#this is gonna be the last I touch on this though

[enhaflixer]

ENHA HARD HOURS - brat tamer!enhypen x brat f!reader cw(MDNI 18+) : atp idek what to say biting, spitting, explicit hard core stuff. jake's mouth is disgusting as usual and jungwons actions might acc kill me and the rest i just have no words

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

You should’ve known better than to push Heeseung this far.

It had started as a game. A little teasing here and there, brushing him off when he tried to pull you into his lap, dodging his kisses at the last second, giggling when he let out a low, frustrated sigh. You knew exactly what you were doing. You liked the way his patience thinned little by little, how his fingers flexed like he was barely holding himself back. It was a dangerous game—you knew that. But you didn’t care. Not when the reward was watching him unravel.

The real mistake, though, was what you did next. Flirting with Sunghoon had been an impulse decision, one you knew would push Heeseung over the edge. You weren’t stupid. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head as you laughed just a little too sweetly at something Sunghoon said, reaching out to touch his arm for no reason at all. But when you turned to look at Heeseung, expecting to see jealousy, maybe a flash of irritation—his face was completely blank. No reaction at all.

That should have been your first warning.

Later, when he finally grabbed your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it just a little too tightly, his voice was steady, unreadable. “Come home. Now.”

You smiled, tilting your head up at him, smug as ever. “Make me.”

The shift was instant. His grip on your wrist tightened, his jaw tensing as his eyes darkened. Your stomach dropped.You had pushed him too far.

Heeseung barely gave you time to react before you were pinned to the bed. Your wrists were trapped above your head, held in place by one of his hands, his other hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was sharp, cold.He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t playing. This wasn’t part of the game anymore.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was calm—too calm, mocking. “You really thought you could get away with that shit, huh?” His grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch.

You swallowed hard, but refused to break just yet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

SMACK.

A sharp slap landed across your ass, the sting stinging deep, making you jolt. Before you could even react, another followed. Harder. You bit your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but Heeseung just laughed.

“You wanna try that again?” His tone was casual, almost bored.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

Heeseung hummed, tilting his head like he was actually considering it. Then, with a slow, wicked smirk, he let his fingers trail down your body, teasing—but never touching you where you needed it. “Oh, baby,” he sighed, fingers ghosting over your inner thighs, making them twitch. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in so much trouble.”

You lifted your hips, trying to get any kind of friction, but Heeseung pulled away completely, making you whine.

“Oh, no,” he tsked. “You wanna be a brat? Then you don’t get to have me. Not yet.”

You let out a frustrated whimper, squirming beneath him, but he just smirked.

SMACK.

Another sharp slap. Your thighs trembled, the mix of pain and pleasure making your body burn.

“You thought you were so fucking clever today, didn’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Ignoring me. Touching Sunghoon. Flirting right in front of me.” He let out a dark laugh. “Cute.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting you off instantly.

“You really think I’m stupid, baby?” His lips brushed against your ear, his tone dripping with condescension. “You really think I wouldn’t notice you acting like a little slut all night just to get a reaction out of me?”

A shiver ran through your body. You hated how much that word sent heat pooling between your legs. Hated how your body betrayed you every time he talked to you like this.

Heeseung noticed. Of course, he did.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his hand leaving your throat to trail lower. His fingers barely grazed your folds, spreading the wetness he found there. “You’re dripping. Fucking soaked.” He let out a mocking laugh. “God, you really are filthy, aren’t you? You like this, huh?”

You shook your head. “N-no,” you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Heeseung pulled his hand away.

Your stomach dropped.

He sat back, watching you. The loss of contact made you whimper, your thighs pressing together desperately, but he just grinned.

“You don’t get to lie to me, baby.” Heeseung’s voice was dark, velvety, merciless. “You don’t get to act like a little brat and then expect me to fuck you nice and sweet.” He leaned in, lips brushing against yours but not kissing you. “You’re gonna beg for it.”

You swallowed hard, pride hanging by a thread. “P-please…”

“Please what?” he smirked. “Use your fucking words.”

You clenched your fists, frustration building. You wanted him so bad. But he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you broke.

“Please, Heeseung,” you gasped, voice shaking. “Please touch me, I—I need it, I need you—”

Heeseung just sighed. “Mmm. I dunno, sweetheart. You were being such a fucking brat earlier.” He let his fingers tease you again, barely dipping inside you before pulling away, making you cry out.

“Please—”

Another sharp spank.

“You can do better than that.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You couldn’t take it anymore. “I-I’m sorry,” you choked out, desperate, broken. “I was wrong. I’ll be good. Please, I need you, please—”

Heeseung tilted his head, watching you fall apart. Then, finally, his lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk.

“There’s my good girl.”

And then, at last, he ruined you.

Heeseung didn’t let up—didn’t slow down, didn’t let you breathe. He touched you everywhere, made you feel everything, his hands and mouth claiming you so thoroughly you didn’t know where he ended and you began. He didn’t stop until you were a shaking, whimpering mess, barely able to think, barely able to breathe through the pleasure.

As he kissed your temple, soft again, sweet again, he whispered against your damp skin, voice dripping with satisfaction.

“Next time you decide to test me, sweetheart…” He chuckled, low and dark.

“Remember how fucking bad you begged for me.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay had always been a giver.

The kind of man who put you first, no matter what. The kind who kissed your ankles before trailing up your thighs, who held your face so tenderly when he pressed his lips against yours. The kind who worshipped your body like it was his sole purpose in life to make you feel good.

Which is why, when you first brought up the idea of bratting, he had just laughed.

“Baby,” he had sighed, shaking his head with pure adoration. “You know I could never be mean to you.”

You had just smirked. “We’ll see.”

It had been too easy to get under his skin.

You knew exactly how to poke at his restraint. How to test the limits of his patience. It started small—pushing his hands off you when he tried to touch you, rolling your eyes when he kissed your neck. When he pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist?

You huffed dramatically and stood up, brushing yourself off.

“Nah. Not in the mood.”

Jay had blinked up at you, brows raising slightly, clearly taken aback. You watched the way his jaw tensed just a little,the way his fingers curled into his lap before he exhaled, forcing a smile.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gentle as always. “Let me know when you are.”

That was your first mistake.

Because you had wanted him to snap. You had wanted him to take control. Jay, sweet, patient Jay, had tried so fucking hard not to.

But the moment you rolled your eyes again? The moment you let out a small, dismissive scoff?

That patience shattered.

One second, you were standing. The next, you were on your knees.

Jay had grabbed your wrist, yanked you down in front of him, and before you could even process it, his fingers were gripping your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“You wanna act like a brat, baby?” His voice was low, tight, dangerous. “Fine. But now, you’re gonna fucking take care of me first.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jay had never been selfish. Never taken before giving. Never used you for his own pleasure. But now?

Now, he was looking down at you like he was going to ruin you.

He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing. “I spend all my time making you feel good,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down, brushing over your collarbone, tracing the delicate lines of your body before moving lower. “And you wanna act up? Act like you don’t fucking need me?”

His fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your face up.

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” he sighed, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. “Then tonight, it’s about me.”

Your lips parted, breath catching.

Jay just chuckled.

“Open.”

Your thighs clenched. But you obeyed.

The moment your mouth parted, Jay’s fingers slipped inside, pressing against your tongue, his eyes darkening as he felt the wet heat of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now let’s put that bratty little mouth to work.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Jay reached down, undoing his belt with deliberate slowness, watching your face the entire time. You could see it—the way his chest rose and fell just a little heavier, the way his fingers twitched with anticipation.

But then, when he finally pulled himself out, you whimpered.

“That’s right, baby.” His hand threaded into your hair, gripping just tight enough to make your scalp tingle. “I don’t want you teasing. I don’t want you playing.” He leaned down, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. “I want you to take it. All of it.”

Fuck. Fuck.

You barely had time to react before he was pushing past your lips, slow but deep, groaning as he felt you stretch around him. His head tilted back for a second, his throat bobbing, his breath hitching.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice wrecked already. His hand tightened in your hair, keeping you still as he pushed deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, making your eyes sting with tears.

Jay groaned. A deep, primal sound, his thighs tensing as he held you there for a second, letting you feel it.

Then, he pulled back. Not all the way—just enough to let you breathe before he thrust back in, slow but rough, making you choke slightly.

You whimpered, drool slipping past the corner of your lips. Jay cursed under his breath, wiping it away with his thumb, smearing it across your cheek.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his tone taunting. “Like being used. Like being fucked open.” His grip on your hair tightened, tugging your head back slightly before thrusting back into your mouth, making you gag. “Not so bratty now, huh?”

Your thighs pressed together, the heat between your legs unbearable. You wanted to touch yourself so fucking badly,but Jay noticed the way you squirmed.

He laughed.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warned, breathless. “You don’t get to touch yourself. Not after the shit you pulled tonight.”

You let out a muffled whine, and Jay groaned again, his head dropping forward, pressing against the wall behind him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking good for me now, huh? Taking me so well. Not a single complaint.” His fingers brushed against your cheek, soft again, affectionate. “That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His hips jerked forward, losing rhythm, and you knew he was getting close. His thighs were tensing, his stomach flexing. His breathing was ragged, desperate.

Then, his fingers slid to your jaw, gripping just tight enough to make you look up at him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he muttered, his voice low, ruined. “Wanna see that pretty little face when I cum.”

He broke right then and there.

Jay groaned your name, his hips snapping forward, his abs contracting hard as he spilled down your throat, his entire body shuddering. He held you there, panting, shaking, his fingers brushing over your lips as he watched you swallow everything he gave you.

Then, after a long moment, he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Fuck,” he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, his cheeks flushed, his eyes hazy. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, sweetheart.”

You licked your lips, giving him a sly, innocent look.

“So…” You tilted your head. “Did I push you far enough?”

Jay just shook his head, grinning.“Baby,” he murmured, leaning down, lifting you up with ease and throwing you onto the couch. “We’re just getting started.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake had never been this fucking angry before.

Not at you. Not at anyone.

It started small—just a disagreement, a little back and forth, nothing serious. But you had been pushing him. You had wanted this.

And now?

Now, he was burning with it.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this?” Jake snapped, standing across from you, his fingers digging into his scalp as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You wanna piss me off? Is that what you fucking want?”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the couch like you weren’t intentionally trying to get under his skin. “I’m not doing anything, Jake. You’re the one getting worked up.”

His jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath, like he was physically restraining himself from losing it completely. “Worked up? You’ve been a fucking brat all day. Ignoring me, rolling your eyes, mouthing off like you don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re intimidating, Jake. You’re not.”

His jaw clenched. Hard.

“Try me.”

You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his entire body had tensed up, his hands curled into fists at his sides. But you weren’t done.

Not yet.

“You don’t scare me,” you said, tilting your chin up at him. “You act all cocky, but you let people walk all over you, Jake. You’re too nice. Too fucking soft.”

Jake let out a bitter, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking full of shit.”

“You know I’m right.” You shrugged, the smirk playing at your lips. “You pretend you’re in control, but let’s be real—you don’t even know how to take what you want.”

That did it.

His head snapped up, his eyes burning, his patience completely fucking gone.

“You wanna see me take what I want?” His voice was low, dangerous, lethal. “Careful what you fucking ask for, sweetheart.”

You should have stopped. Should have backed down, should have apologized.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you said the worst fucking thing of your life.

“Y’know, he could probably make me cum faster than you can.”

Silence.

Jake’s entire body locked up. His head tilted slightly, his lips parting like he wasn’t sure he heard you correctly.

In an instant, he was in front of you, his hand wrapping around your jaw, gripping it hard enough to make your lips part.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

His eyes were burning, his fingers digging into your skin, his entire body shaking with barely-contained rage.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling, heart hammering in your ribs.

But you were too far gone.

You smirked.

That was it.

Before you could even breathe, Jake had yanked you onto the couch, shoved you down, and spread you the fuck open.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

No teasing. No warm-up. No fucking foreplay.

His hands gripped your thighs so hard you knew there would be bruises. He ripped your panties down with one sharp tug, the fabric burning against your skin as he yanked them past your thighs.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds, spreading the mess you had already made all over yourself. His touch was slow, taunting, humiliating.

“You’re fucking dripping. You like this, don’t you?” His voice was low, mocking, pure condescension. He let out another chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Such a dirty little bitch. Talking about another man when you’re this fucking wet for me.”

You bit your lip, hands digging into the cushions, your body betraying you, trembling in anticipation.

Jake noticed. Of course, he did.

His grin turned wicked, dark, completely unhinged. “Bet if I slapped this nasty little cunt, you’d fucking moan, wouldn’t you?”

Your entire body tensed.

“Jake—”

SMACK.

A sharp, stinging slap landed directly against your clit, the sudden shock ripping a strangled gasp from your throat,your back arching completely off the couch.

Jake’s breath shuddered, his cock straining against his jeans, his fingers flexing against your thighs like he was barely holding himself back.

“Oh, you fucking liked that.” His voice was pure filth. He tilted his head, watching the way your thighs twitched, the way your hips subtly shifted like you wanted more.

“God, baby, you’re disgusting.” His fingers spread you open again, admiring the way your slick dripped down onto the couch. “You got my fucking couch messy. Dirty fucking slut.”

This was a man on a fucking mission.

His tongue was rough, filthy, relentless, flicking against your swollen clit so fast you couldn’t even process it. His lips wrapped around it, sucking with obscene, wet sounds, his breath heavy, ragged, completely unhinged.

And then—he bit you.

Your scream tore through the room, your thighs clamping shut around his head, your back arching off the couch.

Jake groaned into you, loud and filthy, gripping your legs and forcing them apart again, holding you wide fucking open.

“Keep running your mouth now, baby,” he murmured against your cunt, his voice low, ruined, mean. “Tell me again how someone else could fuck you better than me. Say it, I fucking dare you.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t fucking breathe.

Jake just laughed.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Without warning—his fingers slammed inside you.

Deep. Hard. Perfect.

The stretch burned, his pace ruthless, unforgiving, fucking into you like he wanted to break you. His tongue flicked over your clit again, biting down every time you made a sound.

You sobbed, your body convulsing, your hips trying to jerk away.

Jake’s grip tightened.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart. You’re not fucking going anywhere.”

His voice was pure sin.

“You’re gonna sit the fuck still and take it.”

You whimpered, shaking your head, begging for something—anything—but Jake just fucking laughed again, low and mean, before spitting on your cunt, spreading the mess with his tongue.

“Messy fucking whore.”

Your orgasm hit you like a fucking truck, tearing through you so violently you screamed, legs shaking as you came so hard you thought you might black out.

But Jake?

Jake didn’t stop.

“Oh, you thought we were done?” He snorted, mean and mocking. “Nah, sweetheart. You wanted to talk shit?”

He sucked your clit back into his mouth, moaning at the taste.

“Now you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Your second orgasm ripped through you instantly, your entire body spasming, your hips trying to jerk away, but Jake just gripped you tighter, forcing you to sit on his face, to fucking ride his tongue.

And then, before you could even breathe, your entire body tensed—

Liquid gushed out of you.

Hard.

All over his face, his chin, soaking the couch beneath you, your body completely convulsing.

Jake let out a wrecked, breathy groan, his hips grinding into the floor, his tongue still fucking working you open, still fucking sucking every last drop from you.

But even then—he didn’t stop.

“Oh, you’re fucking crying now?” He mocked, his fingers still slamming into you, deep and fast. “Poor fucking baby. Can’t take what she asked for?”

You sobbed, your body completely wrecked, completely useless.

You tried to say something—beg him, plead, say anything, but the words barely even formed, coming out in a broken, trembling whimper.

Jake just laughed, mean and taunting, his tongue dragging over your clit again, biting down hard enough to make you scream.

“Shut the fuck up, baby.” His voice was low, dangerous, dripping with dominance. “If you’re not gonna scream like the filthy little cumslut you are, then don’t fucking speak.”

He went back in.

Biting, sucking, bruising.

Forcing another, and another, and another orgasm out of you until you couldn’t even move, couldn’t even think, your entire body trembling.

By the time he was done, by the time he had wrung you out so many times you had nothing left to give, your skin covered in bite marks, bruises, your body shaking from overstimulation, you finally realized,

You had never stood a fucking chance.

Jake licked his lips, panting, his face completely soaked with you, his hair damp with sweat. He leaned up, hovering over your wrecked, ruined body, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

His voice was raw, low, unrecognizable.

“Next time you even think about talking shit, sweetheart?”

He licked a stripe up your neck, biting your bottom lip so hard you whimpered.“Remember who the fuck owns this filthy little cunt.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon had told you.

He had warned you before locking himself in his office, his voice low, steady, and unwavering. He hadn’t said it cruelly—he never needed to raise his voice to make you listen.

“I have to work all day today. Don’t bother me.”

That should have been enough.

Should have been the end of it.

But you were a brat. And Sunghoon’s biggest mistake was telling you not to do something.

So you made a plan.

A stupid, reckless, fucked-up plan.

Standing in the doorway of his office, completely naked, you knew you had just set yourself up for a punishment you wouldn’t survive.

Sunghoon was mid-Zoom meeting, voice smooth and professional, his fingers flying across the keyboard, posture straight and focused—completely oblivious to what you were about to do.

Until you grabbed a chair, dragged it right in front of his desk, and sat down—spreading your legs wide, running your fingers between your thighs, putting on a fucking show.

For him.

For your boyfriend who had told you not to bother him.

For the man who hated being disrespected.

For Park Sunghoon, who had never been soft on you when you misbehaved.

You caught the moment he noticed.

His fingers paused on the keyboard. His posture straightened. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

But he didn’t react.

Didn’t scold you. Didn’t glare.

He ignored you.

Kept his fucking cool, continued speaking in that deep, controlled voice like you weren’t sitting right in front of him, fingers slipping between your thighs, chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths.

That was the moment you knew.

You were so fucking done for.

At first, you teased yourself slowly, dragging your fingers through your folds, dipping them in just enough to make yourself gasp. You moaned, softly at first, letting your body relax into the chair, enjoying the power you thought you had.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward you once, just for a second, before going back to his screen.

It wasn’t enough.

So you got louder.

Your fingers worked deeper, faster, two slipping inside, curling against that spot that made your hips jerk, made your breath stutter. Your free hand trailed up your stomach, pinching your nipples, tugging and rolling them, whimpering as you squeezed your thighs together.

Still, he ignored you.

Kept typing, kept nodding at whatever the hell his coworker was saying, his voice even and smooth, unfazed.

You moaned again, louder than necessary, making sure every single sound you made filled the quiet room.

Nothing.

Sunghoon didn’t react, didn’t break, didn’t give you a single ounce of satisfaction.

You knew he was angry. You could feel it. The tension in his jaw, the stiffness of his shoulders, the way he kept adjusting in his seat, shifting like he was trying to control himself.

But he wouldn’t give in.

So you made yourself cum.

Right in front of him.

Loud. Messy. Desperate.

Your fingers curled deep, your back arching as you rode out your first orgasm, moaning his name, gasping for air as your thighs trembled, squeezing together from the aftershocks.

Still, Sunghoon ignored you.

Kept working.

Didn’t give you so much as a glance.

So you did it again.

Your fingers found your clit this time, rubbing messy, fast circles, your hips rolling against your own touch, your body already so sensitive it was almost painful. The second orgasm hit you even harder, tearing through your body so violently that you almost cried.

Sunghoon reached out and muted himself mid-sentence.

Then, he looked at you.

Just once.

His look alone made your stomach drop.

It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t hunger.

It was pure fucking rage.

You barely had time to process it before his meeting ended, and the moment the screen went black—

He stood up.

You gasped, trying to scramble out of the chair, trying to run, but it was too fucking late.

Sunghoon was on you, gripping your throat, yanking you up so effortlessly it made your head spin.

His fingers squeezed, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see the way his eyes burned with something dark, something dangerous.

“You really don’t listen, do you?” His voice was calm, controlled, but terrifying.

Your breath was shaky, your naked body trembling in his grasp.

“I—I just thought you needed a break,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon just laughed. A low, dark sound that made your stomach twist.

“You thought you could distract me?” His fingers tightened just slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you whimper. “You really think you’re that fucking irresistible?”

Before you could answer, he flipped you around and bent you over the desk.

And then?

Nothing.

Sunghoon ignored you.

Just stood there, his hands running over every inch of your body, touching you everywhere except where you needed him most.

His fingers ghosted over your back, up your spine, over your shoulders. They squeezed your ass, traced the curve of your hips, gripped the inside of your thighs.

They dragged lower.

Lower.

Lower—

But not there.

Sunghoon’s hands brushed over your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone, your thighs, your calves, your fucking ankles. He gripped everything. Worshipped everything. Squeezed, kneaded, traced.

But he didn’t touch you there.

Didn’t give you what you needed.

That was when you realized—this was your punishment.

Your frustration boiled over, your body trembling with how badly you needed him.

“Please, Sunghoon,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back, desperate, aching.

Nothing.

His fingers grazed over your tightest hole, teasing, circling, but never pushing in.

You let out a shaky sob, frustration burning in your chest, tears stinging your eyes.

“Fucking touch me.”

Sunghoon grinned against your shoulder, completely entertained.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, cruel, mocking. “So fucking desperate.”

You shook in his grip, letting out a full, wrecked sob.

Sunghoon just chuckled, dark and dangerous, lips brushing against your ear.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Cry.” His voice was low, deadly, dripping with amusement.

“You should’ve thought about that before acting like a needy little slut.”

He kept going.

Kept ignoring you.

Kept teasing you. Kept teaching you exactly why you should never fucking disobey Park Sunghoon.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo loved to act like he was the one in control. He liked to roll his eyes when you tested him, sigh dramatically whenever you got a little too bratty, flash that smug little smirk when he thought he had you wrapped around his finger.He’d tilt his head, raise a brow, and say something teasing, something condescending, something that made it seem like he wasn’t affected by your games. But that was a lie.

Because Sunoo had no fucking restraint.

When you pushed him too far, he didn’t just put you in your place.

He dragged you down with him.

It started as a stupid little game. You wanted to see how much teasing he could handle before he finally broke. Sunoo was always trying to act like he was in charge, like he had all the power, like he could handle whatever you threw at him. So naturally, you wanted to prove him wrong. You started small—brushing off his touches, sighing when he kissed you, glancing at your phone when he tried to pull you onto his lap. Sunoo noticed immediately. He wasn’t the type to ignore things like this, and you could tell by the way he shifted in his seat, the way his fingers drummed against his knee, the way his tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he tried so hard to keep his composure.

But Sunoo wasn’t calm.

Sunoo wasn’t patient.

Sunoo wasn’t the brat tamer.

Sunoo was just as much of a brat as you were.

So when you looked at him with a smirk and whispered, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Sunoo snapped.

His entire body froze for half a second, like his brain needed to process what you had just said, and then suddenly, you weren’t sitting anymore. He had shoved you onto the bed so fast you barely had time to gasp, his hands gripping your thighs, pinning you down beneath him, straddling your hips like he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even a second. His face was inches from yours, his eyes dark, his lips parted, his breath heavy.

“You think you can just say shit like that?” His voice was high, breathy, trembling slightly— not from fear or hesitation, but from pure fucking need. His fingers trailed up your sides, gripping, squeezing, touching everything he could, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed against your jaw, then your neck, then your collarbone, kissing, sucking, licking, mouthing at your skin like he needed it to survive.

“You think I can’t—fuck—you think I can’t handle you?” His hips rutted against yours, desperate, sloppy, uncoordinated, completely unhinged. His hands were everywhere, on your waist, on your chest, sliding down to your thighs, gripping hard enough to bruise.

Sunoo wasn’t holding back anymore.

Sunoo was completely fucking gone.

“Oh my god, I hate you,” he whined, voice high and breathless, but his body contradicted him entirely as he pressed himself closer, rolling his hips against you like he couldn’t stand not being buried in you already. It was so Sunoo—messy, chaotic, too fast, too much, all at once, no control, no restraint. His hands were shaking as he touched every inch of your skin, as if he needed to feel you everywhere at once.

“You don’t hate me,” you teased, gasping when he squeezed your waist hard, his nails digging in.

“I do,” he muttered, lips dragging over your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “I do. I hate you so much. You make me like this. You make me—ah—” His words broke off into a shaky moan, high and breathy, as his hips stuttered against you, completely lost in the moment.

Then, you broke.

Because Sunoo wasn’t controlling you anymore.

You weren’t controlling him.

There was no winner.

Just messy, unrestrained, mind-numbing desperation.

By the time it was over, by the time the room had gone still, your bodies tangled together, chests heaving, skin damp with sweat, Sunoo let out a weak, breathless laugh, burying his face against your shoulder. His hands were still gripping your thighs, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“We’re both fucking idiots.” His voice was hoarse, exhausted.

You huffed out a laugh, fingers tracing lazy circles against his back. “Yeah. But it’s your fault.”

Sunoo groaned, rolling onto his side, covering his face with his hands, his whole body still twitching from overstimulation.

“We are never doing that again,” he muttered.

You just smirked, glancing over at him.

“Sunoo.”

“Don’t.”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

He groaned dramatically, dragging a pillow over his face.

“I hate you.”

Maybe next time, neither of you should try to win.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon wasn’t easily impressed.

He had infinite patience for other people—for business associates, for important guests, for those who needed to be handled with grace. He could smile, shake hands, make polite conversation without breaking a sweat.

You were the only one who could push him to his fucking limit.

And you knew it.

So when he had told you, very clearly, that tonight’s dinner was important—not to play games, not to act up, not to try him in public—

You did it anyway.

Because you were a brat.

Because you wanted to see just how far you could take it before Jungwon lost control.

You were going to suffer for it.

It had started subtly.

You had played nice for the first half of the evening—smiling sweetly, making polite conversation, sitting quietly beside him in the private dining room of a luxurious five-star restaurant.

Just when things were going smoothly, you pressed your hand onto his thigh.

Jungwon didn’t react.

Didn’t even glance at you.

He kept talking, voice smooth, composed, his posture completely relaxed.

So you took it further.

Your fingers traced slow, teasing circles on his inner thigh, inching higher, barely brushing over him.

Still, he didn’t react.

But then, just as you leaned in, just as your fingers moved a little too high—

His hand clamped down on your thigh, fingers digging in so hard you knew there would be bruises.

You barely managed to keep your gasp quiet.

Jungwon turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see the sharp, dark look in his eyes.

A warning.

But you only smirked.

And that was the last mistake you’d make tonight.

The ride back to the hotel was silent.

Jungwon didn’t speak, didn’t touch you, didn’t even look at you.

Somehow, that was worse.

Because you could feel it radiating off of him—the quiet rage, the suffocating control, the slow, creeping tension in the way his fingers flexed against his thigh.

By the time you reached the penthouse suite, you barely had time to breathe before he grabbed you.

One second, you were stepping inside—the next, your back was slammed against the door, his fingers gripping your chin, forcing your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Try that again.” His voice was low, cold, sharp enough to cut. “See what happens if you ever pull that shit in front of people again.”

Your breath caught, your body buzzing with adrenaline, with anticipation, with the sheer intensity of his stare.

Jungwon scoffed, shaking his head. “You think this is funny?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm but his words pure ice.

“Maybe next time, I should just fuck you in front of everyone. Make you cum on my cock while they watch.”

Your entire body tensed.

Jungwon grinned against your skin, feeling the way your breath hitched.

“Oh?” He pulled back slightly, tilting his head. “You don’t like that idea?” His fingers tightened around your chin, his grip firm, unyielding. “Then why the fuck would you act like a filthy little whore under the table?”

Your stomach twisted, heat pooling between your legs.

Jungwon let out a dark, humorless laugh.

“You’re pathetic.”

In one smooth motion, he spun you around, pressing you against the massive floor-to-ceiling window, forcing you to look down at the glittering city lights.

“You wanna put on a fucking show?” His hands gripped your hips, forcing your legs apart. “Then fucking take it, slut.”

Swiftly, he ripped your dress open.

The sharp sound of fabric tearing sent a shock through your body, your bare chest now exposed to the cold glass.

“Fucking look at yourself,” he muttered, pressing a hand against your spine, arching your back until your tits were flush against the freezing window.

Violent, he spat on your back.

The shock of it made you whimper, made your skin burn, made your entire body lock up.

“That’s all you’re fucking good for,” Jungwon muttered, rubbing his hand over the mess, smearing it across your skin before grabbing the back of your neck, pushing your face against the glass.

And then—he fucked you.

Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.

Each thrust pressed you further against the window, your breath fogging up the glass, your body trembling as pleasure and pain blurred together into something unrecognizable.

But Jungwon wasn’t fucking done with you.

He dragged you onto the balcony.

The cool night air kissed your burning skin, but Jungwon didn’t give you time to adjust before he forced you onto your knees, his chest pressed against your back as he spread your legs wide, making sure you were completely exposed to the city below. 

“You wanted my attention?” His voice was venomous, sharp, pure dominance. “Then fucking take it.”

His fingers plunged into you, rough, punishing, fucking you open with no mercy, no hesitation. 

“Look at you,” he sneered, forcing your head up, making sure your eyes locked on the city skyline, the streets below where anyone could look up and see you. “A desperate little slut, dripping down my fucking hand.”

His fingers curled against that devastating spot inside you, making your thighs shake, making your breath hitch, making you arch helplessly against him.

“You wanna be seen?” His voice was pure sin in your ear, his free hand gripping your throat. “Then fucking scream.”

What were you if not obedient?

You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing, pleasure bursting so violently that liquid gushed from you, soaking his hand, the balcony floor, leaving you shaking, spent, completely wrecked. 

Jungwon groaned against your ear, his grip tightening, his hand still working you through the aftershocks. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he murmured, rubbing the mess against your thighs, against your clit, overstimulating you until you were sobbing, your body twitching in his grasp. “So fucking pretty.”

Your entire body trembled, your mind completely wrecked.

Only then—only when he was satisfied—did he finally let you rest.

But later, when the night was over, when he had carried you into the warm, soapy bath, his hands gentle as they massaged your sore muscles, he was different.

Soft.

Loving.

His lips brushed over your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice warm, teasing. “Even when you’re a fucking menace.”

You giggled, and he laughed too, his chest shaking against your back, his arms wrapping around you tighter.

“I’m so fucking happy I married you.” His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft, reverent kisses. “Even if you make me insane.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

You never learned your lesson.

No matter how many times Niki put you in your place, no matter how many times he warned you that your bratty antics would come back to bite you, you just couldn’t help yourself.

You really pushed him.

It started with small things—ignoring his texts on purpose, pretending not to hear him when he spoke, rolling your eyes at his teasing. But what really set him off was when you stole his hoodie and sprinted across the apartment, laughing over your shoulder as he called your name.

That was your biggest mistake.

Because the second you ran, Niki’s entire demeanor changed.

“Oh, you’re dead,” he muttered under his breath, amusement laced with something darker.

He chased you.

You barely made it to the bedroom before he tackled you onto the mattress, effortlessly pinning you down with his weight, your wrists trapped above your head. His face was close—too close—his grin sharp and smug as you squirmed underneath him.

“You think you’re funny?” His voice was all playful mockery, but the firm grip on your wrists told a different story.

You only pouted in response, refusing to give in so easily. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Niki scoffed. “Nah, you know exactly what you did.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing mischievously. “And now, you have to pay for it.”

Your stomach flipped.

Niki had a habit of punishing you in the worst possible ways—not with pain, not with cruelty, but with something so much more unbearable.

Teasing.

And when he suddenly straddled your hips, pinning you down further, you knew you were screwed.

“You wanna act like a brat?” His fingers suddenly ghosted over your sides, making you jolt. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Before you could react, he started tickling you mercilessly.

“NI—NIKI, STOP!” you screeched, thrashing under him, laughter spilling from your lips against your will.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” he teased, his hands never relenting as they roamed over your ribs, your stomach, your hips—every spot he knew made you weak. “Where’d all that attitude go?”

You tried to kick him off, but he was so much stronger than you, effortlessly keeping you trapped beneath him.

“N-Niki, please!”

He smirked. “Please what? I thought you liked messing with me.” His hands finally slowed, giving you a moment to catch your breath—just before he leaned down, lips brushing against your ear.

“You wanna know what your real punishment is?” he whispered, voice lower, deeper.

You shivered.

Niki suddenly grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, pressing them against the mattress while his free hand trailed down your stomach, slow and deliberate.

“You don’t get to touch me.”

Your breath hitched.

He grinned at your reaction, fingers teasing over your thighs without really giving you what you wanted. “You can squirm, you can beg, you can cry—doesn’t matter. You’re not getting anything until I say so.”

Your body ached with frustration. “You’re so annoying,” you huffed.

He just laughed, tilting his head. “Oh? I thought I was so fun to mess with?”

You wanted to argue, but then his fingers brushed exactly where you needed them, and suddenly, words weren’t so easy to find.

But just as quickly as the touch came—he stopped.

You whimpered. “Niki—”

“Shhh,” he cooed mockingly. “You wanna be a brat? Then act like one—squirm all you want, but you’re not coming until I let you.”

And oh, did he take his sweet time.

For what felt like forever, Niki toyed with you, pushing you right to the edge only to pull away at the last second. Every time you got too close, he’d stop completely, watching as you whined in frustration, your body burning with need.

“You��re so easy to break,” he mused, chuckling at your trembling form. “Maybe next time, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

And then—finally, finally—he gave you what you wanted.

But even then?

Even then?

He made sure you paid for it.

Because he didn’t let you come just once.

He made you beg for it.

Over. And over. And over.

Until you were completely, utterly wrecked—panting, spent, boneless under him.

And only then did he loosen his grip on your wrists, kissing your cheek as if he hadn’t just tortured you for the past hour.

“See?” He grinned, nuzzling against your neck. “You should just behave next time.”

You glared at him weakly. “I hate you.”

Niki only laughed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. “You love me.”

And annoyingly enough?

He was right.

-

Taglist: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @zzhengyu @ijustwannareadstuff20 @annybah @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @inlovewithningning @mellowgalaxystrawberry @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @somuchdard

[cherryvyxen]

"𝗥𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀"

Paige x f! reader - Wnba

Synopsis -

You're a rising star on a rival team, and the media LOVES pitting you two against each other. What they don’t know? You’re secretly hooking up off the court. But when real feelings start to bloom, things get complicated—and messy.

Word Count: 3.3k

The tension between you and Paige Bueckers could fill an entire arena.

Every time you step on the court, it’s the same dance—sharp words exchanged under your breath, shoves masked as "defense", and those lingering stares that make both crowds and commentators buzz with speculation.

They call it the rivalry of the season.

If only they knew the truth.

If only they knew that last night, Paige had you pinned against the wall of her hotel room, lips on your neck, hands tracing every inch of you like she couldn’t get close enough.

But today? Today, she’s smirking at you from across the court, blue eyes sparkling like she knows she got under your skin—because she did.

And now you’re standing at the free-throw line, trying to focus, trying to ignore the way her gaze lingers on you like a physical touch.

“You gonna make it, or choke like usual?” she taunts, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shoot her a glare, lips twitching despite yourself. “You wish, Bueckers.”

The ball hits the rim and swishes through the net.

Crowd erupts.

But your heart's thudding for a different reason.

Because later, when the final buzzer sounds and your team barely edges out the win, you can feel her burning gaze as you head toward the locker room.

And sure enough, as soon as you’re alone, still high off adrenaline and sweat, Paige appears like she owns the place—leaning casually against the door, arms crossed, that damn smirk still there.

“Congrats on the win,” she says, voice low, teasing. “Guess even you get lucky sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your jersey onto the bench. “Funny. Pretty sure I earned that win. Maybe you’re just slipping.”

She raises a brow, stepping closer, eyes scanning you in a way that makes your breath catch—because now it’s just the two of you, and no one can see how she looks at you like that.

"Slipping?" she echoes, now inches away. "You didn’t seem to think so last night."

Your heart stutters.

Because damn her. She always does this—taunts you until you snap, until you want her again, even though you know how complicated it is.

“You’re cocky for someone who just lost,” you mutter, but your voice is softer, weaker than you want it to be, because her hand is now resting on your hip, fingers curling into your skin like she belongs there.

“I don’t mind losing to you,” she murmurs, leaning in, lips grazing your ear. “But I’m not leaving here without getting what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you whisper, though you already know.

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You.”

The word hits you hard—because you don’t know if she means just for tonight, or if she’s finally admitting to more.

Because you feel more. And that’s what makes this dangerous.

Still, your hands find her waist before you can stop yourself, pulling her close. “You’re a mess, Bueckers.”

“And you love it.”

You hate how right she is.

Her lips are on yours before you can reply, hot and desperate, tasting like the energy of the game still lingering in both of you. She kisses like she plays—aggressive, relentless, like she’s fighting for control.

But tonight, you fight back—pushing her against the locker, nails dragging lightly over her arms, making her shiver.

"Thought you were tired after all that losing," you tease against her lips, smirking when she groans softly.

“You talk too much,” she breathes, tilting her head to kiss you harder, deeper, like she wants to drown out every word.

But when you pull back, breathless, there’s something raw in her eyes—something that makes your chest tighten.

“Why do we do this?” you whisper, fingers still tangled in her jersey. “Act like we hate each other when…”

When I’m scared I might actually love you.

Her hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a rare gentle touch. “Because it’s easier than admitting what this is,” she says quietly.

You swallow hard, leaning into her touch without meaning to. “And what is this?”

Her eyes search yours, vulnerable in a way that knocks the air out of you. “I don’t know," she whispers. "But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you every second of the day.”

You feel like you can’t breathe. Because for the first time, the mask is gone—no smirks, no snarky comebacks. Just Paige.

“Paige…”

Her name feels strange on your tongue when it’s not said with an edge.

She leans her forehead against yours, closing her eyes. “I know we’re supposed to be rivals. I know everyone’s watching. But when I’m with you… I don’t care about any of that.”

Your heart aches. Because you know exactly what she means.

“I don’t wanna hide anymore,” you admit quietly.

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh, pulling you closer, her arms around your waist now. “Good. Because I don’t think I can.”

There’s a knock on the locker room door, a voice calling her name, and reality comes crashing back—but she doesn’t let you go.

"Come over later?" she whispers, hopeful, vulnerable.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah.”

She smiles—soft and real—and presses one last kiss to your lips, like a promise.

As she walks away, you realize the rivalry might still play out in public, but behind closed doors?

She’s yours.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be more than a game.

[fewwwgoodwomen]

hiiii could u prettyyy pleasssee do sub namgyu hcs??

Sub!Nam-gyu Headcanons !!

(A/N:I've never done hcs before so bear with me !! This is a new concept to me hahah)

-sfw

•Nam-gyu loves physical touch from you even if he hates admitting it.

"Do that thing with my hair again." "Yeah i hate it.. but my head hurts right now." "I didn't say that yesterday."

•Whenever Nam-gyu finishes his stash of drugs, he gets even more clingy towards you.

"I swear.. you ARE better than my drugs..." "No... i didn't finish them.. what makes you think that?"

•Nam-gyu thinks you look hot when you're high with him, especially when you get extra affectionate.

•He loves tucking your hair to the side , mirroring the habit he does to himself, denying it each time.

"Its not my habit, stupid. I just don't want hair all over your face."

•he loves laying on your chest and hugging your waist, especially when hes high.

"No, I'm not high this time. Yes, i do smell like weed, but that's not the point..."

•Would get you matching rings with him.

"I dont fucking hide my hands with my sleeves. Just please get these with me.."

•Mindlessly follows you anywhere.

"Dude, Shut up... I'm not following you... you're just.. who i wanna go to."

•Will never admit that you're right, even when its painfully obvious

"I do not bite my nails, you're thinking of another dude." "No? The lady at the salon fucked it up, it wasn't bitten off."

•He likes playing hard to get even though he'll submit within minutes.

"You miss me? Use your legs and walk to the room then." "What do you mean you won't do it? Lazy ass bitch. Yes I'm walking there. Whatever. Okay okay.. i won't call you that again."

•Disturbs you at random points just to ask you stupid questions

"Psst.. Do you think cats could get high?" "No. Its just, i don't know where my last edible went, and the cat is acting weird."

•Loves it when you kiss his neck

•Has the habit to swear in every sentence, especially when he talks about you.

"You're so fucking weird, like not in a bad way but not in a fucking good way either, you just make me feel shit like-- Shut up, i don't swear THAT fucking much."

-Nsfw

•even though he tries to hold it, hes very vocal and loud

"A-ah.. Fuck. You're so quiet, i-its making me sound loud --mmh~!"

•hates getting edged but loves begging you

"S-stop fucking edging me like this you w-whore.. a-agh~.. please.. just let me cum.."

•loves it when you ride him, especially when you tie him up.

"If youre going to edge me.. a-aah~! Atleast.. tie me up... f-fuck..!"

•he doesn't admit it but he loves it when you spit on him

"S-stop spitting on me.. i-i can't.. its so..f-fuck..~" "N-no, i didn't lick it off my lips."

•his fav place for you to spit on would be his mouth , face or his cock

•He'd be into motorboating your titties

"Please.. fuck.. take off your bra.. just this once.. please..?"

•he jerks off a lot to pictures or videos of you when you aren't there

"Please let me take this photo of you.. i swear im not gonna nut on it or something."

•He likes it when you pull his hair

•He likes acting all bitchy towards you because he knows you'll make him feel so good no matter what.

"S-shut the fuck up.. y-your pussy isn't that tight-- ngh~!"

•hes into overstimulation, anything to make his girl feel good.

•He'd beg you to do one more round even though deep down he can't last the moment he's inside you

"Please.. one more.. I'll fucking do anything... i'll last longer than 5 minutes please please please... i-i want that pussy."

•most of the time its you giving him aftercare and he loves being babied by you.

"Yeah women totally deserve aftercare but you made me cum 7 times. Can you please just do it this once..? No, I didn't ask you that last round."

•would do anything to be able to cum inside you

"Please please please.... let me fucking cum inside you..i swear ill be good.. i wont call you a whore ever again.."

•Likes to film whenever you guys have sex, so he could jerk off to the footage later on.

"No no no.. don't move it.. i like seeing your ass in that angle.." "Shut up. I-its for memories.. and.. you sound hot on video, thats all, i swear!"

•He likes to have you soak up edibles in your mouth just to spit it in his mouth when you guys make out.

"Fuuck.. soak it up just like that and spit it out on my tongue" "Shut up, its not THAT gross."

•He loves getting degraded by you, even though half the time he insults you.

"Y-yeah.. i fucking get i-it... i'm a manwhore.. just for you.. mmh~!"

•Likes putting obscure music when you guys fuck

"Please.. can i play this msi song just once while you ride me..? I-its only 2 minutes.." "What the fuck do you mean the music will last longer than me?"

•A complete weirdo for you, literally a creep.

"Please..? Just consider doing a rainbow kiss with me once?" "Shut the fuck up, you just don't have good taste in fetishes."

•Hates calling you mommy but would do it in a heartbeat whenever hes desperate.

"M-mommy..~! Please let me cum.. fuck.. milk me dry please..~! I-it's aching so bad...please..~" "S-shut up.. just let me cum.. mommy.. please..?"

[logaenhowlett]

hi arya :3

any thoughts on cowboy!logan?

plenty. i’ve got plenty of thoughts. you’re gonna have to restrain me from this motherfucker. 18+ only.

— COWBOY!LOGAN HCs

Cowboy!Logan reigns terror over your heart.

The first time he saunters into the saloon you work at, he fixes you with those piercing eyes and purrs, "Now, darlin', what's a pretty thing like you doin' behind this bar? Should be dancin' with me, makin' all the other fellas jealous."

Whiskey? He never orders it. Every time, it falls from his lips as a suggestion, like it's a shared indulgence between the two of you. "A lil' somethin' to take the edge off a long day, wouldn't you say, sweetheart?"

Soon enough, you realise that he could charm the spurs off a rattlesnake if he so desires.

As he becomes a regular, all the glassware behind the counters starts looking a little too shiny since you're polishing them with the furious energy of a woman trying to ignore a wildfire—as if you could erase the memory of his last wink with enough elbow grease.

Ridiculous.

And he's got this lazy drawl, as though time spins between his fingers, where every word is a carefully placed lasso meant to reel you in.

Despite your better judgment, you find yourself anticipating Logan's arrival after each sunset. A fact you'd rather swallow a cactus than ever admit.

Devilishly clever, that man. Taken to accidentally dropping poker chips near your feet, just to watch you bend down and retrieve them. Leaving little sketches on napkins, rough caricatures of other patrons. Or sometimes, a remarkably detailed portrait of you minding your business.

Those stay tucked in your pockets for a while until your bedside drawer becomes their new home.

One night, he teaches you how to spin a coin on your knuckles, the brim of his worn Stetson tilted low, making you wonder if the slight pressure of his thigh against yours is part of the lesson or a happy accident. "Now, imagine that was a ring... wearin' it on the wrong hand, of course, but I reckon I could fix that."

And somehow, even though you could practically hear the ghostly whispers of every woman he's ever charmed, foolishly, your heart still does a little two-step.

As thunder rolls, so does the poetry from his lips. A small leather-bound volume from which he recites verses of silken touches and midnight trysts.

Whe he finishes, calloused fingers lift your chin slightly. "They say that thunder's the sound of the sky fallin' in love. And look at that... it's fallin' for you tonight, just like I am."

A kiss, not rushed, but a slow burn. Vaguely stirs memories of bourbon sipped by a campfire. Smokey, yet mischievously sweet, his lips part yours with a gentle demand. "Tell me somethin', sweet girl," he murmurs. "You ever ride a cowboy? 'Cause I'm thinkin' we find ourselves a quiet corner, and I'll show you a thing or two 'bout holdin' on real tight."

And in two shakes of a lamb's tail, Logan carries you to the backroom, away from all the raucous and the ruffians. He slides the bolt home, the click deafening in the suddenly small space. Only a single lantern to witness your sins, a rough wooden table your makeshift altar.

A lasso, strong and supple, twists around his palm. "Reckon you got a taste for the finer things. Right, darlin'?" He ties the knot, drawing your wrists closer, snug against your rear. Not in a harsh bind, but a tender restraint. "Just enough... to keep you entertained."

Loosened buttons and hiked-up skirts aside, his hand snakes between your legs, grazing your clit as he stretches you six ways to Sunday.

"Fallin' apart so soon, sugar?" Logan clicks his tongue thrice, and your hips instinctively buck. "Well, ain't that somethin'?" Eyes wide from genuine surprise. A whistle, cocky and clear, hits your cheek. "You're takin' to this faster than my prize-winnin' mare, and she's been broke in proper. Guess you're a natural, darlin'. Or maybe," he whispers, hot against your ear, "you just know how to please your cowboy."

A loaded six-shooter springs up as his jeans fall open, teasing your cunt with his slick, glistening head. No more can his patience bear the force of his desire.

Thrust after thrust, you wither from the glorious onslaught. There's a wild need to touch him, toss the hat and tangle your fingers in his hair, feel the rippling muscles he'd so gracefully shown glimpses of. Only the rope makes it agonisingly impossible.

Soft whines—which he takes the utmost pride in provoking—turn into ragged gasps. As your cunt clenches around him, milking him dry, Logan spills inside you with shallow grunts. "Sweet mercy," he chuckles, kissing you something stupid. "Now, just what am I gonna do with you, doll? Makin' a fella like me consider settlin' down."

Dramatic, in the way he sighs, Logan curls his arms around you. "Or, we could just elope. Less fuss that way."

Gently, he unties the lasso, soothing the faint red marks along your wrists. "Sleep tight, gorgeous. And dream of me."

Yet, he's the reason you have trouble sleeping at all.

so, i got majorly carried away with cowboy!logan. very tempted to turn this into a proper fic.

[luvether]

CAMPFIRES & UNBLED WOUNDS, the exiled prince never understood why he was curious about your touch, about you. mydei x gn!reader. 2.3k wc

“So you were here, my prince.”

The chirping of crickets subdue at the interruption, and he sees a familiar shadow settle onto the moss and mildew and dirt beside his feet, stretching longer with the puddles of moonlight grinning down at him.

Mydeimos—sitting on the rheumy rocks with his goblet in hand—does not have to tip his chin up to know the owner of the one who called out to him, it was the tone that’s as gentle as the warm wind gossiping a glee on a dewy morning, a voice that’s all too soft and careful to belong to his battle companions, instead it was from you.

“The campfire’s long been extinguished and everyone’s turned in for the night. You should be doing the same, you know.”

“I have a lot on my mind.” Mydei had answered you. “Too restless to sleep.”

For a moment, his response was met with silence. Mydeimos had the urge to glance over his shoulder to check if you were still there—but before he does, you speak.

“Well, that makes the two of us then.”

“You should not…” The rebuttal clumsily slips down his tongue when you’d finally come closer, your shadow giving way to your familiar figure as you appeared at the corner of his vision, settling soundlessly on the empty spot beside him.

Your eyes rest on him, “Should not what, my lord?”

Mydeimos lets out a huff. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since the afternoon healing our warriors, it is you that needs the rest.”

“And leave our gracious prince out here by himself?”

There was mirth in the way you speak, your gaze settled on the distant stretch of ocean before you both. “Hephaestion was the last to turn in, but he had asked for you when he did not see you in your tent. What am I to do when I face him in the morn had I left you here and slept cozily in my mattresses?”

It was the first tonight when a smile stumbled onto his lips, the corners tipping up in a half-dimpled smile. He shakes his head, an exhale thick with the contents of a laugh. “You jest, surely?”

“He’s your most trusted, of course he worries for you.” You tell him. “Though, you’re gonna steel yourself and tell me—there is no such thing as concern within the Kremnoan language? I can hear such words already.”

You were too focused conjuring up silly teasings that you’d never noticed how the prince’s gaze was on you, no longer had the distant protrusions of rocks from beneath the unruly waves in the distance selfishly caged his attention—his honey-hued eyes beneath the silver moonlight had made the golden in his gaze more sharper and brighter than before, it’s like opening up an oyster to find a dainty pearl on the heart of its mollusk.

The way Mydeimos smiled at you with his dimples made your heart stir and you turned away, clearing the clog of words in your throat.

Jovial playfulness smooths back to comforting silence.

The air tasted of sea-salt—the perks of being near a body of water, and Mydeimos breathed out a thick exhale. Usually, the exiled Kremnoan prince would voice out his gripe at every minor display of disturbance when his mind is sullied with burdening concerns and it’s not like he’s a man who’d brood in isolation—no, Mydeimos would sit around his fellow countrymen usually, sharing a drink by the crackling bonfire after a successful battlefront won over by their Kremoan vigor.

It’s just that they’ve experienced quite a harsh fight with one of their foes of the sea-city states a week ago, many Kremnoans came back severely injured so company was the least assurance the prince wanted.

But for some reason, he cannot utter a single thing when you sit by him, gazing out at the same ocean that’s all violent waves with teeth of white foam and tongue of sea-salt.

Maybe it was the fact that you were their medic—Mydeimos never had the luxury to be patched up by you—his immortality ridding any wounds and injuries before they can be fussed over. But his keen honey eyes would look on unmovingly at times where he catches you bandaging up his men in the distance, particularly with how utterly gentle you seem.

It was a foreign thing in his eyes, then again you were not from Castrum Kremnos, they had just picked you up during their expedition across Amphoreus when you had claimed to be someone who knew a thing or two about being a medical practitioner. Mydeimos was practically untouchable so taking someone like you would’ve been more of a hindrance, they already had Perdikkas for such a situation.

But his soldiers weren’t like him, he had already seen some of them fall in battle or succumb to illnesses he wasn’t familiar with. Even the medic himself had vouched for you—saying that having another pair of hands to help the wounded wouldn’t hurt.

So with great reluctance, Mydeimos beckoned you to join. It has already been a few months since then and you have proven to be a valued asset to his party, not only as a medic but rather, a close companion of his.

He resurfaces from his thoughts when he feels a thumb run across his cheek, he’d flinch and the feeling fades just as quick as it came. You have completely caught his attention now and you seem to stumble on rolls of apologies for touching him so carelessly, expecting an ire from him.

“I apologize,” you said. “there was red on your cheek so I thought you were injured…”

Unconsciously, he lifts his ungloved hand and pushes it at the spot on his cheek in which your touch lingered like an aftertaste.

Soft.

Your touch was so sophisticatedly soft and…

“Cold.”

Mydei’s rasp stirs you. “Pardon?”

“Your fingers.” He reiterates with an unreadable baritone. “They’re really cold.”

He did not expect your eyes to waver, nor did he expect the look of shame to flush your cheeks.

Mydeimos frowns at that. “Tell me, what did you do?”

“I…doused them in the river just south of camp when I was washing the bloodied clothes of the soldiers.” You answer simply. “The water’s frigid, it was almost bone-chilling despite the early rise of moonlight—”

“Why do such a thing?”

He does not mean to pry so frankly, you seem reluctant to reply but you needn’t explain further. Mydei had already pieced together the reason.

Being a medic is just as difficult as being a warrior. The prince has seen it all, time and time again, the state of his folks when they’re dragged back from battle—almost torn and severely injured, bloodied and mutilated and ribboned—just how much have you nursed them all back to health? To stitch up capillaries to muscle and skin? for your tender fingers to be caked with hot blood and cold grime that felt like a stain on your flesh even after washing them away numerous times?

He cannot help but bring his attention back to your fingers, and to both of your surprise, he was the one that reached out first.

His calloused hand touches your cold ones, running a rough thumb across your open palm to start. To him, he felt a notable hint of tremor in your fingertips, something he tried to cradle softly.

And to you, there's a mild prickle at the aftermath of the prince’s rough-hewn hands against your own.

“How are you feeling?” Mydei asks and it’s such a simple question, it’s so simple and yet you find yourself at a loss of what to say. You didn’t need to, he clasped your hand then, drawing it closer until both your fingers interlaced together.

“My lord, such a thing—“

Your cheeks surrender to the flushed heat, Mydeimos’ hands are calloused yet very tender. You don’t know what the prince wanted you to acknowledge, you’re just surprised he was the first who was willing to touch you so daringly.

“Refrain from doing that again.” His baritone reverberates through his chest, a gentle lecture slipping between his teeth. “Cold therapy may help you now but I've seen my comrades develop trench foot before. It’s in our best interest if you, the medic, is healthy at all costs. Just come find me whenever you have troubles with anything, okay?”

His honey eyes are on you. “Stay for as long as you wish, until your hands stop trembling from the cold.” Until you’re okay, you can hear the aftermath of concern brushing your ears.

You let out a finicky chuckle. “It was supposed to be me comforting you, not the other way around.”

“I’m fine.” Mydeimos answered. “I cannot die—“

“Cannot die in physical essence but your heart can still hurt from grief.” You squeeze back on his own. “And who knows, Mydeimos? You may be stabbed and injured numerous times but what if one day, when an enemy stabs you and you die, what would your people think? What do you think I would feel?”

It was merely a hypothesis for you, but the gravity of your theory tosses weight onto his shoulders, his chest caving in and his spine tingling, especially at the thoracic region. But instead of worrying about your words, Mydeimos observes you from the corner of his eye once again—he finds himself doing that as of late, and a ghost of a smile is on his lips, a teasing of his own at the tip of his tongue.

“Maybe it’s you who worries a lot about me, not Hephaestion.” He pokes at you, his playfulness catches you off guard and you find yourself sputtering.

“You could drown—“

“Then, I can simply swim.”

“What about a fatal stab? If you die from—“

Mydeimos tries his hardest from rolling his eyes. “And you think one measly stab would cut me down completely? Sometimes you wound me with your lack of faith—“

“I’m being serious, Mydeimos.”

And this time, the prince brings your hand close to him and lays it flat above his heart.

That renders your worries short, feeling the heavy beat of his heart on his chest, the evident embrace of warmth that dances along your open palm.

“Does it feel like I’d drop dead somewhere anytime soon?”

Your fear soon withers away from your chest, but Mydeimos does not let go of your hand, tracing his thumb up and down the pulse of your wrist.

“Does it?” He asks you, barely a whisper.

You shake your head but the tension is already thick in the air, electrifying. You find yourself reaching for every inch of vitality within him, any sign of life that you can feel beneath your palm. At first it was the apical pulse on his chest, then you started to draw patterns on his denuded skin—fingers tracing down the carmine tattoos that splay across his body as you searched.

It wasn’t sensual, per say, but your hands grasped him in desperation to feel life, a breath and a sharp pulse and he’s right,

Unlike the injured soldiers that were cold and trembling beneath your fingers before they died and dried—the prince is warm, blood pumping and heart erratic. Touching him brings you some sort of selfish solace and the trembling coldness of your fingertips are quickly blanketed by Mydeimos’ body heat as you curiously trace the red that marks up his body—up his carotid arteries on his neck until it reaches the edge of his tendrils.

“Your hair is tangled, your highness.” It was your soft murmur as you leaned close to him, then your fingers reached out to comb through his thick peach-puddled blond hair.

“Is that so?” He voices, eyes trained on you. The gaps between the two of you are quick to eat up, especially with the way Mydeimos is leaning onto your hand. He’s been trying since the first few months, to not be too overly concerned with your touch every time he sees you tending to his men, but even he cannot deny that he had always been curious since the moment you first join,

He was curious about your touch on him, or simply, how gentle you would touch him like you do the rest.

And just as he suspected, your touch is rather feather-like when you start to fiddle tiny braids onto his hair. Remnants of your fingers seem to linger at every mark in his body—

A rustle shatters the atmosphere and you both are quick to pull away. Mydeimos hides the sneer on his expression when Hephaestion emerges from the bushes,

“Oh, so you both were here—”

“What is it—” when Hephaestion stares at him in shock, especially with how snappy he sounded, Mydeimos falters, clearing his throat, “—I mean, what seems to be the matter, Hephaestion?”

You snicker beside him, but when Mydeimos points a glare your way, you yourself clear your own throat.

“Nothing, I was simply wondering where the two of you have gone. Sightseeing without us?”

“Sightseeing is an understatement, we were simply sharing a conversation or two is all.”

“Well, judging by the moon high in the sky, it’s best to wrap up those conversations soon. You both need ample rest after the events that happened for the past few days, have you forgotten that we would march west in the morning?”

At your lack of responses, Hephaestion sighs.

“I’m sure the crickets and herbs are honored at your company, but the detachment move for the west awaits us all, now make haste.”

“Alright, alright we got it.” Mydeimos sighs. Hephaestion had left first as the two of you stood at your feet, brushing crumbs of grime from your attire.

“My lord?”

Mydeimos turns at your call, he sees the slightest hint of twinkle in your eyes against the foam-salted air. “Thank you, for tonight.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.” You answer, rubbing your warm fingertips. “Much better, I hope your concerns have eased as well.”

“You know, I was serious when I said that if you have any troubles, just come find me, maybe we can speak our minds again like tonight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You chuckle. “Promise me you won’t go dying somewhere else.”

“Without your permission?” His dimpled-smile returns. “I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Losing your husband Simon ghost Riley

Warning- this is very angsty and does not have a happy ending I cried while writing the entire thing, there is death, and multiple uses of y/n. I am sorry in advance for your tears

Today Simon was coming home from his first mission after you guys got married, and you were so happy and excited when you heard the knock on your door. But Simon wasn't on the other side, it was just Soap and Price, who was holding Simon's mask in his hands “what-what are you guys doing here? Where's Simon?” “y/n I'm so sorry” you looked between the two of them before your legs started to falter but Soap caught you as you started panicking “what do you mean, where's Simon, where is he?” Price grabbed your shoulders making you look at him “y/n he's gone, I'm sorry, there's nothing we could have done”

No no this was your worst nightmare, you needed your Simon, you guys just got married you didn't even get a chance to fully enjoy it, and now he was gone forever. “I-i wanna see him, you-you brought his body back? Right?” Price sighed before answering “y/n its not a pretty sight, I don't think you should look at-” but you cut him off “please Price, I need to see him again, he was my husband, the love my life” without any other words Soap helped you into the car and brought you to the military morgue.

There he was, cold to the touch, face expressionless, the rest of his body was ruined though, part of it burnt, other parts crushed and bullet holes all over, it just made you start crying more and more, you had no clue how you would function without him. You just stayed there crying sitting by his side, one hand holding his, the other holding the mask he would never put on again.

Price walked in and handed you a stack of notes “From the day you and Simon started dating, every time we would go on missions he would write a little note before we started, they were all saved in a box back in his office, they're all addressed to you”

And your tears started falling faster and harder as you read them one by one. But the last two broke you more than you thought was imaginable

Second to last letter

“Hey lovie, if you're reading this the mission didn't go as planned, I know your hurting baby but it'll be okay. I probably went out in battle so don't look at my body baby it's only gonna make it hurt more. You better not be worrying bout me lovie, I'm just living in my dreams, you and me married, living the domestic life in our little house near the base. It'll all be okay over time my love, promise”

Last letter

“Hey lovie, if you're reading this the mission didn't go as planned, I just want you to know you made my life worth living and you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me, I got to live the dream with you and now I'm patiently waiting for you on the other side, take care for me okay, I know your hurting so much baby, we just got married and now I'm all gone but it'll be okay, the guys will be there for you, make sure you use them, I miss you too lovie and I love you so much”

Gosh, you missed him so much already, you had no clue how you would keep going without him, especially knowing he was waiting and watching you

[luvrrin]

જ⁀➴ thinking about sharing an umbrella with itoshi rin.

⋮ ⌗ ; listening to mitski and thought of writing this drabble.

warnings

may be occ, not proofread cuz it’s just a drabble not rly, rin itoshi is so cutesy n shy. acts of service is his love language istg. subtle fluff. 1.4k wc

both you and rin were met with the dull sky and hammering sound patterns of the intense downpour after your group studying session.

the sun was ready to set at any time by the look of things.

everyone went their separate paths but as for you and rin, you guys were the last to gather your belongings.

you two were now stuck seeking shelter under the small roof that the university's library entrance offered as the rain glossed over the series of cement stairs.

the atmosphere between you and rin being a bit stiff due to the fact you guys never shared a moment outside of school purposes.

maybe if you were lucky, you'd receive a small glance from itoshi rin during long lectures. a glance that he thought would go unnoticed by you.

"just take it." rin's firm voice rung through the sounds of the downpour hitting the cement.

his hand that held onto the umbrella, reached out towards your own as if to force your hand in taking his umbrella.

his azure eyes raking over you, blinking ever so softly which emphasized his long bottom lashes.

though rin's expression was always indifferent, there was a subtle hint of sincerity. a sincerity that you’ve never seen before.

"but what about you?" you withdrew from his reaching hand, concern lacing your soft tone.

he scoffed, his eyes remaining fixated on your face.

his expression unreadable as ever, yet the way his azure gaze lingered on your features told a different story.

his eyes never failed to cause a dry lump in your throat as you returned his gaze.

you weren't sure if it was because he intimidated you or he was easily the most attractive man you've laid your eyes on.

intimidatingly attractive. you settled with that thought in your mind.

"i'm fine, you'll need it more than me." his voice low yet persistent.

his hand with the umbrella remained reached out ahead of you with a subtle frown settling on his features. it was evident that rin was equally, if not more, stubborn than you.

"itoshi, don't be ridiculous. it's your umbrella, i'm not gonna jus-"

rin's hand extended from his previous stance, grabbing onto your own as he firmly placed the umbrella into your hands.

his touch sending a wave of sensation as his hand lingered for a second too long. or so you thought.

you weren't sure if the close proximity that you both were introduced to was to blame or the mini crush that you always had for itoshi rin.

but the gentle brush of his fingers against yours caused a subtle hint of pink to dust over your skin. god, you’re so single.

"just use it." he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweater and striding out from the little shelter provided into the heavy rain.

what is his issue? you could see the hammering droplets engulfing his figure, his dark hair becoming damp by the second.

"itoshi, are you crazy?!" you yelled as his back faced you, ignoring your loud concern at his behavior.

the dull sky was getting darker as time went on and the heavy rain would not let up. why rin itoshi would think it’s a good idea to walk in this condition was beyond you.

without a second thought, you opened the umbrella mindlessly and swiftly followed the taller male like a lost puppy.

once you eventually caught up with his long strides, you extended your arm with the umbrella to accommodate with his height.

"i think sharing the umbrella would be a good idea instead of walking in the rain like an manic." you muttered through your teeth.

it came to your attention that the umbrella could not accommodate to both of you when standing a bit far from each other.

the heavy rain was slightly soaking your right arm as your left hand held up the small umbrella, hoping to give each other more coverage.

rin spared you a glance, noticing the way you were struggling badly attempting to hold the umbrella over his head.

he then sighs deeply at your own persistence. his chest heaving with slight annoyance. as if he was the only one who should be allowed to be a pain in the ass stubborn.

“here, let me hold it.”

his firm hands took the umbrella from yours in a gentle manner, an contrast to the indifferent expression plastered on his face.

"don't be stupid. come closer." he muttered, noticing the way your sleeve had gotten soaked.

he slightly walked closer, not giving you a second to do it on your own as your arms pressed against each others. as sad as it sounds, the contact sent a spark through your flesh.

almost as if he was eager but then again, who are you to try to read itoshi rin's behavior?

it was weird though. he didn't seem to mind, it was as if he purposely kept his arm still to maintain the little contact between each other.

for a moment, there was a comfortable silence that fell over the both of you. the only source of noise being the soft pattern of rain hitting the umbrella.

at times you would take a quick glance at rin on your side. his expression hardened as if he was in deep thought.

"something on your mind?" you asked, breaking the silent atmosphere. your head tilted slightly to the side as your body turned to face rin a bit.

"yeah." he muttered. rin didn't bother sparing you a glance, his gaze ahead.

"like what?"

"like how this creep is constantly staring at me." he said, his tone both dry and sarcastic.

his eyes met with yours with a deadpan expression lingering on his features.

"who- oh my god, shut up." you swatted his arm, genuine laughter escaping your lips.

who knew itoshi rin had a sense of humor?

"wait-" you started, remembering all of the times you noticed rin stealing glances of you in lectures.

"don't think you're slick in class acting like i don't see you looking at me all the time!" your finger poked against his chest firmly to empathize your words.

for once, rin's cat-eye like eyes widened as your scrutinized gaze met with his widened, doe eyes.

and there it was again, that silence overcoming the two of you as you two stared each other down. your pace slowing down a bit.

"i... i don't do that." he sharply spat, shying away from your eyes.

at his sudden change in demeanor, you could only confirm that you weren't being delusional all those times. there was a subtle tint of pink dusting over his ear as you continued to look up at him.

it was clear the itoshi rin was flustered.

the only words conversed after that was the location of his dorm building, luckily it was close to yours.

"here's my building." you pointed to the brick structure as you two approached the entrance.

after the moment you both shared, he was too quiet. although, rin was a man of few words, his silence was deafening.

standing ahead of the front entrance, you turned to face rin's towering figure. his eyes hard to read as he met yours.

"your dorm is close by, right?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"yeah." his answer short and dry, his analyzing gaze still on your features.

"oh is it the building over there?" you nodded off into the distance at the other building a couple feet away.

"yeah." again, his answer still short. his eyes had some of internal turmoil.

"well..." you started, "thank you for walking me home, itoshi."

you looked up to the umbrella, "and keeping me dry."

"rin." his tone low and strained. as if he was holding himself back from saying more.

"huh?"

"call me rin, from now on."

"oh.. okay. well, thank you again, rin." you offered a soft smile. there was slight twitch of his lips at the sound of his name escaping your lips.

"i'll.. see you tomorrow, yn." he nodded slightly before hesitantly departing from your company.

for a moment, you continued to watch him walk away in the opposite direction of the other dorm building. then it clicked, he lied. the only other building was across the campus. did that mean he only walked here for you?

if it couldn't get worse, your eyes traveled to the left sleeve of his sweater being absolutely drenched with rain.

rin itoshi was a selfless man.

ᯓ★ a/n: iloveriniloverin.

[81pastrys]

Their Mechanic

Part 5 / 10

Summary— When she’s late and in her backup car, Oscar shows up with her keys and Lando gets a call to drive her to get it.

Warnings— bad flirting

A/N— I’m still tweaking this one

Series List

The next day, I woke up and checked the time. “Shit!” I’m 3 hours late for the shop. I get up, throw my hair in a bun, and change my clothes. I wash my face and don’t see my keys. “Ruby Red it is.” I sigh.

I stop for coffee on the way and then arrive at the shop. My dad’s face contorted towards anger as I pulled in with my ruby-red Carrera. I get out and rush into the lockers. “Where’s your Taycan?”

“I was too drunk to drive it home last night,” I say. The headache resonated while he spoke loudly within the lockers. “I’ll get it later, Pa, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want that pretty car damaged.” He warned. Even though I’d be the one fixing it. I walk back out and see Oscar leaning up against my pink toolbox. “Damn McLarens.” My dad whispered, walking past.

Oscar dangles my keys from his finger. “Forgetting something?” He asked. I don’t have the energy for his ditsy-ness right now, so I roll my eyes.

“Ollie brought me home.” I sigh. “I was way too drunk to think straight.” I grab the keys, and he pulls me closer.

“Could’ve stayed the night with us.” He whispered. Chills ran through my veins as he spoke, and my breath hitched in my throat. I back away, and he sets off to his car.

I focus on the shop for the rest of the day and then head home late. When I get home, I call Lando. “Hey, trouble.” He answers.

“Hey Lando, I was wondering. Care to give me a lift to Oscar’s?” I ask. He came over, and I took a shower. I left my front door unlocked in case he’d arrived before I finished freshening up. He did, and I texted him to say it was unlocked.

“Trouble.” He dragged out.

“I’m drying off. Give me about 3 minutes.” I respond. I dry my hair and then throw on sweats and a tee. I walk to the main room, and he sits at the bar. “Sorry, I had to shower.”

“No worries, ready to go get your precious car?” He teased. I’ve mentioned my love for the car so many times.

“Yes, let’s go.” I usher him out and lock the door. We drive the streets and talk. We get to the parking garage for the complex, and he gets out. “Woah, where are you going?”

“See my teammate?” He smiled, and I almost crumbled to my knees. “I told him I was bringing you to your car.”

“Oh, okay,” I respond. I didn’t realize they were teammates. “I’m gonna head back home; it’s kinda late.”

“Sounds good, trouble.” His smile widened. “I’ll text you later.” He doesn’t usually ‘text me later,’ but I smile and feel the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Keep that car of yours out of my shop, Norris.” I giggle. “I love working on her, but you need to stop making excuses to see me at the shop and ask me out.”

He fakely laughed at my comment, but I could see the blush on his face. “I might.” He shrugs.

“If you don’t, I might have another driver under my arms soon.” I tease, knowing damn well he’s the only driver I want out of all of them.

“Oh please, they wouldn’t be able to handle you trouble.” He’s flirting back now, noticing my tactics. “The attitude you have and the independence, they’d crumble after one date.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I smirked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Well, I’m sure you almost refused at least one of the guys I sent you.” He scoffed. I scrunch my face in admittance. We laugh. “Who was it?”

“Oscar and Max..” I say as if it was guilt. “Oscar, Max almost denied me the chance to work on his car.”

“Oscar?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “The introverted man upstairs?”

“He’s very cocky,” I say. “Acted as if I didn’t know what I was doing.” Which I did.

“Well, what made him believe that trouble?” He smirked, knowing the answer would be mumbled.

“I touched a hot spot on his McLaren.” I tilt my head and drop my arms from being crossed. “I did the same on yours.” However, he laughed it off in the moment. He didn’t doubt me when I made a simple mistake.

“Yeah, but I already knew there were hotspots.” He chuckled again. “I can fix my car trouble; I just noticed you do it better.” He winked at me.

I blushed at the compliment. His teammate called, and he motioned for me to follow him. I rolled my eyes with a smile and followed the man upstairs.

Where is this going?

[faistoconnors]

art pissing himself at a haunted house w pat n all their tennis friends.. getting too scared by one of the super realistic animatronics (to be fair though pat and the boys forced him to take an extra hit off of a blunt before they left..) once they all come out of the house and make their way to their packed minivan one of the boys sitting next to art & pat notices the wet spot ion art’s jeans (his hand is too small to cover it up 🥺) and everyone starts teasing him about !!



Live Fi Reaction (real)

I hope this is acceptable and coherent 🫶🏻

Art walked into that place PARANOID, to say the very least

he was high and anxious and a little jumpy upon entering. it didn't really help that Patrick's hand was at his back or tugging on the hem of his hoodie, the touch serving to make him more flustered, his senses heightened.

as soon as that stupid animatronic ghoul popped out from around the corner with a loud shriek, he froze.

the warmth spreading over his crotch and down his thighs is more mortifying than the way he'd completely stiffened at the sight of the thing.

the place is dark enough that none of the boys notice the way his jeans are soaked right away. however, this has the added side effect that he has to walk through the whole rest of the building absolutely drenched with no relief from it.

the pee cools in the fabric of his jeans, and then he's just kind of wet and shivering.

that is, until a scare actor makes a run towards him and a fresh wave of warmth blooms around his cock

when they make it outside and back to the van, he hangs back, trying to somehow come up with some way to hide the accident. when he falls short of figuring that out, he hesitantly, shakily gets into his seat. and of course, with the doors open, the lights in the van are on. it doesn't help that he smells like piss, either.

so, of course, the boy to his left, Liam, turns and spots it immediately. his eyes go wide, and he lets out a loud jeer.

"fuck, did you piss yourself, Donaldson?"

his voice is raucous, getting the attention of all of the rest of Art's friends.

including Patrick.

Patrick, who's sitting at his right, who turns and immediately flushes a shade of pink Art's never seen on his face before.

the rest of the car ride is deeply uncomfortable. the teasing and laughing goes on for ages, even as Art rests his hands in his lap like he can somehow hide his humiliation that way.

when they get back to campus, the boys all pile out of the car one by one. Art is the last one out, and he watches as they all walk off in their respective directions.

the tears start, then, hot and fast down his cheeks. if he'd cried in front of all of them, the shame would've been a million times worse.

now he's just standing in the parking lot, head in his hands, trying to ignore the way his skin smells like pee.

"hey, c'mon. never gonna get to your dorm if you just stand there."

Patrick's voice is a welcome distraction from the pit of despair sitting in Art's stomach, but he still can't stand the fact that someone is here to witness all of this.

he stares at Pat, expecting some kind of teasing or rude remark. it never comes.

instead, he finds an oddly affectionate look on the dark-haired boy's face; a kind of care that Art isn't sure he's comfortable with.

Patrick's hand is on his back again, and they set off to the dorm building. when they make it into Art's room, he's never been more thankful his roommate is gone.

he walks into the bathroom, and midway through closing the door, Patrick's foot is sticking in the frame and keeping it open. he watches silently as Patrick pushes his way in.

"come here."

his voice is quiet, so much quieter than Art is used to. Art stands still, eyes hooked on Patrick, unable to even process what he wants.

"come on, dipshit, are you just gonna stare at me?"

there's the familiar lightheartedness that Art is so used to. even through the joking remark, Art finds himself stepping forward and letting Patrick drag him into a hug.

it lasts for a few moments, and then the boy is reaching down with his big hands and tugging at Art's belt.

the tears begin again, sliding steadily down his face, as Patrick strips off his wet jeans and underwear. he lets Pat guide him into the shower, both of them standing under the hot spray of water, trying to ignore Patrick's muscular frame bumping against his own while they wash off. the showers at Stanford aren't that big, and he shivers at the contact every time it happens.

then, Patrick's turning the water off and drying both of them with the same towel. they fall into a familiar routine, and soon enough, they're clad in clothes that neither is sure who belongs what, and crawling into Art's twin bed. Patrick's limbs tangle around his own, his breathing slowing, his head heavy on Art's chest.

despite the mortifying, humiliating experience, Art finds himself very thankful that night. thankful, and confused at the amount of sensations he'd gone through.

maybe he can just chalk it up to being high.

[1800bitchcraft]

Why do I feel like Ford would be down bad if he found out his s/o was a vampire and if they bit or fed off of him, especially when they are fooling around that he would be reduced to a whimpering mess

A/N: Oh my GOD you are SO right, anon!!! Obviously we all know Ford's a monsterfucker, I mean come on. So I really love the idea of his partner being non-human and vampires were my first love, of course, and I LOVE sub!Ford so this is extra yummy to me.

This is also an open invitation for more monsterfucker!Ford thots or just sub!Ford in general

CW: biting, blood, dry humping, cumming untouched, sub Ford, blood drinking, typical vampire shenanigans

!!! MDNI OR YOU GET THE BROOM !!!

Smut under the cut

Ford had made a lot of poor choices in his life. Trusting Bill had been the main one, of course, but then there was a laundry list of others:

Enlisting Fidds to help him with the portal, shutting out Stanley, dating a siren. Really, the list went on and on. And, as he stared up at you perched on his lap, hovering over him and looking down with a wicked, predatory gleam in your eyes, your fangs glinting in the lowlight, one might've assumed that this would make that list. But one would be wrong.

"Relax, sweetheart," you murmured, voice low and soothing. "I'm not just gonna pounce on ya, though I think you'd kinda like that." He shivered beneath you, breath catching in his throat as you rested your hands on his chest. It was a small touch, hardly anything to write home about, but it still had his cock twitching in interest.

"Hard to believe when you're looking at me like that." He muttered. He tried to sound put off by your teasing but that was hard to do when he was so flushed just looking at you and you could practically taste his heartbeat. You hummed softly, sliding your hands over his torso. Touching him in slow, languid caresses that caused the edges of his thoughts to blur.

"What? Can't I just appreciate the gift you're giving me?" You said, and the affection lacing your voice did something to his insides. "You've no idea the feast you are, Stanford, but I intend to savor every bit of you." He let out a shaky, stuttering breath then. Your hands slid down the worn fabric of his t-shirt, trailing a path down to the waist band of the pajama bottoms he wore. He dressed comfortably, something you insisted on, and with the way you were touching him now, he was starting to wonder if maybe it was for more than just his comfort.

"Didn't- didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?" He tried to sound snarky, but the stutter and shake to his voice negated it. You splayed your hands out on his lower belly, fingertips just barely gripping at his hips and thumbs dipping below his waistband to stroke at the sensitive, overheated skin there. "Fuck..." the word was soft, nearly silent, but you heard it nevertheless as his head fell back, body leaning into your touch almost mindlessly. You smirked.

"Perhaps," you mused. Your thumbs rubbed soft circles just above his groin, sliding over to the V of his hips and putting more pressure into the dips there. A low, ragged gasp was your reward as the action had pleasure sparking along his nerves. "But I think you like it when I play with you." You finished, flashing your fangs when you grinned down at him.

"Besides," you said after a beat. You moved one hand up to his chest, applying enough pressure to have him laying back against the pillows. "I'm doing this to relax you, sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, so just enjoy it. You've never complained about me touching you before." Ford scoffed, gently gripping your hips in his hands. He tugged at you, pulling you down to sit fully in his lap. Gratified by the soft moan you let out when this brought your aching core to rest over the rapidly hardening bulge in his pants.

"And I'm not complaining now, I'm just-"

"Impatient?" You offered, voice now somewhat breathless as the anticipation started to get to you, too.

"Eager," he corrected you, narrowing his eyes slightly. You hummed in acknowledgement, sliding your hands back up his chest, now under his shirt. Your bare skin on his had Ford releasing a shaky breath, eyes fluttering at your gentle, teasing touches. Your fingers found his nipples, perked and sensitive from all your teasing, and your thumbs drew light circles over them.

"Ngh- a-aaah~" he couldn't contain the moan that left him. Your hands were just cold enough to add another layer of sensation, and his hands squeezed your hips. You bit your lip softly, watching the expressions flitting across his face as you teased him.

"Mmm~ please," he muttered, voice soft and whiny. His eyes fluttered open and a pulse of desire ran through you at the heat in them. He tugged lightly, insistently, at your hips. "Fuck, c'mere, please." You couldn't deny him, not when he begged you so sweetly.

You leaned in, chest pressed to his, and kissed him. At first, just firm, brief presses of your lips to his, pulling away when you felt him start to reciprocate. Then, his hands slid into your hair, holding you. Pulling you closer. And you were lost. You opened your mouth at the first flicker of his tongue across your lower lip, moaning as he deepened the kiss immediately. His tongue slid gently over your fangs, and the taste of iron bloomed across your palate when he nicked himself. The kiss turned sloppy, desperate, and when you pulled away there was a smear of red at the corner of your mouth. Ford swallowed thickly, his cock throbbing where you had it trapped beneath the press of your hips.

"Fuck," he groaned when your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging his head back so you could lean in, licking at the long line of his throat. "You shouldn't look so hot like that," he whined. "S'unfair." You chuckled against his throat, nipping gently and feeling him shiver beneath you.

"Do I really look hot with your blood on my lips or are you just a degenerate?" You murmured, tone teasing. His hands moved to your back, stroking along your spine idly as you kissed and nipped along his throat, careful not to draw blood just yet. You liked the way he squirmed beneath you, soft, whining moans and gasps pouring from his lips like he couldn't help it.

"Darling," he groaned, hushed and needy when you rocked your hips down against his erection. Feeling him where he pressed against you, hot and hard. "Darling, please." You hummed, letting your fangs graze the sensitive skin near the base of his neck.

"Please what?" You purred. You tugged lightly on his hair and his hips jerked beneath you, body arching into yours, chasing the coolness of your skin.

"Bite me," he gasped, finally, voice breathless. "Please, darling I- I want it." You muffled your moan in his skin, the desperate edge to his voice making your toes curl. Deciding not to tease either of you anymore, you trailed the pointed tips of your fangs across his skin gently, relishing in the flutter of his heartbeat. The way he shivered underneath you. It scratched at some dark, primal instinct in you that you could feel just barely beginning to bubble to the surface.

Unable to keep yourself in check any longer, edges of your self control beginning to fray, you leaned in. Pressing yourself fully against Ford, your fingers holding tight to his hair, you sank your fangs in. A low, rough moan clawed it's way from your throat and you crowded in closer. Greedily lapping at the blood that spilled from the wounds, shuddering against him as it filled your body with a slow, pooling warmth.

Ford was a wreck beneath you. Your chest rumbled against his; soft, subvocal purrs vibrating your body and keeping him relaxed and pliant beneath you. The venom from your fangs swam through his veins, filling him with heat and making his eyes roll back. His hands, which had slipped under your shirt, clawed at your back. Short, blunt nails leaving faint scratches behind. He was moaning openly, now. The noises interspersed with desperate whines. He planted his hands flat against your lower back, hips jerking and rocking up into yours, messy and uncoordinated as his cock leaked in his pants. He could feel the puddle of precum forming on his lower belly, wet and sticky, but couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when it felt so good.

You pulled your fangs free, tongue sliding over the wounds, greedily lapping whatever came freely until they closed and the blood flow stopped. You pulled away fully then, your smirk cruel and wicked at the whimper Ford let out beneath you. You stared down at him, tracking his every movement and twitch with predatory precision. You clocked the flush on his cheeks. The glassy, distant look in his warm brown eyes, glossed over with tears. You felt the way his skin heated where it pressed against yours, the desperate grinding of his hips.

To Ford, you were a vision. Carnal lust incarnate. There was a light flush over your cheeks, color slowly leeching into your normally pale complexion and Ford could feel the warmth returning to your skin. You were a messy eater, blood smeared over your lips and coating your fangs. And Ford might've been ashamed of the way it made his cock throb if your didn't look just as wrecked as he did. Your eyes were glowing, vibrant and feverish as they drank in his desperate appearance.

"Fuck- don't... don't stop, please," he moaned, breathy and desperate. You swallowed, tip of your tongue darting out to lick the blood from your lips, savoring it as it coated the muscle.

"Yeah?" You breathed. "Y'want more? Oh, of course you do, just look at you." You slid your hand that wasn't in his hair down his chest, wishing you had taken it off him so you could admire the flush painting his skin. "So desperate and I've hardly even done anything," you rolled your hips against him, riding and smoothing out his messy bucks and grinds against you, making Ford tremble and whimper beneath you. "Think you could cum like this? From just rubbing your messy cock against me like a bitch in heat while I drink you down?" Your words were filthy, obscene, and Ford loved it. He was nodding furiously before you'd even finished, hands pushing and pulling at you. Head craning back and baring his throat to you again.

"Yes, yes, yes please," he begged. His voice roughened and gravelly with need. "It's- God, it feels so good I didn't- didn't expect-" his thoughts were jumbled, messy. It was a struggle getting them out amidst the pure want scorching through him. You slid your hand back up his chest, resting it at the base of his throat, thumb stroking over the patch of skin you'd just bitten. Ford keened, hips bucking up into yours.

"Thaaats it, so good for me," you purred, letting his hands grip your hips, holding you to him as he grinded against you. "Make yourself feel good, such a good boy." You leaned back down and one of Ford's hands slid up to your back again, holding you there as if he was afraid you'd pull away. You chuckled softly, sinking your fangs into that same spot again.

Ford moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt another spurt of pre coat the inside of his boxers. He was dimly aware of the words leaving his mouth amidst the moan, barely audible whimpers of 'yes, fuck yes' and 'oh god, so good, so so good' leaving his lips. He wasn't even coherent enough to register the pressure in his belly, his orgasm creeping up fast, but you could. You could taste it in his blood, the way it seemed to sweeten in your mouth. Your chest rumbled, a feral growl vibrating your skin.

Ford came just like this. Your teeth in his throat, the prick of your claws against his scalp as he squeezed the fat of your hips in his hands. Hips jerking, mouth slack, and eyes rolling back. Soft, aborted little whimpers left his lips as he came, soaking the front of his pants with hot ribbons of cum. His whole body trembling, oversensitive yet still leaning into your touch as you laved your tongue over the wound, waiting until it closed to pull away fully.

"Fuck," he groaned, hot and rough. You sat up, keeping your hips lifted so as not to overstimulate him. At least, not now.

"Good?" You asked, smirking because you knew the answer already. Ford gazed up at you, a blush heating his cheeks. You looked thoroughly satisfied. A flush on your cheeks and eyes bright. He sat up suddenly and you yelped, falling back as he crowded you against the sheets.

"You have no idea," he groaned, swooping in to kiss you deeply. Moaning softly at the taste of his own blood that still lingered on your tongue.

[arimiadev]

recommendations of visual novels on sale for the steam spring sale 2025

spring is almost here and with it is Steam's Spring Sale! like usual, it will run for the next two weeks, so if you're looking for a new visual novel to try (or want to get into them), here's a lot that I've played that are on sale on steam.

umineko when they cry

the ushiromiya family returns to the family head's home on an isolated island for their annual conference with the intention of settling how his vast amount of wealth is divided. instead, though, a letter is left from someone claiming to be a "witch". with the ushiromiyas dropping dead left and right, the mystery behind everything remains to be solved by you, the reader.

I can't make a recommendation list without mentioning umineko. it's life changing. it might even trans your gender. it's hard to describe umineko, but just know that it's absolutely deserving of the "cult classic" tag.

notes:

kinetic/linear - no choices

VERY long, 120+ hours (over all 8 episodes)

divided into two games on steam - Questions Arcs is the first 4 episodes and Answers Arcs is the last 4 episodes (8 episodes in total, play Questions Arcs first)

created by Ryukishi07, creator of Higurashi

fantasy vs mystery

ace attorney

follow phoenix wright as he embarks on his career as a lawyer to help people. meet a variety of clients and prove their innocence by collecting evidence, interviewing witnesses, and exposing lies in court.

ace attorney is a classic mystery visual novels, being a blend of point-and-click elements via investigations and visual novel storytelling. the steam port is a massive collection, combining the first 3 games (the original phoenix wright trilogy) as 1 game.

notes:

investigative gameplay segments, a good chunk of the story is point-and-click parts

pretty long for the whole trilogy- each game is around 20 hours long and the steam edition is 3 games

modern murder mystery with supernatural elements

of the devil

in a cyberpunk world where everyone has cameras connected to the police infrastructure, how do you get away with crime? get a killer lawyer.

meet ace attorney with gambling addict lesbians in one of the most stylish games I've seen in years, all made by a very tiny indie team. currently only episode 1 is released, but it's well worth your time if you're a fan of detective-style murder mystery visual novels.

notes:

only episode 1 is out (around 9-13 hours)

lots of interactive segments similar to ace attorney, but with more variety for questioning segments

sci-fi murder mystery

ai: the somnium files

play as detective kaname date as he hunts down a serial killer using a cutting-edge technology which allows him to "psync" with a person, diving into the memories of others to solve crimes in a limited amount of time with the help of his AI assistant/eyeball Aiba.

aitsf is a lot. it's probably the raunchiest non-eroge game I've ever played and despite my low tolerance for dirty jokes I found most of it to be laughable and a fun experience, though I did play this with friends. if it's a miss for you, it's gonna miss you by a wide margin, but if it's a hit for you, you're going to be recommending it nonstop. either way you'll want to hit kaname date with a car.

notes:

long, around 25-35 hours

this game heavily relies on going back to prior choices via their branching menu to try other options in order to get the full story (and true ending). there are several endings to this game but you're meant to play through them all, not just one or two.

a lot of gameplay and interactive segments

sci-fi murder mystery

english voice acting

witch on the holy night

aoko aozaki is a highschooler who has to balance her class president, perfect grades life with her secret afterschool life of being a mage—a secret she has to keep at the risk of death. keeping this balance already isn’t easy but one day she gets a wrench thrown into it with the introduction of a transfer student, soujuurou shizuki, a country boy so out of touch that he’s never seen electricity before.

I love witch on the holy night so, so much. it's one of the most beautifully directed visual novels ever made with so much love and care put into each frame. the cast is wonderful (touko my beloved) and it's a must-read for anyone who likes modern-ish fantasy.

notes:

kinetic / linear - no choices

long, around 25-30 hours

originally written by kinoko nasu, one of the co-founders of type-moon and creators of fate/stay night. has some relation to tsukihime and garden of sinners but you don't need any knowledge of those going in

modern-ish (1980s) fantasy with lots of talking about magic

ghostpia

a snowy town filled with "ghosts" is where the young woman sayako finds herself trapped, feeling like she doesn't belong and wants to leave this town where no one dies.

it's hard to describe ghostpia. it's a surreal-ish story about "ghosts" where every character is quirkier than the last but every part is made with so much heart behind it. you never really know where the story is going, but unfortunately only 1 season is currently out on steam.

notes:

medium length, around 10 hours

very innovative and unique use of visuals and paneling

surreal-ish (sometimes violent) fantasy

please be happy

as a shapeshifting fox called a "gumiho", miho has traveled the world in search for a traveler who showed her kindness many years ago. afraid of sticking around in one place for too long, miho has never stayed anywhere for more than a few nights- but all of that changes when she arrives in wellington, new zealand and meets the barista/writer aspen and the vampire archivist juliet.

okay I did work on this one but hear me out. please be happy was a labor of love for our team that took over 3 years to make and is a slice of life story about love, trust, and what it means to be human. and you get to play as a gay fox girl voiced by dottovu.

notes:

medium to long, about 20 hours

2 romanceable ladies, aspen and juliet, and a plethora of side characters to meet via a map system

modern slice-of-life fantasy

english voice acting

WE KNOW THE DEVIL

find yourself back at summer camp with all the queer religious horror of it.

WE KNOW THE DEVIL is a short, atmospheric and slightly surreal story about 3 teens at a religious summer camp waiting for the devil. if you want something that feels familiar and otherworldly at the same time, this is right up your alley.

notes:

very short, about 2 hours

3 endings and 1 true ending

isolation, psychological horror

fate/stay night

seven mages known as masters summon heroic and fictional characters from the pantheon of history to fight it out over the ultimate magical item - the holy grail.

fate/stay night is one of the most well-known visual novel properties out there and it's finally not only available in english officially but on steam! this remaster is a treat and done with a lot of care put into it, it's a great way to get into the fateverse if you've never tried it before.

notes:

pretty long, 70+ hours

3 routes / heroines to be with with lots of bad endings

modern fantasy, battle royale

mamiya

the end of the world is near. what will you do in the final months? and who is this "MAMIYA" who proclaims their love for you?

MAMIYA is a dark mystery visual novel about a group of guys who meet during the funeral for a friend, a stranger, a passerby, and become entangled in the web of an entity known as "MAMIYA". the presentation and style feels fresh.

notes:

check out the content warnings before reading

medium length, but is segmented into a lot of chapters that make it easy to pick back up

dark modern mystery with supernatural elements

a date with death

the grim reaper contacts you saying he wants your soul. naturally, you respond...with flirting??

a date with death is a free game but it does have paid DLC so I'm including it here because I want to. it's a comfy chatsim romance visual novel about, well, courting the grim reaper.

notes:

short, around 8 hours for the base game

customizable protag

1 male love interest

cute modern supernatural romance

twofold

Olive has 1 last chance to graduate college - pass a filler class. when their situation comes to light, 2 club presidents agree to help them but end up dragging them in the middle of their feud...

I also worked on this one. the writing and art is truly charming and heartfelt. it's a story about romance but also relationships in general - friendships, platonic relationships, familial bonds, etc. this visual novel took several years to be completed and the final result is one made with a lot of love.

notes:

medium, around 15-20+ hours for both routes

nonbinary protagonist, 2 female love interests

modern slice-of-life, college setting

english voice acting

slay the princess

you're tasked with a simple goal - slay the princess, or else she'll destroy the world.

talk about taking a simple premise and running with it. slay the princess is a mind-bending psychological horror about love and repeating things a lot of times. after all, all you have to do is slay the princess, right?

notes:

short to medium, around 10 hours for a full run

lots and lots and lots of branching paths

psychological horror, does contain gore

english voice acting

canvas menagerie

Niko is a trans man and lifelong actor who's been down on his luck until he gets the lead role in a major TV show. there, he starts to fall for his annoying celebrity costar.

well I wrote and drew and programmed this one by myself so I can't really give an indepth recommendation for it but I think it came out pretty nice and currently only has positive reviews. it's a comfy gay romance about actors.

notes:

medium length, around 10-12 hours

boys love romance

modern slice-of-life, adult cast

------------

note that most of the indie visual novels listed are also available on itchio as DRM-free versions. there's a ton of VNs on sale over there right now as well.

[elysia-nsimp]

Hey so, I saw the post you deleted and I'd like to point out something. Saying stuff like 'he's written badly and makes little sense' comes across as kinda, 'foregone conclusion' that he is, like it's a factual matter of 'good vs bad' and not one of missed nuances and confusing framing as well as opinion? I think that's what annoyed people. Sorry that one of them was a bit harsh though

I realized that my wording probably felt like.. I was missing something major or missing parts of his character, which is why I made my edit to try to recontextualize what I meant. Kokichi’s writing is not black and white, good or bad, just. Could have been done better in my opinion (emphasis on MY opinion please don’t kill me)

Communicating exactly what I mean is difficult for me, which is probably part of the confusion (and in turn the anger I received), but at the end of the day, my opinions on how his character was framed and written by the story itself was NOT the point of the post at all. It was more background context that I only wanted to briefly touch on, which in hindsight I could have easily left out. Alas, I have no concept of what’s socially acceptable, ESPECIALLY not in the Danganronpa community. Accidentally whacked a wasp nest with that one, and that was my bad.

My post was a question about a COMPLETE rewrite, because I wanted to do something new with the character using my own viewpoints and I wanted to know what others would find a more interesting concept to explore. I got my answer, with almost everyone agreeing taking a more sympathetic antag route would be more interesting (as much fun as I would have had trying to write a version of Kokichi that’s irredeemable, because I do love that type of character, admittedly writing the aforementioned is much easier)

I do apologize, genuinely, for the misunderstandings my lack of communication skills led to. I did not mean to offend anyone or come across as high and mighty or anything of the sort. I did not handle the situation as masterfully as I had liked, but rest assured I will be more careful next time. I understand where I went wrong and will be choosing my words more carefully if I ever criticize a character’s written framing again.

At this point I’d kind of like to just. Leave that alone and not talk about it beyond this post? I don’t take well to conflict and otherwise strong emotional reactions due to my own neurodivergencies, which frankly isn’t any one’s problem but mine, but that’s why the post is now deleted.

I send well wishes to anyone reading this, and thanks to the people who had genuinely kind and helpful responses to everything that happened. I am still learning how to exist and interact, so the compassion expressed by people like Anon here is much appreciated. /gen

[sealrock]

febhyurary, day 8: crystal

30th sun of the 2nd astral moon, 1568

elaine tatlonghari's field report #19 "it is the nineteenth day of our excursion deep within the eastern region of the twelveswood, and before now we have uncovered naught but the standard fare of dirt, rock, and peculiar vegetation samples. just when it seemed our luck, and our studium funds, were running out, my fellows from the excavation team stumbled upon something rather curious: a shimmering yellow stone—nay, 'stone' is not what I would call this, more like a crystal. no bigger than my hand, I find its weight strangely leaden cradled within my palm. upon further inspection, it's not like any crystal I have seen. to be so perfectly smooth without so much as a scratch, complete with jagged edges sharp enough to puncture skin. whereupon hitting a light source, the crystal takes on an almost translucent appearance. it appears to have a pattern etched on its surface, but I do not yet know its meaning. my associate haeljarr believes it to be some sort of star map for an ancient civilization that once inhabited this corner of the twelveswood, before the time of the amdapori; could it be a representation of an age-old constellation? I'm not so easily convinced; to have lay under the dust and grime of crushing rubble for such a long stretch of time with nary a sign of age to show for it... haeljarr was always fond of his lofty summations. it is my belief that this crystal is of our age, perhaps dropped by another archaeologist somewhere out there. we will not know for sure until further studies are done. nevertheless, we shall continue our excavation on the 'morrow in hope we uncover more crystals like this. if they're anything like allagan tomestones, this discovery should hold some worthwhile knowledge."

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[shepherdingthepie]

feelin like I need a good snuggle right now

I need someone to come up and hug me from behind and rest their forehead on the base of my neck

and then I’ll turn around and hug them from the front

and rest my chin on the top of their head

and close my eyes

and all will be okay in the world for a moment

[heffrondriving]

❝ . . . Until he burp-asks her out. Or gives her a gift, which will be a frog. ❞

: ̗̀❥ KENLOS in S03E04: BIG TIME DOUBLE DATE

+ bonus lil gif bc it's too cute to not include ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ~ 💚💙