#where their parents’ couldn’t or wouldn’t

[coldfanbou]

Least Restrictive Environment

So, this isn't what I wanted to put out. I got sick in the middle of the week, and looking at a screen has been difficult. I just happened to have this nearly finished, so I added a little bit more to it. It's part 2 of the Sana and Momo Kinkcember fic. That being said, it's pretty much just an update on what happened after P1 and smut, so it might be better to call it an epilogue. I'm starting to ramble anyway. I hope you enjoy it.

Length 2.1K

Sana X Momo X M reader

Once your relationship with your foster sisters had come to light, life became awkward in your home. The three of you would have constant sex when your parents were out; it didn’t matter where in the house it would happen; in the kitchen, bathroom, living room, everywhere was fair game. Your foster parents had had enough after a time. The smell bothered them more than anything. Considering there was no blood relation between any of you, they were okay with you being together; they just wanted you all to move out.

Together, the three of you were able to afford a decent place, renting a nice-sized apartment that quickly became your home. With the constant urge to play with each other, it was only a matter of time before Sana and Momo got pregnant. They were as happy as could be when they found out, and they wouldn’t allow their pregnancy to stop their daily activities. 

While Sana went out to get some shopping done, you were with Momo, your hands digging into her shoulders as you massaged them. Momo groaned as your hands unknotted the tension, feeling your breath against her back move her to push for more. You hadn’t had sex yet, having agreed to wait for Sana to come back. Momo figured she might be able to convince you. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at you, “I need you to get a spot, but let me take this off.” She said, making you pause. Momo lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it on the bed. The shirt was Momo’s only clothes, leaving her naked; considering how far along she was, she didn’t wear her bras anymore, and with the constant sex you all had, she had given up on panties long ago. Momo smirked as you asked her where she wanted you to focus. She reached back and grabbed your hands, “Right here,” Momo said, placing your hands on her engorged tits. You move closer to Momo, looking over her shoulder. Her breasts were weightier; her nipples had turned a darker color as well. The sight of her bare breasts turned you on, and Momo could feel your hardening cock against her ass.

“Oh, it feels like you need to get some tension out, too,” Momo said with a smirk. She has you squeeze her tits once before turning around. “Lay down for me, baby, and take those clothes off. Mommy is going to make you feel good.” You had to admit Momo taking charge aroused you more than anything, so you did as you were told. Once your clothes were off, Momo patted her lap, “Lay down here.” You rested against Momo, letting her adjust your position at will. In the end, she had her hand wrapped around your cock as she offered you one of her tits. You couldn’t resist; the large mounds were hypnotizing. You leaned in, running your tongue along her areola before taking it into your mouth. Momo’s hand began to move along your length slowly. You were growing harder, and Momo noticed, smiling as your precum began to cover her hand. “Oh, you’re so hard already. Does Mommy’s hand feel that good?” You nod, continuing to suck on her tit. “Are you going to cum soon?” She asked, speeding up slightly. In her pregnancy Momo had little patience, often wanting to drain you of all your cum as quickly as she could.

“Cum for Mommy,” Momo whispered into your ear with a smirk, her grip becoming oh so slightly stronger. You groan as she moves her hand along your shaft, her delicate fingers massaging the head as she moves to the tip. You can barely focus on her tits, Momo’s hand never stopped moving. Your groans only get louder, even as you suck on her tits. Momo’s breathy moans grow longer as she pumps your cock, feeling it begin to throb in her hand. “You can cum whenever you like. Mommy knows you have a lot more for her.” Momo cranes her neck, reveling in the pleasure as you flick her sensitive nipple with your tongue. “Mmm, keep going, baby; maybe you’ll get some milk.” Momo moans. You reach up and gently squeeze her breast, drawing milk from her nipple. “Ah! Don’t steal it all.” Momo’s breathing gets heavier as her milk fills your mouth. You feel her hand on the back of your head, keeping you against her chest as the hand on your cock begins to speed up.

You were getting close to cumming, and wanting to last a little longer, you tense your body. As you do, though, you accidentally bite down on Momo’s nipple. She yelps and squeezes down on the tip of your cock, making you cum. Your semen sprays onto her hand, coating it in the sticky substance. You quickly release your bite and pull away, apologizing as Momo continues to stroke your cock. “You can’t be so rough,” Momo says softly, bringing her hand to her lips. She drags her tongue along her hand, happily swallowing your cum.

She lays back on the bed, spreading her legs for you, her bulging belly more noticeable now as you take in her body. Momo notices your stares and places her hand on her belly. “This is yours, I’m yours.” She says with a smile. Momo moves her right hand down to her wet lips, spreading them apart slowly.  You gulp, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at Momo’s body. Grabbing your cock, you inch closer to Momo, your foster sister, your lover, the mother to your soon-to-be child. You rub yourself against her entrance, both of you cooing from the jolt of pleasure. 

Just as you’re about to push inside, the bedroom door opens. “Yah! You said you would wait!” You turn around and see Sana, her cheeks puffed out. “Don’t move! I get to go first!” The flustered woman rushes to take off her dress, slipping the straps off her shoulder and pulling it over her belly until it falls onto the floor. Sana waddles over to the bed, climbing onto it and putting herself beside Momo. The younger woman pouts, her brows furrowed as she looks at the shameless older sister. “You said you wouldn’t start without me.”

“It’s not my fault. He was giving me a massage, and I thought he needed some relief, too.” Momo retorted, a smirk on her face, and a feeling of smugness came over her. She turns to you, “You wanted me to help you, right?” Momo was trying to pin all this on you. You can’t help but appreciate the ridiculousness of her claim, especially when you both knew Sana would side with whatever you said.

Sana turns to you, expecting to hear an honest answer. “Momo seduced me. She started moaning when I was massaging her shoulders.” You tell the younger woman. Momo sticks her tongue out at Sana, who returns it with an angry pout. 

“You guys didn’t wait, so it’s only fair that I get to go first.” Sana says before reaching out for you, “Come on, let’s go,” Sana says, playfully kicking her feet. You move over to her and rub your cock against her slit for a brief moment before pushing into her cunt, her plump lips spreading as you push inside of her. Sana shuts her eyes and moans softly as you fill her; even though sex was a daily tradition at this point, she missed having your cock inside her. She runs her hands down your arms and intertwines her hand with yours, smiling at you as you begin to thrust into her. Momo pouts and gently turns onto her side, reaching over and squeezing one of Sana’s engorged breasts, letting some milk leak from her nipple. 

“Mm, you’re both so mean for leaving me out.” Momo whines, unbothered by the situation, just wanting to remind you both she is still there. The older woman turns Sana’s head and kisses her, continuing to squeeze her foster sister’s tits and adding to the pleasure she was feeling. Sana’s whines were muffled because of the kiss. Momo had teased Sana’s tongue, coaxing the younger woman to poke it out before she began sucking on it. Sana could only moan as you thrust into her cunt; she was being pushed to the edge as you both played with her body. You added to the pleasure, sneaking one of your hands away from Sana’s and using it to brush at her clit. 

“N-no, I don’t want to cum yet,” Sana mumbled with a grimace as she felt the waves of pleasure coming over her faster and faster. Her walls began to tighten around your cock, and her body tensed before she exploded, her cream covering your cock as she came. Sana cried out as you kept thrusting, pushing yourself to the edge.

“Sana, I’m cumming, “ you grunted.

Sana quickly pulled you in, holding you tightly against her chest. “Inside! Cum inside me!” Sana shouts, wrapping her legs around you in an attempt to keep you inside. It made you smile to see her so desperate for it, you were always planning on giving Sana a creampie, and this just made you want to do it more. You bury yourself inside Sana, pumping her full of your semen. Sana breath hitches as she feels your hot cum flow inside her. She smiles, and her body relaxes around you. Momo smiles and pinches the tired woman’s nipple before stealing a kiss from her. 

“Did it feel good?” It was a rhetorical question, but Sana answered anyway.

“As good as always.”

Momo wrinkles her nose before laying back and beckoning you to her. “Now it’s my turn.” The elder sister spread her lips much like before. You rub your cum-covered cock against her entrance, making her giggle. “You’re going to leave me all dirty.”

You lean over the pregnant woman, “You’re always dirty when we’re done.” You whisper into her ear. Momo laughs as you slide your dirty cock inside her, moaning as your thrusts begin. You watch as her tits bounce along with your thrusts. They had only grown bigger since she had gotten pregnant. The same could be said for Sana, but Momo’s breasts often stole the limelight. You held onto Momo’s waist as you thrust, moaning as her tight walls clung to you. 

Despite being tired, Sana still had enough energy to return the favor Momo had given her. She turned on her side and latched onto one of Momo’s breasts, suckling on it as fucked the older woman. “Ah, wait! That’s-” Momo bit her lip, her hums filling the room. You leaned down and latched onto her other breast. Together, you and Sana drank from Momo’s breasts, drinking her sweet milk. “That’s too much.” Momo groaned. Sana smiled, knowing that Momo was already on the verge of cumming because of her whines. She pulled away from her sister’s tit and kissed her, giving Momo a taste of her own milk.  While Sana was doing that, you made sure Momo’s breasts were being pleasured, pulling and pinching the engorged nub. Momo began to writhe, the pleasure overwhelming her.  

“Are you going to cum already?” You ask her, continuing to thrust into her wet cunt. 

Momo nods, weakly saying, “I’m gonna cum. Mommy’s going to cum.”

“Oh, you’re calling yourself mommy? I should do that, too!” Sana adds, smiling as she sees the grimace on Momo’s face. The older woman had prided herself on lasting a long time in bed, but since her pregnancy, she’s been cumming just as quickly as the rest of you. You grabbed Momo’s arms, crossing them under her breasts and holding onto them as you sped up your thrusts. Her tits bounced wildly as you rammed your cock inside her, Momo bit her lip as she tried to hold herself together, but it was futile. 

She cried out as she came, and you followed soon after, your cum pouring into Momo’s cunt. You pull out of Momo and lay on one side of her while Sana lies on the other, using her tiny fingers to pull on Momo’s hard nipple before moving her hand down to Momo’s belly. The older woman does the same, touching Sana’s stomach. “Don’t you think it’s great how big our family is going to get soon?” The cheer in her voice was enough to drag Momo into the conversation despite how tired she was. 

“It’ll be so big. Our little brother is going to keep putting his babies into us. Isn’t that right? Daddy?” Momo says, her voice going into a low, sultry tone as she refers to you as Daddy. 

“Of course, how could I not? Especially when we do it every day.” You say a bit of sarcasm in your voice at the end. Sana laughs, and Momo smiles at you, knowing that for all three of you, it was hard to resist the temptation.

[kyseya]

Yan! Mindreader x reader

Imagine how annoying it would be if your obsessed stalker had the ability to read your mind.

He was a part of your life before you even knew of his existence. Every day, he would follow you around and listen to your thoughts; the good, the bad, the angry and the sad ones.

He wished to know all there is to know about you and what better way was there than to intrude on your most inner, private feelings?

Yan! Mindreader always thought his power was a curse he’d gotten the misfortune of being born with. All day and night he’d been forced to hear everything peaople were thinking. That’s how he got to know his parents hated living together and his friends only saw him as a piggy bank. No one truly cared for him. Anyone who believe they’d want this power is wrong. All it has done is bring him misery. If he had the option to be normal he wouldn’t hesitate.

Then came you. You barged into his life without warning and set his whole body on fire- but in a good sorta way. You made him feel all tingly and light, like he could fly. You were one of a kind; nothing like the others who were selfish, vain and completely fake.

He knew. After all, he could read your mind.

Slowly he introduced himself into your life. It was subtle and natural, just like he’d prepared. He didn’t want to scare you. It was quite easy to fabricate running into each other and after it happened on plenty occasions you joked about it being fate. You saw him at the grocery store, in your apartment building-apparently he’s moved in just next door- and he even visits the same coffee shop as you do! He wanted to scream ‘yes!’, in agreement, it was indeed fated for you to be together.

It wasn’t after too many charming, well-practiced smiles and flirtatious hints that he received the greatest gift of all; you, on your back in his bed with him thrusting vigorously into your warm heat. Oh it was simply heaven. Hearing your moans whilst simultaneously listening in on your thoughts- they were far from disappointing. That was one of the only times he’s blessed his mind reading ability. Thanks to it he knows all your kinks, desires and needs, which he doesn’t hesitate to use to his advantage.

He’d be the perfect boyfriend. You will never want anyone other than him ever. Only he truly knows you and that includes parts if yourself you’ve hidden away or have never acknowledge.

Isn’t he your perfect fit?

———-

Sunlight pours into the room and wakes you up. You don’t want to. Waking up means dealing with reality and its shitty way of treating you. You resolve to just ignore the warm presence behind you and pretend to still be asleep. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.”

Damn it.

“You can’t hide it, I can tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re conscious. Although I like it when your brain imagines me naked and on top of you subconsciously, I prefer you being awake and in control of those scenarios. It makes me feel good knowing I’m wanted and I’m not sure your dirty dreams actually count.” He teased whilst placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder.

Fuck this guy. It was just your stupid brain working against you and he had the nerve to make it seem like you have any affection for him.

“You hurt me wit your words. Where were these feelings yesterday when I took you deeply agai-“

You hit him in the face with your pillow in order to shut him up. You wouldn’t let him bring up anymore of your shame. You knew it was bad but since you were stuck with this man-forever presumably- you didn’t know what else to do. There was no escaping since he would just pick up any plan you had immediately. Hell, you doubted you’d even get past having the thought ‘escape’ in your head before he goes ballistic.

Besides, you couldn’t help but to admit no one had made you feel as good as he had. It killed your soul to think it but it was true.

“Hmm, I like the thought of that. Thank you. I’ll also let you know that you feel just as good and pleasure me endlessly~”

Seriously, fuck this guy.

[kaira-diaries]

Backstabber: part two

warning: (mentions of trauma/violence)(fluff)(mentions of smut)(yearning angst)(mentions of anxiety/panic attack)

pairing: (fem!reader x In-ho)

word count: 9.7k

a/n: ok ok i know the gif is Mr. Sunshine but rn for the story we're just going to pretend it's not. Was severely hungover while writing this but alas! we got it done. This has been a long time coming & happy reading! (also, is college kicking anyone else's ass already?)

summary: after the events of the games y/n finds herself trying to get back to normalcy and move past the pain of it all, but finds herself back at square one because of a certain someone (wink wink)

read part one here <-

masterlist<-

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The city glowed in a kaleidoscope of colors, each hue of the rainbow shimmering like liquid fire against the slick pavement. Neon signs pulsed with life, their reflections stretching and warping in the puddles that pooled on the streets. The rainfall tapped rhythmically against the windshield as the rivulets of water distorted the view outside. Through the blurred glass, the vibrant lights fractured into streaks, painting the dark skyline in smudged prisms of gold, crimson, and indigo.

Your heart swelled with a deep, comforting joy as you drove through the city.

The evening had been perfect—your father was more vibrant and full of life than you’d ever seen, his laughter echoing in your mind like a melody. Your mother’s eyes sparkled with a youthful radiance, her smile brighter than it had been in years, carrying you back to the carefree days of your childhood. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

When you returned home from the games a year ago, you and Mina made a quiet, resolute decision to sever ties with the relentless chaos of city life. Together, you retreated to the countryside, finding solace in a small, sunlit apartment nestled among rolling hills and whispering trees. The reason was undeniable: the city was haunted. Every corner, every shadow seemed to echo with memories of him—his laughter, his absence, the pain he left behind. It was suffocating, an endless maze of reminders too overwhelming to bear.

So, you both sought a fresh start in a place neither of you had ever called home. The countryside offered a fragile peace, with its golden fields swaying in the breeze and its nights bathed in quiet starlight. Yet, no matter how far you ran, the games had marked you. Their weight lingered in the quiet moments, carving scars so deep you often wondered if they’d ever fade. They had changed you in ways you couldn’t fully articulate, reshaping your very soul, leaving you to navigate a new life that felt as unfamiliar as the land beneath your feet.

Yes, the city haunted you more than you cared to admit, its streets brimming with ghosts of a life you couldn’t outrun. Yet, no matter how heavy the weight of its memories, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—keep away from your parents. They had been your anchor, their concern cutting through your walls with relentless questions about In-ho. What had happened to him? Where had he gone? Were you okay? You could only muster a half-truth, your voice steady but hollow: “He’s okay. We just broke it off. It’s what’s best—so he could focus on his business.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The way their eyes lingered on you, filled with implicit understanding, told you they knew better. Yet, the quiet pain etched into your face kept them from prying further.

Now, behind the wheel, your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you approached a red light, the tension in your shoulders mounting as you flinched. A black sedan pulled up too close to your rear bumper, its sleek frame barely visible in your rain-speckled mirror. Your stomach tightened, a chill crawling up your spine, familiar yet unwelcome. You sighed, a long, unsteady exhale, the weight of recognition settling over you. You knew this feeling. You knew him.

As the light flickered green, you pressed on, refusing to look back, your foot steady on the gas. The city’s glow blurred in the corners of your vision, but you didn’t spare an ounce of energy on the creeping dread that clung to you like a shadow. Not tonight. Not now. You moved forward, letting the rhythm of the rain and the hum of the engine carry you through the labyrinth of streets, your focus on the road ahead and nothing else.

You were nearing the edge of the city when your eyes caught sight of the gallery, its elegant facade proudly displaying your name in bold, polished letters. It should have felt like triumph, like validation, but all it brought was a fragile kind of grounding, tethering you to the moment before your thoughts spiraled. It was Mina who had believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself, who pushed you to pick up the brush again, to pour your fractured soul into something tangible. Without her, you doubted you would’ve had the strength to confront the canvas.

Growing up, you’d been told over and over that art was a pipe dream, a risky gamble that only fools and dreamers dared chase. But after coming so close to death, what was left to fear? You found the courage—or perhaps the desperation—to create again. Yet, no amount of bravery could erase the color red from your world.

Red.

The very thought of it was a visceral wound, one that tore through you without warning. It wasn’t just a color—it was a specter of guilt, a reminder of lives lost in the cruelest ways. You had seen it splattered across your skin, warm and unrelenting, as innocent eyes stared back at you, lifeless and unblinking. Red was not paint; it was blood. It was screams. It was nightmares.

Now, it was banished. Banished from your paintings, your wardrobe, your home—your entire existence. The sight of it made your stomach twist and your chest ache, the weight of memory crashing over you like a tidal wave. The gallery was proof of your survival, but the absence of red was proof of your scars, the kind that no brushstroke could ever cover.

The breeze wove through your long hair like a gentle whisper as you cracked a window. It was cool and invigorating as you left the city’s glow behind. The hum of your car faded into the rhythm of nature, and the road ahead curved through rolling hills cloaked in darkness. The earth seemed to rise and fall around you, cradling you in its quiet embrace as you drew closer to home.

Above, the night sky stretched endlessly, a masterpiece painted in shades of inky black and deep indigo. The moon hung low and luminous, its surface dappled with grey and white, casting a soft silver light over the landscape. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily across its face, their edges glowing faintly as if kissed by moonlight. Far in the distance, the horizon blurred into a dreamy collage of shadowy mountains and faintly silhouetted buildings, their shapes barely discernible against the star-strewn canvas above.

The scene was mesmerizing, a quiet symphony of beauty that filled the silence in your car and kept your thoughts company. For twenty blissful minutes, you soaked in the view, letting it anchor you in the present and wash away the weight of the day. When you finally turned into your driveway, the familiar sight of your home greeted you, nestled in the hills like a haven waiting to welcome you back.

Stepping through the front door, you let out a tired sigh, kicking off your shoes with a dull thud against the wall. The click of the lock behind you echoed in the quiet house as you shrugged off your pink jacket, the fabric still damp from the night rain. You hung it on the hook beside Mina’s oversized sweater, the two garments swaying gently together like old friends. The promise of relaxation beckoned as you made your way into the living room—until the scene before you sent a jolt through your system.

Your pulse leaped as you froze in place, a startled yelp escaping your lips. “Oh my god!” you exclaimed, spinning on your heel to shield your vision, hand slapping over your eyes. It was Mina—and her boyfriend, James—entwined on the couch, caught mid-act in a moment that no amount of bleach could ever scrub from your memory.

Mina let out a mortified shriek of her own, scrambling off James with the grace of a cat caught stealing food. She grabbed for a blanket nearby, throwing it over herself with a flushed face and wide eyes. “Jesus, Mina, my eyes!” you groaned, your voice dripping with disbelief and exasperation.

Snorting despite her embarrassment, Mina shot back, “Could’ve made yourself known, babe!”

You scoffed, still shielding your face. “Could’ve taken your boyfriend to the privacy of your damn room!” Your voice wavered between frustration and sheer mortification as you heard a muffled laugh from James.

Finally, Mina muttered something about being "decent," and you cautiously dropped your hand, still squinting in case of lingering trauma. Your gaze landed on James, who leaned back on the couch with an infuriating smirk plastered across his face.

“James,” you said flatly, your expression twisted in barely concealed disgust.

“Y/N,” he replied coolly, nodding his head like this was the most casual encounter in the world.

Five minutes later, James slipped out the door, murmuring something vague about an early workday. You didn’t bother to reply; the sound of the latch clicking shut was far more satisfying than anything you could have said. In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, staring at the stove as the kettle slowly heated. The soft hiss of water simmering filled the quiet space, and the faint aroma of ginger tea grounds you. It was exactly what you needed after… that.

Mina emerged from her room in a plush robe, her damp hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She hummed a cheerful tune, completely unbothered by the awkwardness of earlier. Spotting you at the stove, she grinned and opened the cabinet, pulling down a mug. “Ooh, make me some too,” she chimed, her voice light and casual. Without waiting for a response, she settled onto the couch, her notebook and a mess of papers spread across the cushions as she began flipping through her homework.

Despite her antics, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride as you watched her. Mina, for all her reckless decisions and impulsive streaks, had come a long way. The debts that once weighed her down like a ball and chain were gone, erased thanks to the money In-ho had given her—a bittersweet reminder of him. She’d left her destructive gambling habits in the past, choosing instead to enroll in college and focus on building something real for herself. You admired her for it, even if she still did dumb things like… well, five minutes ago.

The sharp whistle of the kettle snapped you back to the present. You turned off the burner and poured the steaming water over the ginger tea bags, the fragrant steam curling in the air as you filled both mugs. Carefully, you carried them to the coffee table, setting one in front of Mina before claiming your own.

Instead of sitting on the couch beside her, you chose the floor, folding your legs under you and leaning your back against the side of the coffee table. The image of James smirking on that couch was still too fresh, and you weren’t about to risk reactivating that trauma.

Mina glanced up from her notes, a mischievous glint in her eye as she took a sip of her tea. “Still mad?” she teased.

You shot her a glare over the rim of your mug, muttering, “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

Mina giggled softly, the sound light and teasing as she took another sip of her tea before setting the mug back down on the coffee table. “How are the old folks?” she asked, leaning back into the couch cushions, her robe bunching around her elbows.

You shrugged, your fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of your mug. “Same old. Happy, healthy.”

Her smile deepened, filling with an undeniable warmth that softened her usual playful demeanor. “We got really lucky,” she said quietly, her voice carrying an earnestness that made you pause.

You let out a noncommittal hum. “I guess,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the tea swirling in your cup.

Mina sighed, the sound heavy with meaning, and when you glanced up, her expression was serious. “I know what happened was... awful, y/n. I have scars too.” Her voice softened, the raw honesty in her tone cutting through the air like a whisper against your soul. “And I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m proud of you. Of me. Of us.”

Her gaze locked with yours, filled with genuine love and unspoken understanding. The weight of it settled over you like a blanket, and without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your hand gently over hers where it rested on the couch. “I am too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes dropped to your tea, the surface still steaming, faint ripples distorting your reflection. The image wavered, much like your thoughts, and the memories clawed their way back to the surface. What happened was terrible, you thought. The image of In-ho’s face flashed in your mind—the moment his hand slipped from your waist, the cold finality of his silence after you had laid it all bare. Your ultimatum had hung in the air like a blade, and his lack of response had been a response all its own. He had made his choice, and you had been the one left behind.

A sharp ache rose in your chest, unbearable and relentless, like a bruise being pressed too hard. Your throat tightened, and before you realized it, a tear threatened to slip down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, as if denying its presence could erase the pain too.

“Y/n,” Mina’s voice broke through, soft yet cautious, filled with empathy. Her eyes were on you, studying you like she could see the cracks forming. She didn’t push, didn’t prod—just called to you in a way only she could, grounding you before the sorrow could drown you entirely.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear the sting in your eyes, and lifted your mug again, letting its warmth anchor you. “I’m okay,” you murmured, more to yourself than her.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat as you tried to steady your voice. “My gallery looked great on the way home,” you said, steering the conversation into safer waters.

Mina’s face lit up instantly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The gallery show is going to be amazing!” she gushed, clapping her hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. Then, her expression turned sly. “We gotta talk outfits.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Mina, seriously?”

“What?” she said, feigning offense as she leaned forward dramatically, her robe slipping off one shoulder like she was auditioning for a soap opera. “This is your art, babe! Out in the world! Your name is growing—you’re practically famous now.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to grin. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“I’m serious,” she continued, pointing a finger at you like she was delivering an intervention. “I’ll be damned if I let you show up to your own gallery show looking like—like poop.”

You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your tea. “Poop? Really, Mina? That’s your big motivational speech?”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her tea with the most nonchalant expression you’d ever seen. “Hey, I’m just saying. Your art deserves a look. Something bold. Something sexy. Something that says, ‘I paint masterpieces, and I could also steal your man.’”

You doubled over, clutching your stomach as the laughter rolled out of you. “You are unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smug smile, raising her mug in a toast. “Now, I’m thinking black dress, black heels. You’ll look hot, mysterious, and rich. Total triple threat.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, letting Mina’s playful excitement wash over you. But even as you smiled, that nagging thought returned, creeping into your mind like a shadow. Your name is growing—you’re practically famous now. The words bounced around in your head, but the more you thought about them, the less certain they felt.

There was the real weight of it—the fear that gnawed at your insides, the fear of being found. In-ho. His face, his voice, the way he had slipped out of your life with no real answer, no real closure. The thought of him lurking in the background, somewhere out there, made your chest tighten with dread.

________

Your black gown gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting of the gallery, the fabric flowing gracefully as you moved through the space. The ceilings soared above you, high and vaulted, their pale elegance juxtaposed with the golden glow of the chandeliers that hung like jewels, casting shimmering reflections across the room. The air was filled with the delicate scent of fresh paint—a subtle reminder of the work that had gone into creating the very walls you now stood beside.

The entire gallery radiated warmth, both in its inviting atmosphere and the rich tones of the wood flooring beneath your feet. The walls, a gentle cream, embraced each of your breathtaking paintings, their vibrant colors popping against the soft backdrop. Each piece was lit by strategically placed lights, their glow accentuating every brushstroke, every detail, allowing your art to breathe within the spacious, airy room.

The space felt alive—alive with the pulse of your skill, the soft hum of voices and footsteps mingling with the soft music of the room. Between the intricate molding along the walls and the polished surfaces, there was an undeniable elegance in the air, as if the gallery itself was a work of art.

Every single one of your paintings was up for sale, except for one. It hung on the wall, almost like a secret tucked away among the rest, its presence more intimate than the others. You watched as your family gathered around it—Mina, James, your parents—all admiring the colors, the brushstrokes. It was your mother's favorite, so you had saved it just for her. No amount of her objections could convince you to let her pay for it. It was a gift, one she didn’t need to argue for.

A cordial smile spread across your face as you observed the happiness that radiated from your loved ones. Their laughter and excitement filled the space, and you couldn’t help but feel proud. You continued your slow walk through the gallery, taking in the joy that seemed to pulse through the room.

You couldn’t help but chuckle when you spotted your agent—an energetic whirlwind, buzzing from one person to the next, mingl..chatting up a storm, shaking hands, and making deals. She was a riot, always moving at a mile a minute, but you loved her for it. Without her, this night wouldn’t be the success it was.

But then, your pace slowed. You came upon the first painting you had made after years of silence. The piece felt almost sacred in its own way as if it held a part of you that nothing else could.

It was a portrait—of eyes. His eyes. In-ho’s eyes. The ones that had once looked at you with a depth you couldn’t forget, even if you tried. The brushstrokes were wide and purposeful, capturing the passion of those eyes in a way that felt almost too raw to bear. You had painted the eyes of a man who no longer existed, a man whose memory you had tried to preserve through this one simple piece.

You felt Mina step up beside you, her presence familiar and comforting as always. Her voice was soft, inquisitive. "I always wondered why you painted him," she said, her gaze fixed on the canvas before you.

You sighed, your chest tightening as you looked into those painted eyes. The memories rushed back, but they were no longer as painful as they once were. "I guess I wanted one last look," you began, your voice thick with emotion, "in the eyes of the man I remembered him to be."

You paused, your fingers brushing the edge of the frame as you spoke. "His warmth. His love. I preferred that fiction over the fact of who he turned out to be. A murderer."

You could feel Mina’s quiet understanding beside you. There was no judgment, no need for more words. She just stood with you, letting the weight of the moment settle between you both.

Mina had excused herself a moment later, disappearing into the restroom with a brief, apologetic smile, leaving you standing alone in front of the painting of In-ho. The eyes in the portrait seemed to follow you, a silent reminder of everything you had tried to forget. You couldn’t tear your gaze away, the quiet hum of the gallery around you blending into the background. Time seemed to stretch, the only thing real in the moment being the image before you—the man you had once known, captured forever in paint.

Just as you were lost in thought, a burst of energy tore through the air, and your agent appeared in front of you, practically bouncing with excitement. She squealed so loudly it almost startled you. "Ahh, y/n!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with elation. "I've got wonderful news!"

You had to reach out and grab her shoulders to steady her as she nearly hopped out of her skin, her enthusiasm almost too much to contain. You couldn’t help but giggle, the infectious energy pulling you from your reverie. "Okay, okay, what is it?"

She took your hands in hers, her grip tight with barely contained joy. "Your entire collection has been sold," she declared, her voice cracking with excitement.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, the words hanging in the air like a dream you weren’t sure you could believe. You had to cover your mouth with your hands as if to prevent the shock from spilling out in the form of a gasp. "What... who?"

Before she could respond, a voice—his voice—slashed through the atmosphere, smooth and unmistakable. It hit you like a cold wave, the shock of it rushing through your veins. "I never knew you had a knack for the arts."

The words settled in your chest, each syllable like a stone thrown into still water. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body tensed, as if time had frozen. There, standing at the entrance of the gallery, was In-ho—his presence as commanding as ever, his gaze nailed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. Your agent looked between the two of you, a slight frown knitting her brows. You heard her mumble just before excusing herself, surely picking up on the change in the air, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Your sanity seemed to unravel in an instant, a quiet thread snapping, leaving you exposed and trembling. The ability to breathe, something you had taken for granted, felt stolen from you in a cruel, suffocating moment. He stood there, looking just the same as he did a year ago—too the same. In his all-black attire, the sharp cut of his suit made him seem impossibly distant, yet his red-bottomed shoes gleamed like a cruel reminder of the life you once shared. The man you had loved—maybe even still loved—was here, standing in front of you like a ghost you had desperately tried to bury.

Your body betrayed you, as it always did in moments like this. As he took a few slow, deliberate steps toward you, calling your name, every inch of you screamed to flee, to run, but your legs refused to obey. You found yourself moving backward in sync with him, each step matching his, like a puppet on invisible strings. The ground beneath your feet felt unstable, as though you were walking on glass, and you could hear the sound of your own heart pounding so loudly that it threatened to drown out everything else.

Your vision blurred. Your breath became shallow, ragged, as your mind raced to make sense of what was happening, but there was no escape from the crushing reality of it. This man—this man—was the reason your chest had once felt full of warmth, and now, he was the reason it felt as though every breath was being stolen from you.

You stood frozen, paralyzed by fear, as the memories of what you once shared crashed into you like waves in a storm. Three years. Three years of your life—maybe even more—lost but still echoing in the pit of your stomach. The implicit words between you and him were suffocating, the weight of his presence like a pressure pressing in from all sides.

It was as if time itself had stopped, your body locked in place, unable to move, unable to think. But then, like a break in the tension, a sound shattered the air—a crash. You snapped back to reality as you saw Mina, her champagne glass slipping from her fingers, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor in a violent spray. The noise was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the silence between you and In-ho, the suffocating silence that lingered like a storm cloud over your head.

Mina’s face twisted with pure disgust as her eyes locked on him, her body stiffening as she processed the sight of him. The contempt in her gaze was palpable, but her focus quickly shifted to you—to you, the one who was standing there, paralyzed in the wake of his presence. Without a word, she moved toward you, her hand grabbing your arm with urgency, pulling you away from him.

James was right behind, his grip gentle yet firm on your shoulders, a soft, steadying force in the chaos. But no touch could calm the frantic pulse racing through your veins. Your body felt as though it were vibrating with panic, your chest too tight, your breath too shallow. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in like a suffocating vise. You couldn’t breathe—you couldn’t think. The overwhelming, bone-deep fear that had settled into your bones was blurring your vision, making every step feel like an eternity.

You couldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be here, not with him, not in this moment, not in this suffocating air thick with memories you had buried deep.

With a sharp, desperate pull, you wrenched yourself from Mina’s grip, the sound of her shocked gasp barely registering as you moved. Your feet were moving before your brain could catch up, the instinct to escape roaring louder than everything else. You darted for the doors, the sound of your heart in your ears drowning out the world around you.

You ran—no, you fled. Past the warm golden light of the gallery, past the hum of conversations, and straight toward the exit. You could hear your name being called—his voice—but you refused to acknowledge it. It felt like a rope pulling at you, trying to drag you back into the darkness of everything you had tried to escape.

The doors slammed open in front of you, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap, but you didn’t care. Every step was a fight against the panic that gripped you, a fight against the crushing need to keep moving, to keep running. You could feel the weight of the past pressing against your back, but you pushed forward, ignoring the thumping in your chest, ignoring the tears threatening to fall.

You had to get away.

_______

You found yourself on the nearest rooftop balcony, the city sprawled beneath you in a sea of lights and shadows. The buildings below were faint silhouettes against the dark sky, their windows flickering with life in a world you felt distantly removed from. The cool night air kissed your skin, a small comfort in the stillness that surrounded you. It had taken you nearly an hour to find some semblance of calm, your pulse finally beginning to slow after the frantic rush of fear.

Now, you sat on the edge of the rooftop, your legs dangling carelessly over the side, feet swaying slightly as they hovered inches above the air. The vastness of the city before you seemed to stretch endlessly, the lights below like stars scattered across a canvas too large to take in all at once. Your palms rested in your lap, fingers tense but unmoving, as if your body no longer belonged to you.

You knew you should be heading back to Mina, that you couldn’t stay here, isolated, like some lost fragment of yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to move. It was as though your body had forgotten how to function, paralyzed in the space between where you had been and where you needed to go. You couldn’t feel a thing—no warmth, no cold, just an emptiness that echoed in the hollow of your chest.

The world around you seemed muted, distant. Even the sound of the wind brushing through the city, the hum of life below, felt too far away. Then, faintly, you heard the rooftop door creak open behind you. A soft click as it shut, followed by the steady rhythm of footsteps that grew closer with each passing second.

You didn’t need to turn, didn’t need to acknowledge it. You knew it was him—the presence that had once filled your life with warmth, now a shadow that haunted your every step.

Still, you remained frozen. Your gaze stayed fixed on the city ahead of you, watching the endless rows of lights flicker in the distance. You couldn’t look back. You couldn’t face him again.

You let out a long, heavy sigh, the sound barely audible over the hum of the city below. Your gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, the neon lights of a billboard flickering against the night sky, as if they too were too distracted to focus. You didn’t want to look at him. You didn’t want to acknowledge the weight of his presence that seemed to press in from behind, suffocating the already thick air.

“Why are you here?” Your voice was cold, detached, as if you were asking a question you already knew the answer to, but still needed to hear.

He didn’t respond immediately, and you could feel him take a slow step forward. You refused to glance in his direction, but the quiet shift in the air told you everything you needed to know. He was close now, too close. The scrape of his shoes against the concrete was barely audible, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned against the rooftop’s edge beside you, his body close enough that you could feel his warmth, yet you remained perfectly still, frozen in your resolve.

“I want… I want to try again,” he said, his voice low and tentative, like a fragile promise hovering in the air between you. There was an edge of vulnerability to it, something that clawed at the pieces of you still willing to believe.

You snorted without thinking, the sound bitter and dismissive. Your eyes flicked to the billboard in the distance, the bright lights blinking at you like an illusion—a distraction from the truth. “Leave,” you said, your tone sharp and unwavering. You turned your head slightly, but kept your gaze fixed on the far-off ad, your jaw tight. “You’re wasting your time.”

The words felt like a weight lifted from your chest, but the moment they left your mouth, they felt hollow, the empty space they created echoing back at you. You didn’t want to hear the words, didn’t want to see the man who had once been everything to you standing there, asking for something you could never give him again.

“You never told me about your painting.” His voice was soft, almost too gentle, as if testing the waters, waiting for a crack in your armor.

You swallowed hard, the words like gravel in your throat. "There's a lot of things you don’t know about me anymore," you shot back, your voice colder than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. The words hung between you, each syllable another stone thrown into the chasm that had opened between you. A sudden breeze tugged at your hair, lifting it from your face like a tender reminder of everything you had. But now? Now, it felt like the wind was pushing you away from him.

He stood up, his movements slow, deliberate, and yet, there was a sense of urgency in the way he stepped closer to you. “I doubt that very much, y/n.” His voice was thick with something you couldn’t place—hope? Regret? Whatever it was, it grated against your already raw nerves.

Without thinking, you jumped down from the ledge you’d been sitting on. The movement was sharp and instinctive as if putting distance between you both could somehow silence the noise in your head. Your feet hit the ground with a soft thud, but it felt like the sound reverberated through your chest, shaking your bones. You lifted your hand, instinctively warding him off, your fingers trembling with a mix of anger and something far more painful. “No.” The word came out sharper than you meant, but it was all you could muster as you finally met his gaze. His eyes were weary, so weary, but there was warmth there, too—an impossible warmth that threatened to break you.

“Just… no.” You repeated, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, your chest tight. You took another step back, the distance between you growing but feeling like an ocean. “You made your decision. And in a way, I’m glad you did.”

His confusion was palpable, his head angling as if trying to decipher the pieces of you that were slipping through his fingers. You could see it in his eyes—the search for the woman he once knew, the woman who had loved him unconditionally. But she was gone.

"You have no idea what I had to go through to get to where I am.” The words fell out of you, raw and unfiltered, like a confession that had been buried beneath layers of pain, regret, and shattered trust. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to—he needed to hear it.

“I have yearned for you.” Your voice wavered for just a moment before you steadied yourself as if bracing for the impact. “Your touch, your smell, the way you used to make me feel alive… But I’ve realized again and again that my In-ho—the one I loved—is gone. And what’s left? What’s left is a killer.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and you saw the flicker of pain pass through his features—an undeniable flash of regret, or maybe guilt, but it was fleeting. It wasn’t enough. Nothing could ever be enough to undo what had been done, to heal the wounds that had been carved into your soul.

You stood there, breath shallow, heart aching, staring at him as the distance between you felt vast, impossible to close. You weren’t the same person anymore, and neither was he.

A tear shimmered in his eye, threatening to fall, but it never did. His lip trembled, just slightly, betraying the carefully constructed composure he tried so hard to maintain. He nodded, his expression breaking with something raw, something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen in so long. It was the first crack in the wall he had built between you—the wall that had torn you both apart.

He took a step back as if distancing himself from the emotion that was rising between you like a tidal wave. Slowly, painfully, he turned away from you and started walking toward the rooftop door, each step heavy, weighted with finality. The space between you and him grew wider, and your chest tightened in protest, but you couldn’t move. You could barely breathe.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, and for a brief moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, with one last, reluctant motion, he grabbed it, his fingers curling around the cool metal. He hesitated, turning his head back toward you just before he stepped into the hallway.

The words he spoke were like a slow, fragile exhale—barely audible but cutting through you with the sharpness of a thousand knives. "For what it's worth, y/n," he said, his voice thick with emotion, the sound of it scraping against your heart. "I shut the games down."

Your chin jerked in his direction, your eyes widening in disbelief, a rush of shock and confusion sweeping over you. His eyes were glassy, distant, but there was something else in them, too—shame, maybe sorrow. And, beneath it all, a tenderness that still managed to break through.

"For you," he added, his voice faltering as if the words had cost him more than he could bear to admit.

You felt a tremor run through you as if the very ground beneath you had shifted. He had done it. Shut the industry down—for you, carrying out the ultimatum you had given. The realization hit you like a wave, crashing over every part of you that had ever loved him, ever believed in him.

In a flash, he was gone.

_______

You weren’t sure how you’d managed to end up in your bed, but fragments of the journey flickered in your memory—the way your legs had trembled beneath you, your hand gripping your stomach as nausea clawed its way through you. You could vaguely recall stumbling back to the gallery, the worried looks on Mina’s face blurring into the hum of voices, the soft touch of her hand guiding you. Now, you lay on your back in the quiet darkness of your room, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and casting pale streaks across the ceiling.

Mina was beside you, her breaths slow and steady, her form curled beneath the blanket like a protective cocoon. The soft rhythm of her breathing should have been comforting, but your mind refused to settle. You couldn’t stop replaying his parting words, couldn’t stop turning them over and over in your head. “I shut the games down. For you.”

The weight of those words pressed against your chest, a maddening mixture of disbelief, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Why had he waited until now to tell you? Why had he carried that secret in silence all this time, letting you believe he was still the man who had abandoned you for something darker, something cruel?

A bitter scoff escaped your lips as you rolled onto your side, the mattress shifting slightly beneath you. Your hand curled into the pillow, your knuckles brushing against the cool fabric as you begged for sleep to come, to pull you into its merciful void. But your mind betrayed you, spinning endlessly, racing through memories and questions you didn’t want to face.

You cursed yourself for it—for allowing him to take up space in your thoughts, for spending even one more second on this when you should have let it go. But the harder you tried to push the thoughts away, the tighter they clung to you, like vines wrapping around your chest.

Your heart ached with the weight of all you had endured, the heartbreak layered upon heartbreak, carved into you by the games. The memories were jagged and raw, cutting into your mind no matter how much time passed. Yet, as painful as it all was, there was a flicker of something else—something that almost felt like peace.

The games were over. They were done. Nobody else would have to endure that nightmare, to face the horrors you had barely survived. And that knowledge, however faint, eased something deep within you, even if just for a moment. But still… he had betrayed you.

Your chest tightened again as you stared at the darkened wall, his face flashing in your mind, his eyes weary and regretful. And then the thought came, unbidden and unwanted—what if you allowed him to explain? What if you let him tell you everything, from the beginning?

The thought lingered, curling around you like a question you weren’t ready to answer. It was a dangerous thing, entertaining the idea of understanding, of finding closure. Yet, in its own way, it brought a strange kind of calm.

And it was that thought—fragile, confusing, and bittersweet—that finally lulled you into sleep, your breaths softening, your body relaxing as the tension melted away into the night.

_________________

It had been a long day—the longest. You sat stiffly in your office at the gallery, the faint hum of distant voices and footsteps barely reaching your ears. The weight of the day pressed down on you, heavier than the leather chair you were perched in. Your desk, usually a comforting space filled with the chaos of sketches and notes, felt foreign now, as though the air itself had shifted.

Your agent had called earlier, her voice brimming with urgency as she reminded you to sign over the paperwork for your collection to the buyer. You had chuckled at the simplicity of it, the practicality. Of course, it needed to be done. But beneath the surface of that mundane task, a strange sensation crept in—a quiet calmness, one you hadn’t felt in so long. This might be it. This might be your chance to finally get the closure you had been chasing in the recesses of your mind. Maybe, just maybe, you could finally get your explanation.

Your hands trembled slightly as you ran a cold, shaky hand through your curled hair, trying to smooth the strands that seemed to rebel against the order you so desperately sought. The thought of seeing him again, here, in this space, set your nerves alight.

And then, as if conjured by your thoughts, there he was.

In-ho knocked gently on the open door, his presence filling the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. He was composed, his suit perfectly pressed, but there was something different about him now—something weary in the way he carried himself, something almost fragile. You didn’t trust it, but you also couldn’t ignore it.

You gestured silently for him to sit, your throat too tight to speak just yet. He stepped inside, his movements measured, the soft sound of his shoes against the floor somehow louder than your own heartbeat. As he sank into the chair across from you, you stood, the paperwork clutched tightly in your hand. You circled around the desk, placing yourself directly in front of him, leaning back against the edge as if the furniture might anchor you.

The distance between you felt suffocating yet electric, and suddenly, you were aware of every small movement you made. You shifted, crossing your arms over your chest, a defensive barrier against the storm that was brewing inside you.

You couldn’t meet his eyes at first, not when the memory of everything you had said to him hung heavy between you. The words you’d hurled at him, sharp and unyielding, still lingered in the air, echoes of the heartbreak you hadn’t fully processed. And yet, even now, there was a part of you—a cursed, stubborn part of you—that begged you to apologize, to soften the sharp edges you’d used to shield yourself.

But you wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t apologize, not even as the tension between you thickened, not even as your heart screamed at you to do so. He didn’t deserve your apology, not after everything he had done.

The silence stretched on, heavy and taut, as you held the paperwork in your hands, your fingers clutching the edges tightly.

Your eyes flicked to him as he sat, legs crossed with an air of practiced ease, his confident demeanor filling the room like he owned every inch of it. Even now, after everything, In-ho carried himself with the kind of composure that could command a crowd—or, in this case, silence. His posture was effortless, but his presence was anything but. Every movement, every breath he took seemed calculated, deliberate, as if even his stillness was designed to draw attention.

You cleared your throat, breaking the thick, unspoken tension that lingered between you like a cloud. “From the beginning,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the quiet. It wasn’t a request—it was a demand.

His gaze flicked to yours, sharp yet unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might push back, deflect, or stall. But instead, he gave a slight, measured nod as if he’d been expecting this all along. He gestured toward the door with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes locking on yours.

“Shut the door,” he said simply, his voice low and calm yet carrying the weight of something far deeper.

You hesitated for just a beat, long enough for your heart to stutter in your chest. Then, wordlessly, you turned and walked to the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet room. The faint click of the latch as you shut it behind you felt like the closing of a chapter—or perhaps the opening of one you weren’t sure you wanted to read.

With the door closed, the room seemed smaller, the air thicker. You made your way back to your spot against the desk, leaning into it with an unspoken attempt to steady yourself. The papers in your hand brushed against the wood, but your focus was on him now—on the way he sat, still composed, as if he had all the time in the world.

And yet, you noticed the slight shift in his shoulders, the faint tension in the way his hands rested on his knee. He wasn’t as calm as he wanted you to believe.

You crossed your arms again, this time more for yourself than anything else, and tilted your head slightly, waiting. A strange mixture of anticipation and dread coiled in your stomach as your gaze bore into him, silently urging him to begin.

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before leaning forward just slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs. The movement was subtle, but it felt like a shift in the balance of the room, as though he was finally ready to open a door he had kept locked for far too long.

"I had played the games. Once before when I was younger." You straightened at that, fidgeting, as he watched you before continuing.

“My wife... she was sick,” he began, his voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions he was trying to hold back. “She was expecting our child, and I was desperate—so desperate. I didn’t see any other way, so I entered.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as though the weight of the memory was too much to bear.

“My thought process was simple,” he continued, his tone quieter now, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “I’d either save the life of the woman I loved and our baby… or die trying. There wasn’t an in-between for me. But when I made it out, when I finally had the money in my hands…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “It was too late.”

Your gaze softened, despite yourself, the sharp edges of your anger dulling for just a moment as your arms slowly uncrossed.

Your throat dried, and your hands shook.

"And then I found you," he looked up, locking eyes with you.

“You were everything—fierce, unshakable, and so utterly beautiful that it hurt to look at you sometimes. The day you left, it was like the air was stolen from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—like the world had come to a standstill, and I was left frozen in the neverending emptiness you left behind.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a weight that made your breath hitch. The intensity in his gaze wasn’t sharp—it was soft, regretful, and filled with something you hadn’t seen from him in a while: vulnerability.

“I ended the games the day you left,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with emotion, as though each word carried the burden of his actions.

You froze, the weight of his confession hitting you like a punch to the chest. Your teeth pressed into your cheek as you bit down, trying to steady yourself, trying not to let the shock show. But the tightness in your chest betrayed you, your hands fidgeting at your sides.

“I didn’t tell you,” he continued, his tone lower now, quieter, “because you needed to move on. You needed to heal from… from what I let happen. From what I allowed to become your nightmare.”

His voice cracked, just slightly, and he looked away for a fleeting moment, as if even he couldn’t bear the shame. When his eyes returned to yours, they glistened under the soft light, raw and open in a way that felt almost unbearable.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling under the weight of the words. “For all of it. For the despair I caused you. For the part I played in your agony. For… for breaking the one thing I swore I’d protect.”

You felt your chest tighten, the lump in your throat rising as his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. There was no deflecting the rawness of his confession, no mistaking the sincerity that poured from him like a dam finally breaking.

He didn’t try to justify himself further, didn’t try to fill the silence that followed. He just sat there, his gaze searching yours, silently asking for something you weren’t sure you could give—forgiveness, understanding, maybe even absolution.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady the storm of emotions swirling within you. For a moment, you stayed there, leaning against the desk, your fingers gripping the edge as if letting go might send you tumbling. But then, slowly, you pushed yourself away, your movements deliberate, each step toward him feeling like a quiet surrender to the moment.

He watched you approach, his gaze flickering with surprise and a cautious hope, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were closing the distance between you.

When you stopped in front of him, your heart pounded in your chest, but your hand was steady as you extended it toward him. The air between you felt charged, heavy with everything that had been said—and everything that hadn’t.

“Come on,” you said softly, your voice gentler now, the tension beginning to unravel at the edges. A small, almost tentative smile tugged at your lips, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was for him or for yourself. “Let’s get dinner.”

For a beat, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours as though trying to understand this small gesture of truce. Then, finally, his lips quirked into the faintest semblance of a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was enough to make something in your chest loosen.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm and grounding, his fingers wrapping around yours with a quiet reverence. As you helped him to his feet, the weight of everything between you seemed to shift—not gone, but lighter somehow.

________

Dinner had passed quicker than you anticipated, the hours slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers. Now, the two of you walked side by side down the dimly lit sidewalk, the city alive with a quiet hum. Neon lights shimmered above, their reflections dancing faintly on the wet pavement from a drizzle earlier in the evening. In the distance, the soft melody of a street performer’s guitar drifted through the air, mingling with the occasional chatter of passersby.

You bundled yourself tighter in your jacket, the chill nipping at your cheeks and nose, while In-ho walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. His pace was slow, measured, matching yours as if he were careful not to overstep. The sound of your heels clicking against the concrete filled the silence between you, rhythmic and grounding, giving you something to focus on as your thoughts churned.

A question had been simmering in your mind all night, clawing for attention, refusing to let you push it aside any longer. You stole a glance at him, his profile illuminated briefly as you passed under a glowing streetlamp. His expression was neutral, unreadable as always, yet his presence felt heavier than the cold air.

Taking a steadying breath, you licked your lips, your voice breaking through the quiet. “Have you been following me?”

Your words dangled in the ambiance, remaining in the space between you like a sudden gust of wind.

He turned his head toward you, his steps faltering slightly as his eyes met yours. For a brief moment, his expression flickered—was it surprise? Guilt? Something else? You couldn’t tell. But the tension crackled like static, the city around you fading into the background as you waited for his answer.

He came to a complete stop, his body stiffening as if the weight of your question had rooted him to the ground. His eyes widened, the shock evident as they dropped to his polished shoes, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to meet yours as he rocked between his feet. The faint glow of the city lights above cast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the subtle quiver in his lips.

You tilted your head, studying him with a mixture of resignation and frustration, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. “I knew it,” you muttered, the confirmation settling like a stone in your chest.

Your mind raced back to all those moments—the uneasy prickle at the back of your neck, the lingering sensation of being watched, the inexplicable certainty that he had been near. You remembered the black sedan at the light stop, the way your instincts had screamed his name even before your eyes had confirmed it.

In-ho lifted his gaze, and for a moment, there was something raw in his expression—an apology, perhaps, or a plea for understanding. But before you could decipher it, he moved. He stepped toward you, each footfall deliberate and unyielding, closing the distance between you with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

When he finally stopped, he was closer than he had been all day, his presence towering yet strangely fragile, like he was holding himself together with sheer will as you looked up at him. His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, filled with something that looked like regret tangled with a need he couldn’t suppress.

“I ordered my men to keep their distance,” he admitted, his voice low and unsteady, each word weighed down with guilt. He paused, exhaling shakily as he raked a hand through his hair. “But I wanted to…” He faltered, his gaze breaking away for a moment before returning to you. “needed to make sure you were safe.”

His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, each syllable carrying the weight of his choices and the silent fear he hadn’t dared voice until now. You could see it—feel it—in the way his shoulders slumped slightly, as if the confession had cost him more than he was willing to show.

You turned away from him, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to steady yourself. The city lights blurred in your vision, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. You could feel the tears threatening to rise, but you fought them back, not wanting him to see how deeply his presence still affected you.

“I don’t know what to do with this, In-ho,” you whispered, your voice thick with uncertainty. You wiped at your eyes quickly, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tremor in your hands. “I don’t know what to do with you. With… all of this.” His eyes softened as he took a small step closer, but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t—not right now.

“I don’t expect you to have the answers,” he said quietly, his tone more fragile than you had ever heard it. “I just…I want to make things right, even if I can’t fix everything.”

He took a tentative step closer, his movements slow, as if afraid that any sudden motion might cause you to pull away. You turned back to him. Your breath hitched in your throat, but you didn’t move. The space between you both felt electric, charged with unstated emotion, yet it was still so fragile.

Without saying a word, he reached up, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a wave of emotion crashing over you—everything you had locked away, all the longing and pain, threatening to break free.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into the softness of his touch, letting the comfort of it surround you like a fleeting memory. The space between you was still there, but this touch—this small, gentle act—felt like a lifeline.

Your heart was being pulled in two directions. The part of you that had loved him so fiercely, that had believed in him so completely, still burned with the longing for something—anything—to change. But the other part of you, the part that had been broken by his silence, by his choices, couldn’t see a clear way forward.

“I don’t know if I can let you back in,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, the words leaving your lips like an apology you weren’t ready to make. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that. ”You finally met his gaze, and there was a quiet desperation in his eyes that made your heartache. He didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t need to. His eyes said it all, full of hope and regret and an apology too big to fit into words.

Then without thinking, you whispered, “But I want to try.”

His gaze softened, something in his eyes shifting—relief, hope, or maybe both. Before either of you could speak again, you reached up, your fingers brushing his cheek as you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. The moment felt fragile, full of all the things you had yet to say, and yet, it was everything that had remained unsaid.

When you pulled back, you found yourself searching his eyes, trying to piece together the weight of what was happening between you. You weren’t sure what the future held, but in that moment, you knew you wanted to try.

“I’ll be here,” In-ho whispered, his voice thick with something more than words. “However long it takes.”

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Away Part 1

Regulus Black AU

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T- mentions of abuse

Summary: Growing up in abusive homes has finally reached its breaking point. Regulus comes to run away with you in the middle of the night. Its time for a new life.

____

It was late at night when you heard a soft knock on the front door. Looking up from the book that you had been reading, you knew that knock. That was Regulus. You frowned as you stood up and looked at the clock on the wall. 12:45. It was late for Regulus to come over without any warning.

Walking to the door, you were thankful that your father had passed out drunk. Your very mentally abusive father was usually out cold by 10:00. If he knew that Regulus was there, things would get terrible quickly. Your father hated everything about Regulus, to begin with.

The moment you opened the door, Regulus reached out and grabbed your wrist. Tugging you down the steps, Regulus didn’t say a word until you stopped walking.

“Regulus, what are you doing?”

You questioned, glancing over your shoulder to make sure your father hadn’t heard anything. Regulus stopped and glanced over his shoulder. He took a breath before turning to face you.

In the darkness, you couldn’t see his full face but something told you that he was beaten up too.

“Come on Y/n, we are getting out of here. I have had enough. We aren’t dealing with our parent’s shit anymore.”

Regulus quickly tugged you toward a parked car. Opening the door, he quickly ushered you into the passenger side before hurting to the driver's side. You sat quietly processing everything that had just happened.

“Where did you get a car?”

Regulus kept his grey eyes on the road in front of him.

“Stole it. That is all that you need to know.”

You blinked, again taking everything in.

“Regulus, I am going to have to ask questions. I didn’t even know that you could drive.”

“Having Sirius for an older brother isn’t as bad as one would have thought.”

Regulus replied. He was still going on sheer adrenaline. After the epic showdown with his parents, he wasn’t sure when his normal thinking would return. When he did return to his normal thinking, Regulus wasn’t sure how he would process everything he did. At the moment, however, he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting the two of you out of dodge.

“Regulus, will you please tell me what the hell is going on outside of running away? I am a little freaked out.”

You gasped when Regulus swerved the car to the shoulder of the road. He sat quietly for a moment before turning to face you. When he turned, you suddenly understood everything. Half of Regulus’ perfect face was bruised and swollen.

“Reggie…”

You managed to squeak out as he reached for your hand. His long fingers gently traced over your palm.

“I know. It looks awful. I am tired of our parents beating on us, Y/n. Neither one of us deserves this shit and I am putting an end to it now. We will be 17 soon and we will be able to legally decide our fate. I am terrified that if we wait much longer, one of us may be killed. Again, we are getting the fuck out of here before that could happen.”

Regulus was relieved when you nodded and appeared in agreement.

“You’re right. I am tired of seeing what your bitch of a mother does to you.”

Regulus sighed.

“I told her about us. She flipped the fuck out because you aren’t a pureblood. Apparently, she is trying to arrange a marriage with one of the other snots in my family’s circle. If we stay here, we will never be able to be together. I am not giving you up for some pureblood bitch that I have no interest in.”

As Regulus suspected, you appeared to be completely horrified. You knew that you wouldn’t be good enough for Walburga. That was common sense 101 to you but you never expected her to totally beat Regulus over it.

“You’re right. We have to get out of here. Regulus, what are we going to do?”

Regulus leaned his head back into the headrest and was silent for a moment.

“I have my inheritance from my uncle. He gave it to me some time ago in case I needed to make a quick getaway. I have an idea. Let's just get married. That way if my stupid parents catch us, they won't be able to do a goddamn thing.”

You found yourself staring at Regulus again. This was the most un-Regulus Black thing that you had ever heard come out of his mouth. You had the feeling that Regulus would take some time to propose. Doing it before you were even legally able to do so was totally unexpected.

“Regulus, we are 16. There is no way we would be able to…”

Regulus cut you off by holding his hand up.

“We lie. People lie all the time and we can be one of them. Please Y/n. The only way that everyone will know that we aren’t going to give each other up is if we get married.”

Regulus was relieved when you finally smiled.

“You have definitely put some thought into this. I think you are right. I don’t want us to get married to give our parents the middle finger. I want to marry you because I love you and you are the only person that I could ever picture myself with.”

Regulus gave you the small smile that he only reserved for you.

“Is that a yes, Regulus. I will marry you?”

Leaning across the seats, you gently kissed his cheek.

“Yes, Regulus. I will marry you.”

Regulus pulled you into a soft kiss. Regardless of the moment being rather shitty and the day being horrible…this was exactly what he needed. Breathing in your scent, Regulus felt comforted knowing that his mother would never be able to force the two of you apart.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Regulus took out the engagement ring that his grandmother had given to him years ago with the instructions to give it to the right girl. He wasn’t sure if his grandmother Irma would be happy with his choice of the right girl but Regulus also didn’t care.

“Good, because I didn’t know what else to say.”

Regulus commented before slipping the ring onto your finger. You smiled looking down at the emerald and diamond engagement ring. Regulus didn’t have to tell you to know that this was a family heirloom. This would be yet another fuck you to the Blacks that you would enjoy. The perfect ring would be on your finger while you were married to their perfect heir.

“It's beautiful, Regulus. I love it.”

Regulus nodded.

“And it fits your finger perfectly.”

You moved to lay your head on his shoulder.

“Where are we going to go? You know, after we get married.”

Regulus looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I know where Sirius lives with Remus. We can stay with them until we come up with something more permanent. It wouldn’t be until after we get out of school so that gives us some time.”

“I think we would be safe with Sirius. I know the two of you didn’t part on good terms but he is still your brother.”

Regulus frowned. You were right. He didn’t part on good terms with Sirius. In fact, their last words were down right icy. Regulus would have to do something that he hated doing…apologizing. He knew that he would have to tell Sirius that he was right about everything. That would be a lot like eating dirt but it would have to be done.

I have to apologize to him to have a safe place for Y/n.

Regulus’ grey eyes fluttered back to you. You were busy admiring your engagement ring with a smile on your pretty face. Regulus sighed.

There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for her.

Taking a breath, Regulus sighed.

“You’re right. We didn’t part on good terms but Sirius is my brother. You of all people know that I hate admitting that I am wrong about anything but I was wrong for how I dealt with him.”

You squeezed Regulus’ hand again.

“It's all minor details that we can fix. Now where are we going to get married?”

Regulus started the car and pulled back onto the road.

“I was thinking about the next town over. No one there knows us. It will be easier to get in and out. I only feel guilty that I am not giving you the wedding that you deserve.”

“That is only a minor detail, love. We can always have a wedding later.”

Twenty minutes later, you stood beside Regulus as he filled out the marriage license. The lady at the window had gone off to file some paperwork as if it were just another day. She didn’t seem very interested when the two of you asked to be married. This was just another day at her boring job. The only thing that seemed to spark her interest was the bruise on Regulus’ face.

“Do you think she suspects that we aren’t old enough?”

You whispered. Regulus’ eyes rolled up to the woman as she walked out to find someone to do the ceremony part.

“I think she could care less. Remember, we are being liars. I’m 17 and you're 17.”

You nodded as an older man walked up. He took the certificate while looking between Regulus and yourself.

“Are you the two looking to get married?”

Regulus nodded.

“Yes, we are.”

The older man frowned.

“How old are the two of you?”

Regulus was a lot more confident than you at the moment.

“We are 17 and old enough.”

The man again looked between Regulus and yourself. He wasn’t a fool. In his 30+ years of being in his job, he had seen enough kids sneaking to get married. This appeared to be yet another one of those cases but something also felt different. Whether it be the rough state that Regulus was in or the nervous expression on your face, something told him that this was a big deal.

“Indeed you are. Come with me.”

The next fifteen minutes were a blur for you. You wished that you could have enjoyed the moment a little more. Part of you was worried that Walburga and Orion would burst into the room before everything could be completed. If they did, you knew that they would kill Regulus. You noticed that Regulus had one eye on the door too. Clearly, he was having the same thought process as you.

Regulus felt bad that he wasn’t as present in the moment as he had hoped he would be. Feeling on edge and barely paying attention seemed like a shitty way to start your lives together. The only thing making Regulus feel somewhat okay was the promise that he could give you something better later.

Mum and Dad won’t be able to do shit now. I no longer care about the Black family legacy. I don’t care what any family member has to say about Y/n. They won’t know how truly wonderful she is. If they try to hurt her, I’ll kill them.

Regulus thought as the minister’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Kiss your bride.”

Regulus waited all of two seconds before pulling you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders deepening the kiss. No matter how “off” the situation was, you would make sure that there was at least a decent wedding kiss.

Walking out of the office, you squeezed Regulus’ hand. For the first time since he came and took you away, you felt as if you could somewhat breathe. Now you at least had the promise that what you had with Regulus couldn’t be taken away.

“Everything will be okay.”

Regulus said softly. You stopped walking and moved to wrap your arms back around him.

“Yes, it will. Now let's go talk to Sirius.”

___

@millies0bsimp @geeksareunique @jessyballet @fific7 @knreidy1 @teletubiswszpilkach @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @dumbbunnys-safes @dumybitch @readtomeregulus @i-love-scott-mccall @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @s-we-e-t-t-ea @iluvthe-marauders @woohoney @abaker74 @regulus-black-223048 @saramaple @missgorldafirst @stelleduarte @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @bennyberry @f4iryluvy @panpride @haroldpotterson @mentally-unstable-hoe @goldensunshineshit @padf00ts-l0ver @ravenhood2792 @playmore-zeppelin @authoressskr @emiwrites3reads @knight-of-gleefulness @rogue-nyx88 @shaylybaby2032 @coffeeaddictednymph @livshifts @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ad-astra-again @regulusblackswhorecrux @kindestofkings @criminalyetminimal @rubes-xoxo @untoldshortsofthefandoms

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Thinking about: Meet cute with single parent L.SM

💭Who: Lee Seokmin (Seventeen) x reader 💭What: Fluff. Single parent Seokmin. 💭Word count: 2k 💭Warnings: None! 💭Summary: “ You’re out shopping at your local mall when an adorable child literally runs into you and leads to meeting their adorable dad. ”

Masterlist

A/N- I left the child gender neutral because I honestly couldn’t decide if I should make them a boy or girl so intended to go back and adjust once decided, but then I just got used to writing they/them/their so now you can imagine Seokmin’s child however you like! Also didn’t name them for the same reason

Extra special tag for my darling @tusswrites just to torment her 💗 luv u bby 😘

The pat-pat-pat of little shoes across vinyl floor meets your ears a second before there is a collision against your legs. It’s only a small one and luckily only causes minimal stumbling before you right yourself enough to turn and look down at where a fluffy little something is on the floor by your feet.

Slowly, the fluffy brown tilts back until big eyes peer up at you a little confusedly as a tiny hand pushes the hood back to allow the small child to eye the very thing they had run into.

“Oh, hello,” you greet softly, not wanting to scare the child.

They just blink up at you silently so you peer around in search of sign of an adult looking distressed, yet you can’t see one. You see plenty of adults wandering from store to store and even other children yet none of them seem to be searching for a lost little lion.

After a final glance around, you shuffle back slightly to give you more room to crouch down to be closer to eye level with the child who is still just staring at you silently. “Hello little lion, I think you might have wandered away from your adult, huh?”

“I lion, roar!” The child exclaims as if reminded of their outfit as they hold up both hands into claws and bare their teeth in an utterly adorable way. It doesn’t help that their oversized hood drops back down over their face, obscuring all but half of their tiny, bared teeth and chin.

“Wow! That’s a big roar,” you comment and lower to sit on your butt with your legs crossed. The child grins proudly at you and pushes their hood up again, then entirely back to rest at the back of their neck and reveal two tiny, low messy buns tied with cute little rainbow ribbons printed with rabbits. “I like your ribbons.”

“Bunnies!” The child exclaims and jumps up to start bouncing, making you giggle.

This child is adorable. And perhaps a little too comfortable with strangers so you’re very glad they ran into you and not someone who wouldn’t be a decent human being.

“You’re very good at bunny hopping,” you compliment. The child hops closer to you and wiggles their nose like a rabbit, making you laugh again. “Ah, you’re so cute.”

“I cutest, daddy say I am.”

“I think your daddy might be right. Are you here with him today?” The child nods in confirmation. “Do you remember which store you were in with your daddy?”

“Uhm,” they turn around to look at the surroundings and frown puzzled. “Where daddy?”

“I don’t know sweetheart, that’s what I’m hoping you can tell me. Was daddy looking at something to buy when you saw him last?”

“Daddy buyed more undiewear. His have lotsa holes!”

“Buying more underwear definitely sounds like a good idea in that case,” you agree and get up to offer your hand. “How about we go to that bench, and you can stand on it to look out for daddy and tell me if you see him, yeah?”

The child nods and takes your hand into their small one to happily skip alongside you over to the bench in the centre of the open space of the mall between stores, where you lift them up to let them stand on the seat, even if they’re still nowhere near tall enough to see over all of the heads.

“What was your daddy wearing today, do you remember?” You prompt after standing quietly for a few moments, with a hand on the child’s back securely so they don’t fall while they peer around curiously.

“Uhm daddy and uncle wear same!”

“Your uncle is here too?” The child nods. “Okay and what are they wearing?”

“Uhm…like you!” They poke your black faux-leather jacket at your shoulder.

“Ah, I see.” You look aside and immediately spot at least one person wearing a black leather jacket yet none of them seem to be focused on anything other than their phones or the next store, so you’re certain they can’t be this child’s dad or uncle.

“I hungry,” the child declares suddenly a minute later, making you look at them to find a precious little pout and puppy dog eyes already locked on you. “I hungry.”

“I’m not your parent or trusted adult, you shouldn’t ask others for food,” you reply, making their pout grow bigger. “I’m sure your daddy and uncle will get you something to eat soon.”

“Now?”

“No sweetheart, not now. We need to reunite you first.”

“I hungry now.”

Instead of answering, you sigh a little and turn in hopes of finding their adults. To your relief, you spot a man rushing out of a clothing store a little down the way wearing a black leather jacket and looking frazzled.

“Is that your daddy or uncle?” You ask, pointing over so the child looks and starts to bounce excitedly on the bench, so you quickly wind your arm around them in fear of them falling or getting their foot caught between the slats somehow.

“Daddy!” That’s all the confirmation you need to scoop the child up to hold securely on your hip and start towards the man who is rushing along peering into stores as he passes and asking every other person over his lost child, but he hasn’t spotted you approaching yet. “Daddy!”

That makes him look over and his fear immediately washes away for relief to take over his features. He runs over and happily takes his child from your arms to hold close and press kisses to their hair. “Where did you go, monkey? I was so scared I lost you forever! Never do that again, okay?”

“Sorry daddy, I lost,” the child apologises while hugging their dad tightly and tucking their face up close to his neck while you watch on just glad that this turned out well and doesn’t need to be escalated to security or the police in order to reunite the father child duo.

“I don’t care what anyone says, I’m getting you a leash,” he mutters against his child’s head, and then finally seems to fully register your presence. “Oh, uhm hi, sorry uh, thank you for looking after my child and I won’t really get a leash, I know those are for dogs…or cats…or ferrets…or-”

“I get it,” you assure with a soft laugh, cutting off his nervous rambling. “I think they’re called reins when it’s for kids.”

“Yes! That’s the word I actually meant, thanks.” He chuckles and adjusts his child on his hip before offering his free hand to you. “I’m Lee Seokmin.” You take his hand to shake politely and give your name in return. “Are you busy? I’d really like to buy you a coffee or lunch or something in thanks for reuniting me with my little monkey.”

“I hungry!” The child declares, suddenly upright and on full alert again at the mention of food. “Hungry daddy. We eat with uncle and my friend?”

“Oh, you’re friends now, huh?” Seokmin teases and nudges his child’s nose with his own playfully, making the child giggle.

“Best friends!”

“Aw, what?” He pouts at them and suddenly you see exactly where the child gets the puppy dog eyes from. “I thought I’m your best friend, monkey.”

“Both,” the child reasons simply, making you both laugh a little.

“I can handle that, can you?” Seokmin grins at you. “Sharing the best friend title with me?”

“I think I can handle that,” you agree, making him smile brighter.

“So, lunch?”

“Will your brother be okay with that?” You wonder.

“Brother?”

“Yes, uncle?”

“Oh, he’s not my brother, he’s one of my closest friends. He won’t mind at all, right, monkey? Uncle Wonwoo won’t mind our new friend joining for lunch, right?”

“All be friends,” the child answers.

“Exactly, we can all be friends,” Seokmin agrees in a serious tone despite his amused smile. “So, want to come make friends with a little monkey, their dad and his slightly socially awkward friend?”

“Sounds-” you start to respond but the child interrupts with a huff.

“I lion, daddy,” they correct in a tone that sounds as if it’s not the first time they’ve had to remind him of this very serious fact.

“Oh right, right, lion, sorry little kitten.”

“Cub,” you correct, earning a flat look from Seokmin that you only giggle at.

His face lifts into a softer kind of smile and his head tilts a little as he now takes the chance to look at you properly; your smile, your eyes, your figure from head to toe, but he really does seem mostly focused and entranced by your smile.

“Hey!” The call of a deep, male voice makes Seokmin, and his child look over, so you do too and find another man donning a black leather jacket jogging over. He glances between you and Seokmin curiously before smiling at the child and taking them from their dad’s arms when they hold out their arms while leaning over. “Hey cub, where’d you go huh?” His voice turns so much softer now that he’s talking to the child, so adoring and utterly precious. It softens his whole somewhat intimidating presence in a way you can’t blame him for at all.

This child truly is heart-meltingly sweet.

“Made friend, uncle Wonwon.”

“Ah, you made a friend?” The man looks at you curiously and offers a little, polite smile before turning his attention back to the child to lean in closer and talk between them quietly.

“So, you didn’t get to answer about lunch,” Seokmin reminds, drawing your attention back to him. He has a hopeful smile lifting his lips and a nervousness in his eyes that he can’t quite hide.

The more time you spend around this man and witness his expressions, the more you see who his child takes after. You really don’t need to meet the mother to know that this child is almost Seokmin’s twin in tiny form.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, I’m just glad to see you reunited and such a sweet child back in loving arms.”

“Your arms seem pretty loving,” he comments without thought, then immediately blushes, and flails a little. “I didn’t mean anything by that! Well I did but not like that! Not-not in a hitting on you way! Not that I think that’s a very good way to flirt; I may be out of practise the past few years but even I know that’s a bad line!”

Once again, you find yourself giggling softly. “It’s okay, I understand. Save the flirting for after lunch,” you joke and try not to turn shy at your own brave flirtation.

“Oh!” Seokmin’s expression turns oddly blank for a moment, except for his wide, shocked eyes on you. You almost start to apologise and retract your words, yet his cheeks lift high as he breaks out into a bright, beautiful smile. “You’re right, flirting should never be done on an empty stomach!” He declares and motions vaguely behind him. “So let’s go get lunch and move onto dessert, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you comically, making you laugh before he joins in.

The four of you turn and head off to find somewhere to get lunch. You catch the uncle leaning over to whisper to Seokmin teasingly; asking if he and the child should leave you and Seokmin alone to flirt in peace, making Seokmin blush and shove his friend gently, not willing to risk his friend dropping his daughter by pushing any harder.

Seokmin glances at you shyly and offers an embarrassed little grin when he realises that you heard the other man’s comment.

“Maybe next time,” you bravely suggest, making Seokmin’s nerves melt away as he grins and nods in agreement.

You really don’t know what the future holds for you and Seokmin. Maybe it won’t go anywhere past today, or maybe it’ll be a long future with his precious little child growing up feeling love from the both of you, perhaps with siblings following along. There’s no knowing how it will go, but you sure are excited to find out.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @svtiddiess

[knnichs]

my eternity

young love, loyalty, and admiration. a gentle reminder from your dear friend that he will stick with you, even after you've gotten sick of him.

c. kingdom messenger sethos x royalty gn!reader

t. character(s) are friends with reader but have romantic feelings, mutual pining (ish??), royalty au obviously, friends to something more but less than lovers LOL, reader is the princeps/princess/prince of the vehero kingdom, dehya obviously knows about readers crush on sethos & sethos' crush on reader, fluff, not proofread we die like bamoun, POSSIBLY OOC SETHOS ??? wc: 4.1k WOOHOO

taglist. @thestarswhisper @honeyney @pneumosia @tragedy-of-commons @gl4di0lus @ariadnehelx @azuresaqua @mikashisus @yuomizuu-> join the taglist here!

author notes at the end !

The sun had already begun to set, but your day was far from finished.

Being the future ruler of the Vehero Kingdom, you had quite the list of responsibilities. It wasn’t as simple as attending your classes on time and doing homework once you got back anymore–despite being homeschooled your whole life. No, you now had to help with managing the events, attending meetings, and political discussions. You have to watch your every step as even the smallest mistake may lead to war.

Now is a time where you truly had to be aware of everything you say. The annual banquet was just around the corner and you had prepared a hefty bit of it. So, safe to say that you have put in a ton of effort just to make this event possible this year. It’s not that your parents didn’t trust anyone to do it for them, or they didn’t have the time to manage it–you were of age now. Maybe it’s time you take part in these events, they said to you.

You’re tired of it, though. Incredibly tired.

In between your duties–you caught glimpses of a familiar dark brown haired fellow come and go in the palace; talking with the maids, laughing while playing cards with the guards, and leaving once more with his bag filled to the brim. Sethos, your kingdom's beloved messenger. 

You remember telling him to deliver the invitation letters in the port's post office after the last group of messengers failed to bring it as they ‘lost’ them (they really just went to the tavern and completely forgot about it.) He’s quite efficient with his work–usually a quick trip to the port would be around 30 minutes by foot, yet he manages to come back 15 minutes earlier. 

Ah, yes. His “secret power,” as he loved to say. Especially when the king, your father, compliments him for his diligent work and asks for his route–he simply shrugged and said “I just move fast.” 

There he is, in the flesh, several doors away from you; your best friend of many years now. He’s come to teach you many things about the palace. Secret doors that lead to underground tunnels, hidden doors in the library… You wonder why he knows all of this. 

You lean on the wall, shoulders shrugged as you crossed your arms and sighed. You couldn’t wait until night came around–changing into your silk robes and lying on the soft mattress while reading a book you liked, or falling asleep immediately.

“Your highness,” Dehya coughed, seeing your prolonged stare at the window. You hadn’t noticed you zoned out already–no wonder your eyes felt heavy. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head as you faced the girl, greeting her with a small smile. “Nothing in particular, Dehya.” 

She glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Sethos immediately. And she grins. “Boy problems? Why don’t you go talk to him?” 

For some odd reason, the idea makes you a little excited. After a really long day, a good talk with your… friend, would be pretty rewarding. Sethos is quite an entertaining person–you thought to yourself many times, questioning if he could possibly feel the same way to you.

But again, it probably wouldn’t happen at all. 

“Ah, yes! Let’s go bother someone who is clearly busy. Great idea.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on, your highness. I don’t think he’ll mind,” Dehya takes a few steps closer to you, hand pointed at the window as she looks at you encouragingly. “See? He’s wavin’ at you right now.”

You went to look at the window–watching what was going on. “No, he isn’t.”

“Oh my god–just go approach him!”

“And I’m telling you, I’m doing something.”

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Dehya puts her arms up in defeat, eyes closed as she looks down at the floor and grinned. “I’ll see you later, your highness.”

She walks away, leaving you alone in the hallway filled with tiles and marbles and old paintings that look almost alive. You stare as she opens the doors and goes to the many living rooms in the palace. A part of you thought that she was right–maybe you should. But you somehow couldn’t get the courage to.

“He’s busy.” You repeat–mostly for yourself.

 “We both don’t have the time.”

It’s been a hectic day. You’ve walked maybe ten thousand steps today from preparations alone, you wonder how it would be like on the event itself. You’ve talked with the maids, told the band what to play during the dinner, you cleared the menu your parents created as they weren’t appropriate at all for a banquet, so you ended up creating another menu and checked with the chefs if they were possible. There were just so many more that it’s hard to list them all in your head. 

Now, you were fresh out of a hot bath, some chamomile tea on the side of your nightstand. You were laying in your bed, wrapped in the softest blanket, dressed in loose clothing, and you had just finished reading your book. The night was cold, so your balcony was halfway opened to bring some air into your bedroom. The moon is shining on the carpet, it’s comfortable, it’s nice. 

But you can’t sleep. Not at all.

Some thoughts are rushing in your head–and there are no thoughts at all. The blanket is soft, but you feel too hot, and when you take it off you feel cold. Your head sinks into the pillows but it makes you dizzy, your tea was too sweet and now you wonder if you somehow added too much sugar and ended up getting the energy to do things. You’re tired, but not at the same time.

Does that make sense?

On nights where you find yourself restless, your first thought is to go to the gardens. There, you’re alone, only with the moon's gaze and the flowers you tend to when you have the time. Tonight is no different. Once again, you’re looking up at the sea of stars above you to find comfort.

If being an heir to the throne was this stressful, you wonder how much worse it’ll be when you do eventually become their leader.

“In deep thought, your highness?” A familiar voice calls just behind the bushes, to where the swing is. Usually you’re all alone on these nights, but it doesn’t necessarily mean a certain someone joins you from time to time.

“Sethos,” you push a few stray vines from the tree, ducking down from the branches and looking at the white swing. “Apologies… for the silence. I didn’t notice you were here.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t say anything anyway.” He pats down the space beside him, moving a little to make more room. You smile, taking a seat and nodding a thanks to the boy.

Silence wasn’t uncommon when it came to the two of you. He understood your duties drained you socially and physically—which is why he usually fills the silence with his voice. Talking about his day, what he did, or reminiscing a little on memories from the past.

“You’ve been out and about, what brings you here at this hour? I’d be too tired to even make the trip.” His voice had a raspier edge than usual—proof of his exhaustion from the day as well.

You look at the sky again, “I don’t know, actually. I felt too tired to sleep. Quite odd, isn’t it?” 

He laughs, the sound bringing a certain warmth burst in your stomach. 

“I’ve got just the idea then.” The boy stands from the swing and it sways the slightest bit from the sudden movement. He reaches a hand to you, offering to help you up. “Wanna join me, your highness?”

“Sethos, my friend—I trust you, but… is this okay?” You held the ends of its saddle. With a huff, Sethos successfully brings the two horses you got for your 16th birthday out of the stables. Without alerting anyone at that. 

He blows the flame in the lamp, leaving the room dark as you two head out to the streets. “Yes, yes. It’s fine, completely fine.” 

Although, you're not the least bit assured. If your parents catch you sneaking out late at night–without a small group of guards with you–the scolding would last weeks. All Sethos is doing is taking your hand in his, nodding as a promise. We won't get caught, and you won’t have to suffer through their endless yelling.

The sounds of their hooves tapping against the stone floor echoes throughout the streets. It’s a sound you pay no mind to in the morning–especially during events, where there are more horses to count. But at night, everything just seems to be louder. But you push forward, seeing as your little friend is exceptionally confident that nothing would go wrong. Oh, to see the look on his face when he does get caught sneaking out with the heir of the royal family this late at night–it makes you curious. Would he feel guilty, or would he feel playful and try again another time?

“This way,” He whispers, redirecting the two of you into an alleyway. You know this place, you often head through here when you need to reach the gatehouse quickly. 

Which has you wondering, where is he even taking you?

There are not many places in the kingdom that would require you to pass by this specific alleyway to the gates. Well, there are none at all. The gates have only one use, and it’s to exit and enter the walls of your kingdom with ease–so why is he bringing you there with not one–but two horses?

Is he planning an escape? There is that possibility, the only problem being that he never told you in advance–how were you to get clothes and daily necessities without any mora on hand? You didn’t even fill a single pouch with the coins, like what they do in drama plays when the main character elopes with the love interest!

If that’s the case, then is this some kind of proposal? It’s true that you find Sethos attractive–you liked the way he carried himself in conversations… his smile, the way he urges you to do the most random things. Like, five years ago when he asked you to play in the mud with him after a storm. Who even offers to do that as a pastime? Your clothes would’ve gotten stained with the dirt, but he insisted otherwise. 

So he’s seriously asking you to elope with him, this is just insanity!

“Sethos–wait!” You stop in your tracks, holding your palm up to his face when he turns around. “Is there… something you want to say?” 

He pauses for a moment, blinking in surprise. What, had you finally caught on? Did you figure him out, with the way he’s acting right now? Holding your hand, guiding you through the kingdom–gods, he hoped not.

He laughs, “What are you even talking about? Read too many fantasy books?”

“I just–” 

“No, I’m not trying to kidnap you–or anything of the sort. We’re going out to a spot I know that could help you relax.” Sethos takes a few deep breaths, no doubt trying to calm his heart from exploding at that very moment. He puts your hand to his chest, looking at you with those bright eyes of his. “Trust me. I won’t do anything to harm you, your parents would kill me if I did.” 

That, they would. But you don’t say it outloud. Instead, you gently nod your head and he smiles.

“Aren’t there any guards around?” You ask, hiding behind a crate–you can’t say the same about your companion, on the other hand, and the horse you’re with right now. (Her head is peeking over the tall crates stacked on top of another, but she looks adorable doing it.)

Sethos has his arm raised in front of you. “Well, yes. But look closely.” 

You squint as you do, but you see Cyno–the highest ranking knight–lead the other guards stationed by the gates to a game of TCG. It was just a sight to see, truly, you knew Cyno loved playing the card game–but not this much.

You try to hold back a chuckle but Sethos catches on, nudging you with his elbow, his lips curving. 

“Let’s go, before they come back.” The boy says, holding the lead rope and leading the three of you to the gates. 

“Did you pay Cyno to do this?”

“Maybe.”

The first thing that greets you outside of the kingdom walls is the familiar blow of the cold night wind, the earth's somewhat comforting dirt smell, and the deafening sounds of crickets around you. Sethos helps you up as you hop on your horse, gesturing for you to follow him into the forest. 

The air only gets colder as you move, racing through the trees as Sethos speeds up. If anyone would pass through the woods now, the first thing they would hear is the laughter you two are letting out. One moment Sethos is in front of you, the second you turn he’s already behind you, preparing to scare you.

You slow down when you realize you were all alone. The trotting of Sethos’ horse can’t be heard, and no matter how loud you shout for him, he wouldn’t pop out of nowhere. You thought this might just be an elaborate set up for another scare he was going to give you, but you’re shocked to see that even after a few moments pass by, he still cannot be found.

Great. It’s the middle of the night, you’re stranded in a forest and you have no clue how to get back to the kingdom, and you have no knight with you. You don’t even know how to use a dagger. This is exactly a plot for an assassination, based on the books you’ve read. 

After some seconds of struggling to get off your horse, you pat her back as a thank you. You’re not sure why you did that, exactly, the gesture just seemed nice. 

Then, the sound of rustling reaches your ears.

It was from behind you–as you turned, you saw nothing but bushes. It was quite dark–so except for the moonlight shining on the field right now, you could barely see anything past the trees. Maybe it was just a rabbit, it always is. So you turn,  paying no mind to the potential danger that could lie beyond it.

Suddenly you’re tackled on the ground, rolling over the patch of grass as someone has their arms around you. You’re tense, trying to break free from their hold–but once you had opened your eyes, you found out it was just Sethos who had, once again, scared the soul out of you.

“What is wrong with you?!” You yell, though playfully–you try to get him off, but he wouldn’t budge. Not at all. In fact, he impossibly hugs you tighter.

The boy doesn’t respond, instead letting go and helping you sit. You try to brush off the grass on your clothes, and once you look up, a yellow-orange glow surrounds the both of you. Fireflies. There are about a handful of them around the field, they look like stars from afar, it’s a mesmerizing sight, really. 

“How do you like it?” Sethos whispered, sitting beside you. 

You smile, “It’s beautiful.”

“I’d hope so. I found out about this place when I was out delivering the letters,” He plucks something from the ground, then reaches for your chin. He gently makes you turn to face him, and you notice the orange glow reflected in his eyes as he does. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, placing a flower right on top. “Is it to your satisfaction, your highness?”

The action makes your heart skip a beat–you almost think that the two of you were having a moment until he ruffled your hair playfully and looked away. You don’t answer the question.

“Dehya told me you saw me this afternoon lazing around near the guardhouse,” He muttered, his voice softly muffled since he kept his hand on his mouth. “I was actually chatting with them. A lot of the guards seem to like you now that you’re running around the castle more often.”

“Really?” 

“They kinda look forward to seeing you now,” He hummed, “I guess the same could be said for me… Except–I was first, of course.”

“Oh, so you only liked me now, is that it?” You reached over and poked his sides teasingly, the boy laughed in response, trying to get your hand out.

“No–no! Of course not! I mean… I’ve always liked you, you know? But in like–not in a weird way.” Sethos looks away once again, but you catch a glimpse of the red dusting his cheeks. The boy was a liar, and you knew that. 

He cleared his throat before speaking up once again, trying to clear up the awkward tension in the air.“A-anyway, how’s the banquet preparation going?”

The banquet was the last thing you wanted to talk about, if you were being honest. You came here to relax–not to talk about this again. You groan when you let yourself fall into the grass, Sethos turns his head from the sudden movement. He laughs,  “Well, not a fan of the topic?”

“Talk about something else. I beg.” 

“Okay then,” He reaches for something in his leather bag, he doesn’t take his hand out yet.  “My friend, Tighnari. Oh, not to talk about it again but, you guys should totally invite him–well, his kingdom, to the banquet.”

You roll your eyes when he mentions the event once more, “I don’t think that’s talking about something else.”

“Anyway,” The boy grinned, trying to continue the topic anyway. “He’s a botanist, so he’s great with flowers. One day, he told me that if you pressed flowers, you could get a pretty good bookmark.”

He gives you said bookmark, smiling. “So, here. White roses in resin, since you like to read.”

Your lips curved as you received the box, sitting back up and muttering a thank you.  A singular flower could be seen in the middle, its petals made to look as if it was still blooming. There were a few scattered branches around, and some leaves on the side for decorative purposes. The translucent resin only added to its beauty, it wasn’t too thick–nor too thin, definitely a bookmark you could use for your reading. You struggled finding random objects to mark the page you were on anyway.

“Thank you, Sethos.” You muttered shyly, “You just know everything, don’t you?”

You still held the bookmark in your hands, admiring the details of the flowers–the placement alone is already something to be amazed about. Everything fits perfectly, right to your preferences. You wondered if the flowers itself represent some sort of meaning–Sethos may not look like it, but he says things with hidden hints most of the time. 

“How did you meet Tighnari?” You asked, glancing over the bookmark once more. “You mentioned he was from another kingdom, I’m wondering how you got to know him.”

He leans back, hands supporting his weight from behind his back. “Pure coincidence,”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah. Cyno and I got assigned to a mission, we were just going to accompany the King and the Queen for their afternoon tea time.” He continued, “Asked Cyno to come with me and walk around, we were bored to death. He refused and just stayed put. I walked around and saw the guy in their garden fiddling with the plants.”

“He was complaining about the placement. ‘The flowers won’t get any sunlight from here, and it’s way too unaligned!’ ” He imitated, you chuckle at his horrible impersonation. 

You smile, “I’d like to get to know him someday.”

“Oh, you should! His skill is just impressive. Once you’re done chatting, you’re bound to know a thing or two about plants.” He grins.

“You know, you always seem to bring people like that into your life.” You say, “People who are really good at what they do. Tighnari with his plants, Cyno with–whatever he’s doing, and you with your… well, everything.”

Sethos turns to look at you, a look of disbelief and playfulness. “What? My charm? Come on, your highness. I’m honored but–”

“No, I meant more with your ability to just… click,  with anyone. You’re not charming, not one bit.” You reply softly, seeing the way he looks almost sad with what you said–even if you knew he was just acting. 

“Okay, maybe add the charm, too. You do have a way of making people comfortable.” 

The boy chuckles, clearly flattered–but deflects the compliment with a shrug. “It comes natural to me, nothing impressive.”

“If you say so. I think otherwise,” You lay back down, looking at the stars. “But you are lovely to be around.”

Sethos is quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands–pondering your words. He had known you for many years now, but still, moments like this are… uncommon. Very rarely does Sethos open up to you, and the reverse. He thinks it may just be the exhaustion letting you speak freely. At the end of the day, you have a reputation to keep up as royalty.

He tilts his head, giving you that easygoing smile of his–a slight red still visible on his cheeks. “Someone’s gotta look out for you, your highness. I know Cyno or the other guards may just be more capable than I am, but–” 

The boy finds a place beside you, laying on his side and turning to face you. “I have certain things that they don’t have. I’ve certainly known you for longer, I think that’s a plus.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, “I’ll hold you to that. Now you must follow me when I go to the market early in the morning.”

“Don’t I already do that?” 

You hum, “Oh, I guess you do. You’re even more fitting, then.” 

A silence, once again fills the air.

“I have much to do tomorrow,” You mumbled, eyes slowly closing with your fatigue. “Will you have some free time during the afternoon? Let’s eat lunch together,” 

“I doubt it’s appropriate for a messenger to be dining with royalty alone.” He says. 

You yawn, subtly stretching your back before rolling over to lay on your back, where you wouldn’t face him. “Don’t worry. It’ll just be like… friends eating together.”

Friends. The word is unfamiliar in your throat–It’s something more than friends, what you two have. Definitely not lovers, despite the feeling you get in your stomach when you see him look at you in a way anyone else couldn’t. You weren’t just friends either–assuming that the softness in his tone whenever he speaks to you was only reserved for you. 

He nods, saying why not?  You smile in response, falling asleep in the bed of flowers. It’s oddly comforting, actually, and quite cozy. You’ve never slept on the ground before. 

“Your highness,” Sethos whispers, checking if you were awake. The sun had already started to rise, and the kingdom was starting to get lively once more as he heard the chatter of the guards just a little beyond the forest. He smiles, realizing you indeed have fallen asleep. He’s glad that you somehow found comfort, even if you weren’t at home. 

He reaches to carry you in his arms, gently raising you up–careful not to wake you when you’re sleeping soundly. “Come on, highness. Hold tight.”

When he reaches to call for the horses, he wonders if you’ve ever stopped to think about what he truly feels towards you. It’s the saddest thing ever, that you don’t know his heart is full of you. He adores you more than words could express–yet you don’t have a clue, only because he never had the guts to tell you, not once. 

Sethos walks towards the kingdom, you in his arms, and the lead ropes wrapped around his wrist. The sun shines on your face, and he wonders if you’re bothered by the sudden brightness, especially after spending the night in the woods. 

As much as you hate it–he’s proud that you’re now the person organizing the yearly banquet. He knows how much you dread the event the day it comes, you hate socializing with people you barely knew. But he wishes that maybe you’ll change your mind this time around now that his friends would be coming along. People from the Akademiya, even if you don’t know them, he’ll be the one to introduce you to the people he also treasures.

Being the future ruler of Vehero, you certainly do have a longer list of responsibilities than he does. Although… he hopes that one day, his name wouldn’t be something on an endless list of chores.

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

reblogs with comments are INCREDIBLY appreciated! go scream go feral idc i will eat all of them up and run away with a familiarly shaped reblog in my mouth, thank you.

wow this was an eyesore to write. dawg i AM NERVOUS ABOUT THE DIALOGUE THERE ARE SO MANY IM SO SCARED ITS REDUNDANT i hate dialogue i say i hate it. this was so hard to write but i lowkey enjoyed it too (no1 party anthem on loop I WAS SO LOCKED IN) this took so long too .... ong i am GLAD its finally over hell yeah :pray: i MIGHT do a part two (keyword MIGHT) where they finally get together . .. But probably not im too lazy thank you goodnight

[shadesofgreyy]

Ooh, I got the impression that Lily actually felt quite betrayed and hurt, especially when she said things like, “It’s too late, I’ve made excuses for you for years, you and your precious little Death Eater friends... you don’t even deny what you’re all aiming to be.”  And then her giving him a contemptuous look right before leaving too. That really doesn’t sound like someone who’s moved on or forgiven to me; it sounds more like someone who’s reached their breaking point. There's this clear sense of hurt and frustration that she can no longer ignore the reality of the choices Snape is making, which is understandable, because in her mind, he wants to be join the people that wants to eradicate her kind, which is like a huge betrayal for her. I also think there’s a limit to her ability to understand him. Their upbringings were quite different. Lily was loved by her parents (unlike Snape) and was better off economically than Snape. Their different upbringings shaped them in ways that would make it hard for Lily to fully grasp why Snape would align himself with people like Mulciber and Avery, despite knowing about his home life and being empathetic to it. Especially since she and Snape were just teenagers, there was likely a communication barrier where Snape couldn’t or wouldn’t open up about all of his feelings and struggles. For instance, in their conversation (the memory right before SWM happened), when Lily calls out Snape for hanging out with Mulciber and Avery and tells him directly that she doesn't understand what he sees in them and why he hangs out with them, he deflects by bringing up the Marauders instead, not communicating with her. He wasn’t giving her reasons for his choices or needs, and I think a lot of that comes down to his own pride, insecurity and need for independence. The way he lashed out with "mudblood" in SWM too shows just how much he hated feeling vulnerable. He didn’t want to be seen as weak or pitied, and that made it even harder for him to open up to Lily imo. And it didn't help that James was literally humiliating Snape in front of Lily on purpose to show off his dominance and strength and highlight Snape's weakness and "unworthiness". It’s tragic because Lily loved him and tried to understand his choices, but the "clash" in communication and values made that impossible. I don’t think forgiveness was something she was ready for at that point tbh, but that's just my interpretation. She did move on though after that.

i keep pondering over in my head wether lily potter would have forgiven snape. on one hand i’m like fuck no, i don’t care what anybody says she would have NOT forgiven him. on the other i’m thinking that despite all the bullshit in the end he did switch sides and protect harry (despite being a complete arsehole to him and only really doing it cause of his love? obsession? for lily)

open to hearing anyones thoughts on this

[thicccshady]

Hype Man🤧

Eminem X Reader

✨️MasterList✨️

Content: Sick, Cursing

She ripped into a new box of tissues as a sneeze came on. Having the immune system of a Victorian baby bird came with Spidey-senses anytime she got sick. Nonetheless, the rushing led-heavy head and stuffed nose was still a nuisance.

Marshall had been very sweet. This was supposed to be a busy weekend, one she had looked forward to. Marshall’s foundation had planned a benefit concert, of course hosted in Detroit. But selfishly, she was a tad more excited to babysit her fourteen-month-old niece.

Babysitting her niece was more than just a favor for her sister—it was a chance to bond with the tiny, giggling tornado she adored. But now, with her sinuses pounding like the bass at any of Marshall’s concerts, and her body feeling like wet sand, she had no choice but to cancel. Marshall had offered to step in, but she’d quickly squashed that idea.

“You’re joking. There’s absolutely no way. This kid is in the ‘lick everything’ stage. You don’t need a baby, whatever bug I’ve got, and a concert to manage. Marshall, you can’t bring her on stage with you,” she’d insisted over the phone, punctuating her argument with a sneeze.

“She could be my hype man…” She didn’t laugh at his joke. He did not need anyone to encourage this terrible idea. Marshall accepted defeat, “Fine, but I did order something for her. I think it should be delivered soon.” 

A familiar warmth spread inside her at the thought of Marshall finding something special for their little guest, even if it wouldn’t be used this time. After a quick call to her sister, she learned she wasn’t the only one under the weather. They would also be spending the night in, cuddled under blankets and tissue snow. Relieved it all worked out; sleepiness snuck back in. Curled up in one of Marshall’s sweatshirts and a fluffy duvet, her eyes drifted shut. 

A doorbell ring interrupted just as she began to doze Lifting her head, the sound puled her from the haze of impending sleep. Groaning, she sluggishly got up, clutching the duvet around her shoulders like a makeshift cocoon. Peeking through the peephole, she spotted the delivery box that Marshall had anticipated.

Opening the door, she brought the package inside and set it on the coffee table, sneezing twice in rapid succession as she did. The cardboard box was plastered with colorful cartoon animals, the kind of thing designed to make parents (or uncles with absolutely no restraint) click “buy now” without hesitation. Peering at the carnival-vomit of colors in front of her, she wondered what could be inside. But she knew how much Marshall liked to open thing, especially toys. So, she pushed her curiosity to the back of her mind and returned to her tissue box. 

---

Marshall pushed open the door later that evening, his hoodie pulled up against the icy Detroit wind. Rehearsal had run longer than expected—typical for a benefit concert, where every note had to be perfect—but he was still riding the high of hearing the preview of the booming polished sound coming that evening. His voice was a little hoarse, but his energy was electric. 

The sight of her curled up under a mountain of blankets brought him back to reality. Tissue boxes littered the coffee table alongside an untouched mug of tea, long since gone cold. She looked up groggily as he set his stuff down by the door. 

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said with a lopsided grin. "How are you holding up?"

"Huh??," she muttered. Her ears were plugged. She couldn’t understand him, but she was happy he was home. "Looks like rehearsal went well!"

Smirking he spot the unopened delivery box on the coffee table. "You didn’t open it?" 

She shook her head. "Figured you'd want the honors."

"Fuck yeah." He smirked, grabbing the box and unconventionally tearing into it. Any chance of reusing the box vanished as the colorful cardboard fell away to reveal a bright plastic baby turntable, complete with tiny buttons, flashing lights, and a toy record that could actually spin. Marshall’s face lit up. You’d think he just opened a new expensive revolutionary gadget, not necessarily a fisher price toy.

“Are you kidding me right now?” she croaked, trying not to laugh, coughing lightly into a tissue. “A turntable? She’s not even two, Marshall.”

"Exactly. Gotta start her early," he said, already pressing buttons to make the toy light up and emit comically cheerful beats. Pursing his lips, he nodded along to the mechanical beat playing a number song through the tiny speakers.

“Does Mr. Porter know about this?” She teased, amused by his dancing.

“Oh, he will soon.” Marshall discovered a new button. The music stopped as a chipper voice said “Let’s record a track! When the light turns red, sing a song.” He made eye contact with her as he brought the toy closer to his mouth to sing “I’m fucking awesome.”

After a brief second of holding in her laughter, they heard Marshall’s voice played over a basic beat on repeat. She lost it. Even though she felt terrible, she had missed his goofy ass so much today. Her laughter quickly turned into a barky coughing fit. 

He gently sat the toy down and crossed over to her. Rubbing her back gently, he handed her the mug of tea, remembered it was cold, and excused himself to grab her a drink. 

Marshall quickly returned with a fresh mug of tea, steam curling upward in inviting wisps. He placed it on the table in front of her and crouched down to her level, his expression soft with concern.  

“Are you sure you’re alright? You sound worse than before,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her clammy forehead.  

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she croaked, her voice raspy and unconvincing. “Just got a little too excited about your next Grammy-winning single.”  

“Yeah, that shits gonna put me on the map.” He smirked, tilting his head. Returning to the matter at hand. “You need to clear out your sinuses before you cough up a lung. C’mon steam always helps.”  

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Strip show? Right now?” 

“The fuck? No.” He stood, swallowing a chuckle, and stretching his arms above his head. His hoodie rode up slightly. “I gotta get ready and you’re coming with me. Bathroom’s basically a steam room.” He winked. She groaned in protest at the thought of moving. He held out his hand to help her. “You can sit on the counter, wrapped in your… what the fuck is all of this? Cocoon. The steam will do the work, and I’ll get ready. Win-win.”

---  

The bathroom quickly filled with steam, the mirror fogging over as hot water rained down in a steady rhythm. She perched on the counter, clutching the fresh mug of tea. The heat and moisture in the air began working its magic, easing the tension in her head and loosening the congestion in her chest.  

From behind the frosted shower door, Marshall’s silhouette worked as he hummed and mumbled lyrics, his low voice carrying a certain intimacy in the small, echoing space.  

“Better?” he called out between verses. 

She gently nodded, “Yeah, actually,” she replied, her voice already less strained. “I can breathe through my left nostril again. It’s a miracle.” 

"Hell yeah, lefty’s always been the MVP."  

She shook her head, amused by his goofy banter. The warmth in the room wasn’t just from the steam, his energy. Normally he was drained when he came home, especially after a long day like today. But right now, he was infectious, ridiculous. He managed to distract her from how miserable she felt. She sipped her tea. Breathing deep, the steam loosened something caused her to sneeze, cough, cough, sneeze, and cough (in that order). 

“I’m fine!” she quickly added before blowing her nose, knowing Marshall just heard all of that. 

“Me when my girl makes that noise.” She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Turning she saw Marshall’s Shallotte holding something long extruding from his hips.

“Marshall, is that a fucking shampoo bottle?” She chuckled at his immature joke. 

“No… it’s two shampoo bottles.”

“Oh, my bad,” she said with a teasing eye-roll he couldn’t see.  

A pause, followed by the sound of the water shutting off. Marshall cracked the shower door open just enough to peek his head out, his hair dripping and a boyish grin on his face. “You know the real thing is bigger.”  

“Debatable,” she teased, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.  

He stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Droplets of water trailed down his chest, and she had to resist the urge to make a comment about the man in front of her. Instead, she opted for another sip of tea, hoping the steam would mask the flush creeping up her cheeks.  

Marshall grabbed another towel and tossed it over his head, rubbing at his hair in quick, careless movements. “Hey! You’re starting to look a little less like shit,” he said, his voice muffled by the towel.  

“Oh Thanks,” she said dryly. “Careful, you’ll give me a bottle boner.”  

Marshall dropped the towel and grinned at her. “Hey, I’m just saying, the steam’s working.” He leaned against the counter next to her, his damp hair dripping onto his back. “I could bring that turntable in here,” he suggested. “Record a sick diss against the bug inside you.”  

The thought made her laugh a genuine, belly-deep laugh that made her cough again, but it was worth it.  

“There’s my girl,” he said softly, reaching out to squeeze her knee as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

A/N: This is the exact toy referenced. I am heavily considering buying it for a friend's kid. Watch some review videos for giggles.

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[void-tiger]

…wHY do y’all feel the need to mention where someone’s at when they’re not around! Sure I have a crush on that idiot but I’m never going to admit to it, and actively avoid bringing them up myself ‘cause it’d feel like a freudian slip and it’s not my business anyway.

How often do I even come up in y’all’s home conversation. Is it out of pity? Or is this idiot just as insufferable as I am to my friends who are WELL AWAY from this and therefore Safe to repeatedly try spring-cleaning my demiromantic acengst with.

Are y’all pressuring them about me, too, or has that FINALLY, finally eased off.

(And what value can I possibly have, anyway. I’m unemployed and just shy of a shutin from severe anxiety/moderate depression and cptsd, adhd, and a smorgasbord of muscular-skeletal issues that just keep creeping up and staying and moving the goalpost to even TRY getting a job. The idiot has other friends when they have time to spend on them. All I am is stubborn enough to stick around and wait if I’m not actively being chased off IF the other party seems to really want that connection.)

[goblins-and-gloves]

Angry at parents hour!

Undiagnosed autistic fuckers are delulu.

[cabinetofquriosities]

Definitely something I wish more writers would remember when they write her. I love how the show didn’t soften this. The whole sequence of her killing witches with Nicholas was extremely disturbing and they didn’t shy away from the fact that she was a serial killer. (I wish there were gifs of these scenes) They also still had her not feeling much remorse for any of the witches who died on the road. Love this analysis. It really shows why her character is so compelling.

I also love how they show the “antisocial” bit of the condition. Her lack of meaningful empathy and trauma of being rejected by her community at a young age led her to fear covens, thereby leading her to target them. It was a foregone conclusion to her that they would eventually betray her anyway, which was a sentiment she shared with her son. She loved him fiercely, but also had no qualms with turning him into a lure for her victims. She essentially destroyed any sense of right and wrong in him. He was so used to it that he would just chill outside playing with animals while listening to women begging his mother to stop. There is no doubt that he would have grown up to be a similar type of sociopath barring any other interference in his life. Given that Rio was his other parent, he wouldn’t get much of a humanizing influence from her either. In fact, he is a pretty terrible person in the comics who betrays her and acts as brutally as her.

The lack of social influence on Agatha is also shown whenever she starts to feel accepted by others. She seems genuinely uncomfortable with it and fearful since her closest people literally tried to execute her as a child. So, she either tries to push them away beforehand or turn on them the moment they seem to confirm her fears of rejection. It’s most apparent when she is by the fire with the coven. They are laughing and bonding, even including her while sharing stories. She looks awkward, nervous, but also grateful at the fleeting feeling of acceptance.

Beyond that, she was cared for by the town of Westview while she was debilitated by Wanda’s spell. They made sure she was fed and kept busy by playing along with her delusions. It was an incredibly sweet gesture done by the community. Instead of feeling grateful for the selfless kindness shown to her, Agatha was hostile toward everyone the moment she regained her senses. Anyone who has known a sociopath has felt the sting of not receiving any gratitude no matter how much they did for them.

One of those people who helped was Sharon Davis. She was a sweet woman who cared about her. Agatha not only fails to thank her, but then goes on to use her by bringing her to a summoning under false circumstances, knowing she would die. During the trial, Agatha all but ignored the trauma that Sharon reacted to when she was hallucinating Wanda. She then trued to leave her behind in the flood, but only came back for her when she knew they needed her later. Once she does die, Agatha doesn’t even care enough to remember her name. This woman who cared for her and trusted her is dead essentially by her hand and she shrugs it off.

She also seems to get off on using other people’s pain as a joke. From mocking Jenn during the unbinding ritual, to being extremely callous to Wanda when watching her memories, to full on scaring the life out of Billy as a ghost, she loves making people upset. It’s entertaining to her.

As far as Rio goes, she is deeply in love with her. However, it is a selfish love (much like Villanelle in Killing Eve) where she doesn’t care about how she affects her. She rejects her the moment she feels betrayed. Why does she feel betrayed? Because Rio was unable to keep the universe at bay for longer than six years. Rio broke every rule she stood for knowing she would lose Agatha either way. Agatha weaponized her love the moment it was advantageous to her by promising that she would hate her forever if she did something that she couldn’t stop. It was also clear that Rio was the parent of their son as well. So, she disregarded Rio’s grief and laid the blame on the very person who gifted her with his existence. She only took Rio back when she came to her own conclusions about his death that it wasn’t anyone’s fault. We also saw the effect of her anger at Rio with how Rio essentially lost her mind over the centuries. Also, you cannot convince me the two didn’t see each other during the years between Nicky’s death and her obtaining the Darkhold. She references the Daughters of Liberty as a story Rio was there for. This would have been at least twenty five years later. She would have seen Rio’s decline (if not actively contribute to it with emotional abuse).

Now, I’m not saying Rio wasn’t toxic as well. She reveled in Agatha’s murderous tendencies and loved her in an intensely obsessive manner, having a sense of ownership over her (i.e. if I can’t have you, no one will). That is why the two are a perfect match in most ways.

All in all, Agatha is a textbook sociopath and I hope future movies and shows with her don’t try to redeem her or change that fact in any way.

Is Agatha Harkness a sociopath?

I wanted to make this post ever since I finished Agatha All Along, specifically after Agatha was referred to as a “sociopath” in the series. Now, “sociopath” is not an actual diagnosis and most of the time, what people refer to when it comes to sociopathy and psychopathy is actually anti-social personality disorder (ASPD). In this post, I’ll attempt to “diagnose” Agatha with ASPD and see if she fits the criteria for a diagnosis.

Disclaimer: I am not a professional, I’m only “diagnosing” Agatha because she’s a fictional character. Do not attempt to do the same for any real person. This post isn’t meant to stigmatize any real person with that condition, this is simply a character study. None of what I’m writing should be used in a real-life context. 

1) Failure to obey laws and norms by engaging in behavior which results in criminal arrest, or would warrant criminal arrest

Agatha is quite literally a serial killer. She has been luring witches to their early graves for centuries. We don't know exactly how many people she has killed, but her body count is definitely quite large. I don't think she was ever arrested for her crimes but it definitely warrants a criminal arrest. If it wasn't for Wanda trapping her in the Agnes persona at the end of WandaVision, she would have most likely been arrested, especially since she attempted to kill multiple S.W.O.R.D. soldiers. 

2) Deceitfulness, indicated by continuously lying, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain and pleasure.

This one is a given. Her primary means to steal magic was through a con. She deceived and manipulated unsuspecting witches who trusted her with the intent of stealing their magic and killing them. And even before that, she used her own son to lure witches and do the same. She does it primarily for profit, to get more magic, but she does seem to genuinely enjoy deceiving others and gaining pleasure out of it.

In both WV and AAA she was lying, deceiving and manipulating the rest of the cast from the very beginning for her own benefit. She infiltrated Wanda’s hex and posed as her nosy neighbour “Agnes”, graining Wanda's trust with the intent of stealing her magic from the start. She did it primarily for profit but there was also some enjoyment for her when she revealed the truth to Wanda, so much so that she created her own intro song. She was enjoying putting up a show almost as much as getting Wanda's magic.

This pattern of behaviors is seen throughout AAA too, especially upon rewatch. On your first watch, you might not notice but after rewatching a second time fully knowing the end, you can notice how much Agatha has been lying the entire time. Not only did she lie about the road and always intended to murder the cover in her basement, but when the hex road appeared she kept the lie that she went to the road before going. One could say that she had to keep the lie going because she never intended for the road to appear, so those weren’t lies she intended to tell, but at the same time, we can see how easily she can lie and deceive others. She knew all along that Billy created the road and that said road was deadly, yet made no attempt at stopping him. She knew people would die but she kept the lie going because she hoped that she could get back her powers at the end. So she lied, deceived and manipulated the group the entire time for her own gain.

3) Exhibiting impulsivity or failing to plan ahead.

Agatha is someone who likes to be in control, and does give off the illusion of being in control. But the truth is, she isn’t as much in control as she thinks she is, and is quite impulsive. Lots of her shortcomings are a direct consequence of an impulsive decision (fuck around and find out). Being impulsive doesn’t mean she can’t make elaborate schemes, because she sure does. But a lot of those are made impulsively. She sensed Wanda’s magic and decided to join her hex without knowing exactly how Wanda’s magic worked. She even started messing with her without knowing how Wanda’s magic would respond. Then in AAA we see more of her impulsive nature. She doesn’t think through whenever she makes a decision and ends up needing to improvise in order to compensate for her reckless decisions. She told Lilia about how her ability to steal magic worked, she picked a bound witch to be part of her coven, as well as a non-magical woman. The only one in the group that seemed to have the ability to blast was Alice. Not the greatest group if she needed to steal as much magic as possible. On the road, she made a lot of impulsive decisions that were quite reckless, like attempting to break the window and throwing her wine glass during the first trial, suggesting to summon another green witch, pretending to be possessed by Sharon, or messing with the tarot cards. There’s also the way she provoked Billy right after he nearly killed her. Those were all decisions she took without thinking about the consequences, out of impulsivity. But she’s not only impulsive when it comes to being reckless with others’ safety. She was also shown to be impulsive when it comes to helping some of her coven members. When Rio first emerged from Sharon’s grave, Agatha’s first instinct was to get in front of the coven as if she wanted to protect them. When Billy got thrown into the window, Agatha rushed to go check on him, or when Lilia was about to get impaled she jumped to push her out of the sword’s trajectory. 

4) Irritability and aggressiveness, indicated by repeatedly getting into fights or physically assaulting others.

Once again, this one is a given. Agatha is easily irritated and very aggressive, she’s quick to anger, losing her patience and snapping at people. She had no issue hurting Wanda when she had her captive in her basement, slamming her against the wall when she got irritated with her. I’d argue that the mass murdering she did over centuries also count as frequent assaults. She’s also quick to engage in physical fights with Rio (although those are mutual on both sides), and there was a moment at the end of episode 3 where Agatha randomly kicked Jen when she was already down after they all went through the water slide. 

5) Reckless behaviors that disregard the safety of others.

Agatha did not care how her actions affected the resident of Westview when she was purposefully messing around with the hex. She did not care either on the road. She knew from the beginning that it was a hex and even after seeing they could actually die in the trials, she made no attempt to try telling the others the road was fake. She could have tried to let Billy know he made the road but she didn’t. Because she didn’t care if some of them might die. She had no concern for their safety. She endangered the coven in the first trial by trying to break the window and by refusing to drink the wine. She did so too in the third trial by pretending to be possessed, making the group lose precious time. Same with the fourth trial by messing with the tarot cards and not stopping even when the swords were dangerous dropping on both her and Billy. 

6) A pattern of irresponsibility

This is probably the only criteria I’m not sure would apply. There are instances of Agatha being irresponsible, but I don’t think we have seen enough of her personal life to establish a pattern. So until further notice, I’ll consider this criteria doesn’t particularly fit. 

7) Lack of remorse after hurting or mistreating another person.

Agatha does not seem to have any remorse for all the people she murdered. She may have some remorse regarding her original coven, including her mother, but that was a much younger Agatha. The Agatha we know now does not seem to feel bad for the people she had killed for centuries. It’s even something she will be really flippant about whenever she talks about how many people she has killed.

She didn’t feel remorse when Sharon died either. Agatha might not have directly killed her, she is still responsible for her death by recruiting her into the coven. And it’s not like Agatha didn’t intend from the start to put Sharon in harm’s way. If her initial intention was to kill the coven, it’s very likely she would have killed Sharon too, or Sharon would have been killed by the Salem Seven. Billy may be indirectly responsible for Sharon’s death because he created the road, he was not aware of that nor did he intend for this to happen. Agatha on the other hand always intended for Sharon to die and did not feel bad when she actually did die. She acted extremely callous after Sharon’s death and never bothered to learn her name, even forgetting who she was later on.

And it’s not just about murder. She didn’t feel bad when she got Alice fired, nor did she feel bad when she learned she was the person who got Jen bound for a hundred years. She didn’t feel bad either about attempting to kill the coven from the beginning and had no qualms about using them to get to the end of the road even if it meant sacrificing them.

The coven’s members aren’t the only people who suffer because of Agatha’s actions. If we go back to WandaVision, Agatha orchestrated Sparky’s death. And she seemed pretty proud about causing a dog to die. It may have been revealed in AAA that Ralph poisoned the dog, but it was under Agatha’s order. He was under her magical control, so the blame is entirely on her. She did not feel bad at all for killing a dog. Speaking of Ralph, as much as his character is played for laughs, what she did to him was also pretty atrocious. She took control of his life, stole his house, and forced him to commit awful acts, causing psychological damage to him to the point he is completely paranoid now. It’s unlikely Agatha knows how Ralph ended up after what she did to him, I highly doubt she’d feel an ounce of remorse for that. 

Now, lack of remorse does not mean lack of regrets. Agatha does not feel bad for hurting others and how her actions affected them, but she does have regrets. She does feel bad if her actions negatively affect her, like personal loss or missed opportunity. She did seem to feel regret about killing Alice, but I don’t think she felt remorse. She did not feel bad for Alice, she felt bad because of the consequences she had to face after. She did not intend to kill Alice at that time, and now she has lost any potential trust she could gain from the coven. Not only that, we know Agatha became a ghost because she couldn’t face Nicky in the afterlife, so the regret might also be that she thought her son had seen her kill Alice. I don’t think she felt remorse for what she did to Jen either. When Jen did the unbinding ritual, getting told over and over that she “holds nothing” worked on Agatha possibly because deep down, Agatha knew it was true. She no longer has her son, she has no magic, and she has driven away Rio. She did hold nothing anymore. 

Having ASPD does not mean Agatha is incapable of love, or caring about others. She undoubtedly loved and cared about her son. So much so that she developed a soft spot for Billy because he reminded her of Nicky. She loved Rio too. Same for her pet rabbit. Unlike popular belief, lack of empathy is not a criteria for ASPD. It does usually result in low empathy, and that can vary from person to person. Agatha probably has little to no empathy for most people except the rare people she does manage to bond with. You can see it as a selective empathy for those she did love and care about, which included Nicky, Rio, Señor Scratchy and later possibly Billy.

If Agatha does have ASPD, how did it start? Even if sometimes genetics can play a role in developing that personality disorder, you aren’t born with it. Most of the time, it’s caused by the environment, mostly trauma experienced as a child. We know Agatha’s mother hated her. She thought she was born evil. She, with her coven, attempted to have her executed when Agatha was only 18. I do believe the accusations made at her were mostly true. She probably did steal knowledge and practiced dark magic. But Agatha did beg her coven to teach her, so I think it’s very likely that since her mother thought she was born evil, she didn’t allow Agatha to properly learn magic. If Agatha wasn’t taught magic and had this power she couldn’t control (siphoning), it’s not surprising that she would have to steal knowledge in order to learn. Agatha learned from a young age to break the rules in order to get what she wants or needs. And without proper guidance, it’s reasonable to think she might have practiced dark magic.

So yes, even if the accusations were true, her coven and mother are not blameless. Agatha is the way she is because of how she was raised, how she was treated as a child and growing up, and what she had to do in order to learn magic. She never had a healthy support system growing up, there was no possibility for therapy at that time, she was a witch living in the worst era for her kind, and she couldn’t even rely on her fellow witches to protect herself. After accidentally killing her original coven (including her own mother), which was definitely a traumatic event for her regardless if it was self-defence, she kept doing what she did so far to survive; steal, lie, deceive, kill. All the antisocial traits she exhibits as an adult are learned behaviours. Of course, it does not justify her crimes and horrific actions she later committed, but it does explain why she is that way. She wasn’t born evil, she became evil. She’s the product of her environment, experiences, circumstances and era.

[jocelynships]

I’m trying not to let my bad feelings take over rn but hoo boy I am. Really angry/upset/sad/whatever at everything right now

[the-bluestreak-cat]

My extremely personal red flag is if you’ve never lived independently.

Do not open tags it’s just a personal vent and I hit the tag limit (30) and that’s never happened to me before ajskdlf

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

���M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit]

“Hi I get my kids names mixed up and I’m not really sure how old either of them are and I *think* one of them has a nut allergy? Or it may be strawberries……or penicillin? Anyway, someone has an allergy to something, I’m sure it won’t matter. After school activities? I dunno, the missus usually brings them home around 5pm, that’s when school lets out, right? Oh, one of them is in band and the other does track? Oh….uh…..huh. They have meets and competitions? Oof….wait, one of them volunteers at the local daycare? And I have to pick them up and drop them off? And the other volunteers at the animal shelter on the weekends and needs me to drop them off and pick them up??? But that’s when I drink and watch sports!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO TAKE THEM TO THEIR DOCTORS APPOINTMENTS??? I didn’t even realize they HAD a doctor!!

But yes, I am perfectly qualified to raise my children wholly on my own and should be given all the custody.”

Men cannot complain about women getting custody most of the time while also thinking it's quirky to not know things like where their kid goes to school or what they're allergic to 😭🤚

[terrestrialnoob]

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.