#you know they’re going on a Tuesday

[chiliger]

Family trip to the movie theater

[spyderschaos]

Also my US school knowledge comes solely from shows and movies so if smth is wrong it’s either because of shows and movie or because i took it from my school

[graciehart]

How do I already have a coworker I dread working with

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[dihalect]

my only election takes

if harris loses, it will be the fault of her campaign, not of individual voters. and certainly not the fault of individual tumblr users

*puts on my massachusetts hat* fuck beigh steighters for natural medisinn

[sistertotheknowitall]

I love the idea of Danny being just Some Guy.

Like yes he’s Phantom, yes he has ghost powers, yes he’s the King of the Infinite Realms. But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.

They are positively baffled by him. Like he’s completely normal as far as they (and the background check) can see. Yet, he. Is. EVERYWHERE. (Not actually but it sure feels like it.)

The kids have a running bingo card of where he’ll turn up. Outside a warehouse they’re raiding? Check. Stopped a mugging? He was the one being mugged. Tim’s favorite coffee shop? He was just hired as a barista.  Seriously it’s like everytime they turn around he’s there.

Which wouldn’t be such a problem if he REACTED NORMALLY. But no. He doesn’t flee in fear, stare in awe, he doesn’t even try to say thank you. This man looked Batman in the eye and called him the furry vigilante - TO HIS FACE! He casually referred to Dick as “the flying monkey one” to Red Robin while also calling Tim a literal walking Red Flag. When he crosses paths with Duke he doesn’t always speak but he does always give him a snack. (Sometimes it’s candy, sometimes it’s fruit but it’s always food. And he only gives them to Duke.)

He once told Jason that he didn’t care that he was a crime lord and built like a brick house, Danny would kick his ass and drag his “rotted milk soul” too hell if the gun fights kept going on past midnight. (He had exams in the morning damnit.)

He will only call Damian “baby ninja” no matter how many times the kid insists that his name is Robin.

Spoiler and Orphan? The only ones he’s respectful to but even they get the occasional random comment. (“It may be a Tuesday, but if the universe is gonna make me the human equivalent of a pin cushion then I have the right to keep the knife.”) (It was actually a Friday but who were they to argue with a man bleeding out in an alley.)

Eventually the Batkids start keeping score of who has had the most out of pocket thing said to them by this random white boy.

[storusangel]

STUDY SESSIONS

a/n: ohhhh my god, i finally finished this. it's been half finished for months but i did it!! hope you guys enjoy!

cw: fem!reader, dom!satosugu, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, sweet girl), slight petplay (like if you squint really hard), fingering, manhandling, double vag pen., biting, squirting, creampie, oral f!receiving, overstim, aftercare, MINORS DNI

word count: 4.5k

satoru and suguru are the stars of your university.

they have it all — the looks, the grades, the girls (and guys). and in your shared BIO 141 class, better known as your human anatomy and physiology class, they’re known for being top of the class, never having failed an exam. you, however, have been falling behind in that said class. 

but it truly isn’t your fault. you can’t help that the two men sit at a perfect angle for you to gawk and stare at them for the entirety of class. yeah, it’s not your fault at all! in fact, it’s your stupid professor’s fault for placing the two pieces of eye candy directly in your line of view!

it’s tuesday again and your professor is rambling on about the limbic system or something of the sort. you don’t really comprehend what he’s saying because it seems the two pieces of eye candy have gotten matching tattoos. a dark betta fish on suguru’s right bicep and a lighter one on satoru’s left. 

you can’t help but let your mind wander to how those arms would look holding you up as they’re pounding into you. dirty words being whispered into your ear as you try your best to keep up with them. “such a good slut for u-“

your name being called out by your professor yanks you out of your trance. you blink twice, ripping your eyes of the two boys but not before they could catch you staring at them. 

“i asked you a question.”

“s-sorry professor” you wince at how silly you sound stuttering after being caught daydreaming in class.

your professor just sighs and instead of repeating his question, he tells you to stay after class to meet with him. you can feel the eyes of your classmates boring into you, the immature snickers make you want to go back to your dorm and stay there forever.

or better yet, go to satoru and suguru’s shared apartment and let them fuck the embarrassment away.

you shake your head in an attempt to refocus your attention. before you can tune in to what your professor has to say, you see satoru and suguru steal a quick glance at you and whisper to each other. 

“gojo and geto, i’d like you two after class as well”  

once more, the class erupts into whispering to their nearest friend before the professor regains their attention once and for all. you also stop your mind from wandering too far into your daydreams about what could happen after class and return your attention back to the professor who was clearly irritated. 

in an effort to save yourself from embarrassment, you head down to see your professor as soon as class ends to end the conversation before the two boys can tune in. 

“i assume you understand why i wanted to see you?” his voice is sharp, an underlying tone of dissatisfaction.

“yes sir, i know my grade in your class need some work but i will do my best to bring it up” 

his reply is quick. “i know you will because gojo and geto will be tutoring you.”

you truly don’t know how to feel. getting the chance to be around your crushes is both amazing and horrible. thinking about how they definitely know you’ve been staring at them every class makes you feel nauseous. thinking about being perceived isn’t your favorite thing, but thinking about how they’ll be around you, teaching you the course that you’ve completely missed out on due to your very vivid daydreams. 

“wait, what?” god, satoru’s voice sounded much sexier when it was right behind you. 

“you heard me. both of you will be helping her understand her classwork until the end of the semester.” and your professor's voice sounded much scarier when it was in right front of you. “i’ll know if you two have truly put enough effort in when i see her grade on our next exam.”

you’re too ashamed to make eye contact with the two boys, a wave of embarrassment flooding your face knowing that your two crushes now know your biggest academic insecurity. the room is silent until suguru speaks up, “okay, we’ll need your number though” yeah, suguru’s voice was just as sexy as satoru’s. 

you hear your name being called. you finally make eye contact. “sorry, what?” your voice is meek, smaller than you remember it to be. satoru laughs, “your number, sweetheart. so we can set a date for our sessions. you know, the tutoring ones?” satoru calling you sweetheart makes you want to implode, he has to know what he does to you. what they do to you. 

“oh, here” you leave as soon as you give them your number. suguru’s “we’ll text about planning later” giving you the greenlight to get the hell out of there before you somehow manage to embarrass yourself even further.

-

xxx-xxx-xxxx added you and xxx-xxx-xxxx into a chat

unknown: you free this weekend?

you: who is this???

unknown: aw man :( all that staring in class and you can’t even remember who we are, we’re hurt baby

- 

you stare at the message. okay. so you know who it is. and you also know that they know your grades are horrible because you’ve spent almost every class openly drooling over them. no big deal. it’s not like your sessions will be in a private area.

-

unknown: satoru and i talked, we think it’ll be best to tutor you at our place since there’ll be less distractions there.

-

okay then. you’ll just have to work on your nerves before this weekend. you have time. right now you’ll be using that time to try and get over the fact that satoru called you baby.

the next few days pass by a little too slow for your liking but soon you’re getting ready for your date with the two boys. wait, tutoring session with the two boys. you couldn’t help but dress up a little, adding a matching set underneath your skirt and blouse.

-

satoru: i’m outside, come out whenever you’re ready

you: coming out now! which car is yours?

satoru: you’ll know it when you see it ;)

-

you head out slightly confused but when you see a white corvette flashing its blinkers at you, you understand what satoru meant. before you reach his car, satoru gets out to open the door for you. the small giggle you let out doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

a wave of confidence runs through your veins as you tell him he’s “quite the gentlemen” when he buckles your seatbelt for you before sitting in the driver's seat himself. his response is a quick wink and then you two are off to their apartment. you try not to stare too hard at him throughout the ride but you can’t help but let yourself indulge in a few glances that lasted longer than they should’ve.

soon enough you two have reached the apartment and satoru parks the car. this time you don’t hide your staring. his effortless moves have you squeezing your thighs together. why is this turning you on??? you have got to be ovulating. 

satoru calls out your name. “you ready?” you blink. “o-oh, yeah i’m ready.” he grins and unbuckles you before sliding out the car to open your door. their apartment is cleaner than you expected, and also way larger than you expected it to be. “you finally back satoru?” you turn around to see suguru in sweatpants and stark contrast to satoru’s shorts. “hi, thanks again for tutoring me” you say. they both let out a soft chuckle and suguru returns the greeting.

they show you to a room that you truly didn’t expect for them to have in their place. there’s a shelf stacked with different books and another bigger one beside it with their trophies. there are two desks but one of them is currently situated with three chairs. you’re deep in thought about how you would love to be bent over the desks as the two boys make you take them over and over and over again.

this time it’s suguru calling your name to draw you out of your daydream. “you can take a seat on the middle chair. do you have anything in specific that you need help understanding?” oh right, you came here to be tutored. “um, everything? well not like everything but maybe the latest subject? i haven’t had the time to actually go over the notes i took.” 

a lie, you didn’t take any notes. your notebook is filled with small doodles and occasionally a sentence from a slide the professor left on the screen for too long. you place your hands in your lap when the two boys take a seat on either side of you. “no need to be nervous, sweetheart. we’re here to help you.” satoru has got to know that him and his stupidly attractive voice aren’t helping you and you want to turn to suguru for help but he’s just as bad. “he’s right, pretty girl. you’ve got to relax, you won’t be able to remember anything when you’re shaking like that.”

to make it even worse, they each place a hand on your bare thighs. satoru rubs his soft fingers up and down while suguru squeezes your thigh gently before using a thumb to make circular motions in a single spot. you can feel your body heating up and it takes everything in you to not squeeze your thighs together because it would make your want need for them way too obvious and quite frankly, you’re still embarrassed they caught you staring.

satoru makes eye contact with suguru, a silent communication between the two of them. he gives your thigh a gentle pat before he starts to speak. “do you work better with rewards, baby?” you turn to look at him. you aren’t sure what he means exactly and you’re feeling a little overstimulated by all the touching, the pet names, and their attention in general. you’re by no means a virgin, though you aren’t too far from it, but for some reason they make you so nervous you can’t think straight. 

suguru says your name in a voice that sounds like it’s reserved for scolding puppies but right now it just turns you on even more than you are. “answer satoru, he’s not big on being ignored” apparently you don’t turn your head fast enough because satoru’s hand moves from your thigh to grasp your face gently, but not too gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “he’s right, baby. i don’t want to be rough with you just yet. i’m gonna ask again and i expect an answer. would you like us to give you rewards?” despite his words being slightly threatening, you bite your lip to hold back a whine. you squeak out a “yes please” and return to suppressing your whines because suguru still has moved his hand further up your skirt, his fingers grazing dangerously close to your soaked slit. 

“good girl. now let's get started” satoru removes his hand from your jaw but suguru only moves his hand back down to your lower thigh, giving you one more squeeze. the tutoring session goes something like this; suguru and satoru take turns explaining different topics covered during your last class. once they’re done, satoru quizzes you. everytime you answer correctly, suguru moves his hand up and satoru praises you. but every time you fail to answer a question correctly or fast enough, suguru slips his hand away and satoru reminds you that “only smart girls get rewards”. 

this method seems to work because you’re starting to answer correctly more often until you’re only answering correctly and suguru’s fingers are grazing your panties. “oh, she’s soaked, satoru. i think this sweet thing deserves a bigger reward. she’s been listening so well” a small whimper leaves your lips and you turn your head to satoru, your eyes begging for something more than some light touches accompanied by a few praises. 

to prove his point even further you really do start to beg. “please satoru, i need it so bad. ‘ve been so good, please” you can tell it works because he immediately coos at you. “d’awh, i think she deserves a reward too, suguru. we should give it to her” and with that satoru leans in, pressing his lips into yours. his soft, pillowy lips against yours make you almost forget suguru’s hands are on your panties.

almost. 

suguru pulls your panties to the side, raking his middle and ring finger through your folds, collecting your slick. he traces them downwards before bringing them back up to circle around your clit once, twice, three times and then he repeats the process. once he’s deemed his fingers wet enough, he slips one in pumping and curling wasting no time before adding in a second one. 

kissing down your neck, satoru rips your blouse open and pushes your bra down. lithe fingers trace around your nipple making you arch into satoru. you let out a breathy moan into satoru’s mouth, followed by more whines when suguru adds a third finger and starts to scissor them to stretch you out. you can feel satoru smirk against your lips when you start to struggle to kiss back. 

satoru removes his mouth from you, drinking in the sight of you. the sweet, shy girl in their class who couldn’t help but keep her eyes off of the two boys. the same girl who struggled to keep eye contact and who was barely vocal when they were present is now writhing in their chair. your back arching into satoru, a silent plea for him to keep touching you. and your hips grinding on suguru’s fingers, begging him to keep going. 

and most importantly, your voice has finally found itself to be heard. your pleas of “can’t, ‘s too much” and “wan’ more, please don’t stop, please” echo throughout the room. satoru takes two of his own fingers and pats them on your lips, a signal for you to open your mouth. you comply, wishing they would keep praising you. as if he can hear your thoughts, satoru mutters a “atta girl” when he slips his fingers into your mouth. 

he lets them hit the back of your throat a few times and when you gag, he pulls them back. not entirely, but just enough so that you’re still drooling on them but aren’t entirely gagging. he moves his fingers in a scissoring motion for some time and then he pulls them out. before you can even think about missing his fingers in your mouth, he moves them down to your clit, rubbing calculated circles. 

suguru moves his fingers faster, curling them upwards till they hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “i think our sweet girls about to cum, satoru” suguru breaks the silence between him and satoru. “i think so too” you can’t tell if it’s the way they’re talking about you as if you weren’t there but you cum the second the two speak, your body shaking as they help you ride it out. suguru shallowly pumping his fingers in while satoru slows his circles on your clit. suguru leans in to give you a kiss, his lips doing most of the work as your body recovers from your mindblowing orgasm. 

you yelp into suguru’s mouth when satoru pats your clit a little too hard. you want to say something but he taps your clit one more time before watching more slick dribble out of your cunt and onto the chair. suguru is the first to speak. his lips trail towards your ear leaving soft kisses in each place he covers. “you did so well for us, sweetheart. how’re you feeling?” as he speaks, satoru wipes the tears from your eyes and rubs comforting circles on your cheek.

your heart throbs at the attention. you understand what suguru is asking; are you still up for more? or are you done for the time being? you bite your lip before you speak.

“m-more, please. want more. want both of you. please.” satoru places a gentle kiss on your lips. “you’re so good for us, baby. a perfect listener. you think you can take us both? you think your tight little hole can fit both of us?” you moan out loud at his words.

“i don’t know, satoru. she might not be able to handle us.” suguru’s teasing you and you know it, but you don’t care. the thought of them leaving you so wet and needy for them may have your cunt clenching on nothing but you think you might die if you don’t feel them stretching you out.

“nonono, please. please don’t. need it so bad. need you two so bad. wan’ your cocks in me, now. don’t care if it hurts” you think you might’ve broken them because now it’s them who can’t wait till you're done speaking. 

suguru stands up, dragging you up with him before he rips your panties off in one go. satoru, now standing behind you, is pushing your skirt as far up as it can go before pulling his dick out of his pants. suguru following his lead. 

they each keep one hand on a hip, keeping you upright. you feel satoru slip his dick between your folds from behind you, coating himself in your slick before pushing the tip into you. “oh, fuck. satoru, you’re so big” you hear suguru groan from in front of you. he’s using the same hand he fingered you with to stroke himself, waiting for you to adjust to satoru. 

satoru slowly pushes all the way in, stopping every inch or so when you let out a whine of discomfort. “breathe, baby. breathe” satoru may think he’s helping but his velvety voice in your ear is only turning you on more. your pussy doing anything but loosening up. after some time, you slowly grind your hips back onto him, letting him know you’re ready for him to move.

he starts with shallow thrusts and soon he’s going all the way back out before slamming his hips forward. your body shakes in their arms. you’re sure if they let go, you’d fall onto the floor. satoru’s pace doesn’t stay that way forever, though. you cry out a “s’toru, mo-move please” when you feel him slow his thrusts until he comes to a complete stop. 

“shhh, baby. suguru needs to feel you too, doesn’t he?” your eyes widen. you recall your words from earlier, you still want them more than anything but a feeling of uncertainty hits you. as if they can feel your unease, satoru nuzzles his nose into your neck while suguru rubs comforting circles into your hip. suguru gives you a kiss, wet and open mouthed. “you’ve been so good for us, yeah? we’ll take care of you” suguru whispers in your ear. his voice makes you clench harder around satoru.

you know satoru felt it because his mouth hasn’t left your neck and you can feel a grin spreading on his face. “we’ll go slow for you, sweetheart. you don’t need to do anything but be good for us. you can do that, right baby?” they wait for your response. though they’re both aching to be inside of you, they want to make sure you feel the same.

the room is silent when you speak. “p-please, wanna’ be your good girl” and they’re off. satoru stays still inside of you, instead moving one arm to wrap around your waist and his other hand to spread your pussy for suguru. “you gotta relax, sweet girl. there’s no way suguru’s gonna fit when you’re clenching down on me like that” suguru chuckles at the other man's words before he starts to squeeze his way in. satoru moves the fingers that were spreading you open to your clit, rubbing circles as suguru continues to push himself inside of you. 

your whines only get louder when they’re both finally inside of you. suguru is the first to speak. “you look so pretty like this. all stretched out on our dicks. i think we should keep her satoru.” satoru hums in agreement. “i think we should too. it’d be so nice to come home to her waiting so patiently for us to fuck her, take care of her” he lowers his voice adding a “and to love her” before you can process his words, satoru pulls all the way out and all the way back in. you let out a borderline pornographic moan and you feel them both twitch at the sound. 

“p-please move” you sniffle. and move they do. when suguru pulls out, satoru pushes in. and when satoru pulls out, suguru pushes in. the room filled with your whines and cries of “‘s too much”, “can’t take it”, and “wan’ more”. they do their best to give you everything you need. satoru uses a hand coated with your slick to make you face him so he can smash his lips against yours. 

he’s rough with his kiss. shoving his tongue down your throat, making you suck on it and pulling it out just so he can nibble on your lips. suguru, on the other hand, has made himself busy with your neck. he leaves bite marks wherever he can, kissing the same area he bit softly as if he was soothing the pain. “ha-harder”

satoru breaks the kiss with a groan. “our girl is so greedy, suguru. should we give her what she wants? i’m not sure i heard a please” suguru, still busy with your neck, grunts softly in feigned disappointment. “i thought we had trained her better than that. maybe we shouldn’t give it to her” you shake your head at their words “no! n-no please. i’m sor-ry, i’ll be good. don’ stop, please”

this seems to satisfy them because they listen. and they listen well. they not only move harder, but somehow deeper too. suguru has one of your legs lifted in the air while satoru keeps you steady at your waist. your moans get louder and louder, a warning that you’re getting close. you know satoru and suguru are aware but you know better than to cum without asking. 

“c-can i? please ‘ve been so good, wanna cum s-so bad” you’re practically sobbing and they can feel themselves throbbing around you. satoru kisses your cheek and says something along the lines of “you can cum, baby” but you aren’t listening because suguru bit that spot on your neck and satoru hit that spot in your cunt and you’re seeing stars when you squirt on them. 

they only get in a few more thrusts before they fill you up with their cum. “holy shit” satoru chuckles “didn’t know you were a squirter, baby” you whine out in embarrassment, wanting to hide your face in your hands but you feel too tired to do anything.  

you whimper when suguru pulls out, followed by satoru. the feeling of being empty being foreign after being stuffed so full. suguru carefully places your leg down, making sure satoru is still holding you up. you’re not sure what he has planned because he has that stupid grin on his face that he and satoru share when they’re about to do something devious. 

when around forty seconds have passed and the only thing that’s happened is satoru leaving wet kisses along your back, you think you’re in the clear but your legs being moved. each one gently placed on the shoulder of a very handsome suguru who is currently on his knees between your legs. you want to protest, tell them you’re still recovering from the last orgasm but suguru presses a kiss to your clit. 

the constant stimulation has your clit protruding out, begging for attention, so how could he not kiss it some more? the sounds from between your legs are no less than obscene. suguru is groaning into your cunt. he kisses, sucks, bites, and you would be a fucking liar to say that it doesn’t feel as good as it hurts. “you have the sweetest pussy, pretty” he moans out between kisses “tastes so good”

satoru thinks he’s going to go insane. he would much rather be between your legs but he knows there’ll be more chances for him to do so in the future. for now, he’ll focus on pressing those kisses you seem to love on your back and neck while using one hand to show each of your tits equal amounts of attention. and also whispering dirty words into your ear that only shove you closer and closer to the edge you’ve been teetering on. 

“does suguru’s tongue feel good, baby? you like being used by us? you wanna come all over his face like a good girl?” you do. you want to be nothing but the best for them. you wish they would never stop praising you. “y-yes, fuck, wanna be your good girl. wan’ to cum so bad, please can i?” you know nothing of pride, you only know suguru and satoru are making you feel so good that you can barely remember your own name.

it’s only when suguru says your name in that rough voice of his before telling you to come that you remember. you cum hard on his face, his mouth never stopping but only slowing down and moving to place gentle kisses on your clit. “you did so well for us, sweetheart” satoru moves his hands up and down your sides to sooth your trembling body. when suguru leaves to grab a washcloth to clean you up, satoru is still whispering comforting praises into your ear. he backs up to sit himself in a chair and tugs you into his lap. “shhh, it’s okay, baby. i got you”

suguru returns with a wet washcloth. “can you open up for me, pretty? jus’ gonna clean you, nothing else” satoru knows your body is capable of moving just yet so he takes your whine as the okay for him to spread you open for his friend. once suguru’s done, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

suguru dresses you in one of his oversized shirts before satoru takes you to his bed. they let you sleep while they clean themselves up before joining you in bed as well. you wake up later that night to two sleeping boys and an ache between your legs. they each are touching you in their own ways, suguru nuzzled into your neck and satoru’s hand wrapped possessively around your waist. you find yourself drifting back into sleep and the next time you wake up, there’s a note on the bedside table.

“we stepped out for a bit but we’ll be back soon with breakfast, baby ;)” 

-

tuesday comes by again once more and this time you’re the only one staying behind. the past three days have been spent “studying” at suguru and satoru’s place and you’re finally ready to hear about your test results from your professor. when he returns your paper, you know there’s only one thing to do.

you text the two boys a picture of your grade on your exam making sure the big 98% written on top of a “nice work!” is clearly shown.

-you: i think i deserve a reward

©storusangel. any and all forms of modifications, reposts, and translation of my work are prohibited.

[jupiterpilgrim]

What You Deserve

An Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 13K

Rain pelts the windows of your cramped apartment, a steady gray drizzle that’s been going all afternoon. It’s the kind of weather that makes you want to crawl under a blanket and disappear, and honestly, that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing. You’re sprawled on the couch, still in the same faded hoodie and sweatpants you’ve worn for three days straight, a half-empty bag of Doritos tipped over on the cushion next to you. The TV’s on, some random sci-fi rerun flickering across the screen, but you’re not really watching. Your head’s a mess—has been since the breakup hit you like a truck a week ago. Everything’s fuzzy, like you’re moving through fog, and the ache in your chest hasn’t let up for a second. You keep replaying the last fight, the way she—your ex—stormed out, leaving you feeling like the world’s biggest loser. Again.

The knock at the door jolts you upright, spilling a few stray Doritos onto the floor. You freeze, heart thudding. Who the hell would show up now? You’re not expecting anyone—haven’t even showered since… what, Tuesday? Hesitating, you shuffle over, socks scuffing against the hardwood, and peek through the peephole, then—holy fuck—it’s An Yujin standing there, and your heart does a dumbass somersault right into your throat.

Yujin. Your Yujin—or ex-Yujin, whatever—looking like she just strutted out of some wet dream you’d deny having.

Months—literal months—since you last saw her, and yet here she is, looking like she never left. You fumble with the lock, hands shaky, and crack the door open just enough to see her fully. She’s soaked from the rain, dark hair plastered to her neck, but somehow that only makes her more striking. She’s wearing this oversized black leather jacket, unzipped, over a cropped white tank top that clings to her skin just enough to show off her collarbones and the faintest outline of her bra underneath. Low-rise jeans hug her hips, frayed at the knees, and she’s got these scuffed-up combat boots that somehow tie the whole look together. Casual, yeah, but the kind of casual that screams she knows exactly how good she looks. Water drips from her jacket onto your doormat, and she tilts her head, smirking faintly, like she’s already won something.

“Hey,” she says, voice low and smooth, cutting through the sound of the rain. “Can I come in? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You’re too stunned to argue, stepping back to let her through. She brushes past you, close enough that you catch the scent of rain mixed with whatever expensive perfume she’s still obsessed with. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly your dingy living room feels way too small. She glances around, taking in the mess—empty takeout containers on the coffee table, a stack of unopened comics you’ve been meaning to sort through—and then her eyes land back on you. They’re piercing, like she’s already peeling you apart layer by layer.

“Jesus, you’re a wreck,” she says, but there’s a softness to it, a fake kind of concern that you’re too foggy to clock right away. She shrugs off her jacket, tossing it over the arm of your couch like she still owns the place, and flops down onto the cushions, legs crossed, tank top riding up just enough to show a sliver of her stomach. “Heard about what happened. Mutual friends, you know how it goes. You okay?”

You blink, still standing there like an idiot by the door. Your brain's scrambling to catch up. "Uh... Yes. I mean, no. Not really." Your voice cracks, and you hate it—hate how pathetic you sound. You shuffle over to the couch, sinking into it, hands fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. "It's been... Rough. A week ago. Still kinda blurry."

She nods, leaning forward a little, elbows on her knees. Her eyes don’t leave yours, and it’s unnerving as hell. “I bet. Breakups suck. Especially when it’s someone who didn’t deserve you anyway.” She pauses, letting that sink in, and you feel this weird flicker of warmth, like she’s actually on your side. “What happened? You don’t have to spill everything, just… how you holding up?”

You swallow hard, staring at the floor. The rain’s louder now, drumming against the glass, and it’s easier to focus on that than her face. “I don’t even know. We fought. She left. Said I was too… I dunno, clingy or something. It’s all a mess in my head.” You laugh, but it’s bitter, hollow. “I’m not good at this stuff. Never have been.”

Yujin makes this little sound, like a hum of sympathy, and shifts closer, perching on the edge of the couch now. Her boots scuff the floor, and you can’t help but notice how her jeans stretch tight over her thighs. “That’s rough,” she says, voice dipping softer. “Sounds like she didn’t get you. Like, at all. You’re too sweet for someone who’d pull that crap.” She tilts her head again, hair falling over one shoulder, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she still is, even dripping wet and casual as hell.

You shrug, feeling the weight of everything pressing down harder. “Maybe. I just… I feel like I screwed it up. Like I always do.” Your eyes flick up to hers for a second, then dart away because looking at her too long makes your chest tight in a way you can’t explain.

“Hey, no,” she says, firm but gentle, leaning even closer now. You can feel the heat of her presence, the way she fills up the space between you. “Don’t do that to yourself. You’re not the screw-up here. She didn’t see what she had, that’s on her.” She reaches out, just brushing your knee with her fingers, and it’s like a spark jumps through you. You flinch, but don’t pull away.

You’re quiet for a minute, the room heavy with the sound of rain and your own uneven breathing. She’s watching you, patient but intense, like she’s waiting for you to crack open. And you do, a little. “I’ve just been… sitting here. Feeling like garbage. I don’t know how to shake it.”

Yujin nods, like she gets it completely. “Then don’t shake it alone,” she says, voice dropping again, pulling you in. “You don’t have to. I’m here, right? I showed up because I wanted to see you. Check on you.” She smiles, small but sharp, and it’s like a lifeline tossed into the mess of your head. “Why don’t I stick around? We can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”

You should say no. You know you should. Months ago, she was the one who left you spinning, who made you feel small and needy and not enough. But right now, with the rain and the gloom and the way your whole world feels like it’s caving in, she’s the only thing that looks solid. The only thing that feels like it might hold you up. So you nod, slow and shaky, and mutter, “Yeah. Okay. Stay.”

She leans back, settling into the couch like she never left, and you’re already sinking deeper into something you can’t quite name—but it feels warm, and you’re too tired to fight it.

“Hey,” you say, voice rough from disuse, “you want some hot chocolate or something? It’s crap weather out there. You’re soaked.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, you catch this glint—like she’s surprised you’re offering. Then she grins, slow and lazy, and nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. You still make it the same way?”

“Pretty much,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from the couch. Your legs feel wobbly as you shuffle to the kitchen, heart thudding harder than it should. You can’t wrap your head around it—she’s here. Showed up in the rain, no warning, looking like that. You grab a couple of mugs from the cabinet, the chipped blue one she always used to pick and a random green one for yourself. The kettle’s already half-full, so you flick it on, digging out the cocoa powder and a bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry. You’re moving on autopilot, but your brain’s buzzing—why now? Why her?

She calls out from the living room, voice carrying over the hum of the kettle. “You know, I still can’t believe I walked all the way here in this. Guess I just had to see you for myself.”

You glance back at her, catching her stretching her arms over her head, tank top riding up again. “Yeah, well, I can’t believe it either,” you say. The water boils, and you pour it into the mugs, stirring in the cocoa until it’s smooth. A handful of marshmallows goes into hers—she always liked it loaded—and you carry them back, handing hers over carefully. Your fingers brush hers as she takes it, and you pull back fast, sitting down with your own mug cradled in your hands.

She takes a sip, closing her eyes for a second like she’s savoring it. “God, this takes me back,” she says. “You always made this when I was pissed off or whatever. Like clockwork.” She opens her eyes, locking them on you, and there’s this weight in her gaze that makes you squirm.

You shrug, staring into your mug instead of her. “Yeah, guess some things don’t change.” The steam warms your face, and you take a sip, letting the heat settle into you. It’s quiet again, just the rain and the faint hum of the TV, and you feel this pull—like you need to say something, anything, to fill the space. “So… uh, it’s been rough. With her. The ex, I mean. We fought all the time. Like, nonstop. She’d get mad over the dumbest stuff—me staying up late reading comics, or forgetting to text her back right away. And I’d just… I’d try to fix it, but it was like nothing I did was enough.”

Yujin’s listening, mug resting on her knee, her fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic. She doesn’t interrupt, just nods a little, letting you spill. You keep going, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started. “It got worse toward the end. She’d yell, I’d shut down. One time she threw my Switch across the room ‘cause I was playing Zelda instead of, I dunno, staring at her or something. Broke the screen. Then she’d act like I was the one overreacting when I got upset. It was exhausting.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Yujin says, her tone even but with this edge—like she’s pissed on your behalf. She shifts, sitting up straighter, and takes another sip. “She didn’t get you at all. Throwing your Switch? That’s psycho. You don’t mess with a guy’s games.”

You huff out a laugh, small and shaky. “Yeah, right? I was so done by the end. But it still… it still messed me up. Like, maybe I was the problem. Too clingy, too needy, too… whatever.” You trail off, staring at the marshmallows melting into your hot chocolate, feeling that familiar pit opening up in your gut.

Yujin sets her mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink, leaning forward now, elbows on her knees. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t let her flip this on you. She sounds like she sucked to be around, plain and simple.” Her voice is firm, and when you glance up, her eyes are intense, boring into you. “I heard about her, you know. Mutual friends, like I said. Word is she was never that nice to begin with. Kinda had a rep for being a control freak.”

“You… you knew about her?”

She shrugs, casual, but there’s something sharp in it. “Enough. Heard you were dating again and… I dunno, it bugged me. More than it should’ve.” She pauses, looking away for a second, out at the rain-streaked window, then back at you. “Guess I didn’t like picturing you with someone else. Especially not someone who’d treat you like that.”

Your throat goes dry, and you fumble with your mug, setting it down before you spill it. “I didn’t… I mean, it was quick. After us, I just… I didn’t know what I was doing.” You’re stumbling over your words, and she’s watching you, unblinking, like she’s piecing you together. “Maybe I jumped into it too fast. I’m not good at that stuff—figuring things out on the fly. You know that.”

Her lips twitch, not quite a smile, but close. “Yeah, I know. You’re not exactly Mr. Impulse. Always overthinking everything.” She says it like it’s a fact, not a jab, but there’s this undercurrent—like she’s pointing out something you missed. “But it’s not your fault she was a trainwreck. You don’t have to carry that.”

You lean back in the couch, running a hand through your hair. “I guess. Still feels like I should’ve seen it coming. I’m not… I’m not good at picking people, you know? Always end up with someone who makes me feel like I’m lucky they even bother with me.”

Yujin’s quiet for a beat, then she slides off the couch, moving to sit on the coffee table right in front of you, close enough that her knee bumps yours. She’s all sharp edges and soft glow—wet hair framing her face, tank top clinging just right, eyes locked on you like she’s daring you to look away. “You don’t need to feel lucky,” she says. “You’re better than that. Better than her. And honestly? You were always too good for me to deserve back then, too.”

You freeze, caught in the weight of her words. She’s so close now, and the room feels smaller, the air thicker. “You don’t mean that,” you mutter, half to yourself, but she shakes her head quick.

“I do. And you need to hear it.” She reaches out, just resting her hand on your arm, and it’s like the heat of her skin jolts you awake. “You’re a mess right now, yeah, but you don’t have to be alone with it. I’m here. I came here for you. In the freaking rain, no less.” She laughs a little, soft and real, and it’s the first time tonight you feel something lift—like the fog in your head’s thinning out.

You look at her, really look at her, and she’s stupidly gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that makes your nerdy, self-doubting brain short-circuit. You feel that old pull, the one you could never shake with her, and it’s comforting and terrifying all at once. “Thanks,” you say, quiet, barely audible over the rain. “I… I needed this. More than I thought.”

She smiles, small but warm, and squeezes your arm before letting go. “Anytime. You know I’ve got you.” And the way she says it, the way she’s looking at you, you almost believe it’s that simple—even though deep down, you know nothing with her ever is.

“I missed you,” you say, voice low, almost lost in the sound of the storm. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but now it’s out there, hanging between you like a live wire.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, she just looks at you—searching, maybe surprised. Then her lips curve into this slow, easy smile, and there they are: those dimples. Two little indents that used to drive you insane, the ones you’d poke with your finger when she’d laugh, just because it was cute and she’d pretend to hate it. They’re back now, and your chest tightens like someone’s squeezed it. “Yeah?” she says, voice soft but teasing, leaning in just a fraction. “You missed me?”

You nod, swallowing hard, because what else can you do? She’s got you pinned with that look, and you’re already sinking. The fabric of the tight tank top hugging her like a second skin. You can see the faint outline of her bra, the way her collarbone catches the light, and your brain stumbles over itself. Your hands twitch, nervous energy spilling out, and you grip the mug tighter to keep them.

She notices—of course she does. Her smile tilts into something sharper, more knowing. “What’s with you?” she asks, tilting her head so her hair falls over one shoulder. “You’re all jumpy now.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Your throat’s dry, and she’s just sitting there, looking like that, and it’s scrambling you. “I—uh. You’re just… you look good,” you manage, lame as hell, but it’s all you’ve got.

She laughs, soft and low, and those dimples deepen. “Thanks. But you’re dodging. What’s going on in that head of yours?” She leans closer, resting her elbows on her knees, and now she’s really in your space—close enough that you can smell the rain on her, mixed with that sharp-sweet perfume she’s always worn.

You hesitate, but she’s got you locked in, and the words spill out again before you can stop them. “I mean it. I really missed you. Like… a lot.” Your voice cracks a little, and you wince, but it’s true, and she can tell.

Her smile softens, less teasing now, more real. “I missed you too,” she says, and it’s quiet, almost like she’s admitting it to herself as much as to you. She sits back a little, crossing her arms under her chest—yeah, that’s not helping your nerves—and looks at you with this steady, unreadable gaze. “Way more than I thought I would. You’re so damn low-profile, you know that? No socials, no updates, nothing. Made it impossible to keep tabs on you.”

“Wait. You… you tried to keep tabs on me?”

She doesn’t even flinch, just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. Couldn’t help it. You just… disappeared after we split. I’d scroll through your friend’s posts, hoping you’d pop up in the background or something. Pathetic, right?” She laughs again, but it’s self-aware, almost sheepish, and it’s so unlike her usual confidence that you don’t know what to do with it.

“You were stalking me?” you ask, half-joking, but your pulse is racing now. The idea of her—Yujin—digging around for scraps of you after everything… it’s doing something to you, lighting up a part of your brain you’ve tried to keep dark for months.

She smirks, unbothered. “Stalking’s a strong word. Let’s call it… checking in. But yeah, maybe I was a little obsessed. Can you blame me?” She leans forward again, and now her hand’s on your knee, light but deliberate, and your whole body locks up. “You’ve got this way of sticking in my head. Always have.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you’re staring at her hand like it’s burning through your sweatpants. “I… didn’t know that,” you mutter. She’s looking at you like she’s daring you to push, and you’re too weak to resist. “You really thought about me that much?”

“More than I should’ve,” she says, voice dropping lower, and there’s this edge to it—like she’s letting you in on something dangerous. “Kept wondering what you were up to. Who you were with. Kept thinking about how you’d look at me with those big, dumb puppy eyes when I’d push your buttons.” Her fingers flex against your knee, just enough to make you twitch, and she grins. “Like that. Right there.”

You’re flustered now, heat creeping up your neck, and you hate how easily she’s getting to you. “Shut up,” you mumble, but it’s weak, and she knows it. You push anyway, because part of you needs to hear more—needs to feel this wanted. “So what, you were just… lurking? Keeping score?”

She laughs, tilting her head back, and those dimples flash again, killing you all over. “Not lurking. Just… noticing. And yeah, maybe keeping score a little. Wanted to see if you’d crash and burn without me.” She pauses, eyes flicking over your face, and her voice softens. “Didn’t expect to hear you were dating someone else so fast, though. That stung.”

You swallow, caught in the twist of it—guilt and this weird, messed-up thrill. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan it. Just happened.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she says, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—jealousy, maybe, or regret. “Still sucked, though. Finding out you were with her. Kept imagining you doing all the stuff we used to do. Made me wanna claw my eyes out.” She’s grinning when she says it, but it’s tight, like she’s masking something raw.

Your head’s spinning now, and you can’t stop yourself—you keep digging, chasing the high of her words. “So you were, what, jealous? Obsessed enough to hate it?”

She leans in close again, her face inches from yours, and her voice drops to this husky whisper that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah, jealous. Obsessed, maybe. Whatever you wanna call it. I didn’t like sharing you. Still don’t.” Her hand slides up your thigh, just a little, and it’s enough to set your nerves on fire. “You’ve always been mine, you know. Even when you’re not.”

You should pull back. You should laugh it off, call her out, something—but you don’t. You’re hooked, reeled in by the way she’s looking at you, by the way her confession makes you feel like you’re something. “That’s… kinda messed up,” you say, but your voice is shaky, and your body’s betraying you, leaning toward her instead of away.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, and her lips are so close now you can feel her breath on your skin. “But you like it. I can tell.” She pulls back just enough to smirk at you, those dimples mocking you, daring you to deny it. “Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t miss this—me, right here, knowing you’re all I think about sometimes.”

You can’t. She’s got you dead to rights, and you both know it. Your heart’s hammering, and she’s still got her hand on your thigh, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the gap. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admit, because it’s true—you’re a mess, and she’s unraveling you stitch by stitch.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, voice soft but commanding. “Just don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.” And she’s right—you do. You’re nervous, flustered, but under it all, you’re wanted, and it’s been so long since you’ve felt that. She’s watching you, waiting, and you’re already too far gone to pull back now.

And then, casual as hell, she slides off the table and swings a leg over yours, settling right onto your lap. Just like that, like it’s nothing.

Your sanity cracks.

She’s warm, solid, her weight pressing down on you in a way that shorts out every rational thought you’ve got left. Her tank top rides up slightly as she adjusts, showing a sliver of skin above her jeans, and you’re trying so hard not to stare, not to lose it completely. Your arms stay glued to the couch, fingers digging into the cushions like that’s gonna keep you grounded. She notices, of course, and her smirk deepens, those dimples flashing like a warning sign.

“God, you’re so tense,” she says, voice low and teasing, leaning forward just enough that her breath brushes your jaw. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle me being this close?” Her hands settle on your shoulders, light but deliberate, and you feel the heat of her palms through your hoodie.

You swallow hard, throat tight. “I… uh…” Words fail you, because yeah, she’s right—you’re barely holding it together. She’s sitting on your lap, talking like it’s normal, and your brain’s frying.

She tilts her head, hair falling over one shoulder, and her tone shifts—still playful, but darker, laced with something raw. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You with her. Some other girl sitting right here—” she presses her hips down a little, just to make her point, and your breath hitches—“where I used to be. Like she could just slide in and take my place. Drove me up the wall.”

You blink up at her, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. “You… you were that jealous?” It’s a dumb question, but you’re too scrambled to care.

Her eyes narrow, and she leans in closer, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Jealous? Try insane. I’d hear stuff—Rei or whoever running their mouth about you two—and I’d picture it. Her on your lap, her hands all over you, her thinking she could have you like I did. Made me wanna track her down and scratch her damn face off.” She laughs, sharp and bitter, but her gaze is steady, pinning you in place. “Stupid, right? But I couldn’t shake it.”

Your mouth’s dry, and you’re just staring at her now, the heat of her body sinking into you, making it impossible to think straight. “She… she didn’t compare,” you mutter, almost to yourself, but it’s loud enough for her to hear. “Not even close. She wasn’t you. Didn’t… do what you do. Didn’t make me feel like this.” Your voice cracks a little, and you hate it, but it’s true—she’s got you surrendered, always has, and no one else ever came close.

Yujin’s smirk softens into something dangerous, something triumphant. “Yeah?” she murmurs, shifting again, pressing herself closer so her chest brushes yours. “What do I do to you, huh? Tell me.” Her hands slide down from your shoulders, resting on your chest now, and you can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips, fast and steady.

You hesitate, your arms still frozen on the couch, but she’s not letting you off that easy. She leans in, lips hovering near your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “Go ahead. Touch me. You know you want to.”

It’s a mistake—you know it’s a mistake. Once you cross that line, there’s no going back, no pretending this didn’t happen. But your hands move anyway, slow and shaky, lifting from the cushions to settle on her. One lands on her arm, the other on her waist, and the warmth of her skin hits you like a shockwave. She’s soft but firm, the curve of her waist fitting under your palm like it was made for it. Your fingers flex, testing the waters, and she lets out this quiet little hum that sends a jolt straight through you.

“There you go,” she says, voice silky, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, and she’s got that look—like she’s already won. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Been too long since you had your hands on me.”

You nod, barely conscious of it, because yeah, it does. “I missed this,” you admit, quiet and rough, your thumb brushing along the edge of her tank top where it meets her jeans. “Missed you. Your body… you look hotter now. If that’s even possible.”

Her smile lights up, dimples popping again, and it’s like a reward. “You think so?” she asks, voice bright with this twisted kind of joy. She shifts in your lap, deliberate, rolling her hips just enough to make your breath catch. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about you too. How you’d feel under me like this. How much I missed having you fall apart for me.”

Your hands tighten on her instinctively, one sliding up her arm to her shoulder, the other gripping her waist harder. “Yujin…” you start, but it’s weak, and she knows it. She’s got you wrapped around her finger, and you’re not even fighting it anymore.

“What?” she murmurs, leaning in so her lips are barely a inch from yours, her breath hot against your skin. “You gonna tell me to stop? Or you gonna admit you’re still mine?” Her fingers trail down your chest, slow and teasing, and your resolve crumbles a little more with every inch.

“I… I shouldn’t,” you say, but it’s half-hearted, and your hands are already moving again, tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her top. “This is a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, but her voice is dripping with confidence, and she’s closing the gap, her nose brushing yours. “But you’re not gonna stop me, are you? You missed me too much. Missed this.” She presses herself closer, thighs tightening around your hips, and you feel every bit of her—warm, alive, overwhelming.

“Yeah,” you breathe, giving in, your hands sliding down to her hips now, pulling her against you like you can’t help it. “I did. Missed you. All of you.”

She sighs, but it’s not soft—it’s resigned, almost dramatic, like she’s wrestling with something inside her. “God, you mess me up so bad,” she says, shaking her head, but she’s smiling again, dimples flashing as she cups your face with one hand. “I’m out here losing my mind over you, and you’re just… sitting there, letting me. You’re the worst, you know that?”

You laugh, small and shaky, because it’s all you’ve got left. “You’re the one who climbed into my lap,” you point out, your hands roaming now, one slipping under the hem of her tank top to feel the bare skin of her lower back. “Kinda hard to ignore you.”

“Good,” she says, and her voice drops again, husky and intent. “I don’t want you to ignore me. I want you to think about me. All the time. Like I think about you.” She shifts again, grinding down just enough to make your head spin, and her lips are so close now you can taste the hot chocolate on her breath. “Tell me you still want me. Say it.”

Your hands are all over her now—one on her back, the other gripping her thigh—and you’re done pretending you’ve got any control here. “I want you,” you say, low and rough, and it’s like letting go of a weight you didn’t know you were carrying. “Always have. You know that.”

Her eyes flash, victorious, and she leans in, finally pressing her lips to yours—just a graze at first, testing you. But you’re already gone, pulling her in harder, kissing her like you’ve been starving for it. She tastes sweet, like cocoa and something sharper, and she kisses back like she’s claiming you all over again. When she pulls away, she’s breathless, grinning, those dimples mocking you as she whispers, “See? Told you you’re still mine.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. She’s got you—hook, line, and sinker.

The rain’s still pounding outside, a steady roar that fills the room, but all you can focus on is Yujin. She’s got you pinned—figuratively, literally—straddling your lap like she owns you, and honestly, she might as well. Her hand shoots up, grabbing your cheeks with one firm grip, squeezing just enough to make your lips pucker slightly. Her eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unyielding, and it’s like she’s staring straight through you, peeling back every layer you’ve tried to build up since she’s been gone.

“Say it,” she demands, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Say you belong to me.”

You’re already a mess—heart racing, breath shallow, her weight pressing into you like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. Your hands are still on her thighs, fingers digging into the denim, and you can feel the heat of her through it, steady and real. “I belong to you,” you say, the words spilling out fast, rough, like they’ve been waiting there all along.

Her grip tightens for a second, then loosens, and she tilts her head, studying you. “Good. Now tell me—who do you belong to?”

“You,” you answer, no hesitation this time, your voice steadier even though your pulse is hammering in your ears. “I belong to you, Yujin.”

She smirks, satisfied, and there’s this glint in her eyes—like she’s won some game you didn’t even know you were playing. “That’s right,” she says, leaning in closer, her breath hot against your lips. “And no other girl—no one—better come near you again. ‘Cause I don’t know what I’d do. To her... To you.” Her voice drops, and it sends a shiver down your spine—not from fear, but from how much it gets to you.

“It won’t happen,” you mutter, hands flexing against her thighs, squeezing harder like you’re trying to prove it. “Not again. Promise.”

Her smirk softens into something almost sweet, and she closes the gap, kissing you hard and sudden. It’s not gentle—her lips crash into yours like she’s staking a claim, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a split second before she pulls back, just enough to breathe. It’s a reward, yeah, but it’s also a reminder: she’s in charge. Always has been. Your head’s spinning, but you lean into it, chasing the taste of her—cocoa and that sharp edge that’s all Yujin.

“This is for your own good, you know.” Another kiss, quick and firm, then she pulls back to look at you, her hand still holding your face like you’re something precious she’s molding. “I’m the only one who gets you. The only one who knows how to deal with you—how to take care of you.” Her voice is soft now, almost hypnotic, weaving around the sound of the rain. “No one else understands you like I do. You need me.”

You nod, dazed, because she’s right—you do need her. You’ve been a wreck without her, and now she’s here, filling up every empty space like she never left. Her body’s pressed against you, warm and insistent, and you’re hyper-aware of every point of contact. Your hands slide up her thighs, slow and tentative, and you can feel the muscle under the denim, the way she shifts under your touch. She’s solid, grounding, and it’s driving you insane.

She feels it too—your dick’s already hard, straining against your sweatpants, and there’s no hiding it. Her hips shift, just a little, and she smirks again, that knowing look that always unravels you. “Look at you,” she says. “Already falling apart just from this. You’re so easy.”

You groan, low in your throat, embarrassed but also with desire. Your hands grip her tighter, pulling her closer, and she lets you, settling fully against you now. Her hand slides up, fingers brushing over your jaw, then tracing down the side of your face, slow and deliberate. “You’re such a mess without me,” she murmurs, almost to herself, and her eyes are dark, drinking you in. “My little boy. Mommy’s boy.”

The word makes you shiver—mommy. You used to call her that, half-joking but not really, because she’d always take care of you, always know exactly what you needed. Hearing it now, from her lips, in that low, commanding tone—it’s like a switch flips. Your whole body reacts, a jolt running through you, and she clocks it immediately, her smirk widening.

“Yeah,” she says, dragging the word out, her hand resting on your cheek now, thumb brushing your lips. “Mommy’s boy needs some affection, huh? Some care. Look at you—just sitting there, all needy and lost without me.” She shifts again, grinding down subtly, and you can’t hold back the sound that slips out, a quiet, desperate little noise that makes her chuckle.

“Please,” you mutter, barely audible, and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for—just her, all of her, whatever she’ll give you. Your hands are everywhere now, roaming up her thighs to her hips, fingers digging in like you’re afraid she’ll disappear again.

She leans in, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring it. Her lips move against yours like she’s memorizing you, tongue slipping past just enough to make your head spin before she pulls back. “I’ve got you,” she whispers, forehead resting against yours for a second, her breath mingling with yours. “Always have. No one else can do this—make you feel like this. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you forget it again.”

You nod, helpless under her, and she slides her hand down your chest, slow and teasing, resting it just above your waistband. She doesn’t move further, just lets it linger there, and it’s enough to make you twitch, your dick throbbing under her weight. “See?” she says, voice smug but soft. “No one else gets you like this. All wound up, practically begging just from me talking to you. You missed your mommy, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice rough, hands squeezing her thighs again, desperate for more but too wrecked to push for it. “Missed you so much. Just… need you.”

Her smile’s all victory now, dimples flashing as she kisses you again, quick and firm, then pulls back to look at you. “Good boy,” she murmurs, patting your cheek lightly, and it’s condescending as hell but it lights you up anyway. “Mommy’s here now. Gonna take care of you, give you everything you’ve been missing.” She rocks her hips again, just enough to drive you crazy, and her hand slides back up to your face, holding you there so you can’t look away. “You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

And you believe her—because right now, with her on top of you, her voice in your ear, her touch burning through you, it’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted.

You lean in and press your lips to her neck. It’s instinct—your mouth finds that spot just below her jaw, soft and warm, and you kiss it slow, dragging your lips against her skin. She tastes like rain and that sharp-sweet perfume, and it’s intoxicating, pulling you in deeper. Your hand starts moving, sliding down her side, fingers digging into the curve of her waist. She’s thicker now, softer in this way that makes your gut tighten, and you squeeze, feeling the give of her flesh under your grip.

She sighs, soft and airy, tilting her head back to give you more room, and it’s like she’s melting into you. “Fuck,” she mutters, voice low, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance. “You’re too good at that.” Her tank top’s tight, stretched over her chest, but it’s not enough—you need more of her. Your fingers tug at the hem, and she gets the hint, shifting back just enough to peel it off in one smooth motion. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten, and now she’s sitting there in just her bra, black and simple, hugging her curves like it’s doing you a favor.

Your eyes drop, and you can’t help it—you’re staring. She notices, smirking as she grabs your hand, guiding it to her tummy. Her skin’s warm, smooth under your palm, and she presses your fingers into it, letting you feel her. “Been a while, huh?” she murmurs, voice teasing but heavy with something else. “Missed this?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, your hand sliding up slow, tracing the dip of her stomach, the way it curves into her ribs. She moves your hand higher, deliberate, until it’s resting over her bra, cupping her breast. They’re medium, soft, spilling slightly over your palm as you squeeze, and she lets out this little sound—half sigh, half moan—that hits you right in the gut.

“Got a surprise for you,” she says, leaning in close, her lips brushing your ear. “Wanna see?” Her tone’s playful, but there’s a challenge in it, like she’s testing how far you’ll go.

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah. Show me.”

Her smile’s all teeth, wicked and bright, and she reaches back, fingers deft as she unhooks her bra. It’s slow, deliberate—she slides the straps down her shoulders one by one, letting the fabric fall away like she’s unwrapping something precious. When it drops, you freeze, swallowing hard. Her breasts spill free, and there they are—nipple piercings. Small silver bars glinting under the dim light, cutting through the soft pink of her nipples. Your breath catches, and your dick twitches in your sweats, already straining against the fabric.

“Like ‘em?” she asks, voice husky, watching your face like she’s feeding off your reaction.

“Fuck yeah,” you say, raw and honest, eyes locked on her. “They’re perfect.” They’re bold, unexpected, and so her—a little wild, a little dangerous, and you’re losing your mind over it.

She leans back slightly, letting you take it all in, and her voice drops lower. “They’re sensitive as hell now. Took a while to get used to, but… worth it.” She’s smirking again, daring you, and your hand’s already moving, brushing over one breast, thumb grazing the piercing. The metal’s cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her, and she gasps, sharp and sudden, her body arching into your touch.

“Shit,” she mutters, biting her lip, and you can see it—how sensitive they really are. Her nipple hardens under your fingers, and you roll the bar gently, testing it. She sighs again, louder this time, her hands gripping your shoulders tighter. “You’re gonna kill me with that,” she says, but she’s grinning, eyes half-closed, loving every second.

You hesitate, hand still on her, and glance up. “Can I… suck them?” It’s polite, almost awkward, because you’re so wound up you can barely think straight, but you need to ask.

She laughs, soft and real, tilting her head like she’s charmed by it. “God, you’re cute. Yeah, of course you can. Go for it.” She shifts closer, practically offering herself up, and you don’t waste time.

You lean in, lips brushing her skin first, just below her breast, tasting the faint salt of her. Then you move higher, closing your mouth over her nipple, the piercing cool and hard against your tongue. You suck, slow and careful at first, feeling the way she reacts—her body tensing, a quiet moan slipping out. The metal rolls in your mouth, smooth and strange, and you flick your tongue over it, testing. She groans, low and ragged, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she breathes, voice rougher now, her hips shifting in your lap. You can feel her pressing against you, the heat of her through her jeans, and your dick’s throbbing, trapped under her weight. Your hand’s still squeezing her other breast, thumb teasing the piercing there, and she’s squirming, every sound she makes driving you further into this haze.

You pull back for a second, just to look—her nipple’s wet from your mouth, the piercing glinting, and she’s flushed, chest heaving. “So sensitive,” you mutter, almost to yourself, and she nods, biting her lip again.

“Told you,” she says, breathless, her hand sliding down your chest now, teasing the edge of your hoodie. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” It’s not a request—it’s a order, and you’re too far gone to do anything but obey.

You dive back in, sucking harder this time, letting your teeth graze the bar just enough to make her hiss. Your hand’s roaming now, sliding down her side, squeezing her thicker hips, her ass, anything you can reach. She’s solid and soft all at once, and it’s messing with you, how much you’ve missed this—missed her. Every sigh, every little twitch of her body, it’s like she’s pulling you apart piece by piece, and you’re letting her.

“Fuck, babe,” she breathes, voice ragged, her fingers tangled tight in your hair. “You’re so good at that—shit, don’t stop.” The pet name hits you like a spark, lighting you up, and you groan against her skin, pressing your face closer, hungry for more of her. She’s warm, soft, the faint taste of her skin driving you wild, and you flick your tongue over the piercing again, slow and deliberate, just to hear her gasp.

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her head tipping back, eyes half-shut. “God, you’re such a sweet boy, huh? My sweet little babe, driving me crazy.” Her words drip with that mix of affection and control she’s always had over you. You switch to her other breast, mouth closing over it, sucking hard, and she moans, louder this time, her hips rocking against you. “You’re starving for me, aren’t you?” she says, smirking through it, her voice all husky and teasing. “Can feel how much you want this.”

You pull back just long enough to mutter, “Fuck yeah, I am,” voice rough, desperate, before diving back in. Your tongue circles her nipple, teasing the piercing, and she’s squirming now, thighs tightening around your hips. Your hands are everywhere—gripping her waist, sliding up her back, squeezing her breasts—because you can’t get enough. She’s thicker, curvier than you remember, and it’s got you ravenous, every touch feeding this ache that’s been building since she walked through the door.

“Missed my body this much, huh, honey?” she asks, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her breath hot and uneven. “Can’t keep your hands off me.” She shifts, grinding down harder, and you groan into her skin, your dick twitching painfully in your sweats. You’re so hard it’s borderline unbearable, trapped under her weight, and she knows it—fuck, she loves it.

“Yeah,” you rasp, pulling back to catch her eye, your mouth wet from her skin. “Missed you. Missed this. You’re fucking unreal.” Your hand slides down, cupping her ass through her jeans, and you squeeze, pulling her closer. She sighs, pleased, and runs her fingers through your hair, tugging just enough to make you look up at her.

“Look at you, my needy little babe,” she says, grinning, those dimples flashing as she watches you unravel. “All worked up just from sucking on me. You’re too cute.” She leans in, kissing you messy and deep, her tongue sliding against yours, and you’re drowning in it—her taste, her heat, the way she’s owning you without even trying.

You’re panting when she pulls back, and she’s flushed now, chest heaving, her pierced nipples glistening from your mouth. “Shit,” you mutter, staring, and she laughs, soft and smug, like she’s got you exactly where she wants you. Your hands are still on her, roaming, and your dick’s screaming for relief, pressed tight against her. She feels it—has to—and her smirk turns wicked.

“Poor thing,” she coos, shifting back just enough to slide off your lap, slow and deliberate. “You’re rock-hard, aren’t you? Been dying for me this whole time.” She stands in front of you, close enough that her knees brush yours, and you’re staring up at her, chest tight, hands flexing on the couch cushions because you don’t trust yourself to touch her without losing it.

“Yeah,” you admit, voice hoarse, eyes locked on her. “Can’t help it. You’re… fuck, Yujin, you’re killing me.”

“Good,” she says, and there’s that edge again—possessive, commanding. She reaches down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats, and your breath catches as she tugs, slow and teasing. “Let’s see how bad you’ve got it. Lift up for me, babe.” You do, no hesitation, raising your hips so she can pull them down, taking your underwear with them in one smooth motion. They hit the floor, and you’re bare under her gaze, dick hard and aching, precum already beading at the tip.

She steps back, just a little, eyes raking over you, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Damn,” she mutters, almost to herself, then looks back up at you with a grin. “Look at you, all ready for me. My sweet boy’s been holding out, huh?” Her voice is dripping with mock sympathy, but you hear the hunger in it, and it makes your head spin.

“Only for you,” you say, raw and honest, and her smile softens, just for a second, before that wicked edge creeps back in. She drops to her knees in front of you, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flips as she settles between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.

“Gonna take care of you,” she murmurs, leaning in, her breath ghosting over your skin. “My needy little babe deserves it.” And you’re gone, completely, because she’s got you—every inch, every thought, every desperate fucking heartbeat.

The rain’s still drumming outside, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse pounding in your ears. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin, and you tense, every muscle coiled tight, waiting for her to make her move.

“Fuck, babe, look at you,” she says, her eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before dropping back down to your cock. “This thing’s as big as I remember. Thick too—goddamn perfect.” She licks her lips, slow and deliberate, and you feel it like a jolt, your hips twitching involuntarily. She notices, and her smirk widens. “Missed me that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice scraped raw, hands gripping the couch cushions because if you don’t hold onto something, you’re gonna grab her and fuck her mouth yourself. “Missed your mouth on me. Been too fucking long.”

She hums, pleased, and her fingers finally wrap around you—loose at first, just sliding up the length of your shaft, her thumb brushing the tip where you’re already leaking. “Missed this too,” she says, almost to herself, her grip tightening as she gives you a slow, teasing stroke. “Love how you feel in my hand. So heavy. Bet you’ve been dying for me to suck you off.”

“Fuck yeah,” you groan, head tipping back against the couch for a second before you force it forward again—you’re not missing a damn thing. “Please, Yujin. Need it.”

She chuckles, low and dirty, and leans in, her lips brushing the head of your cock, just enough to smear the precum across them. “So polite when you’re desperate,” she teases, then sticks her tongue out, flattening it against the tip, licking slow and filthy. Your whole body jerks, a curse slipping out under your breath, and she grins like she’s won something. “Tastes good,” she murmurs, then drags her tongue down the side, tracing a vein, taking her sweet time.

You’re shaking now, barely holding it together, and she knows it—loves it. “Shit, Yujin, stop fucking around,” you grit out, voice tight, hips shifting toward her mouth. “Suck it already.”

“Bossy,” she mutters, but she’s still smiling, those dimples flashing as she opens her mouth and finally—finally—takes you in. Her lips wrap around the head, tight and wet, and she slides down slow, sucking just enough to make your head spin. You groan loud, guttural, your hands flexing on the couch because you want to grab her hair, shove her down further, but you let her set the pace.

“Fuck,” you hiss, watching her—her cheeks hollow out as she pulls back, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, then she sinks down again, deeper this time, taking half of you. Her tongue’s working the whole time, swirling around the tip when she pulls up, pressing flat against you when she goes down. She’s so fucking good at this—always has been—and you’ve missed it like hell, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Mmm,” she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine, and your dick twitches in her mouth. She feels it, pulls off just enough to talk, her hand stroking you slow and slick. “God, I love this cock,” she says, voice raw, eyes locked on yours as she drags her tongue up the underside, sloppy and shameless. “So fucking big, fills my mouth just right.” She dives back in, sucking harder now, her head bobbing slow and steady, and you’re unraveling, piece by piece.

“Shit, babe,” you groan, head tipping back again, but you can’t take your eyes off her for long—watching her lips stretch around you, her tongue flicking every time she pulls up. “You’re so fucking good—missed this so much.” Your hips buck a little, chasing her mouth, and she moans around you, the sound filthy and perfect.

She pulls off with a wet pop, spit trailing from her mouth to your cock, and she grins, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah? Missed me sucking you off? Bet no one else comes close, huh?” Her hand keeps moving, jerking you slow and tight, and you shake your head, breathless.

“No one,” you pant, “not even fucking close. You’re… fuck, you’re everything.”

Her eyes light up at that, all smug and satisfied, and she leans down again, kissing the tip like it’s a tease before taking you back in. This time she goes deeper, throat relaxing as she slides down, down, until her nose is damn near brushing your pelvis. You curse loud, hips jerking up, and she takes it—lets you hit the back of her throat, gagging just a little before pulling back, eyes watering but still grinning.

“Goddamn, Yujin,” you rasp, hands finally giving in, sliding into her hair, not pushing, just holding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She pulls off again, gasping a little, spit dripping down her chin, and her hand’s still working you, slick and fast now. “Good,” she says, voice wrecked, “then you’ll die happy, babe.” She dives back in, sucking hard and sloppy, her tongue all over you, and you’re barely holding it together, and she knows it, feeding off the way you’re falling apart under her touch. Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, sliding her mouth lower, and your brain short-circuits when you realize where she’s going.

“Fuck, Yujin—” you start, but it cuts off into a groan as her lips brush your balls, heavy and tight, aching from how worked up she’s got you. She doesn’t hesitate—just dives in, sucking one into her mouth, warm and wet, her tongue rolling over it like she’s savoring every second. Her hand’s still wrapped around your cock, stroking you steady and firm, and the combo’s fucking lethal. Your hips jerk up, involuntary, and you feel her moan against you, the vibration hitting you like a shockwave.

“Goddamn, babe,” she murmurs, pulling back just enough to talk, her voice muffled against your skin. “These are so full—been saving up for me, huh?” She switches to the other one, sucking harder now, her tongue flicking and teasing, and you’re losing it, hands gripping the couch cushions so tight your knuckles are white.

“Mommy,” you groan, the word slipping out before you can stop it, raw and desperate, and she freezes for a split second, like it’s flipped a switch in her. Then she pulls off your balls with a wet pop, eyes snapping up to yours, dark and hungry.

“Fuck, say that again,” she demands, her hand pumping your cock faster now, slick with spit and precum. “Call me that again, babe.”

“Mommy,” you mutter, voice wrecked, and she moans, low and filthy, like it’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard. She leans back in, sucking your balls again, her tongue working them over with this skillful precision that’s got you shaking. She’s relentless—alternating between them, pulling one into her mouth, then the other, her lips stretching around you, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks. All the while, her hand’s jerking you off, tight and steady, and you’re a mess of moans and curses, barely able to think straight.

“Shit—fuck, mommy, you’re so good,” you pant, head tipping back, your whole body tensing as she works you over. Her free hand slides up your thigh, squeezing, nails digging in just enough to sting, and it’s like she’s claiming every inch of you—mouth on your balls, hand on your cock, owning you completely.

She pulls back again, letting your balls slip out of her mouth, wet and messy, a string of spit connecting her lips to you before it snaps. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, grinning like a goddamn demon. “Taste so fucking good,” she says, voice rough, her eyes locked on yours as she gives your cock a slow, teasing stroke. “Been dreaming about this—getting my mouth on you again. You’re a fucking wreck for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, chest heaving, dick twitching in her grip. “Can’t—fuck, can’t get enough of you.” Your hands slide into her hair now, shaky and desperate, but you don’t push—she’s in control, and you both know it.

She hums, satisfied, and gives your balls one last lick—long and slow, dragging her tongue up from the base to the tip of your cock like she’s savoring you. You shudder, a loud “shit” slipping out, and she chuckles, dark and smug, before climbing to her feet. You’re panting, flushed and sweaty, dick glistening from her spit, and she’s standing there like she’s just getting started.

“C’mon,” she says, voice low and commanding, holding out her hand. “Bedroom. Now. We’re done messing around on this couch—I wanna really fuck you up.” Her eyes flick over you, taking in how wrecked you already are, and her smirk turns sharp, dangerous. “Gonna have some real fun with you, babe.”

You’re on your feet before you even realize it, grabbing her hand, letting her pull you up. Your legs feel like jelly, dick still painfully hard, swinging free as you stumble after her. “Fuck, Yujin,” you mutter, half-dazed, watching her hips sway as she leads you down the hall, jeans hugging her ass just right. “You’re really killing me.”

“Good,” she throws back over her shoulder, not even turning around. “That’s the plan. You’re mine tonight—gonna make sure you don’t forget it.” She pushes open the bedroom door and tugs you inside, kicking the door shut behind you, and turns to face you, eyes glinting with something wild.

“Get on the bed,” she says, and it’s not a request—it’s a order. Your heart’s pounding, dick throbbing, and you’re so hungry for her you can taste it, feel it in every shaky breath. You’re fucked, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, still buzzing from her mouth on you, when Yujin steps back, hands on her hips, eyes locked on yours like she’s about to put on a damn show. The room’s dim, just the faint glow from the streetlights slipping through the blinds, but it’s enough to watch her every move. She kicks off her boots first, casual and quick, then her hands go to the button of her jeans. You’re mesmerized, can’t look away as she pops it open, sliding the zipper down slow—teasing, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as she peels the jeans off, inch by inch, the denim hugging her hips before dropping down her legs. She steps out of them, kicking them aside, and there she is—just in her panties, black and simple but barely holding back what’s underneath. Her thighs catch your eye first—thick, juicy, the kind of curves you want to sink your teeth into. They flex slightly as she shifts her weight, and your dick twitches, already rock-hard from the sight alone.

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, smirking when she catches you staring. “You like?” she asks, voice low and cocky, dragging them down slow, letting the fabric roll over her hips, then her thighs, until they hit the floor. And fuck—there’s her pussy, glistening in the low light, already wet like she’s been thinking about this as much as you have. She’s got this neat little patch of hair, lightly trimmed, a perfect pattern that draws your eye right to her, and you’re practically drooling.

She steps closer, slow and deliberate, hips swaying just enough to fuck with your head. You’re still sitting there, hands twitching, when she stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off her. Your hands move on instinct, sliding up to her waist, gripping her soft skin, and you pull her in, pressing your lips to her tummy. It’s warm, smooth, and you kiss it slow, dragging your mouth over her, tasting her faintly—salt and that addictive edge that’s all her.

“Mm, good boy,” she murmurs, voice dripping with that dom energy she wears like a second skin. Her hand slides into your hair, stroking it, fingers curling just enough to tug lightly. “You’re already so fucking gone for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe against her skin, voice rough, trailing more kisses down her stomach, slow and hungry. You’re standing now, can’t stay still anymore, your hands roaming up her sides as your lips move lower, chasing that scent—that fucking pull—drawing you in like a drug. You pause just above her pussy, nose brushing the trimmed hair, and inhale deep. It’s musky, sweet, so goddamn addictive you feel lightheaded. “Fuck, I missed this,” you groan, almost to yourself, your mouth watering. “Missed you.”

She laughs, low and smug, her hand tightening in your hair. “Yeah? Then stop teasing and eat my pussy, babe. Show me how much you missed it.” It’s a command, sharp and final, and it’s all you need to hear.

You drop to your knees, hands sliding down to grip her thighs—thick and solid under your palms—and pull her closer. She spreads her legs a little, giving you room, and you dive in, no hesitation. Your tongue drags up her slit first, slow and deliberate, tasting her—wet and slick, already dripping for you. She’s tangy, hot, and you groan against her, the sound vibrating through her as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she hisses, her hand shoving your face tighter against her. “Right there—don’t you dare stop.” Her hips roll forward, grinding against your mouth, and you’re all in now, licking and sucking like you’re starving. You swirl your tongue around her clit, teasing it, then suck it hard, letting your teeth graze just enough to make her gasp. Her thighs tremble under your hands, and you squeeze them, pulling her closer, burying yourself in her.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at this,” she pants, voice breaking a little, her dom edge slipping as she starts to unravel. “Missed that mouth—shit, babe, keep going.” Her hips buck harder, and you’re drowning in her—her taste, her heat, the way she’s soaking your chin. You slide a hand up, fingers brushing her entrance, but you don’t push in yet—just tease, letting her feel it.

She moans loud, shameless, her grip in your hair turning rough. “Fuck, don’t play with me—eat me like you mean it.” You do—tongue plunging deeper, licking up every drop, sucking her clit until she’s shaking. Her pussy’s pulsing, slick and swollen, and you’re obsessed—drinking her in, feeling her thighs clamp around your head. “Yeah, just like that—my good fucking boy,” she growls, and it hits you right in the chest, fueling this desperate need to please her.

You pull back for a second, gasping for air, lips and chin dripping. “You taste so fucking good,” you mutter, raw and wrecked, diving back in before she can even respond. You’re licking harder now, sloppier, tongue everywhere—her clit, her lips, dipping inside just to feel her clench. She’s cursing, moaning, starting to ride your face, and you let her, hands gripping her ass now, guiding her as she bucks against you.

Your tongue’s working overtime, lapping up every bit of her, and she’s so fucking wet it’s obscene—her juices coating your lips, your chin, sliding down your neck. You groan into her, the sound muffled against her skin, and it’s like you’re drunk on her, hunger spiking with every taste.

“Fuck, babe, you’re killing me,” she mutters, voice rough and shaky, but she’s not pulling away—she’s leaning into it, giving you more. She shifts, lifting one leg and planting her foot on the bed, spreading herself wide open. Her pussy’s glistening, creamy now, this thick, delicious slick starting to leak out, and it’s driving you wild. You can see it—white and sticky, clinging to her folds—and you dive in deeper, tongue plunging inside her, chasing it like it’s your fucking lifeline.

“Shit—oh my god,” she gasps, her hand tightening in your hair, shoving your face harder against her. “Yeah, just like that—get in there, fuck.” Her hips roll, grinding against your mouth, and you’re surrounded by her—her heat, her scent, that addictive cream coating your tongue as you dig it in, scooping it out. It’s filthy, messy, and you’re loving every second, sucking hard, letting it smear across your lips as you tongue-fuck her with everything you’ve got.

She’s melting, you can feel it—her thighs trembling, her breath hitching in these sharp little bursts. “You’re so fucking hungry for me,” she moans, half-laughing, half-wrecked, her leg wobbling on the bed as she opens up even more. “Can’t get enough of my pussy, huh? Look at you, drowning in it.” You groan again, louder, pressing your face so deep into her you can barely breathe, licking up that creamy slick like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted—because it is.

You squeeze her ass harder, pulling her closer, fingers sinking into her thick flesh as you keep going, relentless. Her pussy’s pulsing around your tongue, soaking you, and you’re a fucking mess—face shiny, lips swollen, chin drenched. You slide your tongue out, dragging it up to her clit, sucking it hard, then dipping back down to thrust inside her again, catching more of that cream. It’s coating your mouth now, sticky and sweet, and you’re growling against her, primal, desperate, completely lost in her.

“Fuck, don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop,” she pants, voice breaking, her hips bucking harder, practically riding your face. “You’re gonna make me—shit—” She cuts off, moaning loud, her whole body tensing, and you double down, tongue plunging deep, sucking her inner walls, nose grinding against her clit. Her pussy’s so creamy now it’s spilling out, dripping down your chin, and you’re licking it up, swallowing it, starving for every drop.

She’s shaking hard, leg slipping a little on the bed, but you hold her steady, keeping her open as you push her over the edge. “C’mon, mommy, cum for me,” you mumble into her, voice muffled, needy, and that’s it—she snaps. Her hips jerk, a loud, ragged “Fuck!” ripping out of her as she cums, hard and messy. Her pussy clenches around your tongue, flooding you with more of that thick cream, and you’re drinking it, lapping it up through her shakes, her gasps, her nails digging into your scalp. She’s trembling, falling apart, and you don’t stop—sucking, licking, letting her ride it out until she’s boneless, breathless.

You finally pull back, face drenched—her juices glistening on your mouth, your chin, even your nose. You’re a fucking sight, shiny and wrecked, and she looks down at you, chest heaving, eyes dark and satisfied. She grabs your face, rough but slow, and leans in, tongue darting out to lick across your lips, then your chin, tasting herself on you. It’s filthy, hot, and you just sit there, dazed, letting her do it.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” she murmurs, voice low and raw, dragging her tongue up one last time before kissing you hard, sloppy, her taste all over both of you. She pulls back, smirking, wiping her thumb across your wet mouth. “Such a good boy for me—look at you, all shiny and fucked out from eating my pussy. Did so good, babe.”

You grin, still catching your breath, hands still on her thighs, feeling the heat of her skin. “Anything for you,” you say, and her smirk softens just a little, that dom edge giving way to something softer, something proud. She ruffles your hair, still panting, and you’re sitting there, heart hammering, completely fucking gone for her.

She stands up, all curves and confidence, and nods toward the bed. “C’mon, babe,” she says, voice low and commanding, like she’s summoning you. “Get over here. Time to give you what you deserve.”

Your legs feel like rubber, but you’re up fast, stumbling after her like a fucking puppy, too wrecked to play it cool. She’s already climbing onto the bed, and you follow, heart pounding, dick still hard and aching from everything she’s already done to you. She turns, lying back against the pillows, then pats the spot beneath her, eyes glinting with that dom energy that’s got you hooked. “Lie down,” she orders, and you do—no hesitation, flat on your back, staring up at her like she’s a goddamn goddess.

She swings a leg over you, straddling your chest first, and fuck, the view—her thighs framing your face, her pussy still glistening, her pierced nipples catching the light. She slides down slow, deliberate, until she’s hovering over you, her weight pressing you into the mattress. “This is how it should be,” she says, voice dropping, dark and possessive. “You under me, obeying me, worshiping me like the good boy you are. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, hands twitching at your sides, dying to touch her. “Fuck yeah, Yujin. Always.” Your voice is shaky, raw, and she smirks, loving how gone you are—how you’re hers without even trying.

“Go ahead then,” she murmurs, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her hair tickling your face. “Touch me. Show me how much you’ve missed this.” Your hands move fast, sliding up her thighs, feeling the thick, warm muscle under your palms, then higher, over her hips, her waist, that soft tummy you kissed earlier. She’s solid and real, every inch of her screaming power, and you’re just… lost in it, fingers roaming like you’re trying to memorize her all over again.

She shifts, grabbing your cock with one hand—firm, no bullshit—and you groan, hips jerking up at the contact. “Easy,” she warns, smirking down at you as she lines you up, the tip brushing her pussy, wet and hot and so fucking close. “You’re gonna take what I give you, yeah? No rushing me.”

“Yes, mommy,” you mutter, half-dazed, and her eyes flash, that word lighting her up. She sinks down then, slow and deliberate, and you both sigh—her pussy’s tight, slick, swallowing you inch by inch like it’s meant to. You’re stretching her out, and she’s gripping you so good it’s like she’s pulling you apart. “Fuck,” you gasp, hands clutching her hips now, digging in, and she moans, low and sweet, settling all the way down until you’re buried deep.

“Goddamn, you’re big,” she mutters, almost to herself, adjusting her hips a little, and you feel her clench around you, hot and wet and perfect. “Missed this cock—missed you.” She leans forward, hands braced on your chest, and you still can’t believe it—your Yujin, back on top of you, fucking owning you like this. Her hair falls over her face, and you brush it back, needing to see her, those sharp eyes, that cocky little grin.

She starts moving then, slow at first, rolling her hips like she’s testing you, seeing how long you can last under her. “Look at you,” she says, voice dripping with control, “just lying there, taking it like a good boy. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” She lifts up, then drops back down, harder this time, and you groan loud, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing, trying to pull her in deeper.

“Anything,” you pant, staring up at her, completely fucking surrendered. “You’ve got me—fuck, you’ve always had me.” She’s riding you now, steady and relentless, her pussy gripping you so tight it’s almost too much, cream leaking out, smearing your hips as she moves. Her thighs flex, muscles working, and you’re just holding on, letting her set the pace, letting her use you.

“That’s right,” she growls, leaning down closer, her voice rough against your ear. “You’re mine—my good little boy, letting me fuck you like this. No one else gets this, you hear me? Just me.” She speeds up, slamming down harder, and you’re a mess—moaning, hips bucking up to meet her, but she’s in charge, pinning you down with her weight, her hands digging into your shoulders.

“Fuck, Yujin—mommy, please,” you whimper, and she grins, wild and triumphant, loving how you’re breaking under her. She straightens up, sitting back, bouncing now, her breasts swaying with every thrust, those piercings glinting, and you’re just watching, worshiping, hands roaming her body—her thighs, her ass, her tummy—anywhere you can reach.

“Keep saying it,” she demands, voice sharp, hips grinding down, working your cock so deep you’re seeing stars. “Call me that again—tell me who you belong to.”

“Mommy,” you moan, hands gripping her ass tighter, feeling her clench around you, wet and filthy and so fucking good. “I belong to you—only you. Fuck, Yujin, I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” she snarls, and she’s moving faster now, slamming down onto you, the bed creaking, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think straight—‘til all you know is me.” She’s relentless, dominant, and you’re surrendering completely, lost in her rhythm, in her heat, in the way she’s taking you apart piece by piece. You’re hers, and she’s proving it, and all you can do is moan and hold on as she rides you into oblivion.

Yujin’s still riding you, hips slamming down with that steady, punishing rhythm that’s got your whole body buzzing, the bedframe creaking like it’s about to give out. She’s in total control, her pussy gripping you tight, wet and hot, cream dripping down your cock, pooling on your hips. You’re a fucking wreck beneath her—moaning, hands roaming her body, completely surrendered to the way she’s owning you. Then she shifts, leaning forward, her face hovering just above yours, close enough that you can feel her breath on your lips.

Her eyes lock onto yours, dark and commanding, and one hand slides up your chest to your throat. She wraps her fingers around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make your pulse jump under her grip. “Open your mouth,” she orders, voice low and sharp, like she’s daring you to disobey. You don’t even think about it—your lips part fast, jaw slack, ready for whatever she’s got.

She smirks, pleased, and leans in closer, tilting her head just so. Then she lets it happen—spit pooling on her tongue before she lets it drip, slow and deliberate, right into your waiting mouth. It’s warm, slick, landing on your tongue, and you shudder, tasting her, feeling it slide down your throat as you swallow. It’s filthy, raw, and it’s got your dick throbbing even harder inside her. Before you can even process it, she crashes her lips onto yours, kissing you hard and messy—tongue diving in, mixing her spit with yours, her teeth grazing your lip like she’s claiming you all over again.

She doesn’t stop riding you—not for a second—hips rolling, grinding, keeping you pinned beneath her as her mouth moves against yours. You’re drowning in it—her taste, her heat, the way she’s squeezing your neck just enough to make your head spin. Your hands slide up her body, desperate for more, landing on her breasts. You squeeze, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and she gasps into your mouth, a sharp, sweet moan breaking free. Those piercings make her so damn sensitive, and you can feel it—the way her body reacts, the hitch in her breath, the way her pussy clenches tighter around you.

“Fuck, babe,” she mutters against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, her hand still on your throat, thumb brushing your jaw. “You’re so fucking good—playing with my tits like that.” She’s still moving, hips circling, riding you deep, and you squeeze again, harder this time, rolling your thumbs over her nipples, tugging lightly at the piercings. She moans again, louder, sweeter, her dom edge cracking just a little as the sensitivity hits her full force.

“Shit, that feels—mmph—so good,” she groans, head tipping back for a second, exposing her neck as she rides you, her hand loosening on your throat but still resting there, keeping you in check. You’re obsessed—hands kneading her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way they bounce with every thrust she makes. Her nipples are hard against your palms, the piercings cool and firm, and you pinch them lightly, just to hear that sound again—that soft, desperate moan that slips out of her.

“You like that, huh?” you rasp, voice hoarse, watching her unravel a little, your hands working her over as she fucks you. “So sensitive, mommy—fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she snaps, but it’s breathy, half-lost in the pleasure, and she squeezes your neck again, leaning down to kiss you rough, shutting you up. Her tongue’s aggressive, licking into your mouth, tasting her own spit still lingering there, and you groan, meeting her halfway, kissing her back like you’re starving for it. All the while, she’s riding you hard, pussy soaking you, tight and slick, driving you insane—but you’re not cumming yet, not until she says so. She’s got you locked down, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

You keep playing with her breasts, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipples between your fingers, and she’s melting into it—moaning into your mouth, her hips stuttering just a little as the sensitivity catches her off guard again. “Fuck—babe, you’re gonna make me lose it,” she gasps, pulling back, her lips swollen, eyes dark and wild. “Keep touching me like that—don’t stop.”

“Never,” you mutter, hands roaming her chest, obsessed with how she feels—soft and heavy, the piercings adding this edge that’s got you hooked. She’s still in charge, still dominating you, but you can feel her slipping, her moans getting louder, her pussy fluttering around your cock with every move. You’re surrendered, completely—hands worshiping her, body pinned beneath her, just taking it, letting her ride you into the fucking ground.

Yujin’s riding you like she’s lost her damn mind, hips snapping down faster now, harder, like she’s chasing something she can’t quite reach. The bed’s groaning under the pressure, sheets tangled around your legs, and the room’s thick with the smell of sex—sweat, her, you. She’s a fucking vision above you, hair wild, skin flushed, those pierced nipples bouncing with every thrust. Her pussy’s soaked, gripping you tight, slick and creamy, and you’re so deep inside her it’s like she’s pulling you in, refusing to let go.

She leans forward, her breath hot against your face, and you catch the shift—her dom edge is cracking, slipping into something rawer, needier. “Fuck, babe,” she pants, voice shaky, her hand sliding from your neck to brace against your chest. “You feel so fucking good—don’t stop touching me.” Her thighs are trembling, muscles flexing as she grinds down, and you can feel her getting close, that desperate edge creeping in.

You don’t waste a second—your mouth latches onto her breast, lips closing around her nipple, the cool metal of her piercing pressing against your tongue. You suck hard, flicking it with the tip, and she gasps, loud and sharp, her whole body jerking against you. “Shit—yes, like that,” she moans, her voice breaking, hips stuttering as she rides you even faster. The sensitivity’s killing her, you can tell—those piercings amplifying every move, every graze of your teeth, and she’s losing it, moaning louder, more demanding, like she can’t get enough.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking sensitive,” you mutter against her skin, switching to the other breast, sucking just as hard, your hand squeezing the one you left behind. She whimpers, sweet and needy, and it’s got you reeling—your dick throbs inside her, the heat and pressure building fast. Her pussy’s squeezing you so nice, wet and tight, and you’re right on the edge, barely holding it together.

“Fuck—I’m close,” she gasps, leaning down, her forehead pressing against yours, her eyes half-lidded and wild. “You’re close too, huh? I can feel it—your cock’s fucking pulsing.” She’s panting now, her breath hitching with every thrust, and you nod, words caught in your throat because yeah, you’re right there with her, teetering on the brink.

“Cum with me,” she says, voice dropping low, almost a growl, her hips slamming down mercilessly. “Want you to cum inside me—give me a creampie, babe. Fill me up.” And fuck, that’s hot—your ex never let you, always made you pull out, but Yujin? She’s begging for it, demanding it, and it’s driving you insane. “You want that?” she asks, smirking even as she’s falling apart. “Wanna pump me full?”

“Hell yeah,” you groan, hands gripping her hips now, pulling her down harder, your voice rough and desperate. “Fuck, Yujin, I’d give you anything—gonna fill you up so good.” She moans at that, loud and needy, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice, and you know it’s coming—both of you, barreling toward it together.

She’s relentless now, riding you fast, wild, her hips rolling and grinding like she’s trying to milk you dry. “Come on, babe—cum for mommy,” she pants, voice strained, her nails digging into your chest. “Give it to me—now.” Her pussy’s squeezing you so tight it’s almost painful, wet and hot and pulsing, and you can’t hold back anymore—your whole body locks up, a hoarse “Fuck!” ripping out of you as you cum, hard and deep inside her.

The second she feels it—your hot, thick cum spilling into her—she’s done for. “Shit—yes!” she cries, her voice breaking into this gorgeous, desperate moan as she cums too, her pussy clenching around you, sucking you in deeper. You can feel it—the way your load pumps into her, the way her walls flutter around you, taking it all, and it’s fucking beautiful. She keeps riding you, shaking, her hips jerking as the orgasm rips through her, and you’re gasping, overwhelmed, watching her fall apart on top of you.

“Fuck, Yujin,” you mutter, voice wrecked, hands sliding up to her waist as she slows, still rocking against you, milking every last drop. Her pussy’s dripping now, a mix of her cream and your cum leaking out, smearing across your hips, and she’s trembling, chest heaving, those sweet little moans spilling from her lips as she rides out the aftershocks.

She collapses onto you, heavy and warm, her body pressing you into the mattress, her head resting on your shoulder. You’re both panting, sweaty, and you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, fast and wild like yours. Your hands roam her back, tracing the curve of her spine, and you’re still inside her, still hard, her pussy pulsing faintly around you. For a minute, it’s just that—the quiet, the closeness, the rain tapping the window—and then you open your mouth, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“I love you,” you say, soft and raw. It’s not planned, just spills out, and you feel it—how much you mean it, how much she’s got you twisted up inside.

She lifts her head, slow, looking at you with those dark, sharp eyes, and for a second you think maybe you fucked up, said too much. But then she smiles—those dimples popping, soft and real—and it’s like a weight lifts off you. “I love you too,” she says, voice quiet but steady, leaning down to kiss you, slow and deep, her lips lingering against yours. “You’re mine, you know that? All fucking mine.”

It’s intense—romantic and possessive all at once, and it hits you hard, makes your chest tighten. “Yeah,” you mutter, hands tightening on her hips, pulling her closer even though she’s already plastered against you. “Yours. Always have been.” And it’s true—she’s got you wrapped around her finger, always did, and the idea that a girl like her, this fucking goddess, wants you? It’s insane, a damn miracle, and drives you up the wall.

Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, lifting herself off you with a wet, filthy sound as your cock slips free, still hard, glistening with her cum and yours. She glances down at it, smirking like she’s proud of the mess she’s made, then slides off the bed, standing tall and beckoning you with a lazy flick of her hand.

“C’mon, babe,” she says, voice hoarse but dripping with that dom edge, her dimples flashing as she grins. “Get up. We’re not done—got something else for you.” Her thighs flex as she moves, slick and shiny from the orgasm, and you’re already stumbling out of bed after her, legs shaky but too fucking hooked to care.

She turns, facing you, and steps close—real close—her chest brushing yours, her breath hot on your neck. Then she shifts, spinning around so her back’s to you, ass pressing against your hips, and fuck, the view—those long, juicy thighs, thick and glistening, still wet from everything you just did. She looks over her shoulder, smirking, and reaches back, grabbing your cock with one hand, guiding it right between her legs. “Stand still,” she murmurs, voice low and teasing, as she closes her thighs around you, trapping you there.

“Shit,” you groan, hands flying to her hips on instinct, feeling the soft, warm flesh squeeze your dick tight. Her thighs are soaked—your cum, hers, all mixed together, slick and messy—and it’s fucking perfect. She starts moving, slow and sensual, sliding her thighs back and forth, and it’s like nothing else—soft, juicy, gripping you just right. “Yujin—fuck, that feels so good,” you mutter, voice rough, already half-lost in it.

“Yeah?” she says, glancing back, her voice dripping with dirty satisfaction. “You like this, huh? My thighs fucking you—look at you, babe, already a mess again.” She tightens them, squeezing harder, and you hiss, hips twitching as the pressure hits just right. Her thighs are long, wrapping you up completely, and the way they slide, slow and deliberate, wet and warm, it’s got your head spinning.

“Goddamn, you’re unreal,” you pant, hands sliding down to grip her hips tighter, feeling the muscle flex under your fingers as she works you over. “Missed these thighs—fuck, they’re so soft, so juicy.” You’re babbling now, too caught up to care, and she laughs, low and smug, loving how you’re falling apart.

“Thought you’d like it,” she says, voice husky, picking up the pace just a little, her thighs gliding over your cock, slick and tight. “Gonna keep you right here, babe—nice and cozy between mommy’s legs. You love that, don’t you? Trapped like my good little boy.” Her words are filthy, possessive, and it’s lighting you up, every syllable sinking into you, making you harder, needier.

“Fuck yeah,” you groan, leaning into her, your chest pressing against her back, hands roaming her sides, her ass, anywhere you can reach. “Love it—love you, Yujin. You’re fucking killing me.” Your dick’s throbbing, slick with her juices, and the way she’s got you locked between her thighs, it’s slow torture—sensual as hell, every slide dragging you closer to the edge but not quite there.

She tilts her head back, resting it against your shoulder, and you can feel her smirk, feel the heat of her skin against yours. “Poor thing,” she teases, voice all mock sympathy as she squeezes her thighs again, making you curse under your breath. “Can’t get enough of me, can you? Bet you’d stay like this all night if I let you—fucking my thighs ‘til you’re begging.”

“Please,” you mutter, half-joking, half-desperate, your hands digging into her hips, pulling her back so your cock slides deeper between her legs. “I’d fucking beg for it—you know I would.” She’s got you so wound up, the softness of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to them, it’s unreal, and you’re losing yourself in it, in her.

“Dirty boy,” she murmurs, voice low and pleased, her thighs tightening again as she moves, slow and deliberate, dragging it out. “Look at us—both dripping, all messy from earlier, and you’re still so fucking hard for me. You’re obsessed, babe—fucking obsessed with your mommy.” She rolls her hips just a little, enough to make her thighs shift, and you moan, loud and shameless, because yeah, she’s right—you are.

“Fuck, Yujin—can’t help it,” you say, voice wrecked, leaning forward to kiss her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. “You’re so hot—so fucking perfect. These thighs—shit, I’d die right here.” Your hands slide up, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she sighs, soft and sweet, like she’s enjoying it just as much.

“Mm, keep talking,” she says, voice dipping lower, her thighs sliding faster now, still tight, still wet, the friction building slow and steady. “Tell me how much you love it—how much you love me.” She’s demanding, controlling, and you’re giving in, every word spilling out raw and unfiltered.

“Love you so fucking much,” you pant, hands roaming her body, fingers sinking into her flesh as she works you over. “Love these thighs—love how they feel, how they’re squeezing me. Love your pussy, your ass, every fucking inch of you. You’re a goddess, Yujin—my goddess. Can’t believe you’re mine.” Your lips brush her shoulder, her neck, needy little kisses as your cock throbs between her legs.

She moans, soft and low, her thighs trembling slightly as she keeps going, the sound of her skin against yours wet and filthy. “Fuck, babe—that’s it,” she says, voice breaking a little, her dom edge softening into something needy. “Keep telling me—keep worshiping me. You’re so good at it—my perfect boy.” She tightens her thighs again, slowing down just to tease, and you whimper, hips jerking, desperate for more.

“Shit, you’re amazing,” you mutter, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, pulling her back against you as she moves. “So fucking sexy—so strong. Missed this—missed you. You’ve got me so fucked up, Yujin—can’t think about anything else.” Your dick’s sliding between her thighs, slow and sensual, and it’s driving you insane, the softness, the warmth, the way she’s got you locked in.

“Good,” she growls, picking up the pace a little, her thighs flexing as she squeezes you tighter. “That’s how it should be—you thinking about me, needing me. No one else gets this—gets you—like I do. You’re mine, babe—fucking mine.”

“Yeah—yours,” you gasp, hands gripping her harder, feeling the tension building, your cock throbbing with every slide. “Always yours—fuck, Yujin, I’d do anything for you.” She’s got you so close, the slow drag of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to her skin, it’s all too much, but you don’t want it to end—you want to stay here, wrapped up in her, forever.

She turns her head slightly, lips brushing your jaw, her breath hot and uneven. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re wrecked like this,” she murmurs, voice soft but still commanding. “All needy and hard for me—bet you’d cum right now if I told you to, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you groan, hips twitching, your dick pulsing between her thighs as she keeps that tight, sensual grip. “Just say it—please, mommy, tell me.” You’re begging now, shameless, and she laughs, low and dirty, loving how you’re breaking under her.

“Not yet,” she says, voice firm, slowing her movements just enough to keep you on the edge. “Gonna make you wait—gonna make you earn it. You’re gonna cum when I say, and not a fucking second before.” Her thighs squeeze again, and you moan, loud and ragged, your hands sliding up to her back, clutching her like she’s the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shit—please, Yujin,” you mutter, voice cracking, your whole body trembling as she keeps you there, teetering. “You’re so fucking good—so perfect. Love you—fuck, I love you so much.” It’s spilling out, raw and desperate, and she hums, pleased, her thighs sliding slow and deliberate, keeping you locked in that sweet, torturous rhythm.

“Love you too, babe,” she whispers, turning her head to kiss you, slow and deep, her tongue teasing yours as she keeps fucking you with her thighs. “My good boy—my perfect little toy. Gonna take care of you—gonna give you everything.”

Yujin’s got you pinned in this tight, sensual cocoon of her thighs, and it’s like she’s crafted this moment just to drive you fucking insane. Your dick’s rubbing right up against her pussy now—not inside, just grazing her lips, teasing her clit with every pass—and she’s moaning, soft and low, this needy little sound that’s got your head spinning. The wetness of her, the heat, it’s all mixing with your cum from before, dripping down between her thighs, making everything so goddamn slippery and filthy. You’re a mess, hands shaking, and they fly up to her breasts on instinct, fingers sinking into that soft, sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, babe,” she groans, her voice rough and thick with pleasure as you squeeze her tits, thumbs brushing over those pierced nipples that make her whole body jolt. “Yeah—keep doing that, keep touching me.” Her thighs tighten even more, squeezing your cock harder, and you can feel her pussy lips parting slightly, your shaft sliding right along her slit, catching every bit of her slickness. She’s dripping again—her arousal mixing with the cum leaking out of you—and it’s driving you wild, the way she’s grinding against you, her moans syncing up with every slow, sensual drag.

Your hands knead her breasts, rougher now, pinching those sensitive nipples just to hear her gasp, and she’s losing it—her dom edge softening into something raw and desperate. “Shit—your cock feels so good,” she mutters, head tilting back against your shoulder, her hair sticking to your sweaty skin. “Rubbing me just right—fuck, I could cum like this.” She speeds up, thighs working you faster, wet and messy, and you’re groaning, hips bucking up to meet her, your dick throbbing so hard it’s almost painful. The friction’s intense, her pussy lips slick and hot, sliding over you, and you’re leaking a lot now—precum oozing out, dripping down her thighs, mixing with everything else. She glances down, sees it, and moans louder, voice breaking into this dirty little laugh.

“Goddamn, babe—look at that,” she says, panting, her thighs squeezing tighter as she watches your cum run down her legs. “Leaking all over me—fucking love that. You’re such a mess for me, huh?” She’s reveling in it, the way you’re losing control, the way she’s got you spilling without even cumming yet, and it’s pushing her harder, her movements getting sloppier, more frantic. “Gonna milk you dry like this—fuck, you’re so hard still.” Her words are raw, filthy, and it’s got you reeling, hands gripping her tits, thumbs rolling over her piercings again just to hear that sweet, needy moan spill out of her.

“Fuck, Yujin—don’t stop,” as your hips jerk, chasing the rhythm she’s setting. She’s moaning too, her pussy quivering against your cock, and you can feel it—she’s close, teetering on the edge just from this teasing, grinding tightjob. But then she shifts, pulling away just when you think she’s about to lose it, and you groan, half in protest, half in desperation. She turns her head, smirking down at you, her eyes dark and wild. “Not yet,” she says, voice hoarse but firm. “We’re switching it up.”

Before you can even process it, she’s sliding off you, your cock slick and shiny from her thighs, still leaking, still aching. She grabs your arm, tugging you gently but with that no-bullshit strength, and you follow, stumbling to the edge of the bed. You sit there, legs spread, chest heaving, and she steps right up between them, turning so her back’s to you again. “Stay right there,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder with that cocky little grin, dimples flashing, and you’re nodding, too wrecked to argue.

She grabs your cock, firm and sure, giving it a slow stroke that makes you hiss, your hands flying to her hips. Then she lines you up, her pussy hovering just above you—wet, creamy, glistening—and sinks down, slow and deliberate, taking you in inch by fucking inch. You both sigh, loud and shaky, as she settles onto your lap, her ass pressed tight against your hips, your cock buried deep inside her. “Fuck,” you groan, head tipping back, hands gripping her waist like you’re afraid she’ll vanish again. “You’re—so fucking tight, Yujin.”

“Yeah?” she says, starting to move—small bounces at first, testing you, her pussy squeezing you so good it’s got your eyes rolling back. “I love this cock stretching me out, babe.” She’s still got her back to you, and it’s a goddamn sight—her ass bouncing, her thighs flexing, all that juicy thickness working you over as she rides you reverse. Your hands slide down, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she moans, picking up the pace, slamming down harder now.

“Shit—look at you,” you mutter, voice rough, watching her move, the way her pussy swallows you whole, creamy and dripping, leaving a slick ring around your base. “Riding me like a fucking pro—fuck, you’re so hot.” You’re babbling, too caught up to care, and she loves it—you can tell by the way she moans, louder, needier, her hips rolling as she bounces, driving you deeper with every drop.

“Gonna fuck you senseless,” she gasps, hands bracing on your knees now for leverage, her body rocking back against you, fast and filthy. “My good boy—taking it so well, letting me use you like this.” Her pussy’s gripping you tight, pulsing, and you’re groaning with every thrust, your hands roaming her ass, her thighs, anywhere you can reach. She’s relentless, ass slapping against your hips, the wet sound of her pussy on your cock filling the room, and it’s got you on fire, every nerve screaming for more.

“Fuck, Yujin—harder,” you growl, hands digging into her flesh, pulling her down rougher, and she obliges—just slams onto you, her moans turning into these sweet, broken little cries. “Love this—love you,” you mutter, half-aware, your dick throbbing inside her, leaking more cum now, dripping out with every bounce. She’s feeling it too—her pussy’s quivering, soaking you, and she glances back, smirking even as she’s panting.

“Love me, huh?” she teases, voice breathy, slowing down just enough to grind her hips, dragging your cock inside her slow and deep. “Keep saying it—fucking love hearing it.” She’s got you pinned, emotionally, physically, her pussy squeezing you so tight you’re seeing stars.

“Love you—fuck, I love you so much,” you say, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, guiding her as she picks up speed again. “You’re everything—fucking everything.” She moans at that, loud and sweet, her pussy clenching, and you’re both a mess—sweaty, sticky, her thighs slick with cum and arousal, your cock leaking inside her, making every thrust wetter, sloppier.

She’s bouncing on you now, harder, faster, like she’s on a fucking mission, her pussy gripping you so tight it’s like she’s trying to wring you out. She’s not slowing down—hell no—she shifts her hand down between her legs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in quick, sloppy circles. “Fuck, babe,” she pants, voice high and shaky, her head tipping back so her hair brushes your chest. “Gonna cum—need it so bad—gonna cum all over your cock.” Her desperation’s thick, raw.

She’s wild now, moaning like she’s lost it, her thighs trembling, her pussy soaking you—wet, creamy, dripping down your shaft as she rides you. “Shit—look at me,” she gasps, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and frantic, those dimples nowhere in sight now—just pure, unfiltered need. “You feel that? How fucking wet I am? All for you—fuck, you drive me insane.” Her fingers are working her clit faster, her moans turning into these sharp, needy little cries, and you’re just holding on, groaning, your dick throbbing inside her, so close but not there yet because she’s got you under her spell, waiting for her to call the shots.

“Goddamn, Yujin,” you mutter, voice rough, hands digging into her hips as she slams down, over and over, her ass jiggling against you, the wet slap of her skin on yours filling the room. “You’re so fucking hot—ride me, fuck, don’t stop.” She’s relentless, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce, her fingers rubbing herself sloppy and fast, and you can feel it—her walls fluttering, her body shaking, she’s right on the edge. “Cum for me,” you growl, hands sliding up to grip her waist, pulling her down harder. “Wanna feel it—c’mon, mommy, soak me.”

That does it—she snaps, her whole body locking up as she cums, hard and loud, a broken “Fuck—babe!” ripping out of her as her pussy clamps down on you like a vice, pulsing, gushing, her thighs quaking against yours. She’s shaking, gasping, her fingers still circling her clit as she rides it out, and holy shit, the way she squeezes you—it’s intense, almost too much, your cock leaking more, dripping inside her, but you hold it together, barely. She’s moaning, desperate and sweet, her bounces turning erratic, sloppy, like she’s milking every last shudder out of herself, and you’re just watching, mesmerized, your hands roaming her ass, her back, feeling her unravel.

“Shit,” she pants, slowing down, her chest heaving as she leans back against you, her pussy still twitching around your cock. “That was—fuck, so good.” She’s trembling, catching her breath, but then she turns her head, looks at you with those wild eyes, and you know she’s not done—she’s got more in her. “You’re close too, huh?” she says, voice ragged but teasing, her hand sliding down to where you’re still buried inside her, feeling how hard you are. “I can tell—fuck, you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, hips twitching up into her, your voice wrecked. “So fucking close—Yujin, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish, too wound up, and she grins, wicked and sharp, sliding off your lap in one smooth move. Your cock slips free, slick and shiny, still leaking, and she drops to her knees in front of you, grabbing it with both hands before you can even catch your breath.

“Give it to me,” she says, stroking you fast, her hands tight and slippery from all the mess. “Cum in my mouth—want it all over my tongue, babe. C’mon, give it to mommy.” She’s pumping you now, relentless, her grip firm, and you’re moaning loud, no holding back, the sound ripping out of you as your hands fly to her hair, gripping, guiding her. She’s so fucking good—too good—her hands working you like she’s done it a thousand times, and the way she’s looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, begging for it, it’s shredding you.

“Fuck—please, Yujin,” you gasp, voice breaking, your hips bucking as she strokes faster, her tongue darting out to teased the tip, flicking over it, salty and wet. “Gonna cum—shit, I’m gonna cum so hard.” She’s moaning now, soft little hums against your cock, egging you on, and she’s begging—begging—her voice dripping with lust. “Do it—cum for me, babe—fucking cum, I need it.”

That’s it—you’re gone, groaning loud and ragged as your cock pulses, the first spurt hitting her tongue, hot and thick, and she takes it, opening her mouth wider, stroking you through it. “Fuck—yes!” you mutter, hips jerking, and she’s pumping you, milking you, cum spilling out—spurt after spurt, more than you thought you had left after all that leaking. It’s a lot, coating her tongue, dripping from her lips, and she doesn’t stop, hands sliding, squeezing every last drop out of you until you’re shaking, gasping, your cock twitching, hypersensitive as hell.

She pulls back, slow and deliberate, her tongue curling out to show you—white and thick, pooled there, a fucking mess—and you’re just staring, chest heaving, completely wrecked. “Look at that,” she murmurs, smirking, then closes her mouth, swallowing it down slow, savoring it like it’s some gourmet shit. She leans in after, licking the tip of your cock—soft, careful, but it’s so sensitive you flinch anyway, a shaky “Fuck, Yujin” slipping out as she cleans you up, every swipe of her tongue making you twitch.

She stands then, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning wide—those dimples popping, but there’s nothing innocent about her now. You’re still gasping, pleasure buzzing through you, when she steps close, grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her skin’s hot, sticky with sweat and cum, and she’s dominating—her grip firm, her eyes locking onto yours like she’s staking a claim all over again. “You’re mine,” she says, voice low, intense, her fingers digging into your sides. “Officially—fucking mine. No thinking about other girls, no looking at them, nothing. Everything you’ve got—it’s for me now. Got it?”

You nod, fast, still too fucked out to argue, your hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. “Yeah—promise,” you mutter, voice hoarse but sure. “All yours, Yujin—no one else. Swear.”

Her grin softens, those dimples turning almost cute, and she leans in, kissing you deep, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you, tasting herself. “Good boy,” she whispers against your lips. “I love you—fuck, I really do.”

“Love you too,” you say back, raw and immediate, your hands tightening on her, pulling her in so there’s no space between you. “So fucking much, Yujin—you’ve got no idea.” It’s intense—this pull between you, this messy, wild, overwhelming thing—and you’re both standing there, breathing hard, wrapped up in each other like nothing else exists.

She smirks again, that playful edge creeping back, her hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing. “Oh, I’ve got some idea,” she teases, pressing herself against you, and fuck, you’re still half-hard, still twitchy from everything she’s done. “You’re crazy for me—and I’m crazy for you. We’re stuck like this, babe—deal with it.” She laughs, low and dirty, and you’re grinning too, helpless, because yeah—you’re in deep, and it’s exactly where you wanna be.

—

You stir awake, the kind of groggy wake-up where your limbs feel heavy and the world’s still fuzzy, like you’re wading through a dream that hasn’t quite let go. The room’s bathed in this soft, gray light, the rain still pattering against the window in a slow, hypnotic rhythm—same as yesterday, like the weather’s stuck on repeat. You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and that’s when you feel her—Yujin’s stare, warm and steady, prickling your skin before you even turn your head. She’s right there, propped up on one elbow, lying on her side, and fuck, she’s a vision—dangerous, sexy, like some kind of predator playing house. Just that tank top, white and worn-in, stretched thin over her chest so you can see the faint outline of her nipple piercings pushing against it, and these tiny panties, barely hanging onto her hips. Her hair’s a tangled mess, spilling over her shoulder, and she’s got this lazy, smug smile, like she’s already claimed the morning—and you—before you’ve even had a chance to catch your breath.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says, voice low and scratchy, still thick with sleep but laced with that teasing edge she’s got down to an art. She stretches, slow and deliberate, arching her back so the tank top rides up, showing off the smooth plane of her stomach, the dip of her navel, and you’re already hooked, eyes tracing every inch like you haven’t seen it a hundred times before. “Slept like a fucking rock, huh? Guess I wore you out.” She slides closer, her bare leg brushing yours under the sheets, warm and soft, and it’s so easy, so natural, like she’s picking up right where she left off—like the months of chaos, the screaming matches, the way she’d smashed a plate against the wall and told you you’d regret leaving, never happened.

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice rough, still waking up as you shift to sit up a little, the sheets slipping down to your hips. “Guess I needed it.” You catch a glimpse of her thigh, thick and glistening faintly in the dim light, and there’s this flash in your head—her voice, sharp and venomous, “You think you can do better? Good fucking luck,” the way her eyes had burned with something wild, something that made your stomach twist with fear and want all at once. But now she’s here, soft and close, her hand already sliding up your arm, fingers curling around your bicep like she’s testing her grip, and it’s hard to hold onto that memory when she’s looking at you like this—like you’re hers, and she’s never doubted it.

She leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, then pulls back, smirking as she swings her legs off the bed. “C’mon, let’s get coffee—rain’s not stopping, so we’re staying in. My rules.” She’s up now, padding across the hardwood, her tank top barely covering her ass, those panties hugging her hips just right, and you’re watching, shameless, because how could you not? She glances back over her shoulder, catching you staring, and her smirk turns sharper, dimples flashing like a trap snapping shut. “Like the view? Better get used to it—gonna be seeing a lot of me around here.”

You follow, slower, your feet hitting the cold floor as you drag yourself out of bed, boxers hanging low on your hips, still half-dazed from sleep and her. The apartment smells faintly of last night—sweat, her perfume, something musky and lived-in—and the rain’s a dull roar outside, sealing you in this little bubble with her. She’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets like she owns them, pulling out mugs, coffee grounds, moving with this easy confidence. “Found the good shit,” she says, holding up the bag of beans you’d forgotten about, some overpriced blend you’d bought on a whim. “You’ve been holding out on me—thought you were all instant crap now.”

“Nah, just lazy,” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as you watch her work the coffee maker like it’s hers. She’s humming under her breath, some tune you don’t recognize, and it’s so domestic, so fucking normal, it’s messing with you—because the last time you saw her, she was screaming, “You’ll come crawling back, watch,” her voice cracking as she’d shoved your stuff into a bag, tears streaking her face. Now she’s here, barefoot, pouring water into the machine, her tank top slipping off one shoulder, and it’s like that never happened—like you’re picking up from some perfect moment that never broke.

She turns, catching your eye, and steps closer, sliding her hands up your chest, fingers brushing your collarbone. “You’re quiet,” she murmurs, tilting her head, her breath warm against your jaw. “What’s up? Thinking about how lucky you are to have me back?” She’s teasing, but there’s this weight in her words, this quiet insistence, and you feel it—this flicker of something off, something that makes your throat tighten. But then she kisses you, soft and slow, her lips tasting faintly of toothpaste, and it’s gone, washed away by the heat of her mouth, the way her body presses into yours.

“Lucky as hell,” you say, forcing a grin, your hands finding her hips, sliding under the tank top to feel the bare skin of her waist. “Still can’t believe you’re here—thought I’d wake up and you’d be a ghost.” It’s half a joke, half true, and she laughs, soft and low, pulling back to grab the mugs as the coffee maker gurgles, filling the room with that rich, bitter smell.

“Not a ghost,” she says, handing you a mug, black and steaming, her fingers brushing yours as she does. “Real as fuck—sticking around this time.” She takes a sip, leaning against the counter opposite you, her legs crossed at the ankles, and it’s a picture—her in your kitchen, rain streaking the windows, the world outside blurry and distant. “Gonna make this place mine again—you cool with that?”

“Yeah,” you say, sipping your coffee, the heat biting your tongue as you watch her over the rim. “Feels right—having you here.” And it does—too right, maybe, because there’s this quiet hum in your head, this shadow of her voice, “You’re nothing without me,” the way she’d cried and clung to you after the fights, promising it’d be different, only to blow up again days later. But now she’s calm, sipping coffee, her tank top slipping down one shoulder, her eyes warm and steady, and it’s easy to shove that noise down, to let the moment wrap around you like a blanket.

She sets her mug down, stepping closer again, her hands sliding up your arms, resting on your shoulders. “Good,” she murmurs, kissing you again, quick this time, her lips soft and familiar. “Cause I’m not letting you out of my sight—lazy day, just us. Rain’s got us trapped anyway.” She pulls you toward the couch, tugging you down with her, and you go, coffee abandoned on the counter, your body sinking into the cushions as she curls up against you, her head on your chest, one leg slung over yours like she’s anchoring you there.

“Love this,” she says, voice muffled against your shirt, her fingers tracing lazy lines on your stomach. “You and me—chill, no bullshit. Missed it—missed you.” She tilts her head up, smiling, those dimples making her look almost sweet, almost innocent, and your chest tightens—love, yeah, but something else too, something you can’t name. “You’re not gonna fuck this up again, right?” she teases, but her eyes linger, searching, and you feel it—this quiet pressure, this need to say what she wants to hear.

“Nah,” you say, brushing her hair back, your hand resting on her neck, thumb grazing her pulse. “Not letting you go—love you too much.” It’s true, raw, spilling out easy, and she hums, satisfied, nestling closer, her body warm and solid against you. The rain keeps falling, a steady drone, and you’re here, tangled up with her, the past a faint echo you can barely hear over her breathing. She’s got you—completely—and you’re telling yourself it’s luck, pure fucking luck, that someone like her—sharp, beautiful, unstoppable—wants you this bad, needs you this close. And she’s smiling, marking you with every touch, every word, like she’s never been anything but yours.

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Savanaclaw

Go here for other dorms

Leona Kingscholar

You find Leona sprawled out under his favorite tree, one arm draped over his eyes, looking about two seconds away from a nap.

Typical.

You take a deep breath, shoving down every ounce of nervousness, and step closer, holding out the neatly wrapped box. “Here.”

Leona cracks one eye open, lazily glancing at the chocolates like you just handed him an average Tuesday. With a low hum, he takes them, rolling the box in his hand with a raised brow.

“Hm? What’s this for?”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you think it’s for?”

He stretches, completely unbothered, as if he gets gifted chocolates all the time (which, okay, maybe he does, but that’s not the point right now).

“Dunno," he drawls, clearly messing with you. "You bribing me for something?”

Your eye twitches. “Leona.”

He huffs a laugh, finally looking at you, amusement flickering in his gaze. And then you say it.

"Happy Valentine’s Day."

And oh.

It’s like you hit him with a truck.

His smirk falters for half a second, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the box. His pupils dilate—a barely-there shift, but you catch it.

He goes quiet. Not his usual lazy, I-don't-care quiet, but the kind that comes when he’s actually processing something.

Then, so smoothly it almost throws you off, he leans back, a slow, pleased grin spreading across his face.

"…Took you long enough," he murmurs, sounding downright smug.

Your heart does a stupid flip. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Leona ignores you, already sitting up properly, one arm resting lazily over his knee. "Pick a nice place for dinner tonight," he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. "On me, of course."

You blink. "What?"

He taps the box. "These chocolates. They’re from you. To me." He tilts his head, all sharp confidence and warmth. "That makes us partners now, doesn’t it?"

Your brain short-circuits. “I—wait, what—"

"Better choose somewhere good," he continues, completely unbothered by your struggling. "I’m not wasting our first date on cheap takeout."

Your heart is going through it.

Leona smirks. "Oh? What’s with that look?"

You swear you see his tail flick just slightly, the only sign of how incredibly pleased he is.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "You’re doing this on purpose."

He chuckles, leaning in just close enough to murmur, "Yeah, yeah. You still like me, though."

…You’re doomed.

Ruggie Bucchi

You barely get the chance to say anything before Ruggie spots the chocolates in your hands. His sharp eyes flicker to the heart-shaped box, and he immediately grins.

“Oooh, what’s this?” He leans in slightly, tail swishing with interest. “Someone confess to ya?”

You blink. “Huh? No.”

He tilts his head, playful and curious. “Oh? Then, uh… you gonna keep it?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

His grin widens. “Because if ya don’t want it, I can, y’know… dispose of it for ya.”

You snort. “Ruggie, you just wanna eat it.”

“Duh.” He laughs, not even bothering to deny it. “Be a shame to waste good chocolate, right?”

Typical Ruggie.

You shake your head, amused, before finally shoving the box toward him. “Good thing it’s for you, then.”

Ruggie pauses.

It’s subtle, the way his ears perk up, the way his tail stiffens mid-swing. His grip on the box is light at first, almost hesitant, like he’s making sure he heard you right.

“For me?” His voice comes out softer, almost cautious.

You nod, suddenly a little shy under his gaze. “Yeah. I like you. So, you know… Happy Valentine’s Day.”

For the first time, Ruggie looks completely, utterly stunned.

His mouth parts slightly, blinking up at you like his brain just hit a temporary loading screen. And honestly? He looks adorable.

Then—just as quickly as the surprise hit—he recovers.

Ruggie grins, his usual confidence flickering back into place as he shifts the box under one arm. “Well, well. Ain’t this a nice surprise?”

You raise a brow. “You okay there?”

“Pfft. ‘Course I am!” He laughs, shaking his head. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Then—softer, warmer, but still undeniably Ruggie— “I like you too, y’know.”

Your heart stumbles.

He notices, obviously, because his grin turns downright cheeky. “Heh. Look at you, getting all flustered."

“Oh, shut up.”

He just laughs again, effortlessly slipping his fingers through yours, tugging you along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “C’mon, let’s go. Can’t let all this romantic energy go to waste, right?”

And just like that—you’re dragged along.

Jack Howl

Jack is not the kind of guy who gets flustered easily. He’s tough, level-headed, always the first to brush things off with that no-nonsense attitude of his.

Which is why seeing him completely short-circuit is so incredibly satisfying.

You hold out the chocolates, your heart hammering as you say, “These are for you. I like you, Jack. Happy Valentine’s.”

His ears shoot straight up. His tail freezes mid-sway. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but—nothing.

No words. No sound. Just pure, stunned silence.

You wait.

And wait.

Jack still says nothing.

But his tail? His tail is betraying him completely.

It explodes into motion, wagging so fast that you swear he’s about to lift off like a helicopter. NASA is calling. He’s about to reach orbit.

“…Jack?” you prompt, biting back a smile.

He blinks rapidly, as if rebooting, and finally—finally—manages to form words.

“I—” He clears his throat, cheeks flushed, voice a little strained. “I like you too.”

Your heart skips.

Jack rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side like he’s gathering his courage. “Are you, uh… free tonight?”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He shifts awkwardly. The tail is still going. “Because I wanna take you on a date.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I’d like that.”

Jack nods, determined, as if locking this in before fate can take it away. “Good. I’ll—I’ll plan something nice.”

You have never seen him this flustered. It is absolutely adorable.

And judging by the way his tail refuses to stop wagging, you’re pretty sure he’s never been this happy, either.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[pholla-jm]

Meet My Wife

IMAGINE: MEET MY WIFE~ LUFFY X F!READER GENRE: FLUFF warnings: f!reader implied. not proof read. slight cursing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy seemed more excited than usual. I mean, he’s always bouncing off the wall. But it was like he was expecting something and he couldn’t wait for it. 

“What do you think he’s excited about?” Chopper asks Nami.” She just sighs and waves her hand around, “knowing him. He’s probably excited about food.” 

Little did they know, they were about to be in a world of shock. 

Luffy did not waste a single second jumping off the boat as soon as it docked. He continued to run straight into town, like he knew exactly where he was going. 

The rest of the crew just watched him, some in confusion and some of them looked exhausted. Sanji sighs, taking a deep breath of his cigarette. “He’s most likely going to cause trouble.” Nami sighs, already feeling a headache form because of her idiot captain. 

However, it wasn’t food or a new adventure that got him this excited. No, it was someone who was very important to him. He remembered the instructions very clearly. He couldn’t forget it. Just follow the path, there are going to be white flowers along the path. It should lead all the way down to a small house with flowers and different plants all around the place. 

His eyes grew wide seeing the variety of plants and flowers, knowing that you had planted these yourself. The door opens and a large smile covers his face. 

“(y/n)!” He shouts, grabbing your attention. He ran at you, full force and it looked like he wasn’t going to stop. You drop the empty basket you were carrying, fully prepared for him to throw himself onto you. 

And you were right. His body crashes into you. His arms and legs wrapping around you, and he nuzzles his face into your cheek. The first thing he notices is how soft your skin feels against him. The second thing he notices is how sweet you smell. You smelled like fresh laundry, but with a hint of something sweet, like you were just baking. 

“Luffy.” You softly say with a smile on your face. “I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon… I missed you.” You whisper the last part. “I missed you too.” Lufffy pulls back, letting you go a bit. “Are you making something?” He asks. 

You nod your head, “yes. It’s actually almost done. Would you like to try some?” He immediately nods his head yes and you laugh. “I don’t know why I asked. Of course you would. Come inside.” 

He completely lets you go now, and you pick up the empty basket heading back inside. 

The sweet scent is stronger and Luffy basically salivates at the smell. You grab a cloth, pulling out the fresh strawberries and cream croissants. There were only a few, since you weren’t expecting company. 

“Careful, they’re hot.” You say but he doesn’t care. He’s already stuffing his mouth with a croissant. 

His eyes widen and there’s a smile on his face. “They're so good!” He says while grabbing another one. You laugh, “wait. Save one for me.” You grab the last one, taking a bite of it. You were glad how good they came out. 

Once he scarfs down the second croissant, he looks at you and clears his throat. “You should meet my crew!” He says like it was another Tuesday.  

Your eyes widen. “Really?” You ask and he nods his head. “Of course!” You suddenly got nervous and wondered what his crew was like. They had to be nice, right? Luffy only accepted the best of the best. So what would they think of you?

“Like right now?” 

Luffy stands up, “yeah!” He grabs onto your arm and drags you out of the small house. 

“W-wait! Wait! Let me at least clean myself up.” You try to tell him but it falls upon deaf ears. 

You were now leaving your property, and Luffy must've thought you were moving too slow because he suddenly picks you up bridal style. His arms securely wrapped underneath your legs and the other one supporting your back. 

You let out a small gasp, surprised at the action. It had you a bit flustered as he ran back to what you could assume was his ship. 

He was running for about five minutes until the both of you arrived at the port. Multiple ships lined up on the dock, but there was one that stood out to you. A ship with a sheep head. It was… cute. 

You could see people walking on the ship, minding their own business. Until they spot their captain holding some girl. 

The redhead girl gasps, gaining the attention of the other crewmates. 

“Holy shit, Luffy! Did you kidnap someone?!” Nami shouts, a bit horrified. 

Luffy just laughs as he jumps onto the ship, causing you to let out a short yelp at the unexpected height change. 

“No,” Luffy laughs while placing you down, “I want you to meet my wife.” He announces causing everyone on the ship to gasp. Your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed up at his announcement. There was no way he still thinks that the wedding was real…

“What?!” A blonde male shrieks, “you’re telling me that this idiot right here is actually married.” “Yup!” Luffy says with a proud smile on his face and his fists on his hips. “No, I don’t believe it.” Another male says while shaking his head. 

“Well believe it. We kissed and everything. It was official.” He says, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment. You had no idea that Luffy was going to introduce you like this. 

The blonde male cries out, shouting how unfair the universe was. 

“(y/n).” Luffy says while grabbing onto your wrist. He pulls you forward, “I want you to meet my crew!” 

He points at the blonde, “that’s Sanji, our cook.” He then points at the woman, “Nami, our navigator.” He then points at the curly headed man, “Usopp, aaaaand,” he points at the sleeping man with green hair, “Zoro.” 

“Everyone, this is (y/n). My wife!” He pulls you again. This time you were pressed up against him. You honestly felt like you were on fire. 

You wondered how strange this must've looked for them. And you honestly wanted to clear things up.

“B-but Luffy.” You whisper, gaining his attention. “We got married as kids. Kids, Lu.” You emphasize the words kid, hoping that he would get the hint. 

“Oh, yeah.” He says like he almost forgot something important, “I have these.” He pulls out two rings. The same poorly made rings that were made as kids. 

You grab one of the rings, feeling the familiar flutter in your heart. Luffy smiles, “I think they’re too small now. But that’s okay. We can make new ones.” 

A blush dusts your cheeks. It was really sweet that he still considers you his wife. “Yeah… that actually sounds really nice.” 

“Shishishi, I knew you would like that.”

Well... maybe things didn't have to be cleared up right away. Let the crew think the strange things.

[aajjks]

Stuck With You. (m)

synopsis. Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY!

pt 2 on high demand.

You are absolutely going to lose your mind. Not because you’re stuck in a room—

no, that part isn’t even the problem. It’s who you’re stuck with.

“Don’t look so mad, babe. You’ll get wrinkles,” Jungkook says, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the place.

His black t-shirt clings to his annoyingly perfect body, and his smug grin stretches wider every time he catches your glare.

“You’re the reason we’re stuck in here, you idiot,” you snap, pacing the room. “Who even breaks a doorknob while trying to open the door?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “The thing was loose—like, super loose. I barely touched it.”

You stop pacing and point at him. “You yanked it like you were in a strongman competition!”

Jungkook shrugs, like being accused of destroying things is just another Tuesday for him. “Maybe. But hey, at least we’ve got… each other?” His grin turns into that stupid wink he loves so much.

You groan and flop onto the bed. It creaks under your weight, and you make a face because this feels like the start of a very bad rom-com. “I can’t believe this. I have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook leans against the bedpost, towering over you with that annoyingly pretty face of his. “Relax, princess. I’m sure someone will fix it soon. Meanwhile…” His eyes trail down your body in that blatant, shameless way that only Jungkook can pull off. “…you’re looking pretty comfortable.”

“Stop staring at my tits, Jeon.” You cross your arms over your chest, even though you know it won’t stop him.

This is seriously ridiculous.

“I wasn’t,” he lies, biting back a grin.

“You were.”

“Okay, I was,” he admits, laughing. He flops down onto the bed beside you, making the mattress bounce slightly. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “But you can’t really blame me. They’re right there.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it, hard enough to knock some of the smugness out of him. He lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Abuse! yn, you’re abusing me!”

“You deserve it!” you say, your voice rising with every word.

you like being evil.

“Oh, come on.” He shifts closer, so close his shoulder brushes against yours. His voice drops, teasing and low. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You scoff. “I’d celebrate.”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Cold. That was cold, yn.” He shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. “You’d be crying without me to entertain you.”

“I’d cry tears of joy.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin widening. Then he leans in, his voice dropping again. “But… if you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it on my shoulder, babe.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his tone. His big, stupid eyes are focused on you, and for once, they’re not looking at your chest.

You roll your eyes to hide how flustered you feel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he fires back, leaning in even closer. His breath tickles your skin, and you shove him away before he gets any ideas.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as he lays back on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “But if I told you, you’d probably hit me again.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, loud and carefree, and it’s so annoying that you can’t help but smile a little.

Even though he’s so fucking annoying.

Time passes slower than it should. You’re lying back now, one arm thrown over your face to block out the overhead light, trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that you’re stuck in a room with Jeon Jungkook.

“yn,” Jungkook says after a while, his tone softer now.

“What?” you ask without looking at him.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know… entertain me?”

You pull your arm off your face and give him a deadpan look. “What am I, a clown?”

His grin returns, and you immediately regret your choice of words. “You could put on a show for me, babe.”

You groan. “Shut up, Jeon.”

“Or,” he says, his voice dipping lower as he rolls onto his side to face you, “we could play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare with you, Jungkook. I know how your brain works.”

He pouts, and it’s so absurdly dramatic that you almost laugh. Almost. “You’re no fun, yn.”

“Good. I don’t want to be fun.”

Jungkook sits up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” you repeat, suspicious.

“Yeah.” His grin turns wicked. “If we’re still stuck in here after another hour, you have to go on a real date with me.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Take it or leave it, babe.”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “And what happens if we get out of here before the hour’s up?”

Jungkook’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll stop making inappropriate jokes for a week.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

You stare at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to regret this when we’re out of here in twenty minutes.”

Jungkook just smirks, his confidence radiating off him in waves. “We’ll see, babe.”

And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of hope you lose.

You stare at him, his stupid is grin practically glowing in the dim light of the room. He’s lying on his side now, looking way too comfortable, while you’re still sitting upright like you’re waiting for a rescue team.

“You seem a little tense,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your eye twitch.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, gesturing to the locked door. “Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in here with a man-child who thinks ‘truth or dare’ is an appropriate solution to boredom.”

Jungkook props his head up on one hand, his biceps flexing in a way that feels intentional. “I’m just saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun. And let’s face it, yn, no one else makes you laugh like I do.”

You snort, leaning back against the headboard. “You don’t make me laugh. You make me want to scream.”

“Same thing,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You hate that he’s right.

As much as you want to throttle him half the time, the other half? You’re too busy laughing at his ridiculousness to care.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Let’s play your stupid game.”

Jungkook perks up immediately, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you say, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You blink at him, stunned by his audacity, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says, his smirk growing. “Come on, yn. Be honest.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating against your will. “Fine. You’re… decent-looking.”

He’s very hot, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Decent-looking?” He clutches his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Good,” you say, fighting back a grin.

“Your turn,” he says, recovering quickly. “Truth or dare?”

You pause, considering your options. “Dare.”

His smirk turns dangerous, and you immediately regret your decision. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’s just a dare,” he says, his tone deceptively innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I murder you in cold blood, for starters.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back against the pillows like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re no fun.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It is when you’re this cute.”

You throw a pillow at his face, and he catches it effortlessly, laughing as he tosses it back at you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you’re lying side by side now, both of you staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now, “this isn’t so bad.”

You turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowing. “Being locked in a room?”

“Being stuck with you,” he says, and for once, there’s no teasing in his voice.

Your stomach does a weird little flip, and you quickly look away, your cheeks heating. “You’re such a sap.”

You Kind of like it, but…

“Only for you, babe.”

You groan, shoving him with your shoulder. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Why?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face you. “Does it make your heart race?”

“No,” you lie, glaring at him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

“Idiot.”

“Hot,” he counters, his grin widening.

You don’t dignify that with a response.

Eventually, the tension breaks when the doorknob jiggles, and a muffled voice calls from the other side.

“Are you guys okay in there?”

You spring off the bed like it’s on fire. “Yes! Get us out!”

Jungkook stays lying down, his arms tucked behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. “Take your time!” he calls out.

You glare at him, your heart pounding for reasons you’d rather not analyze. “Get up, Jeon.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Get. Up.”

He sighs, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You grab the nearest pillow and whack him one last time, just for good measure.

[poorxsouls]

“My perfect Marionette~.”

Shadow Milk Cookie HCs

‧₊˚ 🩻 ✮⋆˙ ₊˚🎧⊹⋆｡𖦹 °

“Oh, mister wolf, you want me to stay? But I fear we’ll regret it one day.”

TW: slight spoilers(mainly tame), possible yandereisk themes, SM being a morally evil cookie (who all we love), mention of violence/death, slightly suggestive ( aka biting and stuff, but nothing NSFW), this is mainly fluffy, etc..

CW: Shadow Milk Cookie, other CRK characters ( such as Pure Vanilla cookie, the other beast, etc.. ).

Based on @dedfly ‘s CK/SM x anon art, maybe check them out since they’re honestly awesome and deeply underrated! These HCs are mainly romantic, but can be platonic dating depending on your preferences. BTW, the reader will have they/them pronouns for gender neutral reasons.

‧₊˚ 🩻 ✮⋆˙ ₊˚🎧⊹⋆｡𖦹 °

—⟡—

-Let’s get it out of the way—yes, he’s the jealous type. Whenever he sees you around the other cookies (expect for the beast cookies, he’s cool with the gang), he automatically pouts before shooting a glare at whoever dares to even breathe your air. Of course, you always calm him down with butterfly kisses.

-As evil as your man is, only you can insult him. So whenever a cookie tries to say something, you often end up beating that said cookie while Shadow Milk Cookie places his hands on his cheeks with a playful smile. It’s like he gets a power trip off seeing you defend him, he either becomes a playful ass: “Baaaabe, staaaawp, you know I’m shy!!” or be your personal cheerleader, doing whole choreographed works while you beat someone up.

-Often, he dresses himself up all pretty whenever you two go outside for a date as to show off to other cookies. Mainly wearing jester related clothing, but making sure to stand out. If you praise him, he always lets out a smug scoff saying that obviously he’s the handsomest cookie to live!… only to ask you to repeat the praise again, basically fishing for compliments.

-Yes, he has fangs which he proceeds to nibble on your fingers. Like a cat, biting is a love language he enjoys, but unlike Burning Spice Cookie, he isn’t going to bite your face off, so it’s only mildly annoying to you. Most of the time, you find the jester only leaving soft and light marks on your fingers and at worst, he takes a playful nibble of noise. Again, he is nothing compared to Burning Spice Cookie.

-When he confessed to you, he did it through a puppet play and you cannot believe how long it was. He plan out the whole puppet wedding, domestic life, how we could kill million of cookies as a present for you.. you know, the usual! Anyways, he was over the moon when you accepted and return his feelings.

-He has odd gifts, alright? Look, he’s tried getting tips from Eternal Sugar Cookie herself, but the gifts are not the best. Most of the time, you end up getting gifts such as a bouquet of cookie’s (still beating) hearts, designing fancy outfits for you, and so on, so on.. either way, Pure Vanilla has to force him to get you normal gifts even if the Beast whines.

-Long story short, he’s a ♾️/10 and you cannot convince me otherwise. Of course, he’s not the best, but he’s trying his best! Basically, you two are cutie pies who love each other.

—⟡—

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

જ⁀➴ Me and Mr Wolf - The Real Tuesday Weld

0:32 ━❍──────── 4:33

𐙚 “The old and upright, what do they know?

I'm all appetite, you'll help me grow!”

𐙚 “Oh my love, I want you too

But, my desire may prove your doom.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

“His evil eyes and jolly smile captivate me”(✿╹◡╹)!

[woniedarlin]

can you, perhaps, do an idol! jungwon x reader fanfic? the setting would be reader accidentally texting jungwon and the reader is an engene as well, actually, but then reader and won keep talking but he doesn't reveal he is an idol until later!! reader could be in the industry as like a staff or smth!

Sent, Delivered, Loved

pairing: idol! Jungwon x staff! reader

synopsis: As a hardworking staff member at HYBE, the last thing you expected was to accidentally text the wrong number in the middle of a busy day. But instead of a confused reply, the person on the other end kept the conversation going. He was funny, easy to talk to, and somehow, you found yourself looking forward to his messages. You didn’t know his name, his face, or even his voice but you liked him. Which was ridiculous, right?

Oh, and the person you were texting? Yeah. It was Jungwon. THE Jungwon from enhypen.

author's note: Thank you for the amazing request, Anonie! I must say, it took me a whole month to finish this, but it was definitely worth it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading, everyone! 💖

warning: This is just for the plot and should never be taken seriously. Do NOT text random strangers 😭 and don’t ever fall for someone just through texting. Mentions of cursing and also slight angst.

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy

You: bro wtf where r u???

You angrily jabbed at your screen. It was late, you were exhausted, and your friend, your so-called reliable colleague, was missing in action when you needed them most.

You: i swear to god if u left me to deal with this alone i’m blocking u forever.

A few seconds passed, and then-

Unknown Number: uh… hi??

You frowned. That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.

You: ???

You: don’t play dumb. u know what u did.

Unknown Number: i actually don’t. i think u have the wrong number??

Your eyes widened.

Oh.

OH.

You immediately scrolled up, checking the number you had just texted, only to realize that you had completely messed up one digit in your rush.

You: …omg wait. ur not Jiho?

Unknown Number: pretty sure i’m not.

You: oh my god kill me now. i’m so sorry.

Unknown Number: lmao it’s cool. what did this guy do to deserve ur wrath tho??

You sighed and debated whether or not to answer. But at this point, you’d already embarrassed yourself. Might as well go all in.

You: he bailed on me. we were supposed to finish this event setup for work but guess who’s suddenly “busy” 🙄

Unknown Number: damn. fake friend behavior.

You: RIGHT?? like i love him but i will fight him.

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then, it appeared again.

Unknown Number: sounds like a rough job. must be intense working in the industry.

You blinked at your screen. That was… a little specific.

You: wait, how’d u know it’s the industry??

Unknown Number: u mentioned an event setup. unless ur hosting birthday parties on a tuesday night, i figured.

You: touché.

Unknown Number: so what do u do?

You hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t like this was confidential information, but still…should you be talking about work with a total stranger? Then again, you had already gone on a rant about your missing-in-action coworker, so what harm would a little more do?

You: just staff stuff. event coordination, assisting with schedules, making sure idols don’t get lost on the way to their own stages. u know. the usual.

Unknown Number: sounds like a nightmare.

You: it is <3

You chuckled, shaking your head at how easy it was to talk to this person.

Unknown Number: u must meet a lot of idols then.

You sighed.

You: yeah but it’s not as exciting as u think. they’re just people. some r nice, some r annoying, some act like they don’t know what a clock is.

Unknown Number: LOL. any favorites?

You raised an eyebrow at that.

You: what, r u an idol fan?

Unknown Number: maybe.

You: ok mysterious.

Unknown Number: u didn’t answer tho.

You hummed and think.

You: idk. if i had to pick… maybe enhypen? they’re cool.

A beat of silence. Then,

Unknown Number: good taste.

Weird. Before you could think too much about it, another message popped up.

Unknown Number: anyway, u still mad at ur friend or did u forgive him?

You rolled your eyes.

You: still mad. he better buy me food.

Unknown Number: solid plan. u deserve compensation.

You: exactly!! u get it.

And just like that, the conversation flowed on, stretching far past the frustration that started it. You didn’t know who this person was, but they were easy to talk to, and for some reason, you didn’t mind keeping the conversation going.

🫐

Over the next few weeks, your accidental text became a daily habit. You didn’t know why, but talking to this stranger was easy. Maybe it was because he had no expectations of you. He wasn’t a coworker, a superior, or an idol to impress. He was just some guy who sent back sarcastic texts and asked surprisingly thoughtful questions.

And for Jungwon, it was the opposite.

For the first time in a long while, he got to be a normal person. Not Jungwon, leader of Enhypen. Just some random guy in your messages. He didn’t have to worry about his image or if he was saying the right thing. You didn’t treat him differently. You teased him, called him bro, and sent blurry dinner photos.

And he liked it.

Maybe he never corrected you when you called him a nobody. Perhaps he looked forward to your messages more than he should.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you the truth.

🫐

You groaned as you dropped onto a chair in the break room. You are completely drained, and the past few hours have been horrible. Running back and forth between different rooms, handling last-minute requests, and nearly getting run over by a staff member pushing a cart too fast. At this point, your legs were made of jelly, your back ached, and your only source of comfort was-

You: listen here, u lil gremlin. i am suffering.

Unknown Number: ???

Unknown Number: what did i do this time 😭

You: EXIST. why am i here working my ass off while u get to sit there and breathe??

Unknown Number: maybe bc u have a job and i’m just a mysterious, incredibly cool stranger on the internet

You: mysterious, incredibly cool GREMLIN.

You: actually no. goblin. u give goblin energy.

Jungwon almost choked on his water. Goblin??

Unknown Number: EXCUSE ME.

Unknown Number: what part of me gives goblin energy???

You: idk. just a vibe. like a smug little goblin who laughs at my suffering.

Jungwon did, in fact, laugh at that. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

Unknown Number: ok but real talk. what’s making u suffer this time

You: running around hybe like a headless chicken. setting up for another event. also why do idols need so many rooms. just share a table or smth smh.

Jungwon raised a brow.

Hybe.

So, you worked at Hybe. That confirmed it. You were in the same building as him, probably passing by his team without even realizing it.

Unknown Number: sounds rough. u need a raise tbh.

You: RIGHT?? finally someone with common sense.

Unknown Number: goblin says u should go get a snack or smth before u pass out.

You sighed before standing up and walking toward the nearest vending machine.

You: fine. but only bc goblin said so.

Jungwon grinned. He could get used to this nickname.

🫐

You still didn’t know his real name, and he still hadn’t told you what he did for a living. But weirdly enough, you didn’t mind.

One evening, after another long day of work, you flopped onto your bed and grabbed your phone.

You: goblin. tell me something random about u.

Unknown Number: hmm. i like cats.

You: ok well that’s basic. try again.

Unknown Number: wow ok. rude.

Unknown Number: fine. i used to do taekwondo when i was younger.

You: woah. that’s kinda cool. do u still remember any moves?

Unknown Number: maybe. depends. why? u planning to fight me?

You: depends. are u annoying today?

Unknown Number: always.

You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself.

Unknown Number: ok my turn. tell me something random about u.

You: hmm. i can survive on just ramen and coffee for a whole week.

Unknown Number: that is not something to brag about.

You: shh. survival skills.

Unknown Number: more like self-destruction skills.

You laughed.

It was weird how easy it was to talk to him. Even without knowing what he looked like or what he did, you felt like you could tell him anything.

And somehow, you got the feeling that he felt the same way.

As you continued texting, an idea popped into your head.

You: btw. i’m giving u a nickname.

Unknown Number: oh? should i be concerned?

You: yes. but it’s happening anyway.

You changed his contact name and took a screenshot.

You: congrats. ur now “goblin” in my phone. [image attached]

Goblin: goblin again???? why.

You: idk u give me goblin vibes.

Goblin: i don’t know if i should be honored or offended.

You: both.

Goblin: …fair.

You grinned to yourself. Yeah, “Goblin” suited him just fine.

🫐

It was ridiculous.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. This was getting out of control and liking someone you’d never seen. Someone you only knew through texts and calls? It was wild. But talking to Goblin had somehow become the best part of your day.

It wasn’t just his humor or the way he matched your sarcasm. It was the way he listened. The way he remembered small details. He never made you feel like you were talking too much, even when you went on long-winded rants about work.

And that was the problem.

Because now, you were catching feelings for someone who was like a ghost. What the fuck?

You sighed and stared at your phone.

You: goblin. tell me something.

Goblin: what kind of something?

You: something about you. anything.

Goblin: hmm. okay. i like late-night drives.

You: oh? fancy. what else?

Goblin: i sing a lot, but only when i’m alone.

You smiled.

You: what if ur actually really good but no one knows?

Goblin: oh, people know.

You paused, eyebrows furrowing.

You: ?? do u perform or smth?

There was a long pause.

Goblin: nah… let’s say i’ve had some practice.

You stared at the screen. You felt an odd feeling. But before you could ask more, he changed the subject.

And this was the pattern.

You’d ask about him, he’d give vague answers. It wasn’t like he was lying. He wasn’t telling you everything.

Meanwhile, Jungwon was losing his mind.

He liked you. Way more than he should.

He knew he should tell you the truth…that he wasn’t just some random guy but an idol, an Enhypen member, someone you admired without realizing he was the same person you texted every day.

But how was he supposed to do that without making you feel betrayed?

It didn’t help that you unknowingly talked about him all the time.

You: work was chaos today. my team had to set up for an engene event, and guess what? i had to carry a life-sized jungwon cutout.

Goblin: oh? lucky u. he’s pretty cool.

You: pls. i had to carry his smug face up three flights of stairs. not fun.

Goblin: bet he was judging u the whole way.

You: EXACTLY. i could hear him in my head like “hurry up, bitch.”

Jungwon nearly choked on his drink.

You: i mean, i love him, but he def gives rich, spoiled cat vibes.

Goblin: wow. tell me how u really feel.

You: LMAO SORRY. no but fr, i respect him a lot. he works so hard.

Goblin: yeah… he really does.

Jungwon smiled to himself.

But the longer he kept the truth from you, the worse it felt.

One day, he was going to have to tell you.

He just didn’t know how.

🫐

You had one job. Just one.

Don’t freak out. Don’t stare. Be professional.

Yet, here you were, standing in the same hallway as enhypen. Your heart was racing.

You hadn’t even meant to run into them. You were trying to deliver some documents to another department when you turned a corner, and bam! almost crashed straight into Jungwon himself.

“Ah, sorry!” You quickly stepped back and bowed.

“It’s okay,” he replied casually.

You kept your head down, gripping the files in your hands. You knew the rules. Staff weren’t supposed to interact too much with idols unless necessary. So, you did what you always did. You kept moving, not making eye contact.

But the moment you were out of sight, you whipped out your phone.

You: BRO WTF I JUST BUMPED INTO ENHYPEN HELP

Goblin: oh? ur alive?

You: BARELY. I almost DIED. I ran straight into Jungwon.

Goblin: sounds like a skill issue tbh.

You: SHUT UP. Anyway, I had to act normal and not fangirl. Pain.

Goblin: so u saw Jungwon up close, huh? thoughts?

You: he’s… really handsome actually like stupidly handsome.

Jungwon, reading the text, blinked.

Wait.

Something clicked in his head.

You just said you bumped into Enhypen.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought back to earlier.

A staff member had walked past them, avoiding eye contact. He hadn’t paid much attention, but now that he thought about it…

That had been you.

Jungwon’s breath hitched.

Holy shit.

You were the staff member he had occasionally seen around the company. He’d thought you were pretty before, but it never crossed his mind that you were you.

Now, everything made sense. The things you ranted about, your schedule, and the way you always seemed to know too much about his events.

He grinned to himself.

Goblin: so… if u had to rank the members by looks, where would jungwon be?

You: pls don’t expose me but top 1 actually. his visuals are insane irl.

Jungwon nearly dropped his phone.

🫐

Ever since Jungwon pieced together your identity, he couldn’t help but pay more attention whenever he saw you at the company.

It wasn’t full-on stalking. No, he wasn’t that creepy. But he started noticing little things.

Like how you always ran around, papers in hand, sometimes looking stressed and sometimes smiling at your coworkers. How you always carried an energy drink in the morning, eyes barely open as you dragged yourself through the halls. How you always pulled out your phone at random moments to text him.

And, most of all, how you never once looked at him.

Jungwon found it amusing. You had no idea that the same person you were texting as “Goblin” was now actively looking for you in a crowd.

He casually walked by your usual routes, trying to confirm his suspicions. If you were near, he’d glance discreetly, watching your reactions. You were always professional, always busy, always avoiding unnecessary attention.

But then, one day, he decided to test his theory.

Exhausted, you were standing near the entrance, rubbing your temples as another staff member spoke to you. You were frustrated, probably from another long day of work.

Jungwon, a few steps away, discreetly pulled out his phone and typed.

Goblin: u alive?

A second later, your phone vibrated in your pocket.

Jungwon didn’t even need to guess. The way your entire demeanor changed was all the confirmation he needed. Your tired frown softened. Your lips curled into a small smile.

Bingo.

Now he knew it was 100% you.

Later that night, he picked up his phone again.

Goblin: so, when’s ur funeral?

You: idk but work is definitely killing me first.

Goblin: want me to fight ur boss?

You: pls. throw hands.

Jungwon chuckled to himself. Oh, if only you knew.

🫐

It was late. You sat on your bed, staring at your phone screen. Without thinking too much about it, you opened your messages.

You: Goblin, you up?

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Goblin: For you? Always. What’s up?

You hesitated. You weren’t usually the type to unload your emotions onto others, but something about him…about this…felt safe.

You: I’m just tired. Really tired.

You: Sometimes I feel like no matter how hard I work, no one actually sees it.

You: Like, I put in all this effort, and it’s just… expected. Nothing special. And if I mess up even a little, suddenly it’s a big deal.

You stared at your screen, debating if you should delete the message, but a reply came in before you could.

Goblin: I know exactly how that feels.

That made you pause.

You: You do?

Goblin: Yeah.

Goblin: It’s like… the pressure never stops. People only see the results, not the work behind it. And when you succeed, it’s just “as expected.” But when you fail? That’s when they notice.

That was oddly specific.

You: Exactly. Like, can someone just acknowledge how exhausting it is??

Goblin: You deserve that acknowledgment. Even if no one else says it, I will: You’re doing amazing. And I mean that.

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the frustration.

You: Thanks, Goblin. That means a lot.

Goblin: Anytime.

A comfortable silence settled between you two. Then,

Goblin: Can I tell you something too?

You sat up a little straighter.

You: Of course.

A few seconds passed before he responded.

Goblin: Sometimes I feel like people don’t actually know me. They see what they want to see. They have all these expectations, and I try to meet them, but at the end of the day… I wonder if anyone would still like me if I wasn’t what they expected.

You stared at the message, something about it making your heart ache a little.

You: That sounds lonely.

Goblin: It is. But I guess I’ve gotten used to it.

Your fingers hovered over the screen keyboard before you started typing.

You: Well, I don’t know about them, but I like you. Just as you are. Even if you’re secretly a weirdo who texts strangers in the middle of the night.

There was a pause, then-

Goblin: Wow. I was about to be all deep and emotional, and you just had to call me a weirdo.

You laughed softly.

You: I’m just saying, you’re pretty cool. Whoever you are.

You didn’t realize it, but on the other side of the screen, Jungwon stared at your message for a long time. He felt something that was terrifying.

Because for the first time in a long while, he felt seen. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

🫐

It’s late at night again, and you’re sitting at home, exhausted after another grueling day at work. Your feet ache, and your body feels heavy, but despite your exhaustion, you’re still awake because of him.

Your phone is open to your messages with Goblin, and you hesitate before typing.

You: be honest. do you ever think about what it’d be like if we met irl?

Jungwon, who was lying in bed, staring at his screen, felt his stomach drop.

Oh no.

Jungwon’s fingers hovered over his screen. His heart pounded as he read your message over and over again. Of course, he had thought about it every single day since realizing who you were. But if you knew who he really was… would you still want to meet?

After a long pause, he finally replied.

Goblin: hmm, maybe… but what if we meet and you’re disappointed?

He winced after sending it. That was a cowardly response, dodging the real issue.

Your reply came almost instantly.

You: lmao please. i bet ur like a middle-aged man with a receding hairline

You: but honestly. i do wonder. it’s weird, right? liking someone u never met??

Jungwon’s stomach flipped. Liking?

Before he could stop himself, his lips curled into a small smile. Did you really mean that? Or was it just a casual way of speaking? He needed to be careful.

Goblin: do u? like me, i mean

The second he sent it, he regretted it. It felt too direct. What if you got weirded out? He considered sending a follow-up message to downplay it, but before he could, his phone vibrated.

You: idk. maybe?

Jungwon stared at the screen, his ears burning. You liked him? But you didn’t even know who he was.

And that was the problem.

He couldn’t keep lying to you.

Taking a deep breath, Jungwon sat up in bed. His fingers moved over his keyboard, hesitating for a long moment before he typed-

Goblin: Hey, can I call you?

🫐

Your phone buzzed in your hand. An incoming call. From Goblin.

Your stomach flipped. He had never called before. Hesitating for a second, you stared at the screen before finally answering.

“Hello?”

There was a pause, then-

“Hey.”

Your breath hitched. His voice was… smooth. Gentle. Familiar in a way. You sat up straighter.

“Wow. So you do have a voice,” you teased trying to mask your nervousness.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah… I figured it was time.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, this time more serious.

“I have to tell you something.”

Your heart pounded. “What is it?”

Jungwon took a deep breath on the other end. His hands clenched into fists, but this was it. No more hiding.

“I know who you are.”

Your brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“we’ve met before. A lot of times.”

“Wait—what are you saying?”

Jungwon hesitated. “I’m not just some random guy.”

“I’m Jungwon.”

Silence.

Your mind raced. Jungwon? Only one Jungwon immediately came to mind, but that was impossible.

“Jungwon…?” Your voice came out weaker than you wanted.

“Yeah.” Another pause. “Yang Jungwon.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

No.

No way.

The leader of Enhypen. The same Jungwon you had bumped into at the company a few times. The same Jungwon whose songs you had on your playlist.

The same Jungwon you had been texting for months.

You felt your whole world tilt.

“You’re kidding.” You whispered.

“I’m not.” His voice was cautious. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was scared. I liked talking to you like this. Just as… me.”

Your grip on the phone tightened. You were shocked, confused, and something dangerously close to betrayal.

You had confided in him and talked about your job, talked about him, without knowing it was actually him.

Your mind was spinning.

“I—” You swallowed hard. “I need a minute.”

Jungwon’s heart sank. He could hear the sadness in your voice.

“I get it.” His voice was soft. “Take your time.”

But as the call ended, a heavy silence settled between you.

And Jungwon could only hope he hadn’t just lost you forever.

🫐

You had deleted his contact the second you found out the truth. It was impulsive, but even now, you felt guilty.

You never gave him a chance to explain.

Not that you owed him one. He had lied to you for months. He let you vent about work, about idols, about him. All while hiding that he was the person you were unknowingly talking about. Still, a small part of you wondered what he would have said if you had stayed long enough to hear him out. But it was too late now. You had cut him off, and life had to move on.

So you threw yourself into work, acting like nothing happened. But something felt… different.

For one, your workload, usually overwhelming, had mysteriously lightened. Tasks you had been dreading were suddenly reassigned. Even the small mistakes you made generally earned you a scolding and seemed to go unnoticed.

At first, you thought it was just luck. But then, little things started to stand out.

One evening, after a long day, you dragged yourself into a break room, exhausted. You had been assigned to help with an event that had left you completely drained. As you slumped into a chair, your coworker sighed beside you.

“Lucky you,” she muttered and stretched her arms. “I heard you were supposed to be on cleanup duty tonight, but someone switched it at the last minute.”

You blinked. “Wait… what?”

Your coworker shrugged. “Dunno. Some higher-up pulled some strings, I guess. Maybe you’ve got a guardian angel or something.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. A guardian angel? Yeah, right.

Meanwhile, Jungwon watched from the shadows, unseen. He knew he had no right to interfere. Not after what he had done, but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

So he helped in the only way he could.

He stayed silent and watched from a distance. Making sure you were okay. Doing whatever he could to ease your burden, even if you never found out.

Because if he couldn’t have you back in his life… this was the least he could do.

🫐

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand just as you were about to go to bed.

You groaned, rolling over to grab it, eyes squinting at the screen. Unknown Number.

For a second, you debated letting it ring, but curiosity got the better of you. With a sigh, you swiped to accept the call and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

Silence.

You frowned. “Uh… hello?”

Finally, a voice. “Hey… it’s me.”

You pulled the phone away, staring at the number. It was definitely not saved in your contacts.

“…Sorry, who is this?” you asked cautiously.

A pause. Then, a chuckle. “Did you delete my number that fast?”

Your stomach dropped.

That laugh. That tone.

It hit you all at once.

Your fingers clenched around the phone. “Jungwon.”

Another silence. Then, softly-“Yeah.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you couldn’t breathe.

Your brain scrambled to find something to say, but you could only stare blankly at your ceiling.

“I—What do you want?” Your voice came out smaller than you intended.

Jungwon exhaled as if he had been holding his breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“You shouldn’t have called,” you muttered. “You shouldn’t—”

“I know,” he cut in. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I couldn’t help it.”

You shut your eyes. “Jungwon, I—”

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he rushed out. “I should’ve told you a lot of things.”

Your chest ached.

“I knew it was you,” he continued. “I figured it out early. But I didn’t say anything because I was selfish. I didn’t want you to treat me differently. I didn’t want to lose what we had. I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” he said softer now. “Everything I said to you was real.”

You pressed your palm against your forehead. You were overwhelmed.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but…” Jungwon hesitated. “Can I see you?”

Your heart pounded.

Could you face him? After everything?

🫐

You didn’t know why you said yes.

Maybe it was curiosity. Perhaps because you missed the feeling of something that had once felt so real. Or perhaps you weren’t as ready to let him go as you told yourself. So now, here you were. Your jacket covered your pj’s underneath. The air was cold, but not nearly as cold as the tension between you and the boy standing a few feet away. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He was wearing a hoodie, hands tucked into the pockets, eyes looking from you to the ground because he didn’t know where to start.

Seeing him now, after everything, felt surreal.

You swallowed. “So… you changed your number just to call me?”

Jungwon let out a soft laugh. “Yeah.”

You shook your head. “That’s insane.”

“I know.” His lips quirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I tried to leave you alone. I did. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You clenched your jaw, “You lied to me.”

Jungwon’s expression fell. “I know.”

“You let me embarrass myself. You let me tell you things…things I wouldn’t have said if I knew who you were.” Your voice was with frustration and hurt. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”

“I do,” Jungwon said quietly. “And I hate myself for it.”

There was silence again. Then, Jungwon decided to take a slow step closer.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. “I swear. I liked talking to you. I liked that you didn’t see me as an idol. You treated me like a normal person. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like one.”

You exhaled sharply and looked away.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Jungwon continued. “But if any part of you still wants this, still wants me, then I’ll do anything to fix this.”

Your fingers tightened around the sleeves of your jacket.

Do you still want this?

Did you still want him?

You let out a bitter laugh while shaking your head. “You know what’s funny?”

Jungwon stayed quiet.

“I used to think it was ridiculous,” you admitted. “Liking someone you’ve never even met. Someone you only talked to through a screen.” You let out a breath. “But then… it happened.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything.

“I told myself it wasn’t real,” you continued. “That it was just the comfort of having someone to talk to. It was easy to fall for someone when all you had were words and late-night conversations.” You swallowed. “But it felt real. And when everything came crashing down, it hurt like it was real.”

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you admitted. “But I did.”

Jungwon’s breath hitched. “You…”

“I liked you,” you said firmly this time. “I liked Goblin. Not Jungwon, not an idol. Just you.”

His hands twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held himself back.

“I ruined it,” he murmured. “Didn’t I?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know.”

It was the truth.

Jungwon was bracing himself for the worst.

You sighed and looked down at your feet. “I forgive you.”

He sucked in a breath. “You do?”

You nodded, “But…”

The relief that had started to settle in his features quickly faded.

“I want to take it slow,” you said carefully. “I want to learn more about you. You, not just the person I texted late at night.” You exhaled. “And I don’t know what to do, Jungwon. Even just meeting you here feels like I’m walking on thin ice.”

Jungwon pressed his lips together. He understood.

“If anyone finds out…” you hesitated as you glanced around as if someone could be listening. “I could lose my job. You could ruin everything you’ve worked for.”

“I know,” he murmured.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, “Then why are you even here?”

“Because you’re worth the risk.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he said. “But I also don’t want to rush you. If you want to take it slow, we will.” He smiled. “I can wait. I mean, we already spent months texting. I think I can handle a little more patience.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Then let’s take it slow

🫐

Months Later

You were swamped with work, running from one task to another, barely catching a break. The office was hectic as usual, with staff members moving in and out, handling schedules, coordinating events, and making sure everything for the idols ran smoothly. You had settled into a routine again, though now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at your phone, wondering if he would first text.

Your relationship with Jungwon had been… complicated. Ever since that night, you had both taken slow but careful texts, occasional calls, and a few fleeting encounters in the company's hallways. He was still an idol, and you were still a staff member. Even though no one knew about the two of you, there was always a risk.

As you finished organizing some paperwork, your phone vibrated in your pocket.

Goblin: Come outside.

Your brows furrowed.

You: I’m working??

Goblin: Just for a second.

You sighed. But curiosity got the best of you, and you slipped out of the office, making your way toward the quieter side of the building. As soon as you stepped outside, you spotted him. Jungwon, standing near one of the company vans, dressed in casual clothes, a cap pulled low over his face. Even with his attempt to stay hidden, you could still recognize him.`

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Jungwon smiled, “I wanted to see you.”

You rolled your eyes. “We texted last night.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same,” he replied smoothly. “And I figured you could use a little break.”

You sighed. “Jungwon—”

Before you could argue, he held up a small bag. “I got you coffee.”

You blinked. “What?”

“And a snack.” He grinned, holding it out to you. “Figured you’d be too busy to get one yourself.”

You took the coffee from his hands, fingers brushing his for a fleeting second. “…Thanks, Goblin.”

Jungwon smirked. “You really won’t change that nickname, huh?”

“Nope,” you said and took a sip.

He huffed out a laugh.

You gave him a look. “What? You don’t like it?”

Jungwon stepped closer. “I don’t hate it,” he admitted before he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your mouth.

You barely had time to process it before he pulled away, grinning. “But I’d rather you call me something else.”

Your brain is short-circuited. “Like what?”

He shrugged, walking away with a smug face. “I don’t know. Maybe boyfriend?”

Your face burned as you gaped at him. “Jungwon!”

He only laughed, waving over his shoulder. “See you later, pretty.”

And just like that, he left you standing there, speechless.

You stared after him, then scoffed to yourself with a small smile.

“Guess ‘Goblin’ wasn’t so bad after all.”

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake Accidentally Takes Over the World (and Didn’t Think to Mention It)

So, Janet somehow spent decades climbing her way into every government worth a damn, ruling the entire world from behind the scenes. And then, because the universe is apparently wild, she left it all to Tim.

Cut to Tim Drake, the brand-new, completely reluctant secret ruler of the entire planet. And he just… never really thought it was worth mentioning?

The Batfam finds out when Bruce stumbles across an encrypted memo traced to a mysterious Gotham office with Tim’s name on it.

Bruce, holding up the memo: “Tim. Want to explain why this document about, oh, international finance reforms is signed with your encryption key?”

Tim, not even looking up from his laptop: “Oh, yeah. That. Janet left me her ‘global influence portfolio’ or whatever. Mostly paperwork.”

The Batfam stares in total shock.

Dick sputters nearly dropping his coffee: "Wait—you’ve been managing world policies?!”

Tim, shrugging, barely paying attention as he emails the president of Germany: “Well, yeah. I figured someone had to keep things running. It's not that big a deal. I mostly just redirect some policies. You know, keep things running smoothly.”

Jason, absolutely cackling: “Are you telling me that little Replacement here is the reason for half the ‘global cooperation’ headlines?”

Tim, scrolling through emails: “They send me reports; I send suggestions. And honestly, they make it way more dramatic than it is. It's not that hard."

Barbara stares at him, half horrified, half impressed. “How did we not notice this?”

Tim blinks. “I mean, it’s not like I was actively hiding it. I assumed you guys knew I was… kind of managing these things?”

Cue utter disbelief.

Stephanie, laughing too hard to breathe: “Tim, do you have world leaders on speed dial?”

Tim, completely unfazed: “Only the important ones. They text, mostly. Oh—by the way, I might’ve influenced a minor arms control thing last week. Don’t worry; it’s all sorted.”

Bruce, looking like he’s two seconds from fainting: “Sorted? Tim, we're talking about you having global authority here. People notice these things."

Tim shrugs again as his phone buzzes with notifications. “Sure, but it’s not like they’re going to do anything too crazy. I just suggest stuff, and they listen. Honestly, it’s like herding really powerful, really overdramatic cats.”

Damian, scandalized: “You mean to tell me, Drake, that you’re manipulating world politics like it’s a game of checkers?”

Tim, still casual: “Manipulating’s a strong word. Like I said, it’s more just nudging things along.” His phone buzzes again. “Oh, hang on. France is panicking about their energy policy again.”

The Batfam tries to process the fact that Tim—Tim, who routinely forgets what day it is—is now, somehow, running the world.

And then his phone buzzes with a message from the UN Security Council.

Tim sighs, glancing down. “Oh, great. Looks like they’re debating nuclear arms again. Be right back.”

Meanwhile, the Batfam is left absolutely speechless, processing the fact that their Tim—scrawny, coffee-fueled Tim—is apparently one of the most powerful people on the planet. And to him its just another tuesday.

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they had a crush on the Reader/Yuu?

All are meant to be interpreted as romantic except for Ortho, who is a wingman for his brother in his part. Some characters might be a bit OOC. Reader is GN but will be referred to as pretty/beautiful. Minor TW for Rollo having yandere tendencies.

If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave an ask or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants :) Everything is under the cut

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts - 

Not the best person to have liking you. 

He’s not mean or anything he just... Has no idea what to do with himself at any time. 

And it’s very obvious. 

He thinks that if he’s very, very specific about you following the rules, you’ll praise him and thus that’ll mean you’ll like him. 

He’s… Trying his best. 

“Off With Your Head!” You felt the metal clamp around your neck as you heard the echo of the words. Turning around, you saw the small redhead with his hands on his hips, face already flushing. He grabbed the drink you were holding, the surface of the coffee moving as he pulled away. “On a Tuesday, one can only drink lemon tea past 3:14 in the afternoon!” He huffed, before using his free hand to pull you away. “If you don’t know the rules, I’ll just have to teach them to you. Come on, there’s some tea in the garden. I have a book of rules I could read to you.” 

Trey Clover - 

He’s housewife material, he’ll bake for you 

“Any boy can be babygirl but it takes a man to be a single  mother” vibes 

I never know what to say to him he’s just a normal person who likes cooking 

On a complete side note if you ever go to NYC, go to Alice’s Tea Cup. It’s this tea house that’s kind of close to Broadway, at least last time I went pre-COVID, and it’s so good. I have the recipe book from there and the pumpkin scones are the best. 

You walked into the Hearslabyul kitchen, smiling at the smell of apple pie. Trey was baking, and the dish had just come out of the oven. He smiled, but then slapped your hand away when you tried to grab it. “Not yet, it needs to cool first. If you really want something to eat, we have leftover blueberry scones in the fridge.” He said, looking away to get the serving plate. You touched it anyway, pulling back as you burned yourself. He looked at you and sighed, taking you by the arm to get an ice cube on it. “Burnt hand teaches best, I suppose... It shouldn’t be that bad of a burn. If it gets any worse, I’ll  put some cream on it...” He said, before kissing the burn. “And a get-well-soon kiss, of course.” 

Cater Diamond - 

He’s a silly boy, but also an angsty one 

If he genuinely likes you, he’d probably try really, really hard to be the “perfect guy” 

And also to try to hide how into you he is because he’s scared you’ll leave him 

Those moments when his guard drops are probably the sweetest, though 

“Ah, that was fun! Well, Cay-cay’s all yours for the rest of the day. What do you wanna do now?” Cater said, having just turned off his livestream. You were behind his phone smiling at him. You were going to recommend getting a drink at the Monstro lounge, but saw how tired he was. He smiled at you when you asked to just hang out with him at home. “You do, huh? Well, there’s a new movie we could watch.” When you raised an eyebrow, asking if it was for Magicam, he just chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. A remake of an old classic. I want to watch it with you. I’m sure that you’d be able to make anything good, just by being there.” 

Ace Trapolla & Deuce Spade- 

They’re together because I feel like you can’t make one fall for you without the other. It’s a ‘buy one get one free’ deal. 

Ace would be a nightmare to have in love with you. 

He’d try his best to flirt, but mainly through really bad dirty jokes and pickup lines. 

Or, by inserting himself into your life as much as possible in an attempt to force himself into a place of importance for you 

Duece, on the other hand, would be an angel. 

He attempts to be an old-fashioned gentleman, like holding open doors and getting you flowers. 

Are those roses from Heartslabyul’s garden? Maybe. Just don’t snitch on him to Riddle. 

You weren't entirely sure how you got yourself into hiding in a cabinet with Ace and Duece, but here you were, avoiding the Riddle currently screaming his head off about how someone had stolen the roses currently in your arms. You had a hand over Duece’s mouth as he muttered apologies, trying to get him to shut up, before Ace leaned in and whispered “Hey, Prefect?” You gave him a look, to which he said, “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see!” He asked, voice rising in volume as he tried not to laugh, to which Duece slapped him on the arm and cried, “Don’t be so loud! You’re going to get us caught!” Ace only laughed harder, until the door to the cabinet opened. You took a dash out of there with your roses, the two bumbling baffoons behind you, the yelling housewarden already collaring them. 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

He’s a fun man 

Well, not really, but his attempts are very fun for Ruggie. 

He’ll just drag you away and force you to cuddle with him. 

You’ll probably end up cutting class, but do you really care when it’s with the clingy lion man? 

Throwing money at you with no regard to the amount he gives or the reason he does it is the other attempt. 

If he can prove that he’s better at taking care of you than the lizard, he can win this round. 

And get a better lover than his brother, but that’s the secondary goal. 

You were just walking in the garden when you felt someone trip you, causing you to land half in a bush. Before you could turn around to tell off the person responsible, they grabbed your waist and pulled you to them on the floor. “It’s nap time, Herbivore. Shut up and let me sleep.” When you told him that he was the one who invited you here and you’d have to skip your next class to stay, he just huffed and rolled his eyes at you, pushing a pouch in your hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. If you’ll be like that, take this and you can get whatever you want in your lunch period. Fair deal if you’ll stay.” 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Would never ask you out on a date, he’s scared. 

The best treatment that you get before he’s sure you’re not going to be mean to him is that he doesn’t pawn your gifts off for cash. 

Afterward, he’ll be a bit more affectionate 

Maybe even give you some of his food... 

Also, hyena courting stuff; Shadowing a potential partner, taking a step forward and then taking a step back, and other stuff like that. 

You heard the laughing of the beastman before you were able to see his face. He had been following you around for most of the day, but every time he’d take a few steps forward, he’d taken a few back after a second. Now, though, he had his head on your shoulder. “Hello, Prefect. Look what I got!” He said, showing you a donut he had probably gotten from Sam’s. “You want a bite?” He asked, when you nodded and took a bite he bit onto the other end, giggling away. “What, was that really enough to fluster you, Prefect? Shishishi, I should try doing this to you again.”

Jack Howl - 

Jack asks you outright if you feel the same way he does, especially if you two are friends. 

Finally! A confession! 

He doesn’t want to make your friendship weird, so he wants to tell you that it’s happened and either find a way to get over you or have a happy relationship. 

Very much “Worst they can say is no, best they can say is yes” kind of man 

Aside from that, very loyal and sweet to you before he realizes that he likes you 

Also, a pinch of an old-fashioned gentleman in him 

Jack had called you out earlier that day to go on an evening walk with him, and so here you were. You were in the mountains, walking at a fairly slow pace. You neared a big tree as the sun set, and Jack took a deep breath. He took your hand, ears on high alert and tail looking undecided between if it wanted to cower beneath his legs or wag excitedly, and said, “Prefect, I like you very much. Please go on a date with me.”

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

Oh no 

He has two moods when it comes to the person he likes; Annoyingly showoffish and annoyingly terrified of you. 

Somehow, it’s sometimes both. 

He would talk very loudly about how well he was doing as a businessman his contracts and how much money he’d made. 

And then you touch him and he just stops functioning.

“Oh, look, Jade! Another new high this month! We might even be able to expand!” He cried, glancing at you again and again. This had been happening every time you visited Monstro Lounge; A song and dance of Azul fishing for compliments that he seemed to hate, if him leaving the room every time you complimented him had anything to say about it. This time, you grabbed his wrist as you spoke, telling him how he was doing a very good job. You watched him turn a shade of red and blue, stiffening up as he muttered out a response. “Thank you... I will keep your response in mind.” The moment you let him go, Jade stepped in to talk to you as the octopus-mer ran away once more. 

Jade Leech - 

As the more put together of the two moray eels here, he gets the ‘classier’ side of the coin. 

Moray courting rituals of wrapping together is often described as a dance, so he’ll try to dance with you. 

Aside from that, I can see him subtly teasing you about yawning in front of him, even if you don’t understand why. 

And feeding you plenty of mushroom dishes. 

You were stuffed, that was for sure. Jade had invited you to Octavinelle a while ago, and now you were here, eating various mushroom dishes like your life depended on it. He was smiling, another one placed in front of you. “A shiitake and crab stir fry is next. Surely, you have room for more?” He asked, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled when you yawned, “Isn’t it a bit late in the season for that?” When you asked what he meant, he only shook his head and brought a filled fork to your lips. “Fufu. Just focus on eating for now, Prefect.” 

Floyd Leech - 

Hehe funny unhinged eel man  

Moray eels like to cuddle, so prepare to be squeezed by him 

Also, yawning or ‘gaping’ (Opening his mouth really wide) at you. 

Honestly, I don’t have a lot of thoughts on him, he’s just a silly little guy. 

“Shrimpy!” You heard cried behind you, Floyd flopping himself over you from behind. He yawned and pushed his head over your shoulder as he spread himself over you so his weight was all on you to hold up. “Whatcha doing?” He asked, smiling at you. Once you answered that you were on your way to class, he frowned, wrapping his arms around you before lifting you like a cat. “That’s boring! Common, Shrimpy, we’re going to find something fun to do!” 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

For Kalim, I feel as if the second he knows he likes you, you will know he likes you because he’ll tell you outright. 

Before he knows he likes you, everyone else will know he likes you. 

Running up to you at every opportunity, constantly complimenting you, talking about you to everyone who will listen, etc. 

Much like the other rich kids who aren’t used to being genuinely wanted for themselves and not their money in this school, Kalim will throw expensive gifts at you in an attempt to gain your favor. 

“Prefect!!” You heard someone shout, running at you from across the field of the flying lesson you were in. “There you are! I’ve got something for you!” He said, smiling all the while. He kissed you on the cheek, and then reached into his bag, pulling out a golden bracelet. Before you had time to refuse, because it was the middle of a class where it could easily be lost or because of the outrageous price tag, he spoke up. “And now we match! Just like twins, see?” He had kept his ones on this time, and you couldn’t help but smile as he was beaming up at you. 

Jamil Viper - 

Jamil might not be able to show off often, but he does try to do so for you. 

You’re busy and can’t cook? He’ll get you some food! 

You’ve torn a hole in your gym clothes? He’s got a sewing kit on him!

Your homework is about to kill your GPA because Crewel seems to hate having breaks? He’s your guy!

All in all, he attempts to woo you like a mixture of a 1950s housewife and the stereotype of tutor love interests in media. 

“-And that’s how to make a basic healing tonic. Any questions?” He asked. When you shook your head, he gave a small smile. “That’s good. I’ll help you clean up in here, and then I’ve got something for you back at Scarabia.” His hand brushed yours as he helped you clear up the papers that had been scattered around as you studied. “You mentioned wanting to try foods from the scalding sands, so I got a bunch of ingredients. I’ll make you a wonderful meal if you’d like.”

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

Much like Riddle, you must deal with him being much more annoying as soon as he likes you. 

Just this time, he’s annoying you about your self-care. 

You don’t take multi-hour spa baths in the crummy bath at Ramshackle? Well, now you do at the much better baths in Pomefiore every week. 

You don’t have a skincare routine that takes up half your morning? Yes, you do. 

You will never be in better condition physically but he will continue finding new ways to push you. 

He does it out of love because he wants you to always look and feel your best. 

You opened the door to Ramshackle, looking at a mildly annoyed Vil. He grabbed you before you could protest, leading you away from your dorm. “Come on, Potato. I’m taking you to Pomefiore, and you’re going to get a makeover.” When you asked why, the third year just rolled his eyes. “You have bags under your eyes, and they seem to be from lack of sleep or stress, if your appearance when you came here was anything to say about it. So, I’m getting you a spa day and will teach you how to take care of yourself better. If you still can’t, I’ll just have to take you for spa time more often.” 

Rook Hunt - 

Rook is a walking love letter. 

Constantly waxing poetics, and talking about how beautiful you are. 

You forget something at home and the next thing you know you’ve got an arrow shot next to you and whatever you need as well as a heartfelt note is in a pouch tied to it. 

And he’s just... There. 

All the time. 

He’s in your walls. 

You sighed, having forgotten your potions textbook for the third time this week. Truly, your memory was your own worst- What was that? A thud had come from right next to you; An arrow with a paper gift bag tied onto it through a deep purple ribbon had been shot into a tree, going right past your head. When you looked into it, there was your missing textbook, as well as a note from the giver. ‘Dearest Trickster, it is a wonder to be in your presence. I do ask, please grace me with those eyes to my face. If only I had those, I would be happy to deliver you your books for the rest of my life.’ When you looked around, you saw him; The third year excitedly waving at you from the rooftop of the school. 

Epel Felmeir - 

He tries so hard to show you how awesome cool and manly he is. 

Has the same vibes as a child showing their parents how good they are at sports. 

“Hey Mom, look!” *Kicks a soccer ball and falls flat on his face* 

He’s doing the best he can with the skills he has, give the little guy some credit 

“Hey, Prefect! Did ya see that goal I made at the end?” Epel said, having just finished a Spelldrive game. He had come up to you as soon as he was done, and you smiled at him, nodding and telling him that he had done well. He puffed his chest out at that, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Of course I did! I’ll even give ya a ride on my broom after our next practice, so you can see what it looks like when ya playing. That’s be fun, right?” He said, smiling at you widely. 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

Scared boy 

Very, very scared boy 

He will try to run from you any time he’s nearby.

If you manage to corner him, expect him to be very flustered. 

Maybe you’ll get a sentence or two out of him if you keep trying... 

Idia had been avoiding you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. So here you were, using the key card ortho gave you to work your way into the room of the hermit. He was hunched over his desk, eyes closed and breathing steady. His monitor was on, so when you walked over, you took the mouse out from him and went to save in his game before you closed it out. He stirred, muttering as he opened his eyes, “One more round, Orthohmysevenitsyouohimsorryicangonow!” He bolted straight up, hair flaming pink as he pushed the swirly chair back and ran out of his own room.

Ortho Shroud - 

His big brother’s best wingman 

Will come up to you and talk about how great his brother is 

If needed, pulls up diagrams and chats like he’s giving a PowerPoint presentation on his brother’s ability to date you 

“Prefect!” You heard a shout, the younger Shroud brother coming up to you. “I have something that you must see! You are aware of my brother’s affection for you, correct?” When you shook your head, he smiled, pulling up a presentation on his iPad. “That makes this much more difficult, but very well! As you can see here, one’s heartbeat increases when one meets with the object of one’s affections. This can be caused by a flight or fight response, which my brother does not usually suffer from when over a call with another. However, when your voice is there, his heart rate spikes dramatically! This means that I have reason to believe that he is in love with you. In this presentation, I will-”

Diasonia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

He is going to try to woo you with gems 

And probably other dragon-courting rituals 

I think that out of the beastmen and fae, he understands the least that you don’t get their courting rituals. 

By the name he realizes that you don’t think you’re dating he’s already picked out the names of your kids. 

“Child of Man?” You heard the familiar voice of Hornton call out to you in your garden. You smiled, turning around to face him. “It’s nice to see you again. I have a gift for you.” He said, holding out a golden necklace with emeralds sprinkled in. When you tried to refuse the gift, saying it was too expensive to get ‘just because’ he only shook his head and put it around your neck. “All the stars in the sky would be too little to give you, and every jewel in my horde pales in comparison to your beauty. If only you wear this, then you will surely compare to my father when you take your place at my side. Although, I believe you already do in both appearance and wit.”

Lilia Vanrouge - 

Old fae bat man 

He flirts with you, but it ends up being either too old-timey or too fae for you to understand 

For the old-timey side; According to Wikipedia, “Gifts accompanied courtship in the form of a man proving coins, trinkets or clothing to the woman he is trying to woo.” So, he gets you various gifts, like coins, jewelry that he has, and whatever else you’re interested in. 

I assume that because he’s such a long-lived fae, they range from ‘I found this stone in the garden’ to ‘Here’s a 1000-year-old artifact capable of destroying the world if you hold onto it wrong’

For the fae side; Male bats court by making various noises (screaming, honking, singing), flicking their wings/showing off how good they are at flying, and grooming the other party. I’m interpreting this as singing to you, playing with your hair, and trying to impress you in flight class. 

Also, him humming old love songs to you and playing with your hair I can’t-

Lilia was sitting next to you on the couch, as you flipped through various movies on the television he had in his room. You were in his arms, with his hands in your hair, braiding wherever he could get enough hair to do so. “Hey, Beastie?” He chuckled as you sighed at the lack of familiar movies. “I really do care for you quite a bit. Also, there’s this one Halloween movie that came out a year or two ago. Terror is Trending, or something. We could watch that.” He laughed again and started humming. It seemed to be a classical piece. When you asked what he was singing, he said “Dichterliebe, Robert Schumann’s Op. 48., movement 11.” He smiled at you, and then laughed at your confusion. “Just put the movie on already, Beastie.” 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

The meeting scene from Sleeping Beauty 

That’s it, that’s my idea 

Due to the lack of inspiration, he gets a slightly longer drabble, though? 

You were walking in the woods, pausing at a shallow river, singing to yourself. It wasn’t long until you heard a horse trotting towards you. You turned to face it, and Silver smiled as you did. “It’s nice to see you again, Prefect.” He said, getting off his horse to stand next to the river with you. He looked at you, gently humming the same tune as you were. He reached a hand out to pull you in, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. “Do you know how to dance?” He asked, already starting the movements. When you shook, your head, he laughed, spinning you around. “I’ll teach you. Copy my movements, but backward... 1 2 3, 1 2 3...” He started to dance with you, slowly going from repeating the pattern to singing lightly. He was softly smiling, staring at you even as your eyes were focused on your feet. However, it didn’t take long before his horse seemed to tire of this, pushing the two of you in. “Samson!” Silver cried out, now soaking wet and a bit banged up from shielding you from the fall. “And after I promised you an extra bucket of oats to come out here... No carrots for you tonight.” He spoke, looking at you as you asked him why he had done so. Silver only smiled and responded, “There was something strange about you, and I heard your voice earlier. You’re almost too beautiful to be real. I thought it was some mysterious being, a wood sprite or a fae. Truly lovely either way.”

Sebek Zigvolt - 

He tries to protect you like the knight that he aspires to be 

He will infodump to you about Malleous or Brair Valley or something else of the sort if you let him 

Also, he’s half fae, which means fae/crocodile courting rituals. 

Crocodiles mainly bump snouts as far as I can tell, so expect many boops from him. 

Also, piggyback rides and playful nips if you get close enough to him 

“And that is why Wakasama is the greatest mage in our time!” Sebek finished, still carrying you around the school. When you tried again to tell him it wasn’t needed, Sebek scoffed. “Foolish Human! You said that your leg was tired after running in flight class, and so you must rest your legs lest you injure yourself!” He said, bopping his nose against yours. “Besides, you must know by now that as a friend of Wakasama, it is my job to defend you as I would him! In not doing so, I would be committing a sin worse than just letting you walk by yourself! As such, I will accompany you to and from class from now on. Be grateful, Human!” 

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Che’nya will try to pull as many pranks on you as he can  

Appearing in random places, taking little things from you, and other things showing up in random places you never put them.  

All around being a little menace and trying to make your daily life as annoying as possible 

You sighed, looking towards the floating smile next to you. It laughed, as you held up the empty pencil case, asking it how he expected you to be able to do your homework now. He only chuckled, the rest of his head and shoulders appearing. “Stay pawsitive, Prefect! No need to be so catty!” You rolled your eyes, to which the boy simply snickered and rubbed his head against your cheek. “Come on, my puns are purrfect!” He pulled a pencil out of seemingly thin air, letting you take it from him. “And I’ve got plenty of pens back at RSA if you’d like to take a weekend trip to see me.” 

Neige Leblanche - Kinda angsty, but not much

He’s a sweet guy first and foremost, and his having a crush on you reflects that. 

He buys you flowers, takes you on walks in nature, romantic stuff like that. 

Maybe watching cheesy old movies with you and cuddling 

He wants to be your friend before he dates you, though, and won’t make a move until after you can see what life would be like if you were dating him considering how famous he is. 

He needs to make sure that you’re comfortable with the fame you’ll gain, and that you love him for more than just his popularity. 

Neige sighed, biting his lower lips. He was situated in your arms on the floor of his dorm room, what you’d define as a cheesy romcom on the TV. The most interesting part was the man going through his DM’s next to you. He snuggled into you a bit more as you asked him what was wrong, to which he said “Just... Hate comments and stuff. They’re really mean sometimes. Saying stuff...” He took a deep breath again, and melted against you. “Thank you for treating me like I’m a normal person. It means... So much to me. I... Care for you so much.” 

Rollo Flamme - Rollo's got yandere tendency's

Unfortunately, I can in no way see Rollo having a light crush on anyone 

For him, I imagine it’s an ‘all or nothing’ situation 

So, you’ll end up with a very obsessive and objectively evil wizard trying to win your heart by any means necessary 

But this is not the post for that, so he’s getting toned down to fit into a little drabble  

“Mon amour, how are you feeling?” Rollo asked you, coming into the area that you were lying in. You had been resting in the infirmary since coming back from the destruction he caused, and he sat on the edge of the bed. You turned away from him, closing your eyes and saying that you had no desire to speak to him. Rollo sighed, “Please, my dear? I am begging you, just talk to me.” You shook your head, but he took your hand and kissed your knuckles anyway. “Then I will wait for you to want to speak to me again. However, I do ask that it be soon. I cannot imagine my life without you, my dear angel, and I do not intend to live without you forever.” 

[tuesdayisfordancing]

“Communicate” is almost entirely meaningless advice 90% of the time so here’s a few slightly more specific but still pretty general ideas:

You might be making assumptions you don’t realize you’re making about what another party knows, remembers, or understands. Saying “obvious” things helps clear some of these up. Of course even while making an effort to do this you still might not notice things you’re assuming go without saying; don’t beat yourself up when you discover one of these, discovering it means you’re improving! It’s like playing Zelda: the more you uncover the more you get a sense for where and how to look for things. (Disclaimer: I’ve never played Zelda.)

You can take breaks. I’m thinking of personal relationships here but there’s probably a way to apply a similar concept to other relationships. You can say talking more is too much right now, that you’re tired, that you need to process, that you won’t be at your best if you keep going. One thing that can be really great in a personal relationship is asking if the other person is up for hitting pause and doing something you enjoy together for a while (they might not be up for it, be prepared). You can also hit pause and take some time to yourself.

Communication isn’t just for problems! Tell people when you like and appreciate what they’re doing!

Okay this one is probably as useless or at least almost as “communicate” but: contextualize but don’t over-contextualize. I have made people think something is a bigger or more urgent deal than it is by not starting with “overall this is fine/I like X/whatever” and I have had people entirely mentally reverse my point because I spent longer on the disclaimer than the point.

Anyway. Communication is an actual set of skills that you don’t just magically improve by hearing that “communication is key” often enough. It doesn’t just take effort it also takes learning, trial and error, examples! And best practices for communication vary among people, cultures, specific relationships, etc. This has been Pet Peeves With Tuesday.