#this post isn’t going to make any sense in the morning is it

[hannieween]

kiss and tell | wicked games series

Mingyu was hurting, that was the thing. But he missed the way you looked at him, like he was worth sticking around for. Even if he couldn’t see that in himself back then.

☾ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader ☾ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ☾ aus: bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, messy love triangle, friends with benefits ☾ word count: 14k

› PREVIOUS CHAPTERS – READ MORE

🎧: excuses – twlv | kiss&tell – ethan low and gen neo | amigos – bibi and becky g | blame – i.m | screen time – epik high ft. hoshi | good sport – hyejin

☾ warnings: smut with plot, hurt/comfort, hard dom wonwoo, brat reader, use of sex toys, masturbation, fingering, squirting, creampie, bdsm: light choking, manhandling, crymaxing, dirty talk, cussing, unprotected p in v sex, after care. reader is chubby. pet names: ma'am, baby (hers)

☾ author's note: helloooooo!! we're back with another chapter and oh my god!! last chapter you guys were amazing with the feedback. y'all really know how to make a girl feel special 🥺 anyways, enjoy this chapter!! love yous

☾ author's note pt2: the sex scene for this chapter is looooooooooooong. like wonu's c—[GUNSHOTS]

no but fr the sex scene is like 5k words 🧍🏻‍♀️ enjoy! ksksks

☾ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and do not to look like a bot 🙂

kiss and tell

Jeon Wonwoo woke up with a start.

He opened his eyes to an apartment that for one second he didn’t recognize. Everything looked different now that the sunlight was pouring from the windows.

He rolled over to reach out for his glasses on your nightstand, letting out a small sigh as the first movements of the morning got him feeling a little bit more awake.

A small jolt of his heart gave him the impulse to sit up. You were nowhere to be seen. But as he focused his senses, he heard the faint noise coming from the shower.

Wonwoo sighed, leaning back on the headboard of your bed. Then, everything came crashing down on him—the memories from last night, what he did. What you and he did together.

If last night had been a random booty call, then now it would be a perfect opportunity for him to grab his shit and walk out of your apartment.

But no, last night was different. No matter how he’d slice it, it was something he couldn’t walk away from. And he didn’t want to.

He looked at the ceiling, thinking of how to approach this situation as though he were organizing the pieces of a very complex puzzle. First, he’d have to talk to you, and then, he’d have to tell Mingyu what happened.

His heart deflated upon that last thought.

Wonwoo would’ve never imagined he’d be in this situation. Sure, he made the very conscious decision to kiss you, and then sleep with you. But everything that happened before that was something he never planned for.

And last night… he got to know how far his impulses could go if he lets his guard down. If he allows to act on his feelings.

He blinked slowly, releasing a long sigh through his nose.

The noise coming from the bathroom ceased. Wonwoo rose from your bed and slowly started gathering his clothes, putting them on one by one almost robotically. He stood before your bed, fully dressed now, thinking.

The bathroom door clicked softly, and then the steam and the smell of your shampoo quickly filled the air of your studio apartment.

The smell made his guts twist. Sweet, citrusy, and addictive. It instantly flashed a memory in his mind of him sinking his nose in your hair while he was buried deep inside your body.

Fuck. This isn’t good, he thought.

Some seconds later, you emerged from the bathroom wrapped up in a bathrobe, your humid hair resting on your shoulder as you dried the ends with a towel.

Wonwoo watched your expression intently, looking for any signs of regret. He took a deep breath, mustering some courage in case you decided to ask him to leave.

But you smiled softly at him. Your eyes were devoid of any emotion, making him think that you probably didn’t rest well.

“Hi,” you sighed, the corners of your eyes lifting slightly.

“Morning,” he replied, then realized how gruff his voice sounded and cleared it awkwardly before adding, “Did you sleep well?”

You were padding slowly towards him until you stood a few steps away. Your heart was racing, and your entire body was rigid with the fear of the unexpected. “I uh, yeah. I slept alright,” you replied, your tone sounding off. “You?”

Wonwoo nodded dryly.

You exchanged a long look. One that was guarded by both the inability to start having the talk and the urge to just keep going. To push it down.

You motioned to the kitchen. “Do-do you—” you stammered, pausing to take a breath. “Do you want some coffee?”

Wonwoo picked up every detail that you tried to hide—how your fingers twisted and twirled your wet hair, but they still trembled in doing so, or the nervous way you swallowed, trying to slow down your breathing.

He knew what you were feeling—and it wasn’t hard to guess because he was also feeling it too. The nervous fluttering inside, one that spread all over your body and tingled beneath your skin.

“Sure,” he muttered, giving you a tiny nod.

You turned to the kitchen before you let the moment linger for too long. You felt like the more you stood around, the more he got to notice just how nervous you actually were.

You vaguely remembered how it was when Mingyu stayed the night for the first time. How it had felt too natural to have him in your space.

You chewed on your lower lip as you poured water into the coffee machine and turned the button on. Discarding those memories, concluding that it would probably feel natural for Wonwoo to be there if he weren’t Mingyu’s best friend.

You liked Wonwoo. And given the turn of events of last night, you wanted him more than you had originally imagined.

But it still felt wrong.

The air between you had permanently changed. It made your chest ache, the feeling so tight you couldn’t get rid of it as you sighed deeply.

Wonwoo watched you from where he stood at the foot of the kitchen. He wanted to get closer to you, to drive your gaze towards his. But your focus was zeroed on the coffee dripping slowly into the pot, trying to hide your face from his scrutiny.

But he had to break the silence. With a rapid heartbeat, he asked: “Are we going to talk about it?”

His voice was gruff, heavy with emotion. The sound of his nervousness made your senses awake, as though your own nervousness had been trying to bury you by force.

You turned around, finding him leaning against the kitchen counter. God, he was glorious, in all his dishevelled form. His hair was messy from the night before, and despite being well-rested, he looked slightly tired. Sleepy.

You didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. There was no going around the subject. You met his eyes, finding the seriousness there that made your stomach flip.

“Yeah. I think we should,” you replied, your tone low. “I’m sorry. About last night.”

Wonwoo’s gaze snapped to yours, reading your face swiftly. Like your words had hit him somewhere tender. “Don’t,” he mumbled. “Don’t apologize.”

Part of you wondered why you always resorted to apologizing—or why you felt like Wonwoo needed you to say sorry. You didn’t want to give him the feeling that you regretted what happened. Because you didn’t.

“Listen. Last night wasn’t planned,” he said gently. “And I don’t expect you to know what to do with it. I don’t even know what to do with it.”

You exhaled, feeling that ache return to your chest. “It wasn’t just what happened last night. It’s everything leading up to it,” you said, wishing you could muster some strength to hold his gaze. But eventually you dropped it to the floor. “I’m still figuring out the things that hurt me.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I know,” he said softly. “And I won’t push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You looked up, finding his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m ready… for you,” you whispered.

Wonwoo took a step towards you, but he didn’t reach out to touch you. Not yet. “You don’t have to be,” he replied in kind.

Your heart twisted, as though it knew you were making a mistake and just kept digging your grave. “But last night…”

“I know,” he nodded softly. His eyes outlined the features of your face, taking in every detail. “I don’t regret it.”

The way that he was looking at you made your heart ease. There was no pressure, no desperation for you to give in. Only patience.

“What if I mess it up?” you whispered.

Wonwoo shrugged lightly. “Then we mess it up,” he replied, smiling faintly. “But at least we can say that we tried.”

You tried to pay attention to what your heart felt, beating fast, painfully loud. “I don’t want to hurt you, Wonwoo,” you whispered. You bit your lower lip, trying to stop it from quivering.

“Then don’t,” he said gently. “Pull the breaks when you need it,” he smiled, shrugging. “But don’t hold yourself back either.”

Silence fell again, and then you knew why your heart was so stressed. “What about Mingyu?”

His lips parted slightly. There was an answer ready because he didn’t skip a second. “Don’t worry about him,” he said. “Let me worry about him for now.”

You dropped your gaze again, eyes brimming with tears. You missed Mingyu. That was a fact that was still real as everything you felt last night. All the despair, the raw emotion. You were angry at him for breaking your heart, but at the same time, you didn’t know how he’d take this.

But he used you. He broke you and walked away, a dark part of you raged.  

“Hey,” Wonwoo whispered, his hand finally finding yours. His fingers slipped onto your palm, pressing it gently.

You raised your eyes, releasing your tears. You sniffled, the sound making you laugh embarrassedly.

Wonwoo showed you a smile, one that made the nose of his bridge wrinkle. He took another step towards you, his knee brushing against yours. “We don’t have to be anything yet. We can go as slow as you need,” he muttered softly, while his thumb brushed the back of your hand. “I’m not in a rush.”

The words rung with a strange familiarity. As they sank in your mind, they rhymed with a distant memory, one that you weren’t ready to revisit yet.

You turned your hand over slightly, finding his fingers to lace them with yours. The gesture was so tiny, yet so gentle that it had your heart melting.

You found his gaze again, giving him a cautious smile. The way his hair looked made your tummy twist, and you subconsciously reached out with your free hand to brush the messy strands of hair back into order.

“Do I look bad?” he asked softly, reading your face.

“Just like you fell out of bed,” you joked, letting out a short giggle.

Wonwoo smiled sheepishly. “Can I…” he motioned to the bathroom door.

“Of course,” you whispered, stepping back to let him go fix his form.

You turned to take out two cups from the cabinet. The coffee machine had stopped brewing, and it was now softly hissing when you took the jar and poured two cups of coffee, leaving out space for cream in case Wonwoo took his coffee with cream.

You don’t know anything about him, the thought invaded you. You don’t know how he takes his coffee. Or what he likes having for breakfast. The overwhelming need to know more about him came about you when you heard the door click softly.

Wonwoo came back, looking more like he did last night. His hair looked more put together and you realized that he had also cleaned his glasses.

“How do you take yours?” you asked, handing him his cup.

“Black is perfect,” he sighed softly, taking a sip. “Thanks,” he muttered with a pleased look.

You sipped slowly from your cup, watching him intently.

It wasn’t a requirement to know everything about a person to harbor feelings for them. You knew this. But why did you feel a responsibility to know more about him?

Wonwoo read your expression, finding the curiosity in it. There was something more, something that made your eyes look sweet, tender.

He lowered his cup to the counter reaching out to grab you by the waist. The feeling of his hand on top of your clothes awoke your entire body, creating a tingling sensation on your skin.

You lowered your cup too, straightening up as he came closer to you. “Come here,” he said, bringing you to a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body to his frame.

He was tall enough to rest his cheek on your head, using his arms around you to rock you gently.

Being in his arms soothed your heart instantly. You didn’t need to know everything about Wonwoo, but you knew why the urge was created. You liked him. You liked being around him. It felt like the pieces of your heart weren’t struggling to mend themselves back together. It felt easier to breathe.

You pressed the side of your face on his chest, sighing out the soreness in your chest. You wanted to cry—but it felt different from last night. It felt as though you had been trying to keep your emotions in a box, but have been fighting against the lid to keep it closed. And now, being safe in Wonwoo’s embrace, you were finally free to feel those emotions.

You sniffled softly against his chest, turning your face to snuggle against his warmth.

Wonwoo heard you. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Cry it out. I’m here for you.”

Hot tears started to spill from your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. The words, I’m sorry formed in your lips, but you were unable to bring them out.

But Wonwoo repeated, “It’s okay,” without knowing that you were about to apologize from crying. It was like he knew.

He didn’t know how you liked your coffee either. But somehow, he knew you.

You let out a sad laugh. “I’m a mess,” you said, your tone made weak by the tears that kept on coming.

Wonwoo pulled back, his hands finding your face, cupping your cheeks. He leaned his head to look into your eyes. “We’re a mess,” he corrected. “But I’m not running away. And I’m not going to push you into anything,” he held your gaze, his softening by the sight of your teary eyes. Then slowly, he uttered the next words: “I want you.”

You raised one hand, pressing your palm to the back of one of his hands and leaning your face against it. You closed your eyes, letting more tears go.

You wanted him too. Deep down, you knew it. But the fears and the heartache made it impossible for you to admit it aloud, even if you gave yourself to him the night before. It was obvious, and you wondered if Wonwoo’s ability to study you had already found that out.

Something told you that he already knew you wanted him too.

A warm feeling settled in your chest. “I’ll try not to freak out,” you whispered, opening your eyes to find him.

He pursed his lips cutely. “I’ll try not to give you reasons to.”

Then he bent over, lips pressing against your forehead. He kissed it slowly, then moved his face to yours.

You held your breath when the tip of his nose bumped onto yours. Then he hesitated, pausing so close to you that you felt the gentle caress of his breath.

You gave in.

Joining your lips with his felt too natural. The pull you felt towards him was so great that you forgot about the worries that clouded your mind. So you kissed him. You kissed him deeply, like you had nothing to fear.

A tiny gasp broke from your chest as you moved your lips with his seamlessly. His hands still cupped your face, only moving you to tilt your head back for him, angling you perfectly for more of his kisses.

He broke the kiss, only to move his lips to one of your cheeks. You let out a short giggle, feeling his lips on your other cheek, realizing that he was kissing your tears.

He pressed his forehead against yours, sighing out in something that felt to you like relief. You tasted the coffee on his lips, mixed with the saltiness from your tears when he pressed his lips against yours one more time.

Wonwoo felt something unexplainable for you. He saw the girl that had been hurt ten times over and still had love to give. He saw the softness in you, the loving nature in you that you were now trying to protect. And he wanted to protect it too.

“I have to go,” he whispered, but he didn’t back away.

“Okay,” you whispered back, afraid to let go and open your eyes.

“If you need me, I’ll be a call away,” he promised.

You nodded shortly, not trusting yourself to speak up.

Wonwoo stopped cupping your face, taking a step back. Reluctantly, he grabbed his jacket, and his phone, turning to the door. As he turned the handle, he looked back at you.

You took two steps to him, grabbing his face to press a goodbye kiss on his lips. He kissed you back instantly, sighing out a smile.

“Text me when you get home?” you mumbled meekly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, kissing you one more time before he stepped out of your apartment.

And as you went back to your silence, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself against it. It wasn’t the kind of silence that made you sink into it. You were for once, staying afloat.

Mingyu leaned his forearms against the sink, staring into the empty tub of ice. The emptiness inside it, paired with the bustling noise from the kitchen pulled him into his thoughts, making him drift away and somewhere else.

He remembered the echoes of your laughs back in your apartment. The way your eyes brimmed up with years and your voice cracked when you confessed something close to you. And how he said he wouldn’t walk away from you.

He remembered the moment he left you back at the basketball court. The way you sat at the bleachers, crying in heartache.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, sighing into his palm.

“What’s up Mings? You okay?” Wonwoo asked, appearing beside him with a crate full of beers, which he settled on the floor gently.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. “Yeah,” he croaked, resuming to clear out the bar off the clean glasses, putting them where they belonged.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t press. He then turned away, disappearing into the hall to get another crate of beers.

Mingyu gnawed on his bottom lip, losing himself to another memory, torturing himself. This memory was a sweet one. One where he made love to you, holding your hand, telling you to breathe with him. He remembered the look on your eyes, his heart stammering painfully now.

Wonwoo came back, kicking the door open. The look on Mingyu’s face must’ve been telling what he was feeling inside, because Wonwoo just sighed, exasperated. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mingyu finally broke, shaking his head swiftly. “It’s been over a month,” he said, raising his eyebrows a little.

Wonwoo panned to him. “Since?”

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. “Since I last saw her.”

Wonwoo’s gaze sharpened slightly, parting his mouth to say something.

But Mingyu continued, finally raising his gaze to meet Wonwoo. “Do you think she hates me?”

Wonwoo pressed his lips together in an awkward expression. “Why are you asking me?”

Mingyu let out a short laugh. “Right, what am I even saying?” he sighed, setting down the last piece of glassware on the rack.

Wonwoo kept quiet, bending down to put one of the crates on the counter and keeping an eye on Mingyu.

“I’ve been thinking about texting her, calling her,” Mingyu confessed, starting to get the beers out of the crate one by one. He pressed his lips into a tight line for a second before adding. “I almost did a dozen times.”

“Why haven’t you?” the question came out of Wonwoo with a flat tone.

Mingyu sighed. “Because I don’t know if I even deserve to,” he muttered. “I panicked, I really did. And I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Wonwoo set the second crate down on the counter with more force than necessary. “Then why did you do it? Why did you leave?”

Mingyu turned his head, confused by the shift in tone.

“I mean, really,” Wonwoo continued, directing Mingyu a hard gaze. “You said you weren’t all in. You told me that you felt like you were going to mess it up. So what is it now?”

“Well, you said it—I messed up,” Mingyu said bitterly. “I was scared that I would end up hurting her because I’m not fully healed but, I realize now that I could’ve worked through it. I could’ve done more.”

“Done more?” Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean done more?”

Mingyu nodded slowly. “Maybe if I had made the effort to be with her, maybe I could’ve told her to give me a chance while I fix my shitty life—instead of breaking up with her,” he lowered his gaze, adding with a softer tone: “And hurting her.”

Wonwoo remained impassive, letting the silence stretch between him and Mingyu. Waiting.

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair. “Now I don’t even know if she’d talk to me. Or if she should.”

“Maybe it’s not about what you want anymore,” Wonwoo said, quieter this time, his tone coated with something Mingyu couldn’t place.

Mingyu stilled, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You broke up with her,” Wonwoo added. “And whatever reason you had, whatever reason you gave her for walking away, it better still hold up if you’re thinking about looking for her again.”

Mingyu didn’t reply, but he couldn’t hide the hurt showing on his face.

Wonwoo watched him for a second longer, letting the message sink. Then he turned, opening the fridge to start restocking it methodically. He didn’t offer Mingyu advice, nor nudge him toward texting you. And he wouldn’t.

Mingyu didn’t dwell on his best friend’s blunt reply. He picked up a glass, staring at the reflection in it.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

Wonwoo sighed softly, letting the remorse twist inside him. “I’m aware.”

Mingyu was used to Wonwoo’s expressionless manner. But this was different, guarded.

“What happened?” he pressed, not looking at him.

“Something came up,” Wonwoo said, realizing that it was the same thing he texted Mingyu the night before. He added, “A friend had some issues. Needed a hand with something, so I helped.”

“A friend?” Mingyu’s brow furrowed, now turning over his shoulder to look at Wonwoo.

But he remained impassive, putting one bottle after another inside the fridge. “Yeah.”

“You have other friends?” Mingyu joked, laughing lightly. But then his ears perked, his eyelids fluttering dumbly. “Oh,” he uttered, then another joyful giggle bubbled up. “Oh—is this…? Are you—are you seeing someone?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Mingyu said, dragging his words in a tone that Wonwoo found jarring.

“A gentleman doesn’t share his secrets,” he said, letting himself smile a little.

“A gentleman? You?” Mingyu snickered, letting out a high-pitched wail that resonated across the empty bar. “So that means it is a woman you went off to see! Ah, you have to tell me everything.”

Wonwoo peeked from the door of the fridge, shaking his head. “I won’t tell you anything. Not until you finished setting up.”

Mingyu groaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bar. “You’re all work no fun, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonwoo muttered dismissively.

Wonwoo closed the door of the fridge, walking away to get another crate while Mingyu remained behind the bar. He stared at the shelves of liquor, thinking that he’d have to get up there soon and clean them.

Something felt off about Wonwoo. To Mingyu, there was something more than a casual display of seriousness. Wonwoo was usually livelier than his observant manner. Something was off, his gut instinct said. Not that Wonwoo was coming off as cold, nor aggressive. Just careful, and quiet.

Mingyu picked up a rag, wiping down the counter with slow, methodical motions. His thoughts kept circling back to you, just like always. How your voice used to soften when he called you in the middle of the night. How you would wait for him to clock off so you could walk home together, even if it was way past midnight.

He didn’t deserve to miss that. But he did.

Mingyu exhaled softly, checking his phone again. Mechanically, he opened your chat, his fingertip tapping on your profile photo. His gut twisted.

You had changed your profile photo.

It now displayed a very different photo. From the photo where you were standing with a cute smile, a colorful mural behind you, now you showed one with a bleak background of the river. The features of your face looked soft still, but there was a coldness in your eyes.

Your smile was gone. And now all Mingyu saw was the raw, cold emotion in your eyes.

You were beautiful, you always were.

But Mingyu couldn’t help but feel that the image where you were smiling was stolen from him. For days and nights, all he had was your pretty smile to look at.  

Now that was over too.

Wonwoo returned to the bar, slipping behind the counter and putting down the crate of beers. He pulled open a drawer, busying himself with receipts and notes. Wonwoo darted a glance back at Mingyu from the corner of his eye.

“So you think it’s a good idea that I leave her alone?” Mingyu asked anxiously.

Wonwoo didn’t look up. “I think that’s not my call.”

“But if it was?” Mingyu chewed on his bottom lip.

That made Wonwoo pause. He put the receipts back on the drawer and turned to meet Mingyu’s gaze. “I think that if you’re going to reach out, be sure that it’s not because you’re hurting—” he said, then cut himself off, shaking his head like he was dismissing a painful remark. “I think that with all you’ve done already, she deserves a real apology.”

“I am going to apologize,” Mingyu said, taken aback. His shoulders slacked. “Hyung, you don’t understand—” he swallowed hard, composing himself. “I want her back.”

Wonwoo’s lips parted, his eyes widening slightly.

But Mingyu didn’t see the change in his best friend’s expression. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I don’t want to hurt her ever again,” he mumbled, looking down at the lacquered counter.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side. “Then don’t.”

It sounded simple.

But that was the thing. Mingyu was hurting. But he wanted you and missed you for you—not just because of the comfort you gave. He missed the way he felt when he was around you, simply existing. Mingyu missed the way you looked at him like he was worth sticking around for.

Even if he couldn’t see that in himself back then.

Sometimes, he thought of his ex—Gigi. Of how even months after breaking up, she still tried to contact him. His guts twisted one more time. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve already healed in all this time he hasn’t contacted you. Maybe he’s just messing things up more.

And that wasn’t fair for you.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Mingyu sighed, reconsidering again. “What am I even doing?” he muttered, more to himself than to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo sighed heavily. “Look, do what you have to do,” he said, his tone hardening slightly with annoyance. “But please, can you get to work? I’m drowning here and we only have twenty minutes till we open up.”  

Mingyu straightened, laughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head to keep you away from his thoughts.

For now.

“You didn’t have to fuck him though,” Mona said, looking at you with a concerned look on her face.

You laughed out loud, letting the red wine fuel your whole body. Your cheeks were flushed with the effects of your third glass of wine.

“I mean—” Mona started, but got caught off. She laughed, finally infected with the sound of your giggles. “—what is it with you and toxic guys? Do you have a magnet for them? Where do I get one?”

You continued laughing, head tilted back. It had been a while since you’ve had a night like this.

You were sitting in a half-empty bar, tucked between two other very loud bars. The place was cozy—totally the opposite to what The Spot was. This was bright, colorful, full of earthy tones and fairy lights that coiled around the warm lights overhead.

Mona watched your smile, and you swore you saw a tint of warmth there. “I’m glad you’re better,” she said, then blinked a couple of times. “Well, not better-better, but like—” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m glad you’re not with that asshole anymore. He was truly sucking the life out of you.”

You sighed “I’m trying,” you said softly. “There are some bad days, and some good ones.”

“And today?” she asked, giving you an exaggerated inquisitive look.

You took a sip of wine, feeling pensive. “Today I’m good. Not perfect. But okay.”

Mona reached across the small table to squeeze your hand. “I’m really proud of you.”

You talked about everything and nothing for another hour. About work. Her new co-worker she thought was cute. About the graphic design course you were taking. About the new guy at the gym she was pretending not to notice. Everything and nothing.

And when it was time to step out of the bar, the air had cooled, but your laughter was still warm in your chest. The taste of wine lingering on your tongue.

“God,” Mona exhaled, fixing her jacket. “I’ve missed this.”

You smiled at her. “I’m sorry about dodging your calls.”

She clicked her tongue, using a hand to push your shoulder. “The next time I’ll just come get you out of your apartment. Bust you out of any prison you’ve made for yourself if that’s what’s needed.”

You snickered at the exaggerated roll of her eyes she gave you. “Okay, mom.”

She continued. “I should probably start charging you a therapist fee.” 

“Fair,” you said, the smile not wiping off your face.

“No but seriously. You look better. A little tired, but better.”

“I’ve been okay,” you reassured her for the tenth time. You shrugged. “Some days I wake up feeling okay. Other days it’s like I’m drowning.”

Mona nodded quietly. “Yeah. That’s grief for you. And yes, you’re allowed to grieve what you had with Jay—it wasn’t just a simple relationship. You guys were together for ages.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line. “It’s not just him, you know?” you murmured. “It’s everything I thought I was done with. Jay, the breakup, moving to a different part of the city. And then with Mingyu… it’s like he brought it all back.”

Mona bumped her shoulder against yours. “And do you feel safer with the new guy?” she paused. “With Wonwoo?”

You blinked and dropped your gaze to the ground.

It had been three nights since you slept with Jeon Wonwoo. And so far, you had only exchanged a few texts—nothing too personal, nor too serious. But you felt at ease whenever he texted goodnight, or whenever he told you he was doing okay.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the knot in your throat tightening more. “I’m afraid to let myself care again. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“And if you do, you’ll fix it,” she shrugged, crossing her arms as she walked beside you. “You always do.”

Eventually, you both stopped when you knew your paths diverted into different routes. “Okay,” Mona sighed. “Are you taking the bus?”

“I could use the walk,” you said, tightening your fist around the strap of your bag.

The streets were damp, but the night sky gave no evident warning that it would start to rain again soon.

Mona nodded. “I’ll see you then,” she said, turning around and motioning a hand goodbye. “You better be with the same guy by the next time I see you!”

You laughed out loud, but couldn’t think of anything to reply to her.

You turned around, deciding to take the long way home.

Something about walking helped you think. You were still warm from the red wine and the laughter shared with your best friend. But walking through the park—seeing young couples walking hand in hand, groups of girls laughing gave you perspective.

The cold air stung your cheeks, making your eyes water. You hugged yourself tightly, closing your denim jacket around you.

You were passing by the park when you heard your name, loud and clear. At first, you thought it wasn’t meant for you, so you kept walking. But how many people could have your name in this city?

Then again, this time louder.

You turned around, following the sound of the voice.

Your stomach immediately dropped. It was Jay.

He looked the same. Despite the buzz cut hair he sported and the change in fashion style, he was still your Jay. The same big dark eyes, the same smile that made his eyes turn into half-moons. He was dressed too well for someone who didn’t like to go out at night.

You stopped walking, feeling glad that you were already hugging your body because you felt like fainting.

Jay slowed to a stop in front of you, catching his breath with a crooked smile. “Wow,” he said, breathlessly. “It’s really you.”

You nodded, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

There was a pause, one where you just stood in front of him while he practically gawked at you.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” he said, scratching a fake itch on his nape. “But you know, life,” he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Right,” you replied, nodding stiffly.

He blinked, like he suddenly remembered something. “I’m getting married,” he blurted.

Your smile didn’t falter—and you were thankful for Mona again, and her wonderful way of predicting things. “I heard,” you said. “Congrats.”

He nodded, his gaze flitting across your face like he was searching for something. Sadness? Regret? “Her name is Lana,” he added. “She’s—she’s different. But she’s great.”

You nodded again, about to tell him that you didn’t want to know. “That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

But he didn’t skip a beat.

“It should’ve been you, though,” he said.

The words punched the air out of your lungs. You almost wanted to register if he’d said another thing and you mistook it for being tipsy.

“What?” you breathed, unable to muster a reaction.

Jay stepped closer, and you almost stepped back, but couldn't trust your body. “I mean, come on. We were great. You know we were. We just—we just weren’t ready.”

You stared at him, blinking and gaping at him like you’d misheard.

“Sometimes I wonder if we gave up too soon. Or if I did.”

Anger flared, quiet but sharp. It made you finally step back. “Listen to yourself—” you gasped. “You’re getting married, Jay.”

“I know,” he laughed nervously. “What a stupid thing to say, right?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were starting to see red. Your chest felt hollow, and you almost wanted to yell at him for not letting you have a moment of peace.

But then he reached for your arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, and you could see the honesty in his eyes. “I just… Seeing you again brought so many memories back.”

You pulled your arm back. “Don’t.”

He blinked, almost confused at your reaction. “What?”

“Don’t tell me it should’ve been me when you already chose someone else,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’re forgetting that it was you who wasn’t ready. Not me.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned and walked with a quick pace. Running away from Jay aimlessly. You almost forgot your way back home, but you had to get distance from him.

You made it three blocks away from the park when your chest finally caved in. You reached into your bag, pulling out your phone. And before you could think, you pressed the call button.

You weren’t considering that he might be busy at work. You weren’t thinking at all.

It should’ve been you. The words kept echoing. Each time was more painful than the last.

And each echo also fueled your anger more.

His phone only rang once.

“Hello?”

You closed your eyes. Your voice was barely there. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?” his voice cut through.

The world spun around you, blurs of streetlights and passing strangers, when you opened your eyes again. You staggered towards the nearest bench, sitting down on it.

You bit your bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut. “I saw him,” you blurted out.

“Who?” he asked, and then a second later he said: “Your ex?” Wonwoo asked quietly.

Mingyu sent him an inquisitive look, which Wonwoo dismissed by shaking his head.

Then it was the broken way you uttered the next words that made his whole world stop. “He told me it should’ve been me he’s marrying.”

“Shit,” he hissed, lowering his face so it wouldn’t raise more questions.

“I thought it was over, I really did,” you said, your voice shaking and cracking mid-sentence: “I was having such a good night. But then… god I just feel so stupid right now.”

“Don’t,” he replied, sounding firm and gentle at the same time. “You’re not.”

You remembered the look on Jay’s face, the way he practically ogled at you.

“Where are you right now?” Wonwoo asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You lifted your head, looking at your surroundings. You told him exactly where you were. But then it dawned on you—Wonwoo was working, and you had pretty much just called him on impulse.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed shakily. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

Wonwoo lowered his face more, hiding completely from Mingyu’s furtive glances. “I’m glad you called me,” he said. In the distance, he could hear a regular calling for him. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll call you later, alright?”

“I didn’t mean to pull you away from work,” you sniffled lightly. “I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo was three hours from closing his shift. He couldn’t get away even if he had the means to. He was in charge of the bar tonight. And the bar was bustling with the usual Ladies’ Night activity, there was no way he could just abort the ship.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll get off in three hours. Do you… do you want to meet?”

You sniffled again. “Yeah,” you said, your voice sounding tiny. “Please.”

“I’ll text you when I’m out. Just—” he cut himself off, trying to think of what to say. But he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. “—get home safe, okay?”

You couldn’t ignore the warmth and the gentleness lacing his tone. It made your heart swell. “I will.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I’ll text you as soon as I’m off.”

“Okay,” you replied, ending the call.

And like a remedy, your heart was a little less frantic.

Three hours.

That’s all you had to wait.

But as you lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t find what to do. You couldn’t even find the tears to cry anymore.

Time passed and you didn’t find the strength to move.

It should’ve been you.

You didn’t know why the words stung, but in a way that it just filled you with an unknown rage. You didn’t care about Jay. What he did or didn’t do with his life wasn’t your problem anymore.

Dodged that bullet, you could hear Mona’s words in your head, like a distant echo guiding you through.

The lights were off, the only thing illuminating your studio apartment was the TV, which was playing music videos at low volume. You were ignoring it, incapable of paying attention to anything else.

Your mind was cluttered with heavy, and dark thoughts. They pulled you away and deeper into the jaws of the monster that was your inner voice at that moment. You felt bad, but not at what happened, but at the thing you were turning into.

You weren’t enough for one man.

Then you were the temporary fix of another.

And now, you were using another man to get by.

No, that isn’t what you were doing, the lighter voice inside you tried to reason.

But no matter how you saw it, you couldn’t get rid of the thing eating at your heart, taking full bites, and chewing on it, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

You felt dirty. Hollow.

You wondered when it would stop. You wondered if there would be a day when you felt like you weren’t scared of the silence and the dark of the night. You wondered if the empty space in your bed wouldn’t matter anymore.

Part of you wanted to rage, to feel angry at Jay for ruining such a good night. Maybe you deserved this, maybe you needed a reminder.

You closed your eyes, trying to come back to the surface, trying to distance yourself from that voice that was luring you into parts you thought you had escaped from.

The fuzzy caress from the effects the red wine gave you had long run off. The impulse to get up and search for the bottles you had forgotten in the kitchen cabinet came about your fingers, like an itch you wanted to scratch.

Eyes completely closed, you felt the gentle ebb and flow of the last minutes of your drunken dizziness leaving your body. You sighed.

You ached to feel something.

In the darkness, you saw him. You didn’t want to, not at first.

You stretched out your arms on your bed, relishing in the gentle caress of your covers against your skin. Turning your face against your pillow, you remembered his hands as he cupped your cheeks, kissing you softly, then deeply.

The night Wonwoo spent in your bed had left an echo in you. You didn’t sport the mark he had left on your neck anymore, but you remembered seeing it every day, wishing he had left more, and all over you.

Then you remembered the little sounds he made when he was inside you—the grunts and gasps he emitted through his soft lips. How he delivered each thrust hard and deep, like he wanted to leave a mark.

You bit your bottom lip, sensing something rousing deep inside you. It was too late to stop now, you were falling. You wondered if he had thought of you again after that night.

A tingling feeling rushed beneath your skin, travelling from your face to the apex between your thighs. In your mind, you were seeing him, feeling him. Feeling his mouth on you, licking your inner thighs, kissing, and giving you soft bites.

You exhaled the nervousness inside you, to no avail. You knew it was too late to stop the feeling from blooming at the pit of your tummy.

Your self-control slipped from your hands at the same time that you pulled your knees up, your hand sneaking beneath the band of your sweatpants.

The first caress of your fingertip against your folds made your whole blood surge. You were so wet that you had already pooled in your panties, making you want to feel embarrassed, but the feeling never came.

You dipped two fingers in your entrance, your mouth parting as you tried to remember the feeling of Wonwoo’s dick slipping inside you. You wondered if the dildo you never used would be up to match the length of his cock.

You opened your eyes, slightly startled by the idea.

You turned over your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand.

There, beneath the faint glow of the TV screen, you saw the bag where you stored your toys—which you remembered were too embarrassed when you initially got them. You opened it, grabbing the dildo that you have perhaps only used just once. You chewed on your bottom lip, looking at it while debating whether to use it or not.

A part of you felt ridiculous—you were just feeling sorry about yourself and now… you’re going to do this?

You pushed the thoughts away when you pressed the button down, bringing it to life with a loud buzzing noise. You didn’t even bother taking your clothes off—just lowered your sweatpants and panties down enough for you to have the space to slide the toy between your pussy lips.

You were dripping wet, smeared all over as the tip of the dildo slid perfectly inside you. Your mouth dropped open, gasping as you pushed the entire thing inside you, feeling its incessant vibrations ripple inside you.

“God,” you sighed, dropping your head back onto your pillow.

You bit your lower lip again, grabbing the toy to pull it back out slowly. The toy wasn’t as big as Wonwoo, but your imagination was running wild now. You remembered how hard and deep he went when he fucked you, how the tip of his cock reached places you didn’t even know existed.

You ached your back, pushing the toy back inside you, searching for that spot in your walls that Wonwoo had found almost effortlessly.

Sometimes when you were alone and just using your fingers, you would get nothing out of the dildo. So you just resorted to teasing your clit and calling it a night.

But now, you let yourself feel it. You allowed your mind to throw memories from the nights when the pleasure was so much that it overwhelmed you. So you saw him, you saw Mingyu—how he used to fuck you with a light grin on his face, knowing that your orgasm would be his.

You lifted your knees, pushing the toy in and out of you, moaning repeatedly. You desperately pushed the button, speeding up the vibrations. The pleasure brimmed instantly, barreling down your spine—but it wasn’t enough.

Then, your mind spun. You were overcome with memories of Wonwoo—the way he breathed against your neck, fitfully, muffling raw moans against your skin. The way he marked you like you were his, the way he pushed inside you, slowly, deeply.

You slowed down, filling your lungs with air as you slipped the toy inside you, enjoying the vibrations massaging your walls. You pushed it back in, slowly, bottoming out on it. In your mind, you saw Wonwoo, you felt him.

You let out a high-pitched cry—it being instantly cut off by a gasp when the orgasm tore through you, rippling down your body. You arched your back, letting the toy pleasure that spot deep inside you, prolong your orgasm.

You were rendered languid, breathless, and taut on your bed. That was until you felt the urge to pull the toy out of you, which you did, turning it off.

Opening your eyes, you stared at the ceiling, contending now with what you saw in your mind’s eye.

You had pleasured yourself thinking about Wonwoo—and Mingyu.  

You sat up slowly, pulling your pants up with shaky hands.

Somewhere on your bed covers your phone buzzed. You reached out for it, unlocking the screen to have your heart jolt at the words, “I’m outside” from Wonwoo.

You rubbed a hand against your face. Shame and guilt spread through your face and neck.

Pushing yourself up, you decided to discard the used vibrator inside your drawers and rushed to grant him access to your building.

You tried fixing your hair, still shaking with the aftermath of what you had done.

And when Wonwoo knocked on your door softly, you knew there was something wrong with you. Because the shame vanished, and was replaced by a joyful excitement to see his face again.

“Hey,” Wonwoo breathed, his eyes outlining your face, your body. “How are you?” he asked.

You were reminded why he asked that, why worry was all over the features of his face. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, swiftly bringing a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Wonwoo gasped nervously, but his hands quickly found your waist. “Wait,” he whispered, but was quickly shut up by another kiss from you.

You pulled him closer, your other hand closing the door behind him. “I was thinking about you,” you confessed abruptly, not caring about how you were coming off.

“You were?” he asked, his tone laced with surprise and amusement. He let out a giggle in your mouth, one that sounded almost boyish. “Hold on—please,” he sighed, his body tensing as you ran your hands down his chest.

You stepped back, reality hitting you hard. “I’m sorry,” you blurted, bringing a hand to cover your mouth.

“No, don’t be,” he mumbled.

Then he paused, assessing you with a quick glance and lowering his backpack on the floor.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, putting two fingers beneath your chin to lift your face to him. “You don’t want to talk first?”

The light touch of his fingers against your face made your skin tingle. You blinked at him slowly, a short sigh leaving your body involuntarily.

“No,” you swallowed, shaking your head.

Wonwoo lifted his eyebrows. “We’ll talk later?” he asked, his voice was soft and gentle with you.

You had no other choice but to nod. “Yes,” you said, realizing that you indeed wanted to confide in him again—but your body was like a storm that needed to be sated by his touch.

Wonwoo directed a look at you for one second, content with what he found in your eyes. He dipped his head, meeting your lips with his in a swift kiss that had your lips creating a smacking noise. You smiled softly on his lips before kissing him again, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What were you thinking?” he asked with a rasp, pressing soft kisses on your lips.

His hand switched from your chin to your waist, gently nudging you back. You understood what he wanted, and you staggered backwards, using your hands around him to bring him with you.

You stumbled upon the round table, gasping softly into his mouth when he broke away from your lips. His hand returned to your nape, his fingers tangling around the strands of your hair, and pulling it to tilt your head back.

“Mmn?” he pressed, his voice a mere murmur in your ear as he kissed your earlobe. “You said you were thinking about me.”

You had to bite your lip down to stop the moan from escaping your mouth. His lips were descending on the curve of your neck, kissing down the spot he had marked three nights ago.

Your hands held onto his shoulders, unable to move or to think. His wet lips were reaching your shoulder, caressing your bare skin with his breath as he breathed in your perfume.

A finger hooked around the strap of your tank top, nudging it aside to press his lips on your skin. He kissed each spot so softly that it left tingles on your skin, making it prickle.

“Baby.” He whispered, his voice barely making out a rasp.

“Yeah,” you swallowed, trying to ignore the effect that word coming from his lips had on you. “I was thinking about the other night, what we did…”

“What we did?” he repeated, sounding amused. He pulled back from your shoulder, letting you see the tiny smile playing on his lips.

You pushed his shoulder playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“We did a lot of things the other night,” he said jokingly, the smile not wiping off his face. “Do you mean how you yelled at me, and berated me for being an asshole to you?”

You clicked your tongue, playing his game. “I didn’t berate you,” you rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo was quick, leaning towards you and capturing your lips in a feathery kiss. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said with a raspy tone, pushing your body against the table with his hands on your waist.

You leaned back, unable to push against his kisses which turned from feathery to demanding. His hand snaked from your waist to your neck, his long fingers circling it gently, without pressing any important parts yet.

He pulled you into a long kiss, one that told you that he’d missed you over the course of days and nights of just sticking to chatting on the phone. He moaned softly as his tongue brushed against yours, the sound driving you a little more insane.

Your hands found his hard chest again, feeling his tight muscles, the light outline of his lean abdomen when you slid your palms down, your fingers reaching the hem of his t-shirt.

Wonwoo pulled back, his hand still circling your neck. His dark eyes found yours, looking at you intently. “Were you thinking of doing this?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip. It was hot and wet from his spit. “Yeah,” you sighed, sounding pathetically sweet.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Were you playing with yourself, baby?” he asked.

A shallow breath left through your nose almost involuntarily. The way he used his words made you inch closer to losing what little self-control you had.

“Yeah,” you parroted, your fingers inching closer to the sliver of skin between his belt and the shirt you were trying to hike up.

He gave you a smirk now, but it was sweet, like he found you cute. Using the hand that was on your neck, he pulled you closer to kiss your lips. “Filthy,” he purred softly, brushing your lips with his.

“Wonwoo,” you yelped when his other hand clutched your waist. It was insane to you that he was making you feel so much with so little.

“Please,” you whispered, swallowing hard. “Take me—stop playing, just…” You let out a whiny sound as he started giggling with amusement, as though he still found you cute in your desperation.

“Just what?” he asked, not quite kissing you, but his lips were still so close to yours.

“Fuck me,” you blurted. “Fuck me hard, I don’t care what you do, just do it,” you pleaded, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

Wonwoo gave you a hard kiss, not pulling away from you as he said: “You have a dirty mouth on you,” he said.

You were finding out just how much you liked hearing him talk to you that way. You practically melted against his touch, kissing him again. His hand was still around your neck, while the other searched for the hem of your tank top.

With a strange boldness, you pulled back, grabbing your tank top and hiking it up your torso. You felt his gaze on you as you stripped the tank top off, revealing your bare chest for him.

His gaze darkened, outlining your body like he’d missed it. He bowed his head, giving you a sweet kiss before his hand clutched your waist, pressing his chest against yours.

You gasped in his mouth, feeling his cold fingers dipping onto your soft skin. “Wonwoo, please,” you whispered, breathing hard against him.

He let out an amused sigh. “If I slip my hand in your panties will I find your pussy wet?” he asked, shocking you with the language he used.

“Yes,” you gasped, nearly angling yourself for him.

Wonwoo laughed, wrinkling his nose. “Dirty girl,” he whispered, leaning to touch your forehead with his. “I was also thinking about you,” he confessed.

Your cheeks grew hot. “What were you thinking about?” you asked, your tone whiny and sweet.

His hand circled from your waist, parking on your tummy. “I want to fuck you in front of a mirror one day,” he drawled softly, nearly purring. The tips of his fingers inched closer to the band of your panties. “I want you to see how pretty you look when I’m inside you.”

You nearly moaned, but he quickly shushed you by pressing his lips against yours. His fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties, brushing against your mound. His lips smacked against yours with each kiss he gave you, sighing softly when you moaned.

He pushed his hand further, finding the mess you made while thinking about him. A raw, deep moan vibrated on his chest. “God, baby, you’re dripping,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you moaned, parting your legs more for him, trying to tell him you wanted his fingers inside you.

But he took his time, gently brushing your entrance with the pads of his middle and ring finger. “I was thinking of how good you felt the other night,” he said, his voice barely audible, a gentle purr. “You don’t even know how good you taste, do you?”

You parted your mouth, choking on your own words. You wanted to say yes, you’ve tasted yourself. But every single word you knew slipped from your mind.

Because Wonwoo decided to push his fingers inside you. No warning, no more teasing. He pushed his fingers until you could feel the palm of his hand against your pussy lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, twisting your fingers around the fabric of his t-shirt. “Fuck,” you breathed. 

“Were you doing it like this?” he asked, barely pulling his fingers out of you to then push them back in.

“No,” you mumbled.

“No?” he pulled his fingers out, sliding them on your clit as you parted your legs more for him.

You leaned back against the table, pressing your palms on it to support yourself. You shook your head, unable to talk.

“Words,” he reminded you pointedly.

“I used a toy,” you blurted, shame tingling beneath your skin.

His fingers swirled around your clit. “Did it make you cum?”

“Yes,” you breathed, loving the sound of those words coming out of him.

“You think a toy can do it better than me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, heart beating fast at your own boldness.

You were clearly challenging him. You omitted the fact that you had to pretend it was him fucking you instead of a toy. And also, how you were comparing sizes, and that your toy wasn’t enough.

But Wonwoo took the bait.

He grabbed you by the arm, effortlessly moving you to your bed. He pushed you with near carelessness, your back hitting the mattress.

You gasped in surprise, looking at him with an alarming need now. You needed him. You were more than ready for him.

“Take your clothes off,” you said.

Wonwoo tilted his head to one side, arching one eyebrow. “Take them off me,” he bit back.

You sat up, hurriedly taking each item of his clothing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt, distracted by the huge bulge beneath his jeans. And when he was finally undressed, you dared to explore his bare skin with your hands.

He was ready for you. Completely hard and leaking precum for you. You raised your gaze to his face. “I—” you gulped.

He smiled knowingly, pinching your chin.

He moved to the bed, hooking his fingers around the band of your sweats and panties, pulling them down. “Lean back, baby,” he muttered, grabbing you by the hips and helping you part your legs for him.

He wasted no time, pushing his tongue between your pussy lips, giving you a generous stroke with his tongue.

“God, Wonwoo, yes,” you sighed, raking your fingers through his messy hair.

He moaned against your pussy, pushing his fingers inside you again, curving them against your walls.

“Fuck,” you groaned, looking at his face as he pushed it against your cunt.

Wonwoo teased your clit with thorough, open-mouthed kisses. His fingers massaging your walls, dragging his knuckles slowly in and out.

“More,” you blurted with a lewd tone.

He dragged his tongue flat on your clit right before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it lightly. He started plunging his fingers in and out of you, curving them against your walls, against that spot you were itching to find.

“God, Wonwoo,” you gasped, bringing a hand to the back of his head as he ate you out just like the other night.

But he was on a mission now. He was thrusting his fingers in and out of you like he was trying to make you reach your high quickly. And that was easy, you were already shaking, your breathing ragged as you inched closer and closer.

“Oh, fuck, Wonwoo—” you gasped, aware of the lewd sounds coming out from the rapid thrusting of his fingers. But there was another issue—and you knew you were closer to your orgasm, but it felt different. Urgent, and so wet. “Fuck, fuck, stop.”

He detached his mouth from your pussy, pulling out his fingers and looking up at you.

“Wait,” you said, panting embarrassingly loudly. You smiled despite yourself.

Wonwoo sighed amusedly. “Too much?”

You nodded, still breathless. “Please, fuck me,” you sobbed, not caring how pathetic you sounded. “I need you.”

Before he gave you what you wanted, he took his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean off your arousal. You followed him with your gaze as he hovered on top of your body, arms on each side of your head to give you a kiss. You muffled a moan in his mouth, feeling his tongue brushing yours, making you taste yourself. 

The act was so lewd that you felt a rush tingling down your spine. 

Then got to his knees, positioning his hips between your legs in an upright position. “Where is it?” he asked.

You blinked at him dumbly, but understood after a second. “In my drawer,” you replied, and then you added: “Why?”

He shrugged slightly, reaching to open your drawer. “You said this thing can fuck you better than I can,” he said with ease, examining the dildo you had used, still slick with your mess.

But he pulled out another toy—one you used more frequently because you deemed it to be more effective than the dildo. It was a rose toy. He glanced your way, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You were about to take the toy from his grasp, but he was faster—trapping your wrists with one of his, pinning them above your head.

“Keep them there,” he mumbled, leaning back on his upright position.

Then something happened inside you. You forgot about misbehaving, about taunting him. The darkened look on his face was all you needed to know that you were about to get what you wanted.

He grabbed his cock with one hand, rolling it a few times to smear the precum all over its head. Then, his gaze fell on your body, on your pussy all dripping with your arousal and pink with overstimulation.

He bit down his bottom lip, guiding the tip of his cock down your folds, playing with you. “Wonwoo,” you called with an annoyingly sweet tone. “Stop teasing me and just fuck me already.”

“Grab the railings,” he motioned with the tip of his nose at your headboard. You did what he asked, just as you felt his bulbous cockhead notching at your entrance.

And with no more teasing, no warning at all, he pushed inside you. All in one go, he bottomed out with a pleased sigh.

You let out a mewling sound, closing your eyes tightly to enjoy the sting his cock gave you as it stretched your walls. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you gasped, trying to urge him to start moving.

But then, he turned the toy on, guiding the centre of it to your swollen clit. The relentless vibrations overwhelmed you instantly. You cried out, feeling another orgasm surge inside you, consuming you quicker than all the other orgasms you’ve had.

Wonwoo started moving his cock inside you with slow, deep thrusts. Still biting his lip, his hair dishevelled, looking at you like he still had something to prove. Maybe because he did—and it was entirely your fault that he’d taken on this challenge.

You moved one hand to take the toy from his grasp, but he slapped it away. “Hands where I left them,” he said.

“It’s too much,” you whined, attempting to reach for his hand once more. “Wonwoo, I just need you.”

“Mmn?” he raised his gaze to your face. “What was that, baby?” he asked with a gentler tone.

“I just need you,” you repeated breathlessly, squeezing your eyes shut to let your tears go. “No toys. Just your cock, just—just…”

You arched your back, writhing on your bed as another orgasm rippled through you, taking over your ability to think and speak. You came so hard that you weren’t able to contain yourself, crying and panting pathetically.

“Oh, baby, look at yourself,” Wonwoo sighed, sounding amused. “You’re wetting the bed.”

“Please, please, please,” you gasped, ignoring the shame boiling in your blood. You pressed the side of your face on your pillow, realizing that it was wet with tears.

“Please, what?”

“Just you,” you mumbled dazedly, blinking at him. “I just need you.”

Wonwoo turned the vibrator off, tossing it aside and grabbing your hips with his hands. He plunged into you, hard and deep, like he was holding himself back earlier. His thrusts were so full, so calculated that they made you forget about the overstimulation you got from the toy.

“God, fuck,” you writhed, grabbing onto the railings again, holding onto them as pleasure brimmed inside you.

“Good girl,” Wonwoo drawled lazily, moving inside you with the same deep and thorough thrusts you tried to emulate with your toy.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him buried inside you—massaging your walls, reaching so deep you felt like cumming again soon. “God, that feels good,” you mewled.

Wonwoo sighed, and you opened your eyes to see his light smile. It did something to you—to see him smiling as he fucked you hard and deep. He looked so hot, his hair was dishevelled, and his glasses were slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah? Better than that toy?” he sighed with a mocking smile, pushing his cock inside your tight cunt.

You nodded dumbly. “So much better,” you admitted. And it was true—nothing could compare to the feeling of having him inside you. Raw, hard, and deep.

Wonwoo gave you a lazy smile, moving his hand to grip your neck lightly. He didn’t press hard, just circled his fingers around your bare neck, as though he just wanted to see how you looked with his hand around you.

And you wondered what you would look like. Wholly naked, legs spread for him, his cock disappearing inside you, tits bouncing gently each time he pushed his hips against you.

He slipped his hand from your neck slightly, brushing his thumb against your lips. “Open up,” he whispered.

You obeyed, parting your lips to suck on his thumb. You rolled your tongue around his thumb, simulating what you wanted to do to his cock, looking straight into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he blinked, swallowing back a moan. He pulled his thumb from your mouth, guiding it between your legs, where he started rubbing slow circles against your swollen and very sensitive clit.

You flinched, overstimulated. “Wonwoo,” you mewled, closing your eyes. “Yes, please, please. Don’t stop.”

And he complied, like his pleasure was not important. He kept his thrusts deep, steady, flicking your clit expertly. You moaned lewdly, enjoying the sweet waves building inside you—readying for another orgasm.

“Fuck, Wonwoo,” you whined.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbled with a raspy tone. “Cum for me. Give me one more.”

“Wonwoo, fuck,” you sighed, your body tightened, your sanity slipping away. “Please, babe, don’t stop… don’t stop.”

Your jaw went slack, breath catching on your throat with a high-pitch cry as sweet pleasure bloomed inside your body, stretching to every limb, dancing beneath your skin.

Wonwoo moaned, the sound raw and raspy coming from his chest. But you found that he had liked the sound of your voice calling him babe, his light smile told you that much.

He tilted his head back, sighing out in pleasure. “Baby, I’m close,” he purred, swallowing hard.

You nodded to him. “Cum inside me,” you told him. 

Wonwoo didn’t remove his gaze from yours, his eyes peering into your soul as he moved his body against yours. A deep moan came out of him, his chapped lips parting softly as he spilled himself inside you. 

You were both panting, looking at each other like there was something left unsaid. It was obvious, though, and neither of you needed to speak out. 

There was something flowing in the air between you. Electrifying, alluring. You knew Wonwoo knew it too. 

You liked Wonwoo. More than you were allowing yourself to admit. 

“Hey,” he sighed, his chest still rising and falling steadily. 

“Hey,” you replied softly. 

“Okay?” He arched his eyebrows.

You nodded. “Amazing,” you replied with a lazy smile.

He returned the smile. “You were so good, babygirl,” he hummed, squeezing your hip gently.

“Hmm,” you hummed sweetly, palming his hand on your hip. “Take a shower with me, yeah?” 

He nodded, looking at your hand on top of his. “Yeah,” he said. “And then we talk?” 

“We talk,” you agreed.

“What do you usually do to feel better?” Wonwoo asked after stepping out of the shower, using the towel you’d lent him to dry his hair, messily rubbing it against his head.

He was wearing only his boxers, his messy hair dripping wet. He looked like a dream, making it hard for you to concentrate.

You took a long moment to think. “I don’t know,” you admitted with a shrug. “I could say a bunch of different things, but right now I just want to relax. Maybe talking about it will help.”

You opened your drawer, aware that Wonwoo was watching you intently as you spoke.

You pulled out a couple of face masks and two bandanas—one with cat ears, the other with bear ears—and handed him one without a word.

Wonwoo smiled softly, taking the bandana. He looked at it for a long moment before putting it on.

You laughed, reaching out to adjust the cat ears on his head. “There,” you whispered, your eyes drifting back to his face.

“So this is what we’re doing?” he asked, picking up one of the face masks. “Skincare and talking?”

“Yep,” you replied, nodding primly. “And maybe we’ll cuddle later, if I start crying.” You laughed at yourself.

“That sounds like a good plan,” he said.

“Crying sounds good to you?”

Wonwoo opened the package with his long fingers, unfolding the mask carefully. “I mean, it releases toxins, cleans and lubricates the eyes—at least it does for me. Plus, you get a kick of endorphins afterward. Overall, it’s good. Regulates—”

“Wonwoo.” You deadpanned.

“What?” he asked, lifting his face. “Am I talking too much?”

You smiled, your stomach flipping. “You’re cute,” you sighed.

Wonwoo smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” you giggled.

“But seriously, I think it’s better to cry it out.”

“It makes my face puffy,” you said, unfolding your mask.

“So what? You’re still pretty,” he murmured, still struggling with his.

Something fluttered in your chest. “Here, let me,” you said, taking the mask from him and unfolding it, then placing it gently over his face.

His eyes stayed on you. He rested a hand on your hip—almost unconsciously, like he couldn’t keep from touching you. As though he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“What?” you asked, sensing his gaze.

“I can’t see,” he laughed. “I need my glasses.”

“Oh,” you chuckled. “You could wear them over the mask.”

He pushed his glasses into place, grinning faintly. 

You turned to your bed, stopping before it. “Oh,” you uttered, seeing the wet spot on the side of the bed you always used.

“We’ll have to lay on the other side,” Wonwoo said with an ease that made you think this was almost inconsequential to him. 

“I could change the covers,” you said, shrugging lightly. 

Wonwoo palmed your butt lightly over your clothes. “Or we could rest, baby,” he said gently. 

“Yeah…” you sighed, realizing that you were too tired to change the covers. 

You lay back against the pillows, reaching for him as he followed you onto the bed.

Wonwoo sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “You okay?” he asked.

You blinked. “I feel like a mess,” you whispered. “Like I’m free-falling.”

“You’re allowed to feel like that,” he said, calm and steady. “You’re someone who got hurt. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

He shrugged. “Because you deserve it.”

You didn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice, but part of you couldn’t fully believe it.

“I know I said I was okay earlier,” you murmured. “But I wasn’t. I’m still not.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly, reaching for the hand resting on his stomach.

You watched as his fingers played with yours, slow and careful. “I really thought I was doing okay,” you said, voice cracking. “But I realize now that I’m not.”

“You’re still healing,” he murmured. Then, after a beat: “And your ex was an asshole. No one could’ve predicted he’d say something like that.”

You closed your eyes. “He is an asshole,” you agreed. “It’s a good thing I broke up with him. Dodged a bullet.”

Wonwoo hummed, amusement blooming in his chest.

You lay in the peaceful moment for a while, listening to the faint sounds coming from the streets outside. His hand was still holding yours, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“Do you wish things had happened differently? Between us.”

You felt him turn slightly so he could look at you. And when you moved your head on his chest, you found his gaze on you. Steady, thoughtful. “Sometimes,” he conceded. “But I don’t know if we would’ve ended up here if they hadn’t happened this way.”

You nodded, your gaze falling to his chest. “I just keep thinking… how things started, everything leading up to here…” you said faintly. “I don’t want to mess this up more because of how we started this.”

His thumb brushed gently against your knuckles. “You’re overthinking it, baby,” he whispered. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

The gentleness in his voice made your throat tighten. He was giving you the assurance that your soul craved to hear.

You wanted to say something, anything to match the certainty in his voice. But you couldn’t find the words.

You rested your head on his chest again, letting the quiet pulses of his heartbeat reach your ears, filling the silence.

For a while, neither of you spoke. And you continued to search for words to say.

From the beginning, Wonwoo had shown you that he wanted this. That he was choosing you for you. Not because of the things you had to offer, not for your body, or your pain.

You felt seen.

“You make things sound easy,” you mumbled finally, your voice sounding tiny.

Wonwoo let out a soft breath, and you could picture the smile that came with the sound. “I know it’s not easy. I’m just trying to meet you where you are.”  

“And where is that, exactly?”

“Somewhere between healing and trying to feel something again,” he answered with a softer tone.

That made you smile. “Sounds about right,” you replied.

Wonwoo shifted slightly, lifting his phone to glance at the screen. “How long are we supposed to have this?” he asked.

Your mind was so clouded that you'd forgotten about the mask completely. “Fifteen minutes.”

“It’s been twenty minutes already,” he said with a light laugh.

“I guess we should take them off,” you replied in kind.

You both sat up slowly, facing him as you peeled the mask from your faces. Wonwoo did the same, his fingers removing his glasses first.

You looked at him, your heart squeezing so hard it tore a giggle from you. “Hold on. You have a little piece stuck to your chin.”

He blinked. “Where?” he asked, lifting his fingers to his face.

“Here,” you whispered, reaching out. Your fingers brushed his skin as you carefully plucked the piece of paper off.

You didn’t pull your hand away, letting it linger. Your eyes met his, and the feeling consuming your heart just intensified, making it beat louder.

You blinked dumbly, moving away from him. In the bathroom again, you threw the facemasks in the bin, ignoring the mirror. You knew what you’d find in your reflection, because you could feel it—the tingling heat on your cheeks, the breathless, dreamy feeling.

When you came back to your bed, Wonwoo was still sitting there, now wearing his glasses. He raised his face, pressing his lips into a smile.

“Wanna cuddle?” you asked, the words flying out of your mouth.

He blinked slowly, the smile stretching on his full lips. “Sure,” he mumbled, laying back on the pillows. You leaned back into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. Wonwoo wrapped an arm around you again.

The silence came again. But this time you weren’t scared of it, you didn’t feel like running away. You closed your eyes, snuggling closer to his chest.

Wonwoo brought a hand to your head, his fingers going through the strands of your hair with gentle motions. It felt as though he were putting your concerns to rest, calming the thoughts running in circles in your mind.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you did this soundly, nestling in Wonwoo’s safe embrace.

The sound of rain tapping lightly against your windows woke you up. You realized after a beat that you had woken up before your alarm went off.

The soft weight of Wonwoo’s arm around your waist made you keep still. He was still snuggled close to you, his chest pressed to your back. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the bleak light filling the room.

You must’ve woken him up, because he stirred behind you. He let out a soft hum, his nose brushing against your hair. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” you hummed.

You turned over in his embrace, facing his chest now. You snuggled against his bare skin, using a hand to feel the warmth coming from him.

“Why are you awake?” you whispered.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled. “Was thinking about where to go to grab breakfast,” he mumbled happily.

You giggled against his chest, circling an arm to hug him too. “What are your options?”

“I don’t have many,” he admitted with a lazy tone, as though he were falling back asleep. “But I know a place I think you’ll like.”

You lifted your head slightly, finding his face. He had his eyes closed, half of his face buried on the pillow. He peeled one open, a smile stretching on his lips when he saw you.

“You drooled in your sleep,” he said as though he’d just remembered it, smiling softly at the memory.

“Stop. No I didn’t,” you sighed, bringing a hand to search your face.

“Yes, you did,” he teased. “Gross,” he said.

“Shut up, Jeon Wonwoo,” you pushed his chest.

But he didn’t even budge. He let out a louder laugh at your feeble attempt. “Make me,” he said.

You planted a hard kiss on his lips. “That’ll do it,” you sighed.

Wonwoo paused, processing what you’d done. He clicked his tongue, grabbing your head. “Come here, you,” he muttered, pressing his lips against yours again, giving you a fuller kiss.

You giggled into his mouth, melting into him completely. He slipped his hand from your cheek to your neck, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. “Let’s go grab breakfast?” he whispered.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Wonwoo?” you teased, your eyes fluttering close as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Yes. I am,” he replied without letting another second pass.

Your heart fluttered, robbing your ability to speak. “Okay,” you breathed. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he replied in kind, and you realized then, he’d gotten nervous.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was the second time you’d woken up with Wonwoo in your bed. And yet, he was nervous about asking you out.

“You’re too cute,” you whispered.

He smiled, notching the tip of his nose against yours. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” you said.

And Wonwoo was more than happy to oblige.

Mingyu parked a block away from your apartment, letting out a big sigh as he turned the engine off. The entire ride over, he had rehearsed in his mind everything he wanted to tell you. He did this, while knowing that by the time he got to look at your face, he would forget his words.

He remembered the last night he spent at your apartment. His guts twisted when he remembered that look on your face when you opened the door for him. You looked so happy to see him.  

Will you look at him the same way?

The nerves were truly eating him alive. But beneath all that, there was something else brewing—something pulling him back. Heavier than guilt and more painful than pride. It was regret, telling him to turn back around.

But he couldn’t live a day longer missing you.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, exhaling as his fingers raked his long hair back.

“Just do it, Mingyu,” he told himself aloud, sitting alone in Wonwoo’s car. “All you gotta do is ring the buzzer. Talk to her.”

And with that, he climbed out of the car, crossing the street with a pounding heart that could be heard throughout the whole block.

The sky had cleared for once. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, leaving a cold air that felt crisp on his face. He hissed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he approached your building.

But then he stopped.

You were there. Just outside your apartment building, standing under the awning of the entrance.

But you weren’t alone.

There was a man beside you—taller than you, leaning too close for Mingyu’s liking. His hand brushed your back as you laughed at something he said, your face tilting upward.

Mingyu’s stomach dropped.

Everything happened too fast.

The proximity wasn’t enough for him to discern who the guy was. He was covered, wearing the cap of his hoodie over his head. But that didn’t matter. All he could see was how you looked at the guy.

Mingyu subconsciously took a couple of steps forward, staggering almost. But then he stopped cold, watching the scene happening before him like an outsider.

It was your smile, the distant sound of your laughter, that had stunned him, causing a deep blow to his chest. You didn’t look like the last time he saw you, crying at the bleachers. You looked like someone who had already moved on.

Mingyu couldn’t move. He couldn’t call your name. Just watched as you and the other guy walked slowly down the sidewalk, disappearing down the next corner. Together.

His chest felt hollow.

The words he had memorized were rendered useless, forgotten in the back of his mind. Without thinking, he turned around and walked back to the car.

He was too late.

But despite that, something gnawed at his soul. Something sticky, ugly. It took over him quickly, like fire burning down an entire forest. She’s mine, no one else’s. He thought, aware how crazy his inner voice sounded. But he didn’t care. He was beginning to see red.

She’s mine.

Mine. 

☾ author's note: hello, hello! ᨐฅ

this fic journey has ben craaaaaazy!! i was astounded by the amount of you guys that left comments and came to my ask box to share your opinions!! it really warmed up my heart 🥺🩵

it is the first time that one of my series is received like this, i mean that it has a lot of you sharing their opinions and theorizing in the comments section. some of you even had theories that are very close to where the story is going in the future and i was like 👁️👄👁️ truly amazing. wow. thank you!!

you know the drill, if you have something to say, comment it, reblog, give it a like, and my ask box is always open!! 🩵🩵🩵

toodles

☆ STAY TUNED FOR PART VII! ☆ | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME COFFEE? ♡

© TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[wildmrmix]

12:30 I’m here to spread some Curly Johnny Ponyboy friendship based on what I used to do with old friends.

They’re all pretty chill with affection, especially with those they’re comfortable with. So sometimes they’ll go down to the lot and Ponyboy will lean against Johnny, and Curly will just… stand there before eventually sitting on Pb’s other side and very slowly start to lean against him as well (he will deny purposefully initiating any kind of affection till his last breath). And then they all just talk absolute trash about people. 3 boys alone for hours what will they do: make fun of people. Sometimes it’s strangers, sometimes it’s people from their school, sometimes it’s other buddies; nobody’s safe.

Sometimes Curly’ll come by the lot just to see if Ponyboy’s there yet, though he doesn’t just ditch if it’s only Johnny. I mean, he did, but then it got kind of weird to interact with the guy you very obviously ignored a handful of times. Those two are awkward as hell without Ponyboy being their middle ground in conversations, but they become actually acquainted with the other through these accidental lot-meetups. At least, as much as you can with how quiet Johnny is

On weekends, sometimes they try to push the curfew and go out to places like the Dingo, or the park, or sometimes they simply walk around for a while after dark. They make fun of and poke at and tease each other, sometimes giving out stupid dares just for laughs. And sometimes they will all just sit and smoke, ranting about their problems not because they’re inherently overwhelming at the moment, but because the others will listen.

During lunch periods, if Curly’s set on the idea enough, he’ll get Ponyboy and Johnny to ditch for a bit and they go off behind the school building to waste the period away. One time they walked off and found a storage/ water tank some ways away and they climbed onto it. Curly lost a ring on it and they ended up spending the rest of their time there trying and failing to find and grab it.

[retrosabers]

𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3

[elssero]

pros and cons of my faves being your roommate!

includes- bakugo, kirishima, denki, sero, shinso, izuku, shigaraki and monoma ! (college au makes most sense)

-inspired by @tokeposts post about shinso being a bad roommate ily toke.

bakugo is very clean, he tidies up after himself very well, as in you’ll hardly find even a trace of him living in your shared areas. he’s also an amazing cook, and while he won’t make meals specifically for you in the beginning, if he has leftovers i’d imagine he may leave tupperware with the note ‘leftovers, help yourself.’

however, i think he’s loud. and in the most inconvenient times. its 8am and he’s blasting music while he works out and ur suffering from a horribleee hangover, he does not care.

i would imagine it takes him awhile to open up to you, but when he eventually does he would much rather cook or go to the gym with you compared to watching a movie on the couch. overall a 8/10 roommate because i cannot forgive the early morning wake ups.

kirishima is an absolute sweetheart, introduces himself straight away and attempts to spend time with you immediately. he’s a great conversationalist and i think he would be amazing at making you feel safe and comfortable.

however, i think he’s clumsy. like your replacing your plates once a month type clumsy. he doesn’t mean it! and he always (tries) to clean up after himself! maybe it’s also that he doesn’t quite know his own strength, shattering glass that takes 20 minutes to clean up with just his grip.

he opens up immediately though, offers to walk you to class (even when he doesn’t have one himself sometimes, but you don’t need to know that.) i think he would also introduce you to his friends too, but he always asks very politely before he invited anyone over!

denki is a horrible roommate. he’s messy and forgetful and he can’t cook and god forbid you ask him to do some laundry for you, he’s completely and utterly hopeless.

it’s a shame that he’s so funny. like an absolute joy to be around. he’s interested in you immediately (in more ways than one) and he takes every opportunity to be around you. hes also super good at finding cheep local places for food and drinks etc, always begging to take you to this new restaurant he’s been dying to try.

‘hey so i burnt our dinner, how about i order us takeout and we watch a movie instead?’ -and so becomes your little thursday night tradition of trying all the takeout places that’ll deliver to your place and watching cringy movies to go along with it. it’s adorable really. he SHOULD be like a 2/10 but he’s so charming it makes it hard.

sero is the chillest guy ever, i believe he was brung up with proper manners and he knows how to take care of himself, it’s a very favour for favour situation. he cooks and you do dishes, you do laundry and he takes out the trash, it’s very domestic from the get go.

however, i think he has a problem with just inviting people over. getting home from a longgg lecture and suddenly there’s three boys in your house that you’ve never met and your subjected to a round of questioning when all you want to do is go to bed. sometimes it feels as though he always has company.

he’d realise pretty fast that it was irritating you though, suddenly your getting messages ‘when will you be home so i can kick denki out so we can hang out.’ it’s sweet. i believe he would be more of a series guy than the movie type. don’t you dare watch an episode without him.

shinso is respectful, he never touches any of your stuff, never gets in your way or makes you uncomfortable, you can just go about your life while having him as your roommate.

but you never see him. you hear him, sometimes at all hours of the night when he’s up finishing a project or showering at 4am when you have a lecture at 8. i think he’s also a procrastinator, you ask him to take out the trash at 7.30 before you leave and you get back at 3 and the trash still isn’t taken out.

sometimes you wake up to a delivery from your favorite breakfast spot on the counter though, so that makes up for it.

izuku is so kind, while he’s a little hopeless at first, he’s very eager to learn. you do have to teach him how to do the laundry and how to use the stove, but he gets it after a few tries. once you begin splitting up the household tasks, things get alot easier. especially when you keep finding your favourite snacks in the fridge.

he can sometimes be overbearing, he won’t go as far as to sneak into your room to try and see what type of stuff your into but he might sneak a peak when you leave ur room.

hugeeee on studying together! brings home ur favorite coffee during finals season and you guys spend hours at the table working at your respective subjects, it’s a fun time.

shigaraki is quiet, most of the time, minus the rare scream at his pc. he doesn’t cook- and he sure as hell doesn’t clean, but he also doesn’t really make any mess, barely leaves his room and orders take out for every meal so he’s not really causing much harm.

it’s definitely you that has to make the move to get to know him. he could go months without speaking to you and everything would be fine for him, until you have enough of course.

once he realised that your okay to hang around with you guys start gaming together, he introduces you to his friends over vc and he gets teased relentlessly for taking forever to become your friend. he starts ordering take out for two.

monoma is the fucking worst, absolutely helpless, huge rich kid energy, i’d even go as far to say he genuinely offers to pay you to do his half of the household chores. if you refuse he’ll probably mope around for a few days before he begrudgingly asks you how to use the washing machine, it’s a grilling few weeks, but you guys get over it.

he’s a hugeee gossiper, knows everything about everyone, you find out things about people that you don’t even know, he can piont to have the people on your walk to campus and tell you a story about them. absolute shit stirrer.

offers to take you to this super nice restaurant free of charge… makes up for the weeks you spend literally teaching him to be an adult… no other reason… it’s literally only to make things even… definitely not a date….

[safination]

The Only Temptation

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. Heats! Ruts! Alastor and Ruts! dual POV, Handjob, dirty talking, phone handjob, TLDR: Alastor's rut is being drawn out by a doe who is definitely not you, but weirdly enough or not so weirdly enough, he only seems to craves you. AN: Hello! I haven't posted in a while, but pshhh we'll just ignore that. Since I'm turning the big 22, this fic will also be 2/2. This is just 1/2 (Truthfully, I just ran out of time and decided to cut this into 2 parts.) Also, will you look at that! My first smut! Handjobs should count as smut right? And here I thought my religious ass would never make one of these. Oh, well. It goes without saying but I'm going to say it anyway: MINORS DNI

There’s a doe in the Hazbin Hotel.

You bumped into her as you were making your way to Alastor’s radio tower. There would be more of these types of interactions if you actively lived in the hotel like you want, but Alastor refuses to allow you to stay for too long with the excuse of it being safer to hide you away at home while he stays here.

There are ears on the top of this doe’s head. It reminds you of Alastor. They’re a bit cute – more than, ‘a bit cute’ if you were being honest. Downright adorable if you were really being honest. Spots trails over her shoulders and continue into her clothes.

What an itty-bitty doe. So ready to be devoured! (Part of you wonders if Alastor would appreciate the taste of a doe’s flesh. A surprise gift, maybe?)

You’ve never seen a doe in Hell before, but she’s not really important to you right now. So, you throw her to the back of your mind and make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

All of Alastor’s senses are heightened because of that damn doe. It’s quite a predicament as rut season nears, and the pheromones being released place him in quite the difficult spot.

It gets worse when his ears catch upon a slight knock and . . . and the scent of you.

Alastor can’t describe what prickles his nose, but it’s the scent of morning coffee shared through one mug. He takes a deeper whiff and it becomes the scent of soft music playing through the radio as you dance around the room.

It seems that doe has unlocked something in him. The scent of you has never tasted like that until now. It brings out a hunger for you that goes deeper than normal.

The smell intensifies when the door clicks open, and that hunger strikes even deeper. It travels through the air, settling itself in his stomach. Alastor pierces the tips of his claws into his skin before he could fully lose himself.

It becomes worse . . . better? . . . when you remove your coat, hanging it on the rack. The scent becomes so strong that he’s enchanted for more than a second. Actually, it’s so heavenly to his senses that blood pools between his legs and settles into his thighs.

Alastor inches closer to the desk, hiding the way his cock has pitched a tent from just the scent of you. He pretends to busy himself with the buttons on the panel, even when the broadcast ended five-minutes ago.

You swat his hand away, and sit on the table. There’s deliberate care in the way you prop yourself, careful not to hit any of the knobs.

A small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi . . .” Alastor lays his head on your thighs, shighing into their plumpness as he swipes his thumb on your skin. Everything about you sends high frequency pitches into his skin. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Well, my dearest,” you begin, massaging the base of his antlers, “the purpose of a surprise if for it to be unsuspecting.”

The witty response to your statement dies in his throat. A groan of relief replaces it as you continue to massage his antlers. That annoying itch lessens when you press on the base just a little firmer.

That fact that it feels good to have his antlers scratched can only mean one thing . . .

“You’re nearing your rut,” you say, plain and simple, as if his unnoticed erection already isn’t an indicator. “Hmmm, it seems I picked a good time to drop by.”

Alastor leans his cheek a little bit deeper into your thighs. “It’s still too early.”

“Does it have to do something with that little doe I spotted earlier?”

Alastor isn’t getting used to your scent.

Usually, strong scents should fade into the background after some time. Usually. Alastor is constantly and painfully aware of the scent of heaven on your skin.

Everything about you is driving him up the wall. So much so, the Alastor stays limp in your hold, afraid that shifting will cause his already sensitive erection to brush against you.

“What a silly thought,” he says, even as his cock throbs uncomfortably in his pants. Alastor’s never been this hard before. That heavenly scent means he’ll have to send you away soon if his rut is hitting a little early.

How has he never noticed how good you smell?

“There’s no reason you have to go through this alone.” You pull on the ends of his hair. “Maybe there’s a reason why it takes you a month to calm down. Wouldn’t getting your satisfaction speed things along?”

“That’s out of the question.”

“You won’t know if we don’t try,” you say, frowning a little. “We can at least try, dearest. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Alastor allows himself to dream about it. It would be nice to have you to himself for a month, if his erection is an indicator. Your very presence is already causing a wet patch of pre-cum to spread. He’s so painfully hard that he can feel the beat of blood going through his veins.

Alastor would take you, hiding you at home. It’s purposely far from the prying eyes of the bustling city. There he would spend the next month burying himself into you. The hunger that gnaws on his belly will be satiated with the taste of the combined fluids dripping down your cunt.

No, that wouldn’t do. That would just be a waste of perfectly good cum. It needs to stay inside you if he’s going to defy a Sinner’s biology. Alastor would need to take every drop, and make sure it’s not wasted. He would fill you up until a large bulge would—

What is he thinking about?

Giving in to his instincts would do you more harm than good. You weren’t a doe, and that means your body isn’t meant to handle his rut.

“It’s not safe for you to be at the hotel at the moment.” Alastor is playing a dangerous game – one where Heaven has set its hat into the ring.

There’s a reason why he’s hidden the house from prying eyes. It’s much safer . . . or at least that’s the reason he’s giving you.

A small frown. “Then we can hide away at home.”

“I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.” Alastor nuzzles into your thigh. “We have the same argument every season.”

“I see,” you say, and that’s a proper frown on your lips now. “I won’t be seeing you for some time then.”

“Now, now. Don’t frown, cher.” Alastor pushes your lips up into a bright smile. “You look absolutely ravishing in one of these.”

There’s a small smile that grows on your face.

You tilt his chin, and press a kiss on the edge of his smile. Alastor crosses his legs, digging his claws into them to try and regain any semblance of control.

“I think I would almost miss you, my dearest,” you tell him, showing off that cheeky, little smile. “It’s bound to get incredibly dull around here. It always does when you’re not around.”

Alastor barks out a laugh, pulling your face into his hold to stare into you. Just a little longer. That’s all he needs. “Flirting? That’s certainly a new tactic,” he says, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I think I would miss you as well, cher.”

Alastor pulls off his bowtie in one swift motion, throwing it off somewhere irrelevant. It’s been hours, yet he’s still so painfully hard. It forced him to hide away in his room the moment you left. Changing into looser clothing helps, but every brush of his cock sends tingles up his spine.

His shadow crawls up the wall with a scowl. The thing zooms around, seemingly in a mood as foul as his. It disappears under the cracks of the door, and Alastor doesn’t have enough blood circulating through his brain to question where it went.

Maybe, the blood would be passing through his brain if it wasn’t pooling in his throbbing erection. It’s been throbbing all day long.

Damn that does.

Alastor should kill her; end the madness she’s bringing. If the hormones from her heat stop, then his rut won’t start for another few days, or maybe even a week if he’s lucky.

The delay of his rut means the delay of his departure. Alastor can keep you by his side for a moment longer. Just a little longer until the inevitable.

You can be by his side. You can stay with him. You can . . . you . . . you!

The scent of you invades his nose. It hits harder the more he inhales. But you shouldn’t be here. Alastor sent you away. He made sure you exited those hotel doors, and he kept his eyes on the horizon until he could no longer see you and then a little longer after that.

His shadow slithers back into the room, something in its hands. Alastor lifts his head from the pool of pillows and . . . and it’s your coat.

The scent of you lingers on it.

“Get that thing away from me,” he hisses even as his cock twitches against his underwear. “Go burn it in the fireplace.”

The shadow slithers closer, dropping the coat Alastor just demanded to be burnt. It’s never defied one of his orders before.

His shadow pushes it closer to his face, and all anger fizzles at his throat when the smell of you breaches his nose. It drives him crazy, but it brings some sort or soothing effect as well.

Did you forget it here?

Or did you leave this for him?

Alastor buries his face into it, even when he knows he should return the thing. Alastor isn’t a dense Sinner. He’s well aware of what will happen if he allows something like this to stay . . . but what if you really did leave it for him?

The cloth of his pajama chafes against his skin. It’s too warm, and the scent of your coat is a splash of gasoline in an already burning sea of flames.

The image of holding you plagues his mind. Despite the burning in his skin, Alastor wouldn’t care as long as it came from you. Burning would feel heavenly as long as it was you who held the other end of that matchstick.

The echo of your laughter bounces in his mind, and blood shoots straight down, fueling his erection even more. The cloth from his underwear brushes against it, and a tiny groan escapes him as it goes over the sensitive head.

Alastor’s had enough. It’s adding fuel to his already foul mood. He shreds his clothes off, tearing it with his claws. He lies in a pool of scrapped fabric, his dick springing forth.

The shadow scoots your coat just a little bit closer. Alastor inhales the scent, burying himself into it. It’s a fuel to an already burning flame, but it’s coming from you. So, how bad can it really be?

He shifts his legs, and the way his cock rubs against the silk sheets tears coaxes a moan from his throat. It’s debauchery. It’s sinful . . . but it feels too good. Wet patches of pre-cum stains his sheets.

Alastor trails his palms lower, running them through his stomach until he’s fisted his cock. He pumps his shaft through his fist, trying to find relief.

It’s not . . . It’s not working?

He searches his mind, trying to remember how your fingers would work him into his release.

How tight would you squeeze him?

Where would you start? Alastor should remember that much, considering it was your hand pumping his cock.

Right . . . The head.

Alastor rubs his sensitive head, swirling it around like you do, and fuck! It’s just a shitload of nothing.

His fingers are too rough. You know how to build him into cumming, but you’re not here right now. Haphazardly fisting his cock isn’t going to bring him anywhere.

The temptation to give up is there, but he’s been erect all day. Alastor needs to end this tonight.

Alastor massages the tip once more, but with more purpose, just like you do. A moan releases into the air. If he shuts off all senses, he can pretend that it’s your hand that’s—

His shadow holds up a ringing, landline phone.

Alastor looks at it, then at the hand still fisted around his cock, and the back at his shadow.

The shadow looks back at him.

Alastor squeezes himself, ignoring the shadow as he tries to build that same mood. “Throw it away.”

His shadow has a look on its face, and pushes the thing closer. Alastor’s about to destroy it himself when he realizes there’s only one Sinner who has the number to this landline – You.

Alastor grabs the receiver, ignoring the fact that he’s very naked, lying on a bed that’s stained with his pre-cum, and a very erect dick.

“Alastor!” The sound of your voice stuns him a little, even when he knew it would be you on the other end. “Alastor?” you call out. “Hello?”

It takes him more than a second to take the blood that’s throbbing his erection, and force it up his brain. “And what have I done to displease you, dearest,” he says, “that you would force me to use this blasted phone?”

“That’s what you say every single time you pick up the phone.” You chuckle a little. A small chuckle – that’s all it took to shoot the blood back down. “Yet, not once have you missed my call.”

“This is my punishment, not yours.”

“I’m calling to let you know I made it home with no problem,” you tell him. “And . . . I think I left my coat there.”

“Ah . . . yes.” Alastor swirls the head of his cock. Maybe hearing your voice would be the push he needed. “I’m looking at it right now.”

“Are you alright, dearest?” you say. “You don’t sound too good.”

“Just . . . a little tired.” His breath goes through the receiver, even as his claws dig through the pillow. It’s doing nothing for him – nothing at all. “There’s no need to concern that ridiculous head of yours.”

It’s silent at the other end of the receiver. Alastor can hear the gears turning in your head. You always were a bit too perceptive about him. “Did you run into your new little, doe friend?”

“That thing is not my friend,” Alastor hisses, still trying to pump his shaft.

“My apologies then,” you say, snickering. “I forget that you do not allow yourself the pleasure of friendship, but I’m starting to think that it’s not you who turns away from it.”

“Hilarious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch. Coincidentally, so does his dick. “Well, as lovely as this has been, I’m in the middle of something important. I’ll have one of the ink puppets drop off –”

“I think I left something important in my left pocket,” you say, and despite being miles apart, Alastor can hear your smile. “Could you check it for me, and make sure it’s still there?”

Alastor dips his fingers into your left pocket, finding what seems to be a small card. He flips it over, and this definitely is not a card. It’s a small, polaroid photo. It’s you in that picture. You’re wearing—

Actually, what you’re wearing doesn’t really matter. Alastor will take a look at it later. It’s probably something red. What catches his attention is the fact that your ass is pointed to the air. There are a myriad of bite marks and hickeys around your thighs, leading a path up to your glistening cunt.

“Do you like it?”

Alastor blinks at it for a second . . . and then, another second . . . and its laughter that echoes around his room despite how the picture rushes blood down his already throbbing cock. The need for relief grows stronger.

“Did you take this for me?” Alastor wheezes, eyes bulging in different directions. Tears fall from his eyes as he laughs. “How ridiculous of you, dearest! You’re propped up like a stretching cat.”

“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” you say, chuckling. “However, I am glad that you’re enjoying it, one way or another.”

Alastor shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, and glances at his painfully throbbing erection. “I’m in quite the predicament because of you.”

“Oh!” You sound a bit too delighted. “So, you’re—”

“As a rock.” Alastor pokes his dick, hoping it would do something.

“How amusing!” Your laughter rings into the receiver. Alastor revels in it, enjoying the sound. “You’re eerily responsive tonight. Shall I send you more?”

Alastor rolls his eyes at you. “Take responsibility for what you’ve caused.”

“Al, I already did my portion,” you say. “I can’t exactly do the next part for you, unless you drag yourself home.”

“And what do you expect me to do with this?”

Alastor swears he can hear the way your eyes roll at him. “I think you know what to do.”

“Don’t mock me.” Alastor flicks the head of his cock. “It’s not working. So, take responsibility for your actions.”

It’s silent for a little bit, but his ears pick up the way you lick your lips. “Why don’t you take a moment to get comfortable.”

Alastor takes a moment he doesn’t need. Talking to you always brings him comfort. “That’s been taken care of.”

“My naughty buck . . . I start with the tip,” you tell him. “I use a little bit of that pre-cum to lubricate you. Swirl it around before pumping it down.”

Alastor does as he’s told, massaging the sensitive tip as he lubricates himself. The sound of your breathing . . . the lingering scent from your coat . . . it coaxes a small moan from him. Alastor makes sure you can hear him through the receiver.

“I trail my fingers up the back, tracing that little line,” you tell him, and there’s definitely a smile on your face. “Can you do that for me, my sweet Al?”

Alastor gasps into the air, using the tips of his sharp claw to trace a path from the base to the head. It’s exactly how you do it. He can almost believe that it’s your hand that’s touching him.

“What’s next?” He breathes through the receiver, closing his eyes to revel in the feeling of everything. “What’s next, cher? Tell me what to do.”

“Make a ring with your finger, and wrap it around the base,” you tell him, voice a bit low. “Tighter, Alastor. Make it tighter than you think you need it to be.”

Alastor will never have the ability to deny you. So, there’s really nothing really else but to make a ring with his finger. The constant pressure feels so heavenly sinful. His hips buck up as he squeezes even tighter. Alastor takes his other hand, and pumps the length of his shaft in slow motions, making sure he feels every ounce of his building pleasure.

“Are you thinking about me right now?” you say. “Am I running around in that head of yours, pressing kisses before I take you into my mouth? Or am I on your hips, bouncing along to the beat of your drum?

“You never stopped.” Alastor thinks he moans your name, but the way he buries his face into your coat overloads his senses. The fire in his stomach burns faster, rising to the way you stroke his flames. “Cher . . . cher.”

“I’m right here, Alastor,” you say, and there’s a playful tint in the way you say his name. “Faster, dear. Lose yourself into me.”

Alastor jerks his hips, driving his cock into his hand faster and faster and faster.

The sound of your breathing pulls him along as he ruts into his hand, chasing sinfully sweet release. Alastor glances back at the photo of you, ass so high it’s practically worshiping him.

As he drives his hips up, Alastor notices something glistening around your folds.

A loud moan rips itself out of him. That’s his seed painting your cunt, slowly dripping out of you.

Finally, finally, his pleasure builds to its peak, and topples him over. Ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, pooling around his stomach. Alastor keeps pumping, dragging out all it’s worth as he spurts all over the bed, watching his seed drop to your coat.

Alastor doesn’t stop humping his fist, even as cum on your coat changes the smell on it. He keeps going until he’s still holding his still erect cock, driving it faster up his own sticky seed.

There’s a second where his mind clears for a fraction. Alastor takes a look around at the mess he’s making, and to the mess that he will make.

 No . . . no.

It’s all wrong.

Why is he cumming on his fist? This . . . this should be inside you.

If you happen to read this, I wanna thank all my friends in this fandom. The friendship I found in all of you makes me happier than I can ever express. I dedicate this handjob to : @nyx-umbrakinesis @redfoxwritesstuff @redvexillum @whatswrongwithblue @inuhalfdemon @crackrodent . I hope each and every one of you knows that you have all pushed me to become a better writer, and pushed me out of my own comfort zone. Each and every one of your works inspire me to become better and push myself to my limits. If it wasn’t for everyone at VoxTek, I would have dropped Alastor a long time ago. There’s a tweet I found that says we should be writing not for an audience but for ourselves and our five friends who are crazy enough to read what we write. I write for me and for you.

[ode2rin]

all my flaws

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. post-argument fluff | suggestive themes | established relationship | new boyfriend!rin 

content/warnings. 2k+ wc | characters are in their 20s ! | pro-athlete!rin | making out | narration heavy! | profanity | minimal proofread (me and my word vomit) | it’s like a new installment of this rin

in which: people say new relationships supposedly need a breakthrough fight to level up, but rin swears he would rather go through hell than do this again.

Your first fight as a couple freaked Rin out, even though he appeared stoic during the argument.

In the heat of the moment, Rin abruptly left your apartment, not uttering a word. Instead, he left you with a lingering glance filled with apathy—a look he'd never cast upon you before. His eyes turned void once again, when you were just getting used to it being bright and free.

What began as a simple disagreement, like any other couple's quarrel, escalated into rhetorical questions, accusing tones, and suddenly, it was him against you.

Silently, he rose from his seat, walked to the door, and vanished like a shadow that had never existed. To Rin, it felt like the right thing to do. You can't leave him if he does it first, he convinced himself. A twisted logic, fueled by emotions creeping from his past.

Yet apparently, his logic seems to be in total shambles when mixed and driven by emotions concerning you, because ten minutes later down the road, he wanted nothing more but to turn the car around.

Even so, in Rin’s true self-sabotaging fashion, he refrained. Because he’s awful, selfish, and couldn’t even fix insignificant arguments like a normal person would. Convinced of his own flaws, he believed you shouldn’t be with him— shouldn’t give him that chance after all.

The next thing he knew, the ten minutes he could’ve made to retreat back and apologize turned into 27 hours and 48 minutes of misery, spent in non-speaking terms with you.

It sucks. Everything sucks.

That night, he slept in his own bed. The next day, the in denial and emotionally constipated side of him made himself believe that the expensive yet seemingly useless mattress felt responsible for the raging tension in his shoulders and back. Of course it wasn't because of the absence of your messages or the unfamiliarity of his own bed. Of course, it’s the bed’s fault.

Life isn’t what it used to be. The sun didn't shine properly if it didn't come through the window of your room he spent the night in, his usual protein drink tasted like absolute shit because you didn’t make it for him, and not to mention the lack of cuddles before he gets up in the morning— it was bound to be the worst day of his life ever since you happened.

To make things even worse, he’s disassociating in practice, even missing a goal making everyone stop in their tracks. It was an unusual sight, Itoshi Rin doesn’t miss, after all. 

He was acting so gloomy that Bachira even pointed out how there’s a storm cloud looming over his head. A statement that earned a curt ‘fuck off, bobcut’ from the striker.

Meanwhile, Isagi took a more rational approach of expressing his concern toward his friend’s atypical behavior by taking out his phone and sending you a message.

Isagi: Did something happen between you and Rin? He's being tenfold more insufferable. [1:13 pm] Isagi: Please do something about this. - Chigiri [1:15 pm]

On the receiving end of these messages, you couldn't help but admit to yourself that you felt a peculiar sense of relief, knowing Rin was grappling with the same turmoil after he left.

You'd had your share of arguments before—petty disagreements that were easier to fix due to forced proximity. It was simpler when you were obligated to walk together on the way home from school; otherwise, he would stand in the same spot outside your classroom if you decided to be petty and ignore him. Annoyed but still caring, he insisted on confirming you got home safely, reasoning that your houses were next to each other.

Rin was still hard-headed, much like all these years. A testament to this was his silence over the past 24 hours.

Reading Isagi’s text messages once more, you let out a sigh and made up your mind – you will force him to fix things with you. You will express your displeasure at his abrupt departure, insist he not repeat it if he wants to do this right with you, and convey that it should always be the two of you against any problem.

It might be a blow to your pride to give in first, but it is what the two of you needed. It is what he needed. 

It just happened that you loved that man enough to provide what he needed, despite all flaws.

A day of missing you must have driven him to hallucinate, Rin concludes. You, perched on his couch, delicately peeling oranges and chuckling at a whimsical show on the screen, are just a hallucination.

“You’re home.”

And would you look at that, hallucinations even speak.

From your vantage point, Rin looks like he's seen a ghost greeting him with his unblinking teal orbs and brows slightly arching upwards. You notice the subtle tightening of his grip on the strap of his gym bag as he takes measured steps towards you, as though cautiously approaching a dream he fears might dissipate.

“Rin?” you whisper in confusion. It was meek, barely a whisper of his name, yet it was all that he needed to close the gap between you in mere seconds.

You gape at him from how determined his strides were. Surprise is instantly replaced by warmth as your lover basically throws himself over you for a well-sought embrace the moment you're within his arms’ reach.

You’re real, and you’re here.

And he can’t even begin to tell you how much tension finally left his body with that realization.

“I thought…” he trails off, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

As shallow as one might say, each passing hour of being away from you has fully convinced Rin that it might have been the end to what the two of you had.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you whisper softly in his ear, your fingers finding solace in the familiar texture of Rin’s hair, tenderly tracing paths down to his nape. Rin responds with a gentle kiss along the side of your neck, a silent affirmation of his gratitude for the comforting gesture.

Unspoken sentiments hang in the air, but neither of you feels the need to verbalize them just yet. The minutes stretch, and you both savor each other’s warmth that has been sorely missed.

As minutes gracefully slipped away, you initiated the release from his embrace, much to his chagrin. Rin openly displayed his disapproval by gently yet firmly wrapping his arms around you. But you were resolute in your purpose and slightly pushed him back.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, holding his face to look at you.

“No.”

“I’ll make you some food, then. Stay here.”

Before your intentions could take you to the kitchen, Rin pulled you back making you fall back to his lap. “don’t want you to go,” he confessed.

“But dinner–”

“No.”

“No? You don’t want to eat?”

“No,” he firmly replied, “Later. I want to hold you first.”

You didn’t respond to Rin, and just took it upon yourself to make yourself more accessible for him to hold by facing him while still seated in his lap. The shift in position sent a shiver of anticipation through both of you, and Rin, consumed by the moment, reveled in the exquisite sensation of your body pressed closely against his.

Slowly, his fingers reached the side of your jaw, tracing and guiding you closer to meet him halfway. With closed eyes, you felt his lips approaching, delicately and purposefully, until his lips were a breath away from yours. The distance between your lips diminished as Rin closed in, capturing your mouth in a sweet, lingering surrender. 

Rin’s strong hands explored every inch of you it could reach. You felt his touch on your neck, shoulders, down to your thighs. The teasing fingers paid extra attention to your waist, their grip subtly teasing the hem of your shirt. You melt into him more when you feel said teasing hands slide inside.

He was everywhere— your mind, your body, your very soul. Rin had them well occupied with all of him.

A soft gasp escapes you when he nips the familiar spot on your neck just below your ear, each kiss that follows tracing a path to your collarbones. Another gasp, louder this time, as Rin gently sucked the skin beneath your collarbones, mending the sweet sting with his feather-light kisses.

It was getting harder to think when a feeling of desire ran from your chest down toward your inner thigh from how impossibly hot Rin’s lips were consuming you.

And just when you thought he had had enough of you, Rin’s hand once again cradled your jaw, guiding your gaze to meet his. Shivers danced down your spine as you absorbed the sight of his half-lidded, glossy teal eyes.

“I need you, baby,” he breathed, “please.”

It seemed as though there was a lot to make up for in the past twenty-four hours that he couldn't hold you.

You stirred from your sleep to the sensation of lingering kisses scattered from your forehead down to your jaw.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found your lover gazing at you with those bright and free teal eyes, and you swore you never had a better way to start the day than this.

A smile graced your lips as you prepared to reciprocate the affection, intending to reach for him and plant a kiss on his jaw. However, your gesture was momentarily halted by his unexpected outburst.

“I love you.”

Professing to you used to terrify Rin – it used to knock all the air from his lungs and make the room seem so small. Now, with a few years ahead to gather enough backbone to escape the misery of pining, professing to you— loving you, felt as easy and natural as breathing.

And he hoped, with every beat of his heart against yours, that he would be breathing just fine in the many years to come.

“I love you,” he tells you again. Just for good measure, to ensure you heard him right, and just to make sure you know he does love you.

You heard him well. His words were clear enough, and the rapid beating of his heart against yours was loud enough to attest.

“Say it back, please,” he pleaded against the soft skin of your neck.

“I love you, Rin.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

He offered no verbal response, but a palpable sigh of relief emanated from him. For a man of few words, he sure does need a lot to feel better.

His warm breath lingered on your skin as a brief silence enveloped you both. Then, with a deliberate yet gentle gesture, he gathered both your arms, placing them above his shoulders, and pulled you closer by your thigh, guiding it above his own.

He loved holding you this way. He wasn’t a big believer, but he wondered if this, right here, was the closest he would ever come to heaven.

“But we have to unlearn those bad habits, Rin,” you asserted, your voice carrying a firm resolve, “No more leaving. We will sit through it, and we will talk, baby.”

Rin’s arms around your waist tightened, as if silently acknowledging your words. You knew he was listening— Rin could be hard headed and all, but he always listened. To you, and only you, that is. 

Minutes passed in silent communion, the world outside fading away as you and Rin held each other. Eventually, drowsiness began to cast its gentle veil over your senses. You couldn't tell if Rin had fallen asleep because his face was buried in the curve of your neck, hiding away in your scent. Yet, the soft and steady rhythm of his breath made you think so.

As you closed your eyes, allowing the realm of dreams to envelop you, Rin’s voice, muffled and quiet, broke the silence.

“Are we going to be fine?”

Barely audible, his question carried a hint of hesitation. And perhaps, if you listen a little closer, you could almost hear the 11-year-old Rin behind his lucid words.

Lucky for him, you had known that little boy throughout your life, enough to love him just as he needed, despite all flaws.

“We will be.”

note. hi, my life ain't life-ing lately soooo here !! i hope all of you are fine and having a blast. but if you aren’t, i’m sending you all of my love. we’ll have better days ahead, trust 🤞🏻

[writesvani]

coming down | 01

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to-enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): emotional distress and anxiety, body image issues and weight-related comments, mentions of food, dieting, and restriction, verbal abuse and manipulation, self-harm ideation, substance use and abuse references, mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, insecurity), intimate situations and explicit language, abandonment and neglect, self-deprecation and feelings of worthlessness, bullying or being belittled

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— previous chapter / next chapter

wc: 4,7k // date: 5th of March 2025

CHAPTER ONE - The Morning; proceed with caution...

AN: okay, first of all, let’s talk about ren. he's liteeerally the only reason i'm posting this chapter earlier. REN. If you didn’t fall in love with him in this chapter, then honestly, i don’t know what to tell you because he’s an absolute gem. like i’m literally obsessed with him. he’s my favorite character HANDS DOWN. i’m talking top-tier, i would throw myself in front of a speeding bus for him if i had to. i mean, he’s got the charm, the humor, the flawless sense of timing. he’s a walking chaos machine and i’m here for it. can we please get a round of applause for ren? seriously, he’s out here living his best life, making questionable decisions, and somehow being the best friend anyone could ask for.

this chapter? oh yeah, it’s the introduction to the story, the one that sets everything on fire (in a good way, don’t worry). we’re finally giving you the ren experience in full force because he’s that important. his energy? unparalleled. his bad decisions? iconic. his ability to get people into ridiculous situations? absolutely legendary. and don’t even get me started on how much i’m loving writing for him. i know you can’t tell, but i’m literally typing this while holding back tears of joy. like, this man could ask me to jump off a cliff and i’d probably do it because i’m just so in love with his chaotic little soul.

stay tuned for more chaos, more fun, and more ren being ren.

love, [@writesvani] (ren's #1 fan)

No one ever told you opening your eyes while fighting a horrible hangover would be this hard—well, they did, and you’ve experienced it millions of times—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Fluttering your eyelashes, your eyes barely open as a blurry flash of sunlight enters your narrow line of vision.

Ugh.

Why did you drink so much last night? You don’t even know.

Never drinking again.

Noted.

Lying to yourself won’t make the situation any easier.

Noted as well.

Hardly awake, you shift, trying to lift yourself up to sit—except your bed isn’t yours at all.

And this isn’t your room.

Or your apartment.

Your head throbs as you blink away the lingering fog in your vision, forcing yourself to take in your surroundings.

A small studio apartment. Cramped, slightly chaotic, and definitely unfamiliarly familiar.

The sofa beneath you is worn, the cushions flattened from years of use. Next to it, a tiny coffee table is cluttered with splattered magazines and old computer science textbooks, their spines cracked and bruised from relentless study sessions. Among the mess, a dirty ashtray overflows, its stale scent clinging to the air.

Gross.

A ginger-scented candle sits beside it—maybe an attempt to neutralize the overwhelming stench of smoke, though it clearly isn’t doing its job.

Your eyes drift further, landing on the tiny kitchen area. Greasy, dimly lit, its sink overflowing with dishes that look like they’ve been abandoned for days. The counters are barely visible beneath the chaos of unwashed mugs, instant ramen cups, and a suspiciously sticky bottle of what you assume was once honey.

Unease coils in your stomach.

Where the fuck are you?

Your fingers clutch the blanket draped over you, a thin, soft thing that smells like cheap detergent and cigarette smoke.

And then—

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave, so strong it almost makes you dizzy.

Oh.

Thank God.

Thank God you ended up here.

“So my worst best friend is finally up! What a lovely surprise!”

A voice—far too loud for this hour, far too cheerful for your current state—pulls you from the lingering haze of sleep.

You groan, pressing your palms into your temples as if that could somehow will away the pounding headache splitting your skull. “Please, for the love of God, let me enjoy my peace and quiet for five minutes before coming in with your unnecessary comments.”

A dramatic gasp. Then, “Okay, bitch. Rude. I understand you’re hungover, but please just be civilized for a second there. You don’t have to throw your defensive mechanism in—I didn’t even start my lecture yet.”

You crack open one eye just to glare. “Cut the crap, Ren. I’m not really in the mood right now.”

Ren smirks, crossing his arms as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Oh babe, if I were into women, I’d already have gotten you in it.”

Your lips twitch despite the throbbing in your skull. Because no matter how much you despise him in this exact moment—for being loud, for being happy, for simply existing when all you want is to die a slow, miserable, post-hangover death—a wave of relief crashes over you.

You’re safe.

Safe from last night. Safe with him.

You’ve known Ren for ages. Just to be more precise, since you were eleven. He’s your other half, your soulmate in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with the fact that, if it weren’t for his overwhelming love for ass and balls and dicks/men, the two of you would already be married.

It’s a thought you’ve had more than once. A parallel universe, maybe. One where you’d be an old married couple on some tropical island, far away from the bullshit of everyday life. Where you’d smoke weed all day and piss him off, and he’d play The Sims 4 all night and piss you off right back—screaming at his Sim for cheating on their husband with some new guy, courtesy of Wicked Whims.

But that’s not this universe.

This one’s a little messier.

This one’s full of questionable life choices, painfully slow mornings, and an unspoken pact:

If neither of you find an unrespectably hot, respectable man by the time you’re 35—

The wedding’s on.

“How the fuck did I end up here?”

Your voice is raw, thick with exhaustion and regret. The world tilts as you sit up, and for a brief moment, you genuinely consider throwing yourself right back into unconsciousness.

Ren, ever the dramatic one, sighs as if this isn’t the millionth time you’ve asked him that exact question. “What do you think?”

You blink at him. “First of all, don’t answer my question with another question. Second of all, IF I FUCKING KNEW, I WOULDN’T BE ASKING.”

Ren groans, tossing his hands into the air like a cartoon character about to launch into a monologue. “Okay, calm your pretty ass down, missy. You were too wasted. Or high. Or probably both. And you got a cab to my place. Probably the only address you could remember, considering we all know you can’t remember your own after one shot.”

His words are a jumble in your aching brain, but the general gist is clear: you fucked up. Again.

You huff, crossing your arms, but the sudden movement sends a sharp pain straight to your skull.

Yup.

Yup.

Never drinking again.

“Oh, Rennie,” you mumble, pulling his blanket over your head and collapsing onto the silky mattress. “I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again.”

Ouch. Bad decision. Pain again.

You’re dizzy, disoriented, sinking into the pillowcase you got him for his twenty-second birthday—the one he pretended not to like but still uses anyway.

Ren sighs. Not annoyed, not even surprised. Just—accepting. Because this isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled into his apartment, destroyed beyond reason, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

You feel bad. You always do. But you can’t help it.

Ren is the last remaining fragment of the old you, the one you buried deep in the back of your mind, the one you so desperately tried to forget. But he’s Ren, and he’s been your Ren since you were eleven.

And you hate it—hate that you keep dragging him into your mess, ruining his perfectly fine days with your self-inflicted chaos. But for some unfathomable reason, Ren still loves you.

He loved you at your best.

He loved you at your worst.

And somehow, he still loves you in whatever the fuck this is.

“It’s okay, babe. I know you’re lying.”

Ren’s voice is steady, soft, almost knowing. He doesn’t call you out with anger or frustration—just that damn patience of his, the kind that makes your chest tighten and your throat burn.

“C’mon, don’t go all crocodile tears and fake regrets on me now,” he continues, settling down next to you. “You know there’s always a safe space for you here.”

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. His touch is light, barely there, but it still feels like an anchor. You lean into it instinctively, your head still pulsing with the aftermath of last night’s recklessness. Yet somehow, his presence dulls the ache, lulling your discomfort into something almost bearable.

Ren always had that effect on you.

“Now, now,” he hums, voice teasing but gentle. “Tell me what got you so worked up that you drank like a dog let off a leash last night.”

You tense, but before you can even think of an excuse, he sighs.

“Sorry for not coming, by the way,” he murmurs. “But you already know how I feel about Yumi and all your other friends.”

And just like that, if you thought you couldn’t possibly feel worse, Ren effortlessly proves you wrong.

Because the only person you actually wanted to spend time with on your birthday wasn’t there—and it’s all because of you.

Ren doesn’t like them. It’s as simple as that.

He doesn’t like your friends, your environment, or the people you surround yourself with. He thinks they’re a bunch of problematic teens trapped in grown-up bodies, incapable of making rational decisions. They seek validation from whatever reckless or idiotic thing they did just to be considered “cool enough” on campus.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s exactly what they are.

Ren isn’t shy about speaking his truth, especially when it comes to them. And you’re used to it by now. Hell, you wouldn’t want him to lie, to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. It’d be too toxic for your best friend to step out of his comfort zone just to match your lifestyle, to accommodate what you think you want.

He doesn’t need to.

Ren has been the only constant, the only good thing in your life for the past few years. And, in a way, that’s enough.

"It's okay, lovie. We’ll be together today," you murmur, your voice quieter than usual. "I tried to bail on the party, but you know Yumi—she just wouldn’t budge."

You shift, mind working at lightning speed, lips parting and closing as you try to piece together the mess of last night. It’s all a bit blurry, details slipping through the cracks of your memory like sand through your fingers. But one thing stands out.

Gojo called you cheap.

The words flash in your mind like a neon sign, burning hot, humiliating, cutting deeper than you’d ever admit. And, of course, you being you, there was no way you’d just walk away, let him have the last word like that. No, you had to strike back.

So you did.

In front of Geto, the guy you’d actually wanted to take home, you called Gojo out. Laid it all bare. Exposed your past, your messy, embarrassing, mistake-ridden history with him. Let the words roll off your tongue like venom, staining the air of Nanami’s pristine beige living room.

The degradation of admitting you’d once fucked the beautiful, white-eyed demon was almost unbearable. Almost. Because underneath that shame, there was something else—something undeniably satisfying about the way Gojo’s face drained of color.

Ha. Should’ve taken a picture.

The man was sweating.

But, of course, that satisfaction was short-lived. The moment passed, leaving behind nothing but a thick, awkward silence that hung in the air like a bad smell.

Mood? Ruined.

Horny? Not anymore.

Gojo? Pissed.

Geto? Not having it.

And honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Who the hell would still be in the mood after witnessing an argument that never should’ve happened in the first place?

Gojo left quickly, tossing a sharp, “This isn’t over” over his shoulder before disappearing.

And Geto?

He just sat there, staring at you, dumbfounded.

So, as any sane person would do, you decided to self-destruct with tequila and dance to the INNA Party Mix some random guy snuck into the playlist while no one was looking.

Gojo’s words didn’t touch you. Not even a little bit. And losing your dick of the night? Whatever. Hot guys were everywhere. Besides, it was probably for the best—you really didn’t need the extra drama of Geto’s girlfriend finding out about whatever almost happened.

So that’s probably how you ended up at Ren’s place.

Even though you have zero recollection of getting here in the first place.

“So it wasn’t just weed and shots,” Ren squeezes your hand, his voice softer now. “It was Gojo.”

Your throat tightens. No. It wasn’t Gojo. Of course, it wasn’t Gojo. You just wanted to let loose, enjoy the night, without anyone ruining it for you. Right?

Right?

“Who cares about that assface? I just wanted to get drunk and high, simple as that.”

“Okay, okay,” Ren lifts his hands in surrender. “I won’t mention it again. Promise on Charli XCX.” He nods toward the poster on his wall, and for the first time since waking up, a laugh escapes your lips.

His eyes light up at the sound, and in that moment, you swear you love him even more.

Because Ren never pushes. He never pressures you to explain yourself or dissect your feelings. He just lets you be.

And you love him for that.

What you don’t love is the flicker of knowing in his gaze—the way he reads you like an open book. Not many people ever managed to do that.

But it doesn’t matter. Because Ren never says it out loud.

It’s different with him.

Sometimes you wonder if things would be easier if you could have this kind of connection with anyone else. But then again, if you did, maybe what you have with Ren wouldn’t feel so rare and fragile and beautiful.

“Swear on BRAT,” you say, extending your pinky.

“I swear on BRAT,” he echoes, linking his pinky with yours.

And just like that, Gojo isn’t mentioned again.

Or last night.

Or Yumi.

Or Nanami’s obscenely expensive house.

"C'mon, babe. Let's go get some breakfast."

Ren tugs you out of bed, dragging you into the world of the living, and just like that, you’re not a mess anymore. It’s stupid how easily he does that—how he makes you feel a little less like a disaster with nothing but his presence. And maybe, just maybe, you love him a little more than you did mere seconds ago.

The place Ren takes you to is… odd.

Some kind of coffee shop-slash-restaurant-in-the-making. It’s close to his apartment, but it’s way too edgy to be a normal breakfast spot. But hey—a free meal is a free meal, and who are you to complain when he offered to treat you?

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating a little. It’s not that edgy. Just… offbeat.

It’s called Radio, and by some wonderfully bizarre twist, the entire place is literally filled with radios.

They’re everywhere.

The walls are made of them, stacked up like some chaotic art installation. Car radios serve as makeshift stands, holding the food and drink menus. The menus themselves? Coquette-coded, decorated with bows and big-eyed deer like they were plucked straight from some Tumblr fever dream.

And then there’s the rest of the decor—ripped anime T-shirts hanging in the corners, stickers on the counter with millennial-core quotes like Eat. Sleep. Coffee. Repeat.

The waitress who approaches your table looks dead inside, eyeliner smudged into a mess so perfectly disheveled it’s almost intentional. She definitely doesn’t want to be here. But then again, do any of us?

"Stop judging," Ren hisses.

You blink at him. Judging?

"I’m a broke college student, and this place is cheap enough to actually fill my stomach," he defends, crossing his arms.

"I’m not judging," you retort. "But you have to admit, this place is weird. Look around. The interior designer who made this was probably on coke. Or MDMA. Or both."

Ren sighs. Deeply.

"Not everyone has to get high to come up with weirdly fun concepts," he says, exasperated.

"Now that’s just a lie, honey," you shoot back, leaning on your hand. "All artists get their inspiration somewhere, and the good ones? They get it on something. Look at Van Gogh. Dickens. Bukowski—"

"That’s not something to be proud of," Ren interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Those people were addicts. They needed help. Jesus. There's no proof that they made their best works because they were high—who knows? Maybe their art would've been even better if they were sober."

You hum, pretending to consider his argument.

"Well, you can’t prove that, can you?" you say, smirking.

Ren narrows his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Checkmate.

You love throwing these hypothetical what ifs at him just as much as he loves throwing them at you. His argument about sobriety is well-executed, you’ll give him that.

But he’ll never understand the euphoria—the way inspiration thrums in your veins when you’re tipsy, or better yet, high. The way stories are born from that space between reality and delirium. You swear your best ideas only exist there.

(Not that you’ve ever tried making them sober, of course.)

"Let’s not argue about the lives and works of people we’ll never truly know," Ren sighs, finally relenting.

"Okay," you agree, lips twitching.

For now.

“So, we can’t talk about your Voldemort, but you can for sure tell me more about that black-haired hottie you met last night?”

Ren’s rosy lips curve into a playful grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement. And just like that, you can’t help but melt at how much he lives for the gossip. Some things never change.

“He has a girlfriend, you mentioned?” Ren asks again, clearly wanting the details.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I care,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t go after a taken man who didn’t want me—that’s just not cool. But this guy, I’m telling you, from the second he laid eyes on me, he was eye-fucking me. Like, full-on, taking my clothes off telepathically and sinking his cock into me. It was intense.”

Ren snorts, amused.

“And if you saw him—he was all black long hair, a bandana, A BANDANA hanging from his neck. Made me wanna strangle him and lick him at the same time.” You pause, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “And the polo shirt, okay, I thought it was kinda lame for a college party, but it gave me a peek at his abs and, oh my god, his happy trail. And his lips, babe, I’m telling you. Pink, soft, begging to be bitten. Ugh. I should’ve tried harder and just fucked him.”

“Wait, you saw his happy trail?”

“Yeah, his shirt rode up when he was stretching after playing billiards with the guys. I was already plastered, but trust me, I saw it. It was practically an invitation to drop to my knees.” You take a bite of your fries, half-listening to yourself as the images replay in your mind.

“Well, if it were me, I’d be licking that happy trail into the midnight and riding him ‘til sunrise, baby,” Ren quips with a grin, taking a bite of his crepes.

You can see the look in Ren’s eyes—the way he’s already imagining it all. It makes you laugh, feeling a rush of affection for your ridiculous, perfectly in-sync best friend.

“Got a pic of the hottie?”

You freeze.

Your horniness deflates to zero. You forgot. You didn’t even get his number, his Instagram, nothing. “I forgot to follow him. I’m so fucking dumb.”

Ren rolls his eyes.

“Follow him now, duh. Who cares?”

“I care,” you say quickly. “I don’t want him to think I’m some creepy-ass loser who’s randomly looking him up.”

Ren looks at you like you’re nuts. “He won’t think that. Plus, if he doesn’t follow you back, then he’s blind and needs a check-up.”

“Let’s just try looking him up on Insta. Maybe he has a profile pic so you can see him, but I am NOT following him.”

You whip out your phone and start typing.

And there he is. Geto Suguru.

And oh boy.

His profile pic isn't just a pic, he's shirtless, his shorts hanging low on his hips, and there it is—the happy trail, long, dark, and deliciously inviting. His face is perfectly smirking, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You feel a shiver run down your spine, practically drooling as you stare at the picture.

Ren, ever impatient, snatches your phone from your hands before you can even blink. His mouth falls open in shock.

“Sweet Jesus, oh my God,” he breathes, his eyes flicking between you and the picture, blinking rapidly like his brain can’t handle it.

Then he moves his thumb. And you know exactly what he’s doing, but it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.

Ren has just sent a follow request to your “almost fuck.”

You feel a panic rise in your chest. No. This is it. You’re going to strangle him. Watch as life leaves his annoying body and his breath gets lost somewhere else because you know—you just know—he did it. He followed him. From your phone and your goddamn Instagram account.

“Are. You. Fucking. Insane?”

You stare at Ren in disbelief, heart pounding in your chest as your brain tries to process what he’s just done.

“I did what had to be done,” Ren grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “This man is too fine and too sexy not to be tried out at least once. Honestly, pardon his straightness, but I’d blow him like my life depended on it. Since I can’t do it myself, you’re gonna take the sacrifice of doing it for me.”

You feel a mix of anger and embarrassment bubble up inside you. “Ren, I’m going to kill you. I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Relax, girl,” he snickers, waving you off like it’s no big deal. “And when you fuck him, pretty please think about me, so I can, by some miracle, feel it as well.”

You roll your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but there's that nagging fear lingering in the pit of your stomach. “What if he doesn’t follow me back?” you whine, your voice a mix of real concern and dramatic flair. “I’m too old for this humiliation. I don’t need more rejection stacking up on my list.”

Ren just shrugs, completely nonchalant. “He will. Trust. Now eat your food, ho, and let’s go shopping.”

You don’t believe him, though. Deep down, you know he’s lying—because by the end of your shopping spree with Ren, Geto still hasn’t followed you back.

You’re losing your mind.

Even after you’ve showered, eaten, and taken a power nap, you find yourself glued to your phone. There’s still no accepted request. No follow. Just a stupid pending ‘follow request sent’ sitting there, mocking you.

You panic. You called Ren probably ten times and sent him thirty messages, all containing some combination of death, you, kill, and didn’t follow me back. You’ve become a mess—unrecognizable even to yourself.

The worst part? You know he saw it. You just know it. There’s no way in hell he didn’t check his phone at least once in the eight hours that passed. He’s leaving you hanging, like some peasant who isn’t even worth the time to be acknowledged.

It stings. It fucking stings.

You were dramatic before, sure, but you were deep down thinking he'd follow you back. Everyone does. He was all over you last night, wanting you, practically undressing you with his eyes. There was no way that stupid little spat with Gojo could have ruined things with Geto. Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were just stupid.

How dare he?

How dare he act like you weren’t worth even a simple follow? You start pacing around the room, frustration boiling over as your mind spirals into overdrive.

Then it hits you.

Gojo. That bastard. He’s always meddling in your business, always making things harder than they need to be. He loves getting involved for no reason, just to mess with you.

Just like he did before.

18 years ago

It’s an usual Friday afternoon, and you’re sitting with your great grandma on the front porch, her wrinkled hands steady as she writes down the words you dictate to her. You don’t know how to write yet—not really. Yes, you know the alphabet, but putting words together, let alone sentences on paper, feels like an impossible task for your six-year-old mind. But you know how to speak, and that’s all that matters right now. So you speak, and she writes, and together, you create a poem. It’s about winter, and comfort, and there’s a line about soup cooking on the stove, messily tossed in there.

You swear, in that moment, you’ve never been prouder of yourself. You are creating something—your very first poem. And even though it’s messy, even though it doesn’t follow all the rules of the world that you’re still figuring out, you did it.

Gojo, your next door neighbor and self proclaimed best friend sits beside you, shyly drawing you, your grandma, himself, and his favorite teddy bear, Teddy (of course) on what he insists is a train, even though it looks more like a stinky snail. You laugh, but then your excitement gets the best of you, and you run to your dad to show him the poem you just made with Nana. You can’t read it, but that doesn’t matter because Nana’s going to read it to him, and you’re so excited.

You just know he’ll be proud of you.

Nana reads the poem out loud, and you watch your dad as he listens. He smiles, and you’re filled with warmth, because he’s so pretty when he smiles. His eyes crinkle in that perfect greenish light, and his mouth—those dimples—just make everything feel perfect.

But then, he speaks.

“Nana, it’s great you’re teaching her all that, but she doesn’t have to write about food. There are many more beautiful things to write about. Our little peach is already a bit too chubby, and we’ve really been trying to help her lose weight, so I don’t think writing or thinking about food is good for her right now, right?”

Your heart sinks. Your excitement crashes to the ground.

You don’t know what it is, but his words make you feel so small. Your eyes drop to the ground, and you can’t hide from the uncomfortable, overwhelming feeling that floods over you. You already feel too big in your skin, too big in your body. Too big in your dad’s mind.

And then you feel it—the rush of anxiety. It sweeps over you like a tide, drowning you in its force. The weight of his words, the weight of your disappointment in his eyes, it’s too much. You couldn’t even keep it together for a stupid little poem.

Again.

You’ve disappointed him. Again. And there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.Nana says something, her voice soft and reassuring, about you being a normal, healthy little kid. She shakes her head at your dad disapprovingly, but you can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. His words hang around you, clouding the air, and the warmth that had once bloomed in your chest shrivels up. The mood is ruined. And even though you fight it, even though you don’t want to, your eyes grow heavy and the tears that have been threatening to spill finally break free.

You try to hold them back, but they come anyway.

"I don’t think you’re chubby. You’re cute, and I liked your poem," Gojo whispers to you, his small, warm hand slipping into yours. He squeezes it gently and beams a pretty, innocent smile at you.

But instead of feeling better, you feel worse.

His hand is smaller than yours. And he’s a boy. He’s smaller and slimmer than you, and you’re a girl. You shouldn’t even be thinking about these things, but you can’t stop. He’s smaller and slimmer and better, and you're chubbier, and nothing about this is fair.

And then you hear your dad again, his words ringing in your ears, harsher this time.

“Satoru, you don’t have to lie to make her feel better. Y/n’s a big girl. She can take it. Besides, she knows it’s for her own good.”

You nod, but it’s sharp and harsh, the motion of your head quick and jerky. You pull away from Satoru’s embrace, feeling like you might break under the weight of everything. His eyes are sad. You can see it now. The pity. The pity in his eyes, in your dad’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes. It’s there, it’s so clear, and you hate it.

You don’t understand pity yet, not fully, but you understand how it makes you feel small.

You’re not a little kid anymore.

Satoru looks mad now. He gives you one of those looks—‘It’s okay, I’ve got you’—the kind that only makes you feel worse. You can’t stand it.

You want to run. You want to hide. You want to be alone, away from all of this, away from their pity, away from the shame building up in your chest.

So you do.

You run. You run to your room, and when you’re there, the door shuts behind you, and you fall onto your bed. The tears come in waves, and you cry until evening falls, until your eyes are red and sore. You don’t come downstairs for dinner.

“Tomorrow, I’m not gonna eat anything. Then all of them are gonna see.”

You whisper the words to yourself, not fully understanding the weight of them, but in that moment, they make you feel like you have control. Like you can make everything better. And that's how it all begins.

taglist: @heh123321 @kazupop @mintcheery @krispywhisperswhispers

[criswritessometimes]

hickey blurbs - (1/3) - schlatt

contents - hickeys, suggestive themes (no actual sex just like grinding), chuckle sandwich (rip babygirl), gn reader, no use of (y/n)

ted charlie

author note // hi! enjoy the first post and i hope you stick around to read any other sick thoughts i have about men in my head :).

it was a lazy day with your boyfriend schlatt, the both of you sitting on the couch all day as you traded off from watching some tv, to other shows, and gaming and rinsing and repeating. this was a rare event since you had a work-from-home day, and schlatt didn’t have to record anything for the day. you slowly wormed your way into sitting on his lap throughout the day. your legs were thrown over one of his, and your back was against his other leg, so you were sitting perpendicular to him and, well, on him. plates sat in front of both of you on the coffee table from dinner, with his beer and your glass of wine on either side. one last email and you promised you would be his for the rest of the night. you finish typing as you ask, “ok how does this sound,” you pause, “carrie, as discussed previously, attached is the reported earning from the last three quarters aand how it affected gross revenue for the year of 2024, growth in the company, as well as total earnings in the company. i will be back in the office tomorrow morning at 8 am to answer anyother questions you may have. have a great rest of your night.” you look up at him to gage his reaction, “isn’t this the like third email you’ve sent to her about this shit?” he asks, moving to grab his beer. “yeah, i don’t know what she doesn’t understand about it.” you look back at your laptop, “but does it sound good?” “i’d send it.” he takes a sip of his beer. you send the email and shut your laptop, reaching over the coffee table to set it down. 

you let out a big stretch which schlatt comments on, “ooo big stretch babe, giving jambo completion.” he chuckles as he places a hand on your thigh and rubs back and forth with this thumb. you finish stretching and lay across him for a moment, collecting your thoughts and enjoying his touch on your thigh. you feel his hand come higher and higher until it reaches your hip squeezing it to let you know his intentions. you look over at him with your eyebrows raised, “yeah?” “you’ve been glued to your laptop all day toots. i need you.” he just about begs. you fake a pout and begin to sit up to move to sit on his lap, “oh poor baby needs me because i had to work all day.” schlatt's hands reach for your sides as you settle into his lap. “can’t even wait, needs to have me right here on the couch, right honey?” you tease. “yeah, kinda.” his voice softens as he looks away from your gaze as he moves his hips away from your core as to not turn himself on anymore. your hand comes under his chin to force him to look at you as you start to grind on his lap, feeling his dick harden. you lean in and meet his lips in a searing kiss as his hands start to lose their grip as he starts to go into a state of bliss. “good jay?” you pull away and kiss under his ear, moving to his neck. “so good baby.” he whimpers out. 

your hips stop moving as you start to kiss his neck; you can sense he’s about to start complaining about it, so you start to suck hickeys onto his neck, stopping his complaints with moans. “wanna make you feel good jay.” you say into his skin, kissing and sucking more leaving dark marks. his hands start to work their way under your shirt, and you feel them on your back, griping and squeezing whatever he can. his neck is a mess at his point; some marks are so purple you’re scared that you accidentally broke the skin. you pull back from him, and your fingers trace the marks around his neck. “i think i might’ve been a little too rough with you, i’m sorry jay.” you lean into his neck to gently kiss the marks as an apology to his neck more than to him. his hand rubs up and down your back, “it’s ok toots, as long as you think they look good.” he smiles as he leans to kiss you on his lips. your hands move up to his hair, and you tangle your fingers in his locks and start to move the both of you so he can lay down with you on top of him. 

as you’re about to start to lay down, schlatts phone starts going off. 

you pull away from him and look over at the phone, then back at him. “it’s probably nothin’,” he states. you start kissing him again, and jay’s fingers find the shirt hem and start to pull it up, wanting it off. 

his phone goes off again. 

as your shirt comes off, you glance over to his phone. “umm, babe, it’s ted.” you pick the phone up, showing schlatt the stupid contact photo he had for ted. he sighs, knowing he probably forgot something ted needed. schlatt starts to sit up, and you hand the phone to him and shimmy off his lap sitting next to him. he answers the phone and puts it on speaker phone, “ello?” he asks, his accent coming back to him. “dude where the hell are you? we’re supposed to record for the podcast tonight.” ted asks over the phone. schlatt throws his head back as his hand rubs over his face. “nah you’re right i totally forgot. i’ll be on as soon as i can.” he hangs up. schlatt kisses you one last time as an apology for the sudden stop, “i’ll see you in hour ok? i wanna pick up where we stopped.” you nod and smile.  he had mentioned this was the last day to record it for the week, so they couldn’t push it another day. he stands from the sofa and makes his way into his office. you put your shirt back on and clean up from dinner. 

you can overhear the start of the conversation between schlatt, ted, and tucker when schlatt turns his computer on. “hey guys, sorry i’m late.” he was still turning his camera on and plugging his headphones in because the next thing you hear is ted, basically screaming, “jesus christ! what the fuc-” you chuckle to yourself as even schlatt hadn't seen his neck until he turned his camera on. “baby!” you hear schlatt call for you from his office, you already knew what he needed and grab the hoodie on the sofa. once you walk in, his eyes greet you, and he has that shit-eating grin on his face. you hand him the hoodie, and he trades you his headphones; you give him a questioning look. “put them on toots, ted has some words for you.” you put the headphones on and get closer to the mic. “hi ted, hi tucker.” you greet him with a sweet smile. “hi yeah, do you know what happened to schlatt’s neck?” ted asks cutting to the chase immediately. you look back at him; he’s scooted closer since the hoodie is on, so the viewers won’t be asking a bunch of questions. you look back at ted, “dunno, probably like a vampire or something.”

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem: epilogue (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 7.08k

WARNINGS & TAGS: attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns for reader, the morning after and the day after that. reader and yunho are very in love is lowkey kind of gross everyone, kissing, fluff, dream-talk, yeosang talk too! a little bit of angst if you squint, decision making and finally standing up for yourself is hard and reader is doing their best, sukwon being a good brother and making reader cry, gyuri being a little shit, wooyoung being a little shit, seonghwa being a good friend, happy endings let's goooo.

NOTES: hi everyone! here's the epilogue i promised! like i've said in a few asks that i've gotten, there's a little bit of the next story here, just something so you all have context of it before going in. i don't know when that one is going to be up (i'm not really far along with it) but either way i want to thank all of you for the patience and the wait! i really loved writing mbc:'). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 20th 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox, @honeybeehorizon, @hwallazia, @mady-66.

masterlist - part one - part two. part three. part four.

When Yunho wakes up, rested and naked, the room is dark. 

He turns to the side and the curtains are, of course, down but the thing is that he doesn’t remember closing them the night before. 

When he turns to where you’re supposed to be, the bed is made on your side and you’re not there. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t panic. He is sure of what you both have, he trusts you enough to know you didn’t run away from him, from you two, again. 

Also, he can smell a mix of coffee and the turpentine-like smell of paint as he gets dressed with his boxers and the slacks he was wearing the night before after picking them up off the floor and going to the bathroom to wash his face. 

He pokes his face out to the living space and there’s a make-shift tarp on the floor, the furniture is moved around to make space for you and an easel. You’re sitting down on a wooden stool, painting away and he wonders if he just missed that last night or if he genuinely just passed out and didn't notice this much change. 

He clears his throat “Good morning, princess.” 

You jump a little, turning your head to look at him and there’s paint on your face and your hand when you wave at him. 

“Hi, Jeong.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” 

He chuckles “No cute nickname? Just Jeong?” 

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” You turn back and he catches that you’re pretending to focus on your painting, but you’re repassing the same painstrokes as before. 

“We’re going to have to work on it,” he lets out a sigh that turns into a yawn. “Sorry that I slept in on you. What time is it?” 

“Around three.” 

“In the afternoon?!” Yunho looks around for his phone but he locates the clock in the wall first and he confirms your words. “Princess, why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve spent the day together…” 

“I rather you rest,” you shrug and he takes a few steps until he’s behind you, his hands immediately reaching out to touch you. He can’t help it, he wants to physically fuse into you but he compromises with nature and just massages your shoulders. “You have sectionals in two weeks, right?” 

He frowns at the reminder, a tiny smile on his lips a second later. 

“How do you know that?”

You stop the brush on the canvas and then look at him again, eyelashes batting with fake innocence. 

“I kind of bribed my assistant so she could bribe yours and now your general schedule is on my phone…” 

He fakes a gasp and he marvels in the pout he gets in return. 

“I needed to know when you were leaving the dorm this week!” 

“So you could drop the gift?” 

“Mhm,” you say, puckering your lips to ask for a kiss. He pretends to go for it and he truly pats his back for having a little of self-restraint when he dodges you to pretend he just thought about something. 

“Oh! That reminds me…” 

You huff in annoyance and interrupt whatever he’s about to say. 

“How did you know my room number and who let you in?” 

“I paid the receptionist and showed him proof that we were together,” he explains like it’s nothing and you huff again, amused this time. “Told him I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That’s so irresponsible.” 

Yunho reaches the box he left on the coffee table last night, opens it and pulls the polaroids out. 

“You dropped this off without any explanation! What are these?” 

When he turns around, you’re already painting again and he gets a five second look in his direction before you return your attention to your art. 

“Oh.” there’s a smile on your lips Yunho loves, although he’s not sure if it’s because you’re doing what you love or if you got reminded of something. “I was hoping you asked me about it. I, um, stayed at a resort during New Years, in Gangwondo.”

“Is this the first time we spent Chrismtas and New Years away from each other?” 

“Not the first time,” you muse and then shrug, “but definitely the first time in a long time, huh?” 

“I didn't like it.” 

“Why?” You look at him again and he sits on his knees on the couch like a neglected child, looking your way. You seem to find it endearing, because you laugh. “Because you didn't have anyone to kick under the table this year?” 

“That has never happened.” 

“Liar. Anyway, they have this winter festival that goes all the way until mid January and they have this… Traditional and modern fusion media dance performance that made me think of you. So I took some pictures of the dancers.” 

“So you just put them in the box because you took them while thinking of me?” 

There’s shyness painting your tone when you reply “Yeah.” 

His heart thumps happily inside his chest and he gets off the couch. 

“I love you.” 

You laugh again “I love you too, Yunho,” and, as you shake your head a little, you look in the kitchenette direction with your lips pointed at it. “I ordered some breakfast that you can heat up or you can give me… Twenty minutes and I can change and we can—” 

Yunho revels in the squeak of surprise you let out when he closes the distance, leans in and catches your lips in a short but firm kiss. 

“We can stay in all day if you want to.” He says and you kiss his lips one more time. 

“Okay,” you seem happy to have that option so he sees the moment you make the decision to not push going out at all. “There’s some clothes for you in the walk-in closet. I ordered them when I ordered all of this,” you point at the mess on the tarp and the floor, “I figured you might need them.”

“Thank you, my love.” He whispers and he pecks your lips before reaching for your nearly empty coffee cup. 

“There’s also one for you in the—” 

“I want this one,” he says, a sly smile on his lips and one of his hands returns to your shoulders to massage them. 

He takes a look at the canvas for once and he notices that, what he thought was a solid background color and some structure, has actually started to look like the view in front of you both, with the Namsan Tower in the back. 

“What about the CD?” 

“Hm?”

“Your gift,” he reminds you, “there’s also a CD.” 

“A mixtape, with songs that make me think of us.”

Yunho blows some air and he doesn’t have to look down to see you’re frowning at the sound “You’re a romantic.” 

“Do you want to die?” 

He laughs but doesn’t address the threat at all. Instead, the focus is on your art “The painting of us and the kids is beautiful,” he can feel your skin under his palm heat up at the compliment and it makes him smile. “This one is too.” 

“It all just flows so much smoothly when I don’t have to think about work or being home,” you admit, your body relaxing into his when he takes a sip of the cup and brings it around for you to do the same. “I want to stay here, with you, forever.” 

“And we can,” he murmurs into your head, leaving a kiss on your temple a second later. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I want to move out,” you say, your tone full of wishfulness and Yunho takes in a breath at what that could mean for you, “I want to quit my job.” 

“And what do you want to do for work, then?” He asks, already supporting the decision. “You want to paint?” 

You shake your head, looking up at him, a wishful glint in your eye “I want to be an art teacher.” 

“Oh?” 

“Do you want to work for your father?” 

“Not in a million years, I— Princess, don’t get mad for what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

You turn in the stool, looking up at him with an inquisitorial brow until he crouches down on the floor to meet your eye. 

“My plan has always been to pretend to work and go along with him until I graduate college. Then, I want to move away. I want to… I don’t know, get disowned?” 

Eyes widening, you take in a sharp breath and then cough into your hand. 

He offers you the cup so you can take the final sip out of it. 

“It’s part of why I went along with the PR relationship in the first place.” 

You nod and he gulps, staring as you get lost in thought for a second. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because I sort of planned to use you?” 

“Not really, though. You wanted to use the relationship they threw us into?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s understandable, then. I… I understand.” This time, you’re the one gulping and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “I, um, I’m not sure if I actually can go against my parents wishes and never see my brother again, Yun.” 

He shakes his head. “If you think for a second that Sukwon is going to give a fuck about your parents feelings, you’re wrong. I… Me and Gunho are not as close as I want us to be, you know? But we talk about things.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Sometimes,” his laugh lasts a few seconds only and then he clears his throat. “If there’s something I'm sure of, princess, is that your brother loves you with all his heart. If you want to step away from the family business, from your parents, he… He’ll understand.” 

You nod again. 

“And I’m not saying any of this because I want you to do the same things I want to do but I—” 

You interrupt him “What do you want to do?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to work as an engineer?” 

“Yes,” he breathes out and you smile, “but I also want to dance. Have an academy, maybe, but I need money and experience and a name.” 

“You already have a name.” 

“I need to make a name for myself, princess,” he explains and you nod like you already knew, because you probably did. “Get a stage name, maybe.” 

“Ha!” you laugh and he raises his eyebrows, amused by your reaction. “Maybe… Yunho the rakehell? Yunho… Oh! Yunho the bitchl—” 

“Stop that!” 

It seems like that joke is never to die down and he’s glad, he’s glad that he doesn’t take genuine offense in it anymore and he’s glad it makes you laugh in a way he wants to record and play on repeat forever. 

Grabbing his face, your thumbs brush against his cheeks and he can swear he has never felt so at ease until now. This, waking up and going out of the room to find you doing what you love. You, looking at him with some much love, it's hard to believe it took you both so long to leave your pride behind and work it out. 

“You are worth it, Yunho,” you whisper and he knows right away you’re referring to the fight you both had at the office, “and I have no idea how we’re going to make it, but we are. Of that I’m sure, my love. I trust you,” you brush his hair back and off his forehead, “I trust us.” 

He holds your face as well, the pad of his finger passing over the dry paint on your cheek.

“I trust us, too.” 

Before he can react, you’re smooching his lips again and he melts into the encounter, the passion of last night bleeding into his movements once again and painting him red when he gets on his knees and pulls you into his lap in a smooth motion. You yelp and laugh and then you moan into his mouth when his hands find your ass and his fingers dig into it through the jeans you’re wearing. 

Huh. 

You’re wearing jeans. 

They look so natural and good on you that he didn’t even notice it’s the first time he seeing you in jeans. 

“Again?” You ask, already winded and clinging onto him for dear life in a way that makes him laugh. He pulls back and finds you shyly smiling at him but it doesn’t really help your care that he can see right through the act. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It was a joke,” you grab his shoulders to shake him to no avail and then before getting up you lean in to kiss his cheek in a manner so sweet that makes him all giddy, like a fool in love. Maybe because that’s what he is. “Take a shower.” 

“Take it with me.” He says, without thinking about it but one hundred percent meaning it. 

“I already showered.” 

He makes sure to scrunch his nose and make a funny face “Did you really?” 

It’s not really a surprise when you turn around from your painting and swipe your brush across his mouth. 

“I smell amazing and you smell like shit. Go and shower, Jeong.” 

He enjoys ticking you off a bit too much. Either way he laughs, the taste of paint on his tongue when he does and, when he gets up and goes to the bathroom, he hears the soft sound of your giggle and his heart feels full.  

And then you get him back like ten minutes later, by turning off the light in the bathroom and almost giving him a heart attack at the sudden loss of it. He breathes out an exaggerated sigh and, when you turn them back on, he turns around and watches you through the glass divider. 

Unfortunately for you, the glass is frosted from his chest down, but you lean against the marble counter and eye him suggestively nonetheless. He continues with his shower as if this is the most normal scenario ever for the two of you. 

It feels like it, anyway. 

“Can I help you, princess?” 

“Tomorrow I’ll go home,” you start, not a question or a request, but a fact. “I’ll go home and I'm going to sit with them all at dinner and let them hear what I’m going to do from now on. They don’t need to know that I’m going to take classes—” 

“You are?” 

Humming, you nod once and then twice after a second of looking at the floor, determination in your stare when you look up at him again. “I’m going to get a bachelor’s in art education, maybe just art first. It’ll take time but…” You shrug. 

“But you’ll be doing what makes you happy.” He finishes for you. 

“Yeah,” you return softly, “and I'll be detached from my family’s hip eventually.” 

“One will argue,” he says, closing his eyes to avoid shampoo to get into them, “that you’re already pretty independent.” 

“While doing my work and my brother’s work, sure,” you smile, “but not when it comes to living on my own.” 

An idea crosses his mind and colors his cheeks, so he hums “You’ll be lonely.” 

“I already feel that way at home… But I do love the idea of having a space all for myself.” 

He hums again and then wipes the water from his eyes to send you a look. 

“How much do you love it?” 

“Jeong,” you say, laughing when you finally get what he’s suggesting, “we’re not moving in together.” 

He pouts. 

“Yet.” 

He smiles at you again. 

“Besides,” turning around, you let out a tired sigh when you catch the paint on your face and then you open the faucet to clean it off, “then Yeosang would miss you too much and he’ll blame me. I don’t want your friend to hate me.”

“He would never—” 

You don’t let him dismantle your excuses “What is he up to with that documentary, anyway?” 

He closes the shower and reaches for a towel the next second, not even bothering fully covering himself up when he gets out and you send him a look through the mirror, one he can’t decide if it’s in reproach or if it’s charged with something else. Probably both. 

But he plays coy and tries his best to answer your question as he secures the towel around his hips. 

“He’s doing this documentary about dance, he’s been working on it for a while. Obviously I’m the star of it,” he watches you roll your eyes and he bumps your arm with his in retaliation. “But my co-stars are taking all of his attention now. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“And he finds them— your co-stars I mean,” your eyes roll again, “at the club?” 

Yunho barely helps the laugh that spills out of his lips.

“No, um, that’s a completely different story. He keeps saying that he needs to film this one girl for the documentary but we all stopped believing him when he almost got beat up for filming her,” he explains, his hands brushing his wet hair back, “and he went back to do it again anyway.” 

Your hip connects to the countertop again, your back to the mirror “So he’s in love?” 

“I don’t think so. I think he’s… Intrigued.” 

“Is she an exotic dancer or something?” 

“What?” 

“What?” you return, shrugging, “nothing wrong with stripping for a living.”

“I know, that’s not what I meant—” 

“Do you have something against strippers, Yunho?” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“N-no, of course I—”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“Princess…” He breathes out another laugh, a nervous chuckle this time. “Stop teasing me.” 

Your frown slowly breaks into a smile and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“But you look so cute when you’re flustered!”

He stops messing with his hair to grab your hips and make sure you have nowhere to go, trapped between his body and the cold marble behind you. 

“I’m not cute,” he says, low, almost in a whisper, “and I showered.” 

“Yunho… Are you not hungry at all? You have to eat something.” 

He wants to laugh again but he stops himself, his hands roaming your front and slipping to your legs when he kneels a little “Hm, I’m starving.” 

Gasping when he kisses your middle through your shirt, you push him away with feign distress written all over your expression. 

“Jeong!” 

He gets back up again “What?” 

“Are you going to be this much of a troublemaker when we live together? I have things to do!” 

He stops, his hands holding your hips still and then you gasp again when he tugs and presses you against his body. 

“You said when.” 

You gulp “I know what I said.” 

“You’re making plans for the future and I’m in them.” 

“Well,” you titter with a nervous glint in your eye, but your chin is up the next second, “you know what? Yeah. Yes, I am, because I love—” 

He presses his lips against yours before you finish your sentence and when he pulls away you push on his chest again. 

“Annoying.” You say but you don’t mean it and he laughs, his arms going around you before you melt into his embrace fully. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” 

You think about it, he can feel you thinking as he rocks you both from side to side “No,” you finally say, in a whisper and then your next words come out firmer. “No, I need to do this on my own. I would love to see you later tomorrow night, though.” 

“Hm, I have practice and then I promised to help Gyuri move in with Wooyoung but I can tell them that I’m in love and busy.” 

“No, no,” you pull back, smiling a little, “Can I… I mean, I can help.”

He smiles as well “You want to?” 

You nod. 

“She has a bunch of shit but San is moving most of the stuff because, partially, it’s his fault she has to move, so.” 

“Hm, how so?”

“Gyuri and his girlfriend live together, for years now, and now they want to move in with each other so Gyuri is forced to live with the embodiment of mischief while she finds an apartment she can afford.” 

You laugh “I don’t think it bothers her that much.” 

“Why?” He frowns and, at his question, you give him an incredulous look. “Why?” 

“Baby, oh my God.” 

He lets you go and you push him away fully, getting out of the bathroom. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” 

“Figure it out, dummy!” 

He’s truly, genuinely and utterly confused, but the smile on his face hardly goes down as he watches you sit down in front of your painting again, from the bathroom door’s threshold. 

And his heart aches for the pain you’re probably going to endure the next day. 

When you enter the code to your front door, bag in hand, it’s almost lunch time. You didn’t let them know you’ll be returning today but you’re sure the way your suitcase falls at the dining room’s entrance is enough to alert them. Sukwon jumps a little, your mother lets out a scream and your father looks up from his phone slowly, gives you a look, and then looks back down. 

“Oh, great, you’re back. Y/N, next time would you please let me know when you’re showing up so I can schedule your appointments accordingly— Kim Y/N!” 

Your mother's scandalized scream is not what surprises you. What surprises you is the hug Sukwon gets up to give you, a tight squeeze that you smile into and then make a face at when he pulls away. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to just you. “Don’t let her tell you otherwise.” 

Nodding, you finally face your mother whose jaw is almost hitting the floor by now. Your father, as usual, is unbothered and tapping his fingers against the glass of the table, impatiently waiting for his food. 

“Why do you mutilate yourself like this? And without notifying your team, nonetheless! We’ll have to… Get you some hair extensions for the shoot that you have—”

“No.”

She pauses, her jaw ticking and her eyebrow raising in warning. A few months ago, the mere thought of upsetting her would’ve sent you into a panic attack. Now, you stand your ground and curve your lips with pride, lift your chin up with courage and hold the handle of your suitcase a little tighter because you need it, because your hands tremble a little. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no,” you repeat yourself and your tone gains you your father's attention. “I’m sure the public can survive a haircut, mom. Can you?” 

“Kim Y/N do not talk to me like that!” 

She steps your way and your brother steps a side, giving you a wide eyed look that can only mean a here she goes again and you purse your lips to stop yourself from nervously laughing at it. 

“You cut your hair, you leave for three months and come back all… All chubby,” oh, my god, “and you dare to speak to me that way?!” 

The mention of your weight does send a little panic cruising through you. It has your father huffing from his seat and your brother snapping his head rapidly in your mother’s direction, a frown creasing his eyebrows and you can tell he’s about to say something but you stop him with a shake of your head.

And then you laugh. 

You taste something bitter in your mouth and you can see the exact moment she notices her words are not affecting you the way they usually do. 

“I think it’s time I move out,” you start, with a tiny, sardonic smile on your lips, “and I also think it is also time you think about the way you speak to me, mother. And I think you,” you turn to your father, “need to think about all the times you allowed her to talk to me that way.”

Your dad looks up, raises his eyebrows, hums and then looks back down again. 

“Sure thing.” He says. 

“What is happening right now?” your mother asks, a nervous chuckle coming out of her and after that she moves her hand, dismissing your point and turning to go to her seat again. “You’re talking nonsense. Go upstairs and wash. You’re obviously not having dinner, I hope.” 

She’s always doing it on purpose, bringing you down like that on purpose, but right now? Right now she craves vengeance. You notice it in the way she looks for your reaction when she looks up. 

“I am having dinner. Not here, not with you, not anymore.” 

Your mother sighs, rubs her forehead with her thumb and her index “Kim Y/N, I beg, stop terrorizing me and—” 

“She’s moving in with me.” 

You turn to Sukwon, he gives you a look to signal you to follow his lead. 

“She’s a little bit too grown up and independent to live under your roof still, mom. Dad?” He asks and your father looks up. “Don’t you agree?” 

“Well,” your father cleans his throat, his back hitting the back of his chair as he thinks it over, “she is capable of being on her own. Besides, her room can make a wonderful office for you, dear.” 

“Her room is staying hers because she’s not going anywhere!” Your mom stands up again, voice dark and tone painted over with something you’ve never even heard before. Not coming from her, at least: Fear. “Why do you suddenly want to move out? Is there…” She closes her mouth and then gulps, breathing out a laugh the next second. “Are you running away with someone, Y/N? Is that it? Did you fall in love on your little trip? You’re promised to someone!” 

“Promised? I am not promised because we’re in the twenty-first century, mom!” 

“To Yunho, Y/N! Don’t be stupid and tell your little fling to get lost!”

“Mom…” Sukwon warns but she laughs again, indignant. 

“What? She knows this already. How would the Jeong’s feel if—” 

“I don’t care what they feel!” 

Your voice resonates in the room, it shuts everyone up, it makes your mom take a step back and your father blocks his phone, finally interested in what’s going on. 

“I am with Yunho.” 

Your mother smiles a second too late at what you said and opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever nonsense she’s about to spew out. 

“I am with him but not because you or his mother planned it. I’m not trying to fullfill your little fucked up fantasy—” 

“Y/N!” She gasps at the cursing but you continue nonetheless. 

“I am with him because I love him. I love him and he loves me and we are together because, against all odds, we ended up bonding and finding comfort and solace in each other. We made the choice, we did,” you insist on it, to let her know that it doesn’t matter if you two being together is exactly what she wanted, the final say is on you and Yunho alone. “I have something you two could never have and that’s companionship and true understanding that’s not rutted in power or in money. He… He made me realize we’re so much more than this.” You move your hands in the space between you and the rest of the room and your father hums a bitter sound in return.

“This,” your father gets up from his seat, hands going in the pockets of his dress pants and eyebrows raised with a sardonic edge to them that pisses you off, “is your family.”

“I know and that makes it worse,” you nod and the slow anger showing in his expressions grows just a tad bit more, so you go on before anyone else can interrupt you again. “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on, dad; If you want me to, I’ll keep working at the company, but Sukwon's responsibilities are solely his from now on,”  you turn to your brother and he gives a fake pout but then he nods. “My job is simple, my job should allow me to focus on what I really want and, once I get what I really want, I'll make sure to find someone who can fit my spot so seemingly you won't even notice I'm gone.”

“I thought that what you wanted was to work for this company, Y/N.” Your father says.

“I thought so too,” you murmur back to him before shrugging, “but now I’m not so sure.” 

A bit of pregnant silence passes. The air feels thick now that you told them your terms, your plan or what you allowed them to hear of it anyways. Like you told your boyfriend, there’s no need for them to know that you want to take classes or teach. 

You’ll just do it. No need for their approval.  

But your mother still grasps at the control she had on you three months ago. She holds on to it, desperately and, if you were someone else and the situation was any different, you would probably admire the strength it takes to stay this egotistical and delusional until the end. 

She doesn’t seem to understand that her only daughter is running away from her. You’re not sure she cares, either and it hurts because, deep down, you expected to walk off with redemption on her side. 

Sometimes, there’s no redemption at all from the people who hurt you. 

And that’s also okay. 

“Are you done?” She asks, looking around. “Are you all done with this nonsense?” 

Taking in a breath, you try to tell her that what you said it’s what’s going to happen but she is not having it. 

“No,” her finger is up and you raise your eyebrow at it, which gains you a raise on hers in return. “No. You’re not looking for a replacement and no you’re not moving out. That’s insane, Kim Y/N, that’s—” 

“What’s my favorite color?” You interrupt to ask her and she stops, opening and closing her mouth while searching for an answer. “What’s my favorite sweet?” 

“You don’t have one.” 

“I do, I actually have two. What’s my favorite book? Movie? Song?” You turn to your dad this time. “What’s my favorite marketing strategy? Do you even know that one?” 

Silence. 

“You don’t know me enough to want to keep me here. I understand why you might think you do, but you don’t. Because, guess what? I’m an adult.”

Your mother opens her mouth and closes it again when you shake your head. 

And although you’re not speaking to her anymore, you keep looking at your mother straight in the eye and you’re able to catch the exact moment she realizes she lost. 

She lost. 

“I’m an adult with a paying job and savings you didn’t need to know anything about. So you either take it or leave it. Dad?” 

“You want me to decide now?” 

You let out a bitter laugh “You can do whatever you want. Just know that I’m not settling for anything else but what I told you. I can either train someone or you can fire me and I can look for a new job,” you explain, “but either way I’m out of here.” 

Your mother sighs and then mutters under her breath, but you catch it “What is everyone going to say?” 

“I don’t care,” you tell her again and at the response she looks up, startled, like she didn’t expect you to keep going. “Now, I hope you have a lovely lunchr.”

You’re positively shaking when you step into the hallway and through the front door again, with your suitcase in your hand still and no actual plan on where you want to go. Maybe back to the hotel?

Mind reeling, it finally registers the fact that your mother turned to your father and pleaded him to do something for the sake of the family's image just before you stepped foot outside of the house. It was a screech of don't let her go, do something! laced with clear selfish concern. 

You feel panic rising, closing your throat up and you feel lost, lost in what you just did, lost in what it actually means for you. 

“Hey, hey.” Sukwon catches up to you quickly, his keys in his hands, his breath jagged like he escaped your mother’s claws because that’s probably what happened. “Sell out! You needed to signal me when you wanted to leave, dumbass!” 

His eyes linger on your trembling hands when he takes the suitcase from you and you do your best to steady them. 

“You didn’t have anything to eat.” 

“I know. Where are you going?” 

“To… I don’t really know. Yunho’s dorm?” 

Sukwon laughs. 

“You have a house, you know.”

“I think I’m very much homeless right now. I’m getting trapped and probably thrown in a cell if I go back inside.” You swallow tightly as the realization washes over you. “She’s so mad.” 

“My house,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I told them you’re moving in with me, didn’t I?” 

“Sukwon…” 

“I meant it,” there’s something soft in his eyes before he turns to open the main gate so you can both walk up to his car. “You can stay with me. Like you said, you’re grown and I won't have to look after you anymore.” 

“Pfft,” that brings out a genuine laugh out of you, “anymore.” 

“I remember running behind you in the garden because you couldn't keep still the second you learned how to walk!” 

You look at him with a pout as he opens the trunk, throwing your bag in it without any care in the world. 

Like an older brother would. 

If your eyes turn watery, you make sure to swallow back the emotion before he can figure out why. 

“Can I have my own room?” 

“You have a room there already,” he admits, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about you when buying the apartment. Guhno usually stays there but I’m sure he can take the couch when he comes over and— Aw, Y/N!” 

By the time he closes the trunk, you’re already crying. A little, enough for him to notice it. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Open the door.” 

“I’m so telling Yunho you cried!” 

“Leave him out of it!” You push his shoulder, quickly getting into the car when he unblocks the doors and he does the same. “He’s staying over whenever he wants, by the way.” 

Sukwon laughs, his eyes wide when he turns to you “Not a chance in hell, Kim Y/N.”

“Okay, then your boyfriend is not staying over either!” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” 

You muse, trying not to laugh “I’m telling Gunho oppa you’re denying your love to my face.”

Your brother lets out a sigh and then you squeak when he pulls your hair, playfully, before looking at you with the most sincere stare Kim Sukwon has probably given anyone ever. 

“I’m really proud of you, kid.” 

Pouting again, you look away and through the window as he pulls out of the curb and into the streets, the house you grew up in quickly fading into the background and your heart thumping hard against your ribs. 

“Are you crying again?” 

“Ugh,” you turn to him, tears running down your cheeks and a smile pulling at your lips, “you’re so annoying.” 

Your clothes are now in your room at Sukwon’s (and yours) apartment, in the walk-in closet. Your brother's taste is nothing short of luxurious and obnoxious and the room is decorated in a way you would never think of decorating it but he swears he has someone who can fix it for me if he wants to.

He forgets that you already know Seonghwa but it's okay, because when you show up at Gyuri’s old apartment, you make sure to find him to tell him just that. 

“I've literally told him that we both know Yunho and each other. Wasn't he the one who gave you my number?” Seonghwa asks, mouth hanging open a bit in surprise. 

“He did, yes.” 

Seonghwa huffs in amusement and you shrug a little “Well, do you want me to work in your room?” He asks after a few seconds and you smile, considering. 

“I think I’m going to do it myself, Hwa.” 

At the nickname, his smile widens and he nods. You think he’s about to say something else, however your attention drifts from your newfound friend and your eyes search for Yunho in the middle of the room, on the floor, as he takes a piece of furniture apart. 

He’s wearing a dark grey crewneck that makes him look so deliciously good you can’t barely help your staring. There’s not one ounce of shame on your body and you’re sure it shows on your face because Seonghwa laughs besides you. 

“So I didn’t paint over the tree,” he says and you frown, turning to him, “but I take you reconsidered my point anyway?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“It’s not going to happen,” the mockery in his tone while he tries to make an impression of you doesn’t offend you because you can see the intention behind it and it makes you laugh, roll your eyes and close your arms over your chest, like a child who just got caught. “It’s not going to happen, my ass. Look at you!” 

“So I was wrong, who cares?” 

“I do, I love being right.” 

“He does,” Wooyoung comes into view from the kitchen, a drop of sweet doing his temple and into his cheek that Seonghwa wipes away like it’s nothing. “But I can say I called it first, remember? I’m never wrong.”

“You most certainly are,” Hwa says and you laugh at the expression Wooyoung makes to his friend, offended. Seonghwa turns to you. “He’s wrong most of the time.” 

“Okay, that’s it, you’re helping me with the weird spice rack she insists on taking.” Wooyoung takes his elder arm and pulls, making you laugh and Seonghwa gasps. 

“You’ve been working on that all afternoon!”

“She installed it herself so it’s all wonky, Hwa.” 

Gyuri screams from behind a pile of clothes. You can't even see her even though you know she's standing up. “It is not wonky, Jung Wooyoung!” 

Pursing your lips so you don't laugh at her predicament, you watch as Wooyoung silently communicates to Seonghwa that the space rack is, in fact, wonky and then you jump a little when arms close around you from behind. 

“Stop complaining, Woo, you're going to have the pleasure to install it however you want later.” Yunho's voice is close to your ear and you hug the arms that hold you, melting into the embrace. 

Gyuri laughs sharply when she registers what he said and Wooyoung makes a face at your boyfriend “I hate it here.” 

“Sure you do, Wooyoung.” You nod at him, joking even though you don’t know him that well, and Seonghwa joins the tiny laugh you let out at the face Wooyoung gives you. 

“I truly did not need a new addition to the group if I was going to get bullied by them as well.” 

You fake offense, laughing a second later and Yunho swats a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he passes by you both and into the kitchen again. Seonghwa rolls his eyes before following Wooyoung into the kitchen as well. 

Yunho breathes out, his lips finding your cheek “How are you feeling?” 

Turning to him, you smile a little. You know he’s asking about what went a little earlier today. 

“I’m good, baby,” you whisper back, leaning in a little and kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reciprocates but when you pull away you can see the concern in his eyes. “I promise. I already knew how she was going to react.” 

“Me too but that doesn’t make it any less fucked up, Princess.” 

“I know,” letting out a sigh, you turn to the living room again and the corners of your lips lift at the mess. “But I’m out of the house and I’m alright now.” 

“My mom texted me to congratulate us.” 

“Oh?” You don’t turn to him again but your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did you answer?” 

“No,” he breathes out a laugh, “but I should.”

“We can’t run from them forever, Yun,” you feel him nod against you and, finally, you turn around completely to face him. His hands find your waist, his lips curve as he watches you over and you do the same. “Also, you’re banned from my house.” 

His smile drops. 

“Huh?” 

“Sukwon doesn’t want you sleeping over.” 

“What did I do?” 

You hear someone laughing behind you and Gyuri comes into view a second later “You’re the official boyfriend now, Yunho, you lost your sleeping over privileges.” 

“I never had them to begin with!” 

“Well—” The sound of glass breaking stops her in her tracks and she goes a little pale at what it means. “Call the police, I’m committing a murder and then turning myself in.” 

And then she disappears into the kitchen as well. Faintly, you can hear Seonghwa laughing. You hold onto Yunho, fingers threading softly into the strands of hair on his neck. 

“They’re not helping us when we move in together.” 

Yunho laughs. 

“When we move in together we’re going to hire professionals.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And Seonghwa can do the interior design of the main part of the house but we can handle our room and studios by ourselves.” 

“Mhm.” 

There’s that slight glint of concern that crosses his expression again when you take in a deep breath, but you shake your head so he can let go of it. 

“We’ll be okay, Yun. We are okay.” 

You watch him swallow tightly but then he nods. There’s a lot you both should be concerned about right now but, as you hear Wooyoung scream from the kitchen and a loud smack against the wall nearest to you, you both silently decide to be in the moment. 

It doesn’t really matter what hardships you go through, as long as you’re together. 

“Against all odds,” you insist, “we’ll be alright.” 

I love them and I'm so sad to let them go but hey! that's life! If you read all the way down hear, thank you so, so much. Don't be afraid to go into my askbox to make comments, suggestions, etc! I will take everything into account for my other stories. Thank you!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[koolades-world]

So, request for the Obey me boys (main and side). When I'm emotionally stressed or overwhelmed, I get the urge to clean (especially if my space has been needing it). So, how would they react to an MC spontaniously cleaning anything and everything in that sort of state (Dishes, Floors, surfaces, their own room, etc)?

hi! sure thing!

i relate to this on such a deep level. it's when i get my best cleaning done LOL. having a crisis? suddenly the room is the best it's looked in months

posting this instead of spellbound because getting my car took much longer than I expected. spellbound will be tomorrow for sure :)

enjoy <3

Mc who spontaneously cleans

Lucifer

he may just have to marry you on the spot

his brothers aren’t exactly the cleanest bunch and sometimes he feels like he’s the only one making an effort

he might cry if he comes downstairs one morning and the kitchen is sparkling

Mammon

if he’s not the messiest bitch ever… no shade but there’s no way his room doesn’t look like it was hit by a tornado

however if he ever sees you cleaning he'll try his best to help

he will also try his best to keep things tidy to make it less work for you <3

Levi

I can’t explain it but something about him screams neat freak to me

but, this only applies to his spaces because it would be too much work

he applauded your efforts because more than once he’s cracked and just deep cleaned everything haha

Satan

he’s clean when he wants to be

and most of the time, he is. the only times he isn’t is to piss off lucifer even though he’s just going to drag him back to do it anyways

after seeing how hard you work, he never does that again haha. he would hate for you to have to pick up after him

Asmo

somehow clean but messy at the same time

he won't stop you if you want to go to town cleaning up his makeup pallets and what not

afterwards though he makes sure to treat you <3

Beel

definitely the guy that takes three plus showers a day lol

he always asks you to make sure he's picking up after himself though just in case

he appreciates you and everything you do :)

Belphie

if you think he's tidy, i am so sorry you are wrong haha

will complain about an area being dirty and then proceed to ask why you were cleaning it up

however he will thank you every time he notices you've tidied up :)

Diavolo

despite the fact that he has a whole team that cleans for him, he hates to leave behind a mess

so, he always insists you get him when you get the urge to clean

everything is better when you have someone by your side! besides, he'll take any excuse to be by your side

Barbatos

you know him, he’s incredibly tidy to the point that it’s almost impossible to find a mess in the demon lord’s palace

but in the rare cause you’ve beat him to it, he’s grateful since it’s rare he gets help

afterward, you’ll be having tea together, his treat

Simeon

he also seems like his things are always clean no matter what

it's almost like he's magic at the rate at which messes vanish

he will feel bad if he sees you cleaning, and will take over

Luke

both of his dads (simebarb sorry for kinda sneaking this narrative in here lol) are both neat people, so it only makes sense for him to be too

after all, he wants to be just like them!

if he catches you cleaning, he will instantly join in

Solomon

he seems like he would live realistically, not too dirty, but also not too clean

if things are a little cluttered, he's alright with it because it looks lived in

if you do spontaneously clean, he'll try his best to make it up to you with his cooking!!

[kumabeom]

you’re losing me - beomgyu

summary : beomgyu lost the love of his life. because of his own actions

wc: 1.5k, beomgyu x reader, taehyun x reader, beomie isn’t a good person, cheating

you didn’t expect it at all. two days without your boyfriend. your clingy boyfriend, the same man who claimed he couldn’t go two hours without you. and it wasn’t like anything was holding you back. if you remembered correctly, you visited him in the morning just a day ago, knocking on the door and being met with no response. just a worrying silence befalling the atmosphere around you.

no messages. no calls. nothing.

and just now, he was returning to your home like nothing happened. a small greeting falling from his lips before deciding to wrap his arms around you and join you on the couch to watch some movie. he didn’t say anything, not even when you asked him about what happened. lies splurging from his mouth. something about work and needing to work overtime. not even bothering to explain why he hadn’t even picked up the phone. instead he just— laid there with you. and you accepted it. you accepted the way that he was being distant.

meaning that beomgyu wasn’t going to change his ways.

why would he? if he didn’t face any consequences, there was no reason to change his behavior.

so when you went 4 nights without hearing a single word from your lover. small lettering under your messages that read, “read���. you shrugged it off, knowing that he was at least a bit safe. and even though it seemed like you were keeping a strong and confident act, you felt your heart beginning to chip away. small empty holes with nothing to fill them up with. the joy that you once felt from seeing beomgyu started to dissipate.

but it was always okay in the end.

he eventually came around. whether it took a week or longer.

his absence became more.. consistent.

two days without beomgyu turned into five days. which eventually turned into weeks.

but as long as the warmth that emitted from his chest was against you at some point. you felt like you had no right to complain.

even if he was posting on instagram actively, reading your messages, but never giving a response.

sweet whispers of promises being softly spoken in your ear, promises that he’d make up all the time lost to you on some lavish date night. one where he promised to spend all night committing himself and his time to you.

but when that night came. ten minutes turned into twenty. which somehow became an hour. the waiter’s pity filled glare eventually brought you to your senses. leaving a bill at the table and packing your things up, leaving. exiting the stupidly luxurious restaurant. the ridiculously overpriced dress that you had on was ripped off and replaced with the comfortable pajamas that you found lying around your home.

when beomgyu showed up the next day, he didn’t even mention the date the two of you had set the day before. showing up like nothing had happened. the man who once cared so much about you, was now gone. the loving stares that you were used to being met with were replaced with cold shoulders.

small gestures that beomgyu used to show you as an act of love were all gone. he no longer took the time to spare time for your weekly movie night. he never offered to do you the small, yet irritable chores that you hated doing. he no longer let you wake up to the smell of a sweet breakfast. the small actions of affection were so rare to fall victim to.

the lack of small kisses splattered all over your body, no longer experiencing the slight electric sensation that caused you to become absolutely flustered. the two of you rarely ever went on a date, and when you did, it was after spending hours waiting for him to even remember to show up.

you couldn’t help but wonder if beomgyu had been cheating on you. the sudden excuses to leave after he took a singular look at his phone.

the weird messages that he would get that yelled out loud to you. flirty little pick up lines showing up on the screen of his phone. sudden “work meetings” coming up out of nowhere.

so when you asked beomgyu to meet you at your apartment, he didn’t really know what to expect. you had stuck by his side for months, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. he showed up hours later than you had asked him to, even though you expected it. that hadn’t meant that it didn’t hurt any less. tears dripping down your face. quivering bottom lip tucked by your upper teeth. the feeling of pain spreading through your body.

attempting to discard of your tears as beomgyu popped into your apartment. no words being exchanged to comfort you, he could tell you’d been crying, but usually when he saw you crying, you usually came around. because for some reason. you always came back to him. his lack of effort in the relationship, yet you always came back to him. to the cold atmosphere that he now set between the two of you.

“i think we should break up..” you muttered, glossy eyes looking down.

“why?” was all he could say. he never thought he’d feel it. he never thought he could feel the amount of anxiety that currently felt like it was piercing his heart. he was immune to it. at least that’s what he thought.

“this relationship is so one sided..” beomgyu immediately knew what you were talking about. the way you had spent restless nights wondering if he was ever going to make it home. the amount of times that your calls went straight to voicemail as you wondered if he was ever going to show up to what the two of you had planned.

“okay.” it angered you even more to see that beomgyu had no kind of argument against your decision. did he really want nothing to do with you. had he been cheating on you, and was he waiting for this opportunity to appear, so that he could leave a suffocating relationship.

he really didn’t love you. you believed it. you truly believed it. he silently walked off, leaving you alone in a weeping state. sobs falling from your mouth, translucent tears streaming down your face. soaking in sorrowful tears, basking in a weeping pity full mess.

it took you a while.

a while to stop mourning over the absence of someone so important to you. to realize that you had no reason to care for a relationship that was only ever one sided. but eventually, you were convinced. convinced that you were over beomgyu and his rather toxic habits.

beomgyu thought that it would’ve been easy. if he didn’t give any effort into a relationship, then surely it wouldn’t have bothered him to move on.

either way, beomgyu had been talking to someone. he wouldn’t consider it cheating. there were no romantic acts involved. except for the occasional kissing, sleepy nights spent together, cute small dates planned together. all while you were bawling your eyes out.

so why was it? why was it that beomgyu found himself thinking about you while still with his newfound lover. the person he claimed would save him from his horrible relationship. he often thought about the way that he was the reason for everything going wrong. you always tried. but he never did.

beomgyu still lurked around and would often times see what you posted on social media. small, indirect quotes targeted towards him. music lyrics indirectly describing your heartbroken state. but one day. he noticed that it all changed.

happy song lyrics.

cute emojis posted with outdoor pictures.

happy lyrics slowly turning into more loving, romantic wording.

posting pictures of two items. out getting coffee ? there were always two coffees. out getting ice cream? there were always two cones.

pictures of the largest and most beautiful bouquets being displayed.

a kiss mark on the back of someone’s hand.

two hands grasped together.

“happy one year anniversary my love <3.”

those words stuck out to beomgyu like a sore thumb. and when the story disappeared on his screen, he clicked on your profile once again. leading him to the screen he was just at. noticing that your lips were directly placed on taehyun’s cheek. his friend. his own friend.

two years after the two of you broke up. and now it was your one year anniversary with taehyun.

beomgyu could get mad as much as he wanted. but at the end of the day— it was his fault. it was always his fault.

it was his fault that he changed, that he started cheating. finding joy in such a forbidden way. leaving you stranded with no one to help you.

and when someone did help you.

he was angry. angry that taehyun did what he couldn’t. upset over the fact that taehyun had his hands on something that was once his.

taehyun had your love.

something that beomgyu had. until he selfishly threw away your relationship for his own pleasure.

©️kumabeom

permanent taglist : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @tinyelfperson @strwbrrykthv @bloomngspring @bamgeutori (send asks !!)

[mysumeow]

. . . ꒰ TEMPTING

Warnings: afab body and breasts, reader is referred to with you/your only. PIV unprotected sex, edging, prone bone position, thigh job, pwp (plot what plot). This is sort of a continuation of another smut i posted but you can read this without reading the first one.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: uhg. lilia. i love him. i love general lilia. thats it that all i have to say.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . KOFI | TWST MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS

Whenever a window of opportunity to rest presents itself, you’ll sit on the nearest tree stump or log available, idly watching what happens around you.

You see soldiers' training, sparring, fixing tents, and the general dividing tasks among his subordinates with a stern voice. Lilia’s an example of what being a leader means—not limiting himself to delegating labor, but also lending a hand.

He grabbed the handle of his lithic weapon as he sparred with one soldier; with practiced ease, Lilia unarmed the soldier. The general reprimanded the other fae for losing his footing over a basic movement.

Lilia plans tactics for ambushes furtively, aiming to attack the enemy’s weakness first. Deft and sharp.

Soon, you’d understand that the general isn’t used to docility of any kind. Neither giving nor receiving. A war general shouldn’t allow a margin of error, steps should be given with precision and intent on subduing your adversary.

You recalled your first intimate night with Lilia. You remembered the sensation of him holding back, and even then, he still did a number on your body. You’ve spent enough time with the fae to know that the moment you try to point out any attempt at tenderness on his part, he would deny it.

You couldn’t help but find it endearing. And your curiosity increased the more you wondered about to what extent you could tease him and make him lose his constraints. Lilia’s libido was pretty responsive to what you did or said, so it wouldn’t be difficult to push him in that direction.

The moment the soldiers were already in their tents, you sneaked into the general’s.

“I’m heading to the lake to wash off the dirt,” you said as you entered the tent. You found your fae writing something down on the map splayed across the table.

Lilia acknowledged you with a hum.

You sighed. “I don’t wanna go alone. The woods become frightening the moment there’s no more sunlight, you know.”

Lilia dropped the pencil and looked at you. “A little dirt on your body’s not going to kill you,” he teased.

“You know I can’t sleep like that. I sweated a lot today, too. Baur made me accompany that expedition group to the mountain’s skirt in the morning,” you complained. “I promise it won’t be long.”

You sensed that he was about to give up.

“And someone could sneak up on me and see me naked.”

That was enough argument for the fae to stand up from his chair and rush to tag along with you.

This was your favorite moment of the day, when you could not just finally go to bed but also freshen up with clean water. Even if the temperature might be a bit chilly during the night, the fresh water was welcomed to clean you up from the dirt and sweat that clinged to your skin.

“The water feels nice,” You hummed as you dipped your toes into it. Lilia was more concerned about making sure no one was near, though, his ears flicked at the slightest suspicious sound.

You began undressing in front of him, as you have done many times before. Even with your back turned towards him, you could feel his stare roaming around your flesh.

You carefully entered into the serene lake until the water covered your chest.

“Lilia,” You called out to him again. His gaze returned to you. “Why don’t you join? You look like you need this, too.”

“You said you wouldn’t take long. I still have work to finish.” He crossed his arms, gripping his lithic.

“Just this once,” You almost pouted. “You’ve been busy these past few days. I miss you already. I’ll even help you wash your back.”

You held Lilia’s stare before he, for the second time today, humored you. Soon, his clothes were untidily placed next to yours.

Beaming with joy, you hugged Lilia the instant he was within reach.

“General, your hair’s getting wet,” You hurried to help him fix his hairstyle in a way that the inconvenience would be resolved. “There. All done.”

Lilia grumbled about something meaningless as he allowed you to scrub his back, washing off both dirt and dried blood and uncovering new lacerations he had gained from recent ambushes. You traced them with your fingers, leaning closer to kiss those scars.

You couldn’t see Lilia’s expression, but you did sense his body’s temperature going up.

“Mm, you’re so warm,” You relished the warmth from the fae’s body. Your tits pressed flush against his back, and your hands roamed around his front—feather-like touches teasing his chest and abdomen. You were aware that your words and actions were leading in a certain direction, so before Lilia beat you to it and followed through with it, you pulled away from him. “It’s getting chilly, though. Let’s head back already.”

In the blink of an eye, Lilia gripped your wrist and pulled you towards his chest. Your backside making contact with something hard and hot, nudging in between your thighs.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Hm? I thought the general had work to finish,” You feigned innocence.

“That can wait. Right now, I need to have you.”

“But we’re in a lake! Someone could walk in on us. Let’s head back to the tent,” Ignoring the evident ache in your body, you did your best to deter him. For fun. To test how far you could make him wait. If not for your determination to uncover the fae’s strength, you would’ve conceded.

Under the promise, the general’s complaint had died for the moment.

Once in the tent, you were preparing to go to sleep, until a sudden force pinned you against the bed. A small squeak left you, and the familiar arms squeezing your waist made you understand that your little teasing reaped an interesting reaction from him.

“Lilia—” You tried to gain some balance by trying to prop your torso up with your hands, but the general immobilized you by further pinning your legs against the mattress with his.

“You little tease, you think I wouldn’t notice what you were trying to do?” He brushed away the hair covering your nape to nip at the sensitive skin there. “If you wanted me to rough your body up, you should’ve just asked for it,”

This was what you wanted, although you didn’t imagine it would be this soon. If this little teasing got you to this point, you couldn’t imagine how he would be if you had done more...

One hand slipped under your underwear while his other hand covered your mouth in time before a moan escaped you. With his index and middle fingers, he began rubbing your clit in circular motions.

“I’ve been treating you with so much leniency you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with,” His breath against your ear made you shiver, and a renewed sense of pleasure overtook your body. “I’ll have to remind you,”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You managed to whisper, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible but failing with how he played with your sex. Lilia really did know you inside out.

“You were already wet when I slid my hand under your clothes. Don’t try to act coy now,” He seemed to be amused, above all.

You clutched the sheets as you lost yourself in pleasure, your head falling against the pillow and using it to muffle your voice. You barely register Lilia pulling your pajama pants down and off your legs.

The fae grew eager, having a sliver of enough composure left to discard your underwear, but your uncoordinated and trembling body made the task more complicated than needed. Instead, he pushed it to the side, his fingers not once faltering in stimulating you.

A muffled whimper of his name. Not even a second later, Lilia stopped his movements.

“Noo, what’re you doing,” You protested, not expecting him to halt. “I was about to…”

“Aw, you were about to. What a pity,” He mocked you, momentarily freeing your body from his antsy hands to remove his own garments. Once done, you felt him spread your slicked pussy lips with his thumbs, eyeing you up with a satisfied, complacent grin. “You like being treated like this. You have no salvation, do you?”

Despite not being able to deny it, your face burned from embarrassment. Even if Lilia tended to put your pleasure first and holds back from going all out, the change in that tactful demeanor into a meaner one still excited you.

While holding you open still, he grinded his cock between your folds, using both his pre-cum and your arousal to lubricate it. You were growing impatient, and thus, tried to grind back against him to incite him into already giving in.

Lilia rested his weight against your back, his chest flush against it, weighing you down. Lilia dug his fingernails into your flesh, while demanding that you stay still. His fingers went back to playing with your clit, using your sticky inner thighs to pleasure himself.  

After what felt like forever, the tip prodded inside, taking his time to stuff you with more of his dick. He pulled back until the just head was in and thrust with more strength. The feeling of Lilia’s warm body embracing yours and his thickness stretching you almost made you forget about holding back your voice.

From the very moment you conceived the idea of teasing him, to Lilia not allowing you to touch yourself or him, the buildup to your orgasm approached faster than what you expected. As if both factors weren’t enough, you were still sensitive over the climax you were robbed of prior moments ago.

You mewled, trying to reach behind you and hold his hand to ground yourself.

Instead, the fae grabbed your arms and pinned them against your back, his pace not stuttering for even a minute.

This was what you wanted—for him to be rougher…and within a couple more smacks of his hips against yours, you came hard around him, broken moans of his name escaping from your bitten lips. Lilia quieted himself by kissing your shoulder the moment he released his cum inside.

Sore and spent, your head collapsed forward against the pillow again. You heard Lilia’s amused chuckle, resting next to you while keeping an arm wrapped around you.

“I wasn’t too rough, right?” He muttered after a while in silence, his eyes inspecting your body. “Does it hurt somewhere?”

“My arms, you gripped me too hard,” You mumbled. “I didn’t notice it at the moment because…it felt nice…”

At your confession, he looked taken back by it before his expression shifted into a relieved one and he chuckled. “I should’ve known you like being treated like that. You are quite keen about my fangs, and I’ve noticed how your body melts when I bite you,”

Before you could fawn over the coy visage that took over his eyes for a split second, it faded away with the same ease it appeared as he turned his head to the other side.

“I love it when you’re trying to be gentle, even if you’re not that great at it,” You teased, your fingers brushing his hair. Lilia grunted, suddenly grumpy about you pointing that out. “But I also enjoy it when you’re rough,”

He humphed, still avoiding facing you. You smiled at him, despite it not being visible to him. You closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion getting to you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Family Matters

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Thor Odinson

Summary: your new husband's brother surprises you with a visit.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The doorbell rings again and you barrel so quickly down the stairs, you nearly topple off the bottom step. You catch your breath and grab the post at the bottom of the banister to steady yourself. It’s a splendid house but you told Loki it’s too big for just the two of you. He didn’t like that so you didn’t mention it again, even though it feels empty with how much he’s not around. 

You let those worries slake off of you and hurry to the door. It could be another surprise! Loki hates leaving you for so long so he tries to fill the void with gifts. Sometimes, they make you feel better, other times, you’re just sad. You’d rather have him there. 

It’s not a courier but a familiar face. Your brother-in-law. It’s official as of one month ago. You’re family. 

“Oh, hi,” you deflate, trying not to show your disappointment. You’re not upset it’s him, you just hate being the one to say, “Loki’s not in.” 

Thor smiles. He’s rarely unhappy. “Ah, that’s unfortunate. Where is off to, then?” 

“Work,” you grumble the repetitive explanation. “Important project or something.” 

“Important enough to leave you alone?” He wonders. 

“I... guess,” you try not to mope. Loki says it make you look childish. 

“Well, I am much in the same boat. Alone,” he laughs hollowly. 

“Oh, yes, I... how are you doing?” You ask. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for coming to the wedding. Really, I know it must’ve been difficult.” 

“I couldn’t miss my brother’s special day,” he shakes his head. “It was a day for love. Wasn’t your fault mine decided to leave...” 

Your heart breaks for him. The day you were married, Frigga told you what happened. A hug fight right after your rehearsal dinner. Jane left before the morning. Despite all that, Thor didn’t show a hint of grief at the wedding. 

“It’s too bad. I liked Jane.” 

“Needless to say, I did too,” he smiles thinly. “Well, I hope I didn’t disturb you very much. I suppose I could come calling tomorrow and hope my brother isn’t too busy for the likes of me.” 

Your heart rents for him. Here you are, a new marriage, a husband to long for, and he lost his girlfriend of five years. You don’t have much else going on, it would be nice to have someone there. 

“Did you wanna hang around for a bit?” You ask. “Not much going on but... this place is eerie when you’re all alone.” 

“Hm, did Loki say when he would return? Wouldn’t mind waiting around a bit,” he suggests. 

“I hope soon but he didn’t say,” you shrug. “Yesterday he wasn’t home until midnight.” 

“Midnight? He would make you wait so long? A lovely young wife like you?” He scoffs. “Well, that is just terrible. I will not commit the same crime as my brother. I’d love to come in.” 

“Alright,” you smile. “I... we could put something on? I was going to watch the new season of the true crime show.” 

“Ha,” he enters as you step back to let you through. “That wouldn’t help being alone, would it?” 

“I guess not,” you giggle. “We could watch something else. A comedy. I’ve been rewatching Friends. For the hundredth time.” 

“Whatever you like,” he slips his shoes off and puts them on the mat. “The only words a woman like you needs to hear, eh?” 

You laugh again, “do you want snacks? I got some caramel corn and gummy bears.” 

“My brother let you bring those in his house?” He wonders. 

“It’s our house,” you face him with a pout as you stand in the broad archway to the front room. 

“Yes, you are correct. My apologies,” he follows. “You know, he only hates those sugary treats because he is weak to them. Be sure to hide them well or you might find some missing.” 

“No, he never wants any,” you continue into the front room. 

“So he wants you to believe,” Thor counters. 

“How about drinks? We got a bunch of wine from the wedding. Some scotch?” 

“I only really indulge in lager and I'm not of the mood for it,” he assures. “I could help with the snacks.” 

“No, no, sit,” you grab the remote and hold it out to him. “Find something to watch. I’m so indecisive I just flick through the menu for an hour.” 

“I will do my best,” he accepts it. His hand dwarfs you own as his fingers brush across yours. Loki’s hands are long, but not as thick. 

You push your shoulders up and spin around to flit off to the kitchen. You scurry away and slide into the kitchen. You go to the cupboard and take down the bag of caramel corn. You pour some in a bowl then grab the package of gummy bears and a box of cream cookies. 

As you come back to the living room, Thor leans forward to set the down the remote. You put the treats on the glass table and sit on the other end of the couch. You only realise then how awkward it is. You’ve never really been alone with him. 

“Thank you. So sweet of you to have me,” he says as he twines his fingers together. “I feel as if everyone has been avoiding me since Jane. I fear I might be a bit... melancholy.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you glance at the TV as it plays an intro to a show you don’t know, “well, how can anyone blame you? You’re going through so much.” 

“I’m an adult, these things happen,” he says. 

“Sure, they do, but I mean, it still hurts. It’s not easy,” you insist. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.” 

“Ugh,” he puts his elbows on his legs and cradles his head. “I don’t mean to bring my dark cloud in here.” He rubs his temple. “Truly, I think I’ve been trying to outrun it but... what else can I think of with only an empty home to go to?” 

“Oh, Thor,” you sidle closer on the cushions. You gently touch his arm. His bicep is a lot bigger against your hand. “It’s okay. You can’t hold it in forever. It's good to feel these things. Once you get through that, you can move on and I’m sure you’ll find the right one.” 

He sniffles and you flinch. He quakes against your touch and your chest knots. You never imagined him crying. Especially not a man his size. You don’t know what else to do but comfort him. You rub his shoulder and he huddles over further and wipes his face. 

His long blond locks conceal his tears as he mops his sadness away with his knuckles. You hum and get even closer, your hand trailing up his back. 

“Thor, I'm sorry. It feels so cruel, I know. Especially the timing of it--” 

He startles you as he leans against you. You let out an ‘oop’ as he turns to embrace you, curling his shoulders and hunching to put his head on your shoulder. You have no choice but to let him. 

“Oh, it’s been awful,” he snivels. “I’ve been so lonely.” 

“Shhh, let it out, that’s okay,” you rub his back and stare at the wall. You certainly didn’t expect the night to go like this. 

He holds you tight as he cries against you, his body heaving. You know Loki isn’t the best for these sorts of things so you’re happy at least he trusts you enough to listen. That’s about as much as you can do. 

“You won’t believe how cruel she was,” Thor rasps. “She just yelled and yelled. She shoved me and—she just kept accusing me.” 

“Accusing you? Of what?” 

He’s quiet for a moment. He lifts his head to look at you, his arm across your back. “Of wanting another.” 

“Oh?” You blink in surprise. 

“I told her no, no, I did not, but she kept saying “I see it! I see it in your face!” And I swore to her, no, no,” He wipes his face with his other hand, “but now I’m afraid she might have been right.” 

“She... who?” You frown. 

His arm wraps around you, his fingers dipping into your side and in a moment, the couch shifts beneath you. You cannot resist as surprise paralyses you. Thor lifts you easily onto his lap, turning you and sliding you to sit on his thighs. 

“Woah, uh, whaat--” You press your hand to his chest. “Please, Thor, you’re emotional--” 

“She was right, kitten, you are so soft, so gentle, and I could not look away. She caught me--” 

“No, no, you can’t-- Loki--” 

“Loki leaves you alone. He would rather work than stay and adore his precious wife,” He cups your chin and forces you to look at him. “He would abandon you...” he leans in as his eyes fall to your lips, “and leave you unkissed.” 

You try to pull back but you’re trapped in his embrace. He squeezes you close and crushes his lips to yours. You squeal and struggle against him, finally turning your head so his mouth smears across your cheek. 

“Untouched,” his hand trails down your neck and you clasp onto two of his fingers, straining to keep him from going lower. “Unloved--” 

“Thor, stop, let me go--” 

He leans over so your back is on the cushion, his arm beneath you as your legs are folded up over his. He is on his side next to you. His large hand comes back to frame your face and he squeezes to keep you from squirming. You tug as his shirt and whine. 

“Thor, please, stop. We can forget--” 

“I can’t forget,” he growls and nuzzles your nose. You whimper and push against his chest again. He is stone, he is unmoving, and you know you cannot stop him. “I will never forget how you feel against me, kitten.” 

[brynnewithane]

[Dating Hoshina Headcanons]

Absolutely no one asked but this is how I imagine dating Hoshina would look like:

This post is based on my personal research and officially published information about Hoshina up to Chapter 110. Please read this with a giant grain of salt.

If he has a half day off:

Casual coffee dates, talk about anything and everything.

Walk in the park while he’s still wearing his tracksuit so he can respond quickly to Kaiju’s attacks.

Takes you to all the bookstores or libraries, buy books for each other then go home and read each other’s book.

Late night Izakaya date when his shift is finished. Both grab a beer and you’ll listen to him telling you about how his day went, including all the drama at work of course lol.

Spend a lot of quality time together reading, discussing a book he has recommended (probably non-fiction or classics).

I also love the idea that he likes to take you to every Japanese Festival like the Kyoto Gion Matsuri (Kyoto is in the Kansai region; he’s from a traditional old-money clan in the Kansai region, so this festival is a must), but he’d probably be on duty those days for extra vigilance in case there’s an attack. Despite so, he’s gonna make it up to you later on bc this man does have a sense of loyalty and he cares a whole lot once you make it to his heart and earn his trust.

Another headcanon of mine is that he‘s lowkey romantic. Like c’mon, he reads poetry lmao. I’ve never seen someone who reads poetry that doesn’t have a romantic side. If he’s off duty, he’d plan a proper date, such as:

Watches the Blossom Forecast to plan for a Hanami picnic (花見, hanami, "flower viewing") when Spring comes. He’ll bring sweets like Dango, Daifuku, and his favorite Mont Blanc.

Takes you to those kimono retailers, makes you try on different types of kimono, and buy the one you like most.

He’d take you to the beach, or onsen on some mountains. He’d ask you to go on a hike with him in the early morning bc that’s his routine and he wants you to join him as well.

He’ll prepare a yukata for both to attend summer festivals, buy sparklers (線香花火, senkou hanabi), play goldfish scooping (金魚すくい, kingyo sukui), eat candied apples and watch fireworks together.

Chilling in his house, drinking ramune and eating watermelon. You watch your favorite show, he reads his newly bought novel. Either you both cook and prepare dinner, or head out to a rather fancy traditional restaurant.

English is not my first language so my grammar isn’t grammaring sometimes. If there are any parts that feel weird or unnatural, please let me know🤧

[sitepathos]

so I just finished the post about ic reader was in a coma(?) kind of thing, and it got me wondering what or how he would react when he wakes up and suddenly everyone is all affectionate with him and he trys to decline the actions but he can't do much cause it's been awhile since he'd last physically moved, or something like that.

Thoughs?

Oh and I love this series, please never die, live a long healthy life😄

Had another question just like this, so hopefully this satisfies both. Note: this will allude to character feelings in future chapters. Read at your own peril.

Alfred enters your new room just like any other morning, blended breakfast in hand, when he sees you moving.

“Alfred,” you say when you notice him.

That’s enough for him to drop the trey and rush towards you, bringing you into a tight hug, afraid you’ll go back into that state if he lets go.

You’re stunned as the normally composed butler lets out soft weeping and begs for forgiveness.

He fills in the gaps in your knowledge, that the family had found you just after being shot and had you brought to the manor to receive treatment and that you’ve been in a vegetative state for over a month now, all of them taking care of you.

You’re shocked, of course. Both at surviving a gunshot to the head and the Waynes actually gave a damn about you.

When he says they felt so guilty at how they’d treated you, it made sense. They weren’t doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they’d feel guilty if they didn’t.

You go to say as much when the door opens and Bruce walks in, who stops mid step upon seeing you now awake.

“Y/N,” he says in disbelief. “My baby boy.”

The sight of him pisses you off. You’ve lived in this place for years and it takes you almost dying for him to give you a second glance.

You go to stand up, eager to go back to your room and finally leave Gotham, not caring that you’d have to find a way to graduate, when Bruce and Alfred stop you.

“Where’re you going, baby? You need your rest!”

“My room,” you spit at him. “I’m getting my stuff and finally going home.”

“But this is your room,” he responds, making you now realize that all your belongings have been moved into this extra large bedroom. “And you are home.”

“No, this place isn’t home. It’s never been home and it will never be home. Goodsprings is my home and now that eighteen, I can go back to my house.”

First, Bruce is shocked to hear that you’re eighteen. For god’s sake, you’re so small! You’re even smaller than Tim!

Second, you plan to move out of the manor? He knows that they haven’t been the best family, but to move on the other side of the country?

He tries to convince you to stay, to recover from this awful ordeal, to let them make up for the years of mistreatment…

But you made it clear that you want nothing to do with them and that you believe they only did this because they feel guilty and they’ll go back to ignoring you.

It’s only then that he realizes the depths for his mistake. That you hate them so much that you’ve planned to get away from them for years.

He didn’t think he could feel lower than he has been ever since the accident, but you proved him wrong. He actually wants to curl up and die.

You make it clear that you’re leaving right now and there’s nothing they can do to stop you. You’re eighteen, after all.

That’s when something in him snaps. He wants you to stay here and he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

He pulls Alfred out of the door and locks it, making you yell from the other side, saying that he can’t keep you in here.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong and that he has no right to make you stay, but he doesn’t care. You’re his firstborn and he’ll keep his family together, no matter what it takes.

He and Alfred call a family meeting in the room and fill them in on recent events.

At first, they were elated to hear that you’d finally awakened and they could talk to you. That quickly faded when they said you hated them and that you’d planned to leave them.

They agree that you can’t leave and they’ll all work together to get you to change your mind about them and want to be a part for the family.

Bruce went back up, thinking that the could appeal to you using whatever father-son relations that may be left.

That plan quickly died when you said he wasn’t your father, but a sperm donor and how your Momma made a huge mistake allowing him to sleep with her.

He stands there, taking insult after insult, watching as your face turns blood red from anger and eyes start treating tears of rage.

He wants to make it up to you, but knows that right now, he’s only going to make things worse, so he sends Dick up.

“Hey, baby bir—“ you cut off his greeting by throwing a heavy book at him that misses his head by half an inch.

“Fuck off, asshole,” you growl, practically foaming at the mouth.

He tries to calm you down, saying that he knows that he hasn’t been the best big brother, but—

Again, you cut him off, saying that he was a big brother to everyone else because he cared about them and that he made it clear you weren’t a little brother to him and that he’s not your brother. He’s nothing to you.

Ok, that stung a bit, but he’s determined to make amends!

“Everyone makes mistakes, little bird, and we’re ready to fix ours.”

You reward him with a backhand to the face and he takes that as his sign to leave.

Jason comes in, trying to think of something to say that won’t earn him a pimp slap like Dickhead.

“Look, kid, I get that you hate us. Really, I do.”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are you saying I can go, get the fuck out.”

He knows where you’re coming from; for years, he despised Bruce and the others, but he learned to let go of his anger towards them and be a part of the family. And he wants that for you. It’s not safe out there and you could get hurt again.

But, when you say for him to go to hell, memories of the night Joker killed him resurface and his eyes flash that damn Lazarus green.

This causes you to tackle him, sending you both to the floor, and you wrap your hands around his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

He could get out this easily. The hold isn’t strong and you’re still weak from not moving for a month and even if you had recovered, you’re not trained in combat like them.

But he lies there, because he can see the rage in your eyes and as he listens to the hate in your voice as you hurl insults and threats at him, does he finally understand just how much he failed you.

He’s accused Bruce of replacing him with Tim and everyone of forgetting about him because he was too angry, too careless, and too brutal for Batman’s methods.

But because he was so pissed at them, he did the same thing to you. If he had just pulled his head out of his ass, he would’ve seen how they were treating you and taken you with him.

But he didn’t. And when you two met for the first time, he gave you a black eye because he thought you were just some brat Bruce was trying to replace him with, instead of a victim.

He’s only freed from your “hold” when Steph and Cass rush in, the two girls separating you two and pulling him out of there, closing the door when you start throwing anything you can get your hands on.

Tim’s been watching everything unfold since Bruce went up there using a camera he place in there when you were first moved in there. It was him that told the girls to go in there and rescue Jason when it looked like he had accepted to meeting his end by your hand.

He knows he has nothing say will get a better response from you and he’s never been good at emotions. That’s Dick’s specialty.

But he knows how to observe, to find ways to improve hopeless situations into his favor.

And that’s what he’ll do. You’ll eventually say something he can use to make you calm down and try to get you to give them a chance to prove themselves to you.

And if that fails? Stockholm Syndrome will eventually kick in and that’ll be the perfect chance to strike.

Finally, Damian comes in after an hour after Jason’s rescue.

“Oh what fresh hell is this,” you wonder as he closes the door behind him.

“Hello, brother. How are you today”

As he expected, you go into a rage, spitting insults and swears at him.

Only when he pulls out you Mother’s pen do you stop, completely shocked at seeing him in possession of it.

He understands why you’re acting like there’s an active bomb in the room instead of him. The last time he held this pen…

He brushes the memory of the even aside. That won’t do him any good here.

“I’ve been holding onto it for you since the accident. The others wanted it placed in the vault, but I insisted I could protect it.”

You swipe it from him and he allows you, knowing that pen means more to you than anything. After all, he remembers how you responded when he took it.

Looking back on it, he should’ve respected you for standing up to him like that, not knowing what would happen to you.

“I know my past actions are reprehensible at best, but i hope you will allow me the opportunity to make amends with you, brother.”

When you two first met, he hated you because you were a threat to what he believed to be his birthright. And when he realized you were untrained in any form of combat or self defense, he deemed you an embarrassment to the Wayne lineage.

But after living with Father and his siblings, learning what it means to be a real family, he knows he has something the others never will: a brother bound to him by blood. Someone he’s connected to at the genetic level.

“We’re not brothers,” you say. “We may share DNA, but we’re not brothers. You made that clear when you gave me this scar.”

That scar will serve as a permanent reminder of his mistake. How he hurt someone he should’ve cherished. And he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to fix that mistake and make you see him as a brother, as someone you can trust, as someone you can love and be loved by.

You may have broken free of being held captive in your mind, but now you’re in another prison and your “loving family” are the wardens. And they have no intention of letting you go. One way or another, you’ll take you rightful place in the Wayne Family.

[littledeathdove]

Aah not enough content on crow wife out there :[ Maybe could you write Miranda and Donna (separately) general headcanons on how they would be like in a relationship?? please and thank you x3

AYYY got me a good ass request to yap on, love you for this anon 😙

Also i have to agree, my lovely wife Miranda just doesn’t have enough content on here. But I can’t complain at all since back in 2021-2023 there was barely even crumbs on both A03 and Tumblr, hell I had to go on wattpad at one point to satisfy my hunger on some content of her.

But anyway let’s get into this headcanons people 😈🙏🏾

WARNING; this isn’t read over yet since I wanted to post this already before I go to sleep, so there might be grammar errors, spelling mistakes. Honestly anything you’ll find in a non read over post 😅 I’ll check over it in the morning tho!

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚

(My favorite woman right here, UGH THE OBSESSION IS COMING BACK 😞 she so beautiful I need that crazy cookie BADLY)

Miranda in a relationship is obsessive, no questions or buts, that woman can and will know everything about you. I only make sense, there was only two occurrences in her life that made her love or gave her it. Eva and now you.

Miranda’s obsessiveness can be a inconvenience in your life sometimes, an examples are when she insists on knowing your every move — even though she refuses to skip out on her daily hours in the laboratory — which makes her have her crows follow you. Which wouldn’t be a problem if her crows wasn’t as playful as they are and if villagers didn’t act the way they did towards you just because of the many crows

Miranda in a relationship is spoiling, Miranda loves to spoil you endlessly, not that it’s surprising though I mean just look at how luxurious her whole outfit is. Plus Miranda’s crow ways makes her a default gift giver when it comes to love languages.

Your jewelry collection would go sky rocket, clothes? Oh don’t even need to ask twice because she’ll have Donna on speed call these days to tell her new requests of customized clothing. You’re a villager in the village and you always wanted to try some of that expensive Dimitrescu wine? It’s there just in time for dinner. So in summary, Miranda doesn’t play when it comes to fulfilling your wants

Don’t even get me started on how much it boasts Miranda’s ego when she comes out of her laboratory after long tiring hours and she sees her pretty little lover in the items she gifted them over time, one you haven’t seen dotting until you experienced that situation and two that sight is why she alwaysss willing to any amount of lei to get you what you want, you always look the prettiest in the things you wished for anyways

Speaking of that, Miranda in a relationship is a clingy lover. LISTEN, HEAR ME OUT PEOPLE

Miranda hasn’t had any romantic affection for a long time, so when you come around you are quite literally filling in an empty void so deep it can reach the mold spiritual underworld. At first it wouldn’t seem like Miranda would end up clingy, especially since she still does those simple physical touches like caressing your cheek or lingering touches. But after a few months (more likely weeks) and with the right opportunity, Miranda would just randomly hug you one day after dinner

Nothing too worrying since this is usual, but it quickly becomes unusual when she holds you in a tight and strong hug for at least a hour. And if you were to fall asleep like that, even worser since Miranda is the worst to try to get out of bed once she’s clingy

She doesn’t do much PDA unless she is trying to make out the point that you are hers to somebody around, but as I said that woman turns from a crow to a koala quickly

Miranda in a relationship is stubborn, she is used to being obeyed with little to no questioning so when you point out some harmful habits of hers that you noticed over time she is quick to silence you. She already knows what this recognization can lead to and that’s what she’s been dreading ever since the relationship started.

Miranda knows her poor habits but she also knows if she was to fix them it could lead to a set back in getting Eva back. So if you were to constantly mention these bad habits such as her refusing to give herself a break during research sessions, Miranda wouldn’t think of it as you worrying over her well being but instead you being ignorant to her life mission.

Even though it might seem impossible, getting Miranda to come around and finally take slow action into fixing her habits can happen. But it will take patience and an equal amount of stubbornness to help her do so. (And trust she will secretly thank you later on, specifically when she gets Eva back)

Miranda’s stubbornness can also show up in more lighter notes of your relationship, for example if she believed you needed to be more protected or watch after more she would take action of making sure that is done. And no, you won’t easily sway her to ease up on said actions thanks to her stubbornness.

Some little side thing(s); Once you’re in a relationship with Miranda you will notice changes in village cult. One being an uprising of pictures/portraits of you inside of the churches or really anywhere where pictures of Miranda or the lords are. The village folk are more adoring of you and kinder (if they weren’t before), simply because of your new found status of being the true lover of Mother Miranda. But the most major out of all of them is the change of Miranda’s priestess clothing. To cut to the case, Miranda now wears something symbolic to you or has embroidered a customized crest of your own along side the lords crest’s.

Some little side thing(s); Miranda never loved the whole pretty house wife thing since she was a mortal who likely had to experience it first hand in not the aesthetically pleasing way. Though this changed drastically once you came around. The first time Miranda saw you cooking her food after dragging her vocally out of her lab out of worry, Miranda knew she had found a new favorite thing and that was you looking/doing actions just like those pretty house wives.

Miranda isn’t afraid to share this to you, and she evens proposes that you do more actions to a house wife more. Hell it’s not like she was going to let you work anyway. After the talk, if you were to start do such things you would notice some differences in your routine. Aka, Miranda now actually comes out of her laboratory more throughout the day. Not to talk or anything, but instead to watch you cooking, cleaning, really doing anything around the house. Miranda always has a blank stare while she is watching you so you wouldn’t even be able to know for sure if she was satisfied or judging you. But behind that stare she is just imagining a full complete picture of you being just like this but instead taking care of Eva.

That scenario just pushes her to work even harder to get her Eva back.

Oh! Also if you weren’t to agree with the proposal at first, Miranda would likely just slowly ease you into agreement through some light manipulation tactics or something. Don’t forget that woman is still the calculating cold woman she was before. She’ll make sure to keep it almost fully to your will but if she must guide you to do what she wants to see done, trust she will.

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

(Now this one right here, my ideal type fr fr. I’m not even joking she quiet, she tall, she got an odd fixation on dolls, AND SHE LIL COO COO. Not to mention those hands and that voice?? yk let me stop before this becomes a rant on all the things I love about Donna here)

Donna in a relationship is cautious, well at the beginning of the relationship. I do believe Donna has her secret insecurities which makes her very slow to let down her walls and show vulnerability at first. Donna does have the belief that you will up and leave her somewhere in the near future, or even worse that you will slowly fall out of love with her if she shows one wrong trait.

Another worry of Donna’s is that you are taking advantage of her love just so you can take the in the benefits that might come with Donna. For example her riches? The fact people will respect you more since you’re with a lord. Honestly in general it’s basically any benefits from her being a lord of the village

These beliefs and worries makes her keep most of her secrets hidden, and puts her in a mind space where she believes she must keep a mask on. She will purposely be more quiet around you though she will still act on the want to be constantly around you. If your conversations were to be heading in the direction of a soft spot that could crack this mask, Donna would carefully vaguely answer the question before quickly guiding it away from the subject with her own question/words.

And back to the whole taking advantage of. If Donna had a thought about this during the day you will notice Angie asking you questions a lot more. And they’re particularly over your relationship with Donna and what made you even want one with her or what you enjoy about being with quiet lord. 

On worser days, Donna would go as far into only speaking through Angie…as she did before your relationship. And if you were to get more persistent in getting questions out of her or simply trying to get her to be more open with you, Donna wouldn’t be hesitant to put you under a peaceful delusion that would lure you to sleep. (Sometimes if she is feeling a lot of strong emotions from your questions she could accidentally put a bad delusion over you)

Don’t worry it isn’t always like this, after a few months and loving affection from you Donna does come around and starts to let her guard down around you. This also marks the true lover out of her. Because after those doubts and worries leave it’s just like a barrier being removed from a waterfall, and all that’s coming down for the future in this relationship is just love. So much of it

Donna in a relationship is possessive, I don’t know what your beliefs are but truly I believe that Donna’s possessive behavior can be 10x worser than Miranda’s. Miranda knows she has no challenge when it comes to your heart, I mean who will actually challenge her? Try to taker her lover or even yearn after them in her village? No one. And this can also apply to Donna since she is quite the feared lord in the village who is known for killing anyone who even steps foot on her property. With that said, no one would truly be trying to actively make you fall in love with them or claim your heart, but somehow Donna doesn’t see this and does believe someone would try.

Donna’s possessive can be quite a fucking situation. For one her possessiveness doesn’t go up in levels, no no it just immediately rises to the top level especially in the beginning of the relationship. The top of the level is her basically putting you on house arrest in her mansion. She’ll give you many excuses if she isn’t in the mood to explain her true reasoning, and if you constantly ask her to go outside she’ll let you.

Well you’ll make it to the edge of the front yard and then there you are put under a delusion of maybe monsters like the lycans charging around and maybe even chasing you back to her property where she can place you in her arms to comfort you. Whispering in your ear how she’s got you and why this is a reason of why your not allowed outside for “now”

Donna in a relationship is VERYYY romantic, don’t get me started on my headcanon that she is or at least was the biggest book worm during her time of isolation after her parents died. That girl was not only rich but she was adopted by Miranda, who I wouldn’t doubt used this love of Donna’s to make her more comfortable with her (which will make it easier to make her a vessel later on).

Anyway I do believe Donna would’ve put herself deeply in romantic books when she hit the age of a teenager. Donna obviously wouldn’t have been able to experience romance during isolation, but Donna would allow herself to place herself in the main characters shoes and feel the experience of romance through that outlet. Donna would daydream of creative dates, gifts she would make and give, giving her lover princess treatment and receiving it 10x more back.

Oh, and you better believe that Donna does all of what she wanted to do for so long with you. When I’m saying that woman will having you truly believing that romance have never been died but you just haven’t met her yet, I’m being so honest. For some dates Donna would quite literally kick you out of the house and make you spend time in the garden as she cooks the most best meal she finds ideal for a date. She loves dates where it ends in you both laughing up a storm, it’s her favorite thing of a date honestly.

Some little side thing(s); Donna isn’t good at communication with you know the whole toxic “family” dynamic she’s in and her trauma. But Donna does understand that communication is necessary since she has read stories where she noticed a character complaining about the lack of it within their relationship or simply noticing herself once she had the skills to see the bad flaw causing a distance between lovers in stories.

Donna doesn’t want that to happen between you and her at all! She will absolutely abandon all her morals and power before she loses the love of her life over something so preventable.

So Donna decided one day that she will make a monthly habit of her cooking up some sweet small deserts and making some tea so then you both could sit down and talk to each other about anything you want over your relationship. Donna might not always have a good reaction to your words especially if you say words that could hint at you falling out of love with her or wanting to leave her. But she does try! And she’ll constantly do so as long as she can keep the treasure she calls a lover.

I apologize for how long this took! I usually try to fulfill requests as soon as I get them but I’ve been busy these past weeks.

Please don’t let this discourage you from requesting though because I’ll absolutely fulfill any requests I get over resident evil village no matter how long it takes!

Anyway I hope this post satisfied the requester! Honestly I believe I could’ve made better headcanons but I truly didn’t want to overthink it and procrastinate. Donna’s is shorter then Miranda’s, shows who I’m more used to writing lol 💀 Thank you to anon for this request, believe this is like my first ever Miranda/Donna headcanon request ever so I was too excited to see it 🫶🏾

Umm that’s it little dove out ✌🏾