#would just reflect my own taste more than anything else

[deliwrites]

𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 // Huntr/x

// DATE // 26th of June 2025 → 27th of June 2025 // PAIRING // FemHuntr/x!Reader x Baby Saja, Rumi x Jinu, Zoey x Mystery, Abby x Mira x Romance // WARNING // Fluff, suggestive, vulnerability, girlfriends being girlfriends // WORDS // 2.8k+ // SUMMARY // Bonus chapter to Revenge, where Huntr/x finally go to the bath house together! If you have not read Revenge, you should or else this won't make much sense xD

// Main Story // Bonus Chapters //

It was weird being back in Huntr/x tower. I mean permanently. Somehow the public didn’t remember anything of what happened at Namsan tower. The last thing they remember was the public fall out of Huntr/x.

Thankfully that was easily covered up. It became a story of how this was all for show. Me ‘leaving’, them fighting. A publicity stunt to show growth and accepting peoples differences.

This story solidified when we released the song ‘what it sounds like’. People wanted not to like it, but so far it’s been our best selling song. Going Platinum within 12 hours.

We had just come back home from our first comeback performance.

“Food, food, food!” I chant once the front door opened. Mira happily joining me as we skip to the kitchen. The stack of empty ramyeon long gone. Opening the snack drawer, I squeal when I find a new bag of strawberry KitKats. “Yesss.”

“Honest, I don’t know how you eat those,” Rumi says, walking behind me to the fridge.

“Well you just don’t know what heaven tastes like,” I stick my tongue out at her while she smirks playfully. Grabbing a soda, she tosses it at me which I barely manage to catch. Taking three more before closing the fridge. “What so you throw mine, but you’ll be nice to Mira and Zoey?” I ask in mock offense to which she nods with a wide grin.

Walking to Mira she hands her a soda. Mira takes it mumbling a thanks while she continues to stack more snacks into her arms.

“Don’t worry Y/n,” Zoey comes up to me. “I love them just as much as you,” holding up her own bag of the same KitKats. She turns to Rumi, sticking her tongue out at her even more aggressively than I had. A giggle leaving my lips.

Flopping onto the fluffy couch in my bathrobe, I sigh with delight.

“It’s so nice to just sit,” my words dragged out through a contented groan.

“Ah, yeeaaah,” Rumi agrees, sitting down beside me. Leaning against me gently. Leaning my head against hers, we close our eyes, just enjoying the moment of closeness.

Missing the way Zoey and Mira smirk at each other as they too, sit down on couch.

“You know what's an even better place to relax?” Mira ask, my eyes pop open, I meet Mira’s gaze. Content smiles faltering, dreading what the answer will be. Her eyes flick to Zoey, causing me to do the same.

“The bath house!” Zoey announces overjoyed. My head turns just enough for me to look at Rumi. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch both Zoey and Mira sat on the edge of the couch. Looking at us, their eyes shimmering, barely containing their hope and excitement.

Rumi and I had never been. Ever. We were never allowed. I didn’t dare even if I were to go solo.

“I-”

“Rumi, you promised!” Zoey pouts, pointing a finger at her accusingly.

“When did you promise that!?” my confusion loud as I fully pull away to look at my sister. She grimaces awkwardly.

“Of course you had to remember that,” she whines, think it over for a second before sighing in defeat. “I said I would go the day before the International Idol Awards.”

“Ah,” I say and shrug, a smug tugging at my lips. “Well, I didn’t, so-”

“No, you gotta give it a try!” Mira cuts me off, giving me a pointed look.

Taking a deep breath, I sag my shoulders before giving in. “Ugh, fine.”

“Yes!” Zoey fist pumps the air.

Now that the Saja Boys had their own phones. I had called Baby in a panic. With him I never had to think about it. But going to a bath house.

Well shit.

“But- but-,” I started stutter, pacing my room. Eyes scanning my reflection in the windows. “What if- what if they stare?” my voice barely a whisper.

“Darling,” the voice sounded so close. Looking down at my phone the call is still going. What.

I don’t have time to turn around before hands smoothly circle my waist. Baby leaning over my shoulder, biting my mark playfully. “Want me to show you just how gorgeous you are? Hmm?” his voice is sinfully deep. My eyes meet his, he’s devouring me already, with just his gaze. A delightful shiver runs down my spine, nodding.

Walking into the establishment I stayed behind them. Still feeling unsure about it all. Eucalyptus hung in the air. The warmth in just the front room would normally comfort me. But now it only made me more nervous. Rumi seemed a lot more confident about all this. I hoped it her confidence in all this would help, but it didn’t.

Zoey spoke to the woman at the front desk but I didn’t pay much attention. My eyes flicking around the room. The windows are covered in a frosted window film, allowing in just enough natural light to make the white tile floor glow. Like they led straight to heaven.

Instead they lead to my nightmare.

Mentally shaking my head, I focus on something else. The wall to my right has vertical wooden slabs as an accent. Holding white horizontal shelves. The shelves neatly stocked with spa products. Lotions, scrubs and soaps.

“Would you like to add any services today?” the woman asks while Zoey grabs my attention. Placing a bracelet around my wrist which holds a key.

“Not right now, thank you,” Zoey answers politely.

“Alright, the baths and changing rooms are through that door,” she points to our right at a modern dark stained wooden door with a black frame. “Enjoy your stay. If you need anything, press the service bell in any of the rooms or come back to the desk.”

“Gamsahamnida,” with that, Mira and Zoey pull Rumi and me to the door. My heart hammers in my chest. Entering the locker room, there are a couple of other woman there. All seem to be nearly ready to enter the baths. I evade their gaze and focus on finding my locker.

Sipsam

Discomfort rolls over my shoulders. Of course it has to be unlucky number 13. Reluctantly, I open the locker. There’s nothing odd about it, but it doesn’t stop another shiver from running down my spine.

I just stare at the empty locker for a moment, trying to slow down my racing heart.

“Hey, you okay,” Rumi appears beside me, worry lacing her voice. I nod with fake certainty, slipping my jacket off and hanging it on the hook on inside of the locker door. She returns to her own locker and continues undressing.

My eyes locate Zoey who is undressing herself with a sway in her hips like she’s listening to music. Mira on the other hand is struggling with unlacing her boots. The other women don’t seem to be here anymore which allows me to take a breath of relief.

“I can do this,” I mutter quietly to myself, nodding like the motion alone will hold me together. Toeing off my sneakers, I take a seat on the wooden bench behind me. Taking my socks off I stuff them in my shoes before I place them inside the locker.

Finding the hem of my shirt, I pause. I wore Baby’s shirt, it was big hiding my frame underneath. He almost didn’t let me keep it last night. But in the end he did cause he knew it gave me comfort even if it only could up to this point.

Letting go of the hem, I opt for taking off my jeans first. Folding it neatly, taking my time. My eyes land on my patterns. While I luckily wasn’t entire iridescent anymore. Hadn’t since like 3 days after they had taken me and Baby home. The patterns were still there, darker than Rumi’s. They didn’t necessarily make me feel ugly. They just made it seem more like scars. And in some lighting Rumi’s were nearly invisible. Mine felt always on display, even if tried to hide them by wearing long jeans and turtle necks. They always peak out somewhere.

“You nearly ready, Y/n/n,” Zoey asks, startling me.

“Yeah, just go ahead.”

“You sure? We can wait, you know?” Mira’s voice laces with concern.

“Yes, I’m sure, I’ll be right there.”

“Alright, just come find us,” Zoey says. “We’ll be at the baths in room Sam,” soon after the door closes after them and I take a deep breath.

“Come on, Y/n,” I scold myself. Practically ripping Baby’s shirt off of me. I hold it in front of me like it did me dirty. My gaze softens, bringing it to my chest I take a big whiff. Nodding I fold the shirt, placing it on top of my jeans. Then placing the stack on the shelf inside the locker.

Getting up from the bench, I take my panties and bra off quicker than I ever have. Stuffing the items in the locker, I close it.

“Gaja,” I tell myself. My heart doesn’t slow but I go ahead anyway. I keep my eyes focused on head height. My gaze never lowering as I leave the locker room.

I can hear soft murmurs of people conversing with each other as I walk through the hall. The steam engulfing me in warmth. I’m thankful that the numbers are placed at head height. Mumbling the numbers as I pass by them. When I reach room 3, it doesn’t open at first, which confuses me.

“What? But they said room 3,” I mutter, trying again. Panic starts to rise. The murmurs from before feeling like they grow louder. Closing in. I look around me frantically but don’t take anything in. Trying the door again, this time with both hands but it still doesn’t open.

“Y/n?” I jump at the voice, letting go of the door to cover myself up with my hands. “Hey, hey,” the voice is gentle, a hand carefully being placed on my shoulder. Finally realizing it’s Rumi. She doesn’t say anything else, just holds her key in front of a sensor and the door clicks open with a happy chime. Gently, she ushers me into the room, closing the door behind us.

If Zoey and Mira heard the way I came in, they don’t mention it. Not that my eyes focus enough to even realize where they are. Rumi takes me to the showers and tells me to sit down.

It takes a while of Rumi using the shower head to rinse me down for me to actually calm down enough and notice my surroundings.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, staring down at the tile flooring. The tension in my shoulders doesn’t let up and I keep myself small.

“Hey, don’t apologize,” Rumi sit down on the stool next to me. Facing me. “I get it,” my eyes meet hers, searching for that connection.

“I just-“ she shakes her head cutting me off.

“It’s okay, it’s just the four of us in here,” that relaxes me a lot. Zoey had booked us a private room. “Here, I got a new scrub, that’s why I was out in the hall,” she answers a question I was curious about but hadn’t asked. Sitting up straight the two of us take our time, scrubbing down.

“Thank you,” I mumble, squeezing her hand as we get up and walk behind a tiled wall where the bath is located. She just squeezes my hand right back in reassurance.

“There you’re,” Mira says without opening her eyes.

“Sor-“ Rumi pinches my arm to stop me from apologizing again. She gets into the hot water, sinking in to just below our shoulders.

“Ah! Wow, this feels amazing,” a content sigh leaving Rumi’s lips. And I can’t lie, just dipping in my toes has me physically relax.

“We’ve been saying that for years,” Mira drags, smirk playing on her lips.

“Right? See what you’ve been missing?” Zoey's eyes open half lidded. Meeting mine as I still lower myself down, closing my eyes at the warmth. “I didn’t know you were this kinky, Y/n,” her tease causing my eyes to snap right back open. All three of them wearing a smirk. Mira's eyes go from my face to my left shoulder. Following her line of sight, my eyes land on a very dark hickey. Memories of last night flash through my head. I can still feel Baby’s lips all over my body, with watchful sultry eyes. Taking in my body like I was his most prized possession. Complimenting me with every peck, every bite and every hickey.

Making me instantly aware of all the marks scattered across my skin. Covering my chest as best I can with my hands - not that it helped. If anything it showed even more marks. Sinking even lower into the water. A blush covering my cheeks. Guess I should have been more worried about those than my patterns.

“I was nervous-“

“No shit,” Mira cuts me off playfully. I stick my tongue out at her.

“So,” I puff up my shoulders in confidence. “Baby showed me I shouldn’t be ashamed and that I’m gorgeous,” I confess though the blush quickly returns.

“Possessive and sweet? Ugh, disgusting. I love it!” Zoey sighs like she’s thinking of her own relationship with Mystery. And apparently I can read minds now. “Mystery is surprisingly gentle. I bet you get best of both worlds, Mira.”

She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and I blink. When I glance at Rumi, she’s already looking at me - eyebrows raised, same quiet shock mirrored in her expression.

“You could say that,” what is happening? We never talked about this stuff! I guess we had always been too focused on hunting demons to ever consider being in a relationship. “Romance is the possessive one out of the two. Abby is gentle but won’t hesitate to put me in positions I never thought possible,” Mira doesn’t open her eyes, just keeps talking. “So yes, I do get best of both worlds,” a smirk on her lips.

“Question,” Zoey sits up straight. “Is it weird that my mating mark is on the back of my neck? I mean, you guys have yours a lot more visible,” she points at me and Rumi.

“Could be due to the position you guys were in when you two mated,” Rumi shrugs casually. “Mine wasn’t, but Jinu said he wanted it there. He places a kiss there, at least once a day. Multiple if we didn’t see each other for a while,” her fingers gently glide over the holographic bitemark. Located just below her left ear.

“That’s adorable,” Mira sits up, leaning towards me, raising her left hip just out of the water. “This one’s Abby, and Romance has an identical one on my right hip,” she says before relaxing again. “They had apparently had a heated discussion about it the day before. Abby wanted it to be modest and Romance wanted it to be on show. And settled for this cause they can just pinch my hips whenever they wanna tease me.”

“I never asked actually,” I admit, my fingers subconsciously brushing the spot on my right side, where his mark sits - nestled at the curve of my neck and shoulder.

“You tend to touch it a lot,” Rumi points out. “Maybe he did it for you?”

“That would be so sweet,” Zoey adds. “Does it bring you comfort when you touch it?”

“It does,” a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Though I know he likes it too. He tends to bite it, usually as ‘punishment’. But I’ll ask, cause now I wanna know for sure.”

“Same,” the words drag as Zoey finally relaxes again eyes closing. The room going silent. All of us relaxing like we very much deserved. The only sound our collective breathing. Slow and steady.

“Y/n, I’m so happy you didn’t, like, die,” Zoey’s voice is sudden. Almost startling.

“Wow, Zoey, way to be super literal,” Mira responds monotone. “But same,” a grin tugging at her lips.

“No, we’re not doing that,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I’m not-” I can’t continue because Zoey’s eyes are glassy. Mira’s biting her cheek like she’s holding herself together by habit. And Rumi… Rumi’s already crying.

“I just… you guys just mean so much to me, and I don’t really know what I’d do without you,” Zoey’s voice cracks, thick with emotions she can’t hold back anymore. The tears come fast, and once they start, there’s no stopping them.

It turns into a messy, breathless ramble — the four of us spilling over each other, saying how much we love each other, how scared we were. I tell them how terrified I was.

Both times.

Until there’s nothing left to say. Just the sound of soft crying, of water shifting as we lean into each other, letting it all fall out. For a moment, we don’t have to be strong. We just have to be together.

// Main Story // Bonus Chapters //

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER SIXTEEN: maybe a phase?

masterlist

“Didn’t expect this many people to show up,” Megumi mumbled to the pink-haired boy beside him.

“I like it! It’s like our very own cult!” Yuji exclaimed; his eyes sparkling as he licked his lips in anticipation.

The raven rolled his eyes at the remark. He wasn’t wrong though. With the turnout of the event, you could start a small religion. 

Fans gathered in eager clusters; their faces lit with anticipation as they waited for their moment with the band. Laughter echoed around him, a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. Megumi felt like a marionette, expertly performing his role while his heart remained tethered to unspoken thoughts.

“Megumi, can you finish the heart?” 

He suppresses a mental groan at yet another familiar request, but he obliges, nonetheless. 

That definitely must have been the hundredth one. With a practised smile, he lifts his hand, expertly completing the heart shape as the girl beams through the screen. The phone obscures her face, leaving him with only a sense of her enthusiasm.

Around him, the atmosphere of the fan meet-and-greet buzzes with energy. His bandmates are in their element, laughing and joking with fans, their easy conviviality filling the air with warmth. They engage with their admirers, sharing stories and creating moments that spark joy, their carefree spirits a stark contrast to his mood - enjoying themselves. 

Having fun.

As he stands there, a twinge of envy bubbles beneath the surface. Here he is, moping over a girl who seems not to want anything to do with him. Well, anything but his dick. While everyone else is immersed in genuine interaction, he can’t shake the feeling of being sidelined and lost in his thoughts while the world around him pulses with life and laughter.

why would i care?

His heart panging as he replayed the text message he had received days ago, each word lingering like a haunting refrain. Was it wrong to feel this way? To sense that everything he had shared was merely a facade, a carefully crafted performance for someone who never truly saw him. 

He couldn’t shake the unsettling realization that he felt like nothing more than a fleeting moment in her life—a one-night stand disguised as something deeper. The weight of this realization pressed down on him, an oppressive reminder that his emotions felt tossed aside as if he were just an afterthought in a narrative that didn’t include him. 

The feeling of being used gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Every time he revisited that moment, a tight knot formed in his stomach, an ache that echoed his longing for something genuine. He craved a connection that resonated beyond the surface and spoke to his heart and soul rather than just his body. As the days passed, that yearning only deepened, leaving him in a cycle of doubt and self-reflection, questioning what it truly meant to be seen and valued.

Whatever. Fuck Yn. She can go fuck herself. I don’t fucking need her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck-

“Oh my god! I’m such a huge fan!” The enthusiastic voice sliced through his thoughts, yanking him back to the chaotic reality of the event.

He quickly summoned his best faux smile, a mask he had perfected through countless encounters.

“Hey! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” he replied, glancing down at the array of items sliding his way to autograph—each one a reminder of the crushing expectations he felt.

The fan leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I just have one question for you.”

“Shoot,” he said, keeping his voice steady, though a flicker of tension danced beneath the surface.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He chuckled at the unexpected question, shaking his head. “I do not.”

“Then who’s that girl you’re always with?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” he said, trying to keep his composure as he continues signing.

“Yes, you do!” she insisted, her voice rising with excitement as she grips the edge of the table.

As she continued to speculate about this so-called girlfriend, Megumi felt something inside him unravel. Maybe it was the sting of her silence in their last conversation, the way she had left him on read, leaving him feeling a little shattered. Or perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion of the endless meet-and-greet, where each interaction felt like a rehearsed line in a play he no longer wished to perform. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the air thick with unspoken feelings and unresolved questions.

Something snapped.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just some random bitch who sluts herself out and calls it fun.”

The words escaped him before he could rein them in.

A heavy silence settles between them; the fan was stunned into stillness by his choice of words — and profanity. His eyes dropped to the phone in her hands, and dread washed over him as he realises she was recording.

Fuck.

backstage!

• hey siri play she’s just a phase by puma blue

• cue the megumi fumble arc

• megumi crash out video: 2 minutes long

• poor gojo had a heart attack when he got that pop bae notification (he hates dealing with the press)

• he put on notifs ever since they posted a pic of him and suguru walking out of a hotel together hand in hand LMFAO

• yn was standing in one spot just furiously tapping at her phone and panda asked if she was playing fruit ninja

• he got sent to his room after that

• nobara saw the video first (mainly bc she was on twitter at the time. who’s surprised?)

• told yn to brace herself and showed her it

• yn made 7 hate accounts during the uber to sukuna’s

• that girl mad as hell😂😂🤣🤦‍♀️

• i hope they don’t hook up!!

• side eye dog meme

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[minus-plus-zer0]

Drawing on His Face

Bakugou just looked too cute while he slept. 

You didn’t understand how he could be so handsome even while unconscious. He retained his adorable little scowl, like something managed to piss him off even as he napped. 

Bakugou should’ve known better than to sleep while you were around. He should’ve known better than to give you the key to his dorm. And he should’ve known better than to trust you wholeheartedly. Silly Bakugou. Silly, silly Bakugou. 

You uncapped your permanent marker with a cheeky grin. This would be the perfect payback for when Bakugou squished your face in public yesterday. You then lowered your marker onto his soft cheek, doodling god knows what without remorse. Nothing obscene, of course. But by the end his face was covered in your handiwork. 

You were putting the finishing touches when he finally woke up. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Bakugou grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you over, pinning you down by sitting on your stomach. 

“What were you doing?!” Bakugou snapped.

“Nothing!” you lied, trying to break free from under him. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

Bakugou spotted the marker that you dropped on his bed, right out of your reach. He snatched it before you could do anything else. 

Bakugou held the marker away from you as he grabbed his phone to check his face. His phone camera clearly reflected the damage you dealt to him. He put the phone away, a dark look shadowing over his face.

“Um… I’m sorry?” You raised a shaky smile.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Bakugou muttered. 

Bakugou drew forth the permanent marker, a feral grin now emerging. 

You squealed as you tried to push him off but Bakugou fought through your frantic hands and scribbled all over your face, grumbling all the while. When he finished, Bakugou capped the marker and threw it across the room. Now neither of you could doodle anything anymore. You whined in frustration, annoyed that your face was totally ruined by his latest flash of creativity. 

Bakugou inspected his penmanship. He cupped your jaw with one hand, his eyes relaxing as he gazed down upon your messy face.

“You look good,” he said, softly.

“You scribbled all over me!”

Bakugou scoffed. “You did it first!”

“Because you’re always teasing me! Why can’t I tease you right back?”

“You should’ve been more careful if you didn’t want to get caught!”

You knew he had a point, but you wouldn’t admit it. 

While still sitting on your stomach, Bakugou leaned down to hug your adorably angry self, squeezing the life out of your lungs. 

“Ya shouldn’t have woken me up,” Bakugou said, snuggling into you. “I’ve got you now… This is what you get for messing with me.”

You giggled as his face tickled your neck. “You’re sooooo annoying!”

“Am not!” Bakugou growled, digging his face further into you. 

Finally, Bakugou lifted his head and a look of surprise dawned on him. The markings on his face were smudged. He reached out to touch your neck and his fingers returned marked black. ”Crap…”

His new facial markings had smeared against your neck. Another annoyed look spread across your cute face.

“Oh no…”

“WELL IT’S NOT MY FAULT! THAT’S WHY YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DRAWN ON ME! NOW WE CAN’T CUDDLE! THANKS A LOT!” Bakugou sighed. “…Tch, you know what? I think I’ll cuddle you anyways.”

Bakugou angrily kissed your forehead, smudging some of his markings against yours. Blushing hard, Bakugou spat out a “Bleh!” and wiped his mouth. 

“Tastes funny,” he said, eyeing your flustered face with a giddy look of his own. He dove back in to nuzzle your neck and to plant kiss after kiss.

To ensure that you never played that prank again, Bakugou insisted that you two sleep together from now on in the same bed. After all, you couldn’t sneak off to get a permanent marker if he locked you in his arms for the night. He needed to make sure you stayed put.

At the very least, you didn’t mind this idea.

[all444glo]

ˏˋ⋆ 𝑴★𝒈𝒊𝒄 ⋆ˊˎ-

warnings: this is my first fic, heavily mature!, mentions of stripping, drug use, alcohol use yadda yadda yadda.

summary: It’s Jude’s 21st birthday and he couldn’t be any more happier, he’s on vacation in the black city of sin. His american friends wanted him to get a taste of what atlanta girls were like. as soon he walks in he’s in euphoria.

Jude was nervous, though he tried not to show it. American club culture was a mystery to him, and Atlanta’s scene? Completely uncharted territory. It wasn’t his usual crowd, no where near it, but it was his twenty-first birthday, and he felt like he owed himself a change of pace. The UK clubs he knew had grown stale, he needed something new. he figured why not disappear into a space where no one would notice him.

“Gang, I’m telling you, this is gonna blow your mind,” his friend said, grinning as they headed to his favorite spot. Jude laughed quietly, turning the name over in his head: ‘Magic City’ The words conjured an image of some surreal palace, complete with wizard-themed strippers and glowing wands.

But as the car turned onto the street and the neon lights spilled across his face, he realized he’d imagined entirely wrong. Magic, indeed—but not the kind he was prepared for.

They pulled up to a small, run-down spot—a real hole in the wall. The parking lot reeked of dark liquor, weed, tobacco, and shame. This was way out of Jude’s element. He’d seen some shady pubs back home, but this? This was a whole different ball game. “What is this, man?” Jude asked, laughing nervously as his eyes darted around, head on a swivel. His friend just grinned, leaning against the car like he’d seen this a hundred times. “Nigga This? This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, that’s what it is.”

Before Jude could say anything, his friend slapped a fat wad of cash in his hand—bills crumpled and messy, ranging from ones to hundreds. “Now quit tweaking’ and come on,” his friend said with a wide grin. “Enjoy your 21st, nigga!”

Jude was having the absolute time of his life, he felt completely detached from his body. He was off of several rounds of shots and numerous puffs of weed, alcohol and weed hitting much differently in the US than at home. his hand was soon grabbed by a dancer, her skin glowing in the multi colored lights. “you’re beautiful” he mumbled, his eyes red and low. his friend was heard cackling in the distance, “have fun!” he shouted waving the two off.

Jude was on cloud nine, completely lost in the moment. He felt like he wasn’t even in his own body anymore. The shots kept coming, the weed too, and it hit different here in the US—stronger, sharper, like everything was amplified. His senses were spinning, the music vibrating through his bones. Then, a dancer reached out, her skin glowing under the kaleidoscope of lights. Without thinking, he mumbled, “You’re beautiful,” his voice slurring, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

His friend’s laughter echoed from a distance, barely audible over the chaos. “Have fun!” he called out, waving them off with a wild grin. the girl was beautiful, her gold bikini reflected and highlighted her brown complexion. she was completely intoxicating to say the least, making Jude feel like he was even farther out his body. “Thank you, honey,” she said with a soft country drawl. Jude couldn’t help but smile; there was something about it that made her even more captivating.

She took his hand and led him into a room. The lights were bathed in red, and a disco ball spun above, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the walls, making everything feel surreal. Jude felt the pulse of the music deep in his chest, the atmosphere thick with heat and energy. The room seemed to spin with him, the lights blurring together as he followed her, captivated by her every move.

She moved with grace, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him, and it only made everything feel more intense. Jude could barely focus on anything else, lost in the rhythm of the moment, not sure where he ended and the dream began.

“Damn,” he mumbled, cupping her ass, his gaze fixed on her as if he was studying something he couldn’t quite believe was real. She was perfect in his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t believe he had her—at least for now.

Music filled the air, a steady rhythm setting the scene as she began her routine, grinding against him with a slow, teasing motion, drawing him in with every movement. Jude fought to keep his hands to himself, but couldn’t help slipping a few hundreds into the waistband of her thong, silently showing his appreciation for the moment.

“What’s your name, love?” he mumbled, trying to keep his composure, though it was harder with each passing second “Euphoria,” she whispered in his ear, her voice dripping with seduction. She traced the top of his ear with her tongue, sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine. “You like when I dance for you, baby?” she teased, settling onto his lap, her body pressing against him. Jude could barely think, his mind clouded as he nodded, his face flushed with heat. “You could be a model, fuck the strip club,” he muttered, his hands instinctively moving to her sides, groping at her waist. Her breathing slowed, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as the intensity between them grew.

“Why do you even work here?” Jude asked, his hand lightly grazing her butt as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Gotta get through school somehow,” she snickered, glancing up at him. “I know you don’t really care though.”

Jude immediately furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s not me. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met, I have to care.” Euphoria laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Wow, you English men really are charming, huh?” It was clear that Euphoria found him attractive too, the men who typically came through were the usual Atlanta crowd. She hated her job, but if she had to do it, at least she could enjoy a bit of variety. And Jude? He was all the variety she needed. Handsome, kind, and foreign—he stood out in a way no one else did.

She welcomed the nervousness in his voice, the way he seemed a little unsure. It felt like talking to a friend, like they could connect in a way she didn’t often experience, even in the midst of her nearly naked state. Everything felt natural with him, easy, like they’d known each other far longer than they had.

“you’re sweet” she said blushing and getting up “but your dance is up sweetheart”

“that felt way too short, i need to see you again— and in the daylight”

“baby none of your american friends told you about my kind? its bad luck to wife a stripper”

“you’re more than a stripper, you’re euphoria”

[chimckenns]

Cooking was something that was important to David. It was something he only did with people he considered family, and family usually just meant Gabe. It was one of the only times where they could truly be father and son, not having to worry about the pack and their positions as alpha and beta. David always looked back at their cooking fondly, remembering the way Gabe would find ways to bring laughter to David’s face. They’d talk while their hands move, recounting the days events and reflecting on other things that have happened. It’s a precious time for David.

Then Gabe died, only leaving behind his usual recipes which David kept safe and protected in plastic sleeves.

After that, David only ever cooked alone. As much as he wanted company, it felt wrong to have someone else in the kitchen. No one will ever understand him the same way Gabe did, and no one will ever be able to move in sync as perfect as him. David knew when Gabe wanted the spices. He knew when Gabe was about to reach for a certain bowl. He knew exactly which spoon he liked to use the most. Similarly, Gabe knew exactly how David liked his potatoes. He knew the exact cook on steak that David liked. And he knew that David preferred eating with the bowl that was slightly deeper than the others they had at home.

Even when he lived with Asher, David was the sole cook. It didn’t help that Asher would burn everything he touched, so it was more of a necessity than anything. He never touched his dad’s recipes after he passed, afraid that if he got the flavours wrong it would forever ruin his memory of the dish and thus his memory of his father.

But then he met Angel. He couldn’t quite understand, but he felt his walls fall down so naturally around them. He wanted them to know more about him in the hopes that they might accept him as who he was, although he was hesitant about it. On their first Valentine’s Day together, he decided that it was a day important enough to try share a little more about himself.

So he stood in the kitchen and wiped off the dust that collected on Gabe’s recipes. He chose one that he always loved and knew he would get right. Chilli. Gabe’s own original version.

Angel sat nearby, drying off their hair that had gotten drenched from the rain. Once the smell of spices and aromatics filled the room, they followed the scent towards David. They wrapped their arms around his waist, head peering from behind his broad back, and stood in awe at the magic that David was making on the stove.

“What’s this?”

David felt a lump in his throat.

“It’s chilli. My dad’s recipe. Anyway…”

He didn’t want to dwell too much on it. The smell already brought back so many memories. On one hand he was happy he got the recipe right (Gabe never wrote precise measurements, as his notes were more just for him to remember what ingredients were in the recipe), but on the other hand his heart stung from the memories flooding back, memories that he had pushed aside while he drowned in grief.

Maybe this was a mistake.

David turned away and wiped his eyes when Angel wasn’t watching.

Once the chilli was done, he filled up his and Angel’s bowls and brought them to the table. Angel’s eyes sparkled, utensils ready in hand, and thanked David with a beaming smile. David waved it off with a casual grunt, but he was trying hard not to show the happiness bubbling up inside.

Angel loved it. They said it tasted homey and warm. David held their hand, giving it a squeeze to show his appreciation for their praise, but also to silently show them how much more it meant to him, even if they wouldn’t truly understand it yet.

A few weeks later, he did something he never thought he’d do. He invited them to his kitchen to cook with him. His heart pounded, worried that something could go wrong. A guilty part of him didn’t want this cooking experience with Angel to override his memory of cooking with Gabe, but a bigger part of him patted him on the back and said it would be worth it. That Angel deserved it. That David deserved to have good new memories too.

David taught them how to cook pasta. Angel was clumsy, not really knowing some simple skills and the right way to season things. But they made it… fun. For the first time since Gabe died, David laughed in the kitchen. He had fun. And it felt good. It felt right again.

He pulled Angel toward him by the hand and kissed them, arm around their waist and lips pressing against theirs soft and sweet. He hoped that would be enough to convey how much he appreciated them. To let them know how much they changed his life for the better.

Maybe one day he’ll work up the courage to say it with his words.

[7ndipity]

Their Ideal Types

Ot7

Summary: What I believe the members ideal types would be.

Warnings: Swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Please bear in mind tho that these are just my personal opinions, based on what I’ve observed from their personalities and with some references to their astrology charts(if you’re not into that, just ignore those points on each list)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

His Capricorn venus means that he’s a little old fashioned in his style of romance, which I think reflects in his statements in the past about being a classic hopeless romantic. He wants someone who he can sweep off their feet and eventually settle down with.

I don’t think he has a huge preference on age, I feel like he’d kinda want either a little older/younger rather than the same age tho.

He’s said once that he wanted someone a little on the chubby side(granted, this was years ago, so I don’t know if that’s still true), he also strikes me as someone who would be drawn more to the classic ‘girly’ vibe(pastel colors, flowy layers, fluffy sweaters, etc) but I think the main vibe he’d look for in a partner is comfort. I don’t quite know how else to describe it other than ‘Ghibli vibes’ if that makes sense?

He would want someone with a classy/graceful air, who’s confident in themselves and not afraid to take the lead sometimes and stand up for themselves.

Someone mature, but not too serious, with a good sense of humor and who’s not afraid to be silly sometimes. Someone affectionate, but not overly clingy.

Someone patient and understanding, who makes it easy for him to open up and be vulnerable.

Yoongi:

Pisces are already very deep feeling signs, but coupled with his Venus in Aries, Yoongi can sometimes come off rather intense in regards to relationships. He’s very matter of fact about his feelings sometimes, and I think he wants someone who can match his frankness. He doesn’t have patience for mind games, if you’re into him, fucking say it.

He’s said before that he doesn’t really have a type, at least when it comes to physical appearances or styles. Imo tho, I feel like he would be into someone with a casual, more tomboyish style(oversized hoodies/sweaters, layered shirts, sneakers, shorter hair)

Doesn’t really have a preference on age either.

He’s said before that he wanted someone similar to himself, with a deep passion for music and creating. Obviously, that doesn’t mean you have to be a professional artist/musician(I actually think he would prefer someone outside the industry, or at least outside the Idol/Kpop sphere), but he definitely needs someone who’s a fellow creative type who can understand that side of him.

Someone patient and warm, with an infectious energy that can help bring his mood up(kinda like Hobi), with a sharp sense of humor like his own.

I think he would like someone who’s somewhat independent, who knows what they want and isn’t willing to take shit from anyone.

Hobi:

His Pisces Venus means he’s very go with the flow when it comes to relationships, so he would want something very relaxed, without any chase or mind games, or anything too rushed either. He wants someone he can just ‘be’ with.

I think he’d prefer someone slightly younger, not significantly tho, just a couple years or so.

I think he’d be into someone ‘cute’, though maybe not necessarily in fashion sense, moreso just their general energy. Style-wise, I think he’d like someone who similar taste as him, more streetwear type clothes.

Someone bright and easygoing, who’s equally happy with going out or staying at home and doing nothing. Someone energetic, who not afraid to be silly at times.

Someone very sweet, kind and gracious(lowkey think he would be into the “mom friend” personality)

He’s said before he wanted to feel cherished in a relationship, so I think he would want someone he can take care of, big fan of skinship(bordering on a little clingy). Someone who makes him feel needed/wanted, who dotes on him over little things.

Namjoon:

Namjoon is like a textbook Virgo, very grounded and practical. However, his Venus in Scorpio means he’s quite intense emotionally and sexually, so he would want a partner that can balance or match his intensity.

I think he would prefer someone his age or slightly younger.

I remember Jk saying once that Joon was into the ‘cute but sexy’ vibe, and I think that’s still true to an extent, he finds people with range very attractive. I don’t know that he really has a preferred style, maybe something more simplistic like his?

He would definitely like someone confident and independent, who can hold their own in a conversation or argument, but still polite and open minded. Someone that can challenge him and his own perceptions.

Someone intelligent, career/goal driven, and creatively minded, someone who he can go to museums/art exhibits with.

I think he would also really like someone who’s into fitness and working out like he is(lowkey loves the idea of gym dates), but it’s not a necessity for him.

Jimin:

He’s a classic Libra to his core(which I love abt him but it also drives me crazy). As much as he loves to tease, he doesn’t have the patience for too much chase or playing hard to get. He wants someone who’ll be honest about their feelings.

I think he would want someone close to his age, a little older/younger doesn’t make much difference to him.

He said before that he tends to prefer cuter appearance/vibes, but with his Venus in Scorpio, I think he would be drawn to someone with a bit of a darker, sensual contrast in their personality or looks, kinda like him.

He’s a hopeless romantic,(his favorite movies are the Notebook and Like Crazy, he’s a major softie) wants someone he can fall with and yeah, be a bit melodramatic with.

Someone warm, but slightly introverted, maybe even a little shy. Someone kind, open minded, and patient, but willing to stand up and speak their mind when they need to.

Someone who makes him feel needed(another Libra trait) Someone who can keep up with, or even match, his flirty nature.

Taehyung:

As an Aquarius Venus, he tends to be drawn towards people with unique, unconventional beauty/style. He wants someone who’s not afraid to go against the norm to be themselves(tho he would love it if you have similar love for vintage aesthetic like him)

Idk why, but he gives me “When Harry met Sally” vibes. Like, despite his fascination with romanticism as an aesthetic, I think he really prefers to go the friends to lovers route. He wants someone he feels comfortable with first and foremost. He falls slowly and then all at once.

I don’t think he has much preference on age, but he’d probably like someone his age or maybe slightly older.

I think he’d kinda be into the “mom friend” personality. I’ve said it before, he really likes being taken care of, even if it’s just in little ways like fixing his hair or buttoning his coat before he leaves in the morning.

Someone slightly more extroverted, who makes friends easily, likes kids and animals.

Someone sensitive and mature, but who he can still be goofy and random with, who’ll play along with his skits and tangents(like jimin does)

Jungkook:

Although he seems more drawn towards classic feminine style, I think he’d actually find someone with a similar style to his really attractive, even if it’s just in color palette. I don’t think he really has a type stylistically tho.

Despite Libra Venus’ tendency to look for partners that they have an immediate connection with, they actually prefer the ‘friends to lovers’ route, and I think that’s very accurate for him.

He’s kinda into the chase(literally the entire Seven video like👀), so he likes a partner that plays a little hard to get and teases/challenges him sometimes, but only sometimes.

I think he’d prefer someone his age, or maybe even a little older(He has a noona/hyung kink, I will die on this hill)

Like Joon, I think he’d really appreciate who’s into fitness/working out/boxing(lowkey, if you can hold your own wrestling with him, he’s got heart eyes)

Someone confident, independant, and artistic with a good sense of humor. Someone well mannered and patient(rudeness is an instant turnoff for him). Someone who can challenge him, but in a gentle, non-critical manner.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[andy-wm]

i feel like i missed a chapter somewhere lol whats with the itaewon house? i know nothing about this, did one of them build a house?

Hey Anon

Yup, JK built a house

A few years back (2020? 2021?) He bought a very fancy property in the same neighbourhood as the embassies and Chaebol mansions - in the most expensive part of Itaewon.

I remember at the time, news sites were frothing over the house and how it reflected Jungkook's excellent taste. The common thread was that the prestige of the property showed how urbane he had become. It clearly indicated that he had grown into an astute and mature investor.

There was a lot of chatter about it being a fine family home in an exclusive locale.

I mean, it definitely was a flex. A freestanding house on a 6ooM2 allotment in Seoul? Please, the man clearly has a bottomless well of money. And even more impressive than the hefty price was the fact that he paid cash for it.

Of course, the straight-boy-JK brigade were ecstatic about his pretty new house. To them it was demonstrable proof that he had plans to find himself a pretty wife who would pump out pretty children for him. They were very smug about the hereronormative imagery his picturesque little cottage conjured up.

It was all very tiresome.

But what came next is my favourite part of the story. We all woke up one day to discover...

He unceremoniously flattened that house

Yup, the news broke one morning that the house was... gone. Bulldozed. He clearly had zero regard for its prestige, refinement, or family friendliness. I love that about him. He really does follow his own compass.

I was secretly delighted interested to see what would replace it, and Anon, I have not been disappointed.

Can a house have sex appeal?

This one does.

Where that frankly underwhelming red brick meh once stood, we now have a gloriously ominous and uncompromising statement that looms over the street.

Jungkook has built a neobrutalist fortress.

It is a thing of beauty. Sophisticated and dominant in a way that makes me feel just a little bit breathless, the fine balance of weight and lightness is magnificent. It has charisma, refinement, and a hint of malice. If it could speak, I imagine it would tell the people who try to impose their values on him to fuck off in several different languages.

Anon, on my honour I had absolutely no intention of going anywhere near his house before I saw it complete. Now I'm afraid that the desire to gaze at it in person it might outweigh my distaste for lurking near the home of a celebrity like a sasaeng. I'd die of mortification of he was actually at home. Maybe I can go when I know he isn't there?

Ugh i hate this for me. I just wanna see the bloody fluted concrete walls for myself.

But lets move on from my whining...

I find myself appraising the aesthetic and stylistic choices he's made with this building and truthfully I'm seeing Jeon Jungkook in a new light.

I am pretty fucking impressed with what he's doing here. This house shows far more finesse, maturity, and sophistication than the gable-roofed clipart homestead ever could. It's the absolute antithesis of that twee vision of traditional values and domestic boredom bliss.

This monstrosity is dark, brooding, and beautiful. And I'm a little bit in love with it.

Yes, i admit that some of the images come from tiktok accounts that have been stalking the build.

Yes, i am aware of my double standards.

Other photos come from the architect who posted progress shots on his insta, and he's quite entitled to do so since this is his work. He never mentioned whose house it was or anything else that could compromise our boy.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | October 1st-13th 2024

Hope all my fellow Canadians had a good long weekend! Had a week from hell last week so I didn't have time to put up the rec, and it's even a bit late for today, but I did it!

If you know anyone who's not tagged, please don't hesitate to tag them in the comments!

Complete

Siri, Call... by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Sickfic | 1,5K | General): Buck is sick and needs to call for help.

for thy true-love take by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Outsider POV, Established buddie | 2K | Teen): OR: Chimney Han and the ethics of slipping your coworkers love potions

watch out, you might get what you're after by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Getting Together | 2K | Mature): Buck unintentionally woos Eddie. And then has a hell of a time processing the way he feels about that.

i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this) by bellabrady (Getting Together | 2K | Not Rated): Or: How Buck and Eddie's first kiss leads to someone calling the police on them.

Put To Good Use by kittyeddie (PWP, BDSM | 3K | Explicit): Or, Buck and Eddie finally have a kid-free day at home, and take advantage of every second of it

At First Scent by Inell/ @inell (Urban Fantasy AU | 4K | Teen): When Buck visits Maddie, he meets Chris, a magic user needing his sister’s help learning how to use his powers. He also meets Eddie, Christopher’s dad, and feels a connection that he’s only ever dreamed of finding.

Bears, and Foxes, and a Three-Legged Bobcat by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, First Date | 4K | General): Buck and Eddie go on a non-date date to a wildlife park. Cuteness ensues.

Just Right by Inell/ @inell (Future fic, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After getting injured on a call, Buck wakes up the next morning and tries to piece together what happened, accidentally changing his relationship with Eddie in the process.

to adam, from your ribs by justhockey (S8, Getting Together | 4K | General): And the thing is, Buck is so good at being alone; he’s been doing it almost his whole life. But when he’s reminded of the way love tastes, drizzled like honey on your tongue - the way it feels, like the warm glow of sunlight on your skin. That is when he truly aches. Not the breaking, because he’s done that a thousand times over. It’s the knowing that really does him in. The having, for just a little while, before it’s snatched away so quickly he can still feel the burn on his fingertips from trying to hold on.

Hall Pass by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): After Buck and Eddie take Jee and Mara trick or treating, Chim and Maddie play a trick of their own to help Buck finally make a move on Eddie.

it's leading me on, every time we touch by lightyears (Post-S6, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): Eddie doesn’t think anything of it when he reaches across the table to pile some pasta onto his plate, says, “Just my back. It’s been giving me a bit of trouble.” “You’re hurt, Eddie?” Bobby asks him, and Eddie’s sure that his intention isn’t to capture the rest of the team’s attention, but by way of being Captain, it happens anyway. “I promise, Cap. I’m good. But if it helps, I can go speak with a doctor, make sure nothing else is going on.” Chim chirps up: “A physio probably makes more sense than a doctor.” “Or an occupational therapist,” Ravi suggests, and Eddie’s sure it’s to stave off a Chim-Hen showdown. “Even a massage therapist would probably help.” And then Maddie says, “Buck used to be a massage therapist” and everyone goes quiet, heads all swinging in Buck’s direction.

sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic by Underhung_Aura/ @eddiebabygirldiaz (Canon Divergent, Witch Buck, Sex Pollen | 5K | Explicit): Buck’s magic has always been a bit volatile. Jittery. Fluctuating. A touch reckless. Messy and bright and loud. Maddie says that a person’s magic is supposed to match the person themselves, that the form it takes isn’t happenstance or random, that it’s a reflection of your purest self, an extension of your soul that you can manipulate. Safe to say, Buck’s never cared for that assessment. or, buck has magic and eddie gets doused with sex pollen

Happy Accident by Inell/ @inell (Post-S8E01: Buzzkill, Friends to Fiances | 6K | Teen): When Buck gets some good news, he accidentally kisses Eddie, which leads to a conversation that changes their relationship.

Kissing On The Corner, Wait For Just A Minute by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Secret Relationship | 6K | Teen): Buck and Eddie think they're so smooth. They're cool, calm, collected. Normal, in fact. Just two normal best friends. Nothing to see here. Nobody is convinced.

Does it bite at your edges? by noxeratum (Infidelity, Post-S7, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Eddie Diaz is so repressed that he thinks his jealousy is bigotry and feels bad about it.

Talk Dirty to Me by ameliahart (Post-S7, FWB | 6K | Explicit): In which Buck has recently ended things with Tommy, Eddie wants to explore his sexuality, and they decide to start sleeping together. As friends, of course.

Through the Looking Glass by jukoist/ @beforejuko (Post-S8E01: Buzzkill, Getting Together | 6K | General): Buck likes Tommy. He does! And he definitely isn't in love with Eddie. He's just... worried. Because Eddie keeps vanishing on Sundays, leaving Buck with the boyfriend he definitely likes as much as he should. Everything is fine. Or, a post 8x01 coda.

Basics, Understanding Basics by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Chris gets sick, loses part of his memory, and reassures Eddie and Buck they can still kiss in front of him. That's really thoughtful of him, except for the fact that Eddie and Buck aren't dating.

🔥All The Things You Want From Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): “Can I ask you something?” Eddie shrugs. “Sure.” Tommy looks nervous, unsure. Tommy never looks nervous, or unsure. “Do you think Evan would move in with me if I asked him?” (Or the one where Eddie feels Buck slipping through his fingers and can’t let him go, so he tells him not to move in with Tommy and blows everything apart.)

My Carpet’s Got Crop Circles by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Eddie & Karen, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): Or, five times Karen tries to use wine nights to get Eddie and Buck together, and the one time she didn't need to.

🔥Late Fines by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Librarian!Buck | 12K | Teen): Buck is a children's librarian at the branch closest to Eddie's house. When he gets himself involved in the lives of a cute kid and his handsome single dad, he gets a glimpse of what he wants in life. It might just take a few years to get it.

Eddie Diaz VS The Buck's Boyfriend Agenda by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S7, BuckTommy Break-Up | 23K | Mature): Eddie starts gathering information about why no one trusts Tommy. As he grows to hate their relationship more, he learns more about himself and what he wants.

🔥 ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies (Post-S7, Getting Together | 58K | Teen): or, gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 102K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

WIP

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 5/? | 32K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 9/14 | 40K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

Podfic

[Podfic] déjà vu by NC Pods (N0Connections)/ @n0connections // fic by peaktotheocean/ @peaktotheocean (S7E07: Ghost of a Second Chance | 10-20min | General): It is completely possible that Buck put too much thought into buying his couch. But Eddie can’t think of anyone else in his life who would buy a couch just so his kid would be comfortable.

🔥 [Podfic] With a Little Help From my Friends by MeggieJolly/ @meggiejolly // fic  by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Post-S3, Feelings Realization | 10-20min | Teen): “You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

🔥 as lucky as us [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglass // fic by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (Ravi POV, S7 | 20-30min | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier. “I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.” or, Ravi continually suffers as a third-wheel.

🔥 [podfic] baby, can i hold you? by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove // fic by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck (pre-Buddie, angst/comfort | 30-45min | Teen): Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut, and Buck feels something inside him crack when this helpless, devastated sob wracks his body, eyelashes clumped with tears he’s not letting fall. “What do you need?” Buck asks again. “What can I do?” Eddie makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know. I don’t know why this won’t stop.” or, eddie panics. buck holds him.

🔥 Heart, I Implore You [Podfic] by ReformedTsunderePodfics (ReformedTsundere)/ @film-in-my-soul // fic by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampire Eddie, PWP | 45-60min | Explicit): When Buck finds out his best friend isn't exactly human, he volunteers to help keep Eddie from dying. It's definitely just to keep Eddie from dying. No other reason. None whatsoever.

Re-Read

Down to the Bones of Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7E10: All Fall Down | 5K | Teen): The morning after Christopher leaves Eddie gets in his truck and drives. Buck lets him go, and Eddie fights to come back for both of them.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Seven - Eleanor

You aren't seen by Amelie all week. The first glimpse she gets of you is at the theater that following Friday. You hadn't told her you had spent almost every night in Lestat's home. That would definitely give her ideas, and you didn't need that right now.

She follows you into your dressing room. You take a seat at your table and look at your reflection. You're looking a little paler than before.

“Are you alright?” Amelie asks softly. She could tell she was worried about you. “I went to your house a couple times, you weren't there.”

You turn and look at her. “I've been… busy.”

Amelie comes closer and takes your hand in hers. “Busy?”

“I've just got a lot going on.”

She presses her hand to your forehead. “You look a little off, but you don't seem to have a temperature. Do you need anything? Water? Food? To rest a little?”

You shake your head. “No. I'm okay.”

“If you're sure…” Amelie doesn't look convinced. She steps away and takes her leave.

You slump agaiant your dressing table and sigh, fingers digging into your hair. All week you have been sneaking off to Lestat's to simply be with him. To let him taste you. To let him hold you.

God, the way his arms felt around you was a dream. You wanted nothing more than that in life. Well, there was perhaps more you could want to do with him. He certainly knew as much.

‘Are you alright, Chéri?’ 

His voice is in your head. He seems to know every thought and feeling you have. You find you don't mind quite as much. 

‘You're thinking a lot. Don't worry, mon amour.’

My love. That was the first time he had called you that.

A knock at your door makes you jump and turn around to see who it was. “Come in.”

The door opens and Jack enters. You offer him a smile and he smiles in return. “Amelie looked worried. Are you okay?” He asks.

“I assure you, I am well.”

‘More than well.’

You ignore Lestat in your mind.

“No one has seen or heard anything from you all week.”

‘I have certainly heard you.’

“No. I'm sorry. I've been busy. I'm still here though.” You smile again.

“Good. You're my best performer. You and that piano are my stars.”

‘The brightest star I have ever seen.’

You smile, but who you're smiling from is the question. You know who.

“I'll let you get ready.” Jack leaves you alone to prepare. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and stare hard at your reflection. You smile at yourself.

The magician on stage takes a bow, and people applaud. Lestat watches with disinterest. He doesn't care for anyone else in this show. He wants to see his shining star. His darling. His music maker.

The stage clears and the lights turn to the manager, Jack. He babbles for a little while and then addresses the crowd with open arms. Lestat leans forward in his seat, a proud grin on his lips.

Your name is announced.

The curtain open to reveal your piano in place and as Jack exists the stage, you come on. Lestat can't teat his eyes away from you. You're wearing a gorgeous gown and around your neck is that ruby red necklace he gave you months ago.

Your eyes find his own and he winks at you from his box. You're gorgeous.

You take a bow and sit down at your piano. A few moments of silence fill the room before you fill the air with your beautiful music. You're playing his song again. Lestat smiles. If this was a declaration, he was listening.

Everyone in the room was hanging on to every note. You had them completely wrapped up in your magic. You were the siren and they were the sailors.

You played for the next half hour. You enchanted every soul in the room.

Lestat had fallen even more for you.

When your time was done you took a bow and left the stage. Lestat, as usual, leaves his box. He's waiting for you at your dressing room before anyone else. You smile as he reaches out and caresses your cheek gently with his fingers. His touch is ghostly, so light you could barely feel it.

As Lestat leans in, almost as if to kiss you, you're both interrupted by a voice. You both turn to see a young woman, mid twenties at least, looking at you.

“Excuse me, I don't suppose you know where Noah is? I didn't see him in the show tonight and I wanted to speak to him.”

You feel yourself go stiff. Lestat grabs your arm gently and smiles at the woman. “Who is asking?”

“My name is Eleanor. I'm Noah's sister. I wrote to him to tell him I was coming to see him perform, but I didn't get a response, at least not one that arrived in time.” She shuffles on the spot slightly. “I was disappointed to see he was not on stage tonight. Don't suppose you know where he's staying?”

You turn your eyes to Lestat for help. What were you supposed to say? ‘Oh gosh, we're so sorry, you see, your brother was being an ass and Lestat decided to feed on him until he was dead.’

Yeah, that would go down well.

“Did you not hear? He left,” Lestat tells her.

The woman visibly deflates. “He did? No, I hadn't heard.”

Lestat keeps his hand on your arm to keep you calm. “Perhaps his letter had yet to reach you.”

“Possibly,” she sighs.

Lestat feels you grabbing at the sleeve and puts on a polite expression for Eleanor. “If you don't mind, we are just leaving.”

She looks between you both and steps back, getting the message. “Of course. Forgive me. I better contact home and see if Noah got through. Thank you kindly, both of you.”

Lestat takes your hand and guides you past the young woman. You're holding onto him tight. He can feel your panic just from the touch of your hand.

Once you're out of the theater you drag him into the alley nearby. 

“Shit, Shit, Shit!” You hiss out. “What are we gonna do?”

“Nothing,” he replies nonchalantly. 

“Nothing?” You stare at him in disbelief. “You killed her brother and she's looking for him!”

Lestat shrugs. “So? She'll never find him. I disposed of the body.”

“Oh my God!”

“He can't help you.”

You glare at the vampire. “This isn't funny! I'm the last person Noah went to see. No one knows you were involved!”

“Calm, Chéri. All will be well. No harm shall come to you.” He holds your face in his cold hands.

“Lestat…”

“Shh. If you keep on worrying you'll get wrinkles.” He taps your nose with his finger. “Do you want that?”

“Stop messing around.” You wave his hands away from your face. “Someone has to take things seriously around here.”

“Why? Nothing to worry about. You'll see.”

You almost hate how unbuttered he is by this, but at the same time, how many times has he done this before? Lestat was a clever man. He surely chose his victims carefully. If people kept on disappearing from the same place, flags would be raised. 

“I trust you,” you say softly.

Lestat grins. “That's what I like to hear. Now, back to mine for a nightcap?”

You roll your eyes and go with him.

When you get back to his house, Lestat can tell you're still freaking out over Eleanor's presence in town. You're all figgity in your seat. Lestat sighs and holds out the glass of wine in front of your face. When you don't take it from him he places it on the table beside you.

“I can make you forget,” he offers.

“Forget?”

“About Eleanor and her questions.”

“That might make things worse,” you sigh. You didn't want to forget that the family of a dead man was out there searching for him.

“Just for tonight.” Lestat leans over, his lips brushing along your ear. You feel a shiver run down your spine. 

He closes the distance between you both and wraps his arms around you so smoothly. You fall into his embrace with ease. Whatever line there was between you before had been crossed, and you knew there was no going back. Lestat kisses along your jaw, your breathing came out in small little pants. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Lestat,” he name falls from your lips with ease.

“Shh.” He whispers in your ear. “Tonight you are mine and I am yours.”

His lips press against your own with desire. Long awaited desire. From this single kiss you knew he had been waiting a long time for this. Lestat had had his eyes on you for a while now. It was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. Lestat could be patient when he wanted to be.

He pulls you into his lap and brings your bodies closer together. It's like a magnetic force bringing you together. You follow after his lips, your hands grab onto him wherever they can. Lestat lets you chase after every part of him that you want.

Your fingers dig into his hair as he pulls you to sit up in his lap. He lifts you up enough so he can lay you down and climb on top of you. His lips leave yours to trail back down your jaw and then your neck. Your back arches as he goes lower, down to your collarbone. His hands stay firm on your hips.

You're about to forget your own damn name, that's for sure.

His large hands go wandering under your clothes. You've never found yourself in this position before. Lestat had you feeling all kinds of ways.

You gasp as he sucks on the spot he bit you from last time you were here. The skin there was sensitive and had you shaking under him.

“Ma petite beauté.”

He speaks in a low voice. He's using every ounce of his charms to keep you with him. It's working.

His fingers pluck at your clothes. You don't even move to stop him. He smirks against your skin.  He's about to undo the buttons but there's firm knocking at the door.

Lestat lifts his head. You look up at him. “Don't answer it.”

“Chéri, I do not get guests.” He looks at you.

You hear the knock again and Lestat rises from the couch. He fixes his hair and stalks slowly toward the door. You sit up and fix your clothes, missing the touch of his lips on your skin.

Lestat opens the doors. You watch from your spot on the sofa. He doesn't say anything as she steps back and lets the person inside.

Amelie.

You stand up quickly and hurry over to her. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you would be here.” She looks you up and down. “I didn't know where else to go.”

You place your hands on her shoulders and look at her. Lestat watches from the door. He remains quiet as you talk to her.

“It's about Noah… the police came to the theater. His sister called them after finding his apartment. He's gone missing.”

You stare at her. Lestat can see the panic in your eyes. Eleanor was causing him problems. He is normally a little more clever when it comes to his victims.

“What… what's happening?” You ask.

“They're saying kidnap, but… they're also gonna look for a body… It was awful. They were all over the theater lookin’ for clues.”

You glance at Lestat who holds your gaze with a sharp look. You turn back to Amelie. “Let me walk ya home.”

Amelie nods and follows you out. Lestat doesn't even get to kiss you goodbye.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19

[chaoticbardlady99]

Echo (Sylus x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Sylus would do just about anything to make you happy- even going as far as trying his hand at arts and crafts. Thankfully, the Tour has the perfect gift for him to make and he takes a moment to reflect on all he has shared with you- both in this life and the last.

“He loves me, he loves me not…”

CW: Mentions of Sylus’ lore (mentions of violence, grief), uhhh shouldn’t be anything else, FLUFF

Author Note: I really loved the last card and wanted to write a little blurb from Sylus’ perspective of making the Echo Bottle 🐦‍⬛❤️💋 all comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) pic above belongs to me.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from LADS or anything mentioned from that game. I do not give permission for AI to use my content and I do not use AI- uhhh I think that’s all?

*I’m a goofy person so my characters are a bit eccentric

******************************

Sylus is a man of good taste, but he wouldn’t consider himself an arts and crafts master. He wouldn’t consider himself gentle enough to even be able to create something as simple as an Echo Bottle. However, when it comes to you, it seems to come to him naturally.

He isn’t entirely sure how he is going to hide the fact that he made the damn thing- shimmering red sparkles are coating his hair like snowflakes and he still can’t get this stupid craft feather off of him. It’s clinging tighter to him than you do when you’re cold at night.

It will be worth it to see you so happy though.

With a sigh of relief, he finally rolls up the tiny piece of paper and puts it into the bottle. The paper feels as delicate as the words written on it.

Sylus has so many moments- from when you named him, those imaginary moments in the black church, and the pretend final kiss in the field of Datura flowers. Every single place you conquered together and all the acts of terror you would probably be horrified to know you committed.

And now? Well now, you have somehow fallen in love with him, ‘monster’ and all, again. He could never begin to describe to you how every second of domestic bliss and love from you makes up for all those centuries of feeling lonely, misunderstood, and incapable of experiencing love, both given and returned.

Every Plushie that lays haphazardly around his base(s) is just another memory and moment of gratefulness. Silly games and your ridiculous cartoon drawings of Mephisto litter his home so carelessly and openly- it’s so nice to have you home again.

However- while there are many similar memories- the memories in the black Church are littered with grief and horror. It wasn’t real- it was merely an illusion whereas tidying up with you, picking out decorations with you, and slowly building a home together is very real and a very happy memory.

So instead he settled on a memory in both lifetimes that brings him nothing but peace now- memories that don’t wake him up in a panic and call you just to make sure you’re alive, still here, and he is still truly yours again.

Some things never change. Much like you have always been his treasure, your singing voice is his favorite too. It was naturally the best option to pick- nothing tainted or upsetting about either.

The first time I heard you sing.

You were the first voice to sing in his presence. It soothed his entire soul and then when he was able to sing Karaoke with you? Sylus is aware he isn’t very good, but he was way more focused on listening to you anyway and you have been on many fun little karaoke dates since. Your hair has changed, your eyes have changed, but your voice remains the same in that it is a balm for his soul.

The benefit of this sentence is that it’s broad enough that only he really knows the hidden memory behind it. There’s no grief or heartbreak for you to experience- just a fun memory and another moment he was thankful to steal of your time. It was one of the first real chances you ever gave him (twice really, if he thinks about it) and he will cherish those two moments for as long as you shall allow him to live.

Sylus’ thoughts are broken by two pink gloved hands covering his eyes- he briefly used his Evol to hide the Echo Bottle in his coat pocket.

“Guess who!”

“Guess who?”

“Yes! Guess who!”

“Why?”

“I-“ you pause, “I’m not sure, but I’m committed to the bit now and I never intended for you to begin asking too many questions!

“Now, then,” you clear your throat dramatically, “guess who!”

He chuckles- your silliness and games are a major improvement to being poked in the side. He should probably reward this good behavior to avoid that.

“Is it my favorite sleepy kitten?”

“Sleepy and grumpy!” You correct as you hop over and sit on the left of the bench, “I woke up and was dreadfully cold without my personal space heater beside me.”

He takes your chin between his thumb and index finger before he leaves a deep, chaste kiss on your lips, “I’m so sorry, kitten. How can I atone for my crimes?”

You tap your chin while reaching for something in your pocket.

“Well- I could use your help answering a question for me,” you pull out a flower with a single petal on it, “I’ve been seeing this guy lately and I think I want to-“ you look around as if it’s top secret, “drop the ‘L’ word- if you know what I mean.”

Sylus has to hold back the stupid grin that threatens to split his face open. He’s going to let you do your thing because he’s quite interested now, he’s been wanting to say it for a long time now (arguably way too long).

“I see,” he muses, “and what is it that you need me to do?”

You are slowly turning more and more flushed by the second and he is swept up in how wonderfully adorable you are. Sylus really really hopes you like your gift from him- you are everything to him and he loves to see you happy.

“I need you to pull off the last petal,” you say slowly, “but I want to know- does Sylus love me or does he love me not?”

Whether you realize it or not- he can feel your heartbeat thundering in your chest as if it was his own. All the blood rushing in your ears- you just told him you love him and yet he’s still nervous you may reject him and it’s all been some massive dream.

Sylus gently plucks the petal and looks at you- his eyes staring into yours in hopes that you will see how much he truly means his next sentence.

“I love you. kitten.”

There’s that wonderful smile again and his most favorite gift from you- a kiss on both sides of his face, one on the tip of his nose, and the last on his lips before you rest your forehead against his.

“I love you too, Sylus.”

And he couldn’t be more grateful that he has more time to make first time memories with you than he did before.

[marielle555]

Astarion's Choice.

Hello everyone! Thank you very much Artofluba for your interesting and insightful comment on my previous post, and I just can't help but quote this important point:

“Furthermore, from a purely game development and DM standpoint, the fact that a player must make a very difficult check in order to persuade Astarion not to ascend is a clear signal from the devs that his character is naturally predisposed to choose Ascension as the default pathway. It makes sense, if players follow all of the dialogue of the game. To ignore these dialogue cues from the beginning all the way to the Cazador fight is kind of crazy - DM would be like, "I gave you so many hints, how did you not know what to do?"

Astarion wants to Ascend, and he's been talking about it since the moment he learns the possibility exists. “After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, I think I deserve something better.” - how much real pain there is in that line, in his scream. And what does Astarion choose for himself?

“Spawn or Ascend: What will Astarion choose without Tav?”

“It doesn't matter which answer options you choose throughout the game, Astarion himself does not refuse the ritual, only if he does not have the opportunity to perform the ritual: if he has not read the scroll or one of the spawns is killed.

It also doesn't matter if you're friends with him or in a romantic relationship, the test of persuasion is always the same. 18 persuasion and 20 insight, but you'll have an advantage in the insight test if you're having an affair with him, that's the only difference - Verified!”

(quote from channel author AlexKhodja's comment).

Also in the game, Astarion is unable to decide his own fate, against Tav's wishes, due to purely physical limitations. Astarion desperately asks for help, there's a choice to help him or not help him, but he can't slice the scars on Cazador without Tav's help (or another companion's help, as in the video, Minthara - you're the best!).

Even in the scar scene, Tav draws the symbols in the sand rather than on paper, though it would be much more realistic on paper, and there's plenty of that paper in the inventory. But then, Astarion would have been able to save and memorize the symbols, which would have prevented him from depending on Tav's decision. A failed die roll and that's it, Astarion will leave the group unless you help him. ("I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” is the same thing Astarion says in the video to all those ‘good’ hypocrites). Also, Astarion has a line: “And I want to live a full life! Not some half existence, hiding in the shadows for the rest of eternity.”

I like the double standard of the “goodness” here. No one really cares about all those 7000 spawns, no one condemns (including in the game all the “good” companions approve of it) the “hero” who just kills the spawns for the sake of the city's safety. The main thing is not to give anything to Astarion.

Astarion, of course, will take his own Ascension. He wants to be alive again, to live life to the fullest, to get rid of his painful hunger, to enjoy the sun he loves so much, to see his reflection again, and to taste real life in all its fullness. Astarion himself would certainly never consider condemning himself to an eternal existence as a spawn to be a “better version of himself” or whatever else a “good hero” might come up with. It is not this “hero” who will have to experience hunger, never see the sun, and even when looking in the mirror see only emptiness in it, as if you did not exist.

As someone who has been forced to survive and exist in extremely brutal, hellish conditions, Astarion will think rationally. Hunger alone ("The pain from the hunger alone - there's nothing like it. ” Astarion) has always been and will always be a far more significant motivator than anyone's morals. There is no Astarion who chose to reject the ritual, there is an Astarion who was not helped. He was beckoned with the possibility of a full life, given a taste of it while he had a tadpole, and then that full life was taken away again. And even to taste not all of it, because only after the ritual: “I… I can't feel it. That ache in my stomach, that hunger - it's gone.” The unascended Astarion will never even know what it is like - not to feel hunger.

[mim16s]

Arcade — Se-mi x fem!reader

From the beginning, you knew the relationship was a losing game, but obsession and attachment were stronger than reason, making it impossible to simply let it go.

Winning story of this poll

English is not my first language, so there may be spelling errors, but I hope you like it.

---

— Why do you keep pushing me away? You're my girlfriend, but you act like a stranger. — Your voice broke as tears streamed down his face. Semi was there, just a few steps away from you, but she felt more distant than ever. She wouldn’t look into your eyes, staring at the wall instead, as if ignoring your pain was easier than facing it. 

— You're overreacting, — she said, her voice low, almost indifferent, but you knew there was something more hidden beneath it. 

— Overreacting? — Your breathing became uneven, as if indignation was consuming you. — Damn it, the last time you kissed me was a week ago! I don't even remember the last time we slept together. You spend the whole day out, barely look at me, and now you can't even face me. Is there someone else? Is that it? — The words came out fast, your voice breaking at the end as fear and insecurity took over. Your words were enough to finally make her look at you. 

Semi’s eyes met yours with something between shock and pain, as if you had just said the most absurd thing in the world. 

— You know I would never do that. — Her voice was firm, but there was something broken in her tone. — I've just been… working. These debts are taking all my time. 

— I know! — you shouted, the desperation inside you growing. — And I'm helping you with that, but that doesn’t give you the right to push me away like I'm not part of your life! 

— That's the problem. — Her voice came out almost as a whisper, but every word cut like a blade. 

— What? What do you mean by that? — you asked, feeling the ground disappear beneath your feet. Your voice trembled, full of fear for the answer you were about to hear. 

She hesitated, as if the next sentence was an unbearable weight to carry. But then, she let it out: 

— Maybe… maybe we shouldn't be together anymore. 

Everything stopped. The world seemed to freeze around you. The silence was so deafening it screamed inside your head. You could almost hear your heart pounding, aching, as if it was struggling to keep beating. You stood there, staring at her, tears falling uncontrollably, unable to find the strength to speak or move. 

Semi also seemed surprised by her own words, as if they had hurt her just as much as they had hurt you, but she didn’t take them back. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but behind them was a cruel determination. She grabbed a jacket that was thrown over the couch and, without another word, walked out the door. 

You collapsed onto the floor as soon as you heard the door close. The weight of the moment was unbearable. Your knees gave out, and you broke down, tears blurring your vision. It was as if reality had crumbled around you, leaving behind only an unbearable pain. 

On the other side of the door, Semi finally allowed her tears to fall. The salty taste of each tear was a reflection of her decision, of everything she had just lost. She knew she loved you more than anything, but that love was dangerous. She owed money to people who didn’t forgive, who would do anything to collect their debt. And if you stayed by her side, you would be in danger too. 

She had already seen the end of your story before it even began, but still, she had taken the risk, betting everything she had. And now, she was paying the price. As much as she wanted to fight, reality was relentless. You deserved more, deserved someone who could give you security, a better life. And she couldn’t offer that. Not with those debts. Not with the chaos she was caught up in. 

— I should've never started this. I could never give you what you deserve. 

But that didn’t make the decision any less painful. Every step she took away from you felt like it was breaking her a little more. Because deep down, Semi knew she was walking away from the only good thing she had ever had in her life. 

---

— Y/N? What are you doing here? — A familiar voice came from behind you, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound shattered the fragile silence you had carried in your heart since the day she left. The same voice that had destroyed you but still lived in every corner of your chest, as if it had built a home inside you. 

You turned around, and there she was. Semi. The woman who had broken your heart but never really left it. 

— Semi. — Her name slipped from your lips in a whisper, heavy with months of hurt and longing. 

Semi stood still for a moment, surprised to see you there. Her eyes scanned you with a mix of relief and despair. 

— You shouldn't be here, — she said, stepping closer quickly. — It's too dangerous for you. 

Before you could react, Semi grabbed your hand. The touch you had longed for so long was finally there. Memories, laughter, soft touches, passionate kisses, whispered promises that now seemed so distant flooded your mind. But along with them came reality. You pulled away from her touch, and the look of sadness she gave you almost broke your heart all over again. 

— It's okay, I deserve that. — She averted her eyes, but only for a second. Since she had left you, Semi hadn’t spent a single day without thinking about you. She had wondered how you were, if you had moved on, if you were happy. And now that she was in front of you again, all she wanted was to be selfish for a moment, to forget why she had left and beg to come back. 

But she knew it wasn’t that simple. 

— You do, — you answered, your voice firm but filled with pain. — But not just that, Semi. You destroyed me. I shouldn't even be here, shouldn't even be talking to you. You ended our years-long relationship without even giving me a reasonable explanation. 

The words hit Semi like knives she knew she deserved. She took a deep breath before finally speaking. 

— You're right. I owe you an explanation. — Her voice trembled, but she continued. — I… I never wanted to break up with you, but I had to. 

You stayed silent, waiting for something that might finally make sense of what she had done. 

— At that time, I was… I was in debt with loan sharks. — Semi looked down, as if it was hard to confess. — And I couldn't pay them back. They started threatening me… and threatening you. I couldn't let them do anything to you because of my mistake. That week, they told me that if I didn’t pay up, they would hurt you. I had no way out, Y/N. The only thing I could do to protect you was to push you away. 

You froze. For months, you had wondered about the reason, and now, hearing it felt surreal. 

— I swear I didn't want to break up with you. — Semi’s voice cracked, and tears began streaming down her face. — But I had no choice. I love you too much to let anything happen to you because of me. 

You could barely process her words. Seeing Semi cry was rare. She had always been so strong, so resilient. But now, there she was—broken, vulnerable, in a way you had never seen before. 

— You should have told me… — your voice came out low, still in disbelief. 

— And get you even more involved in this? — Semi answered quickly, her tone almost desperate. — That was never an option, Y/N. I just… I just wanted you to be safe. I'm sorry. 

Tears now fell silently from her face, and the strong facade she usually wore was crumbling. Every angry speech you had rehearsed for this moment… vanished. 

You stepped forward and hugged her, holding her as if time hadn’t passed. Semi wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you so tightly it felt like she was afraid to lose you again. 

— I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… — she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. 

You stroked her hair as you cried too. No words could fix everything, but for that moment, the embrace was enough. Two wounded souls, trying to find refuge in each other. You didn’t know if there was a future for you both, but despite everything, she still felt like home. Because even after all this time, the love you shared was something that not even time had been able to erase.

——

You were now in the second game, trying to form a team. Your hands were still intertwined with hers when you noticed a shy guy standing off in the distance, watching the other players. He seemed to be gathering the courage to ask to join a team. You looked at Semi with the expression of someone asking to adopt a puppy, and she, unable to deny you anything, just nodded her head.  —Hey, do you want to join our team?— you asked.  The guy hesitated for a moment, but soon agreed with a shy nod.  —Yes, please—he answered with a slightly shaky voice, almost desperate, bowing slightly in respect.  You smiled, gently tapping his shoulder.  —No need to bow—you said kindly. —I’m Y/N, and this is Semi.—You gestured toward her, and she gave a brief wave. —And you? —Minsu. My name is Minsu Park.—He replied, trying to smile as well.  —Why did you join the game?—Semi asked, but before he could answer, a voice called out from behind you.  —Señoritas, excuse me.— You turned around, finding a man with purple hair. He had a confident posture, but something about him seemed... off.  —Come play with me, huh?— said the stranger. Beside him, a friend nudged him, as if trying to stop him.  Semi immediately wrapped an arm around you protectively, and you could feel the tension in the air.  —Why?— Semi asked, suspicious.  —Don’t you know who I am? I’m the rapper Thanos."  —Wait, we don’t even know what the game is yet. And they’re women, man—commented his friend in a derogatory tone. You held back the urge to roll your eyes.  —Thanos will protect you— he said confidently.  —Oh, really? Thanos, did you collect all the Infinity Stones?—you teased, with a touch of sarcasm.  —Of course!—he replied, showing his painted nails in the colors of the stones. You blinked, trying to process this. He seemed... high? Definitely out of touch with reality.  —From now on, I’ll destroy anyone who gets in my way—he continued, gesturing exaggeratedly.—If you stay with me, you’ll be safe.— He looked directly at you, but Semi quickly pulled you closer, making him look confused for a few seconds.  —Actually, we were thinking about joining someone else’s team— Semi answered.  —No problem. Who?—he asked, curious.  You moved aside so he could see Minsu, who looked like a scared kitten hiding behind you.  —What’s your name?— asked the purple-haired man.  —It’s... Minsu—The guy replied, almost stuttering.  —What a stupid face...— muttered Thanos’ friend, stepping forward, but was stopped by Thanos.  —What's up? Nice to meet you, my brother. Welcome to the Thanos world— he greeted Minsu with an exaggerated hug.—You’re cute, come here. Although you felt this group wasn’t the best choice, there didn’t seem to be many options or time to think. Reluctantly, you agreed, but the discomfort with the long-haired, dark-haired man wouldn’t go away. 

---

You finally finished the game and sat close to each other, watching Namgyu acting like a total idiot with Minsu. The growing feeling that he didn’t seem like a good person only increased.  —How many people do you think are left?— Namgyu asked in a mocking tone.  —What?—Minsu, who was all curled up, asked.  —Yeah, how many are there?—Namgyu with the long hair repeated. —How many worms do you think are still here?— You watched as Minsu looked around, trying to estimate the number of people.  —Uh... two hundred, I think. —How do you know? Count them one by one. —Now?—Minsu asked, and Namgyu nodded positively. You felt sorry for him; he was too innocent for this place. When he was about to get up, you were about to intervene, but Semi was faster and stopped him.  —Sit down, what are you gonna count for? What a dumb thing to do, soon the masked guys will come and say...—Semi spoke, and Namgyu glared at her for questioning the authority he thought he had.  —Shut up, you bich —Hey, don't talk to her like that!— you said, already getting pissed off with his attitude. When he was about to respond, Thanos interrupted.  —Stop it! What’s your name?— He asked, looking at the shyest one.  —Minsu. —How old are you? —I’m twenty-seven— Minsu replied, his hands placed nervously in his lap.  —Twenty-seven, why are you obeying him? He’s your age. Hey Namsu, are you twenty-seven? —It’s Namgyu— you almost laughed at that. He walks around like a little dog behind someone he doesn’t even know the name of? Pathetic.  —Okay, Namgyu. Are you twenty-seven?—Thanos said, not caring about the correction.  —Yeah—Namgyu confirmed.  —See that? Leave him alone, man. We’re together, okay? How old are you?—Thanos asked Semi and you.  —Twenty-eight—she lied.  —Twenty-seven— you lied as well, not wanting to admit you were the youngest and risk having problems with Namgyu thinking he could boss you around.  —So, that’s it. You three are the same, and you’re the old lady.—He pointed at Semi. You let out a small laugh, and she looked at you, also laughing.  —Hey Namsu, call her old lady—Thanos said, and Namgyu laughed too. 

---

After eating, you sat very close to each other in a discreet corner where few people were around. The few who were there were far enough away that nothing else mattered except the two of you.  —I missed you...—you whispered, your voice full of longing. Semi held your hands tightly, as if wanting to make sure you were really there.  —I missed you too... There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. But now that we’re together again, I promise to be the girlfriend you always deserved. —Semi...—Your eyes searched hers, so full of sweetness and desire.—You’re already everything I could want. You’re perfect for me. Semi’s gaze slid over your lips before returning to your eyes, and her voice came heavy with desire and urgency.  —I really want to kiss you right now... She moved closer, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies touching in a silent promise of everything you felt for each other.  —People can see...—you murmured, but the warmth of her touch made your body give in, your will dissolving in the desire to feel her even more.  —And you care? Because I don’t—Semi replied, her voice hoarse, full of longing.  Before you could say anything, her lips took yours, and the world around you disappeared. The kiss was intense, urgent, as if both of you were starving for each other. It was like a dance that only the two of you knew, each movement in perfect harmony, each sigh echoing like an intimate melody between you. Semi pulled you into her lap, and your hands slid over her face, holding her as if you never wanted to let her go. Your fingers trembled with the need to feel her more, to imprint every detail of the moment.  The air soon became scarce, and you pulled away just enough to breathe. But Semi didn’t want distance. She chased your lips with small kisses before burying her face in your neck, spreading slow, lingering kisses across your skin. Her arms tightened around your waist, as if she feared you’d disappear again.  —I missed this so much... I love you.— Her voice was muffled against your skin, full of emotion.  You smiled and held her face, lifting it so your eyes could meet.  —I love you even more...—you whispered before sealing your lips in a tender kiss.—Semi, let’s play just one more game so we can leave soon. She nodded, but her eyes said all she wanted was you.  —Just one more game...— she repeated, but before letting you go, she stole one more kiss, deep and full of promise. As soon as you left, she didn’t just want to kiss you... she wanted to rediscover you completely.

---

You woke up to loud music echoing through the speakers. Your body was still intertwined with Semi's, your head resting on her chest, while her arms held you tightly, as if refusing to let you go. The warmth of her body was comforting, and for a moment, you wished time would stop right there.

With a gentle touch, you softly shook her to wake her up. Semi blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light, her face relaxed as if she had slept deeply for the first time in a long time... actually, since the last time you two had been together. She felt recharged, as if being with you was all she needed to feel complete.

When your eyes met hers, a light, sleepy smile appeared on her lips, almost as if she had forgotten for a moment where you were.

—We need to get up... the game is about to start— you murmured, your voice low, almost reluctant to break the moment.

Semi nodded, but before allowing any distance to grow between you, she slightly lifted her head and captured your lips in a soft, slow kiss, filled with affection. Her fingers slid over your skin before, with some hesitation, she finally let go of you.

You got up first, feeling the cold take the place where her warmth had been. Semi watched you for a moment before sighing and getting up right behind you, her eyes still filled with a silent desire to pull you into her arms once again.

"Players, welcome to the third game. We’re about to begin! Today’s game is called Socialize."

The robotic voice echoed through the environment, cold and impersonal.

—There’s a carousel! It’s going to be awesome, right?— Thanos said excitedly, but you just stared at him. "Awesome" didn’t seem like the right word. Not here. You just wanted this to end soon.

"Pay attention to the game rules. Players, please head to the center of the platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and a number will be announced. You’ll have 30 seconds to form a group with the exact number of members corresponding to the number, enter a room, and close the door."

You tried to convince yourself: It will be fine as long as we’re together.

"Attention, the game is starting."

The platform began to spin. The floor trembled under your feet, the movement destabilizing you. Semi held your hands tightly, keeping you steady.

—So we don’t get separated—she said, her eyes determined.

"Ten."

There were five of you. You needed five more. Your heart raced. Without wasting any time, you grabbed random people and ran to an empty room. Semi never let go of your hand, her fingers squeezing yours as if her life depended on it.

The countdown ended. The door locked.

And then came the gunshots.

The screams were worse. High-pitched, desperate, suddenly cut off. You felt your whole body shiver. The sound of bodies falling to the ground echoed outside. Semi pulled you close, and you curled up against her.

When you left, you were back at the carousel. The children’s music played as a cruel contrast to the brutality of the game. Thanos and Namgyu danced, oblivious to the tension that made your chest burn. You tried to breathe deeply, but you felt like you were suffocating.

The rotation stopped.

"Four."

There were five of you.

Your stomach sank.

—You go, I’ll find another team.—Semi said, trying to release your hand.

You squeezed tighter.

—No!

—We don’t have a choice. I’ll see you later.— She pulled away and ran, shouting for someone who needed another member.

Your chest burned as you watched her disappear into the crowd. Panic gripped your throat, but Thanos pulled you into a room. The door closed, and you threw yourself against the small window, your eyes frantically scanning the area.

Gunshots.

Screams.

Your heart beat so hard it hurt. Your eyes burned, but Semi wasn’t among the fallen bodies. She made it... of course, she did. Semi is clever. She wouldn’t lose. But that thought wasn’t enough. You needed to see her.

When the door opened, you found her in the crowd. Without hesitation, you ran to her and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

—You’re okay.—Your voice came out shaky, hot tears escaping before you even realized it.

Semi ran her fingers through your hair, her warm, steady presence against you.

—Of course, I am. I’m not leaving you.

You held onto those words.

The platform spun again.

"Three."

—Hey, who’s staying?— Namgyu asked, laughing, as if this was just some game.

—Play rock-paper-scissors!—Thanos suggested, mocking.

You felt a weight in your chest. Something was wrong.

—Stay with us.— Semi reached out to Minsu, confident.

He hesitated for a second. And then made "scissors."

Your stomach churned.

—Minsu, you bastard! He threw scissors!— Namgyu laughed.

—Minsu, you win!— Thanos pulled Minsu into their group, leaving you and Semi behind.

Betrayal.

Your body went cold. Semi still stared at you, stunned, but soon averted her gaze.

There was no time for hate now.

—Let’s go.— You said, pulling her to find someone else. Your heart still burned from the betrayal, but survival took precedence.

You found a lone player and ran to a room. More gunshots. More deaths. But you made it.

The game moved on. Rounds passed. And then...

"Two."

This time it was easy. You and Semi ran together, your hearts pounding, the desperation pushing you into the room. When the door closed, you looked at each other, still breathless.

—It’s over!— you said, and Semi smiled.

She pulled you into a tight hug. You made it, but the game still wasn’t over.

The dormitory’s atmosphere was heavy, filled with death. But the relief of still being alive was the only comfort.

—Let’s vote for the X this time.— You said, and Semi nodded without hesitation.

The voting began. You and Semi pressed the X.

Namgyu and Thanos cursed at you, furious. Semi just raised her middle finger at them.

Minsu also voted for the X. When he got closer to you, Namgyu seemed even angrier.

But you didn’t care. It meant you had more chances to get out this time.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The tie came like a punch.

Your stomach sank.

Now you would have to wait another day.

But what made your body tremble wasn’t the vote. It was that bad feeling, the one that had been there for some time... and was only getting worse.

You and Semi were in bed. She noticed your restlessness and wrapped her arms around you.

—It’s okay, baby. Tomorrow we’ll make it. We’re getting out of here.—You swallowed hard.

—Do you promise?

Semi hesitated for a moment. You both knew it was an empty promise. But still, she tightened you against her and murmured,

—I promise.

Time seemed to drag on. You stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as if the heat of each other was the only real thing in that place.

Then the speakers blared.

"Player 230 eliminated."

Your heart froze.

A fight broke out in the bathroom. Dead. Several.

The players who returned were arguing, accusing each other.

This wasn’t a good sign.

—Tonight... we have to protect ourselves. There’s going to be a fight for sure.—Someone said from a distance.

You exchanged a look with Semi.

For the first time, her fear was visible.

And you knew this night could be the longest of all.

The lights went out, and you hid together, your hearts pounding in unison. But when the fight started, chaos spread like wildfire. Panic roared around you—screams, blows, the smell of blood in the air.

Then, you were surrounded.

Namgyu appeared with another man by his side. Namgyu lunged at Semi, and the other man came straight for you.

You didn’t think, you just reacted. You didn’t know where you got the strength to fight, but you grabbed the first object you found, a shard of glass forgotten on the floor. The adrenaline pulsed through you like thunder as you drove it into the man’s ribs. He let out a guttural groan, stumbling backward. You knew you hadn’t killed him... but the bleeding would do that for you.

But none of that mattered.

Because when you turned around, Semi wasn’t by your side anymore.

Panic struck you like a punch to the stomach.

Your gaze swept the room frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. People were fighting around you, but everything became a blur. You could only think about her.

And then you saw her.

Cornered. Fighting against Namgyu.

Your body froze before charging toward her. You ran, ran like never before, dodging punches, stepping on bodies on the floor. You saw when Minsu threw a bottle from above, trying to hit Namgyu and missed. The glass shattered on the floor.

Semi grabbed one of the shards.

And went for him.

Your chest tightened.

—Semi!—You screamed, but the sound was drowned in the chaos.

You ran faster, each step sinking like quicksand, every fiber of your being screaming for you to make it in time.

But you weren’t fast enough.

Namgyu drove a fork into her.

Time stopped.

The air left your lungs.

Semi let out a strangled sigh before her legs failed her. Her body collapsed to the ground, weak, but he kept driving the fork into her again, and again.

—NO!

Rage exploded inside you like a storm. You charged at him, pushing Namgyu away from her. With trembling hands, you drove the glass into him without hesitation. He roared, fighting to get you off him, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t care.

With a wild move, you tore the fork from his hand and drove it straight into his windpipe.

Blood sprayed hot on your hands.

You only stopped when he stopped fighting.

Your whole body trembled. Your eyes flickered to his lifeless face, but all that mattered was behind you.

Semi.

You spun on your heels and ran to her, falling to your knees beside her. Her blood stained the ground, her pale lips parting in silent attempts to breathe.

—No, no, no...—You murmured, pressing your hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding that flowed endlessly. As if that could keep her there. As if that could stop her from being ripped away from you.

Semi squeezed your hand with the little strength she still had.

When you looked into her eyes, they were filled with pain.

But also filled with love, a love you were losing.

Your chest tightened so hard you couldn’t breathe.

—No... you promised me...—your voice broke, collapsing into desperate sobs. —You promised you’d stay...

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. But you saw in her eyes that she wanted to apologize, and that broke you.

You shook your head frantically, tears burning your skin.

—NO! You can’t leave me! Semi, please... please, I love you, I love you so much... STAY WITH ME!

Your hands held her face, desperate, pleading, begging for something you knew you couldn’t have.

She gave a weak smile.

And then, she let out her final breath.

Her body went limp in your arms.

The world shattered around you.

The air disappeared. Your heart stopped.

A primal sound tore from your throat, a screeching, horrible scream, a pain that words couldn’t contain, a wail for everything that could have been but never would be. You held her against you, sobbing violently, her blood mixing with yours.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

The love of your life was dead.

You didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. You only realized when your body was pulled back.

Minsu.

He held you, wrapped his arms around you, but there was no warmth there.

—It’s okay...—he murmured, but it was distant, an echo lost in the void.

But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again.

You clung to him because you didn’t know what else to do, your body shaking uncontrollably, your sobs tearing your throat, your soul shattering with every second that passed without her.

There was no comfort.

Nothing could comfort you now.

Because deep down, you always knew.

Loving Semi was a losing game.

[pinksobg]

How to atract better the lover|love you so deserve

already in a relationship and single reading

for reflection only. hope it resonates and you enjoy. hope you all are doing very well :)

pile one - singles -

dolphin - 20 - true.

When meeting someone new, preferably tell the truth from the beginning and don't settle for anything less than respect for the person you are from the beginning. The advice is to be spontaneously you, the carefree energy, being true to your personalities and tastes. "I like this, I like that, I don't like this".

hermit - get to know yourself, and you can even reinvent yourself or, better yet, another skill or quality of yours, valuing your individuality.

the moon reverse - the tip is to also think about the practical, logical and tangible world and not just (and only) feelings. a balance between reason and emotion is advisable.

6 of Wands reversed - if necessary, correct your postures that harmed you in the past.

-----

in a relationship -

v

27 - fox - think quickly

30 - grasshopper - take a leap of faith

The advice from the cards here are basically to invest in your relationship. analyzing the responses you give to your partner on a daily basis or when you meet. If you tend to respond impulsively to a text message, for example, when you're angry, try taking a step back: take a break to do something else and then analyze the situation again: "Should I really talk like that?" "Now, do I understand myself and my partner better?"

about the grasshopper. Both, seek to strengthen trust in the relationship. whether with open conversations or questions, like, "what do you think we can improve in our relationship?"

I wish the best for you! If necessary, seek professional help. trust yourself. 

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

pile 2 - singles -

39 - moth - surrender.

connect with your spirituality.

38 - lizard - make your dream come true.

The advice is to go after a dream, especially if it's a good old dream that you still want to fulfill. It can also be going to a place, doing a hobby that you've always dreamed of, when and if possible.

what great messages!

hierophant - if you want, try to avoid listening to the unnecessary judgments and prejudices of others. live well according to your values, value them, if you want, value and/or invest in your lifestyle.

king of wands - take action when necessary and do the things you are passionate about, or add passion/love/appreciation towards your actions.

7 of Wands - stay true to yourself, protect yourself with healthy boundaries.

-- in a relationship -

oh, yes!

31 - groundhog - time to forget

reverse judgement, page of hearts, the fool, 7 of hearts, 4 of hearts.

well then! the message is apparently advice to learn to forgive your partner if necessary and if you want to<. especially if there are past hurts. learn to forgive and be forgiven. either with a frank conversation and/or inner meditation on the events.

It is advisable here to connect with new people: friends, family. even beloved animals. Receiving loving energy from other people or areas of your life can be beneficial to your healing process.

explore more, have a snack with a friend, visit family, pet a beloved animal, whatever you want. take yourself for going out.

If you like the idea, talk to your partner about it, about forgiveness and each other being able to have a good moment of individuality if this is your case (or one of these is your case).

I wish all the best! Seek professional help if necessary. take good care of yourself.

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

pile 3 - singles -

oh! sharpen mind! good!

38 - lizard - make your dream come true

Ask yourself what your ideal life, your ideal relationship, would be like. How can you contribute to your good dreams right now?

12 - canary - sing your own song

invest in self-love and listening to yourself

queen of spades - again, assertiveness and honesty in your reading. Don't accept less than you deserve and speak for yourself when you want/necessary

10 of swords - if you want, heal yourself from past pains; as with good physical and mental rest

hope you be a lot of happy!

-----

in a relationship -

31 - groundhog - time to forget

24 - eel - bring your ideas to life

the advice in the cards is to learn to also listen to your voice in the relationship, also value yourself, your ideas. You are also a person who deserves to be heard and valued. Another piece of advice from the cards is to learn to forgive and be forgiven. These achievements, improving the relationship, if you wish, can be done with a little more self-love, investigation of your own feelings, desires, needs and ideas. Don't feel alone and seek help if necessary and desired. open and calm communication, preferably, about these important issues such as forgiveness, emotional responsibility, etc., can help your relationship if that is the need. remember that you are important and valid.

If necessary, seek professional help and be very happy, giving yourself more peace and a voice.

[lllunaverde]

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

“I want to swallow you, have you melt into me and flow through my veins." The Vegetarian, Han Kang

Everything he feels seeping in. Surfacing from the depths of the beginning. It's heavy. Deeper than he thought he could have carried in such a short time. It's terrifying. He welcomes it freely.

CW: 6k wc. nsfw. established relationship. NOTES: please always read my general rules first. reposting my old works. I've yet to read 'the vegetarian', but I am aware that the novel is quite horrific as others have said. And using the passage would be out of context, but I couldn't help it, when I saw that words while having this piece in my drafts, I knew i just had to do it. ©lllunaverde, september 2023-december 2023

God. Gods. Angels. Saints. To Osamu, he's unsure if he believes in them. Maybe he does. Maybe.

He's not religious, you've found him to be. But these days, he's making you question so.

Few days of being truly together. Blissful kisses. Sex here and there. He cares for you truly, you know and feel this. He feels for you. You never doubted him the very first moment he made himself known in your life.

From the ardor in his eyes that you saw by how entranced he was looking at you the first time you felt he felt for you. From how firmly but tenderly he always hold your hand to fall his lips on your knuckles before anything else. From the way his eyes closes as he does so, or even more so how he hold his gaze to you when he does it.

From how tired he is at the end of his work, he still makes you a fresh batch of your favorites before you see each other at the end of the day or night. From how you can see the light in his gray eyes whenever you happily eat his food.

You never doubted him, not even when he has yet to say those three delcaring words. He has already uttered such loving words to reflect it. Always. You never doubted him.

And how could you ever ever doubt him--as he has his big hand on your neck, his fingers grasping up until on your plump cheek to take your lips for his own. Drinking the wetness of your mouth to your sounds as he moves his lips and tongue against your own in a way that always has your chest heaving while he doesn't seem to be affected at all as he only hums deeply as calmly--a stark contrast to your soft whimpers, despite the hardness of his erection on your behind.

His big and strong hand holds the round of your stomach against the fabric of your top, him having you from behind is always a delight to him; all the fat and softness of what you have melts onto him, a welcome to the edges he has. A home he's found that he always enclosed with open arms.

A deep breath you let out from your mouth when he finally pulls away, mouths dripping with drools. Osamu takes his breath back by burying his face on your neck, nose and wet lips pressed so against on you, his air so hot on your skin. Hearts thundering against one another.

Finding your voice, before it further unfolds to resulting taking too much time. "We should go now," you say, a little breathy. It fell nothing to his ears.

What didn't fall nothing to your ears is a deep hum that contracted in his throat as his hand squeezed some of your fat on your belly. "Samu," you breathe. Both of you knowing what that all means. But it's always nothing to him. Yet you always still try. A game between you two. Almost.

His mouth begins to move, lips dragging greedily on your skin, the sweetness of what you routinely used melts in his palate. It fuels his need to taste you more, the very taste of you, always.

A hand of his on your neck goes wrapping around your throat firmly, fingers pressing down that your breath hitched as his mouth slides down to your shoulder. Having worn an off-shoulder top gave him access to all what he's doing right now. And you know you wouldn't be wearing clothes that shows skin as whenever this happens, you're always marked. He can't help it. He doesn't want to. To see all what he leaves on you always pleases him. A reminder you're his.

Osamu bites down on the supple flesh all over, wanting to feel the warmth and goodness of your fat in his mouth, inhaling and swallowing each bite, grunts and groans leaving him. He squeezes your throat and breast at the same time, resulting a strained whimper from you, the tightness of his hold on your throat contracts in you, heavy pain of pleasure there to going down your cunt.

"Stay still," he murmurs deeply in between the ministrations of his mouth on you as he squeezed your throat and breast again. It isn't a question nor plea. A command.

It has your cunt fluttering the same of your heart.

Pants of breath, slowly, you calmed your slight squirming against behind him, your right hand that was on his nape never leaves there holding onto him as lifeline. His arm around you that still holds your breast tightly began to squeeze you to him. His cock that was hardened the moment his lips met yours, tight against his pants, pressing on your ass twitching. Your short and tight skirt riding up higher, showing your cheeks, prettily hugged in your white stockings and black panties. "What you do to me." His dripping mouth now on your ear, low and breathy resonates through you, your body shuddering with a whimper once more. "Every. damn. time," he groans each hard hump he made on your ass-friction against his clothed cock and your thinly covered ass, so hot and strained.

His hand stays restraining your throat as the other slowly comes down between your thighs, squeezing you there before slipping his hand in and cupped your mound. Your body flinching slightly with a soft gasp leaving you. His face heavy on your cheek, minty breath reaching your nose and mouth. "Open your legs." A moan escapes you as he speaks, his demands always has you uttering sounds, whether it's the futile denial or meek obedience. At times like this, it's always both.

Your skirt rides up even higher as you opened your legs more, muscles in your limbs beginning to twitch as his palm stays cupping you. Two of his fingers pressing hardly on your cunt against your stockings and panty as he rubs you, wiggling them to squish in your folds, your clit being found and assaulted then. Your wetness spreading and seeps through. "Samu." You moan, your head lazily leaning on him, eyes turning heavy, nails lightly digging on the skin of his nape.

"Need me?" He asks as his tongue slides to the corner of your mouth, dragging that damn muscle to your cheek until to your ear, his saliva painting your skin--already knowing your answer. His digits being drenched by your slick the more he rubs your cunt. He just can't get enough of you. He never could.

"We need to go." It just pleases him more whenever you deny him, well, at least you try to.

And it always fails. ''Wrong answer." But it's the right one for him to keep going. It always is. It just makes his endeavors more pleasurable than it already is.

Just how could you doubt him when he now kneels behind you, his face etched on the back of your thighs, fingers gripping them tightly between your inner thighs. Nuzzling on your fat flesh all over. His eyes drinking in the above him, ass cheeks tight on your black panties against your stockings. He'd tear your stockings if he could and he could, easily so by just his teeth but he doesn't want to piss you off (he does, as always) he just knows you love the outfit you're wearing and he can't have his beloved sad at him. So he makes do with trailing soft kisses on you, his drool leaving of its little marks. Inching up his face by nuzzling on you again. Up, up, up until it reached your ass, nuzzling his face once more.

You have no choice but to stand the there and let him. His lips you feel, his hot breath, the littlest drop of his drools seeping in the thin material. Your hand finding its way to his hair, lightly gripping it as his own two grips your cheeks, spreading them apart. A gasp left you, "Samu-" Your cunt was suddenly licked, hard, tongue wide flat and dragged it slow until to the slit of your ass. Your slick thick on his tongue and he swallows with a guttural grunt, savoring what he can have for now. "How do you expect me to stop when you're fucking dripping."

His damn head buried beneath your ass, panties and stockings just tightly hang low under his chin—as he devoured your cunt from behind, still standing in your heels, no less.

Not a single drop was wasted. Limbs trembling and all as he still held a tight grip on you while he eases your high. His hands so gentle then as he put back on your clothes below you.

Suffice to say, your man was satisfied enough to let both yourselves go out already. And he was more than satisfied. Smug as hell as you sit besides each other along with his parents for a dinner, with his twin, no less—that you have no doubt the said bastard had a feeling something happened between you two before going to their family home. Atsumu can see it in Osamu's eyes after all, something like this is not new.

The lingering taste of your cunt still there in his mouth.

He's a man of unquenchable thirst.

And of selfishness.

You never miss the glint of immediate displeasure in his eyes when someone takes notice of you long enough for him to catch them. And certainly not when his arm secures around you more, and how could anyone miss the moment of him holding your face up to land a firm and long kiss on your mouth.

He's a man. What can he do when someone is staring at you like he isn't there? And he does it proudly if not even pissed off. He just can't help it, really, even to your friends or closest ones. Seeing them near you, when he's with you, before you could free yourself from his grasp to greet them, his fingers twitch, his hold suddenly tightening—knowing you always greet them with a hug or a kiss on the cheek. It's nothing, but he can't help it.

And he couldn't help but be filled with that selfishness when you told him such a thing; that you'll visit your friend to another country, by yourself, no less. Even if it's only for a day. It filled him with dread.

But still, he allowed you, reluctantly so. You know he didn't want you to go, so you didn't. You didn't want to ruin your short trip while thinking of your man with the state you're both in.

Arguments, it rarely happens. That one wouldn't even count as one. A lesser misunderstanding. Jealousy. That much you already know of Osamu anyway. There's times when you almost feel giddy at his blatant displays of jealousy, but suppose the opposite to it is normal as well--just like right now.

As you sit alone on the floor of your apartment, while you paint, the night young--your heart heavy. And it skipped when you heard the door opened, those familiar heavy footsteps coming close.

As much as you wanted comfort, you weren't ready to see your man again. However, he is. As surprised as he was you were in your home....you didn't go—only then he realized, he messed up.

Osamu sighs as he walks in the living room, seeing your form there, quiet and unmoving but just the strokes of your paint brush, his steps grew light with each of it he takes as his heart sinks more.

There, he sits behind you, his arms immediately but gently as ever wraps around your stomach, hearing the soft hitching of your breath as he enclosed himself behind you, falling his face on your neck.

Your hand stops moving along the canvas, the paint brush just softly dangling between your fingers as you blankly stare at the colorful frame. His weight heavy on you as he holds you tight, yet your heart begins to unburden itself. You breathe, easing yourself as you feel the blues let go from you by his comfort. Gently laying your left hand on his arm and he let out a deep breath, holding you even tighter but so at ease. His breathing hot on your skin, the beating of his heart calm but deep and strong against your back. Silence remains as the long seconds passes by.

Osamu can be a man of words, he's not afraid nor hesitant to say what he thinks or what he truly means, but in this moment, he knows there's nothing needed to be said more than—"I'm sorry." His voice in a deep murmur.

Your head tuts aside gently, the blankness of your gaze melting soft as your hand on his arm then begins to merely caress him there. "I know." Is what you only say.

Osamu breathes out a hum deeply as he nuzzles his face on your neck, inching himself up to your chin to the side of your face, inhaling you. It's only been a mere day and yet he misses you so much. His heart begins to race despite the calmness of the moment, it never failed to do so whenever he holds you, but maybe an exception tonight as knowing his mistake was gracefully forgiven. Nevertheless, it took him a few more push for him to say his remaining gnawing thoughts. Fingers pressing on your stomach, his mouth beginning to caress your cheek. "Thank you for not going. And I'm sorry because of it." He tells softly in between in the trailing of his lips on you.

Your lips could almost smile but it didn't as they remain as calm, nonetheless, your eyes melt more and more to its fondness for him. Again, "I know." Is what you only say. Gently, your head falls to his own as he then stops kissing you to lean and nuzzle his head onto your own. Your caressing hand on him never stops, eyes closed and hearts near to beating the same way as silence made itself known again.

All that burdens you both fades into something more to be easily carried despite its heaviness.

Osamu speaks then, as softly, "Can you turn around?"

You did so, and now you face each other close while still sitting on the floor. His hands finding your own as he never breaks gaze with you, drinking you in at last once again. How he missed you, the amount of time to him is nonexistent.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

How deep his eyes for you always threaten you to look away, but you never do; seeing what you think you are, the parts of you that gnaws you--afraid of you to see that in his very eyes. And he does. He has before. And always will. Before you could turn your eyes away from him, you see the adoration in them, just as the first time you saw them in him, for you.

"I am now," you answer, your voice just as soft.

"When will you go again?" He asks once more.

Your gazes remains held, you couldn't bear to look away. "Maybe soon," you answer simply and he nods. Before he let go of your one hand, trailing it up to your neck so as to pull you closer for him to press a kiss on your forehead.

"Ya better bring home lots of souvenirs," he remarks, his face still close to you. You only laugh so breathlessly against his cheek and he smiles, his cheek rising against your mouth, few tears falling from your eyes and rolls down on him. His smile doesn't falter nonetheless. Happy you were both. "I missed you."

"'ve missed ya, too." He spoke clearly, before he pulls away lightly to take a look at you again. You gaze at each other once more, letting go of your held hands so as for him to cradle your face in his hands. His thumbs gently wiping your tears away.

He'll make it up to you. He doesn't need to say it because he will.

Your eyes stays as glazed while his own as calm and of that lazy look. The roughness of his hands sculpts against your tears stained chubby cheeks.

He doesn't know who to thank for such a blessing. To have a beloved gaze upon you like the way you give your eyes to him. But there you are anyways. So he figures, it's only you to thank for.

"Beautiful," Osamu spoke. It took a lot from you to not tear off your face from his grasp, let alone his boring gaze.

"Don't," you try. Of course, yet again, he didn't listen.

"Lovely." As a thumb of his softly glides on your lips.

"Stop."

"Pretty."

He strips you off with only his eyes, washing your doubts you didn't even know that was there. "Osamu."

"Mine," he murmurs as his thumb slides in your mouth, dragging it down gently on your teeth up front open, reaching until it presses on your tongue. Your mouth agape by the finger, your gaze close to turning little, your breath hitching. "Pretty." He breathes, his head tilting as his eyes never parts from you—sliding his thumb even further, "Like this." The smallest of whimper escaping you and you saw how his jaw clenched at that, a rough breathing sound following from his throat.

The view before him is new. Good. Saliva begins to gather more in your mouth, he feels and sees. He'd want to see you like that more often, satisfying to his eyes, a good way to keep his fingers warm as well. He keeps his finger pressing there, only staring at you, staring at how your drool pools more in your cavern, little drops of it escaping from your lips, rolling down to your chin.

Yeah, he'll really want to see and have you more the way he is doing right now.

And you can't deny the goodness of the slow moment you both are having. How you let yourself be gazed upon in such a way.

While Osamu's heart begins to waver of that steady rhythm the longer he made you remain in the state you're in. Everything he feels seeping in. Surfacing from the depths of the beginning of you both. It's heavy. Deeper than he thought he could have carried in such a short time.

It's terrifying. He welcomes it freely.

Slowly, he retracts his thumb, a thin line of saliva following and a sheet of it covers his finger as he lays it on just your chin--before he kisses you.

Slow and gentle. His first kiss of the day he takes, the first kiss you share after you both made up, the first kiss you share with the revelation found in him--unbeknownst to you. Osamu kisses you as if it was his last to be. He gives and holds his kiss deeply, lasting. A way to be heard of his specifically unspoken words for now.

However, you remain to be blissfully unaware of it; seeing this of nothing new as it's normal for you for him to be like that--and he knows. So it wouldn't be too long for him change that.

As you pull away, a little breathless, blinking the fluster away in your eyes. "I should fix this up and prepare for dinner." You said. Reluctantly but he doesn't let you feel it, he lets you free yourself from his arms as you stand up. Osamu keeps his eyes on you gather the art materials you've used.

As much as he would always praise what you create, as much as he'd always think it to be beautiful of whatever you make--the art is already before his eyes, not on the frame.

He does what he does whenever he takes you in, how an admirer would be in art gallery. Quiet. Intent. Deep.

Flesh rippling with every little move you make. Your round upper body snuggled well by your little top, breasts hanging free against the fabric, as well as showing a little of the fat of your tummy. Your bloomers too short and tight on you. A wonder for him. Your ever wide thighs. Dent and marks painted on your skin. Along that, he sees what his mouth and fingers left on you from before a few days. Even more beautiful with what he marks on you. He'll always prefer you to be marked by him.

"If you're done staring at me." Your voice breaks him out of his trance.

"I won't ever be." He replies simply.

A little laugh you echo at that while you walk back to him, now standing in front of him as he remains sitting there with his legs crossed on the floor.

You above him is divine to be. Maybe he's religious as he wonders so. At least when he gazes up at you while you look down upon him. A goddess of his.

Both of your hands comes to one another on your bodies; yours on his hair and face, while his on your legs. You'd be lying to yourself if you say you didn't like it when he's beneath you. At times like this, is where you question where he lies on higher beliefs--because the way he offers his eyes to you.....could be described as when one worships their divine being.

Osamu sees the little rose of your chest with your mouth parting ever so slightly, the gentle wonder in your eyes. He can't get enough of it.

Finding your voice, "What do you wanna have for dinner?" You asked, gently petting his hair and caressed his cheek.

A deep but short breath he took as he welcomes your doting on him. His fingers firmly caressing on your legs, slowly working their way up. "Ya know the answer to that." You wonder why you still asked.

You didn't roll your eyes instead you narrowed them, "I'm serious." It was hard to be as his hands crept up higher, reaching to your thighs, tingling sensations coming through.

He almost smiled. "So am I."

"You're so annoying." You sighed, raking your fingers through his hair. Such happiness in the little moment you both have.

Such happiness.

Maybe it was time.

"Osamu—"

"I love you."

Your voices met one another, his just with more.......conviction. You faltered. He didn't. He doesn't. He remains steeled just of his resolve.

The soft disbelief on you. You didn't know if you ever hoped for him to say it sooner, there wasn't anything bad if he didn't say it for the mean time either, but--the joy that blooms in you couldn't be brighter. Such simple words, how heavy it tolls on you.

Your hands gently cupped his face, still as silent you were, the words you were about to say now lost. Osamu nestles his head on your palms, never breaking gaze. He feeds off the awe you uncontrollably portray. He'll do anything so as to have you keep doing that only for him. The way your nose takes a breath, going from your mouth with your chest following as it rise, your voice remaining unfound. It's addicting to see those little things. and it's freeing to say those words, so he says it again. "I love you."

Heavily dazed but ever awake, your eyes never dare to blink, tears starting to sting, the walls of your throat threatening to crumble.

Osamu feels every little twitch. Feels it all. He wants more. He stays nestling his head on your palms, keeping his smile at bay with his unfazed look. "I love you." His voice now bright.

An ask to be answered.

Your tears fell, blinking slowly as you broke from your trance with a broken smile and breathless laughter. You cradle his face so lovingly as he held you the same. His arms tightly hugging your legs, hands gripping your thighs. Loved. And there your answer for him. with little more breaths, carrying the weight of all what you feel--"I love you." Voice almost to nothing from how breathless it was, nevertheless it graces his ears, finally letting his smile move on his lips.

"Again." It's sweet. Too sweet how you ever so slowly lit up as he said that.

"I love you." He can't stop himself from smiling more as you repeat them, his cheeks growing in your palms. Too rare. A smile of his that makes your heart hurt every time. Lips etched up lazily, little of his teeth showing.

"Again."

"I love you."

At the same time again.

You didn't think that his smile couldn't get bigger but it did. It's brighter than you ever seen before from him.

While he stays high in your gaze.

"I love ya."

"I love you."

He now kneels, never tearing off his hold on you nor of his eyes. Osamu finds that there is glory in kneeling. And if there's anything Osamu loves more than food, it's winning. So he reigns in victory as he kneels before you.

So you let him have what he wants—his dinner.

Letting go of his face, he gently dives down on your legs, falling his lips there all over. "I love you," he murmurs with each breath he takes on your skin. "I love you." His hands squeezes your thighs repeatedly while your keeps caressing his hair. "I love you." His eyes began to flutter heavily, never stopping of working his mouth on you, dizzying himself by you. "I love you." He groans, his voice dragging deeply as he drags his face all over your flesh.

You could only look down at him as he tranced himself, look at him so fondly as he indulges himself, seeing him deeply enjoying of what he does—you let yourself feel all what you've been feeling since the moment he held you. Heat brewing in your belly, melting down into your cunt, slicking through your folds, soaking a little sticky patch in your panties.

It wouldn't be too long for him to feast upon it.

And he knows. Osamu already knew your body was working even before he began, his meal prepared for him. "Fuck, I love you." In a loud groan, he breathes as he pressed his face on your thigh again, firmly rubbing his cheeks there. His hands holding onto the back of your thighs goes up ever slowly to your ass--a deep hitch of breath you inhale. He slides in through your shorts and panties, fingers strongly massaging your ass cheeks, while he keeps making a mess down on you.

"Fuckin' love yer thighs so much," he swore, his voice gone rougher from his never ending groans that he moans. Although that much has been known between you both he never gets used to it, nor do you. Not when he relishes his teeth on your fat with each bite. It's almost no different from a beast breaking its fangs through its prey to feed.

His sheer thirst he strongly satiate has your cunt aching so much, but still, you let him enjoy more a little longer. Keeping in your plea with your breathy sounds of elation. And despite how deep Osamu is in indulging himself, he knows your needs, though that's in the back of his mind for now--eyes dead set on the abundant offering for him. The last feast he'll have for later.

A mistake of thought you had.

For now, he continues to worship your thighs. Thick trails of his saliva from strings to drops dribbling down. No territory left unexplored as he takes the back of your limbs as well. Your hands in his hair keeps on shaking, your lower body twitching, trying not to flinch away from him.

Even then, he only continues to repeat what he's been doing. Nuzzling and rubbing his face all over so harshly, inhaling roughly while he licks his tongue with each move. His groping hands on your ass not stopping as well. He's too much all at once. Standing again, no less.

If not for Osamu's strength, you would have been long lying on the floor. Still, he continues for more, your wordless whines for him to stop unheard, muted by his own hungry sounds.

By now you're a leaking mess, not of just your pussy completely soaked, but your limbs covered with sheet of sweat along with his drool everywhere. Even his face you see and feel that it's wet, of course, he couldn't care less. The flesh of your ass sore, thighs and legs all marked up, muscles already hurting.

In the short time of you and him being together, he was never this....eager, much more eager, that is. And he's only beginning. No mistake this time, you could already tell that when he actually begin you'll lose your damn mind--and you're about to.

As when you managed to pry off his face away from your thighs, your palms on his cheek again, looking at him. His hair so disheveled, pupils blown yet his eyes more droopy than usual, while he breathes so deeply and rough from his mouth, all over his face drips of his drool, his sweat and your own.

"My darling." You utter so breathily, a thumb of yours gently gliding on his chin to his lips, smearing the wetness on him there even more. So much for calming him down. If anything, he's getting worse. He's a babbling mess and when he's like that, there's no fight against it.

"Can I eat ya, angel?" He says as he keeps licking your thumb. The man has you gulping and breathing in the same state of his hunger with your awe to his needs. His want. "Please, sweetheart—need to have yer pussy s'bad. Can I, angel?" His eyes darted from your own to your cunt so close to his face.

Your breath and spit caught in your throat--you nod once. "Yeah, baby?" Your damn poor heart so tired from its jumping because of him.

He's already back at it. Kissing your thighs again before slowly pulling down your shorts--leaving you only in your panties, showing how damp your center is. "Fuck." He breathes in a rough groan as he beholds your mess.

"Only mine--"

"Always." Your voice managed to murmur amidst.

His gaze shooting up to you, as deeply. "I love you." He declared once again before he finally goes to his feast.

Never having yourself prepared for it.

Osamu's face buried up against your cunt, inhaling you so deep from his nose to his mouth, little slicks of your arousal he begins to taste, his soaked mouth wetting you more, eyes rolling back to his head. With your fingers immediately grasping on his hair, tightly pulling on it with a loud gasp flying out of you. Ever sensitive you are, and Osamu already so familiar with your body. Feeling how your clit twitches so slightly like a bunny's tail as his lips confines your cunt, his tongue stroking you so slowly, gathering his spit and your juices—before he gulps it eagerly deep.

"No idea how good you are fer me." He says once he pulls away from you. He's a fucking dog. Heaving for breaths, it'd be no different if his mouth was foaming.

You have no response from that but could only look at him, already overwhelmed from his little start and yet wanting so much more. It goes by unsaid.

Samu's one hand goes to your panty, grasping around in the center and pulled the cloth up tightly, the line slitting through your folds and shows your hair painted of your wetness there. His teeth finding his lip as he does so, your clit and hole fluttering from the small but impactful tease. "Samu..." You whined, almost.

Not minding it, not caring from how you're gripping his hair, "So fucking pretty." He murmurs as he toys with your damn cunt by pulling on your panty continously. You'd gape at him for how almost ridiculous what he was doing if not of you finding it so good to see, let alone feel.

Your calls of his name just slipping out of his ears, continuing what he does. "Look at ya." Barely a whisper from him as he let go of your panty, now laying his thumb on your slit to your clit, rubbing it against the wet fabric. You hissed a breath, bearing his not so tease, knowing how he can be just so entranced with what he does. "Fuck." He curses again while he keeps the pad of his digit rubbing hard on your cunt, before eyeing at the string of your slick from your mound to his thumb as he slowly stops.

Finally, your body eases in his hold, already worn out. "Shit--shit." You whisper to yourself, from your weakened state and knowing what was to come next.

You liked him below you as he praises you, yes, but you couldn't deny that were was so much struggle with his found liking for the specific position; having to bear the tiredness off yourself along with so much pleasure to it. Especially by how he was far into it. Your little hole parted open by two of his fingers as his tongue glides in halfway through your walls, while his lips suckles on your folds sloppily. 

Osamu finds himself swimming in the ocean without a care for time, nor of anything, not even of your sounds of ache to come to finally be done, let alone how much you've been trembling in his hold. There's just so much to revel in his love for you through his worship. Such a thing should never be rushed just for the sake of satisfaction. He intends to grasp and freeze this bliss, for you to always have him engraved in the very depths of your being.

With hooded eyes, he looks up at you and sees how much of a mess you are. Still, he only remains the same of his slow but hard pace, only making the knot of your release just boiling as he keeps his tight hold on you, not even letting you move against nor away from him. But, seeing your continously flowing tears and hearing your endless whines, is very much of a reward for him anew. So, "Grind on me."

And that was all that it fucking took for you to finally break. Lost in your tiredness and ache for relief; you do what he said--grind on his damn mouth. Letting yourself use him so desperately, the way he wants you to. Your fingers have never let go of his hair from the start, pulling on it so much repeatedly while you move your hips and have your cunt drag hard on him.

He flows against your rapid waves easily, at last meeting your desperation by his unwavering conviction. No uncharted waters could prevent him from taking up eternity with you.

With enough time, from all he's doing and yours, you finally found yourself dropping to the highest edge of pleasure.

In a sea of one could suffocate—Osamu has never breathed so freely.

No, you could never indeed doubt him.

[goneatlas]

i need a jirv gets turned into a vampire AU soooo bad. especially if it's canon setting. especially if it's just him alone who was turned, nobody else.

imagine (well i mean you don't have to imagine this part, it's just who he is even in canon). repressed jirving who is having ""impure thoughts"" about other men. listen it could be anyone take your pick but i'm going with nedward and hodgson here because i like my cringefail terror lieuts ot3 a lot. ofc he's praying to god for forgiveness for the way his mind wanders and he represses that shit all the way down (it doesn't work, obviously. because when has repressing things worked) anyways he's dealing with all that guilt of seeing himself as not beeing good enough in the eyes of god, that maybe he's just a sinner masquerading as a saint, preaching to others in hopes that in saving someone else he would redeem himself in the eyes of god. you know. the usual jirving fare.

and then on watch one night, he gets swiped at by a creature (a vampire) and he doesn't even know what happened because he was knocked out but dr macdonald remarked that it's strange how they found him lying in his own blood, and there's dried blood in his hair and on his clothes, but there were no sign of any injury on him, not a single scratch. he looks paler than usual but that was chalked up to the cold. he gets told to get warmed up and to report if anything changes or if he feels woozy or otherwise. he thinks it's strange but everything feels fine. (of course it's not fine)

later when he reaches for his bible, it burns and he drops it. he reaches to pick it back up but it burns him again. a horrible sinking feeling starts to set in. when he picks up the bible with his scarf, he opens it to read a passage and it makes him physically nauseous. the more he reads the more it feels like he's drowning. he closes the bible and tries to recite a passage from memory, but it's the same thing. the cross burns him too. he tries to pray to god but it tastes like ashes in his mouth.

whatever rations he eats comes back up. he tries to keep them down, he really does, he knows the scarcity of food—he tallies them for god's sake—but he can't. he feels hungry all the time, but nothing he eats stays down. there is a voice in his heading telling him that there's food all around him, he just needs to take it. the voice gets louder when he brushes against one of the crew, or when someone passes him by in the cramped space. he resolutely ignores the thought. his stomach hurts all the time now.

it's funny. but the thing that finally broke him was when he went to clip his hair and trim his beard and found that he has no reflection. he angles the mirror this way and that, nothing. he wipes the mirror clean again and again, nothing. (at this point the realization must've dawned, it should've dawned ages ago, but he won't acknowledge it. to acknowledge it will make it true. it will make it inescapable). at this point he realizes he will no longer be able to groom himself. all the rituals that he holds dear, the ones that make up the shining pillar that guides him in all this chaos and darkness, are now inaccessible to him. he blacks out and comes to behold the broken shards of his mirror, and he thinks he might be crying but his cheeks are dry. there are no tears for him to cry, his new self was not made for that.

sooner or later nedward and hodgson corners him in his cabin. they're concerned for him. as they try to get him to confess what's wrong, the ""impure thoughts"" come back full force. he's just thinking about how nice it would be to be embraced by them. to be held between them, sheltered from the world. to press his face to their shoulders. to turn his face towards their necks. sink in his teeth. taste their warmth on his tongue.

he feels the fangs grow in his mouth. he has to clap a hand on his mouth and turn away from his friends so they wouldn't see the monster he's become. because that's what he is now. he has been spurned by god, damned. he is dead, but he isn't in heaven (why is that a surprise? why does that hurt? he knows his deeds and his sins. he has judged and found himself wanting. maybe it was just that he hoped god would forgive him for all of it anyway). no, he is dead and yet he's forced to live out his life in this hell.

[sissyhopes]

The Trophy

Imagine a gilded cage. Like, really picture one in your head. What do you see?

Me, of course - but what else?

Anything? Some cushions, a little blanket? Entertainment? No? Just a little golden cage, and me?

It's not that different, then, from a regular cage, is it? Just some metal bars, and me - trapped inside.

When I first started working for Harrington & Co, I was eager, hungry for success, and completely unaware of the path life would take me down. I had always known my boss, Max Harrington, by reputation - he was a titan in the finance world, a man whose mere presence commanded respect. I turned down higher-paying jobs for the name recognition alone, hoping his renowned ferocity and charisma would rub off on me.

So, when Max took a special interest in me, I saw it as the break he had been waiting for. Exactly what I deserved.

At first, it was subtle. Appropriate, even. I was a kind of protégé, some middle-ranking grunt he'd seen something extraordinary in. Nobody really questioned it.

Max invited me to dinners with important clients, praising my quick thinking, my easy charm, and how I could hold my own in conversations that usually left junior associates gasping for breath. I felt like I was being groomed for leadership, rather than groomed for submission to him.

I was intoxicated by the attention, the warmth of Max's approval. He had grown up in a modest family. He was just like me: always striving for more. He knew as well as I did that Max Harrington represented the “more” I'd craved my entire life.

I suppose you don't get where he has in life without being able to turn opportunities to maximum advantage. Soon, the invitations became more frequent. Dinners at high-end restaurants turned into weekend getaways to exclusive resorts. He spared no expense, ensuring I experienced the luxury that came with being in his orbit. It was exhilarating at first - flights on private jets, tailored suits, five-star accommodations. I assumed this was part of grooming him for a bigger role in the company. After all, the closer you got to power, the more you absorbed it.

But something shifted. He went distant. Suddenly, I was back at my desk, with everyone else, working hard, with no attention from the big man upstairs. My middling salary couldn't stretch to the luxuries I'd tasted, and I felt the dull thud back to reality daily. Every bland, cheap meal. Every bus journey home from the office. I hungered for a return to the life I had savoured, if only for a brief moment.

I poured over everything I'd said, every action and decision, wondering what I did to lose his favour. I resisted the urge to try to contact him, making myself look needy, powerless - to make him think I'd done something wrong.

One night, after a few too many glasses of wine, and weeks of misery in my boring life, I felt the bravery I'd been lacking. "He'll appreciate me being direct," I told myself. "Just like he is." I texted his personal number, asking if I'd done anything wrong, and imploring him for the chance to prove I was worthy of my place under his wing.

He never responded. It was a bitter defeat, a rejection that undermined my self-confidence totally. I tried to maintain my work, but I was distracted, ashamed and disappointed. My supervisors noticed, and my appraisals reflected that. I knew Mr Harrington read every staff members' appraisals religiously, and knew I had once again let him down. It was a total humiliation - I knew exactly where I belonged.

One evening, after a particularly lavish dinner held to congratulate the management teams for a good year, Max avoided looking at me all evening. Knowing I was the lowest-performing in the team, I felt so unwanted I tried to sneak away earlier. And there he was, at the door, as if he'd anticipated my movements before I'd even decided on them.

He offered me a gift: a custom-made Rolex. “To show my appreciation,” Max said, his smile dripping with an affection that felt almost too personal, too intimate.

I accepted - what choice did I have? - though unease simmered under my gratitude. I brushed it off as some kind of imposter syndrome.

Surely, this was normal. If I wanted to rise to the top, I needed to embrace these perks, right? In any case, it reflected the faintest creaking of the door of opportunity. I knew I had to run through that door while it was still open. I might never get another chance.

The watch was embossed with pink stones around the face, and the band was engraved 'Pretty Baby'. I suppose it was originally a gift for someone else - it wasn't quite my style, and yes: it was a little embarrassing to wear it. But wear it I did: every single day. I wanted everyone else to know that the boss was looking out for me.

Then came the more personal requests. Max asked me to accompany him to exclusive events - not as a colleague, but as his plus-one. I found himself standing at Max's side during charity galas, private art showings, and high-society functions. At first, I convinced himself it was still part of the job, that these were networking opportunities, moments to rub shoulders with the elite.

But over time, I realised something. Max never introduced me as an employee. There was no mention of my work or my potential career progression. Not even my name. My presence became decorative, my role as silent as it was visible. The compliments Max lavished on me became more personal, less professional.

“You look just stunning in that suit,” Max would say, his eyes lingering just a little too long. “You're the perfect companion for these sort of things. I think we can assume - if you're willing, of course - that you'll be accompanying me for the forseeable. I'll have my assistant arrange for some wardrobe support for you. Maybe a stylist. Let's make sure you always look your very best.”

I blushed. It was the first thing he'd said directly to me all evening - the first thing anyone had, in fact. I felt cared for, but not respected. The words flashed across my mind, for the first time in panic. Pretty Baby.

Before I knew it, he was spending more time with Max outside the office than within it. The boundaries had totally blurred without my realising it.

My friends noticed the change. “Man, you've really hit the jackpot, huh?” one had commented, eyeing my expensive, feminine watch, the designer clothes Max had picked out for me as a "reward for all the hard work.”

But inside, I felt a growing discomfort, a sense that something had gone terribly wrong. I guess it was from the discomfort, actually. My suits were increasingly tailored away from my personal style - cinched waists, skinnier trousers with high waists and raised ankles - in pastel colours like baby blue, mauve, and a dusty pink. They felt feminine to me, and the discomfort pulsed through my body. At least nobody expected me to say anything. Just stand next to Max, smiling.

I had entered into this personal relationship with Max - because by now, that’s what it had become - thinking it would propel me forward in my career. But now, two years later, I wasn't any closer to that promotion he had been promised. If I asked, he would just wave away my concerns, like they didn't matter.

"No, no." he'd say, without looking at me. "I don't want you working more. You have an important role to play here."

My 'role' was clear: I was Max's accessory. Some kind of power symbol for him to show off.

The realisation hit him hard one night when they attended a high-profile charity auction. I had spent hours getting ready, picking out the right suit, ensuring my hair - now growing longer, as Mr Harrington instructed - was perfect. As they entered the grand ballroom, heads turned, and Max soaked up the attention as usual. But when people approached them, it was me they noticed.

“You two make such a handsome couple,” one wealthy and highly generous woman said with a wink.

I forced a smile, my stomach knotting as Max wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. It was a gesture too intimate, too possessive.

I wanted to pull away, but the weight of everything Max had given him, the lifestyle I had become so accustomed to, pinned me in place. I realised that somewhere along the line, I'd forgotten how to say no to him.

Now, he knew that too.

In the quiet moments, I wondered when it had all changed. Had there been a moment when I could have stopped this? Should I have walked away before Max’s gifts became chains that bound me to this life? Or had I been a willing participant all along, seduced by the promise of wealth, power, and status?

The trousers were replaced with demure, knee-length pencil skirts. My shirts finally crossed the line into blouses. I wore court shoes, with two inch heels, into the office. My stylist taught me to apply makeup in two styles - office and formal.

Maybe that sounds like the moment I should have jumped off this runaway train, even if it hurt. The thing is: I was so far gone, I already knew my moment had passed. I didn't even know who he was anymore. So I kept letting him tell everyone else who I was, and contorting myself to fit the image.

The eager, ambitious man who had walked into Harrington & Co. two years ago had vanished, replaced by someone who wore expensive gowns, lived alone in a penthouse Max had insisted he move into, and played the role of the doting, adoring partner - though they never acknowledged the term aloud.

My career had become a shadow, something I barely thought about now. I wasn't obliged to come to the office anymore. My days were filled with social obligations, dinners, and luxurious trips with Max. On the outside, it looked perfect - he had everything he had ever wanted. But the cost had been higher than he realised. I had no independence. I had no status of my own. I just hung on his arm, silently, as an object of his power.

Somewhere along the way, I had become a trophy. I could see it in everyone's eyes. Elite circles are small, and so they'd all watched me closely over the years - from a confident, ambitious man, to a demure and silent pet. I knew what they thought of me.

It wasn’t just my professional ambitions that had died. It was my sense of self. The reluctance, the embarrassment that now consumed me was kept buried deep inside, masked behind the practiced, doll-like smile he wore in public. Max never asked if I was happy; he never questioned if I wanted this life. That didn't matter to him, so long as I knew my place and played along.

Now, every morning I wake up in the sprawling penthouse, looking out at the city skyline, and wonder how to pass the time. No work, no real friends, nothing to achieve. No hopes or dreams. Money helps, but the truth would nibble at my flesh constantly - I had traded the man I could have been for the guarantee of luxury, for comfort, for the hollow promise of a womanhood I never wanted, and that depended entirely on his whims.

And in the silence of our opulent life together, in those intimate nights when Mr Harrington accompanies me to my penthouse, in the deafening shadow of the whispers about me from the edges of ballrooms and galas each night, I had come to accept my role: Max’s trophy. Nothing more.

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