas gift from Todou himself, and Yuuji was really close to throw it away when his besto friendo opened it and showed him the smiley picture of you in the right side of the necklace. He grew very accustomed to it since that, but Choso’s been bothering him to get a new one where he appears ever since.

2024 © miyacults. Do not copy or plagiarize any of my work or share it in other social media platforms.

[rottiens]

⊹ synopsis. . as your beloved husband, it is his duty to indulge you in your fantasies. even in the unspoken ones. ⊹ tags. . (18+), husband nanami x reader with female anatomy (no pronouns used), petnames (honey), suggestive, dirty talk, finger sucking, reader has a hands kink. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Discreetly you glance back, your eyebrows raise unconsciously and your heart does that unusual throbbing that you hadn't experienced in a long time in Kento's presence, at least since you got married. You didn't want to admit that married life had tempered a bit the passion of the early years, when your hands couldn't be still standing next to each other, when you struggled to control your restless gaze and burning cheeks because you had to share the same team for a mission with your boyfriend. On the other hand, Kento was always more reserved, more serious. When asked if you were dating, he would simply say it was no one's business, although his cheekbones would change color every time someone mentioned your name.

After you left school behind, graduated as sorcerers and began accepting special grade missions, Kento and you talked about your relationship and how you saw yourselves together for much longer, starting a family, growing plants together and perhaps enjoying a quieter hobby that didn't involve exorcising curses. The two of you considered joining a book club or visiting the countryside on weekends.

Then one day he dropped one of his knees to the ground and handed you the beautiful ring that now decorates your finger, physically sealing a union to which you were both long committed: it has been exactly four years and three months since the wedding that only close people and family members attended. Since then you have kept a low profile, you had accepted married life and the everyday life it brought with it, although that didn't mean you had stopped loving Kento like the first day —on the contrary—, it meant seeing him every day and extinguishing a little of that adolescent spark that once burned you from inside every time you spent more than three days away from each other.

However, since a couple of weeks that spark had come back to life hungrier than ever and it's not until now that you find out why.

The sound of the paper sliding under your husband's fingers is soothing to you. Kento does this almost every night: reading a book, sometimes even reading aloud to you until you fall asleep. His glasses rest on the tip of his nose, his bare chest rises and falls like the waves of the sea, and he's wearing gray pajama pants. You've watched this scene so many nights that you've learned to recognize the meaning when his brow furrows or when he pouts as he immerses himself in rich reading. At this moment, as he sometimes does, he gently caresses your calf, sending shivers along your limb, generating fluttering heartbeats in your chest and between your legs.

Kento turns another page and calls out to you, "Honey," without looking away from the book. The timbre of his voice draws you to him. "Are you okay?" he asks again, now watching you with wrinkles in his forehead that denote concern.

"I'm fine," you assure him without maintaining eye contact. "Can't I enjoy the sight of my handsome husband while he reads?" The word "husband" draws a smile on his face, causing the corners of his mouth to turn up. You only need to utter that one word to have him completely captivated.

"I'm almost done," he announces as he dives back into reading.

You gulp. It's his hands, you suddenly recognize. The realization hits you in the forehead. There's something in the way his thumb runs across the page, something in how his open hand holds the back of the book, in his thumb tapping the cover and then bringing it to his mouth to play with his lip. It all gets your bloodstream pumping adrenaline.

The thought makes you run away from the scene like a teenager in love. At first you were in total denial, hands? How could you tell him that his hands turned you on, wouldn't that be weird? However as the days go by you find it harder to control it and make it go unnoticed, you find yourself looking at them when Kento takes your hand to go outside, when he holds the steering wheel of the car, you find yourself squeezing your legs when his fingers tighten around the watering can to water the plants and the worst of all, when he cooks.

Now, as he finishes decorating the cake, he was wearing those black jeans that were your favorite, along with a brown shirt that had the first two buttons open, leaving part of his collar exposed. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to his elbows. You couldn't help but stare at him in fascination, feeling the saliva pool in your mouth.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" The question sneaks in among your swarm of thoughts, and you stop yourself from watching him work to stare into his eyes that don't look at you.

"I know," you reply simply, which elicits a purr of approval from him.

"Want to try?" He abruptly changes the subject, but still, encouraged, you nod your head. With his index finger and thumb, Kento pinches a small piece of cake and brings it up to your mouth. You stretch your neck to catch his fingers, and the taste of vanilla and cream glides over your tongue. Even after swallowing Kento doesn't withdraw his fingers, and you don't move either.

The playful thumb, still with traces of cream, reaches just beyond your lips to meet your tongue. Your eyes widen as red alarms go off in your mind and your thighs press against each other.

"My hands, hm?" it catches you in mid-act, unable to move, your body turning to stone in the middle of the kitchen. "What's so special about them?"

"I-I…"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Kento purrs as he pushes a little further, the pad of his thumb massaging your tongue in small circles spreading the sweet taste on it. "Suck it, I know this is what's been filling your mind." And you do, closing your eyes at his command, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as Kento begins to fuck your mouth. "I can't believe you didn't comment to me about this little kink of yours, it offends me even." You groan, unable to look him in the eye, succumbed to the feeling of fighting for your dignity or surrendering to pleasure. "Maybe you need me massaging your thighs, maybe you want them around your neck… playing with your tits or maybe I need to make you watch my thick fingers go in and out of you, my thick veins standing out in my hands as I pump my fingers inside that wet pussy." You whimper, Kento laughs. "I guess I'll have to cancel my dinner tonight, I need to get each and every thought you've had with my hands out of that pretty head of yours while you comment on what it is you like so much about them."

[loveritas]

anypov જ cw: hints of pseudocest જ wc: 561

Caleb.

He had always been there, like your own personal shadow, a knight in shining armour you’d joke as kids. The one person who made sure you were never alone. From the moment you’d been taken in together, he’d taken you under his wing and kept you there...For protection? Perhaps, if not a little for possession...

When you were younger, he made sure no one picked on you at school. If someone so much as looked at you wrong, Caleb was there, standing just a little too close, his voice low and even as he scared them off with nothing more than a few well-placed words. You never even had to ask; he just knew when you needed him.

You never felt like you were an obligation with him, or that he was forcing himself to spend time with you. He encouraged you to take up the same hobbies, his favourite music, comics, video games, anything it was, he’d happily bond with you over it if you wanted to.

Similarly, he’d do the same for you. You’d mention something and it would stay in his brain, he’d learn all about your hobbies and fixations, just so you’d have someone to share it with. Your smile whenever he’d show interest was always worth it to him, the image framed permanently in his mind.

It was sweet, the way he was always there.

But then you got older and it didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse.

Every time you got close to someone, Caleb had something to say. A subtle comment, a warning laced with just enough truth to make you doubt. “I heard he’s a player.” - “He’ll just use you.” - “Heard some real bad things about that one.”. Sometimes he didn’t even need to say anything, just a glance, a tight-lipped expression, and suddenly, you were second-guessing everything.

And if that didn’t work? He found other ways.

He pulled you aside at a party, fingers closing a bit too firmly around your wrist as he leant down and whispered, “You're not really into him, are you?” His voice was gentle, nearly teasing, but there was something underneath. Something darker.

“You trust me, don't you?”

It was a stupid question, of course you did, you always had, probably would forever more.

You always looked up to him, he knew best and it allowed him to draw you back into the protection of his presence, allowed him to remind you—over and over—that no one would ever know you the way he did, take care of you the way he does.

As you stepped out into the evening chilly air Caleb's arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side. His warmth seeped into you, always so comforting and grounding, even now when there was a hidden undercurrent of something else

"Let's go home, parties’ not all that great-" he whispered, as he pressed a small gentle kiss to the top of your head.

It should have been nothing. A brotherly thing. A habit formed over the years.

But the way his lips lingered—just a second too long, inhaling your scent a little—had you mind racing, and a subtle warmth running along your skin.

You didn’t look up at him, too scared for what you might see in his eyes.

Or perhaps too scared it would be reflected in your eyes too.

© loveritas → do not copy or translate any of my works

[bloop-bl00p]

In defense of Octavia

TW: Lots of Trauma Dumping, Mention of abuse

She’s been wronged way too many times in this fandom for some reason. Look at her vibing, how can you hate her?

I’m a fan of Helluva Boss, mainly because of its potential but the quality dropped dead in the second season. We’re gonna talk about a character I’ve seen other fans misinterpreting in favor of the so-great Prince Stolass.

I want to talk about her mainly because I do what I want and because after studying her character I just realized that she’s just like me. Especially regarding her relationship with her father, I see myself in my younger years.

All of that to say…

She has all the right to feel abandoned.

Octavia obliviously has a stronger bond with her father, it shows in her behavior and little background details

When she wants to draw her family, she draws her and Stolas, we mostly see her being happy with him which leads me to think that she’s emotionally neglected by Stella. To her, Octavia is just an ‘egg’ that fell off her and she doesn't care about the impact killing Stolas could have on her daughter.

Despite being emotionally absent, Stella has a much more physical presence than Stolas. Most of the time Stolas is alone in his castle which leads me to think that Octavia is somewhere else with Stella. They did mention the two went on a weekend somewhere. This leads us to this question…

How can Octavia feel more close to her father?

Here’s the thing, I see a lot of my family dynamic here. My mom doesn’t pay attention to me at all, she doesn't want me to bother her and she makes it clear. My dad, however, who’s absent like 90% of the time, always tried to spare time with me. He explained to me that he was working and why he was doing all of this (I was like barely ten) but it never prevented him from trying to play with me, sharing his hobbies, going on a walk, and else.

He was there emotionally and, as a kid who was bullied, had no friends at all, and a mother who didn't give a damn, I cherished this relationship.

I believe the exact same thing happened with Octavia, we never see her with friends or even outside the castle, she’s isolated. Stolas has Prince duties, we’ve seen him carry them in the shows, hence why he’s mostly absent leaving her with her mother. But, at least when she was a kid, he tried to do stuff bringing her to Loo-Loo Land or being the one to comfort her. That is why she clings to her father, he’s the only one who actually shows her love and she’s terrified of losing that.

Regarding her mother, Stella obliviously doesn't care about her so the feeling is reciprocated. From a narrative standpoint, Stella is an unpredictable force of nature getting angry for pretty much anything that doesn't go her way. So Octativa learned to not cross her mother's path.

I know this expression, this is the “Oh fuck… they’re at it again?” she’s used to her mother's constant screaming, she's used to her parents fighting.

She did say they were a time when a parent didn't hate each other, which to me refers to the time when Stolas tanked Stella’s abuse. But, that doesn’t mean that Stella wasn't abusing him in front of a younger Octavia, she’s erratic and they did imply that she can get physical in her toxic behavior. Since Stella was passive, it was probably mostly harmful comments.

Putting personal things here, my mom was also very abusive to my older sibling. Since I was extremely young I learned not to ‘be a burden’ to avoid being abused as well, which includes things like not talking to her unless she does it first. Whether Octavia is aware of the physical abuse or not, she must know enough to know that it’s a bad idea to annoy Stella.

This is the only picture where we see her seemingly having a good relationship with Stolas, which to me feels like she’s faking it considering all we know about the family.

She has a pretty shitty household but her relationship with her father make it bearable until Stolas did a 180°

He randomly started to prioritize Blitz and don’t spill me the bullshit of ‘he’s trying’ he stopped trying long ago.

Let’s analyze this episode by episode:

In Loo Loo Land, Stolas seemingly tries to rebuild a visibly strained relationship with his daughter by bringing her to a park she liked when she was a kid. To this, she immediately responds with an “I’m not 5 anymore.” and an “I rather kill myself.” There’s no room for miscommunication, she doesn't want to go there, and she won’t enjoy it as much as she did back then. Still, he decides to go there, showing that he doesn't listen, and, he brings the one the thing that is currently ruining his already horrible marriage because of his own actions. Blitzø.

He’s trying to spend time with his daughter after a long time (this is mentioned in the episode) and he decides to bring in that one guy he’s hooking up with to deliberately make sexual remarks about him in front of her.

She’s uncomfortable the whole time, not just because she allegedly doesn’t like listening to her father's comments but because she doesn't like the park. She said it, yet Stolas doesn't acknowledge it, he doesn't realize the faces she makes which are to me pretty communicative of her annoyance and discomfort.

This is not even subtle body language, yet he only notices it when she runs off. The worst part is that he still finds a way to think about Blitzø when his daughter leaves.

He looked upset that Blitzø didn't follow him! Did he expect that guy to pursue him constantly? He was in the middle of an argument with his daughter, I personally would have stepped away to give them space to talk and reconcile. But no, apparently Blitzø should be at his beck and call all the time.

But you know what, after all of this. He still apologized. That absolutely does not negate everything he did during the day but, at the end of it, he finally listened to her and even brought her to a place she actually wanted to be. Which is good, he acknowledged her discomfort and did something she liked.

Until Seeing Star.

Look I know Stolas was busy with Stella but he clearly doesn't care about her and her stuff.

Don’t tell me he couldn’t pinpoint Stella’s location with magic and teleport all of her belongings to her. Their discussion was barely about the furniture, he could have said that they were gonna be delivered and hung up the second he saw Octavia. Arguing with Stella is pointless, he’s the number one guy that should know that! Why does he continue to insult her, he’s just fuelling the fire!

Moving out her belongings would have been 10 times faster if he just hung up the phone, then he could have had a more mindful talk with Octavia without the constant bickering of his ex-wife.

But he didn't for some reason, fair enough, I guess. The writers do whatever they want. Anyway, Octavia got angry and ran to go see the stars on her own.

So, Stolas’ castle is in Pride but my point still stands, Octavia had the time to run from home and make the way all from her father's place to the city, find the specific building Blitzø held his organization in and Stolas didn't notice a thing.

You cannot tell me Stella managed to get his attention for that long AND you cannot tell me that his castle is close to the shitty disaffected building and the populace. His daughter ran off and he did not notice a thing.

Not only that but he has the nerve of blaming Blitzø for not watching the book. Like, dude! You should have watched your daughter instead!

Then he spills out more bullshit.

I don’t know Stolas, how could you possibly find her when you were shown to have countless abilities to do so?

Like bubbles projecting the image and locations of people.

Or that on time when you possessed corpses and one woman just to go full eldritch monstrosity just for one that one guy you’re cheating your wife with. And don’t whine about “They don’t love each other.” it’s still affecting his family, mainly his daughter so it’s still bad.

Of course, you do all of that without your grimoire without any problem, brushing it off with a…

I guess he forgot his ‘ways’ when it came to Octavia. But honestly, Loona literally found her easily just by looking at her Instagram account, couldn't he just call her or something? The girl had her phone the whole time and he didn't just think of calling her.

Me when I forget that I have teleportation power when I am in an enclosed space with nobody is looking.

You’re certainly not worrying right now. Via literally told him to his face that she was scared and he kept flirting with him even though he once again caused her to run away because of his neglect.

He’s not trying his best, THIS IS NOT TRYING!

No Loona, his daughter communicated very clearly issues related to their relationship, rather than reassuring her and being there for her as much as it’s realistically possible (he still has duties to carry), he gets in an avoidable petty fight with his ex and keeps an unhealthy dynamics with an imp he's been obsessing over. He doesn't focus, his priorities aren’t straight, and now Octavia feels abandoned.

I did mention that I had a good relationship with my father back then, but it stopped abruptly. His focus changed and he went out with friends after work and gradually stopped spending time with me. Until we never spent time together again, (to give you an idea the only moment where I could see him was in the morning for breakfast) now that can sound silly but I was a child, with no friends and a neglectful mom, losing the only good thing I had in life broke me. I knew his schedule, I knew he was spending time with work buddies and that just stung my self-esteem even more leaving me feeling like a burden when I was just a kid who wanted to feel love.

This is why I don’t like the “He’s trying.” I know what a trying struggling parent looks like and I know what happens when they stop. If you keep trying to do something and you’re constantly failing, either your technique isn’t the right one or you’re not and you’re convincing yourself you are.

And then there are people that’ll tell me that “He lived through the abuse of Stella for years for her.”

If you read all of this then I don’t feel like I need to explain how Octavia was at least partially exposed to Stella's toxic behavior and was affected by it.

For those who don’t know how it feels to live with an erratic mood-swinging person, it’s pure constant stress. You have to think constantly before you talk or move because you know that if you fuck up you’re gonna pay the price. And if you still eventually mess up you can never know with these types of people! You can’t defend yourself because the punishment will be far worse. You are ALWAYS in the wrong.

So he lived through the abuse of Stella just so his daughter could get neglected and abused in a less physical way?

The difference between my parents and Octavia is that they love each other. Stolas doesn't give a damn about Stella, he did say he was nice at first because he empathized with her they were in this shitty situation together, and fine, it's reasonable. But she never changed! Stella stayed the same! Why didn’t he leave her when he stopped carrying about her?! There’s no trauma bounding, Stella isn’t guilt-tripping or manipulating him, they got the child he could have divorced her easily without consequences! If anything, she’s the losing part of this divorce she’s lower in the hierarchy! “Andreaphul will get angry.” HE’S A MARQUIS! Hierarchically speaking Stolas is far more important and he mopes the floor with his peacock ass!

Am I supposed to be empathetic with that one dude who willingly let his daughter grow up in a hyper-toxic environment with an emotionally neglectful and unpredictable wife?! Am I supposed to believe he cares when he kept sleeping in his house in his bed with the same guy his daughter clearly is worried he’s going to leave her with?! Really?!

Don’t ever tell me that this is trying.

[wosohours]

bracelets - leah williamson x reader

With Leah being out on concussion protocol, the club doctors ordered her to take a couple of days off to rest. While she is still able to do light activities here and there, she just had to be careful with things that would cause too much strain on her brain, like being on her phone, watching TV, reading a book, etc.

Although it is unfortunate that she cannot play for a bit, you both are grateful that you two get to spend some time together, especially Leah, since she likes it when you take care of her.

You have been doing your best in terms of trying to keep her mind off of her short recovery in the form of many different mini hobbies such as; diamond painting, legos, and puzzles. At one point you had faith that you could get Leah into baking but of course the second she passes the threshold into the kitchen disaster strikes.

Today you decided to get Leah to do something that will not only keep her busy but will keep her away from her phone for a bit.

Walking into your shared bedroom you greet Leah with a kiss on her forehead and say, “Put your shoes on, we’re going to the crafts store.”

“The crafts store? Is this another one of your little hobby ideas to keep me busy?” she says getting off the bed to walk to her closet.

“Yes, even though this is nothing like your ACL days, I just know how you get when you are stuck in your head for too long,’ you tell her.

“That’s very sweet of you babe. I appreciate you putting up with me these past couple of days,” she replies.

____________________

As you two walk around the crafts store you point out certain things that might pique her interest, but not quite caught her eye.

“You should do these,” you say, grabbing a container full of different colorful seed beads. “You can make cute personalized bracelets for your teammates and maybe even some to give back to fans since they’re always making some for you.”

A big smile grows on Leah’s face as she takes the beads from you to observe them. “This is a great idea baby. Let’s get colorful threads too so we can make friendship bracelets,” she says looking around the aisle for the threads.

Looking around a bit more you find individual color bead strands making you think of a TikTok you saw a couple of days ago. You grab a few different shades of blue and walk over to Leah putting them up against her eye.

“What are you doing?” Leah giggles giving you a confused look.

Smiling at her, you put another shade of blue next to her face and ask, “Do you remember that TikTok video I showed you the other day? Where couples would find beads that matched their partner’s eye color and then they would combine the two colors to make a bracelet?”

“Yes, I do remember that. Wait let me go find one that matches your eyes too,” She says walking over to the bead wall in search of a color that closely represents her favorite set of eyes.

“Yep, these will do. I can’t wait to wear these all the time,” she says looking at you.

After grabbing the rest of the stuff you need for the bracelets such as stretchy string and little initial beads, you make your way to check out and head home.

____________________

Leah immediately sets up all the stuff you two got on the dining room table while you go into the kitchen to get her some water and pain meds since her head is starting to hurt again.

“What do you want to do first?” you ask, sitting across from her.

“Let's make the eye color ones first,” she replies.

While making the bracelets you two sit in silence with music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

“This was such a great idea, love. Can you tie mine on my wrist?” she asks, and you do so.

When you are done tying her bracelet you tell her, “You know I used to make these and sell them at school. I wanted this pair of boots so bad, and my mom said that if I can come up with half the price of the boots she’d pay the rest. My classmates came up to me with special color requests and in two weeks I had more than half the price, and I got them the next day.”

“I could tell you’re a pro at this. You’ve always been a hard worker,” Leah says smiling down at her new bracelet.

____________________

A couple hours later you and Leah were still at it making bracelets. Well Leah was making bracelets, you were cooking dinner and would stop every now and then to tie them so they would not fall apart.

“FUCK!” you hear Leah shout from the dining room making you rush over to check on her.

“What happened?” you ask with concern in your tone.

Leah lifts up the clear string with no beads on it and says, “I just tried to tie it and the beads exploded everywhere. I don’t know how you do this, it’s so hard.”

She gets down on her knees and starts to pick up all the stray beads. “I mean they are everywhere, we’re going to be finding random beads for weeks.”

You stifle a laugh as you go to help her pick up the beads, “I’ve had years of practice baby, it’s okay.”

“I can pick them up babe, I don’t want you to burn dinner because of me,” she says.

“Alright, why don’t you try the threads and make friendship bracelets for the girls,” you suggest walking back to the kitchen.

“Yea I’ll need your help with that, I can’t figure that shit out to save my life. I can’t believe how many different patterns there are to make a bracelet,” she says, rolling her eyes, still picking up beads.

“It just depends on the design you want, but I’ll help you,” you call out.

____________________

After dinner you and Leah were back at it, this time making thread bracelets so it would not be as messy.

“I finished Beth's, that should be the last one. Man my hands hurt,” Leah says, cracking her knuckles.

You finish tying Beth’s bracelet and say, “Let’s clean up and head to bed. You can give these to the girls tomorrow.”

As you two walk to your bedroom you hear Leah let out a small yelp making you quickly turn around. “I just stepped on a damn bead,” Leah says, holding up a small red bead.

____________________

The next day before you two head to the game Leah grabs all of the bracelets she made and puts them in her bag.

Currently, you two are sitting in the stands with her mother and brother waiting for the game to start. “Do you think they’ll like their bracelets?” Leah asks you while her eyes are on the field.

“Of course baby, I think they’ll love them,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

She had already given a few lucky fans some bracelets and their reactions warmed her heart. She liked being able to give them something that she made for once instead of the other way around.

After the final whistle blew she grabbed your hand pulling you towards the field with her where she started handing out the bracelets.

“Aww Leah for me? These are so cute,” Lia said, pulling Leah into a hug.

“Is this how you spend your recovery time? Also matching one your lady,” Beth teased, putting on her bracelet.

“Yeah, it was my girl’s idea. It’s our eye colors see,” Leah beamed as she turned around, watching you speak to Viv who also got a bracelet.

“Of course it was, this is very sweet. Thank you, Leah,” Alessia says.

Why Leah was still chatting with the girls, she felt your arms wrap around her waist making her lean back into you. “I told you they would love them,’ you said, kissing the side of her beanie-covered head.

“I know, it was a great idea on your part,” she says, turning around in your arms, “Thank you for taking care of me, I know I can be a lot sometimes.”

“You’re just fine baby, I love taking care of you,” you tell her tightening your arms around her.

As Leah leans in for a kiss she gets interrupted by someone making a gagging noise. “You two are so cute it makes me physically sick,” Katie yells, causing everyone around to laugh.

Leah rolls her eyes and gives you a kiss, sneakily showing Katie her middle finger.

____________________

note: idk fam.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Toto’s Daughter (part 1)

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: smut

Most would think that it is not easy to be Toto Wolff's daughter. But that was not your case. You weren't part of the Formula 1 world. You lived abroad far from the world your dad was in. Everyone knew that you existed, of course, but you did your best to make your life as private and peaceful as possible, away from the public eye. And you did it successfully.

When you were younger you often attended races, you traveled with your dad all over the world, you were surrounded by big names, but over time, as you got older, that world stopped being of interest to you. You found your hobbies, your interests and your life, which you enjoyed every day.

When Lewis Hamilton won his first Formula 1 championship, you were only 9 years old. He was not a stranger to you, you practically grew up around him. Your dad held him in high esteem and enjoyed working with him. Over time, for your dad, Lewis Hamilton was no longer just a "driver", he became part of your family. Your family and Lewis often hung out outside of work, going on vacations, family lunches, birthdays, celebrations and things like that.

You had a good relationship with him, he would always ask you something here and there, joke with you, ask you about school, the usual things that adults ask children. That’s exactly what you were then, a child for him. To him you were Toto’s little daughter and to you he was almost like an uncle.

As the years went by, you grew up, you went to study abroad where you ended up living, and Lewis continued to work with your dad and be in a close relationship as before. Everything was the same except you were no longer part of the fast world they lived in.

The media were interested in your life, they were eager to find out what Toto's daughter was doing, where she lived, who she was dating, they wanted to know anything, but you didn't give them any material.

For Toto and Susie's 13th wedding anniversary, you decided to surprise everyone and come to the celebration that the two of them organized for close friends and family in a beautiful villa in the south of Italy.

It's an understatement to say that you stole the show when you showed up. All grown up and beautiful, you have become a real woman. All eyes were on you since even your immediate family hadn't seen you in a while.

You looked like a real lady when you showed up in a light yellow floor length dress (with a slightly deeper neckline than your family would have liked but oh well) over your tanned skin with long curled golden hair that fell over your shoulders. You really were something to see.

“Dear family, dear friends, I would like to take a moment to thank you for being here with us” Toto said moving to hold the toast as he stood next to Susie with one arm wrapped around her. You were all sitting at the long big table waiting for dinner so your dad took the opportunity to thank everyone.

“Thank you for taking the time to celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary with us here in Italy. Susie and I appreciate and love you all very much and there is no one else we would rather share these moments of happiness with than all of you. I'm especially glad that my daughter y/n is with us today, since she's not so little anymore, so I can't force her to spend more time with me and Susie anymore or ground her for not being with us more often” You blush as everyone’s gaze settle on you for a moment and laughter rings through the room.

“And finally, I want to thank the most important person in my life for making me the happiest person in the world for so many years. My rock, my biggest support in everything always and forever, my beautiful wife. I just want you to know that I look forward to every new day with you, that you are my true happiness and that I don't know what I would do without you, and I don't even want to know. I love you and I look forward to being with you for the rest of my life. Happy wedding anniversary love.” As Toto finished his toast, Susie's eyes glazed over with tears at his touching words, and so did yours.

Everyone clapped as the two kissed. You were really happy for the two of them. You loved seeing them as happy and in love as they were the first day they met and you could only wish you could find someone to love you the way your dad loves Susie.

Oh, what you would give to hear someone talk about you like this in front of everyone. To show this much love for you, to show you off so proudly.

“I’m so happy that you’re here, y/n” Susie said giving you a hug after the dinner.

“I’m happy to be here with you too. I’m having a really good time so far, I think that from now on I want to be involved in these kinds of family gatherings a little more often.”

“Honey, we always invite you, but you rarely come..”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry about that. You know that I’ve been busy with myself for the last couple of years.”

“I do know. Everyone’s been asking about you though. They can't believe the woman you've grown into. Everyone remembers you as the little girl with braces who sat on her dad's lap in the garage.” Both of you laugh as you remember those days.

“If you had walked past me, I'm not sure I would have recognized you, y/n” Susie’s eyes shift on the talking figure behind you. You turn your head to the side only to see Lewis with his hands in his pockets standing behind you and admiring you.

“Lewis..hi” You smile at him offering him a hug which he gladly accepts.

“I’ll leave you two alone to catch up, it’s been a while” Susie says before disappearing to find her husband.

“How have you been, y/n? I always ask Toto about you, but I haven’t seen you in quite some time now.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy with life, but in a good way. I dedicated my time to working on myself and my career and enjoying myself as well, traveling the world and so on. I can't complain.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well. It’s crazy to me how much you’ve changed. You’re not a little girl anymore that I used to ask about school, you’re..a woman now.” You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes were stuck on you. He was completely stunned by your beauty.

“Yeah, well I prefer to think that I’m more fun now than I was before no?” You wink at him making him laugh. “Anyway, what’s up with you? Heard you’re breaking up with my dad and going to Ferrari next year?”

“Yeah, well you know..It was not an easy decision to make, but the red car was one of my biggest wishes as a child, I think now is finally the time to fulfill it. If not now, when?"

"I understand although it's definitely gonna be hard to let you go." You tilt your head giving him a soft smile.

"I'm never gonna leave you guys." Lewis says. "I'll always be here, one way or another."

You spent the rest of the evening hanging out with friends and family, sharing stories from your life that they were happy to hear. Lewis spent most of his time around your dad, and you would glance at him every now and then only to catch him already secretly looking at you.

You haven't seen him live for a long time, of course, you've seen his pictures online, but you couldn't believe that he really still looks that good live despite his age.

When you were younger you didn't pay too much attention to him, you never looked at him in that way to think if he was hot or not. Especially because when you were younger he was in a long-term relationship with his girlfriend at the time, and after all, he's always been your dad's friend. But now, now that you are a little older, if you wanted to have someone by your side who is mature, who knows how to treat a woman, who is protective of you and who would take all the stars out of the sky, you know that Lewis would be the right choice for that.

What you expected even less was the knowledge that since Lewis saw you again after so many years, he hasn't stopped thinking about you for a second. He couldn't get you off his mind, and you found that out in a very unexpected way.

The next night you got dressed for another dinner and you wanted to ask Lewis to take a picture of you from the balcony of his room because his room had a better view of the sea than yours.

You stood in front of the door of his room and knocked and knocked, but he didn't open. At that moment, something did not give rest to your curiosity, so you let yourself into his room on your own.

You slowly scanned the room and saw that there were clothes on the bed prepared for tonight's dinner, and the door to the bathroom inside the room was closed. You moved a little closer to the door and leaned your head towards it and heard the water coming from the shower.

But that wasn't all you heard. The next word that came out of Lewis' mouth completely shocked you and made you gasp.

"Fuck, y/n.." You heard from the other side of the door.

The short whimpers, long-winded moans, the filthy sound coming from his mouth almost knocked you off your feet. You wanted to run away and pretend like you never heard this because you weren't supposed to hear it in the first place. But then you thought you had heard wrong and that he had said someone else's name because it couldn't possibly be true that Lewis was thinking about you this way. So you leaned your head back towards the door to try to hear something, anything again.

"Oh yes, just like that.." He groaned. "Just like that, y/n"

part 2

[midnightbears]

Arranged marriage with Gyomei pls. Kagaya matched Gyomei with Y/N ​​for some reason and Gyomei slowly falling in love with y/n 🥲🥲❤

✿ i love you, and i want to find out what that means together.

#STARRING: himejima gyomei ft. fem!reader

#TAGS: arranged marriage. gyomei is in his early twenties in this one! set before the main events of kny. some invented lore for the sake of the story please just bear it thanks

#NOTES: hello there! thank you for your request <3 tbh I've always had this specific idea stuck in my head and you just gave me a reason to write for it LMAO i actually went kind of crazy with this fic omg i loved to write it let me know if u would like a part two! hope you like it and hope it wasn't too much LMAOOo

your existence could be hashed over with one word.

purpose.

ever since you could remember, your entire life had been mapped out for you: what to eat, what to not eat, what to like, what to dislike, what to wear, your hobbies, your pastimes, your vocabulary—everything. apparently, every inane thing that had been shoved down your throat was only done to make you a dignified woman worthy of whichever lord they married you off to.

you and your family hailed from a long line of priests and priestesses, where the girls were raised to be proper wives and shrine maidens and the boys were carefully taught the profession in hopes of serving important figures throughout japan.

you were helping your mother tend to the flowers one day when a messenger from the ubuyashiki clan—a kakushi, as you heard they were called—appeared before your temple's door, asking your father to choose and provide the clan with one of his daughters.

you were picked immediately, and you had no choice but to stand before your father, trembling, and pretend that you agreed with his decision with a serene expression on your face. you could tell this was just his way of finally getting rid of you.

in the words of your father behind closed doors, if someone couldn't be bothered to have the decency to visit the temple in person and instead sent a mere messenger to request a carefully trained shrine maiden, it was clear they didn't deserve the best of what he could offer.

you smiled, agreeing with him.

when you went to pack what little things you had, nobody was in the shared quarters; at least you would spare yourself of your sisters' cruel remarks over your father's decision. you did not have many things of your own; you packed your hairbrush, a book, and what few things you held dear.

the kakushi was waiting outside when you emerged. trying to maintain a semblance of calm, you offered him a small smile. he looked at you with curiosity but did not say anything. kindly, he allowed you a moment for a brief prayer before the buddha statue at the front of the temple. then, you were off.

no one came to say goodbye to you.

it was alright, you supposed. the only person you could think fondly of was your mother, and a barbed wire of melancholy slowly wound around your heart at the thought of not being able to part ways properly. you knew that she preferred you over her other daughters, but even so, you were aware that she would never hear the end of it from your father if she came to say her farewells. you would write to her.

you were the third of six sisters, and always, one of them was more talented than you were, just a tad bit more attractive, just a tad bit more creative, just a tad bit more charming. sure, you were well-versed in the duties of a useful spouse—okay, all your sisters were as well. what good was that when you had nothing special about you? what was it your father called you? ah, yes, mediocre.

the kakushi did not speak to you for the entire trip, for which reason you did not know. a question hung on the tip of your tongue, although you dared not ask it. at some point, he urged you to wear a blindfold and climb on his back, which you simply accepted, knowing better than to ask.

you didn't make anything out during the journey, only listening to the sound of small pebbles vibrating against the ground as he made his way up a mountain. after what felt like hours, he finally put you down, gently tugging the blindfold off you and allowing your eyes to adjust to the bright light of morning.

once you were presentable, he escorted you toward the estate entrance. you could tell he was a bit off put by the way you were just accepting things, but he didn't say anything about it.

the kakushi stopped before the towering gate of the ubuyashiki mansion and offered you a deep bow. you thanked him, and you could see him smile with his eyes before he left. another kakushi, a woman this time, escorted you toward a graveled garden, a small figure sitting by the engawa.

she knelt on the ground and bowed her head, and you did the same until she picked herself from the ground.

looking forward, you met the gaze of a boy who looked to be around the age of fifteen, with kohl black hair that sat just above his shoulders. he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, so easy to look at, lavender tainting the irises. he had the calming smile of a buddha, and although knowing nothing about him beyond reputation, you felt at ease with him.

"i am kagaya. i trust your journey went smoothly? thank you for your patience, maiden. i apologize for not going to your temple in person, i hope your priest will forgive me. believe me, i wanted to, but i'm afraid my illness would not have allowed me to make the trip."

the boy's voice was unlike any other you had ever heard, fluid and gentle, causing a wave of reassurance to wash over you. you felt at ease immediately, as though something had just taken every burden off your shoulders and instead shrouded you in a cloud of repose.

"it was no trouble, oyakata-sama, truly." you followed this with a deep incline of your head, your own voice remaining serene and mellow, "it is an honor to be in your presence."

kagaya smiled. "your temple is of great renown. my clan has had the pleasure of counting with your priests and maidens across the centuries. there is no need for such formalities, child."

granted, you were sure you were older than him by a few years, but the way he called you 'child' was comforting, and you were not about to question him, simply keeping quiet.

"you are to marry one of my pillars, maiden. he is an honorable man, the lord of stone, i am sure the two of you will get along. he should arrive any moment now."

you willed yourself to say something, yet you simply could not. you were not the first maiden who was given to a lord for marriage, and you certainly wouldn't be the last. still, your heart did a flip at the simple notion of ending up in a similar situation as your mother, forced to produce offspring until your husband found you undesirable.

for a moment, a cold hand wrapped around your heart in fear of what that man would do with you. however, the single thought of the young boy before you lying about the pillar's honor revolted you. he was telling the truth, and if he said the stone pillar was a good man, then you had nothing to fear.

softly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears, and you turned slightly to see a towering figure approaching, his presence both imposing and serene all at once.

the man who stood before you was unlike any you had ever seen. large beyond comparison, clad in the dark robes of a uniform and a green haori. his stature was immense, with muscles that seemed chiseled from stone. he was young, with an impassive face, yet undeniably handsome. his eyes, clouded with a milky whiteness, told you that he could not see, yet he moved with a grace that belied his blindness.

"this is himejima gyomei, the stone pillar," kagaya introduced, "he has been chosen as your betrothed, and i trust that you will find solace and strength in his presence."

gyomei walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, his footsteps echoing throughout the garden—

your breath hitched as he knelt before you, reaching his hand out. but instead of what you expected, he pressed his palm against your cheek, his voice reverberating like a chiming bell inside a cathedral. he caressed your cheek as one would treat an injured butterfly.

"maiden beloved," he murmured, tears spilling from his eyes, "i apologize for making you wait."

the ceremony was that same day, quick and endearing.

you were married in front of oyakata-sama, his wife, and other members of the corps as witnesses. before you knew it, the wedding concluded, and your husband guided you to your new home with you by his side.

gyomei was not acting like he had been given you as some justly won right to do with as he pleased. that set your heart at ease, greatly so, and in some way, it was like he could tell, too. he was walking slowly, allowing you to keep up with his large strides. small talk filled the empty silence of the way home as he listed all the things you would assist him with.

you were to cook for him, clean the estate daily and take care of it when he was away, write letters for him and read them when he received any, and...

huh. that was it.

getting used to your routine was easier than anticipated as weeks passed, although you would be lying to yourself if you said that gyomei's patience and demeanor weren't helping you in the slightest.

he had insisted that you sleep in a separate bedroom within the estate, taking into account that despite being your husband, he was still a complete stranger to you. the very moment you reached your new home, he made sure to explicitly tell you that he did not wish to embarrass you or cause you discomfort in any way, shape, or form.

during mornings, you would naturally wake up at the crack of dawn, your training making things much easier. you would dress yourself in the robes gyomei had gifted you for your wedding and make your way to the kitchen to start a big meal for the day. you'd wake him up then, guiding him to the kitchen to share breakfast together.

most of the time, you ate in silence, although you did not mind at all. after that, you would wash dishes, and he trained. the estate was not that big, so having to sweep the floor or dust the shelves daily did not bother you, and you instead found comfort in the repetitive routine. you would finish quite swiftly and urge gyomei inside again for tea time during noon.

you tried to entertain yourself as best as possible during the afternoons and evenings. usually, you would find yourself tending to a small garden you'd created when you arrived. your husband would sometimes join you, captivated by the sweet smell of the flowers and the sensation of the earth beneath his fingertips. you would explain what the flowers looked like and how they were meant to be taken care of, and he, in turn, basked in your every word.

gardening duty was one of the things you enjoyed most back at the temple, and since no one else was willing to get their hands dirty, you were the maiden who would regularly take care of the flowers.

you bought flower seeds during your first trip to the market in the nearby town and took the time to introduce yourself to as many people as possible. the locals were very kind to you, and as you started frequenting the shops more and more, you were always being greeted by folks who wished you and your husband the best.

as months passed, your relationship with gyomei deepened in ways you had never expected. the initial tension and clumsiness of living with a stranger began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity and comfort.

gyomei, true to his word, respected your boundaries and gave you space to adjust at your own pace. however, small gestures of care and affection started to seep into your daily life. he would often leave freshly picked flowers from your garden by your bedroom door, their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance greeting you first thing in the morning. sometimes, he would assist you with household chores, his presence making the mundane tasks feel lighter and more enjoyable.

he began to pay attention to the little things, like how you offered wounded slayers who stumbled upon the estate a fresh meal and a place to redress their wounds, or how you fed the cats mingling around your shared home every single night, even noticing that you had taken the time to name them and remember everyone.

the town's people, too, played a part in your growing closeness. they would often remark on how harmonious you and gyomei seemed together, their kind words fortifying the bind that tied you together. you started to see the way gyomei interacted with them and how much respect the people had for him—and you couldn't help but admire him more each day.

your conversations, though initially skimpy and shallow, began to flow more naturally. gyomei's deep voice would rumble through stories of his past with the children of the orphanage, his experiences as a hashira, and the lessons he had learned along the way. you, in turn, shared snippets of your life at the temple, your family, your dreams, and your fears. it was through these conversations that you realized how much you had in common despite your different backgrounds.

anyone with a pair of working eyes would see it, or, at least, anyone who had known for at least once in their lifetime what a soul-stirring connection with another human felt like. you found comfort in his presence, seeking him out like a moth to a flame, and he, in yours, only wanted you to tend to his wounds after missions, fix his haori, or wait by himself outside just so he could pray by your side.

eventually, it got to a point where the separate bedrooms became less of a necessity and more of a formality. you often found yourself falling asleep together in the living room after long conversations or shared moments of silence. whenever you did manage to part ways, you always lingered by your door, a dreamy smile encasing your lips.

you could not deny yourself anymore. you were the happiest you had been in years.

one evening, as you both sat for dinner, the familiar quiet enveloping you like a warm blanket, gyomei's voice broke through the tranquility.

"i love you."

the bunch of food you were going to bring into your mouth splattered into the bowl again with a messy splash. oh. oh my god. you whipped your head toward your husband, who stared at you with a soft expression on his face.

"you do not have to say it back if you do not feel the same, but i wanted you to know." then, gyomei went back to chewing his food as if he had not said what he had just said.

"why?"

gyomei shifted his head in your direction with a worried expression, your teary tone and doddering heartbeat doing nothing to mitigate his apprehension. he tried to reach for you, but you jerked away from him. he could tell that whatever you were feeling was not directed toward him, but still, it pained him greatly to know you were suffering.

"g-gyomei, i—"

your hands were shaking, and he reached for them to trace your skin with the pads of his thumbs. he opened his mouth, but you beat him to it as you keeled over, shoulders trembling as sobs left your mouth, your usual calmness thrown out the window.

"y-you said that you wouldn't embarrass me! there is nothing special about me. what is it about me that you could possibly love? you're always so good to me," you were throwing word vomit at this point, and the worst part was you did not even know where it was coming from, "i haven't done anything to receive your affection! i'm just doing the things i'm supposed to do..."

tears slid down his cheeks before he could stop them, and he leaned forward to pull you into his embrace. your body completely froze, an unknown emotion taking over. gyomei had never initiated contact before. most of the time, you had to be the one to grab his hand or tug his collar.

"my little maiden... you have no idea how precious you are to me," gyomei murmured, his voice impossibly gentle and firm. he held you close, his large, comforting presence grounding you as your sobs began to subside. "you see yourself through the harsh lens of your own eyes, but i see the truth of your heart with my own. your unconditional kindness, your strength, your sincerity—these are just some of the reasons i love you."

his words seeped into your cold heart, slowly quieting the tempest inside. you couldn't understand how someone as incredible, kind, and powerful as gyomei could see such worth in you, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his embrace made you want to believe him.

"you don't have to prove your worth to me or anyone," he continued, his voice alleviating your wounded spirit. "you are enough, just as you are. your presence in my life is a blessing, and i am grateful for you every single day."

"gyomei," you whispered, your voice trembling but no longer with fear. "i… i love you too. i was just scared. scared that i wasn't enough for you."

he smiled softly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "you are more than enough, my love. and i will spend the rest of all my lifetimes showing you just how much you mean to me."

© midnightbears on tumblr, july 2024. please do not repost to another platform, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end. 

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him. 

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[illubean]

Walk Him Like a Dog!

In which Nerdjo is your roommate (eventually boyfriend) who will do anything for you <3

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: Oneshot, Fem!Reader, can u tell I'm a sucker for College!AU

ignore the unserious ass images idk what to use for this 😭

Warnings: descriptions of reader's appearance (stuff like smooth skin or long lashes, nothing too specific), NSFW Reader discretion is advised (it’s probably skippable)

Gojo doesn't know how he's going to survive having you as a roommate.

He doesn't do all that well when it comes to the social scene. Sure, he's nice and accidentally charismatic, but he's only found few people who will listen to him talk about his hobbies without judgement. That being said though doesn't mean he's anti-social. Quite the opposite actually.

When Gojo posted about the vacancy in his apartment, it was because his previous roommate and best friend transferred schools, leaving him all alone in the space. The snowy haired male could easily afford to live on his own, but he couldn't stand to be completely by himself. Initially, he just expected some random guy would take the room, someone who he could be at least somewhat friends with (because lets be real, he can never and will never replace his moody bestie).

What he didn't expect, though, was a pretty thing like you messaging him to ask about the room. When you met at the campus cafe to chat before you made the final decision to move in, his jaw dropped as you settled in the seat across from him. It was like a scene out of a cheesy romance movie, or even that part in Lego Batman where he sees Barbara for the first time. Your hairstyle suited you perfectly, long lashes batting as he watched how your perfectly glossed lips moved when you spoke. He was so entranced he almost didn't catch what you said.

"Hey! Thanks for meeting up with me. I seriously need to move ASAP, I'm glad I saw your post before anyone else asked about it!"

"Uhm.......wow you're so...I mean yeah, how lucky!"

The poor guy practically had heart eyes while everything around you turned to glitter, emphasizing your features. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Gojo focused on you. It wasn't the first time he's seen you around. Often times you'd pass him on the way to class or around the dining hall, always with a friend. He always knew you were gorgeous but never bothered to approach you, concluding that you were way out of his league. And you were so much prettier up close.

You pretended not to notice his very obvious gawking. If it were any other man, you would've probably cussed him out and walked away by now. But it wasn't a secret that Gojo was cute; he also seemed pretty sweet in comparison to the douchey guys who approached you most of the time. You spent 15-20 minutes chatting with him before you had to run to your next class. He was happy things went well and you decided to take him up on his offer, arranging to move all of your stuff into his apartment the upcoming weekend.

About a month or so after you settled into your new living arrangement, Gojo was able to see sides of you no one but your closest friends know about. He got to learn more about your hobbies and little habits, like how on occasion you partake in what you call "floor time". He even got to watch how you stumbled out of your room and padded your way to the kitchen in the morning, sporting an atrocious bedhead and your cartoon pj pants. Even with eye crusties and sleep lines on your face, he still thought you were adorable.

The more time that passed by, Gojo fell harder and harder for you. He never planned to tell you about his feelings though; just seeing you go about your life in the shared space and having you around was enough. He couldn't risk the good thing he had going over a silly not so little crush.

Aside from being in love with you, living together and having you as a roommate was very pleasant. You made sure to keep things clean and never shied away from spending quality roommate time with Gojo. You also made it so that Gojo himself took better care of the space and his well being. All just by being there.

You guys grew to become pretty close friends. He would walk you to your classes whenever he had the chance, you would sit with him while he studies or plays his games and the two of you even had weekly movie and or TV show binge nights. Gojo always chose some nerdy superhero or fantasy movie with the occasional anime series, but you never really minded. During his free time, your tall companion rarely left the apartment. And if he did, it was usually just to accompany you. And you quickly realized that he rarely ever said no to you. Any time you asked him to drive you to the grocery store, hold your bag while you were out or even just simple things like helping you open a pickle jar he always did so with enthusiasm. He has never once complained about any of the tasks you ask of him, even if it was something ridiculous like rearranging the layout of your room ten times just to put everything back to the way it was before. He was always happy to help. After realizing how good he treats you, you quickly started falling for the man yourself. He really was a sweet boy, ever so helpful and kind and not to mention the cutest thing ever. You never missed the way his cheeks would dust a rosy shade whenever you were too close, or how he fidgets with his clothes when he’s feeling nervous. Even the light and passion in his eyes whenever he would geek out about the marvel franchise or whatever video game he was currently into was adorable. It was obvious there was mutual attraction between the two of you, but in order to have some fun you decided to see how far you could push his limits before everything would come out into the open.

You started by asking him for his opinion on small things, like what color shirt he liked better on you or if you should wear blue or black jeans. Then from there, it went to asking him about things on your computer (which you may or may not already know how to do). This would force him to either lean next to or above you while you sat in your desk chair, watching your screen and taking your mouse from you to fix whatever needed fixing. Then, you started asking for more risqué things, like helping you zip up the back of a dress or bringing you a towel that you so coincidentally forgot. You were always sure to thank him genuinely, which escalated from words, to hugs then to pecks on the cheek.

Every time you physically expressed your gratitude, Gojo would freeze up momentarily before offering a quiet “no problem” and retreating to whatever it was he was doing before. On one of your TV nights, you decided to amp things up a bit. Typically, the two of you sat a normal distance away from each other, but as the movie went on you would scootch closer and closer to him. The TV was currently playing whichever part of the Starwars trilogy; Gojo’s pick of course.

“Hey Toru, can you do me a favor?”

He glanced over at you, momentarily turning his attention away from the film to answer you with a smile.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I’m kind of cold. Can we cuddle?”

His body stiffened as he turned a complete 90 degrees to face you, shoulders tense while he stammered out his response.

“ARE YOU SURE!? I mean- ahem…we can…if you want.”

You giggled at his response before sliding even closer to him, gently pushing him to lay against the armrest of the couch and settling atop him. You could hear his heartbeat quicken while his hands froze in the air for a moment, before awkwardly resting against your back.

“Why’re you so tense? I don’t bite.”

“Right.”

He let out a shaky breath before trying to relax into the couch, lanky limbs entangled with your own. Without tearing your eyes away from the TV screen, you readjusted yourself as well as Gojo, leading his arms to rest around your waist instead of awkwardly against your shoulder blades. You tucked your own arms around and underneath his midsection while you laid comfortably against his broad chest. For someone who didn’t go outside much, he was well built. You weren’t too interested in the movie choice for tonight, but pretended to be for Gojo’s sake. Allas, your attempts were futile as halfway through you ended up falling asleep, lulled by the soft badump badump badump of his hearbeat.

(nsfw below)

After that night, Gojo avoided you like the plague. You were beginning to worry that you may have pushed his boundaries too far. Maybe you read him wrong and he wasn’t interested in you the way you thought. But in reality, that couldn’t be any farther from the case. After getting to cuddle with who Gojo swears is the most beautiful woman on the planet, he couldn’t think about anything else. You were on his mind constantly, often invading his dreams at night and he was too embarrassed to face you. Especially when those dreams became…not so wholesome. He felt bad about thinking of you in this way, he really did. But he just couldn’t help himself. Especially when the weather was shifting and getting warmer. Now, you often opted to sleep in tiny tank tops or shorts, 99% of the time without a bra. This left little to the imagination.

In the late hours of the night, Satoru would pathetically stroke his cock to the thought of you; his pretty little roommate sleeping in the next room. A small part of him thinks you know what you do to him, but the greater portion chalks it all up to you just being friendly, and he was just some disgusting pervert. Satoru whimpers, feeling unimaginably guilty but he just can’t stop. Every night since you watched Starwars together, he would retreat to his room and rub his sad, weeping dick raw to the thought of you. Tonight, his fantasies were running particularly wild. He imagined it were your hand working him instead of his own, imagining the way you would plant kisses against him and tell him how good he’s doing. With a needy whine, Satoru erupted all over his hand and lower abdomen, panting as he leaned against the headboard of his bed.

His body relaxed while he came down from his high, only to tense up again at the sound of his door being slammed open.

“Toru, are you okay!? I heard a-“

You stopped in your tracks as the both of you stared at each other, wide eyed. Satoru was frozen in horror as your eyes trailed down from his own, settling on the pretty length between his legs as it began to stiffen back up again. The initial shock on your face wore off and turned into a sly smirk, causing Satoru to stutter out some lame excuse while he felt heat creep up his neck and engulf his face.

“I’m sorry- it’s not what it looks like!”

Ignoring his embarrassed rambling, you made your way into the room and settled on the bed next to him. Your thigh was pressed flush against his own as you leaned closer to his ear, hand gently grasping his shaft. You felt it twitch beneath your touch, smiling while you whisper into his ear.

“Aww, is this why you’ve been so awkward around me? Y’know, all you had to do was ask.”

Satoru shivered, feeling the way your breath fanned against his face, lips moving to press fluttering kisses against his neck. Pathetic mewls spilled from his lips, feeling jolts of pleasure course through his body at the feeling of your soft hand slowly caressing the angry, pink tip of his cock.

Was this really happening?

His half lidded eyes watched your hand leisurely move up and down as his mind turned to mush. He was broken out of his trance by the feeling of your other hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, turning him to face you before swallowing every noise that came from him. Your lips felt so good against his, so soft.

This was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. From the minute you barged into his room, Satoru was completely engulfed in you. Engulfed in your presence, your stare, and now your touch. The sweet scent of your body wash was comforting as he listened to himself moan against your lips. Taking advantage of this, you pushed your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. Everything felt hot. Everything from the burning of his ears, to the warmth where your skin touched his, and now, the fire within his abdomen running its course to his second orgasm of the night. Satoru’s hips bucked up into your gentle fist, stuttering as ropes of white hot cum shot from his shaft. This time around, it landed higher onto his tummy than it did before, a broken and muffled “mnffhh” buzzing against your lips. Pulling away from the kiss, you didn’t miss how his lips seemed to chase yours nor the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

Letting go of his softening length, your finger swiped up some of the cooling cum off of his sticky tip and brought it to your lips for a taste. Satoru watched you with his ocean colored eyes, glazed over with more than just lust. Your other hand caressed soothing circles at the nape of his neck, fingers threaded through his undercut.

“Toru baby, can you do another favor for me?”

Feeling weak in his post nut haze, all he can muster is a small nod as his swollen lips quivered.

“Only let me see you like this. No one else.”

The next morning, Gojo was almost convinced everything that happened was all a dream. He woke up alone in his bed, the only proof that you could’ve been there was that he was cleaned up and tucked under his covers. Groggily, he swung his legs over the side of his way and dragged himself to the kitchen. The smell of miso soup wafted towards him and he saw you stood in front of the stove.

“G’morning Toru,” you greeted softly, smiling over your shoulder. “Breakfast should be done soon. Come, taste this for me.”

The male blinked a couple of times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How could you be so normal right now? Ignoring his inner thoughts, he’s quick to obey you as you spoon fed him some of the soup.

‘S’good,” he says, yawning and making his way to sit at the table. If you were going to play it cool and pretend things didn’t happen last night, then so would he.

After breakfast the two of you went about your days like you normally would. No matter how much Gojo told himself he was fine with not talking about last night, it was eating him alive as time passed by. It wasn’t until the two of you were getting ready for bed that his resolve snapped. He slowly peeked his head into your room, spotting you doing your skincare routine at your vanity.

“You need something?” you asked, offhandedly, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror.

“About last night…did that….mean anything to you?”

His cheeks flushed as he recalled the events from before. He cursed his body for getting worked up again. He was trying to have a serious conversation with you, damn it!

Finishing up the application of your moisturizer, you stood from in front of your vanity to make your way to the door and pull Satoru inside.

“Of course it did,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. “I’m just waiting on you, big guy.”

Satoru practically melted upon the feeling of your lips against his again, expression switching from worried to a lovestruck, dopey smile. It wasn’t for a few moments did the actually process what you said last.

Waiting on me? For what?

You watched as the gears turned in that pretty head of his, his puzzled face quickly lighting up in realization as if a lightbulb were turned on above him.

“Oh, right! Can I please be your boyfriend!?”

You laughed at his excitement, giving him the answer he wanted to hear for so long. You could almost imagine a pair of fluffy ears perking up from the top of his head and a tail wagging happily behind him. You pressed one last kiss against his lips before pushing him out your room door.

“See you tomorrow, boyfriend.”

As time passed, Satoru started to go out more and more, never once leaving your side. This resulted in him being around your friends as well, which caused him to gain more attention and popularity. Your group wasn’t the most stereotypical popular kids; most just being known from sports or student organizations. Even though you weren’t that known, now that Satoru was part of the rather large friend group, other people began to notice him.

Especially other girls.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you dating, but you also didn’t make it a point to go around and announce it twenty-four seven either. Anyone with a brain and eyes would be able to tell you were together though, especially with the way Satoru always seemed to be attached to your hip and looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That didn’t stop certain girls though.

One of them was feeling particularly ballsy today, approaching where he sat in the dining hall while waiting for you to come back from the bathroom. To anyone else, she was obviously flirting with him. But poor, little, no-experience-with-other-girls Satoru didn’t pick up on it. He held conversation with her until you came back, an eyebrow raised and scowl on your face.

“Oh, hey baby! This is (random name) she’s a transfer student,” he said, beaming as if nothing were wrong. Turning to the other girl, he said “This is my amazing, beautiful girlfriend who I love so much! Maybe the two of you can be friends.”

The girl blinked a couple of times before stiffening under your intense glare. She stammered out some cheap excuse before leaving, which Satoru bought with no questions. The rest of lunch went on normal save for the bitterness you were feeling. You couldn’t even be that mad at your clueless boyfriend; it’s not his fault he was so kind and couldn’t pick up on social ques! He noticed your unusual quietness, asking you if you were alright. You dismissed him, saying you were just tired and you were going to head back to the apartment while he attended his next class.

When Satoru got home, he was expecting you to greet him like you do every time, but the only thing he was greeted by was silence. Around this time you’d usually be on the couch watching your favorite show or maybe doing work on the floor next to the coffee table. Confused for a moment, he concluded that maybe you were sleeping. You did say you were tired, right? You were probably just napping. He quietly crept towards your room and pushed the door open to see you wrapped up in your blankets. Your phone was propped up in front of you playing whatever random youtube video you found after doomscrolling for who knows how long. Happy to see you, your white haired boyfriend was quick to jump into bed next to you and hold your blanket-cocooned body close to him.

“Hi baby!”

“Hi, Satoru,” you grumbled, not doing as much as turning to look at him.

Wait.

‘SATORU’!?

After hearing what you called him, the man screams. Genuinely screams. Who are you and what did you do to his loving, doting girlfriend!? He wasted no time in flipping you over on to your back, hovering above you and looking into your eyes. You were caged beneath him, still sulking and pouting about what happened at lunch today.

“SATORU!!?!?!? What did I ever do to my beautiful, wonderful princess with a disorder to be called by such a name!?”

“That stupid girl from earlier was totally hitting on you!” you whined.

You swear his head could’ve popped like a balloon right now and immediately grown back with how quickly his expression shifted from concerned, to shocked then appalled.

“Oh hell no! How dare she hit on me when I have my pookie right here!? I will literally get your face tattooed on my chest so if a woman ever dare to approach me I’d rip my shirt open like superman to show it off then start barking! ‘Stay away, I’m taken!!!!!’”

“…then they would get to see your chest.”

“Okay nevermind, maybe that’s not a good idea.”

You laughed at him before wiggling your arms out of the blanket cocoon to hug him. How could you stay mad when he was so cute? A wide smile stretched across Satoru’s face as he stopped supporting his own body weight, flopping on top of you and returning your embrace.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“M’not mad anymore. I might have to get you a collar though, make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” you joked.

Little did you know that Satoru was now plotting something.

It’s been a while since that girl approached Satoru, never returning and thus causing you to forget all about it. Your boyfriend stayed true to his word, screaming and barking at whatever girl tried to hit on him after that like a lunatic. You really couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing at this point. Unfortunately for you, it was a friday and you had class while Satoru was off for the week. He walked with you to your first class of the day like he always does then returned home to do whatever it is he spends his time on while you’re away.

Typically, he would laze around the apartment, yelling at people online while playing first person shooters or rewatching every single Batman movie for the billionth time. But today, he had something else in mind. Today happened to be your 3-monthaversary. Very middle school esque, but Satoru couldn’t help it. You were his first everything and the only girl on his mind. He spent the day decorating his room, scattering rose petals down the hall and setting his LED lights to red, aka the freaky color.

“Toru, I’m home-“ you stopped in your tracks after walking through the door. All the lights in the house were off, save for the little battery operated tea candles leading to your boyfriend’s room. You were confused, but followed the candles and rose petals nonetheless. Upon entering his room, you saw heart shaped balloons floating about the space, more rose petals on his bed with your Toru lying propped up on his side in the middle of it all. He’s shirtless with a rose between his teeth and a gift basket in front of him. You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at the sight.

“You dork, what’s this all about?”

"Today marks three months of us being together. Now come get your present!"

You laughed again, this time amused by his enthusiasm, and sat in front of him on the bed. There were so many different things in the gift basket he so lovingly put together for you. There were snacks, refills of your favorite makeup and skincare products, your favorite scented candle and a cute little plushy. In between all those things was a long, short box that you couldn't even begin to guess what was in it.

You glanced up at your boyfriend who was buzzing with excitement before opening it. Upon removing the lid, inside was a baby blue collar with a heart shaped tag on it. You raised an eyebrow in confusion before flipping the tag over to read what it said.

'If lost please return to Y/n L/n'

Your gaze switched between the collar and your boyfriend a couple times before putting two and two together.

“Well…that one’s kind of for me….but it’s still your gift!”

“C’mere then! Let me put it on you,” you beckoned him closer with a smirk.

Satoru wastes no time in leaning closer to you, head tilted up slightly so you can wrap the collar around his neck and buckle it at the front. You sat back to admire the sight of it around his neck, the blue leather matching the very shade of his eyes. You caressed his hair and moved your hand down to his cheek, cooing while he leaned into your touch. After a while of this, your hand moves down to his new collar, giving it a gentle tug towards yourself which elicits a whimper from the male before you. Amused by this, you pressed your lips against his own, keeping your grip around the leather adorning his pretty neck.

Satoru continued to whine and moan into your lips, always being this vocal whenever he’s feeling hot and bothered. You pulled away from him, looking into his half lidded, pleading eyes.

“Oh, my sweet boy. I can’t believe you’d actually wear this for me.”

“Mmmh, I’d do anything for you,” he responds, trying desperately to press his lips back against your own, only to be stopped by the force of your grip around his collar. You chuckled at his needy yelp, lying down on the bed and gently ushering him on top of you. His hands roamed your body while you pulled him back into a kiss, pawing at your tummy, chest or whatever bare skin he could get his hands on. Growing even more needy by the second, Satoru decided that wasn’t enough and started to tug all of your clothes off. You let the white haired man do his thing before helping him shimmy his own remaining clothes off, leaving the both of your bare bodies pressed against each other. Satoru rested his body weight atop of you, slowly rutting his hips against your thigh, silently begging you for what he should do next. His head was resting against your chest, glossy blue orbs looking up at you through his long lashes that batted at you every time he blinked.

Grabbing him by his collar again, this time with both hands, you yanked him back up to be eye level with you once more. The man before you yelped in surprise, cock twitching against you at your newfound roughness.

“Go on, baby. Fuck me like you mean it.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he wasted no time into slipping inside of you. He shivered at the feeling of your slick walls engulfing him, shutting his eyes tight as he focused on building a rhythm. His mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape, thrusting himself into you slow and soft. Unsatisfied with this, you decided you had to bring your boyfriend back down to earth. Satoru’s eyes snapped open and he was awoken from his daze by the sharp sound of a ‘slap!’ and the stinging sensation in his left cheek. He let out a loud moan and his hips bucked up into you before stilling completely, trying his hardest not to cum then and there.

“Eyes on me, pretty boy.”

Shifting his gaze back up to you and seeing that pretty smirk you always wore, he couldn’t help himself for much longer. Wrapping his arms around your waist he quickly began plowing himself into your dripping cunt, doing nothing to contain the breathy ‘aah’s and ‘ohh’s slipping past his kiss bitten lips. He did as he was told, holding eye contact with you as long as he could. Every time his gaze began to slip away or fade out of focus, he was always brought back by the warm buzz each time your palm struck him. Despite your rough behavior, you continued to let out loud moans of your own as a way to let your darling boyfriend know he was doing a good job.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the rhythmic squeaking of his bed frame and the sticky ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his hips meeting yours. Satoru’s body was flushed a pretty shade of pink, skin coated in a sheen of sweat that clung to your own. A mischievous grin spread across your face, letting out an amused laugh when you pinched one of his pert nipples and his hips began to stutter.

“Mmmnh! Noooo, do that and I’ll cum!”

Ignoring his plea you continued your ministrations, legs locking around his hips and trapping him against you. His moans began to grow both in volume and pitch, signaling that he won’t last much longer.

“Cum with me! Fill me up, Toru!”

His pelvis snapped against you one last time, pressing his cock so deep inside you he might puncture a lung. Hot, sticky spurts of seed spilled into you as his back arched into you, head leaning back as far as your grip on his new collar allowed it to. Your legs tightened around him as well, keeping him pressed flushed against you as your weepy pussy gushed around him. Your juices mixed with his load, slowly dripping out from around the base of Satoru’s cock, leaving a creamy mess between your legs.

You let go of his collar and brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, whispering soft praises as you peppered kisses around his face.

“You did so well. My Toru always knows how to please.”

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taglist :) @sorenflyinn @ilovesugurugeto69 @iheartpotatoes @shutuppeter

it wasn't working for mobile sooo hopefully switching to my computer worked