#was the weak place and the breaking place for them

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Dialogue Tags Aren’t the Problem, Your Dialogue Rhythm Is

friendly reminder that the word “said” did not kill your scene.

you don’t need to replace every line of dialogue with “he rasped” or “she intoned” or “they gasped breathlessly” (please no). your dialogue is not dying because of your tags. it’s dying because the rhythm is off.

👀 let me explain:

✨ what is dialogue rhythm?

it’s the flow of speech between characters. the beats. the pacing. the way words bounce, interrupt, cut off, trail, clash. it’s less about the words themselves and more about the energy they carry.

dialogue rhythm is what makes two people arguing feel like a boxing match, or a confession feel like a car crash. it’s how you keep tension in the room. if your rhythm sucks, no amount of fancy tags is gonna save you.

🔪 signs your dialogue rhythm is off:

every character is speaking in full, polished sentences like it’s a staged play

nobody ever interrupts, stammers, hesitates, or doubles back

the emotional pace stays flat, even in high-stakes scenes

all the action beats are “he nodded” “she smiled” “they looked at her” over and over

you read it out loud and it feels like a middle school skit

👂 here’s how to fix it:

Read your dialogue out loud. Like, actually out loud. if it sounds robotic, it is robotic. listen for places where people would realistically pause, ramble, get cut off, or trail off. insert those beats. add the mess.

Use white space and formatting to control speed. short lines = fast pace. long blocks = slow burn. a line break right before someone says something unhinged? elite move. example: “You really think I’d betray you?” Pause. “You already did.”

Cut 30% of your dialogue. if you can remove the line and nothing breaks, it was filler. chop chop. more silence = more tension. not every reply needs a full answer.

Let action interrupt speech. don’t wait for the character to finish talking before you show what they’re doing. intercut body language or physical actions mid-line. it mimics how people actually talk. like this: “Don’t touch that—” she lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. “—you don’t know what it is.”

Stop overexplaining with tags. you don’t need to say “she shouted angrily” if the line is literally “GET OUT.” trust the line. if the dialogue’s strong, “said” works just fine. if the dialogue’s weak, “murmured” won’t save it.

🛑 but what about dialogue tags?

use them! but treat them like punctuation, not prose. the goal is clarity, not ✨flair✨. you want the reader to know who’s speaking without noticing the machinery.

“Said” is invisible. “Snarled” is a spice. Use spices sparingly.

better yet: mix tags with beats to keep rhythm tight. example:

BAD: “I hate you,” he said angrily. “I hate you,” she snapped back.

BETTER: “I hate you,” he said, jaw clenched. She didn’t even blink. “Good. Then we’re even.”

💡 TL;DR: your scene doesn’t need fancy tags. it needs movement. conflict. silence. interruptions. character-specific tone. you fix that by fixing the rhythm, not the verbs.

go back to your WIP, open your messiest conversation scene, and test it. read it aloud. break it up. cut what drags. add one beat of silence. give someone a half-finished sentence and a reason to storm out.

watch how fast it starts to breathe.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

[c0sm1cp0tat0]

Yandere! Saja Boys x Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

A part of you hadn't expected for them to still be lounging in your bed when you came back out. Your attire was less than professional; a lilac cami top and shorts. Your favourite pyjama set. A fluffy white towel over your damp locks of hair, that fell forward into your large dark eyes.

Blank faced and confused, you look at them. They were staring at you like you had given them everything they could ever want. Your lashes were actually still damp as well. That was annoying. You rub at your eye.

"Fuuuuuuuu--" Abby couldn't finish the word. Let alone the scentence. Beni slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Sexy." He spoke instead, deep voice breaking on the word.

Roman was on full panick mode. "Ah, fuck fuck fuck I want to see her eat like that-- Oh my god." Correction, he wanted to eat YOU like that but he didn't want to scare.

Jinu was staring blankly. He snapped out of it and made room on the bed and opened the pizza box back up.

"Care for a slice?" You wanted to say no. How on earth do demons know all the good places?

You stepped forward but were tackled by Malak. "Ahh!!" The small of your back slammed against the closed bathroom door. He brought his face closer and closer to yours until you realized what was being hinted at; the damn kisses he was promised. Fuck.

The others groaned in jealousy. Your waist was in his large arms. He was leaning down. You were, as always, alarmed.

"Wait-- right now?? Can we not--"

Too late, his lips were on yours. And it didn't start slow or anything. His lips were already moving. Fast and hard. You were straining yourself on keeping your mouth closed and your eyes open. But that would only draw out the process.

So, with a whimper, you let Mystery in.

The latter was on cloud nine. During the weeks that you stayed with them, he'd gotten some sort of oral fixation exclusive to you, his mouth needed to be on you, against you, without breaking apart for as long as possible. Now, he finally got his chance. You were caught in a snare, unable to even resist because of a promise made on your behalf.

Six minutes later, you were struggling to breathe through your nose. Your eyes were watering. Mystery, unknowingly had let the mouth part of him turn to its demonic form due to his need to taste more of you. his tongue had grown. Long and wide and was filling your cheeks. It was down your throat, absoulutely slithering, blocking airways.

You couldn't open your eyes. When you did, you saw spots. You tried and tried to pull away. He was too strong. When you did get away for a split second and gulped in a huge breath of air,

"Back, now." His voice dragged out in a snarl, guttural and bestial as he squeezes your face in one large palm to yank you back.

He's got you pushed down on the bed now, body weight crushing yours as his hips grinds on you. His elbows dug into the mattress on either sides of your head, fingers laced on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your own small hands gripped onto the back of his shirt for dear life, tugging in an attempt to convey you wanted him off.

Your muffled whines of protests were lost on him, too busy eating your face to care. Whenever you gagged on his tongue, he moaned and pushed it in deeper. Sending your body convulsing. All he could hear was your cute little whines and whimpers under him. He was feral.

When he finally, finally pulled back, your head was already thrown back, gulping in huge gulps of air, eyes reeling.

You didn't have time. When your boyfriend had died, you'd had too much time. Now you had too little. Every second you had to be on the ready. To dodge to kick and fight amd snark.

The Saja Boys kept you on your toes.

But right now, you were too helpless to even roll out of the way as Jinu took you up by the armpits as if you were a simple child. On his lap, you were seated. Your throat, which was raw from convulsing and being sucked over by Malak's tongue, was also too weak to convey your words properly.

"Wh-at-- are you do-ing??"

The ravenette smiled down at you. A cheesy, lovesick grin. A large pizza slice in his hand with the tip at your lips. The aromatic food was still warm, but not too warm. It smelled heavenly.

"Feeding you"

Oh no. Nonononono. This was not happening. You squirmed. He tightened his hold until your ribcage could barely move even to take breaths.

"Stop tryna take care of me, I'm not a child." You choked out after stilling.

Baby snickered. You glared at him. What are you laughing about, asshole? Look at your stage name.

Romance leaned forward and looked you dead in the eye. He was never this serious. Propped up forcefully in Jinu's lap like this, you were at eye level.

"Sweetheart, we don't know what your life was like before. As of now, we're going to take care of you. And you're going to take it all."

You flinched. But you were the one who always did the taking care of!! You were their manager. When you had your boyfriend, it was always you taking care of him. Its always that way. Always should stay that way.

Roman's promise sounded like a threat.

Abbott read your expression right away. His grin widened, "Oh you poor thing," He crooned, wicked. Sinister. "How are you going to escape now? You have five of us pining for you. And we're intent on spoiling you rotten with love and affection. Whether you want it or not." He hadn't even bothered to button his shirt, leaned back against your headboard with his arms folded behind his head, those intimidating biceps flexed.

You whimpered, legs squirming on instinct to back yourself up. To no avail, as you realised you were still in your position in Jinu's lap. He gave you a squeeze that was supposed to be reassuring but was mostly threatening. How could Abby, so dumb and sweet to the general public, sound so all-knowing and frightening to you?

"Come now, [Y/N]. One slice like this, and I'll let you eat the rest on your own." Jinu murmured way too sensually for your feeling safe.

You narrowed your eyes up at him. One slice? Not one bite would you take out of his hand. You struggled. You kicked and squirmed. You were weak from the kiss. That annoyed you further. So at one point you decided to take the extreme measure of biting his arm.

Which was a mistake

Because he let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard. You immediately retracted your teeth from his arm, deciding to never do that again.

And, in the end, they got what they wanted.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦��♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

The fan meet scheduled the very next week was insane. It was like the numbers who usually attended had doubled- no- tripled. And your profits had quadrupled.

Your table was more of a desk, out to the very side so that you could easily notify bodyguards of sasaengs, crazy fans who would try reach out and grab what they weren't offered or took pictures without permission.

But today, when you looked up from your desk, you were mortified to see a steady line of people growing. In front of you was a young woman, perhaps your own age. Younger, maybe.

"[Y/N]~?? I'm your biggest fan!! Sign my shirt??"

You swore there were actual tears of joy in her eyes as she pleaded with you. Dumbstruck, you looked down to her shirt to see a 4k print of one of your photos with Mystery. You yelped, scrambling back in your chair. "T-There's merch of this stuff??"

The girl in front of you squealed. You jumped. She smiled sheepishly "Your reaction was just so cute!!"

"Awww~ She's flustered everybody!!" One male fan called out and the entire room was filled with swooning noises. You stared, blanking out. What was going on??

The members leaned out to the side to watch. Roman and Abbott regarded you with these lovesick grins. Baby and Jinu had on cocky, complacent smirks. Malak was blank, but when he caught sight of the fan, he eagerly held up the shirt that he was signing to show you that it was an exact copy of the one that your fan possessed. You stared.

"Don't look so scared just by this. Those are in mass production. There's edits online of you with each of the boys and they have millions of views." The bodyguard standing next to you had the kindness to fill you in on all the atrocities happening to your name as he spoke.

"I don't really...have to...sign this. Do I??"

"Oh pleeeaaase [Y/N]. Pleeeaaase?? We love you so much!!" The fan was pleading by now. It was crazy, because she was being so respectful and you were just the manager.

Not knowing what to do, you hate to say you got a bit cranky. You rubbed your eyes. That action by itself sent waves of coos and giggles throughout the signing hall. You sat up rigid, not used to your actions causing a chain reaction.

Even this was not let slide. "She's not used to the fame!! I wish I could hug her!!"

A male fan shouts out, "I'm going to sue you [Y/N]!! Dangerous woman, you're stealing my heart!!"

The girl before you ignored that, continuing, "But...if you don't want to sign it...I guess its fine..." No it wasn't, her voice was going pillowy and sad by the second.

Okay, okay okay. [Y/N], focus. This isn't just going to sail by. You had to get through this. So you took a breath, smiled pleasantly at the girl and signed her top. She jumped excitedly. You supressed a flinch at her ecstatic movements.

You, surprisingly, had quite the chats with the fans before you. Though there were so many questions filling your head the whole time. You were gifted an assortment of headbands. Sweets. Drawings of you...and the members. But there were also wholesome moments that made your heart clench.

"My mum takes care of me the way you take care of the Saja Boys. I like you, [Y/N]." One little girl tells you, her voice sweet as she looks up at you over the desk.

The widest smile spread your lips at that. You swore you heard a camera clicking near you when you smiled. It didn't matter.

And then, there was that one. Damned. Question. That kept circulating and coming back to you.

"[Y/N], out of all the Saja boys who clearly like you so much, who do you prefer?" None.

"See, I'm just their manager. I respect them all the same." They giggled. You were clearly denying any sort of romance with the boys.

Your replies were pretty much the same all around.

"Who do you like better, [Y/N]?? I think you look so adorable between Abby and Jinu!!" They're the worst, no thanks.

"My bias is Baby!! Who's yours, [Y/N]??"

"Your pictures with Jinu had me squealing all night!! Which ones did you prefer better!?"

"[Y/N], how many times do you kiss Romance per day? Your favourite is totally him!! Right?? Right!!??"

....it could get intense.

You were exhausted. You went straight to Jinu after.

"How did the fans get through the barrier to me?? And why did you let them??"

He shrugged, "They were willing to pay double to meet you."

And you, the manager, knew nothing about this beforehand?? It was like he could read your mind.

"The pictures blew up while you were sleeping. They find you adorable. Like Baby, but without the snark. You're kinda like one of us now."

'One of us.'

'One of us.'

It rung in your mind. You stared at him but not really at him. More like, into space.

"I don't want to be." You suddenly burst out an hour later while submerged between them and the couch. It was this habit they had of dragging you everywhere in the house with them to do stuff. When you tried to run? A click of the fingers and they could merely teleport wherever you were headed to bring you back.

"Be what?" Beni asked patiently, aquamarine locks on your arm as he snuggled into it.

"One of you."

The barrier that seperated you and the Boys as their manager previously was now blurring according to the fans. You were not liking it. You were afraid.

"It's not that deep." Abby shrugged.

"Its very deep." You stood up and grabbed your bag, ready to take off.

For once, they remained slouched on the couch, letting you.

10 minutes later you were in your own bed, rocking back and forth. This was driving you mad. You'd never wanted to be famous. You didn't need this kind of attention while you were still grieving the passing of a loved one. You'd held up your front today. But how much longer could you hold out??

Your friends were blowing up your phone. You were on one of those front page articles online; 'Unestablished female member of Saja??' 'Saja Boys not just boys anymore??'

You scrolled down more, and there was another article. One that made your eyes widen. A picture of a man from the fan meet. Specifically, the one who'd yelled up at you from the crowd. Under the highlighted words, 'Found dead'.

'This is the most recent picture taken of everyday accountant, Baek Jiseok before he was encountered lifeless in an alleyway. Right after fan meet with Saja Boys.'

Your eyebrows furrowed. You gulped. Tears welling in your eyes. You knew all too well how difficult it is to lose someone.

Even you missed him. The random fan of yours that you ignored in the meet.

"That's awful." You murmured, trailing shaky fingers down his photo. There was something more awful yet. There was a murderer on the loose

"What's wrong [Y/N]?"

"Ahh!!" You jumped violently at the sudden purr of a deep voice in your ear. Jinu stood behind you, leaned into you. He had with him his gigantic demon cat. Standing on the cat was the three-eyed magpie. You liked that magpie. Sassy queen. His three eyes could see all, but he mostly just used it to give the members dirty side looks. It was brilliant. But he was also a motif of how truly inhuman Jinu and the rest of them were. Of the power and imbalance they wielded against you.

You'd seen them around. The cat always approached you, curious. But you were always too frightened to let it get near. Now you'd seen them both so much, you didn't really mind. All it did was come up close and nuzzle it's head to your small palm.

"He really likes you."

"One of your fans died."

His gaze lowered downwards towards your screen, "No, one of your fans died." His eyes were glowing gold. You felt shivers down your spine. You failed to recognize why.

"Are you not sad? Even a little?"

He did the thing you least expected in this situation. He smiled. A warm, ominous smile. As if nothing was wrong and all was well.

"Guys like him deserve to die. He shouted out at you so crassly during the fansign." The way he coiled around your small form was reminiscient of the twined vines of poison ivy that encircled a delicate pretty flower, preventing anyone, anything from taking it away from its rightful place.

Pulling you down to your worst ever nightmare.

He was without a shirt, demon patterns showing. He was exposing his full self to you. As if silently beseeching you to accept him. Accept them.

You could almost hear it. The agonized beggings and pleadings of the fan. The man; somebody's significant other. A brother. A father, maybe. As he implored them to let him live, that he didn't mean to shout his love to you. You, who was already taken.

"Do you hear it? It was all for you. That's how much we like you. We want you so much, [Y/N]. How could you detest us so blatantly like this?" He pressed benign kisses to your cheek. Each of them blooming over your skin like small catastrophes.

"Get it out. Get it out of my head!! GET IT OUT!!" You screamed, clawing at your head. You didn't want to hear, to see what was done in your name. Their love was a calamity. A tainting. A contamination.

Jinu clicked his fingers. The live audio of your former-fan's suffering and screams dissapeared in an instant from your head.

You cried. You leaned over and cried. They had told you many times the insane things they would do for you. They'd told you before that they would kill for you. But you didn't know, you'd never fathomed they would actually-- Fuck. You burst into fresh, heart-wrenching sobs.

Jinu hushed you and hugged you. He kissed you. He gave you words. "Everything will be fine, [Y/N], this doesn't need to affect anything."

It was affecting things for him. Not negatively. Gwi-ma was delighted about the fresh young souls being rained down on their realm, empowering him.

You finally looked up at him, into his molten gold eyes, and tried not to let your voice break on a sob as you spoke.

"How many?? How many have you killed!??"

He looked at you dumbstruck as if you'd caught him off guard with a difficult maths equation. "You...want me to count??"

There were so many, though. Men, and women who would look down at your darling form funny on the street. Whether it'd be in a patronizing way or an overly admiring way. Waiters who'd wink and slip you their phone number. Baristas, the same. You were an attractive person but you didn't realize it.

Poor naïve thing, had you not noticed the huge spike in numbers of people gone missing?? Namely around your area.

He looked apologetic. Not for what he'd done, but for the sole fact that he couldn't offer you a number. "I'd tell you, but even then, the boys have also done stuff that they haven't told me. They have a shorter temper than me, you see." Especially when it came to you.

Dazed and horrified, you just kept looking at him. He held you tighter, nuzzling himself into you. So did his blue tiger. It's purrs vibrated your whole body as it pressed it's head into your stomach. Together, they created some sort of a soft coocoon around you. A guilded cage.

To say in short, honey, you're cooked.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

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[insanebookreader]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬- 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝

Warnings: Slightly suggestive and tooth achingly sweet. GENDER NEUTRAL!

-Glasses Reid falls asleep with his glasses on, more so when he naps and you have to gently slip them off so he doesn't break them.

-Glasses Reid quickly takes his glasses off when you catch him staring in awe at you, claiming "How can I be staring at you if I don't even have my glasses on that I need to see?" (He knows he sounds ridiculous)

-Glasses Reid who watches any of the movies/shows that you beg him to watch with you because..how could he not? He loved you endlessly and would do anything for you if it meant it made you happy. (And he also loves getting extra couch cuddling time)

-Glasses Reid who smiles cockily when you pout from losing- yet another- poker game and/or chess game to him (But then of course he wipes the pout off your lips with a sweet kiss)

-Glasses Reid who blushes so much, he might as well be a tomato when you giggle at his fogged up glasses from you two making out. (But he also was already red from the noises he drew from you and the feel of your lips and hands on him in itself.)

-Glasses Reid who chases your lips with his when he starts to feel you pull away, a small (cute) whine leaving his lips as he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. (He knows how much they affect you)

-Glasses Reid who takes advantage of his puppy eyes ever since you told him they make you weak in the knees. Using them to get what he wants, which works almost every single time. (He swears he's innocent every time you try to call him out.) "Who? Me?" Then he'd kiss you to distract you, like his lips were one of his magic tricks that made you forget what you were bickering about in the first place.

-Glasses Reid who whines and whimpers. That's it.

-Glasses Reid who loves to ramble to you on and on about everything and anything you'd allow him to because you actually indulge and listen to his rants. He loves to ramble to you about things he loves or even the research he did (you don't know how or when) on the things you love.

-Glasses Reid who loves reading books to you while he runs his hand through your hair, your head on his lap, a record playing in the background.

-Glasses Reid who absolutely melts when you use his tie to pull him into a kiss, swearing you were both an angel and the devil himself in one.

-Glasses Reid who gets extremely shy and red the first time he saw you in your undergarments, immediately becoming a flushed mess. (Though he immediately couldn't keep his hands off you.)

-And Glasses Reid who just loves you with every fibre of his body, he doesn't even know how it's physically possible. He'd do anything for you (and I mean anything) but he also carries a heavy amount of fear of ever losing you because of the dangers his job inevitably ensues. But you alway comfort and assure him that "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm right here, love."

(I love Glasses Reid and love him in general- love me, love me, love me please. 🖤🙏🏽)

Do what lovely Matthew said up above please! xxx

©2025 INSANEBOOKREADER

[freakmcnastyy]

Weak Hero Boys x P!Reader Headcanons

Weak Hero Class boys x pregnant!reader (fluff)

Includes: Geum Seongjae,Na Baekjin, Ahn Suho, Yeon Si-eun, Kang Woo-young, Oh Beom-seok, Go Hyuntak, Park Humin (Baku)

Note: This was an anon request! AND GOD, I swear writing — let alone reading — stuff like this makes me feel all kinds of weird. And I wrote each character at a different time of day so they wouldn’t all feel the same. Hope I pulled it off.

⸻

Geum Seongjae

1. The Moment He Finds Out:

Silence. He just stares. Then his lip twitches.

The second you tell him you’re pregnant, Seongjae goes quiet for a few seconds. He looks unbothered on the outside, but you know a thousand things are racing through his head. In that moment, his whole “world” shifts.

“I knew no one else could ever give me something like this.”

He says it softly, but something breaks in his eyes — like the idea of ever letting you go has become completely impossible.

2. Possessiveness:

Obsession. Protection. Paranoia.

He’s not just protecting you anymore, but everything you’re carrying inside you. Even the tiniest bit of stress is enough reason for him to lock you in the house. If someone bumps into you by accident? Seongjae might beat them up in the middle of the street without a second thought.

“I better not see you cry again. I’m dead serious.”

Even the dark circles under your eyes feel like a personal insult to him.

3. Physical Obsession:

He’s obsessed with your belly. Every time he talks to you, his hand goes there like a reflex. At night, he lays his head against it and whispers things to the baby. He starts acting like a “family” way before the baby’s even born — but not in a normal way.

“There’s a piece of me inside you. That means you don’t get to leave. Ever.”

4. Jealousy & Going Insane:

Another guy checking you out while you’re pregnant? Your best friend trying to take you out of the house? It’s all a problem. At some point, he might even try to hide the fact that you’re pregnant altogether.

“Don’t wear that. There’s no reason to show your stomach like that. People don’t need to see. That’s mine.”

5. Random Kindness Spikes:

He’ll suddenly start talking about baby room ideas, sweet little dreams, out of nowhere. In those moments he seems normal, like a regular excited dad — but there’s always a breakdown bubbling underneath.

“If it’s a girl, you can name her. But if it’s a boy… I’ll decide.”

6. Before & After the Birth:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more controlling he becomes. He chooses the hospital, who’s allowed in the room, even the nurse that’s going to be with you.

“If anything goes wrong… someone’s paying for it. Got it?”

And after the birth? He isolates you, the baby, and himself like it’s a three-person world. He wants to build everything from zero — just you three.

“It’s only us now. Everyone else out there is dangerous. What else do I need to do to make you understand that?”

⸻

Na Baekjin

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. He masks his emotions, but his pupils shake. After you tell him, he holds your gaze — and stays exactly the same. Cold. Serious. Neither happy nor mad. Then he lowers his head a little.

“Is it mine?”

He trusts you. He does. But he still asks — not because he doubts you, but because he wants to believe so bad it physically hurts. And maybe… because he hates himself a little too much.

2. He Doesn’t Say “I Can’t Be a Dad,” but…

Responsibility? That’s not something he’s ever believed he deserved. He tells himself, “Someone like me can’t raise a child.” But he still parks outside your place every night, just watching. Making sure nothing happens.

“Don’t be alone. I’m behind you like a shadow — just act like I’m not there.”

3. His Way of Protecting You:

Silent. Brutal. Shadowed. Baekjin never publicly claims you. But anyone who threatens you? They start disappearing one by one. He’s given a silent order across the whole Union.

“If anyone even thinks about getting close to her — they better have their grave ready.”

4. How He Sees the Pregnancy:

It’s guilt mixed with obsession. When he sees your belly, his eyes freeze for a second. Because there’s a life inside you — his life — and he’s still struggling to believe something so pure could come from someone like him.

“If I were someone cleaner… maybe we could’ve really had this together.”

Still, his hands always go to your stomach. Every time he touches you, it’s careful. Gentle. Like he thinks you might break.

5. He Cuts You Off From the World:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more he isolates you. Friends? Family? Opinions? None of it matters to him.

“I don’t care what anyone says. If something happens to you… I’ll burn the f*cking world down.”

6. “Family” Becomes Real for the First Time:

Baekjin never had warmth growing up. Never had a real home. But now? Now the idea of building a house — not a place, but a feeling — with you and the baby is something he clings to in the dark. One night, he says without thinking:

“If someone had hugged me growing up… maybe I could’ve loved as good as you do.”

7. After the Baby’s Born:

He’s a wall. Cold, distant. But always there. He won’t hold the baby and coo over it, no. But he stands by the crib at night while you sleep, silently watching the tiny hand curled around his finger.

“Would it be okay… if I picked the name?”

⸻

Ahn Suho

1. When He Finds Out:

Shocked. Eyes wide. “Wait, what? Are you serious?! We’re PREGNANT?!”

At first, it doesn’t compute. He asks you to repeat it like three times. Then his hands start shaking. He might even tear up.

“I’m… I’m gonna be a dad? For real?!”

His first reaction is pure joy — mixed with straight-up panic. He wants to pick you up and spin you around, but the moment you say “Stop, I’m nauseous!” he freezes and immediately puts you down.

2. Ridiculously Affectionate:

He flips into “mom mode” in two seconds. Tries cooking for you, watches YouTube videos on pregnancy massages, double-checks every corner of the house like “is this safe for her? for the baby?”

“No more junk food. Less salt. Sit down, feet up. This baby’s not stressing you out!”

3. Fighting His Own Demons:

Deep down, he thinks, “I didn’t have a good childhood… what if I mess this up too?”

But he never says it out loud. He just holds you at night and whispers to your belly:

“If I raise this baby with someone like you… maybe I won’t mess it up.”

4. Emotional Rollercoaster:

Your hormones? Yeah, his are worse. You cry, he cries. You snap, he sulks — but then brings you a fruit bowl with a pouty face. One time, you probably ended up ugly crying together while eating stuffed grape leaves.

5. Silent Jealousy:

If he sees you talking to another guy? His whole vibe shifts. He won’t say anything, but the pout, the slumped shoulders, the quiet little stares — they’re all there.

“Go out if you want, just… wear something warm. And text me. At every step. I just— I worry, okay?”

6. The Birth Itself:

Sweating. Shaking. Crying. Loving. If they let him in the room, he’s right there, holding your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. If they don’t — he’s on his knees outside the door, praying like his whole soul’s in it.

“You’re both okay, right? Please… that’s all I need.”

⸻

Yeon Si-eun

1. When He Finds Out:

His brain literally freezes for a second before it starts processing. When you say “I’m pregnant,” Si-eun just stares at you in silence. No yelling. No running. No hugs. His hands tremble a little.

“How long has it been? Are you okay? How many weeks?”

He hides his emotions — but every question screams, “I’m scared to death of losing you.”

2. Switches to Practical, Strategic Dad Mode:

Hospital? Booked. Doctor? Researched. Nutrition? Charted. Stress? Monitored.

“You’re not eating anything on this list. I’m serious.”

But also:

“But… if you’re craving something… I kinda snuck in a little chocolate. Please don’t be mad.”

3. He Suppresses Emotion, But Never Leaves You Alone:

He didn’t grow up with love, so he genuinely has no clue how to treat you or the baby. But one thing’s for sure: he’s not going anywhere.

He’s not the jealous type — but he is controlling. He won’t say “who did you hang out with?” but he’ll definitely check your phone later and mentally profile anyone who could hurt you.

“Don’t see anyone who might stress you out. Please. Not for me — for our child.”

⸻

Kang Woo-young

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. Eyes on the floor. Then suddenly, his breath catches. He doesn’t say a word at first — just stares blankly. But if you look closely, you’ll see he literally forgot how to breathe.

“…I’m gonna be a dad?”

His voice shakes, but he tries to play it off. His jaw clenches.

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll figure this out. Just give me a little time.”

And then he leaves — not because he doesn’t care, but because he never planned to build a family. It was always just you and him. But later that night, he comes back. Finds you asleep, puffy-eyed from crying. Slips into bed behind you, holds you tight, buries his face in your neck.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone. No matter what… I’m here.”

2. Shows Love Through Actions, Not Words:

He can’t cook soup, but he’ll leave water by your bed every night. He can’t write you poetry, but he’ll tie your shoelaces without a word. And the first time your belly starts to show, his eyes well up.

“God, this is so weird. But so beautiful.”

3. Protection Style:

Quiet But Deadly.

Someone bumped into you? Woo-young doesn’t say a word. But a few days later, you’ll hear that guy got beat half to death in some underground ring.

He promises no more fights — “for the baby.” But of course he still does it.

4. Obsessed With Your Belly — But Too Shy To Show It:

His eyes keep drifting to your stomach when he talks to you. But he’s too shy to touch it. One night, you place his hand there — and he literally forgets how to breathe. His fingers tremble.

“Did you really love me this much?”

That night, for the first time, he rests his head on your belly and whispers for hours:

“Don’t be like your mom. She’s too soft. This world’s harsh.”

5. Emotional Breakdowns: Silent Crying:

As your pregnancy progresses, every time he feels like he’s not doing enough, tears fall. But he hides in the bathroom so you won’t see.

“I have to be strong. For both of you.”

6. Day of the Birth:

Looks like he just stepped out of a street fight. Doesn’t yell at the doctors, but the fire in his eyes says enough.

7. Fatherhood:

He can’t stop the baby from crying. Can’t change a diaper right. But every single night, he stays up beside the crib. He lets you cry in his lap without saying a word.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here. Always.”

⸻

Oh Beom-seok

1. When He Finds Out:

Stares blankly. He thinks you’re joking at first.

“Wait… are you serious? From me? Like, really…?”

Then his voice breaks. His eyes fill up, but he tries not to cry. Honestly? His world crashes down. Because his dad… well, you know. And it’s not about what’ll happen to him — it’s the fear of something happening to you or the baby.

“I’m gonna… be a dad?”

His voice cracks saying it. Because his father made sure the word “dad” left a scar on his soul.

2. Wants To Run — But Can’t:

In his head: “I’m someone who doesn’t know love, who grew up on violence, who shuts everyone out. What do I have to do with someone like you?”

But leaving you would be death to him. So instead, he goes quiet. Closes in on himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you… so I might keep my distance for a while. But I won’t leave. I promise.”

3. Blames Himself Deeply:

Lays in bed staring at the ceiling every night.

“What if I turn out like him? What if I am him?”

4. Hyper Emotional, Super Fragile:

Every time you’re tired, he blames himself. Don’t feel like eating? He tears up, thinking he messed something up.

“I can’t stand seeing you upset. I’ve already been so awful… don’t turn into me.”

To him, your pregnant body feels sacred. Sometimes he can’t even touch you.

“You’re carrying something inside you now. I don’t even wanna accidentally hurt you. I’m scared.”

6. The Birth:

He breaks. Shaking. Sitting in some hospital hallway, hands covering his face, sobbing like the world’s ending.

“Please… God, please don’t take her from me.”

7. Fatherhood:

Slow, but deeply tender. Doesn’t know how to hold a baby. But watches over yours every second of the night. Talks to the baby while you sleep.

And one day, watching the two of you together — he smiles. For the first time. A real, slow, genuine smile.

“I thought I had no place in this world. But… you gave me a room in it.”

⸻

Go Hyun-tak

1. When He Finds Out:

This man goes feral. In a good way. Just stands there with this shocked, joy-filled smile, completely speechless. Then suddenly:

“Wait WHAT? OUR baby? PROJECT LEBRON JAMES BEGINS!”

2. Protective Soft Side Comes Out:

He shows up for every single doctor’s appointment. Tries to learn everything he can. At home, he leaves little surprises — hot soup, a fruit plate, a stack of pillows. But he does it shyly, almost embarrassed.

“You feeling okay matters more to me than anything.”

3. His Excitement Is Contagious:

Shopping for the baby? He treats it like a mission. Toys, clothes, the perfect paint color for the nursery — he’s got opinions.

“Our baby’s gonna sleep in the nicest room on the block, alright?”

4. Tiny Panic Attacks — But He Bounces Back:

He sometimes spirals like “what if we’re not ready?” But then breathes in, looks at you, and says:

“We’re in this together. No matter what. We’ve got this.”

5. Jealousy Is Soft & Silly:

Sees you chatting with another guy? Pouts a little. Then immediately smiles again.

“Sorry… I just. You’re kinda my whole world.”

6. Birth Time = Full Support Mode:

He’s right beside you, holding your hand, hyping you up with every push.

“You’re strong. I’m right here.”

When the baby cries for the first time, he’s standing right there, trying to feed it with trembling hands.

“Look at our tiny Lebron James.”

7. Dives Into Dad Life Fast:

He’s hungry to learn. Wakes up for every night feeding, writes down every little milestone.

“We’re building something new. You, me, and our baby. It’s gonna be amazing.”

⸻

Park Humin (Baku)

1. When He Finds Out:

He screams. For real. Like he just scored the game-winning goal in the final second. Pure, goofy, chaotic happiness.

2. A Little Insecure:

His relationship with his dad? Yeah. Complicated as hell. He’s terrified of telling him, and even more scared he might turn into him. Just like Beom-seok, he fears becoming a bad father.

3. Quiet, Emotional Protection:

With you? He’s tough. Out in public? He smiles and holds your hand like you’re fragile glass.

“No one’s touching you. Baku’s right here.”

But when he’s alone, his chest aches with the memories of his dad.

4. Tiny Surprises & Care:

You’re tired? He sets up cute little things around the house. Brings your favorite dessert. Buys fresh chicken from your favorite spot.

“I know this isn’t easy… but we’ve got this. Together.”

5. Jealousy & Trust:

Sees you talking to other guys? His eyes tear up — but he never says a word. Keeps it buried.

“Just… understand me, okay? I just wanna protect you.”

6. During Birth:

Nervous as hell but stands strong. His palms sweat like crazy, but he holds your hand the whole time.

“You’re gonna be okay. You and the baby — you’re both okay.”

7. Fatherhood:

Soft. Steady. Scared. But loving. He’s clumsy at first, scared to touch the baby. But he never leaves your side. Stands by the crib every night.

“I’m not just here for you anymore. I’m here for them too.”

[blackpantherismyish]

Command Me Right 🍃

Modern!au Submissive! Elijah “Smoke” Moore X Femmedom Annie Moore

Word Count: 4.1k

Authors Note: Liiisten… This right here had me pausing in the middle of writing because this was a lot. (I’m a switch so this is hittin’ me all the right places). I will die on the hill that the twins are subs. So I had to give yall a peek into this creative ass brain I got here. And a warning that panties will definitely need to be changed during this. And probably immediately afterwards. Have fuuun 🥴🙂‍↕️

Setting: Annie’s apartment, late at night. The city noise hums in the distance. Smoke just returned from handling something bloody for her—he hasn’t even changed his clothes.

Annie doesn’t ask how it went.

She already knows by the way Smoke closes the door—quiet, careful, like he’s afraid he might bring the ghosts inside with him. He stands there a second too long, body still sharp with adrenaline. His jacket is spattered. His hands? Still unclean.

“Shower,” she says softly, not looking up from the wine glass in her hand. “Now.”

He doesn’t speak. He disappears into the bathroom like a shadow that obeys light. When he returns, the blood’s gone, but the tension clings to him like steam. Still shirtless. Still silent.

He’s waiting.

She finally lifts her eyes. “Come here.”

He does. Barefoot across the hardwood, chest rising just slightly faster now. He stops in front of her, eyes locked on hers. Unreadable to everyone else.

But she knows the storm behind them.

“Hands behind your back,” she says. Her voice is low. Precise. Unshaken.

He obeys instantly, jaw tightening as his arms lock in place. It’s the kind of posture he uses when he’s holding a man at gunpoint—except here, it’s for her. Because she asked.

Annie steps in close. Not touching yet. Just watching him breathe through the control it takes to stay still. To not grab her.

“You came to me dirty,” she murmurs, circling him slowly, dragging her fingers along the edge of his shoulder. “Brought someone else’s blood to my door.”

His throat bobs. “I cleaned it off.”

“You cleaned your skin,” she corrects, stepping behind him, voice a thread of silk. “But I still feel it in you.”

Smoke closes his eyes. Just for a moment. The weight of her voice pulls something loose inside him. Every muscle tightens in anticipation.

She finally touches him. Fingertips ghosting down his spine. He breathes in sharp. Not from pain but from the gentleness. It’s always the gentleness that undoes him.

“Tell me what you need,” she says.

“I need…” his voice catches. Gravel and quiet. “To come back to myself.”

She smiles behind him.

“No,” she whispers. “You need to come back to me.”

And then she’s in front of him again. Reaching out, dragging her nails slowly across his ribs. He shudders under it. Barely.

“Take off your pants.”

He does, methodically, eyes never leaving hers. She doesn’t touch. Doesn’t rush. Just watches the way his hands move when he’s obeying. Watches how precise he is, how articulated, like every movement is an offering.

Once he’s down to nothing, he stands there again. Still. Waiting.

Annie steps in close and lifts a finger to his chin. Tilts his face toward her.

“You think you’re in control of everything, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But here?”

“…You are.”

She leans in, lips brushing his cheek. “Good boy.”

That breaks something in him.

He exhales hard. Like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in hours.

And when she finally wraps a soft length of silk around his wrists Tying them behind him, slow and patient, he doesn’t resist. Doesn’t flinch. He bows his head and sinks to his knees, her name on his breath like prayer.

Because for Elijah Moore, obedience isn’t about weakness.

It’s about choosing surrender—for one person only.

And Annie commands him like she was born to do it.

He kneels.

And it never gets old—watching him like this. Smoke Moore, the man who doesn’t blink when he ends someone, the man whose name makes grown men hold their breath… brought to his knees by her voice alone.

He’s not trembling. He’s not broken. That’s not what this is.

This is something else. Something deeper.

His submission is intentional. Chosen. And that makes it powerful. Holy, almost.

She brushes her fingers down the side of his face. He leans into the touch like it feeds him. And maybe it does.

Because Annie knows what people don’t see.

They don’t see the way his body softens when she ties him down. The way his jaw loosens when she praises him. The way he stares up at her—not like she’s some savior, but like she’s the only person who’s ever let him stop holding everything together.

She sees the way he lets go when he’s bound—not to be controlled, but to be understood.

She doesn’t dominate him to win.

She commands him to unburden him.

And that weight? He gives it up, piece by piece, every time he says, yes ma’am.

Annie studies his face. Still, focused, but so clearly his. His devotion lives in his silence. In the patience. In the way he doesn’t flinch when she traces his collarbone like it’s hers.

Because it is.

And maybe that’s what wrecks her the most.

Not that he kneels.

But that he does it for no one else.

Annie doesn’t rush.

She circles him again, barefoot. One hand trailing over his shoulder, then across the base of his neck. She studies the slope of his back, the tight lines of restraint through his spine.

“Still carrying it,” she murmurs. “Even now.”

Smoke doesn’t respond, doesn’t dare to. But his breath hitches when her palm glides over his chest, just above his heart.

“I’ll take it,” she whispers.

And just like that, he exhales. Drops his head forward.

She moves in front of him. Drops to her knees slowly, matching his height. Her silk robe slips open a little, revealing the edge of her bare thigh, and his eyes flick there for only a moment, just enough to betray how badly he wants, how hard he’s fighting not to.

But that’s the game.

Annie grips his chin, pulling his face up to hers. “You want permission?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice is hoarse, like it’s been buried under years of restraint.

“Say what you want.”

“I want to kiss you. Please.”

She smiles—not cruel, but in control. “And what makes you think you’ve earned that?”

A pause. His jaw flexes. “Because I obeyed. Because I let you see me.”

Good boy. She doesn’t say it yet. But he’ll hear it soon enough.

Her lips ghost over his, not quite a kiss, just enough to make his body tense all over again. The silk around his wrists shifts with his restraint—no struggling, only stillness.

An offering.

She rises, letting the robe fall from her shoulders.

“Up,” she commands.

Smoke follows, rising to his feet, eyes tracking her like prayer in motion. His body is beautiful—muscle carved from discipline, inked over with secrets. But his face? It’s soft now. Soft the way only she ever sees.

“Lie down.”

He moves onto the bed without hesitation, arms still bound behind his back, back arched slightly from the tension. She straddles him slowly, dragging the fabric of her robe across his hips, just to watch him twitch under her.

His breathing grows ragged as she settles on top of him, just over his length, not touching—yet.

“You want release?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am.” It slips out in a moan this time, low and desperate.

Annie leans forward, her hands braced beside his head. She grinds against him once—slow, agonizing—and watches the way he gasps, the way his hips jerk despite the way he’s holding himself back.

“You don’t get to cum until I say.”

“I know.”

Her lips press to his throat, then his jaw. She takes her time dragging her mouth down his chest, teeth grazing, tongue tracing the ink she’s memorized. She lets him feel every second of her.

And he just takes it. Not a sound except the occasional whimper into the sheets. Because his pleasure isn’t in taking—it’s in being given.

She reaches between them finally, stroking him slowly, her grip firm, purposeful.

“You hold it,” she whispers into his neck. “Until I decide you’ve earned it.”

Smoke nods wildly, lips parted, eyes wet. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

“Not yet.”

He groans. Not loud. Just… undone. Raw.

Annie watches him come apart in real time. The way he twitches under her touch. The way he chokes on the need to obey. That tension in his hips, the way he bites into his lower lip until it threatens to split.

Then, at the exact moment she wants to hear him beg—she says it:

“Cum for me, Smoke.”

And he does. Violently. Beautifully.

His body arches into hers as if pulled by wire. His mouth opens wide but no words come, just raw sound—gratitude and release tangled in one wrecked exhale.

Annie holds him through it. Doesn’t stop touching him. Doesn’t let him fall too far from her.

When it’s over, she unties his wrists, slow and gentle.

His arms collapse around her like instinct.

And now, he speaks again.

“Thank you.”

She kisses his temple. “Always.”

She doesn’t move right away.

Not after the shuddering release. Not after the groan that cracked open from his throat like something ancient. She stays on top of him, thighs locked around his hips, her body warm and slick against his. Her hand rests on his chest—right over his heart. It beats against her palm, wild and unhidden.

Annie feels him. Every ounce of tension. Every flicker of restraint he’s fought to hold until she gave him the permission to break.

“Still with me?” she whispers, brushing a bead of sweat from his damp forehead.

Smoke’s eyes blink open, slower than usual. They find hers instantly. His voice is rough silk when he answers:

“Yes, ma’am.”

It lands deep in her.

That sound. That trust.

Smoke’s arms tremble when they’re freed, not from weakness—but from release. He hasn’t moved them in so long.

She brings his hands forward, cradles them in her own, and kisses each wrist like a promise.

Smoke lets out a breath that’s more like a prayer.

“I’m good,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I’m good now.”

“You were always good,” she says softly. “You just forget sometimes.”

He watches her in silence, reverence lining every inch of him. His eyes never stray. They drink her in like he needs to remember every line of her—her shoulders, her stomach, the shadow of her collarbone. He wants to be marked by her.

Annie leans down and kisses his chest, just over the space where his heart beats fast and vulnerable. Then lower—down his ribs, past his stomach, slow and deliberate.

Smoke breathes out a shaky sound and grips the sheets beside him. He’s not bound anymore, but he doesn’t move. Not unless she tells him.

“You want to taste me?” she asks.

His eyes fly open, pupils wide. “Yes. Please.”

She smirks and rises to her knees. “Ask me properly.”

Smoke sits up slightly, arms sluggish with aftershocks but voice full of need.

“Let me taste you, ma’am. Let me show you I’m yours.”

She grips his jaw with one hand, thumb brushing along his lower lip.

“Then get on your knees again.”

He does. So fast it almost breaks her.

Now she’s on the edge of the bed, legs spread just enough. Smoke kneels between them like he was born for this. His hands rest on his thighs, back straight, eyes locked onto her center—not with lust, but with devotion.

She leans back, robe open now, nothing but skin and power.

“I’m not going to guide you,” she says. “You know what I like.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then he shows her, with his mouth parted, slow and full of awe. His lips find the inside of her thigh first, pressing kisses like she’s something holy. To him, she is. Every inch of her.

Annie watches him from above—how he moves like she’s the first woman he’s ever known. How he doesn’t rush. His tongue is soft, teasing at first, like he’s worshipping rather than devouring.

But she knows him. Knows how he gets when he hears her breathe differently. When her legs shift. When her nails curl into the comforter. That’s when Smoke’s hunger shows.

And he gets deeper. More eager. His tongue presses with purpose. One hand grips her thigh now, holding her in place, but never without control. He groans softly against her, as if the act alone feeds him.

Her head falls back, a soft moan escaping her lips. She lets it. He earned it.

“Just like that,” she breathes. “Don’t stop baby boy.”

Smoke hums against her, slow and sure.

She feels her body climbing fast, her grip in his hair tightening, her legs starting to tremble.

And then—

She finishes with a cry muffled into the back of her hand. Her hips rise into his mouth before falling back, her body limp with release.

Smoke doesn’t pull away until her fingers touch his jaw.

He looks up. Lips glistening, breathing rough.

Annie cups his face and pulls him into her lap.

He collapses into her like something sacred has just ended. His arms around her waist. His face tucked between her breasts.

She strokes the back of his head. “You always give me everything.”

Smoke’s voice is hoarse, muffled against her skin. “Because you see all of me. And still want me.”

Annie holds him tighter.

“I don’t want you,” she says softly. “I own you.”

And he sighs like that’s the safest thing he’s ever heard.

“You ready?” she asks, her voice barely above a breath.

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

But she holds his face in her hands, looks him dead in the eye.

“No. I mean all the way ready.”

Smoke swallows hard. His body’s spent but his need is still thrumming—low, heavy, buried under his skin like a fire that never goes out. He’s been edged and quieted, held down and made still, and now she’s offering the final thing.

The inside of her. The part no one else gets.

“I’m ready,” he says, voice rough as gravel. “Please let me in.”

Annie leans forward, kisses his cheek, then his mouth—deep and warm. She shifts her body under him and parts her thighs again, this time not for dominance, but for connection.

“C’mere,” she whispers, and he moves automatically.

Once he’s coated in her essence, he comes back to her, eyes darker than before, chest rising fast.

“Look at me,” she says.

He does. Always does.

“Go slow.”

Smoke lines himself up, one hand braced beside her, the other guiding his length to her entrance. He pauses, just a breath before pressing in. His tip parts her slowly, and he groans immediately, the kind of sound he never lets anyone else hear.

Annie’s warmth pulls him in inch by inch. She’s so wet from his mouth that his length slides in smooth, but tight, her walls gripping him like they know him.

Smoke buries his face in her neck, shaking.

“Fuck…”

She lets him bottom out, every inch of him seated inside her now. The depth makes her gasp, his size, the fullness of it, how he stretches her just right.

“You feel that?” she whispers.

“Yes,” he groans. “You’re so… fuck, Annie, you’re perfect.”

He doesn’t move right away. He’s overwhelmed. His dick twitching inside her, held by her heat, her heartbeat under his lips, her hands gripping his back like she’s the one holding him together.

“Go ahead, baby,” she whispers. “Take what you need.”

Smoke pulls out slow. The drag of him against her inner walls pulls a low moan from both of them. When he slides back in, it’s a smooth thrust, deep and thick, his hips controlled but aching. His body is still in that submissive space, not pounding, but giving.

His strokes are devotional.

Long. Deep. Measured.

The kind that say: I’m not just fucking you. I’m letting you own every part of me.

Her legs wrap around his waist as his rhythm builds, breath turning ragged, mouth open at her shoulder. Annie can feel the tremble in him. That barely-restrained intensity, like if she said “faster,” he’d give it to her without hesitation.

But she doesn’t.

She wants this pace. This depth. This Smoke.

“Don’t rush,” she whispers. “Let yourself feel it.”

“I feel everything,” he rasps.

She locks her arms around his back, tilting her hips just a little and it hits deeper. Right where she wants him. Where she needs him.

Smoke curses under his breath, groaning into her shoulder. His thrusts get more desperate now, not rough, but needy. That edge creeping back in.

“I’m close,” he gasps.

Annie grips his face. “Look at me when you cum.”

He obeys instantly. Eyes locked on hers. Bare. Shaking.

His body starts to jolt, every muscle clenched as he fucks her through the brink, hips stuttering, the sound of their bodies wet and slick and perfectly aligned. She watches the way his pupils dilate, the twitch of his lips.

Then it hits.

Smoke lets out a guttural sound as he breaks. His body jerks, his hips grind into her one last time, dick pulsing deep inside of her, thighs tight, mind gone. He gasps her name like he forgot it was real until now.

“Annie… Fuck… Annie.”

And as he releases, he doesn’t fall apart violently. He melts. Collapsing into her, arms shaking, face buried in her neck, breathing like he just made it out alive.

Annie wraps him up, fingers stroking down his spine. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

For all the power she holds in this room—this is the part she never says aloud:

She breathes easier when he lets go.

Because Smoke never gives his release to the world.

He only gives it to her.

The room is warm, sheets tangled and damp with sweat. Smoke is quiet. Eyes closed, arms still curled around Annie like he’s not ready to let her go. But she stirs first.

Annie shifts slowly, pressing a kiss to his temple. Smoke hums but doesn’t lift his head.

“You okay?” she whispers.

He nods against her skin. “Better than okay.”

But she feels the weight in his body, the exhaustion laced with something gentler than usual. It’s not every day the world’s quietest weapon lets himself be soft.

“Come on,” she says. “Let me clean you up.”

Smoke groans like a kid asked to get out of bed too early, but he moves. Follows her to the bathroom, still barefoot and a little unsteady. She turns on the water, warm, not hot, and waits until steam starts to rise.

“Sit,” she tells him, patting the closed toilet lid.

He does, letting her guide his hands into the sink basin like he’s being baptized. She then grabs a warm cloth and soap.

The first pass of the cloth down his chest pulls a deep sigh from him. He doesn’t resist it—just melts. Annie’s touch isn’t rushed. She moves slowly across his ribs, down his abs, careful not to miss a spot. It’s not about cleaning—it’s about care.

Smoke watches her in the mirror, lips parted, eyes half-lidded.

“You always do this,” he says quietly.

“Do what?”

“Handle me like I’m made of glass. After everything.”

Annie smiles without looking up. “That’s because nobody else ever does.”

She lifts one of his hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before gently scrubbing them. “You spend all day destroying things, Elijah. You deserve to be touched like you won’t fall apart.”

That earns a soft chuckle from him—rare and husky.

“You know this the only time I’m soft, right?” he murmurs.

Annie laughs, a warm giggle that echoes in the small tiled room.

“Yeah,” she says, glancing up at him through lashes. “You command every damn room you walk into… except when I’m in it.”

Smoke tilts his head, eyes gleaming with something close to wonder. “That’s ‘cause you own the room when you’re in it.”

She runs the cloth down the inside of his thigh slowly, deliberately.

“No,” she corrects, voice like honey now. “I own you.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t smirk. Just watches her with that open, soft look—like he knows what she says is true, and he loves that it is.

Because being owned never meant being less.

With Annie, being owned meant being seen.

And in a world that only feared him, she’s the only one who ever touched him with love.

She leans in, places a soft kiss over his heart.

“Let’s get you in bed,” she whispers.

And Smoke lets her lead him again—tucked under the covers, back pressed to her chest, her arm wrapped around him like armor.

As his eyes drift closed, he breathes her name one last time, soft as a confession:

“Annie.”

She rocks him gently.

Not like a mother.

Like a lover who knows his edges. Like someone who has held a loaded gun and knows when not to flinch.

Smoke breathes in deep. Slow. The kind of breath that means he’s safe. Fully uncoiled now, slack in her arms, fingers still twined in hers like he doesn’t want her to move—even in sleep.

Annie rests her chin on his shoulder, her voice just a whisper against his skin.

“You hear me?” she murmurs, barely audible. “I love you, Smoke.”

He doesn’t stir much. Just a slow inhale. A twitch in his jaw. She watches his lashes flutter, heavy with sleep.

“I love you when you’re quiet. When you’re cold. When you’re soft like this.”

She presses a kiss just behind his ear. “Especially when you let me see you.”

His breath stutters—just for a second. She stills her hand across his chest, wondering if he’s already gone under.

And then—

So soft she almost thinks she imagined it:

“I love you too.”

Her lips part, and her heart kicks once in her chest.

Smoke doesn’t say it like a confession. He says it like a truth he’s been carrying for a long time, waiting for the moment he could hand it over without it breaking.

He doesn’t follow it with anything else. Doesn’t look at her. Just lets it sit there—real and raw—before sleep pulls him fully under.

She kisses the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know, baby.”

And she holds him tighter, letting her body be the place he dreams safely.

The next morning, light filters in through linen curtains. The scent of butter, cinnamon, and black coffee curls into the bedroom before the sound of footsteps ever reaches Annie’s ears. She’s curled on her side, face pressed into Smoke’s pillow, wearing nothing but a black silk robe halfway untied.

A shadow crosses the bed before a hand brushes her shoulder, knuckles grazing the side of her neck.

“Wake up, baby.”

Annie stirs, lashes fluttering. Her voice is heavy with sleep.

“Mmm… what time is it?”

“Too early for questions. Sit up.”

She opens her eyes and finds Smoke standing at the edge of the bed—shirtless, gray sweats hanging low on his hips, a tray balanced easily in one hand.

On the tray: a plate of thick-cut French toast with powdered sugar and berries, a mug of dark roast coffee just the way she likes it, and a small bowl of cut peaches chilled with ice.

Her brow lifts. “You cook now?”

Smoke smirks, just a flash of teeth. “Only for you.”

He sets the tray down in front of her like he’s presenting a weapon for inspection.

Annie leans back on the headboard, crossing one leg beneath the other, eyes tracing him slowly.

“You always walk around feeding your domme breakfast in bed?”

He leans down, one hand braced beside her head.

“Only when she breaks me good enough to earn it.”

His voice is deep. Lazy. But that look in his eyes—it’s different now. Still soft, but sharper. Smoke’s taken himself back, and now he holds the reins again. Not to overpower. Not to erase last night. But to remind her who he is when he’s whole.

Annie reaches for a berry, but Smoke grabs her wrist gently.

“Let me.”

He picks one up between his fingers and feeds it to her, slow. His eyes never leave her mouth as she takes it in, lips brushing the pad of his thumb on the way out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

She swallows hard—caught off guard by the flip in tone. By the way her body responds. Heat pooling instantly between her thighs.

He sees it in her face. In her breath. In the way her spine arches just slightly.

“Eat first,” he says, voice firm. “Then I’ll decide how else you’re gonna use that mouth.”

Annie narrows her eyes, lips twitching. “You think you’re in charge now?”

Smoke grabs the mug, presses it to her lips. “You handed me the crown, baby. I’m just wearin’ it right.”

She drinks. Watches him over the rim.

And it hits her—how natural he moves between soft and commanding. How last night he gave her everything. But today?

Today, she belongs to him.

And she likes it.

————-

Taglist: @gtf-o-m-d @spookysanta @michelley-rome @bigjh @anniensmoke3 @hdfen2474 @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @killmongerdispussy @theogbadbitch @ccwpidsblog @princesskillmonger @blowmymbackout @theethighpriestess @blktinkerbell @steampunkprincess147 @diamondsinterlude @partylikemajima @theegoldenchild @mhhhhmmmmmmm @lilchubbs @thebumblebeesworld @mastertia221b @brownskincheyenne @belleofthefloor @c0tt0ncandi @irefusetobeacasualty @cocoxciv-blog @melodyofmbaku @lb-xci @christinabae @babygirl-4986

[confessionsandcreampies]

k. yukimiya relationship headcanons

kenyu yukimiya is a man fighting against time, image, and pain—but when he loves you? he chooses you over pride, over fear, over everything

very image-conscious, but lets his walls down for you—he doesn’t cry in front of others. doesn’t admit weakness. but when he’s alone with you? he rests his forehead against your chest and whispers, “you’re the only place i can breathe.”

has impeccable taste and spoils you discreetly—not loud. not flashy. you mention liking something and it’s in your hands a day later. “it suits you,” he murmurs. “i only want you wearing what brings out that spark.”

takes candid photos of you all the time—and not to post. just to keep. you find them one day in his phone: your smile, your hands, your half-asleep face.

when he kisses you? it’s like a love letter—he kisses like he means it. like he’s trying to remember the taste in case he never gets it again.

sensual and dominant—he doesn’t just have sex, he performs. every stroke is perfect. every word designed to break you down. “you look so beautiful when you’re falling apart.”

mirror kink—he wants you to watch. wants you to see how ruined you look with his hand between your legs and his lips on your neck. “don’t look away. this is what i do to you.”

loves giving oral—on his knees, eyes full of heat, licking and sucking like he’s praying at your altar.

praise and obsession—“you’re mine.”—“no one will ever love you like this.”—“your body was made for me. let me prove it.”

slight possessiveness—will mark you with hickeys. bite your shoulder when he finishes. then pull you into his chest and whisper, “i’ll destroy anyone who thinks they can take you.”

aftercare is luxury and reverence—warm bath. soft towel. kisses on every bruise. whispered apologies for being rough, even when you begged for it. “you’re everything to me,” he says, brushing your hair back. “let me keep showing you.”

[clouji]

Folded

+ ex!hamzah x reader, complicated feelings, making out.

You were just grabbing your lip balm off the table while Hamzah was in the kitchen, looking for more snacks. His phone was face-up, unlocked, and the texts lit up like they were begging to be read.

You didn’t mean to look. You really didn’t. But there it was.

Some girl, saved under a name you never seen before. As you scroll, all you see are flirts and inside jokes . One of them ending with, “I’m still mad you didn’t stay last time :( I miss you.”

It hit like a punch in the face.

When he came back into the room, you were already holding the phone, standing there stiff. It unraveled fast after that, a mix of accusations and raised voices. You didn’t let him talk. You didn’t want to hear whatever explanation he was scrambling to come up with.

You were furious. But more than that, you were hurt.

So you left. Slammed the door behind you and told yourself you were done with him.

He keeps blowing up your phone but you texted him that you need space and time to think, which he did give you. A few days passed. No texts. No calls. Just silence. And it killed you. You kept drafting messages in your Notes app, rewriting the same sentence ten different ways.

Then finally, you sent it. Just five words.

“Come pick up your hoodie.”

You thought it was a stupid excuse, but you didn’t expect him to actually reply.

Few hours later, You didn’t expect him to show up.

You shouldn’t have opened the door. You tell yourself that as soon as you see him— wearing wrinkly white shirt, black sweatpants, tired eyes hiding behind his glasses, standing like he doesn’t belong here anymore.

He doesn’t.

But he still looks like home, and that’s the crazy part.

“My hoodie?” he asks right away like this is just a casual errand, like he didn’t tear something out of you and leave it unfinished.

You say nothing. Just turn and walk back inside, grabbing the folded hoodie off the arm of the couch. Hold it out like it’s nothing, even though it still smells like something you haven’t let go of.

He takes it, slow. His fingers brush yours.

“Damn,” he laughs awkwardly. “You’re not even gonna let me in?”

You hesitate, then wave him in with a sigh that says don’t make this more than it is.

He enters like muscle memory. Like this place still remembers him.

You sit on opposite ends of the couch, and the silence between you stretches like a wound.

He picks at a loose string on the hoodie in his lap. You cross your arms. You don’t know why you let him sit down. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was weakness.

“Alright,” he breaks the silence “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I missed you so much, but if you’re not ready to talk about it I guess I’ll—”

Then his phone buzzes. Not once but twice.

“That’s her?”

Hamzah freezes. “What?”

“That girl you’ve been texting,” you spit, “Did she tell you to come get your shit too?”

He looks at you like you’ve slapped him. “Are you serious right now?”

You just stare. Your throat’s tight, but you won’t let him see that.

“Didn’t take you long, huh? Already found someone else to fold into.”

“Hey don’t say that,” he snaps, hoodie balled in his fist now. “Don’t act like I did something wrong when you didn’t even give me a fucking chance to explain.”

You blink. “Explain what, Hamzah? Seeing those texts was already enough—”

“Sounds like you didn’t read the whole thing. She was talking about her stupid party!” he raises his voice, not in anger.. in frustration. “How many times do I need to tell you that she’s my friend? I guess you never trusted me enough to even believe it. You just… left.”

You want to fight back. You want to scream.

But mostly, you just want to kiss or hug him and pretend none of this ever happened.

“Well, you didn’t fight for me either,” you say, voice cracking at the edges. “You let me walk away.”

“Because you were already out the door,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know what to do. I got scared, you shut down and froze me out. Like I never meant anything.”

“You did mean something,” you whisper. “You still do.”

The silence hangs heavy between you, the air thick with tension and unsaid words. You both want this, even if it hurts.

Then he moves closer to you. You already know what is about to happen.

Your backs slam into the edge of the couch as he kisses you like he’s punishing you for every minute apart. His tongue slides into your mouth like it owns the place. Like it’s been waiting to come home. And maybe it has.

His shirt already sliding off before you even realize your hands are moving, tugging at the fabric like they have a mind of their own. His palms are already sliding beneath your shirt, hot and hungry, like he’s relearning the curve of your skin.

His phone buzzes again. He looks at it this time, then looks at you.

You pull away, bitterness curling on your tongue. You’re over this, over the fights, the not knowing if it’s worth it anymore.

“Get out,” you say.

“Y/N—”

“No. Please just go.”

He grabs the hoodie and holds your gaze for a second too long. Like maybe he wants to say I miss you, or I’m sorry.

But silence wins.

He turns. The door clicks shut.

And suddenly you’re sobbing—hands shaking, chest aching, like the silence he left behind is the only thing you have left. And maybe it is. Because you still want him. God, you still fucking want him.

[delopsia]

Ingredients: Miles Miller, food "Two sodas and a large fry!"

Your eyes scan across the empty diner. No, the sign still says closed. "Did the restaurant ghost place another order?"

A plate appears to your left, piled high with still-fizzling crinkle-cut fries. That's a lot bigger than any large fry you've ever seen.

"Everythin' we had left in the fryer," Miles hums, ghosting his hand over your lower back as he steps behind you. Always letting you know where he is. "It felt like a waste to...y'know, just throw it out."

Placing the last of the salt shakers back into their designated space on the counter, you turn to get a proper look at what he's brought you. "Were the sodas also from the fryer?"

"No..." those guilty eyes dart away, shrugging meekly, "but we deserve a drink after that late rush, right?"

There's no point in rationalizing it now; he's long since popped the caps off. You reach for the one closest to you, and he takes the other, holding it out to clink the glass against yours. A lackluster cheers, celebrating another overworked, underpaid day.

"What do we have left to clean?" Miles asks, and you don't have to look to know that he's spinning the bottles of ketchup until their logos perfectly present to the empty diner. Every night, like clockwork.

"I think I've gotten everything," you pause, biting into a fry. Hot! Hot! Hot! "I'm sure that morning shift will find something and remind me of it for the next week, though."

The front door shakes.

You duck beneath the counter before you've even seen who it is. Miles is right behind you, his wide eyes meeting yours, searching for an explanation that you were hoping he would have.

"Hello?" A woman's voice calls out. She pushes on the door again, the weak hinges threatening to break open and let her in at any moment. "Google says that you're still open for another hour!"

Well, clearly, the closed sign and lack of lights would indicate that you're not!

"Will corporate ever fix that?" Miles groans.

"Not unless it costs them money," and that's wishful thinking, for this restaurant.

The door rattles again, keys chiming. "I know someone is in there!" Another rattle. Rougher now. "I saw you in the window!"

And as if she didn't just say that, Miles reaches up to the counter, stealing a fry from the steaming plate. But it's not for him, no, he's handing it out to you.

Well, if he insists. You open your mouth, lazily taking it from him without using your hands. In return, you reach up as well, plucking an obscenely long fry from the batch. Mirroring him, you hold it out for him to bite into.

Again, he gets you a fry.

And again, you get him a fry.

"Is this a game now?" He whispers, his smile big enough for you to see in the dim lighting. "Cause if it is, you're not winning."

You tilt your head. "Oh?"

His mouth opens. You shove a fry into it.

"You—!"

He's grabbing for a handful, and you're reaching over him for an even bigger one. But your 'fries' are just his squirming hand, caught in each other's traps. He's stronger, yanking you down first, and right into his lap you go.

Knees slam into the hard tile. Dull pain gnaws at your senses. Miles is already kissing it better, lips meeting yours as easily as breathing. The tension melts from your shoulders within a matter of seconds.

God, you should have pulled him aside during that five minute slow down. You needed this.

And by the feel of it, so did he, gentle arms drawing you closer, hands sliding beneath your wrinkled shirt. He smells like coffee and a smorgasbord of fried foods, but his mouth tastes like the cherry pie that suspiciously went missing after dinner rush.

The need for air drives you away. Foreheads thump against each other, labored breath intermixing.

"Think the coast is clear?" You pant, not quite sure which answer you'd prefer.

"No," Miles shakes his head, that devilish little glint in his eye. "We'd better stay down here 'til we're sure they're gone."

Those cold sodas sure are going to come in handy later.

[hiddenhornsclub]

nsfw/mdni Jester!Huening Kai x Princess!Reader

not proofread, reader has female anatomy, fingering, tit+clit stim, p in v, aftercare

Evil ruler of a father loves torturing the Jester, Huening Kai. Causing him to make a fool of himself, blabber jokes, and lose his voice while singing for hours. But Kai thinks it’s worth it because it makes you smile.

One night, Jester!Kai is called to your chambers. He’s sweating, nervous because he has never been to your room, nor has he been called by you. Fixing his messy hair under the idiotic hat, shining his guitar, then rushes through the castle halls.

Coming upon the door of your chambers, he takes a deep breath and pushes forward. That same breath gets caught in his throat seeing you in your nude color slip dress. It was unlike anything he’d seen on you, always wearing vibrant colors adorned on outrageous dresses. This was different.

You walk towards the jester, nightgown clinging to your hips and legs while you walk. Kai gulps when he notices your perky nipples peaking through the satin. You lift a gentle hand placing it on his shoulder, greeting him so casually. However, Kai falls to his knees, not able to handle your beauty, your glorious aura.

“Your majesty,” he swallows hard trying to hold back a stutter. Eyes lifting to your face, that glistened in the moonlight. “D-do you want me to sing you a lullaby? Tell you a story? Entertain you?”

You chuckle so sweetly, a sound that had the man’s heart flutter. Your hands hold the jester’s face, Kai almost leans into the hold before going back to work. Suddenly standing up he grabs his guitar and strums the strings, but you lower his grasp of the instrument.

“No, I wanted something else from you.” You admit.

“I will do anything for you, Your Majesty.”

A faint smirk turns your lips. “Is that so?”

He looked ethereal, his features were soft, yet striking, like a marble sculpture of an idea of the most handsome man. It was a shame that there were no suitable princes that could match his beauty and talent. You stare into the Jester’s big brown eyes with twinkling stars reflecting on them. Iris flickered trying to read your mind as to what you wanted from him.

Your gentle hand grazes the curve of his blushed cheek down to his chin, guiding his face so that your lips touch. Kai’s knees fall weak, close to falling into you. The princess is kissing him, and he is beyond delighted. However, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. One still held the guitar whereas the other stiffly hung by his side.

Cupping his jaw, threading your fingers through his wavy hair as if needing more closeness, more warmth, more of the jester. The kiss grows hungrier, tasting everything unsaid, longing for one another, tension, months, and years of glances every time Kai goes to work and entertains the king.

Lips part, only to find each other again with more fire, more need. A loud crash of the guitar hitting the floor from Kai finally giving in to the touch of you. Tongues brush in a passionate rhythm, breaths hitching and mingling, chests rising fast and uneven.

Heartbeats faster as both of your footsteps bring you to your bed. Falling into the soft quilt, Kai lifts his upper body to look at you under him.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” He says breathlessly, overwhelmed by your sprawled-out body. A lustful image that will be added to his next songs.

You nod your head, “Yes.”

Kai’s fingers lightly lift the thin layer covering your body. He treated you like a delicate crystal that could break with any wrong move. His long fingers slipped in between your legs and felt your arousal coating them. You whine at the feeling, back arching and bringing your tits to Kai’s face. He leaned down and sucked your pebbled nipple through the silk cloth as he rubbed soft circles on your folds.

Burning desire filled from your core to the rest of your body. Squirming and thrusting your hips against the jester’s hand. Kai focuses on your clit causing you to moan out. His eyes were on you, still stimulating your breasts. In awe of how your body reacted to him, your head was thrown back and limbs twitching from pleasure.

After you cum on his fingers, his lips are back on yours. Softly kissing you, letting you take your time to recover. You sigh, and look at him, eyes dark and your mischievous smile telling Kai that you’re not done with his entertainment.

He tears away the crazy attire he’s forced to wear, stripped down naked. His broad shoulders cover you like a roof as he hovers over you. “That’s more like it.” You say while feeling his muscular arms.

“You know for a princess, you’re quite naughty.” Kai smiles before going down for another kiss.

He lifts your legs to wrap around his waist. Then lining his dick to your hole. Slowly pushing into you, still delicate for the princess. Stretching you and going so deep you could feel him in your throat. You were in absolute heaven, yet asking for him to go faster.

Kai has to restrain himself from turning his kisses into bites. He doesn’t think the kingdom would be pleased by the markings of a jester. All he could do was hold your hips tightly and follow your commands. Thrusting into you, angling you to get that perfect spot. Your moan increased and became louder until you both couldn’t hold on any longer.

The jester is quick to clean you up. Dipping a rag into a bowl of water, wiping you. He memorizes every curve and marks of your beautiful body. Kai was glad that he could fulfill his duty by entertaining the princess. To his surprise, as he starts to get dressed you reach out for him. You beg for him to get back in bed. There he sang you a lullaby as you fell asleep.

[geniuscloud]

The Memories That Bind Us | Lee Minho (SKZ) x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Humour.

Lee Minho x Reader

Non Idol AU!

Warnings: Swearing, Verbal Fighting, and a bit of suggestive humour.

Summary: Lee Minho and Y/N were childhood best friends who slowly began to fall in love after high school. However, the history that made them so strong also became their weakness as Y/N began to feel like Minho didn't love her romantically, but rather was just used to her. After a huge fight leading to their break up, they are now forcefully brought together again at the singles table of their University friend's wedding. Add a little rain and an adorable cat named Bubbles, will Minho and Y/N be able to navigate the romantic tension that still lies between them?

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

Author Note: Hello! This is my first time writing a Stray Kids fanfiction and my first fanfiction I've written in a LONG time. So it's been quite awhile! I hope you're all able to enjoy and feel free to leave any suggestions or comments. I really love feedback, even if it is criticism. I haven't had a chance to fully write a story since COVID started, so I'm happy to pick up this hobby again. Please note that this isn't beta(?) read or edited. So please ignore them. I'm so sorry. I'm incredibly lazy! Thank you again!

PS. The physical structure of the story got a bit messed up, but oh well...

------------ “Hi! Can I see your invitation please?” a younger blonde girl squeaked from behind the decorated table filled with a seating chart and goodie bags. Y/N fumbled with the envelope before handing it over to the young woman whilst her lips folded into a thin line in an attempt to smile. It was incredibly awkward going to weddings alone now, especially when it was within their large friend group. She knew she was overthinking it, but she couldn’t help but feel like people were gawking at her when she showed up for the ceremony and the reception without a date. She knew deep down that her friends didn’t care if she had a plus one or not, but she couldn’t help but perceive the looks as judgmental because the close knit of friends in attendance all knew about the break up. 

“Okay! So you’ll be sitting at table 13. You should see your name card on the table. It’s important that you don’t switch seats as the meal is pre-fixed and will coincide with what you selected during your RSVP.” Y/N peered down at the seating chart the young blonde was pointing to, her finger barely hiding the “singles table” in microscopic swirly handwriting. She held in a sigh, opting to thank the girl instead and headed into the reception hall. The table was draped in a navy tablecloth and nestled into the far right corner which was closest to the open bar. Six seats sat around the table with only three of them occupied currently. Finding her place card quickly she glanced over at the three people sitting at or standing next by their assigned seat.

“Oh hi Y/N!”

“Hannah? Oh my God, I didn’t even recognize you. You’re so grown up?” Y/N smiled before holding her arms out for a gentle hug.

“Thank you, it’s been awhile since we last saw each other huh?”

“Yeah like… what? Two years or so?”

“I think so. It’s been hectic since I got into university, especially since moving abroad didn’t make traveling back and forth easy,” Hannah chuckled.

“Oh. Are you sitting here by the way?”

“Yeah! I actually have a plus one though, so it’s a little strange that we’re sitting here, but I guess they just didn’t want to separate a lot of the families since a couple people brought their kids. But anyways… We’ve gotta head out for a bit. We’ll catch up later, yeah?” Hannah grabbed the hand of the tall guy who was leaning against the chair, giving one last small wave and mouthing a “see ya” before dashing off towards the exit. 

Y/N eyes fell onto the man sitting beside her spot. She could recognize his side profile instantly considering she spent the last three years prior sleeping next to it. Minho’s black hair laid softly on his head in slight curls and barely covered his eyes. He looked over his shoulder and met her gaze. She couldn’t help but notice the slight padding on his shoulders of his black suit jacket made him look even broader than before. 

“Hey,” he gently greeted.

“Hi…”

She took a seat next to him and placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward and looking around the hall for faces she knew. Hoping that someone would come to her rescue after seeing the situation that was quickly unfolding. 

“You look beautiful in that dress,” Minho uttered again. He leaned forward and put his head into her sightline, trying to draw her attention to him. 

“Thanks. Um- you look good too.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as she made it so blatantly obvious she was looking for someone to get her out of the situation. “You don’t need to avoid me.”

“What? I’m not avoiding-”

He raised an eyebrow at her. The problem with being best friends and then turning into romantic partners is that they can read you like a book. Minho knew every little quirk and habit she has. Y/N sunk down into her chair a little embarrassed. “Yeah you’re right. I’m being silly… Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was just hoping you’d at least be willing to talk as friends since it’s been almost seven months since we last saw each other.” 

Another blow to her ego. Minho was always so calm and collected even in the most tense of times. It didn’t seem like it had been that long, but it truly had been seven months since Minho packed his stuff and moved out. It felt weird knowing the last time they spoke to each other it was when he handed her the key to their shared house. His voice still echoed in her mind when he mumbled with defeat, “I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.” 

“You’re right. We were friends for so long. I can’t see why we can’t at least be civil for the sake of our friends. The last thing I want is our drama ruining their wedding.” Y/N forced herself to relax before cracking a more genuine smile. “So, are you actually here alone or did they just set you and your plus one here like they did with Hannah?”

Minho chuckled, “No, I'm actually here alone as well. There’s another guy here too who’s sitting across from us, but he’s quite a bit older than us. I think he’s a distant relative of the bride or something. So unfortunately you’re stuck with me if you’re looking for a dance.” 

“Hey, I don’t discriminate against my dance partners! Maybe I want to dance with an older man?” she playfully replied.

“Darling, he’s got a cane and a hip replacement. I don’t think he’ll be looking for a dance tonight.” Minho’s smile widened before taking a sip of his wine. She almost didn’t catch the slip of the pet name that fell from his lips, but it made her heart do a flip in her chest. How easily he could pull her guard down with a single smile made her irritated but a bigger part of her just missed him. She tried to stuff down that feeling and think rationally. Maybe we really can be friends again? She thought to herself. 

“Yeah whatever… Just focus on the dinner. The plates are coming out soon.”

The night continued on without an issue. Luckily Minho wasn’t interested in pushing any boundaries and behaved like he used to. His introverted behaviour was sometimes a blessing in moments like these because while he was playful, he also was a little more quiet and not willing to try to start something that could potentially cause a scene. He was level headed when it mattered most and that was something she admired, but was also a reason it felt like sometimes he just didn’t care or wasn’t interested. However, the two of them continued to chat throughout the dinner. Catching each other up with their lives and making a few jokes here and there. Nobody could deny that their chemistry still existed even if they would just pass it off as friendly.

Y/N watched as the newly married couple started their first dance and then slowly more people began to join them on the floor as the songs continued to change and the beats began to liven up the night. She looked out across the dance floor longingly, wondering why none of their university friends were making the effort to chat or invite her to dance with the group. Every time one of them would look towards the table, they’d see Minho behind her and just give some casual pleasantries before continuing to have fun with the rest of the party. Some friends they are… 

“Y/N, did you want to dance?” Minho’s voice peaked up from behind her as he extended his hand. 

“Nah it’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I’m offering. I can see the way you keep staring at everyone dancing and how badly you want to be up there.”

She held her clutch a little tighter while debating for a split second if she should accept the invitation. “I guess maybe a dance or two wouldn’t hurt.” Y/N placed her hand in his before rising to her feet. He tugged on her hand a little harder, pulling her over towards the floor in a quick dash, settling right in the middle of the crowd. A few of their friends glanced over at them with a smile as Minho gave one last gentle tug on her waist and pulled her in closer. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine… and thank you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know how much I love dancing after all. This was for my own benefit” he smirked sarcastically.

“Oh really? And what benefit is that?”

“I get to dance with the most beautiful woman at this wedding and everyone here gets to look at me and think how lucky is he?” 

Y/N heart flipped in her chest for the second time that night. “Minho…”

“Let’s just dance. Okay?”

His right hand sat on her waist while the other continued to hold her hand as they stepped in time with the beat. There was some comfortable silence that hung in the air as they continued to look into each other's eyes. While they weren’t verbally conversing, his softening eyes said more than words could. He couldn’t look away, even when Y/N would shyly avert her eyes to an object or person nearby, he kept focusing on the face in front of him. 

I love you Y/N… he thought to himself. Wishing he could say it to her right then and there, but he knew the consequences of his actions could risk this moment he had with her. 

The truth was Minho never really knew how to express his feelings. He always knew his one fatal flaw was that he never was good with his emotions or expressing the intimate parts of himself. In the three years of dating he could count the amount of times he said “I love you” on one hand. Physical affection and expressing his true feelings were not easy for him and he thought Y/N understood that. Unfortunately, it appeared he was wrong. He already pushed himself a lot when it came to physical affection in their relationship. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing, etc. didn’t come naturally to him. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it, but it was difficult for him to initiate it. It didn’t mean he loved her any less or that he wasn’t attracted to her. It just wasn’t instinctual to him. Instead he has to actively remind himself to try to be more affectionate, especially when his partner thrived so much on physical touch. His love language was more towards quality time or acts of service. He always thought to grab her little snacks while he was out, even if he knew they were going to be apart for most of the day, or would make extra time in the mornings to make sure they ate a meal together. It was little things like that which he tried his best to show his love towards her, but perhaps it just wasn’t enough.

Now in this moment he knew he didn’t want this opportunity to pass by. He needed to make some type of move to get Y/N back in his life again. Even if they were just going to remain as friends, he needed to find a way to get her to open back up to him and create that line of communication. If that meant being by her side as she moves on with her life, so be it, but he couldn’t lose the most important person in his life. Especially since it ended over some silly miscommunication and conflict in personality types. 

“Y/N can we talk?”

“Right now?” she asked, a little puzzled.

“I mean… not right now, but maybe soon. I want to apologize for what happened between us and I wanted to see if there was any chance that you’d be willing to even consider going back to being friends.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I should have been more understanding and stopped trying to force some kind of fairy tale expectations on us. It was naive of me.” This time her smile wasn’t genuine. There was pain behind her eyes but she wasn’t going to let it slip. Her eyes glanced down to their feet so he couldn’t read her face. She had already been humiliated enough today and she didn’t need Minho to see how much he still had an effect on her. 

“I do need to apologize though. I didn’t realize how much I was letting you down and I just… I miss you.” Minho tried his best to convey his thoughts even if they were a little nerve wracking to say out loud. He could feel her body tense in his hands as he continued to grip her waist through the rest of the dance. 

“I miss you too,” Y/N mumbled just barely above a whisper. “Um- maybe we should have that talk. Maybe somewhere a little more private? I think we’re starting to get some looks.” 

The two of them walked in silence over to the outdoor patio connected to the large venue. It had a small flower garden and a couple stone benches, but at least it was secluded from the rest of the wedding guests. The gentle breeze was just enough to send a chill down Y/N spine as her bare arms were nipped by the cold. A little shiver erupted in response. It was just enough for Minho to notice and swifty pull his suit jacket off before draping it over her exposed skin. The residual heat and cologne from his jacket engulfed her like a familiar hug. 

“Oh. It’s okay, I don’t want you to be cold either.”

“It’s fine. I’m warm anyways,” he shrugged. He sat down beside her on the stone bench just barely giving space between the two of them. “Am I being a little too much?”

“No. No, it's fine. It just feels kinda strange. You know? It still feels like us but there’s this weird barrier in-between that never was there before.” 

“Yeah I kinda get what you mean,” his voice trailed off. “ Um- I don’t want to force you to talk about things, but I just wanted to ask, are you doing okay?” 

“In what way?”

“Like… are you eating well? Are you still living at the house? Is everything okay at work?”

She huffed out a little chuckle at his concern. “I’m doing fine and work is… well… work. But yeah, I am still at the house. My parents just recently moved the property into my name so it’s officially mine now. Not extremely thrilled that I’m paying a mortgage now, but I can’t complain. I literally own a house in this economy.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I’m happy for you” he said with zero attempts to sound convincing.

“Are you okay?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she watched Minho begin to emotionally battle with himself. 

“Can I just talk to you for a moment as my friend? Pretend like none of this happened for like five minutes and just go back to when we were best friends. I really need you for a bit.” 

“Yeah. Go for it.” She could tell by Minho’s frustrated expression that something was eating away at him and maybe just slipping back into the way they used to be could at least open a line of communication. 

“I really fucked up. A couple months ago I lost someone who was really special to me and it’s been bothering me ever since. I really let her down and made them feel like I didn’t care about our relationship. It’s just hard for me to be that mushy type of person. However, the longer I’ve been alone I realized now that I was just letting her bend over backwards to adapt to me. I let her feel insecure and in the moment she needed reinforcement the most, I left her. Now I'm worried that I’ve lost the most important person in my life and I don’t know what to do. I know an apology isn’t going to fix it, but I just at least want her back in my life. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness and I don’t expect her to immediately say everything is fine. I just want to at least be in each other's life again.” 

Y/N immediately caught onto what Minho was trying to do. It was easier for him to explain how he was feeling and to coax her into expressing what she truly thought if he talked about their situation like she was a third-party, even if it was blatantly obvious it was about them. She hunched over and placed her elbows on her lap thinking on how to respond.

“Do you still care about her?” 

“Without a doubt.”

“What do you remember from that day?”

________________________________________________

“Oh we got mail! Looks like a wedding invite” Y/N said flashing a small white invitation towards Minho who was busy washing the dishes from their late night dinner.

“I’m assuming Nayoung and Ben?” Minho peaked over his shoulder to glance over at his girlfriend who was clutching onto the invite and reading it carefully before placing it down on the counter-top. 

“Yeah it is. I think that’s our only friends that are currently engaged, right?” She briefly paused before looking at his arms and alerting him, “Oh Minho, your sleeves are getting in the water.” Y/N reached around him, quickly tugging his hoodie sleeves up his arms before settling into a gentle back hug. 

“You okay?” 

Y/N just hummed in response, squeezing him a little tighter and nestling her face into his back. 

“I can’t really do the dishes like this…” he trailed off. 

“Boo. You’re no fun,” a little pout formed on her face before dropping her arms. She took a step back and hopped onto the counter behind him, opting to fiddle with the invite instead. “Hey Minho. Would you ever want to do this kinda thing?”

“What do you mean?” he was still focused on the dishes in front of him and not bothering to look back at what she was gesturing to. 

“Would you want to get married?”

“I can’t… I’m doing the dishes.” A smirk grew on his face which was barely visible in the reflection of the glazed white tiles. His voice was still monotone but laced with sarcasm. A groan escaped Y/N’s lips as she kicked off the counter.

“Minho. I’m being serious for once. I’m a little jealous that all of our friends are either engaged, married or very close to becoming engaged; meanwhile we haven’t even talked about our future basically since we started dating.” 

Minho sighed slightly before slipping off the rubber gloves and placing them down beside the sink. Honestly, he was really comfortable with the way things were right now and didn’t see a need to progress just because all their couple friends were. He always knew he wanted to marry Y/N eventually, but he wanted to establish a little more security in their careers and life before “rushing” into marriage and a family. 

“We’ve only been dating for three years. Nayoung and Ben have been together since high school.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been friends since we were ten?! Minho, we've known each other for more than half our lives? Does that not count a bit?”

“Well…” he paused to think about the logistics of a wedding, “we just graduated University recently and with the student loans we’re repaying, plus the new job offer you just got. I don’t think a wedding is really possible for us right now.”

“Oh my God. That’s not what I mean?! I’m literally asking if you even want to marry me? Because it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.” 

Minho was absolutely taken back by her comment. How could she think he doesn’t love her enough to want to get married? They’re basically glued to the hip twenty-four-seven. His voice caught in his throat whilst his eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“I mean- look at Nayoung and Ben. They’re so in love with each other and we’re nothing like that anymore! Literally even a few minutes ago I tried to give you affection and you basically told me to get off.”

“I was trying to do dishes!”

“It’s not about the fucking dishes! Minho, you’ve never even tried to be physically affectionate with me. I tried to not let it bother me because I know it’s not really your go-to, but do you not understand how much it hurts when you shrug me off? Honestly, sometimes I feel like we’re still just best friends who sometimes sleep together and that’s not even consistent anymore. Are you just not attracted to me? Do you not love me?” 

“Hey- wait. Y/N that’s not fair. You know I love you.”

She laughed bitterly, “Do I? Does it sound like I know you love me? Because honestly it feels like you’re just used to me.” 

“Don’t say that. That’s not true.” Minho’s arms reached out towards her, his body not really sure what to do but wanting to comfort her somehow. The tears beginning to form in her eyes made his heart sink into his chest. He didn’t want to be the reason she was crying, but his head couldn’t wrap around the situation fast enough to think on what to do or how to fix it. His arms went to wrap around her frame but her palms cut him off, gently placing them on his chest.

“I’m sorry, but please don’t touch me. I don’t want a pity hug right now.”

“Then I don’t understand what the hell you want from me?”

“Oh my God. We’re supposed to be a couple. I shouldn’t have to beg for love!”

“Well i’m sorry, but I can’t just be affectionate on command! I thought you of all people would understand?! I’m sorry that it’s not in my nature to just hold your hand, or cuddle, or kiss you, but I'm trying my best! I always think about what I could do to make you happy. Do you not realize I wake up 2 hours earlier than I need to in order to have breakfast with you every day? I don’t enjoy waking up early, but I do it because I want to be with you!” He shouted back while gripping the counter top tightly. 

“I know!!” Y/N bursted out throwing her hands into the air in front of her. She took a deep breath and sighed, “I know… I’m sorry. God, look at us. What the hell happened to us?” 

Minho’s head hung low, “I don’t know.”

“We’re falling apart.”

Minho’s eyes snapped up to her face in disbelief. She couldn’t even manage to look him in the eyes but rather stayed focused on his left arm that guarded her. Holding her pressed to the counter with no escape.

“You don’t mean that…”

Her lips folded into each other in an attempt to hold back the deep frown that was fighting against her. “Maybe we’re just not meant to be a couple. We work great as friends, but I can’t shake this feeling like I’ll never be enough for you to actually love me the way I need. You know how bad it is that my biggest insecurity is that you’ll never really see me as a woman.”

“But that’s not true! Why are you putting words in my mouth? Honestly, it feels like you’re just giving up on us? I know I haven’t been the best partner and I’m sorry that I’ve made you question my love for you, but it’s just the way I am.”

“And yet I’m telling you how your lack of affection is making me feel, but “it’s just the way you are” so you get a pass?” 

“Y/N-” 

“Stop. Minho. This is stupid… I just- fuck. I’m gonna call my sister and ask if I can stay with her for a few days.”

“Forget it. You don’t even let me talk and you’re not even trying to listen to me when I'm telling you it’s not true. You’ve obviously made up your mind about us,” Minho uncaged her body from the countertop and stomped off towards the bedroom to grab his bag. Y/N’s breath became rigid in her throat. She’s never seen Minho so genuinely angry and hurt in his life. His eyes were pooled with pain even if tears didn’t swell in his ducts. He wasn’t much of a cryer, but his glossy dark eyes did little to hide his feelings. 

“Wait but what about Nayoung and Ben’s wedding?” she called after him, trying to come up with an excuse now that the reality of her own actions came tumbling after her. She grasped onto the bedroom door knob attempting to twist it open but instead felt the resistance of the lock.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about their wedding. Just tell them the truth.” She pounded on the door still twisting the knob desperately before it flung open in her face again. Instead Minho towered over her with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a new hoodie on, “tell them we broke up.” 

“Wait Minho I didn’t-” she began to sob, reaching out for his arm as he stepped around her heading for the front door to slip on a pair of shoes. He went to reach for the door but at the last moment spun around to face her. 

“And for what it’s worth… You were my everything. Not even for a second did I ever doubt you were the one I was meant to be with. Ever since we were kids I've always wanted to marry you, but how can we be together when you’ve already given up?” 

_______________________________________________

Minho’s eyes had dampened during his recollection of the night they broke up. Two large tears had swollen up and fell onto the concrete beneath him suddenly pouring out into beautiful pearls as they refracted the sunset. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the urge to wrap him into a hug but wasn’t sure if that was the best idea. She bit her lip trying to hold back the tears that she thought she had already cried out long ago.

“I’m sorry. For everything,” his voice wavered as if he was fighting back more tears. Absent-mindedly, she placed her palm on his back as he continued to hunch over. She wasn’t used to seeing him cry, but every part of her ached at seeing him broken like this. She really thought he would have been over it by now, thinking deep down he didn’t really care, but seeing him like this made the realization stronger. He did care. He cared about her. He cared about their relationship. Their friendship. 

“You don’t need to apologize. We both made huge mistakes. I shouldn’t have forced you to try to be someone you’re not while in relationships. I think I let my insecurities get the best of me and I always would compare our relationship to our friends. It’s not healthy and it’s not us”

“I do owe you an apology though. I was being a sucky partner. Even when you told me how you felt, I didn’t even try to help relieve your doubts. We should have had a real talk,” Minho admitted. He held out his hand hoping for Y/N to take it. Her eyes panned down, not really sure if holding his hand would be the most appropriate action, but her heart won in the end. She lightly placed her hand into his extended palm. Her movements were weary as if the contact would scorch her but the desire for contact was stronger than her willpower. His fingers immediately laced hers before resting them on his thigh.

“Yeah… I really should have let you talk. I’m sorry too.”

A smile appeared on his face when he looked over to her finally,  huffing out a small laugh at the awkwardness of their situation.

“We really are something strange. Somehow we’re both comfortable and extremely uncomfortable at the same time.” 

“Tell me about it…” her voice wandered off. A smile also began to creep on her face but she tried her best to hide it. As much as she wanted to let her guard down, their situation was still awkward and a lot more needed to be discussed before they could just let things go. Too many words still hung in the air, the same ones that clawed at her heart and made her insecurities ring in her head months after the breakup. Even if he apologized and she recognized that he cared for her, it didn’t alleviate the fear that she wasn’t good enough for him or waved off their years of awkward pre-pubescent friendship that ruined the romantic tension between them. 

“I know this might be a little inappropriate but, do you think I could get your number again? If you’re comfortable with that. I’d really like to catch up over coffee or something. If you’d be okay trying to be friends again?”

She gripped her arm through Minho’s jacket while trying to think what the possible consequences of these actions could be. Would accepting this invitation to be friends possibly cause some harm to the walls she built up, trying to get Minho out of her head. She spent so long trying to distance herself in order to make her happy, but was she really that happy to begin with? It frightened her to be friends with him again. What if she has to witness him fall in love with someone else? What if he decides he doesn’t need her around anymore and leaves for a second time? She didn’t know if she could take more heartache from the boy who essentially turned her into an emotionless zombie for months on end. However, one little “please” from his mouth caused her to fold like a lawn chair. 

Stupid men, she mentally cursed to herself.

“I guess… I mean, we did have a really long friendship. It’d be stupid to let all those years go to waste,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reason with Minho or herself through the delivery of her sentence. 

“Thank you. I promise I won’t make things awkward. If I do, just tell me okay? You can be as mean as you’d like. I’ll even let you hit me if that’ll make you feel better,” he was joking but extended his face forward awaiting a playful slap.

“I wouldn’t hit you!” she jokingly sneered while giving him a slight smack on the arm.

“You literally just did!” Minho bursted out laughing and held his shoulder towards her to show off the invisible mark she had just laid upon him. 

“Well you deserve it.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that… but thank you… for at least giving our friendship a chance. It’s really mature of you.” 

She let out a sheepish smile instead of letting another playful insult slip from her lips. Y/N had been craving these moments the most between them. This familiarity of teasing and joy was something she longed for the most while he wasn’t in her life. It was weird not having him around, but it was weirder coming back to it almost instantly. It’s like nothing ever changed or had happened. It was just… them. 

“Anyways. We should probably get back inside. People might genuinely start noticing we’re gone and the last thing we need is some weird rumour starting around our friend group again.” 

He gestured his hand towards her in order to help her to her feet. Minho felt a shiver down his spine from the breeze. He had been freezing his butt off the entire time they had been sitting outside, but seeing her grip onto his suit jacket sleeves, engulfed in his scent. He could care less about the chill that pecked at his skin.

_______________________________________________

To say Minho was happy about rekindling their friendship would be an understatement. His phone was basically glued to his hands, if not, whatever flat surface was in front of him. He was never the type to keep his ringer on. Often opting to keep his phone on silent or ‘do not disturb’ but ever since Y/N reopened that line of communication, it was like every sense of his personality got flipped. His ears would perk up at the little ding of his phone, immediately reaching for it in hopes that she had texted him. Once even leading to an unfortunate incident where his phone decided to take a bath with him. Minho had spent the following night with his phone buried in a mountain of rice hoping the water would drain.

That was the night he realized maybe he was getting a bit too intense. He was acting like a lovesick fool who’s phone became an extension of his body, and it wasn’t healthy, let alone his immediate change in personality could risk scaring Y/N off. They had agreed to be friends again. Not lovers or anything more. So he knew he needed to take a step back and ground himself. 

The few weeks after the wedding was filled with hundreds of texts and voice memos between the two. Gradually growing from “how was your day?” into late night 13 minute long voice memos of ranting about a tv show or movie the two of them were watching independently. Y/N’s voice messages were always long and rambled. Often a mishmash of various topics as she jumped from one thing to the others, sometimes not even finishing the point of her story. Unbeknownst to her, Minho absolutely adored her frustrated rambles about life or the weird TikTok she saw. He absolutely ate it up, saving practically every coffee-induced word fumble that she made through voice message at every hour of the day and night. 

It helped him feel closer to her again. The fact that she thought about him enough to even send the message to him made his heart swell. Especially when hearing his name fall from her lips as she sighed about her cat Bubbles knocking over her garbage can for the 3rd time that night.

“Minho I swear to God you helped me pick out the most insane cat in that shelter. This little monster is addicted to my trash can- BUBBLES!!! STOP EATING PAPER!!!” Her voice screamed through the phone. He was laying on the couch while relaying some of the voice messages from the night before. The downpour of rain meant he was going to tuck himself away in his apartment for the night and park his body on the couch until bedtime. His half eaten dinner was long forgotten on the counter as he absorbed himself in the silly voice messages she had sent. He could imagine Bubbles, a tiny black cat with the craziest bulging green eyes, laying beside the office garbage can and happily munching on paper. In the few months Minho lived with Bubbles as a kitten, that cat got into absolutely everything and anything, but he got along well with Soonie, Doongie and Dori. Adopting Bubbles was actually Minho’s idea, he thought having a cat in their shared home would be like having a little family, especially since he missed having his cats around him. However, his three cats didn’t relocate well so they stayed behind with his parents. Bubbles was basically a newborn kitten when they adopted him, meaning he was just over a year old at this point, so Minho hadn’t been in his life for too long and the kitten was way too attached to Y/N for Minho to take him after their breakup. 

The pause of the voice memo followed by the buzz from his phone made him immediately sit up from the couch. ‘Y/N’ popped up as a notification as his phone rang loudly through the apartment. This was weird. They may have been talking again, but she was never the one to call unless it was an emergency. Even if she wanted to chat one on one it was always over video call. He paused for a second. Was it an accident? Maybe just a butt dial? He shook his thoughts off and swiped the notification to answer.

“H-Hello?” 

The line was quiet for a moment before static and sobs started to break out over the phone. He could hardly hear her voice through the muffled sobs.

“Y/N are you okay? I can’t hear you?” The poor reception made it impossible to hear her voice, cutting in and out mixed with her tears. His feet dropped to the floor and sprung off the couch the moment he realized something was wrong. His instincts began running through his body as he looked around his apartment for his car keys.

“Baby where are you?” he called out one last time. Her robotic-sounding pixelated voice was completely inaudible before the phone line went dead. The three beeps from the ended call replaced the sound of poor reception and his mind began to race a mile a minute. He tried to call again while mumbling to himself as his body turned the search into rampaging through his apartment. Her phone immediately went to voicemail.

“Fuck it!” he cursed while slinging on his rain jacket and dashing out the door. If he ran fast enough, he could be there in less than 10 minutes. His apartment wasn’t too far from the house they originally shared. He opted to stay in a nearby neighbourhood since he loved the area so much and it was close to the place he grew up, but deep down he didn’t want to move too far from Y/N either.

The rain was beating against his face with every step he took. His running shoes and pants were absolutely soaked through within minutes, feeling the soles squish water into his socks like sponges. The air was cool on his cheeks and it filled his chest with the scent of rain. Under the shelter of his balcony, this scene would have been something to desire, but running through this rainstorm was a whole different scenario. The shortness of breath finally caught up to him when he slowed down on the stairs to the front door. His fists rapped against the white door with heavy strikes as he yelled out her name.

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!” 

There was no answer, not that he had given her much time to open the door regardless, but in a panic he was not willing to wait. Minho began frantically checking the side windows and back door, hoping that her forgetful habits would work in his favour. Luckily he noticed the office window was cracked open, the hinge was lazily flipped to the lock position, but since the window wasn’t completely closed properly it slid open with ease. He would have to scold her later once he knew she was safe. 

Quickly getting to his feet in the office he looked around the room. It was quiet, well kept, and only a single light illuminated the hallway. It seemed like nobody was home. Meaning he may or may not have just actually broken into her house… hopefully she won’t be mad. Especially since he had just tracked water all over her carpet on top of everything. Within a moment Minho’s ears perked up to hear the front door open and slam followed by the sound of muffled sobs. 

“Y/N?” he called out. Hoping his voice would be frightening than his body in front of her. It was quiet for a second before she croaked out.

“Minho? What are you doing in my house?” 

He rounded the corner into the living room seeing her equally soaked figure standing in the doorway. Her pajamas were completely drenched through. The black tee shirt and teddy bear pants were completely clung to her body, not leaving much of her figure to the imagination. Her wet hair clung to her face and shoulders in wild twists which slightly hid the running makeup and sore red eyes. It was obvious she had been crying for quite some time. 

He couldn’t help himself anymore. His arms extended out in front of him before he could even form a sentence to answer his question. Instead he pulled her into a tight hug, pressing her body into him and nestling his face into her neck.

Their wet clothing clung together as he held her. Her arms were frozen at her sides as she felt his hands find their place on her spine. She was simultaneously freezing and too hot as her skin felt like it was on fire from his hands. She found her hands searching for his face, pulling him away from her neck and cupping his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked while searching her eyes.

“I-I’m okay… It’s Bubbles.. I can’t find him,” more tears started to form in her eyes, “I went to run the trash out to the bin and he took off. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. I didn’t know who else to call because you know Bubbles doesn’t like strangers and I-”

Minho cut her off with a small chuckle. He gave her waist a small squeeze before letting go. He was so relieved to know that she was okay. “Shh shh. It’s okay. We’ll find him.”

Minho turned on his feet towards the bathroom. He grabbed a large plush blue towel off the rack and carefully draped it around Y/N’s head and torso, giving her a slight little rub on her head as he tried to begin drying her off. His eyes were soft and glossy as he peered down towards her. There was a certain kindness that existed only in the way he looked at her, like she was everything he needed all at once. It was a look that made you feel like home when he would stare back at you. 

“Please go take a shower and warm up. I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

“Where are you going?” 

“I’ll go find Bubbles. There’s no need for both of us to get sick from this rain.” Minho picked up the discarded umbrella that Y/N had been using before stepping back out into the storm and closing the door behind him. 

Y/N’s chest started to feel warm, a slight whirring of love sickness in her stomach as she clutched onto the towel. “He cares about me,” she thought. 

She mentally cursed herself for a moment because the bare minimum and such a small act of kindness felt like she was falling in love with Minho all over again. She felt like a fool but a bigger part of herself wanted to bask in this feeling that she missed so much. She missed Minho like crazy and the last few weeks being in contact with each other was a constant reminder of how important he was to her. She just hoped that he felt the same way. 

After collecting her thoughts she made her way into the bathroom and into the shower. He was right to suggest this. Her body was finally warming up and she was able to wash away the salty tears that burned her skin. It was a short shower since she didn’t know when Minho would come back and a pit of worry began to settle in her stomach. He was out there in the pouring rain and it was starting to get late. She quickly dressed herself into a new pair of pajamas and wrapped herself up in a robe to keep her warm. As soon as Minho got back, she’d wrap him up in a towel and send him into the shower as well. Y/N went through some of the old boxes of his stuff, hoping to find some of his clothes he had left behind. At minimum some clean underwear and a shirt to cover himself while she washed his wet clothes. There was a whole wave of emotions that hit her as she dug through his stuff. She remembered how hard it was for her to pack it up to begin with and now she was elbows deep in the u-haul box digging through his abandoned belongings. Luckily she found a maroon cotton tee and some shorts buried towards the bottom. They were slightly wrinkled but they were clean and warm, which was really the only thing that mattered. 

A small string of meowing cut her away from her hyperfixation of the box of Minho’s things. She could hear the chilled sniffles from Minho as he stood in the doorway holding Bubbles to his chest. The poor baby was shaking in his arms, his green eyes were just as buggy as ever but didn’t seem to be harmed aside from a bit of irritation. 

“Oh my God you found him!” she cried-- scooping the cat into a towel and placing him in between the collar of her robe. 

“He was hiding between the neighbours shed and their garage. So at least he didn’t get far. It was just difficult to get him out of there,” Minho explained. Y/N threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, but was careful not to squish Bubbles between the two of them.

“Woah woah- I’m wet. Don’t make yourself cold when you just finally dried off.” 

She grabbed one of the other towels she had prepared and wrapped him in it, similarly to the way he had done it for her not even thirty minutes prior. “Now it’s your turn to shower. Please. I put some of your clothes in the bathroom. Just leave your wet ones on the side of the tub and I'll put them to wash and dry as soon as you’re done.” 

Minho didn’t hesitate much, knowing how good a shower would be right now, especially since he didn’t want to have an excuse to leave just yet. While he warmed up Y/N planted herself on the couch and began to carefully blow dry Bubbles. She just hoped that he hadn’t been outside long enough to get sick. His immune system was already poor enough, so an illness no matter how mild, paired with his sight issues and his weak immune system… it was too much for Y/N to handle on her own. 

It wasn’t long before Minho came back out into the living room in his dry clothes. His hair was still damp and clinging to his neck so Y/N called him over. She pulled him down to the floor in front of her on the couch, having his back nestle between her knees while she began drying his hair with another towel. Bubbles laid peacefully, purring on the couch beside her and wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Meanwhile, Y/N ran her finger through Minho’s almost dried hair, trying to detangle the knots from his head. The moment was silent and intimate. Nobody dared to speak and ruin the comfortable silence between them as she continued to fuss with his hair. At some point he began to lean to one side, pressing his cheek to the inside of her knee and resting his head on her. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He simply hummed in response and closed his eyes. Her skin was soft and supple. He remembers how it felt when their legs would tangle while cuddling on their shared bed. She had a habit of wrapping her legs with his. The squish of her thighs were addicting to him when he would kneed them absentmindedly while watching a movie. He just missed her and the silly little habits the two of them shared. 

Her heart was racing at the press of his cheek against her. It was weirdly intimate but wholesome at the exact same time. She tried to hide the buzzing in her chest by acting like this was normal to her still, regardless if it had been months since she had any type of physical contact from him like this. She had to force herself to remain calm since she had so many questions and concerns in her head. Right now the surprise contact and charged atmosphere were the least of her concerns.

“I’m sorry I called you…”

“Don’t even worry. I’m glad you called me.”

“I just feel bad because you ran through the rain all because of some miscommunication and poor reception. Especially since you might catch a cold because of me.”

“Miscommunication seems to be our thing, huh?” he playfully joked, “and for the record I’d get sick for you a hundred times over if I thought I was helping you. I’m here whenever you need me.” 

A small smile crept onto her face at his words. She finally pulled the towel off his head to reveal his dried fluffy hair and placed it on the floor beside him. “Well Bubbles certainly appreciates your white knight behaviour.”

“What can I say? I have to save our son from the weather.”

Our son… 

“Also- my behaviour might not necessarily be fueled by the ‘knight in shining armour’ you were thinking. I have my own ulterior motives as to why I’m here” he said with a smirk, now turning back to look at her. He got to his knees, folding his arms over her lap and looking up at her with a devilish smile. His eyes were wide and glossy, a hint of devilish thoughts behind his pupils. It was that type of look you didn’t know to interpret as mischievous in a wholesome way or if he was going to commit arson. With Minho… honestly it was a 50/50. 

“Oh?”

“I thought you were in trouble. I wanted to save you so your heart would swoon.”

The amount of idiocy that left her mouth in response could make a spoon look sharp, “like in a friend way?”

His mouth immediately cracked open with furrowed brows. He couldn’t believe that she would say something so stupid. “In a friend way?? What friends do you have that are trying to make your heart swoon?”

“Uh- Changbin? I don’t know! You broke up with me! I don’t want to misinterpret this!?” she shouted back at him. A scowl formed on her face as she crossed her arms and laid back on the couch. He couldn’t help but burst out into laughter and grab her arms. He attempted to uncross them with his hands and pulled her forward again.

“No. Not in a friendly way, you idiot. I’m trying to win you back.”

“Well calling me an idiot isn’t the way to start” she mumbled to herself, letting her arms be controlled by his hands. 

“Fair enough. Let me try again. What I'm trying to say is I’m sorry for making you have doubts about my intentions in our relationship and for making you question my love for you. I know I can be a bit of a pain in the ass, sarcastic, and not very touchy-feely, but I should’ve listened to you when you said you were feeling like you had to beg for my love. The truth is, I don’t know where I would be without you and these last few months have been absolute hell. I feel like a huge part of me is missing without you. I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you and would you take me back?” Minho’s hands gripped onto hers, still kneeling on the ground in front of her. It honestly felt more like he was begging because of the awkward position.

“I don’t- um. I feel like an idiot if I say yes so quickly,” she stumbled out.

“I will let you touch me.”

Her face immediately went bright red; dropping his hands from hers and placing them over her mouth. 

“I meant cuddling!” he burst out laughing, “What are you? A pervert?” 

“Why would you say it like that?!” 

Minho doubled over and wiped the joyful tears out of his eyes, barely able to catch his breath. “God, you haven’t changed much.”

“You know what. Fuck you! No!” she laughed back at him. She began shoving his torso away with her foot as he laid across the ground in front of the couch. After a few minutes of laughter Minho finally was able to collect himself and bring himself onto the couch beside Y/N and Bubbles. 

“I am serious though. I know we need to have a long talk, but would you be open to a discussion about us? I really want you back in my life. I want to be us again, but more reliant on each other and willing to communicate.” 

She pursed her lips together while giving it a minuscule thought, “Well… I’m sure Bubbles would like to not be a child of divorce anymore.”

“Ah so you’re willing to give us a chance for the baby?”

“Hmm. I guess so” she teased. 

“You know what. I’ll take it. I don’t even want to argue if that means getting to come home to you again.”

“We really do need to talk about it though. We need to discuss boundaries and expectations so then something like this doesn’t happen again.” 

Minho just smiled in response, pulling her in by her waist and planting a big kiss on her cheek. “You know you haven’t really said you love me either…”

She just rolled her eyes playfully before planting a single kiss on his lips, “I love you, you big idiot.”

“I love you even more.”

[tamoscringecorner]

SPAMTON X TENNA HEADCANONS!! [Freaky edition!] 📺💲

(God, the censors really ARE gonna kill me for this one…)

-Whenever Tenna is hot and bothered he drags Spamton to his private office and pins his small frame under him forcing him to say he 'loves loves LOVES TV' over and over again until he gets the guts to make a move on him

-Whenever Tenna is aroused or has an H.O he typically just tugs on his collar and clothing while letting out muffled whimpers and pleas for Spamtan to help becuase it's so overwhelming and 'just too darn much for a humble TV host like myself?!'

-Tenna doesn't fully understand how his robotic body can still feel arousal so whenever he feels any form of it he finds it hard to think and his whole system overheats with his fans whirling to cool him off

-Spamton gets the biggest ego to boast and his ego skyrockets so much whenever Tenna asks him for help, so during it he makes sure to mumble out that 'he's doing so good [LITTLE SPONGE]' or some glitched out non-sense about he is his angel, whatever that means to cool his nerves

-Sometimes Tenna bothers Spamton to fix his wires or system during his smoke break (he's a CRIPPLING everything addict) or whenever he is pissed off just so that he won't hold back is rougher with him and openly smoking while doing so, blowing it into his face accidentally, Tenna constantly nags Spamton for smoking and his addictions but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like the feeling of it in his face

-Spamton has a major smoking and everything in general problem so during it he mostly smokes and blows it in Tenna's face just to mess with him and see his flustered reaction

-Tenna's antennas and wires are extremely sensitive and if Spamton or frankly anyone for that matter is too rough with them that alone causes him to finish

-During it, Tenna often bites down on his antennas to hold back from making his 'silly embarrassing noises!' but fails most of the time with that just resulting in Spamton forcefully prying his mouth open and tugging on his fangs letting them bite onto his small puppet hand, covering it in bite marks and saliva just to keep hearing 'his Angel's sweet [HEART SHAPED OBJECT] noises!?!'

-Whenever Tenna is whining about Spamton being too rough or over some stupid shit like 'You didn't say you LOVED TV! It just sounded like mildly liked it at BEST!' to him, to shut him up Spamton just groans rolling his eyes, and presses his lit cigarette against his neck and licks over the burn mark while gently biting down and sucking on the sensitive mark, which never fails to make Tenna shut up about whatever he was bitching about

-Tenna is extremely touch starved and even a minor stroke has him clawing at his desk and whining for him to 'slow the hell down!?', frankly Spamton finds this pretty annoying so out of spite for telling him what to do he speeds up his pace just a *little* bit.

-Whenever Tenna's close he whines a lot more than usual and tears up while just begging and trembling for Spamton to stop and that 'it's too much, so wrong!'

[Fluff parts!!]

-When they are done Spamton typically makes Tenna a cup of.. soap water, he can't afford coffee or at least wasn't able to before so he used to make this to 'also get that [2.99 GOOD PRICE] good coffee feeling!' so he thinks this and that are basically the same, none of the less Tenna accepts it with a smile and just gags it out later-

-For comfort, Tenna often lays his head on Spamton's lap and whines for him to play with his wires or antennas and refuses to get up until he does so, almost like an oversized puppy

-Tenna has the BIGGEST weakness for pet names that start with 'my' or 'my pretty boy' and Spamton KNOWSS this and always makes sure to say it every 2 seconds just so that Tenna's screen will glitch out and his fans will start swirling

-Spamton looks up to Tenna but a part of him feels bad for leaving, Tenna looks up to Spamton and feels guilty about not doing anything more to help him

-When Tenna saw the place Spamton was living in he GAGGED and just blurted out 'YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?!?' with Spamton just pushing up his glasses and saying smugly 'Impressed [ANGEL CAKE]?' with Tenna just shouting 'N-NO?!' well.. and THEN shouting louder once he saw one of the rat friends Spamton acquired while living in the dumpster, well... one of many at least

-Spamtan hates mirrors since he hates looking at himself and his new form, also since the last time he saw one was when he smashed it after revealing the 'phone person' left him, due to this Tenna makes sure to remove all the mirrors Spamton's height in the studio, despite how many he has because he's addicted to looking at himself (douchebag much?)

-Whenever Spamton reveals he has good news or is in a good mood he likes to kiss the tip of Tenna's nose and jsut blurt out 'I LOVE TV! YOU LITTLE [1990 SALSEMEN]!!' with a big goofy smile on his face

-Whenever Tenna is happy or has received news that his show is doing better he doesn't say much and instead picks up Spamton and twirls him around while chuckling as Spamton's pleas and yelps to 'be put down you lil [DIRTY SPONGE]!!'

Er.. sorry how long this took to come out guys, I've been really despressed.. and found out I have autism ADHD and DID.. so- you know what, the autism thing was fuckin obvious, speakin of obvious, is it OBVIOUS I have a major hard on for these sad idiots? Anyways.. kinda tempted to make a uh.. before the break up thing too?

Alright that's all, you people are perverts who sicken me TAKE THIS

 Romans 8:28 - And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

[dee-writes-anime]

**suicide topics!! skip if you’re uncomfy!**

helloo!! i love your work and wanted to request something 😅 I was wondering if you could do a dadzawa fic but reader is his student, not his daughter. basically she tells him about her past attempts and suicidal tendencies. she’s done her best recovering but needed to get it off her chest one day.

Rooftop Admissions

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader (PLATONIC)

SUMMARY it’s on a rooftop in the middle of the night that you finally break and Aizawa is there to guide you through it.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of past suicide attempts, suicidal ideation, recovery, vending machine coffee, please please read at your own discretion YOUR MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS

AUTHORS NOTE I hope I did your ask justice anon and I hope you are doing well yourself. If any of you ever need someone to talk to, please please don't silence yourself. I love each and every one of you, take care of yourselves and never forget that you are enough.

The rooftop was quiet.

Not peaceful, not exactly—it was the kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder. Wind scraped against the railing, and the hum of the city below filled the spaces you couldn’t.

You weren’t supposed to be up here. Not this late. Not alone.

But that hadn’t stopped you before.

You sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, cheek resting on your arms. Your breath fogged faintly in the cool night air. You hadn’t even noticed the door open.

Not until you heard the familiar drag of boots across the rooftop.

You tensed instinctively, already preparing your excuse—until you heard his voice.

“You always pick the worst places to sulk.”

Aizawa’s tone wasn’t scolding, just matter-of-fact. He didn’t wait for a response. Just walked over and, without asking, lowered himself to sit beside you, cross-legged and tired like he always was. He smelled faintly like coffee and cold air and that weird wool soap he used on his capture weapon.

“I’m not sulking,” you muttered, keeping your head down.

“Brooding, then,” he said. “My mistake.”

You didn’t answer. Just stared at the ground, at your shoes, at the space between them.

He waited.

That was the thing about Aizawa. He didn’t push. He didn’t pry. He didn’t talk to fill the silence like most people did. He just waited—for you to speak, or not. And somehow, that made it harder not to.

“I’m not in trouble, right?” you asked finally, your voice thin.

“No.”

“…Then why’d you follow me?”

He shrugged. “You looked like you needed someone.”

You blinked hard. Your throat stung for a reason you didn’t want to name. You’d come up here to be alone, but now that he was here—now that it was him—the weight in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable.

There was another long pause. You could’ve left it there. Could’ve let the quiet wrap around you again.

But something in you cracked open.

“I tried to kill myself.”

The words came out like a breath you’d been holding for too long. Flat. Quiet. Unshakably true.

Aizawa didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He just let the silence hold it for a second, like he was honoring it, not judging it.

“When?” he asked gently.

“Before UA. Before any of this. It was… bad for a while. I didn’t see the point in anything. I didn’t think I had a future, so what was the use in trying to reach one?”

You finally looked at him.

He wasn’t staring at you with pity. Just calm, steady attention—listening the way he always did in class, but deeper. Like this mattered more.

“I got help. I got better, for the most part. I’ve been okay for a while now,” you added, quick, needing him to know. “I’m not in danger. I just—I needed to say it. Out loud. For once.”

“I’m glad you did.”

You nodded, throat tight. “I don’t want you to think I’m… weak.”

“I don’t.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“You think I haven’t seen strength in people who struggle?” he added. “You showed up every day this week with a half-healed shoulder and still trained like hell. You protect your classmates when you think no one’s watching. That’s not weakness.”

You swallowed.

“I hated myself,” you whispered. “For a long time. Even now, some days… it’s hard not to slip back into that mindset. Like I’m just waiting for the next thing to go wrong. And I’m so tired, Aizawa-sensei. I’m so tired of pretending like I never felt that way. Like it’s all behind me.”

You rubbed your eyes with your sleeves, angry at the sting.

“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly.

You looked at him.

“For getting here. For surviving that. For telling me.”

That hit harder than you expected. You turned your face away, trying to bite back the emotion crawling up your throat.

“I know you're not in crisis right now,” he continued carefully, “but I need to say this—because it’s part of my job, and because I care. I have to report when a student discloses something like this. Not to punish you. Just to make sure you're supported.”

You stiffened. The fear was immediate.

“I said I’m fine—”

“And I believe you,” he said, cutting off your panic before it could spiral. “But it’s not about doubting you. It’s about making sure you stay that way. I’ll talk to Cementoss. He’s discreet, and you already have a file from your initial UA counseling intake, so this won’t be a shock to him.”

You nodded reluctantly.

“He won’t make you sit through another drawn-out evaluation unless you want to. But he will want to check in. That’s it.”

You let out a long, slow breath. It didn’t erase the tension in your chest—but it helped. Just a little.

Aizawa leaned back on his hands, glancing up at the stars.

“You know,” he said, more to the sky than to you, “when I was a student, I hated talking. Hated the way people tried to fix things without understanding. Sometimes all I wanted was for someone to see me. Not as a problem. Just… see me.”

You looked at him again. His hair was loose around his shoulders, and for once, he looked his age. Tired. Human.

“You’re not a burden,” he said, more firmly now. “And you're not broken. I see the effort you put in every day. That counts.”

You wiped your face on your sleeve. “Thanks for not treating me like glass.”

“You’re not made of glass,” he said. “You’re steel. Just been through the fire.”

That was the closest thing to poetry you'd ever heard from him.

He stood slowly, stretching out his legs, and held out a hand to help you up. You took it.

“You wanna get some vending machine coffee?” he asked. “Tastes like regret, but it’s warm.”

You snorted softly. “Sounds like my type.”

He smiled, just faintly. “That’s concerning, but I’ll allow it.”

You followed him back inside.

Not fixed. Not healed. But held.

[karlachismylife]

I told you this thing needed to be longer. So I made it longer. Comrade @panchulien I know you're not too fond of x reader stuff, but you can imagine anyone there, really. Even though I personally don't believe Makarov could ever love Nolan like that. I also think it's not too reader-heavy, it's mostly just Nolan getting fucked by someone.

CW: NSFW (MDNI), bottom!sub!Nolan x top!dom!gn!reader, reader is described as having a cock (could be strap if you want), I'm so not normal about Nolan's jaw again, dog motif (duh), body worship of some kind, Nolan-centred, affectionate, gentle sex, mentions of emotional tears.

He's on his knees. That's a place for a dog at its owner's heel; Andrei finds dignity in kneeling with his spine straight, broad shoulders spread and arms firmly clasped behind his back, showing off the muscle definition under a thick layer of fat and discipline. There's a certain smugness about this - he takes pride in the inability of such a position to humiliate him. Nolan thinks of it as a test, a chance to prove himself as the right breed of men, those who write history on the inside of his skull.

Nolan doesn't know shit.

He's sitting there, chest out, ready for the divine judgement or a whip; and he flinches with his breath pathetically hitching when instead fingers brush over the pointy tip of his ear. It makes shivers run down his neck, a single fingertip traces the faintly cropped cartilage shell and leaves - Nolan's ear immediately feels cold, flushed, heated skin too full of pumping blood against the cool air. He tries preparing for the next touch, staring ahead of himself stubbornly and only noting the steps circling him with his hearing and periferal vision, but it's futile - a firm grip digs into the soft dips right under his bulldog jaw, squeezing him between thumb and forefinger with the rest of them brushing along the heavy jawline, Andrei clenches his teeth to stay in control and loses it with the first press of warm lips to the corner of his jaw.

It's a soft, dry peck, melting the tension in his neck muscles and allowing the hand holding him to tilt his head back, forcing another involuntary breath out and sliding the ceiling with its dancing shadows to the centre of Nolan's vision. He blinks, twice in a row accidentally, shadows of his long feathery lashes dripping down his strong cheekbones, and forces his eyes to stay in place, fighting the animalistic instinct to galnce at the face inching in towards him. Andrei doesn't react when the tip of a warm nose nuzzles into his square cheek, but leaning so close you can easily hear the unevenness of his breathing, feel the heat radiating off his bare skin, see the nostrils of many times broken nose flare and flutter.

Nolan smells good. His bold, cheap aftershave is subdued - Andrei shaved clean a few hours ago and let it air out; smooth, warm, moisturized skin has a fresh sheen to it. As your curious nose glides along the jawline, it picks up on Andrei's own masculine scent with a musky oiliness to it - when he doesn't flinch even after being nudged up his chin, wet, hot tongue drags back from his chin to his ear, tasting little bumps and scars his imperfect skin bears and teasing the soft, weak spot right behind his earlobe.

It's enough to make him finally break the silence and gasp - and you drink it in, pressing your nose into the shaven side of his head, clearly smelling of recently applied hair product mixed with the exertion sweat stuck in the roots of slicked back hair. Nolan groomed himself well for this evening, exposing his vain desire to be acknowledged and noted like a contest dog, polished hide and packed chest - and he loses ground under his feet when met with an inexplicable adoration for something beyond his strength and obedience.

His head spins, fingers digging into meaty forearms to keep them folded behind his back, when hot breath kisses along his ear and then pulls away - with lips parted and eyes unwillingly half-lidded, Andrei leans sideways towards the slipping warmth and with a gentle push of the hand still cupping his jaw gets tipped over like an unbalanced pendulum. When Nolan's heavy core hits the mattress, it dips under his weight, dark purple sheets bunching up like rays straying from his fallen form - a cotton halo surrounding an unsaint, lying in a pose of a fetus facing execution via fire squad.

When he fels a palm press into the back of his head and fingers tangle into his hair, messing up an already ruined polished style, he expects to be pushed face down into the mattress or have his neck cracked with force pulling it back; instead, there's a gentle tug teasing his scalp with just enough tension for it to be pleasant and keep him exactly in his place. Goosebumps rush down his neck and get caught with a soft kiss to his nape, with each following growing more insistent as Nolan lays there, cheek pressed against slightly rough textile grate and body flushed with the heat of another pressing up against his back. Andrei winces, baring his teeth at the sensation of a small hickey being left under the thin golden chain he kept around his neck, and inhales deeply, tensing up immediately when a hand slides under his arm to touch his chest. He tries to keep the muscle firm and fails as soon as you nuzzle him between his shoulder blades, deflating and resting soft flesh in the open offered palm.

Instead of squeezing harshly and fondling him like a piece of prime meat or a breeding stud, you trace the shape and knead his pec until his breath hitches again at a certain spot. His nipples are dark pink and firm, sensitivity dulled, but still there to be coaxed to the surface with a few careful twists. Andrei doesn't squirm, but the illussion of his stillness is easily shattered up close, with the rapid, shallow movements of his chest, his grip on his own arms slipping and relaxing and the muscles in his thighs twitching in a desperate attempt to relieve at least some tension in his groin. His cock has already made a mess on the sheets, thick head peeking from under paler foreskin and drooling onto the bed, and it twitches when you slide your hand down his stomach, pressing into the softness above his pelvis - and Nolan lets out another sharp exhale.

His voice shows only with the first languid drag of a cock in his ass. It's a growling, stretched out, low moan - Andrei moves his jaw, as if hoping to bite into the sheet and silence himself, and lets out another, much more whiny noise when you thrust again and brush a kiss against the corner of his lips, slightly wet from the foaming drool. Nolan's vocal in a hissy, growly way - his nose stays scrunched and his face is heated red, but his whole big, burly body accepts each thrust with eager softness, clenching around the slowly stretching him shaft.

He lets gentle hands fold his leg more, opening him up for a deeper push, and blinks too fast, hiding tiny, worthless to a jeweler diamonds of short-lived emotional tears. Another hand slips under his heavy head, creating a cool barrier between his overheating cheek and dark cotton of the sheets, and turns him enough for another short kiss before his breath gets broken into tiny gasps and pants with the quickening pace of the thrusts. Andrei clenches his teeth again, closing his eyes shut, and cums.

It ruins him, as if all the tension and stength go into shooting tight white ropes unwilling to seep into the dark fabric fast enough - his voice cuts through the ragged breath with a loud whine, his shoulders slump bonelessly and the ripples sliding through his body don't even have enough power in them to make him clench properly around the slowing down cock. Pressing deeply into him and hugging his thick form, you can feel the shudders coursing under his warm skin, making his fingers twitch as he finally pulls his arms from behind his back and paws at the sheet trying to anchor himself.

There's some fullness in him, different from the satisfyingly filling him dick; it's nesting in his lower belly, heavy and warm, replacing the sharp tightness of arousal and climax - it's disturbingly spiritual for him. Andrei stretches his legs tenatively. He wants to expect a harsh change of pace and mood - a slap for disobedience or a merciless pounding now that he showed his weakness - but this expectation doesn't come naturally to him anymore, as if something fundamental has just been shifted in his core.

Carefully, as if testing if he is allowed still, Nolan reaches back and instead of a slap or a mocking chuckle finds warm closeness of a body immediately leaning into a hug. Offering your neck for him to cling onto, you rest your chin on his shoulder and, as soon as Andrei turns his face, press a full kiss into his mouth.

Nolan doesn't know shit. But there is someone who knows him - and loves him enough to show him too.

[snzydarling]

omggggg can i request megumi who gets hit with a cursed spirit that makes him sooo sneezy and he’s so grumpy that he cannot control it

Hi I want you to know that im actually in love with you for this request..... thank u so much....

Safe as Houses

megumi, yuuji, established ita/fushi (JJK) cw: snz kink content !!!! lots of mess notes: hi i litr feel like i hijacked this so I hope u still like it (;´∀｀) i rlly tried to just let myself write however I wanted to which is what you can thank the mess 4.... ... obvi this takes place post - canon in the pro sorcerer / evb lives au !! Hope u all enjoy (^ー^)

All things considered, Yuuji was having a great day. 

They were called to a small cluster of grade-1 curses hiding out in an abandoned factory, weak enough that the two of them had split up early on. Megumi had summoned his dog and went off to a side hallway while Yuuji travelled down the main path. Besides the faint warbling of curses, everything had been silent in his direction. 

Yuuji was traveling with an extra hop in his step. It wasn’t often they got to do jobs together- the shortage of sorcerers was never-ending, even though the number of curses was nowhere near what it used to be. It was their last job of the day, too, so they had the rest of the night together. He’d just finished off the last curse- some big, hulking thing, and was wiping thick blood from his hands when his phone started ringing. 

It took a second for him to find it. His screen lit up with Megumi’s contact name and picture- one of him with a hint of a smile on his face, on his birthday, with frosting smeared on the corner of his mouth. 

He answers, and there’s nothing besides breathing. “Megumi? What’s up?” He can’t pretend there isn’t worry seeping into his voice. The veil must’ve lifted, but he still could’ve been injured. He tries again. “Megs? Are you okay?” Finally, some noise comes. Sniffling, then more breathing, then sneezing. 

“hH’cshh - tZch - i’tzhh -! H’tszh - tzchh-!” Megumi gasps for breath, and it crackles through the phone. “ ‘tzshh - t’SCHhiew-  ! YuhH - Yuuji-” Yuuji sighs with relief, and clutches his heart. It hammers against his palm. 

“Megumi! Bless-“ he’s cut off by another gasp, then a flurry of sneezes. “ ‘tZSHh - ‘tzsh - ‘tschh - i’ZSCHhi-!” “Bless you!” He tries again. “You okay?” 

“k’tCHh - i’tZCHh-! I can- can-tSZHhi-! Shit!” The sound of wet, vigorous scrubbing comes through the speaker. Yuuji frowns. “Where are you?” He brings the speaker up to his ear to listen for Kuro barking, but he's silent. 

“Don’t come over-” He breaks off into coughing. Itchy, breathless coughing, like he’s allergic to something. “ ‘ktZCHh-! I’kszhh - tzshh-! i’tZSHhiewh-! Ugh. Don’t come over, Yuuji, i’IZSHh-! ‘ktzshh- tZShh-! I’m not-iZSHhih!” Yuuji can hear him throw an angry hand up. “Megumi, what’s wrong?” 

“ N - Nothing! Just go - iH’KZSHhi-! Just go home. hH- it’TCHhi-!” Kuro growls at something in the distance. Probably just expressing his owner's irritation. Something must be wrong, but he can’t find Megumi like this. His energy is too faint.  

He can’t just leave him, though, even if Megumi is too stubborn to realize that. His sneezes are always fitish and pitchy, but this is a different level. He can’t seem to even communicate, so something must be wrong. Kuro seems fine, so he tries something else. 

“Kuro, speak!” Obedient, it barks. Yuuji had been trying to train him like a dog for years, and it's finally worked out. If Megumi was okay, he’d tell him he told him so. 

Yuuji makes quick work of finding Megumi. Kuro meets him in the doorway, tail wagging. The curse is gone, so he must’ve already eaten. 

Even though he loves Kuro, he's not his priority. He has to scan the room for a second to find Megumi, hiding in the corner. He looks like he's sulking. The lights are on in the building, but they’re old, so he's shrouded in shadows. His head is down, and Yuuji kind of feels like he should approach him like a scared animal. 

The floorboards are old. They creak under his step. Megumi jerks up- weird, because he should’ve already felt his energy, but Yuuji doesn’t get the chance to figure out what’s wrong. 

“ ‘tSZhhi - tSCHhih-! ih’TZSHhih! ikZSHh-!” His energy crackles and pops, almost like it's mad. Megumi curls over into his elbow. “ ‘tZSHhi-! ’iSSHh - iZSHhi-!” When Yuuji tries to approach, he’s met with a shaky palm, like some kind of barrier. Kuro barks at him from the doorway. “  iH’kZSHhi-!  iH’TzCHhi-! G-hH! go away, Yuuji’tZSHhi- ‘tzsHh-!” Poor guy. He’s not reacting to him, is he? Just to test it, he steps back, but Megumi keeps sneezing. 

“ ‘tZCHh-! I’kTZHhh - i’tZSHhi-!” If he can get near, he’s fine to touch him, right? Megumi pulls away when he sits next to him, but he can’t do much else. 

Gently as he can, Yuuji pries Megumi’s face from his elbow and lifts him up. As much as he wants to respect his privacy and everything, it kind of seems like he can’t breathe right now. He’s sniffling all needily, nose scrunched like he's trying not to sneeze again. It doesn’t last. 

“ hH - hI’tZShhi-! ‘zshh - kZSHh - k’tChh-!” He tries to turn away, hiding the next flurry in cupped hands. This one gives him a second to breathe, thank God. Each inhale is punctuated by sniffles. 

Yuuji can finally get a good look at him then. His face is flushed red and wet. Tear tracks run down his cheeks, and there’s dampness under his nose that he's trying hard to sniffle back. Yuuji tries to find some tissues, but comes up empty. After just a moment, Megumi suddenly starts writhing away. 

“ ‘iZSCHhi- ! Yuuji-!” He’d kind of forgotten he was holding him. He lets go with a sorry that Megumi probably doesn’t hear. “ k’ZSCHh-! ‘Izshh - tzSHh - hHi-! hH’iZSCHh-iew!” Each release is messier than his typical sneeze. Megumi confirms this with a string of mess clinging to his lip when he pulls away from his hands. 

Megumi jerks away even further, face beet red, but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to get Megumi out of here. 

Yuuji tries to think as Megumi tries to clean himself up. The material of his uniform is rough, leaving his nose red, and it irritates it even more because the next fit is Megumi’s most desperate yet. He gasps into it, and it sounds like a whine. 

“ ‘tZSHhi-! hI’kZSHh - i’kZSHhi-! it‘TZCHhi-!” It’s times like these when Yuuji wishes they knew sign language, like Inumaki and Yuuta do. They can both say things like ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘okay’, and he’s pretty sure he remembers most of the alphabet, but Megumi obviously isn’t okay, and he probably couldn’t keep his hands free for long enough to say anything. The same goes for their phones. 

“  iH’KZSHhi-! ‘iZSCh- t’ZSCHh-iewh-!” Finishing off the yet irritated and kind of loud for Megumi, clears him out in the form of glistening wetness down his chin. His sleeves are already wet and clearly not helping much, but the fabric of Yuuji’s outfit is softer. He offers his sleeve quietly, and Megumi kind of snarls at him and scrubs his nose against his shoulder instead. 

It leaves a wet patch, and Megumi hitches again. Yuuji thinks he looks cute when he's trying not to sneeze, usually, all fluttering eyelashes and parted lips, but he’s too worried to cook over it right now. He hopes the last one gave them a second to talk and tries again. 

“Megumi, what happened?” He gets a sideways glare, but Megumi eventually stutters out “A curse.” It’s breathless, like his lungs are too busy fluttering to give him enough air to talk. “Can I see your face?” If Yuuji asks, maybe he’ll be less snappy. It doesn’t work. 

Instead, Megumi shakes his head, unable to actually answer. It’d probably be kind of mean if he could. When he discovers it again, seconds later, it's turned even further away from Yuuji. 

“ h’tZSCHh-! ‘izshh - tzSHh - iSCHh-  hH-! hI’iZSCHh-iew!” It seems like holding them back really isn’t doing him any good. The hand he puts on his back only lasts until he's done sneezing, then he gets shoved off. 

“Why are you being so weird?” He asks, before he can help it. They were over this months ago, Megumi’s tendency to push away. The wall between them is physical now.

”Because-” Megumi breaks off to sniffle desperately. “I’m gross,” he murmurs. There’s something deeper there; he can hear it in Megumi’s tone, but Yuuji doesn’t feel like pushing. He’d rather focus on the more physical problem. 

Every time Megumi sneezes, his cursed energy pops and sparks, and Kuro phases with it. When Megumi muffles a rapid “ ‘kZSHh - i’ZChh - i’tZCHhi-!” into his shoulder, Kuro warps into half-melted shadow before returning to normal once he's done, so he can’t carry Megumi. That means all of the shadows are out of the question, and Yuuji can’t summon any shikigami. Looks like Megumi is gonna have to suck it up. 

“I know-“ “ ‘IZSHh-u!” “Bless you! I know you don't want to, but I’m gonna have to carry you.” Megumi scowls. “I can walk.” He grumbles, standing up tall like it’ll prove a point to Yuuji. Jeez, he's in a bad mood. 

They last all of a few seconds like that. Megumi, face flushed and scrunched and quivering, and Yuuji hovering awkwardly. It isn’t much of a surprise to either of them when Megumi breaks the silence, no matter how hard he's fighting it. 

“hI’tZShhi-! ‘zshh - iZSHh - k’tChh-! hH-! iZSCh - zSHh - tZSHu-!” He takes in another rapid set of gasps, taking the time to glare at Yuuji’s concerned face. “ ‘IZSHh- ‘ZSHhi - hHi’TZSHh-! hI - idZSHh - tzSHh - tSCHhi -!’

God, he can’t stop. Something about trying to hold them back, maybe? The next set is broken only by a need for air. Yuuji grabs his shoulders, holding him steady while he sneezes and sneezes. 

Once he catches a lance of Megumi between cycles of gasping breaths and rapid releases, there’s strings of mess clinging to his lips. The next inhale is basically a whimper, head Theon back like he's praying for something. The fluorescent light shines against the dampness painted on his face.

“ ‘tZSHh - iH’tZSCHh-iew!” Immune system or curse or whatever it is momentarily satisfied, he slumps a little against Yuuji. One hand comes to scrub at his nose, mess ticking against his skin. Yuuji rubs his hand along his shoulder, frowning when they’re already trembling with uneven breaths. 

“Just try to let them out.” He says and hopes Megumi is too tired to keep fighting him. He gets a look beneath weighed-down eyelashes. His face crumbles again, but it's a little softer this time. 

“hH’iSHhi-! i’ZSHh - it’ZSHhiew-!” Once again, he's left sniffling the mess for a second. Yuuji breathes with him. “Bless you! Can we go home now?” It’s starting to get chilly, and Megumi’s in need of a good mose blow. He sort of wants to call Ieri too, and see if they can do anything about this. 

Megumi shakes his head. “Ill- iZSHh-yu! I can’t really walk.” Yuuji pats his shoulder a few times. He looks really pathetic. Megumi shrugs him off, like he can read his thoughts. “I’ll carry you!” 

“I’ll sn-i’ZSHh- ! Sne-e’tZSHh-yu! Damn.” Megumi sighs, gesturing vaguely instead like he is saying ‘you get the point.’ Yuuji does. Frankly. He’s had enough of Megumi on him that he’s beyond caring, but he might shove him away if he says that. 

“Bless you! I don’t mind, promise.” Even if he did, his worry about Megumi would’ve overpowered it. It’s not like they have much choice anyway. Megumi huffs. He opens his mouth to say something, probably argues more, but he takes a quick breath and dissolves again instead. 

“ hH’kZSHh-! ‘dZSH-yh!” At least they’re softer, even if they drip snot down his lip. “ ‘dshh - tZch - i’tzshh -! hd’tSh-  H’dtszh-iew!”. The rapid-release flurry seems to drain whatever fight’s left in him. 

   Yuuji kneels, wincing when the coldness of concrete seeps through his pants. Megumi presses against his back for a second, about to get on, but then Yuuji feels his chest expand and the contact is gone again. 

“hD’zZSHh-yu!” Megumi sniffles lots of times behind him. When he gets on his back, Yuuji can hear his stuffy breath in his ear, warming his neck. 

They make it about a minute before he's sneezing again, long enough to make it a few paces down the street. If the way Megumi’s chest has been stuttering against him is anything to go by, it's only because he was holding back again. 

“‘dZShu - iZSHh - ‘tZSHh - iD’ZSHh-yh!” Megumi’s elbow brushes against his back. A couple droplets of mess land on his neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. With every release, Yuuji feels tired muscles clench against him. Another rapid triple finished off this set, all contained in one breath. Megumi sighs out a “sorry” at the same time as Yuuji calls back a “Bless you!” 

Yuuji tried to keep track of how much Megumi sneezed on the way back, but he lost track pretty quickly. They’re slowing down, just enough for him to get a sentence in. Two, if he talks quickly. 

After a moment of fumbling with the keys, Yuuji deposits Megumi on the couch and finds him a change of clothes. He blows his nose for a long time, muffles a percussive “ d’zshhi - ‘dtZShh - idT’SHhi-!”, then has to blow again into a new tissue. Yuuji sits in the kitchen watching him through the steam of the kettle. The congestion has all settled, which has been making him cough and his voice crackle in his throat. Besides, Megumi’s getting annoyed with all his worrying, so the kitchen is probably a good place for him to be. 

Megumi jumps a little when the kettle blows. Yuuji’s pretty sure he was starting to fall asleep, which is really cute, but he's got to stay awake long enough to talk and shake and take a bath. He grabs a box of tea that’s energy boosting, according to the box, and puts a bunch of honey into Megumi’s, because that's supposed to help irritated throats. 

He’s sneezing into the sleeve of a worn sweatshirt when he enters back into the living room. Softly, a tickly sounding “ hH’tzshh - ‘tsHh-iewh!” that seems a lot better now that he's not so stuffed up. 

He takes the cup with both hands, nodding his gratitude. There’s already a damp spot on his sleeve. Yuuji plops down with a contented sigh, bumping their shoulders together. He sips his own tea, some blend of citrus and vanilla that warms his whole body. 

He gets so comfortable that he almost forgets about calling for a second, just until Megumi starts tensing next to him again. 

“ ‘tzsHhih! hH’zshh-! i’tSHh-yu!” He moves his face from cotton to tissues, sniffling. “Bless you,” Yuuji says, fumbling around for his phone. He thinks he dropped it for a second, heart sinking because having to get a new phone would really suck, but it turns out he had just moved it to his jacket pocket before picking Megumi up. 

Ieri answers on the fifth ring, voice soft and tired. “Hey. What’s up?” Looking at the time, it's actually pretty late. He doesn’t get to apologize, though, because another voice cuts through. 

“Itadori! Yeah, what’s up? Your mission go okay? Gojo. Megumi stiffens next to him, sending a look that’s watery and a little distressed. Telling Ieri you can’t stop sneezing is one thing- she might huff out a laugh, but it's right to business after that. Gojo is an entirely different beast. 

“Hi! It went well! It’s just, um.” Megumi kicks him in the shins, albeit gently. Looking over at him again, his nose is twitching with a promise. “Just what? Are you embarrassed about something?” Megumi mutters something like ‘mute the phone’ between breaths, but Yuuji thinks that might make him even more suspicious. 

“No! Mgumi’s got kind of an issue. He got hit and now he-" “ ‘IZSHh- ‘dZSh - hHd’TZSHh - ‘dZSHh-yh!” Megumi interrupts him in rapid succession.  giving him just a second to breathe before his eyelids flutter shut again. Once he finally finishes sneezing and starts sniffling into a tissue, his ears are red. Yuuji murmurs “bless you” and gets a glare as thanks. 

There’s silence on the other end. Yuuji can almost see his face. Ieri, half disgusted and half curious, and Gojo. Grinning ear to ear because Megumi’s unlucky enough that his sneezes are so obviously him. 

“Woah, Megumi! Bless you! You catch something?” He can hear the smile. Megumi sniffs, moving the tissues away from his face to talk. “No.” Is all he says. Ieri sighs.

”So what’s going on, seriously? I’m too tired to guess.” Fair enough. So Yuuji tells her, mouthing a sorry to Megumi, who’s glaring hard at nothing. When he finishes, Ieri hums, tapping something against a notebook. 

“It's not super uncommon for curses to have this sort of effect. Megumi, you said you felt fine?” Yuuji brings the phone closer to him, and he clears his throat before answering with a simple “yeah.” Faintly, he can hear Gojo cackling. 

“I think you're just going to have to wait it out. Some allergy meds might help with the congestion, but that's about it.” Megumi hums. There's an unpleasant noise coming through the speaker for a second, then Gojo's voice is loud. 

“Poor Megumi!” He coos. Megumi scowls, scrunching his nose for a second. “I wish I got to see it! How cute!” Megumi makes a move to hang up the call, but his body gets the best of him. 

“hd’zshh-! ‘dZShhi - id’tSHhih-! hH - ” Gojo babbles something. “ h’iZSHh-iewh!” He had to duck into the collar of his sweatshirt, since those were so quick. He's frowning deeply when he resurfaces.  

“Thank you, Ieri.” He says, cutting off whatever nonsense Gojo is chattering off. “Goodbye.” He hangs up the phone in Yuuji's hand and slumps back against the couch. Yuuji sets it down and takes Megumi's hand, rubbing his thumb along soft skin and bone china-white scars. “You want to take a bath? Might help.” 

They ruled out some kind of pollen or spores when Megumi changed, but a bath should at least make him feel a little better. 

Megumi nods, then twitches into his wrist a few times. “ h’ISHh-! hiD’tzshh - id’ZSHhi-!” Yuuji gives his hand one last squeeze before he goes and starts the bath. 

It's a pretty quick affair. Megumis sensitive and tired, and something about the strands keeps sending him into itchy, rapid fits. When Yuuji puts shampoo in his hair, he gasps and lets out a rapid flurry of sneezes, and doesn't stop until he rinses it out. 

Once Megumi's dry, hair mussed, he looks like he could fall asleep standing up. Yuuji drags him to bed, since it's pretty late anyway, and Megumi watches him quietly through puffy eyelids. 

They curl up in bed a couple of minutes later. Yuuji rubs his back when another fit overtakes him, and hands him a tissue when he pulls away from his sleeve. Megumi's asleep minutes later. 

Yuuji stays awake to watch him, just to be sure. He's still stuffy, even though the bath helped a little, lips parted and breathing through his mouth. His nose is red-rimmed and abused. Every so often, it twitches, like he's itchy even in his sleep. 

Yuuji follows him to sleep, and neither of them wakes up until noon. Megumi's fine, if a bit sniffly, and Gojo texted at around 9 this morning, reading ‘Good morning ( ^-^)ノ☆ !! Guess who took you two off the roster for today?? Rest up (*≧∇≦)ﾉ’, so Yuuji texts back a ‘thank u (^○^)’ through bleary eyes. 

Gojo responds quickly with a ‘Megumi OK??’, so Yuuji snaps a sneaky picture of him. He's blinking away sleep, sporting a terrible redhead. Gojo hears it and starts typing, but he puts his phone down and watches Megumi instead. 

“You hungry?” He asks after a while, once Megumi’s awake enough to listen. He nods, bumping Yuuji's chest with the top of his head. He's always quiet for a while after he wakes up. 

He kisses Megumi softly, and his lips are a little chapped. They twitch upwards against Yuuji's own. They're always okay together. 

[comicbookgirl2]

For all the praises people give jjk about being ‘revolutionary’ or ‘subversive’ jjk to me is more about putting a new face to status quo rather than breaking or challenging the status quo of the genre or of the story itself.

Because that’s what JJK did.

Also Part of me thinks that JJK doesn’t understand sexism in a deep or meaningful way that has a ripple effect and affects everyone as WHOLE. Sexism comes in many different shapes and forms but I don’t think the story fathomed or even understood that despite it not having any women in modern times as leaders or masters where they were placed in superiority over men.

It was always the women answering to men. And not vice versa.

Why is it that the story preaches about the need to avoid outright violence when handling societal issues but when it comes to sexism- apparently all it needed was in order for it to be fixed was Maki just offing the Zenin?

Why didn’t we see sexism effecting other women? For all that talk about scars- nearly all the female sorcerers we see are beautiful. The one who does have a scar is so weak and buried by the story that one wonders if she’s looked down on because of that and rather than because she has a scar/the sexist double standards.

Why was sexism solved through basic violence and not say-

the women being actually skilled fighters/given bigger roles for the story. Not the women being given important political or societal positions to give them voices in spheres they’d been previously ignored.

You know all revolutionary things that actually would’ve been more meaningful in the long run to elevate more of its female cast from a literary point of view

But no It’s just lol nah- the story gives it the most edgelord solution to sexism I’ve ever seen.

Also the entire talk about double standards that female sorcerers face and sexism being bad means nothing when this story doesn’t challenge but instead ends up following the ‘poorly written female love interest’ ‘delegating women as support/healer roles’ because no-

The story saying sexism is bad ultimately means NOTHING when a good chunk of the weakest characters in a group is usually female. Usually in how she’s explored, the powers she has or worst case scenario for women like Miwa, Utahime, Shoko, Momo- BOTH.

Like has anyone ever noticed how whenever this story wants to motivate a guy in a sympathetic way or do something that wouldn’t make the guy look too too bad it uses a woman in distress?

Geto turns evil because Riko died, his adopted daughters were getting tormented and Yuki’s words helped motivate/inspire him without him just coming to the random conclusion himself.

Maki getting hurt motivates Yuta to beat Geto.

Nobara gets fridged to break Yuji.

Mechamaru betrays everyone to protect Miwa-

Toji falls further into evil because even though he’d been temporarily redeemed his wife’s death broke him.

Kusakabe forms a relationship with Yaga because Yaga was able to help his sister

Megumi’s whole motivation is his sister who’s in a coma

Kamo wants to make his clan better because his mom suffered as a mistress.

Yuki’s death helps to push Choso to live as a human and not a curse

Wanna show Kenjaku being op? Have him kill the strongest woman in the show.

Like you see the pattern here?

And yet we never see it vice versa.

All the people who played a hand in taking down Sukuna were all ‘chosen ones’ who were born strong because fate willed it to be so.

For a man that lived in a sexist society the fact that we never see Gojo uplifting any of the females as the future always meant that this story wasn’t serious about its female cast. The fact that the two decent women (Utahime/Shoko) we see on the good guys side are delegated your standard female healers/support roles honestly meant that this story wasn’t serious in using its female cast to break its own status quo.

Because jjk doesn’t break status quo

It just learns to live with it under a new name/management.

I think the think that kind of will always piss me off about JJK and it's female characters is that it's a story that essentially proved its sexist characters right.

Like Naoya being someone who believes that women should always be like two steps behind a man and painting that as evil doesn't work when you AS THE AUTHOR essentially keep your female characters two steps behind their male counterparts.

I fully believe that if NO ONE online brought up how Nobara could return and be helpful against Sukuna because of her ability, she wouldn't have come back.

I can guarantee you that if characters like Momo, Miwa, or even Mai were men, their powers would've been way more developed cause you're telling me you have a character who basically has wind manipulation and the BEST you can think to do with them is have their strongest attack be a stern breeze and then regulate them to a recon character?

Even really power female characters like Hana and Yuki suffer from "being women in JJK" itis. Hana is CONVENIENTLY so obsessed with Megumi that she can't finish off Sukuna. Meanwhile, Geto is somehow so powerful that he can tank a black hole??

A BLACK HOLE???

Don't pmo.

And don't get me wrong,

I love when a character kneecaps their own potential because of their personality (Okuyasu from JJBA is an example) but with JJK, it's conveniently most of the female cast that this happens to and the only ones that do either get screwed over by plot armor or is the character who is essentially the inverse of Nanami so her reaching her potential is positioned next to her greed.

[selfobsessive]

a bold thing for her to ask of you, but that's caroline. you shake your head, your smile growing in that bizarrely natural way she alone always seems to manage to influence. if she's proven anything thus far in all your attempts to make her understand the depth of your affections, it's that she can't handle it, that she isn't ready, but this current little spark in her eye looks too much like a challenge for you to back away from.

"well, that's the real tragedy, i'm afraid. that you make me weak enough to tell you all about it, even if i know you could use it against me one day. that i worry about what i'd do if you were to fall into the wrong hands ⸻ what and who i would sacrifice just to ensure your safety." and there's something meaningful to that, you think. in baring your soul to her like you can do with almost no one else, like you've never felt inspired to do for anyone else. that you don't feel as though you need to flinch away from it, after a thousand years of doing exactly that. "it isn't as simple as you're a liability, it's that i'm walking on unfamiliar ground here, love. i've had allies, and lovers, and plenty of people to follow me, but i've never craved a partner the way i do when you look me in the eye and stand your ground. when you tell me precisely what i don't want to hear. you make me want to trust you, caroline, and i can't begin to explain what that means from an arrogant, paranoid creature like me."

and she certainly pays you back for the risk of exposing your heart. you were even hungrier for her rare admission (i missed you too) than either of you realized, and you'll be tucking it deep into your chest and holding it there for some time. longer than she knows.

"it doesn't matter what they think. but trust me, they'll come around eventually ⸻ rebekah's just jealous of prettier women, much less those who steal her spotlight, and elijah has a variety of his own issues. you can ask me all about them, i don't mind going into detail." but how can you continue to torment your brother even from afar when caroline oh so casually breaks this news? all at once you feel your smile transform, the heat of your gaze intensify as you connect the details. she broke up with him. it's over.

gently holding her hand in place against your chest, you take another step closer, fully invading her space now. you're close enough for the vivid blue of her eyes to strike you all over again, but you hold your ground, your voice coming back out in a low murmur. "you should have. or at least should have told me, if not come to visit yourself ⸻ i'd have dropped everything to get back to mystic falls to see you."

You knew that it was selfish to ask him to elaborate further but you can't help yourself. You were starving for the answers that you had never been brave enough to ask for before. It would have been disrespectful to Tyler to cherish each compliment that he gave you, to allow him to dissect you to your core and relish the feeling that finally someone truly knew you. But now you're alone, unattached, and ravenous to know where his intentions truly lie.

"No, no. Please torture me. Tell me just how weak I make you." It was as much a test as it was genuine curiosity. Could he be honest with you, be truly vulnerable? You regret issuing the challenge almost as soon as you make it. Not only are you asking too much (always asking too much) but now you're in dangerous waters. If you expect him to get vulnerable, who's to say he won't expect the same? And what are you going to say then?

That flicker in his eyes makes you beam even brighter with pride. Finally, he was going to be able to change the narrative. Instead of the word father being whispered like a dirty curse word, a stain on the Mikaelson family tree, he had a chance to turn it into something beautiful. This was his opportunity to change their stars.

And Hayley Marshall had been the one to give it to him.

The pride on your face is in part to yourself, for not breaking that radiant smile even when you learned that he was going to father a child with someone that wasn't you. You would never been able to give him a child, you'd never be able to give anyone a child. Nineteen and barren, the new 16 and Pregnant.

His hand moves but not with force. It's gentle, intentional. You don’t breathe. Not really. The thanks that follows strips down your defenses and you crumble because this is the part that breaks you. Not the charm, not the power that he holds, but this. The raw, rare, honest moments that he shows only to you. He doesn't want to fight, he just wants you to see him.

Every cell in your body screams at you to run. You're in too deep now. This was a point of no return. "I missed you too," you admit, ignoring reason and instinct. You had hated Mystic Falls without him. He had hated New Orleans without you. You hated the way you tried so hard to pretend he hadn’t changed you, and how much harder it was every day to believe that lie.

That smile could unmake you. A light laugh leaves your lips, and you shake your head. "They might have been happy to have me to take you off their hands for a while, but I'm fairly certain they don't like me very much," she answered. That didn't matter to her much. Not right now. She had centuries to win over Rebekah and Elijah, if that's where this led. "You know, I almost took you up on that offer to come see you after I broke up with Tyler. But I figured you wouldn't have appreciated such a liability showing up unannounced."