#makes me feel less bad about the fact that sometimes i get a lil sad when my s/o calls someone pretty or talks about an ex

[unhingedselfships]

Yandere!Kimi notes

TW : suicide mention, yandere tropes

So some friends and I were talking about -dere types, and ended up discussing yandere types, and we played with, "if you pushed it as far and hard as you could, which would you be?" and here is where I landed. I think this makes the most sense for the Extreme Anime Kimi lol. I took little tidbits of actual traits and just yeeted them as hard as I could into the trope.

Outside of Yan, if I had to class Kimi as a -dere, and not go off the rails with it, probably shundere, with notes of bakadere.

If Kimi was a yandere her most likely type would be ison-gata, dependence type. Highly emotionally manipulative, but not in any way that is controlled or calculated. “I’ll kill myself if you leave me. I’ll be dead and it’ll be all your fault.” Prone to hysterics and tantrums but largely harmless to others, unless you happen to get clipped by something she flings.

She tends to fawn, to dote. She cooks and 'babies' and demands love and validation in return. She provides trinkets and gifts and expects adoration and gratefulness.

Exceptionally needy, but fickle, she demands people cater to her needs. Whether that means undivided attention, or to be left alone. However ‘alone’ really means you’d better be on standby to answer her call immediately.

#yakkimi #yandere #suicide mention #she a lil um #not ok lmfao #i like taking my core traits #and making them as worse as i can think of #and going #“hey at least i could be worse just look at this mess” #makes me feel less bad about the fact that sometimes i get a lil sad when my s/o calls someone pretty or talks about an ex #like i could be way worse #sure i coud be better and im working on that #but at least its not #*gestures to all of the undercut post* #FF! I do actually really like giving people random things from trinkets to memes that made me think of them #and if they like at all thats all the validation i need irl #i like to make my people happy #same with cooking for people #i just like making things people like #which is why i cook a lot of things i will not eat lol #this coversation happed like uh #1.5-2 years ago? #and has sat in the char sheets 'alt vers' section since

[venusiangguk]

the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻,  and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t. 

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes. 

 It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

 I still miss you.

 “Girl, what does that even mean?”

 Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

 “Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

 “I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you. 

 You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

 Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.” 

 “Die.”

 “C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

 Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage. 

 You also don’t get those texts anymore.

 With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

 “No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

 Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

 “Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

 You nod pitifully.

 “She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

 With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

 Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

 It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

 “Has he reached out to you at all?”

 The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective. 

 Did you get home okay?

 Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave. 

 He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

 Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

 And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least. 

 Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless. 

 But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless. 

 Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.  

 The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on. 

 A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly. 

 If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you. 

 It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty. 

 The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real. 

 You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

 Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

 Dasom.

 The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her. 

 An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both. 

 But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

 It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.  

 Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

 You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months. 

 Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

 When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

 “God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

 “A man,” Jade reasons.

 It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

 She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

 She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

 “He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

 “He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

 Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

 Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

 But you do not care and your phone is already out. 

 You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

 “He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

 “Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

 With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?” 

 “You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

 Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her. 

 Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for. 

 “Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

 You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

 Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

 “No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

 “Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

 It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

 And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

 Just a couple of weeks ago. 

 And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason. 

 Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

 Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

 Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person. 

 You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

 The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

 It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work. 

 When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

 In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

 And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it. 

 Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

 “He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

 Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

 “Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

 You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

 Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly. 

 Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing. 

 “We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

 “Binna!” Jade scolds.

 “No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

 “She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

 “In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

 When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

 “I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

 Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point. 

 You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

 ~~~

 The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time. 

 When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

 And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart. 

 You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

 “I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

 The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

 “You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

 You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

 When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

 The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

 “Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

 You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

 His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

 Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants. 

 The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert. 

 “I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.” 

 Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

 There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy. 

 “Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

 He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

 Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure. 

 “I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

 He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

 And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up. 

 You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

 But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him. 

 ~~~

 The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets. 

 Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club. 

 Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get. 

 Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

 However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for. 

 It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

 You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

 Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses. 

 To no avail.

 With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

 He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?” 

 Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

 You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

 But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features. 

 When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights. 

 And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine. 

 But, to you, he’s not really anything special. 

 Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him. 

 Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. 

Because you already know what makes someone special to you. 

 You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand. 

 The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you. 

 He’s not what you want.

 You hum when you admit it to yourself. 

 “I’m not.”

 Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

 Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

 “You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

 His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

 “Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room. 

 It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are. 

 Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings. 

 “I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–” 

 “Wait, I didn’t think that–”

 “–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

 A couple of stilted seconds pass. 

 “In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

 “I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out. 

 Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying. 

 “You’re still young–”

 You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

 “Please shut the fuck up.”

 The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

 “Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?” 

 Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

 Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

 Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

 “He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

 He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

 “7 years?” you try.

 Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

 Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

 He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

 “He told you that you were too young?”

 You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate. 

 Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

 “I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

 Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

 “Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

 Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

 “This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

 “I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

 “A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

 “Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

 “‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

 “Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

 “Yes, I ca–”

 “Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm. 

 You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

 “Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

 Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

 Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

 Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

 Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house. 

 You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

 Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

 You pause now. 

 “Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

 A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers. 

 What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

 “Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

 Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

 Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

 You sniffle. “Huh?”

 His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

 “Gee, thanks–”

 “No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

 “Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

 Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness. 

 He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

 You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

 “Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

 Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up. 

 You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

 Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

 “Yup.”

 “It may help–”

 “Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

 He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

 “I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

 It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. 

 A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. 

 “See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

 You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

 “If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

 You’re definitely going to cry.

 “And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

 With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

 It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

 Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years? 

 And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

 The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

 “He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye. 

 Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

 “Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place. 

 A short staring contest ensues.

 “Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure. 

 Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel. 

 But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that. 

 “That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

 “Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!” 

 It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it. 

 With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

 He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

 Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.  

 There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

 You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

 And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead. 

 “Can I get your number?”

 ~~~

 It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

 Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

 Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

 Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart. 

 So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything. 

 After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.  

 As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

 As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference. 

 As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips. 

 As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

 As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

 The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed. 

 But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page. 

 Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

 BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !! 

 Jeongguk taps open the comments.

 flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

 He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

 Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long. 

 But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post. 

 He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest. 

 The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn. 

 The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop. 

 Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

 ~~~

 He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

 “And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare. 

 With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

 “Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

 He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

 Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.  

 After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

 It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush. 

 Jeongguk is still so jealous. 

 He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir. 

 They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

 Jeongguk knows he should say something. 

 Explain. 

 Say sorry. 

 Ask for forgiveness. 

 But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

 In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him. 

 As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours. 

 He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it. 

 Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

 Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad. 

 It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality. 

 Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

 But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him. 

 You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him. 

 It looks internal, so personal. 

 Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety. 

 Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

 Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him. 

 You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

 He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

 “I’m sorry!”

 Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him. 

 Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

 “I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

 When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over. 

 As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case. 

 “I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

 Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

 When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve. 

 “I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

 You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

 “What about you? Have you been okay?”

 Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

 He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same. 

 Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.  

 But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head. 

 Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks. 

 He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

 A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

 He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

 Take care Gguk.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing. 

  It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him. 

 Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

 ~~~

 Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

 The moment is short-lived. 

 “Where’s Jeongguk?”

 The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

 “What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

 Binna and Jade exchange a look. 

 “Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

 You slow blink at them a single time.

 An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore. 

 “Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

 Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

 Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

 “Fair but–”

 The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

 “Wait, did you not want to work things out?” 

 You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

 “Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily. 

 “Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?” 

 Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?” 

 “You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

 The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

 “You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

 He came back to you.

 It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next. 

 You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be? 

 Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

 You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met? 

 You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

 You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker. 

 “Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

 Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

 Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

 “___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

 And maybe it is. 

 ~~~

 It definitely isn’t.

 Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote. 

 And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

 You don’t even really know how it happened. 

 One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior. 

 All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

 You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

 It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

 He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by. 

 Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to. 

 There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar. 

 You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

 Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks. 

 Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself. 

 So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

 Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

 His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone. 

 “You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

 The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you. 

 “It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

 Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

 When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you. 

 Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his. 

 “It’s been months,” you tell him. 

 As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been. 

 Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment. 

 “Why now?” you question him.

 Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound. 

 The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

 While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers. 

 “I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

 Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

 “That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

 “I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

 The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants. 

 “I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

 “Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

 Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness. 

 He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?” 

 When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement. 

 The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned. 

 He’s still just as scared as he was. 

 Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did. 

 He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

 Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

 When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

 But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you. 

 It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder. 

 A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you. 

 It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

 “It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.” 

 And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

 “It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember. 

 He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.” 

 Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

 “I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

 Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.” 

 There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for. 

 But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of. 

 Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you. 

 It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable. 

 Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

 Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that. 

 It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume. 

 The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.  

 Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult. 

 Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

 It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you. 

 Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands. 

 He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response. 

 “I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.” 

 “Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

 “There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room. 

 “The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

 Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would. 

 But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that. 

 “But then I met you.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t. 

 But alas.

 “All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

 His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

 You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

 Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

 Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

 The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

 “I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

 “Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact. 

 Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

 “I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

 Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

 Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

 “And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

 He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee. 

 “___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

 You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

 “It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

 “That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

 At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his. 

 He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology. 

 And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

 Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

 “I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

 “I know, I know you are– I am too–”

 “Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.” 

 Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. 

 “I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.” 

 The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little. 

 Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?” 

 Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt. 

 Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

 And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.  

 “Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

 The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

 “Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

 A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly. 

 The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room. 

 He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize. 

 Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said. 

 He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him. 

 The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick. 

 “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

 The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

 “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

 “I know,” you reassure, gently. 

 And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember. 

 “I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say. 

 It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it. 

 Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

 You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own. 

 “Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

 You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

 But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them. 

 And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other. 

 So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together. 

 It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have. 

 But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

 Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

 Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

 You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

 “Actually,” you start. 

 So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up. 

 “Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

 Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

 A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

 You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

 Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly. 

 And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault. 

 “No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–” 

 It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

 He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?” 

 You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

 The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

 “No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

 The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

 “Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

 Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

 “___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

 You nod once.

 “I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

 “Okay,” you breathe.

 “I should have listened to you.”

 Again, you nod.

 “I should have chosen you.”

 It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

 “But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

 Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

 He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then. 

 Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak. 

 “No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

 Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

 “I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

 The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova. 

 “I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”  

 Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

 “I want to try.” 

 “Yeah–”

 “If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

 When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

 But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without. 

 He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

 You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

 This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

 Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

 “What do you want to be?”

 “Yours.” 

 Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

 Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice. 

 “My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

 When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.” 

 “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory. 

 Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck. 

 When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time. 

 His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh. 

 “I…”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes. 

 The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm. 

 The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch. 

 It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near. 

 It ends with a kiss.

 Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless. 

 Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you. 

 “Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.  

 “I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–” 

 You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

 He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you. 

 “Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

 Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow. 

 “Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants. 

 A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

 Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

 You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt. 

 Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

 His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back. 

 There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours. 

 “You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected. 

 Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout. 

 “I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

 You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

 When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

 He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

 He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing. 

 And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly. 

 Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.  

 “Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers. 

 He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame. 

 “Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

 Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

 Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can. 

 He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too. 

 And what a pretty sight you are. 

 Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.  

 As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

 “Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags. 

 He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch. 

 “Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

 You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten. 

 “Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

 Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties. 

 He allows you your own pace as well. 

 Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you. 

 Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now. 

 Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.  

 “Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline. 

 “But I–”

 “But I–” he flirts coyly. 

 Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.  

 Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so. 

 He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember. 

 Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

 But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his? 

 You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

 His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

 Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively. 

 Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.  

 Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled. 

 When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

 He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”,  your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open. 

 Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

 When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest. 

 He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug. 

 As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

 “This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

 Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry. 

 Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms. 

 You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

 He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs. 

 “Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better. 

 Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl. 

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

 Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice. 

 Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

 You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

 A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

 You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

 “Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

 Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you. 

 “You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb. 

 “Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp. 

 Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs. 

 Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall. 

 “Too much?” he asks you.

 With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

 Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least. 

 Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb. 

 The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

 When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly. 

 “Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

 And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.  

 When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

 There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

 “It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

 Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

 “Please–”

 “Hush, ___.” 

 There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue. 

 “I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

 It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

 “I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

 Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

 Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute. 

 He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

 You shrug, snooty. 

 Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

 Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

 He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

 “That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

 And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.   

 Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in. 

 Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

 Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side. 

 Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention. 

 Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh. 

 “I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

 Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

 “Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

 “Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

 Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible. 

 Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

 “That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

 He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused. 

 Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny. 

 You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

 “Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

 Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest. 

 You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?” 

 “You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

 “It’s mine,” you argue.

 “Ours,” he corrects.

 After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

 It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

 When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly. 

 “Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

 Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away. 

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

 You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time. 

 “Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy. 

 Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

 “I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision. 

 In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

 “You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily. 

 Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

 The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

 You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs. 

 “All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper. 

 Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

 The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.” 

 Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

 He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.  

 Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

 You nod in his hold. 

 “Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

 You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks. 

 The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit. 

 Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once. 

 “You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

 Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

 His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.  

 He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

 “Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

 You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes. 

 “I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently. 

 On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

 Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses. 

 After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue. 

 “My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

  He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

 Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed. 

 “Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

 Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

 When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

 You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

 “Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk. 

 He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

 While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

 Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

 Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

 “I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

 “Your mess–”

 “Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

 Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

 “Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

 And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands. 

 You suppose some things may never change.

 The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you. 

 His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

 Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

 It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole. 

 In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

 That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

 You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high. 

 It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

 And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens. 

 But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.   

 “You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

 He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

 “I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

 You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again. 

 His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

 You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy. 

 With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

 The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

 “You’re so hard…” 

 The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin. 

 “Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

 He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

 The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

 You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

 Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow. 

 The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off. 

 Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

 “What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

 You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully. 

 “Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

 Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

 “Like this?” you ask, coquettishly. 

 Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

 “Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth. 

 You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

 “Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

 Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

 Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

 Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

 Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in. 

 Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm. 

 He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

 The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks. 

 “I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again. 

 You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

 “Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

 The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.  

 Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

 He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’. 

 “I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

 It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him. 

 “You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

 And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

 Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum. 

 “Not– not yet?” 

 Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown. 

 A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant. 

 “Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape. 

 Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

 And you can tell he’s going to cum. 

 He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.  

 It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

 “Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

 His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm. 

 Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

 He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

 His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

 “Good girl,” he says, softly.

 His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

 Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs. 

 “Can we do it now?”

 His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused. 

 “Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

 You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

 He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

 Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock. 

 One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses.. 

 He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening. 

 “Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

 He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

 Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

 “Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again. 

 Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think. 

 “No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips.. 

 His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

 Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

 You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?” 

 He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.  

 “On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

 With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear. 

 “Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

 Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan. 

 The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

 “I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

 “Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

 You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

 Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him. 

 But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long. 

 The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs. 

 And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

 “Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.” 

 You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle. 

 It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making. 

 Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

 He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.” 

 Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

 “Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

 Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you. 

 “Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

 You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

 ~~~

 “Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

 The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand. 

 He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

  It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

 “So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

 He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut. 

 “You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

 But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

 “Everything is your fault.”

 It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

 “Hey,” he says gently.

 You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

 Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

 You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

 “I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

 Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you. 

 “I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

 And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal. 

 “Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

 “As long as you want me.”

 Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

 His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

 There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not. 

 So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?” 

 ~~~ 

 However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

 But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once. 

 It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

 It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

 You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

 The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

 “That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

 The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly. 

 And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche. 

 “Of fucking course.”

 “___.”

 “No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

 Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your. 

 “Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

 His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

 With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid. 

 You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

 Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

 Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

 When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway. 

 “I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

 And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

 As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

 Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

 But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

 “___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you. 

 “Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused. 

 Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal. 

 You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!!  i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fic #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook fic recs #jungkook oneshot #jungkook series #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #kpop #kpop fanfic

[jaxxsoxxn]

That one scene from Hercules the Disney movie

Captain cold : I can’t believe you’re getting so walked up about some hero

Captain boomerang : this one is different. He’s honest and sweet. Captain cold : oh please 

Captain boomerang : he would never do anything to hurt me 

Captain cold : he’s the flash 

No, 'cause Boomer is probably so defensive about it. Cold would rather die than admit he cares, but he saw how Speedster can and will fuck you up, so whenever the two r just chilling around him, he gets full-on nitpicky.

Because of Flash's speed healing, I honestly doubt he has a lot of scars, especially from Digger, but the other way around? It's never anything too dangerous, usually a smaller cut that healed badly in the prison or something alike, but he has more than many scars from our fav Speedster. It's nothing that's too noticeable usually and his biggest harm was breaking his nose once or twice, which with how many times it was broken already makes it less than worth noting...

...for anyone, but Leonard Snart himself and his picky nature. Does he intend to make Flash feel bad with his snarky comments? Not exactly, but he's happy with it, even if they won't break up. Golden Glider absolutely adores it and tries her best to comfort Digger by saying "It's just in his big brother nature", but she's also not sure about what Flash wants from this relationship.

I wrote before that the JLA would need some time to understand that Digger is dating him without a second reason, but the Rouges? Some of them would eventually accept that Captain Boomerang and The Flash are dating just because they like each other and no-one is planning on changing their sides, even if Boomer is already on the grey-ish spectrum (tho most Rouges enjoy being on the grey-ish spectrum), some of them would never understand.

Trickster, for one, adores the fact that he can now hang out with the Flasher and just fool around! He's pretty fond of it and Boomer looks 100 times happier than before, so he's okay with it as long as it won't mess up anything.

Mirror Motherfucker- I mean, Master likes that he can annoy Barry more, but his fun is usually cut short because if there's one thing this man can do, it's running. The second Boomer is ready for their date or just happy to get somewhere else, he disappears. Him and Mirror boy ain't becoming besties any time soon, sadly. Lisa, who adores M&M(s), is a little sad because of it.

I feel like Captain Cold could warm up to the idea- (haha, get it?) but over all, he would not be a fan. You can see your totally-not-friend get his ass handed by a guy this many times before not trusting him with said totally-not-friend.

Weather Wizard would take a hot moment to warm up to the Speedster, but in the end, he'd be happy for the two (CC: Et tu, Mark?). He is the one and probably only Rouge that is willing to listen to Digger's rants about speedy. He's not trusting Barry per se, but he's not unhappy about the two together - even if there's no gain for him in it.

Golden Glider, a sour sweetheart she is, acts way more happily about it than she is - if she'll learn that Mark gets the juicy info from Digi, she's silently seething. Might be a little too much like her brother sometimes...

Heatwave, gods bless him, is slightly bitter about the fact that the Suicide Squad knows before them. Like, what do you mean people that kidnapped you know before us, your friend- he means, coworkers! He sulks a little, but as he's pretty happy for Digger, he is not as happy for Flash.

Also, a lil thing:

(expect possible ColdWeather/Hail aka CC x WW in the closest future <3 bc i lov 'em

Also the chatfic will happen!! I'll post the link to it, bc this mf is going to be on ao3, sorry <3 ships expected: Boomerflash, HarleyIvy, Flag x Deadshot for fun, Mirror Master x Golden Glider possibly, ColdWeather/Hail probably

It will be a chiller, easy to read and write ff! More info later <3)

#idk #probably bad english #bsing trough life #<3 #flash x captain boomerang #art #ssktjl #boomerflash #fanart #captain boomerang #The flash rouges #Rouges #mirror master #captain cold #dc comics #Weather wizard #the trickster #flash rogues #captain on captain violence #my tag for cc & cb friendship fr #Golden glider #gal am so sorry that i called u star glider n light glider last time #Its not u its me #I think uhh mirror man n gliding gal are kinda canon?? But i might be reading their vibes wrong #“U need to learn me how to ice skate <3” and “you just like the fact that you can see yourself in the ice :P <3” r kinda flirty for me?? Id #That prev tag is paraphrasing their canon convo btw <3

[fletchysohot]

VI.

Oh how I miss her! (feat. Andy Robertson)

Lil cheeky request from @yellowkitkieran because sometimes we all need someone else hold down the fort and write about our fave people for us so we don't have to. Kieran at Scotland camp, missing his girlfriend so bad he decides to get a 2nd opinion from a teammate about how to woo a girl. Cute and sweet.

Hope you are all enjoying int break!

Word Count: 2.2k

Days on international break have become mundane and repetitive to say the least, the weather of somehow always cold and rainy Scotland making the days seem grimmer. Kieran used to yearn for international break, the chance to play for his country and wear the crest above his heart being his favourite time of year. But this time it's different. This time he had to leave you behind and travel back up north. His heart had almost broken and shattered when he had to get out of your comfortable and warm bed to say goodbye, painfully aware that you would be out of his reach for so long. He had however not expected missing you to be this hard and painstaking. He did not account for that worry that you have somehow forgotten him would cloud his mind once in a while, even though you texted at any chance. He had also not accounted for the fact that not being able to spoil you would somehow make him feel less worthy of your time.

The man has spent the last three hours pacing his room trying to figure out how to make you feel loved and appreciated. He knows you are not the type for grand gestures like hiring a skywriter or a limousine that would take you to Scotland, although the thought has crossed his mind. He also doesn't  want it to come off as a second thought like sending you a balloon that said I love you. It was too early for that and somehow also too late for that. 

Kieran has always insisted that his one true love is the beautiful game of football. Ever since he was a wee lad his life has revolved around the ball at his feet. No matter what was happening around the man, whether it be teenage breakups or moves across the country to follow his dream, to a place where he has no friends, football had been the one constant in his life. But now after you have come into his life everything has changed and been tossed upside down.

No matter how he tries to wrap his head around the issue and live up to his own expectations, somehow none of the ideas in his mind seem to measure up to what he thinks you deserve. 

—-

And so here he is, standing at the door bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He stretches the sweaty fingers from the fist they have been the whole way here, trying to calm down. The man tries to stretch his neck, to hopefully get rid of the cramp that has formed between his shoulder blades. He's never been stressed to talk to any of his teammates, let alone Andy. But somehow he is thrown back in time, back to being a child about to ask one of the older kids if he can join their football game after class. Kieran considers giving up and retreating to his room and spending another five hours trying to find a way to swoon you. 

But it's too late, because the door is swinging open and he is met by the warm brown eyes of his captain.

“Kieran!” the older man sounds excited, the surprise evident on his face. 

Kieran doesn't reply, suddenly a knot is stuck in his throat, all the colour drained from his face. 

“Are you okay?” Andy's eyes fill for worry and honestly it almost makes the Kieran cry. Andy's eyes have always given away every ounce of his emotion he's feeling and now seeing himself be the reason for those same usually gleeful eyes to be full of pain and sadness and worry makes him want to scream into a pillow.

“Yeah I'm okay.” Kieran almost doesn't recognize his voice from how strained it sounds. 

Andy doesn't reply.

“I-” Kieran stammers “I- Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Andy replies instantly, stepping aside so Kieran can walk into the room. “You are not making my worry less however.”

“Now tell me, what's wrong?” Andy asks Kieran, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, feeling the burning gaze of his friend on him. “Kieran? Sit! You are stressing me out!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” The younger scrambles to plop down on the end of the bed. Andy sits down on one of the chairs in the corner of the room. 

An awkward silence falls between the pair, the only sound is Kieran awkwardly and rather desperately running his hands up and down his thighs in an attempt to dry his hands over his pants.

“Kieran!” Andy is the first to break the silence, his voice dripping with urgency.

“I shouldn't have come here,” the younger groans. 

“I'm worried about you and I won't let you leave. You look absolutely distraught, dripping with sweat and pale as a ghost…” Andy raies an eyebrow, “and that's coming from me!”

Kieran cracks a smile letting out a heavy breath. “I need advice” he finally let's out.

“Oh God if you need me to check a spot that may be a std-” Andy exclaims, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Ew no! Is that something that happens?” Kieran looks at him startled. 

“Oh thank God! You would be surprised and slightly concerned if you knew how often.” A heavy sigh of relief tumbles out of Andy's chest.

  “Who?” Kieran cracks a half smile.

“Did you come here to gossip or?” Andy laughs lightly, an undertone of authority still evident beneath the playful exterior. 

“Okay okay.” Kieran rubs his temple in defeat.

“Well?” 

“Okay so…” Kieran begins and pauses.

“Okay so?” Andy repeats as if to encourage Kieran to talk.

“Okay so… I miss my girlfriend.” Kieran pauses waiting for Andy to laugh, but no sounds follow, instead Andy watches him with genuine kindness and almost love in his eyes. 

So Kieran continues, “Like, it's new and I know it's silly but she's so different from anyone before. Like usually I love being here, but right now there is nowhere else I'd rather be than on her couch watching one of her stupid shows and laughing about the people on the screen or walking around London trying to find the best kebab in the whole city or trail behind her as she explores every inch of the museum, observing her never ending curiosity to learn new things in real life. Fuck I'd even gladly sit shoulder to shoulder with her on the stuffy train, just cause she needs to try a specific doughnut flavour on the other end of the city just to find out they had a store around the corner from her apartment a few days later. As long as she's next to me. Like how the hell have I fallen this bad for someone in a few months…”

He looks at Andy through his lashes, a helpless look in his eyes.

“I get you,” Andy says without much thought. The earnest look in the older's eyes almost shocks the younger, but then Kieran realises that Andy and him may not be in such different situations. It's the way Andy looks beyond Kieran's shoulder, his gaze searching for someone or something. Kieran thinks about how he's seen Andy and his wife embrace whenever they have games, how the older looks at the woman and how she looks at him. Like they are each other's light in the dark, he thinks about how Andy always sneaks off away from the other lads to call home and wish her goodnight, to read bedtime stories. Kieran thinks back to how he's never seen his captain more happy than when his son runs into his arms at games. 

Andy might not have a hot, sexy girlfriend that makes his head spin and butterflies erupt in his stomach, but he has a family. He has a wife that loves him through all the highs and lows, someone he's withstood the trials of time with. Andy has something Kieran wishes he would have with you in a few years. 

“So what can I help you with?” The curiosity in Andy's voice brings Kieran out of his little daydream. The suddenness of reality makes his cheeks sting and burn. 

“I'm not sure she knows how important she is to me,” he croaks.

“Now that I doubt. I'm sure she knows how important to you she is.” Andy softens his voice, mistakenly thinking Kieran is here looking for comfort. The slight unintended pity makes Kieran want to crawl into the ground never to be seen again.

“No! It's not that!” the words fall from his mouth like a waterfall, harsh and messy. His hands grow sweaty and shame fills his eyes. This was a mistake.

Andy straightens up, clearly slightly taken aback by the younger's outburst. The older's face is contorted in concentration, searching for an answer without having to ask. He must have noticed the panic in the eyes of Kieran.

“I wanted to ask for advice on how to make her feel special… Like you have a wife, you know these things.” He scratches the back of his neck, each word making him internally cringe and retract.

“Oh?” At first it sounds like a hiccup but based on the expression on the other man's face Kieran deduces that it was Andy who was left surprised. 

“Do you think,” Kieran is suddenly overly aware of everything around the two of them, “you might have any advice?”

“I can try.” Andy laughs, the sound making Kieran feel more safe and relaxed instantly, “Does she like flowers?”

“Uh I think she does,” Kieran says unsure of himself.

“What's her favourite flower?” Andy asks, leaning forward, waiting for an answer.

Kieran doesn't reply at first. He closes his eyes replaying every moment of the two of you together, trying to remember you mentioning flowers or plants. With each passing second his heart beats faster, his skin becoming moist again and worry creeps up his spine inch by excruciating inch.

“I don't know." Kieran's voice sounds pained and small and full of shame. His eyes are now lined by tears. 

“It's okay,” Andy says softly. “It's still early in the relationship. Maybe you just forgot at the moment. How about we go off what flowers remind you of her?”

Kieran nods.

“How about roses?” Andy offers.

“She's not basic like a rose,” Kieran instantly retorts.

“Okay no roses.” Andy nods, mentally noting down the comment, “I'll know not to get you roses too.”

The comment makes Kieran ease up again, to relax back onto the bed.

“What about lilies?” Andy asks again.

“Too posh.”

“Daisies?” “Not special enough.”

“Irisis?”

“No…” Kieran feels frustration creep into his mind at coming off so difficult when it's just flowers. It would have been so much easier if he had just known what your favourite flower is.

“What about peonies? They are very beautiful and I think those are special.”

Kieran shakes his head, eyes filling with tears again and his lip quivering. There has to be a million types of flowers in the world and none of them seem to hit the mark. 

“Okay no peonies.” Andy nods “How about you tell me what she reminds you of? Maybe then we will know what flower to look for?”

“She's like the sun. She makes every day worth waking up to and she brightens my world. Until I met her everything seemed to just be chaos but now I feel like she's pulled me into her orbit and now we revolve around each other. Like it's not been so long since we started dating but all I think about is her and I know I sound crazy and whatever but something about her just pulls me in and I can't explain it.” Kieran's face lights up as he talks about you. 

“You really like this girl huh?” Andy's smile illuminates his eyes.  

“Yeah.” Kieran feels himself blush.

“You should get her sunflowers,” Andy says,  “they are pretty and special and have the name sun in them.”

Sunflowers! Sunflowers are perfect! You took Kieran on your first date to the art museum to see an exhibit about Vincent Van Gogh and you spent hours telling him about how much you loved his art, especially the painting of sunflowers. You were wearing a lingerie set with tiny embroidered sunflowers the first time the two of you were intimate. 

“I should send Rachel some peonies,” Andy wonders to no one in particular. “It's been ages since I sent her flowers just for fun.”

Kieran smiles at the older.

“You want some company at the flower store tomorrow?” Andy asks Kieran. “I'm sure they will let us sneak out for a few hours.”

“I'd love nothing more,” Kieran grins at his friend.

As Kieran and Andy stand at the door Kieran hugs him tightly.

“Thank you so much Andy ” his voice is muffled against his friend's shoulder.

“Any time,” Andy chuckles. “I'm here to help you on and off pitch after all.”

#football fanfic #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer x you #premier league #arsenal fc #kieran tierney #scotland national team #scotland nt #Scottish nt #andy robertson #lfc

[writerfae]

(Warning! these are angsty)

1 Can you talk about what was it like when the family found Ranva dead and the immediate aftermath of her death?

I mean, I imagine that Henry has to have had a moment where it dawned on him that he was going to have to be the one to take care of things, right?

And I remember you saying that poor 8 yo Aiden was the one to find her body, and...😭

Also Henry comforting Aiden with his nightmares😭😭😭

2 (a bit less angsty?) What did Henry used to do if Aiden was upset or sad? (Especially after he was the main person taking care of him)

And a little bit related to this: fun fact about my ocs that I thought you'd enjoy:

Ákos and Adél both cry easily (her more than him). Yes, he learned it from her, because she said that when he's upset he shouldn't keep it bottled up. (Yes, this was one of the things that annoyed Endre to no end before the incidentTM)

And sometimes when Ákos cries, he will put his head in Adél's lap and turn toward and bury his face into her stomach, and cry like one would cry into a pillow. It's impossible to hear a word he says when he does this.

Hi! :) I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit slow with interactions this week, I’m sort of stressed 😅

1) I will not go too much into detail here cause it makes me sad (I hope you don’t mind)

When Ranva died, Milan and the boys were out hunting. When they came home, Aiden ran ahead to show his mom a cool crow feather he found and that’s why he found her first. Milan and Henry came in shortly after though.

Of course they immediately ran to her, but it was pretty obvious what happened to her. And while Milan all but clung to her body, Henry saw Aiden just stand there frozen in place and immediately tried to get him out of that situation, putting his own shock aside (or maybe just acting on instinct).

Henry also went over to their neighbor after he wasn’t able to get his father to let go of Ranva and he didn’t know what to do.

Milan was pretty much traumatized and blamed himself and he was in a constant state of denial/apathy that his childhood friend tried to get him out of but it didn’t work. His condition was really bad and though his friend tried to tell him that his sons need him he couldn’t really bring himself to care for them anymore and instead needed care himself.

Henry pretty soon realized that he needed to take responsibility for his family and Aiden especially like he promised his mom once. Him and Aiden worked through a lot of their grief together but Henry only really allowed himself to cry when Aiden wasn’t around (he had a lil breakdown in Holly’s house).

Aiden and Henry would often sit under their mother’s apple tree together to feel close to her. Sometimes Henry would look for Aiden and find him napping curled up under the tree. Like I said, they grieved together mostly, Aiden slept in Henry’s bed for like half a year after their mother’s death.

(Aiden had nightmares to that time, among them the one with the girl with the crown of thorns and there was a time where he asked Henry if she was the one who killed their mom)

At the beginning Milan’s friend cared for the family completely but over time Henry started to take over more and more responsibility. Holly still helps them out a lot, especially when caring for Milan. She also did most of the cooking before Aiden started to take that part over. Meanwhile Henry pretty much filled in the role of the “man of the house”, since Milan unfortunately never fully recovered.

People assumed that Ranva was killed by a bugler and they were searching for the murderer a while but quickly gave up since there was no trace. Ranva was buried on the village’s graveyard near Milan’s parents. In the years after she passed a tree started to grow there. It’s an apple tree.

2) Henry was always good at dealing with an upset or sad Aiden. What he would do depended a lot on the situation and Aiden’s age, but it was always what he needed. Henry would sing or read to him or give him a hug/cuddle up with him. Sometimes he just let Aiden complain and listened. Sometimes he just left him alone.

When Aiden was very little, he would make jokes and do little magic tricks to cheer him up or pick him up and just let him cry into his neck (he did the same for Aiden after their mother died and for Callan after he lost his father). Sometimes just being there is enough and Henry was always a quiet yet supportive presence.

I love Ákos and Adél, they’re so cute. Thanks for sharing this adorable fact about them with me! ^^

#I’m so sorry for this sorry attempt of a reply but this is the best I got lately 😭 #but I didn’t want to have you wait too long for a response #hope you’re not disappointed #writer speaks #writeblr #wip: the knights of the alder

[nanowired-lover]

Forgetting previous tag vent but I gotta ramble about All Saints Street fr !!! Send help !!

Disclaimer : so far, i just watched the donghua and i saw some part of the manhua here and there. And got some infos from fanfics bc i couldn't wait fr

Plus I don't watch a lot of animes, like maybe one every year/2 years, which explain the big feels-

Also I was genuinely surprised by it ? Bc even if i knew it was a goofy and good small donghua from what I heard, I thought a lot of things would be kinda... one dimensional.

(i added more in the reblogs lmao)

All Saints Street is so fucking cute i can't

Especially the angel and demon crew.

I was so happy when I noticed that Neil, all cute, good-hearted and clumsy was sometimes a bit of a savage, especially with his brother in the manhua (deserved ngl, even if Nick was just trying his best and thought he was helping, he sucked at it).

Same for Lily, i loved the fact that she's a battle angel, and mischievious, and not only the straight A student little miss perfect. She's no perfect cutie pie and little me would have relate to her or Neil SOOOOO much.

Neil and Lily are really a nd4nd ship lmao.

And Lynn !! I love that even if he doesn't approve the fact that Neil is crushing on his sister and he's protective, and that he's tired of the mess of Neil and his brother are doing, he doesn't hate Neil. He even likes him, bc he likes young people and Neil is so sweet and full of good.

And same with his relationship with Nick !! I thought this ship was going to be a bit too cliché for me but. They fight and bickers but- Lynn gets genuinely touched when Nick didn't forget his birthday and even gave him a good gift like. It's smh realistic ?? They can tolerate each other (from what i saw in the manhua too) and even spent good time with each other but they are both adults and dumb as fuck with feelings.

I really see Lynn not only as a character, but a strictly catholic-raised autistic bisexual man with a lot of childhood neglect that he's trying to compensate by being overly protective of his sister and loved ones.

Now that I think about it, especially with his "there's not bad student, only bad teachers" thing, he's making me think of my uncle but less anxious 💀

Then Nick. Bro this man stole my heart but that's probably due to the denial I had about liking him at first. I genuinely thought i wasn't going to like him as much as I do rn ?? He looked like "just" a smug mischevious kinda OP bastard and that's it. And even if those characters are cool and I like them, I didn't think more about it. BUT BROOOOO HE'S PATHETIC /pos

He isn't OP at all, he's a bit stupid, and probably the queerest mofo of the serie. And he genuinely thought he was helping is lil brother, and he genuinely likes Lynn. It's a bit of "pulling pigtails for attention" situation ngl, and it's funny for once. He cares ! He's a lot and smug about it !

Also, I haven't read the manhua yet, but from what I saw, I hold no sympathy for his father 💀💀💀 bro left his kid and asks him to get him out off trouble and makes him believe that he cares about him and DUUUUDE i'm so mad that Nick still loves his dad. Not in a "it's a bad trope" way, but more like in a "it's actually realistic but rn i see my friend who took years to realise how bad and abusive was their relationship with their parents and same for me and my mom" way. Like I wanna punch the man far from Nick so much.

Maybe I'm wrong and I'm missing stuff but >:( fuck his dad

Also idk if it's a canon thing but the whole commitment issues from Nick makes sense and my angsty decided to obviously blame his father lmao

Like he kinda wants to be like his father bc of his blind admiration but also... "no, dad didn't leave bc of Neil" and the unsaid "he left bc of me" that a lot of person in his situation have probably thought at one point in their life sadly, which makes him scared of people genuinely loving him. y-yeah... i love being sad /j

Also lmao. Nick is babygirl.

(the pic at the bottom)

Oh and it was S2 ep10 lmao-

#nano.txt #nano RAMBLES even #i'm going to send this post to every friends that talks english and that watched A.S.S. (LMFAO AHAHAH) after i bothered them enough #...i don't want to main tag but i also want to find this post back in my account......... #welp #all saints street

[roxannepolice]

Ever since POTD aired I have been raging in my tags, casually reblogging wonderful gifs and fanarts, and staying away from discussions by not using any main tags, but. I'm starting to feel like that 52 Hz whale. Or Beatles' fool on the hill. And I can't tell if it's hearing impairment on my part or if the old guy playing the lyre is not really touching the strings. I can only hope anyone who might get upset filters their tags and won't go under the cut, but I genuinely need to share this with anyone.

Can someone tell me what the Doctor being forced to regenerate into the Master actually did? What it means, outside of welp, I guess text said it is so so it so and it's bad because the text said it's bad? Apart from the Doctor being... less un-present in the story than when a little girl turned them into a picture, but wtv, I get what happened here, Thirteen is in the netherworld of regeneration, and for now no embodied consciousness of the Doctor exists, while the Master's does. But that's in no way different from the Doctor just being dead? Stuff achieved by a self-made flood in alternative timeline in Turn Left? Tho I guess then the Master stays trapped as Yana at the end of the universe, incidentally Saxon is not mentioned in the episode and, well there's a reason TL is so good.

I mean, the one, definite thing that's supposed to stay throughout all of the regenerations, the thing that makes the character the same bloody character and not simply the same show with a protagonist of the same name are MEMORIES. Like this approach to identity or not, that's what's spelled out by Five:

And incidentally when Roberts!Master absorbs Eight's lives he also explicitly gets the Doctor's memories.

So, the logical conclusion is, the Master absorbed the Doctor's memories when she was forced to regenerate into him, right? That's what it means that he's the Doctor now, isn't it?

Well, no. He doesn't know who Fugutive Doctor is.

Something he should know if he now has the Doctor's memories. Nitpick? A handful of lines? Maybe. Except the plot's resolution depends on this handful of lines, you'd expect thought to be put into them. I guess the argument can be made that he's in post-regenerative stress? The Doctors sometimes had memory problems after regenerating? But that's kind of a stretch considering the confidence of both Yaz and the Doctor's disembodied memories that the Master won't know who Fugitive is. Watsonianly I guess this stretch could be made, but doylistly it's glaring that no thoughts were made.

And look, if it was just the case that the Master is an idiot? That the idea that one time lord can be regenerated into another was simply as wrong as that Rassilon will let them ascend into eternal choruses of harmony of the spheres? OK! I'd take it! Realisations are made, things are felt, reactions happen, a story is told. But in POTD no-one questions whether the Master is now the Doctor on the grounds of identity, memories, immortal soul, Dasein or whatever you choose to call it, only on... companions knowing the Master is not the Doctor. I guess in School Reunion Ten spent some time not being the Doctor when Sarah Jane hasn't spontaneously realised he's the person? And still was the Doctor as John Smith because Martha knew about the chameleon arch?

There could be some discussion about refected self as/vs. identity but this isn't what the text seems to be saying or what anyone got from it? And I know I'm ranting stuff out, but I genuinely want to discuss this! Am I missing something here, just what is there for the reader to sympathize with? I mean, it's sad, and Dhawan's teary lil' eyes are heartbreaking, but I really don't get what actually happened there?...

Which is something that frustrates me, personally. Again, I really don't want to start any haterants, it is no hill I'm ready to die on, in fact it's fairly possible I'll slide down it as soon as I post this, but I also really want to discuss this with someone...

'Cause right now I guess I have to admit this situation indeed makes me sympathize with the Master as the only person that seems aware of plot implications of a major development that noone else acknowledges. And I admit: it sucks.

#tw: negativity #negativity #chibnall critical #power of the doctor #doctor who meta #the master meta #or rather inviation to discussion #last time i was so frustrated was when my supervisor wouldn't allow my theretical approach #so guess what i wrote a thesis so everyone would admit my logic is sound and fruitful #ranting so maybe i'll finally sleep #again i really really hope i've tagged it so people can filter it out but let me know if i should add sth

[kvnghs-archive]

just gotta have a lil real dump here for a min.

i don’t feel very wanted/needed on this platform anymore.  it feels like my ideas and muses have run their course and no one is interested in what i have to offer.  conversations to start the most basic and simple plots are often one-sided, ending before they even begin, or just left on read with nothing to ever come of it.  i need to discuss plots, characters, etc in order to even have the motivation to be here to write, and i’m not getting much of that anymore (unless i write a specific canon male character on a solo blog, but we’ve learned our lesson there).  when i started here, regardless of who i was writing (canon or oc) i would always get random questions about my muses in the inbox.  just dumb little things that people were interested in — what’s their shampoo smell like? do they sleep with the closet door open?  socks on or off at night?  simple things...ya know?  that makes such a difference to me, that someone thinks my silly little muse is interesting enough to know some funny little facts about them.  now it just feels like people are only in search of a plot device to insert into their story and not the actual character they’re writing against.  i want to know about your muses.  i want you to tell me their morning routine, i want to know the dumb little things my muse would know too.  i crave the interaction the rpc is no longer giving out freely like it once did.  

i am slow, and i very much understand that, but the reason i am so slow is because the rpc as a whole is failing.  people have decided it’s not worth reaching out anymore because they’re being ignored, the elitism and cliques are once again getting out of hand with the drama, and it’s just kind of a sad place to be when you’re not in one of those cliques.  especially you 30-somethings out here trying to start drama with kids like it’s high school...but that’s a whole different and very long post for another time.  anyway, what used to be an escape to enjoy with people in my hobby is kind of just a depressive place to be now.  i don’t feel the excitement for my muses, i don’t feel like people are here to learn anything about my muses, and i’m very much starting to feel like a pity party.  while i am fully away this is also my bad mental health speaking, at the same time it’s also not.  

edited*  what happened to the support the rpc once had?  is it only applicable if you have the correct aesthetics and use the prettiest graphics?  i can’t use photoshop very well, but i like to think i can write okay, so why do my graphics dictate how you see me as a writer?  i don’t care if your promo is pretty, i want to support you so i’m going to reblog it.  the rpc is not as supportive as it once was and you cannot tell me otherwise.  i rarely see promos cross my dash ( mine have less than 10 notes, and it’s me and like one other person most of the time...it literally hurts my feelings to spend time on something that gets completely ignored and i am not sorry about that ), people aren’t commenting and communicating as much as they once were, and i think it’s completely skewing the rpc as a whole.  the same goes for edits, is it hard to like a post someone spent time on?  you can unlike it later if you need to clean your likes, but sometimes people just like to be acknowledged for something they’re excited about.  i have been so excited to post something like an edit or what i thought was interesting about my muse, or just fun that other people might think was cool, to only be met with crickets on the other side.  it’s disheartening and not what the rpc is supposed to be about.

i’m complaining to myself as well, because i’ve stopped being as interactive with the dash as i once was.  but as i said before, after time and time again of being shut out, ignored, and even blocked after speaking to someone...can you really blame people for no longer reaching out?

anyway, sorry if you came in to read this.  i’ve been very much struggling here, and thought making harley would help, but it’s only further solidified that feeling.  i’m really trying to navigate around it, but i’m not even sure where to start with people anymore.  like i’m almost afraid to even reblog things from people anymore because they’re so adamant about reblogging everything from the source, not messaging first, and not even following them first like?  isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing here?  idk, the rpc has lost its luster and i really miss the community we used to have here.

so anyway...if you’d like to talk about our muses, plots, etc, i’ll do my best to ask random questions, send asks, make edits, and all that jazz as long as it isn’t one-sided.  my ims, ask, and disco are always available though i do miss (or just never get) notifications sometimes so don’t hesitate to boop me.  i’d just love to find some more writing partners to bounce ideas back and forth with.  i have either lost contact with most of mine over the years or they stopped writing all together unfortunately. :/

disco: shiny shitbag ✨#6427

#( mun shit. ) #gotta get the vent out somewhere before i explode #i am just sad with how the rpc has essentially closed itself off #and i've been here for a decade to watch the slow decline into isolation #this was a lot #tbd

[bunny-rambles]

my baby ;;; you're not selfish for feeling sad or lonely, you're human, and it's human to experience disappointment :(((

let me tell you a story tho: when i was a bit younger than i am now i was actually a pretty famous fanfiction writer. seems silly now that i think back on it but i actually was :' the type of famous where i woke up with people writing that they wished to be able to write like me, or that i was their inspiration, or that they hoped we could be friends. and you know what the funny story was? at the time my writing was atrocious. utterly, terribly, cringe-worthy type of writing, the type that makes older me want to go back and slap younger me in the face.

after that i took sort of a gap year, talked to some senior writers, improved my writing a lot, and when i came back guess what? my time had kind of ended, all the people that used to follow me where not there anymore and i went to receiving tons of comments to every single one of my stories to having like, one or two and mostly from my closest friends. yet the fics i wrote in that period were undoubtedly better than anything else that i had written prior. and it was kind of disheartening, but in my case at the end of the day i came to realise that writing was a thing that made me happy, first and foremost, and if by doing that i could make someone else happy as well it didn't really matter to me whether it was one person or one hundred, even if i never really stopped thinking about all the what ifs. sometimes i still wish i was the type of fanwriter that receives praise and appreciation and has people drawing fanarts on her works. because i'm human, and as such i have ambitions, i have dreams, i feel hurt, and all the likes.

what i was trying to say with this useless story is. first of all, recognition and praise doesn't make your talent. you're no less good of a writer if no one reads you and you're no necessarily better if you have thousands of followers. you're you, and what you write is a reflection of you, and it's good and it might be improvable as everything human is, but it's also perfect as is, and you shouldn't let even yourself think that it's not. but secondly, feeling sad is human, feeling left out is human, and you shouldn't feel bad about feeling like that, like you're selfish for suffering or something.

this was supposed to be comforting in some way but eh, unfortunately i never had a way with words when it came to feelings. what i was trying to say though is, i unfortunately can't fix your problems like i had some sort of magic wand. but if i can tell you how good i genuinely think you are every single time i write to you then i will, because i think it's true. and if one day i'll find you with thousands of followers i'll be really happy for you and i really wish you'll achieve that, but that won't change the fact that i still get a smile on your face whenever i see you posting a new work :3

and speaking of works! i've seen your new ruby piece and will rush to check it out, but the part of me that still believed me to be able to make a point wanted to write to you first. feel free to answer to this or not, it was more of a incoherent babble for you ahah

goodnight my sweet buns, i'll send lots of hugs to hold you tight whenever your mood drops even a lil bit

con affetto,

- 🍓

Hm,

I wish I could make myself believe that I’m not selfish or greedy for wanting to have my feelings noticed, but at this moment in time, I can’t bring myself to. I feel like sometimes, maybe I should never show emotions to anyone. Other times, I feel like this is my safe place, and maybe it should be okay to express when I’m not feeling my best. I’m 50/50 with everything at this moment in time, and I’m still working on not feeling selfish for experiencing emotion. It’s a work in progress.

Anyway, apologies for going off topic, I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been writing for years, just never published any, and I too got compliments that (now) I think were just completely undeserved. Now I’m improving, I wish for those comments back, because now I feel like my writing is at the standard I want it to be (at times, sometimes it still feels stiff and emotionless to me) but I just never get them. It’s very disheartening.

Like the Ruby piece, since you brought it up, I think last time I posted the first part I got a lot of notes, now the second part, although yes has a lot of praise instead of silent rb’s, is barely at 150. And I think it’s so much better than almost all of my posts !! It’s the longest thing I’ve written, the longest I’ve worked on a piece, and had the most enjoyment out of writing it. Sure, it might not be perfect, but I enjoyed writing it. And truthfully that’s all that should matter. It’s just, when I spend so much time on something, I’d want it to get what I think is suitable attention. That was really off topic, sorry. My head isn’t feeling very good so I’m rambling a lot more.

But… Thank you. I don’t think my writing is perfect, but I’m glad you think so. And I’ll try not to feel selfish for feeling the things that I do.

It was comforting, I’ve reread this a few times since you’ve sent it in. I wasn’t expecting you to say anything since you rarely send more than one message if I’ve not responded, but it was a very pleasant surprise. I’m sending back my love and hugs, thank you so much for being here for me. Even as a faceless anon, I still considering you rather close to me now, purely because of how sweet you are to me. Thank you (again) I’m so happy my works make you smile, and I hope to continue to make you smile while you’re here

Buona notte, fragola amica.

ti voglio bene <3

#bun speaks #🍓 anon

[mercy-burning]

To Be Near

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Spencer and Reader’s first night together since he got out of prison.

Category: FLUFF/SMUT (18+), and a ‘lil bit of angst in there too (it’s mostly just kinda sad tbh)

Warnings: Mild language, Smut (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk)

Word Count: 4.9k

Full Requests:

+ “...ahhh okay what about like a fluff&smut about seeing spencer after he got out of prison? like he’s all soft and “i wanna make love to you” ???” — @shatteredlovesick 

+ “...First, congratulations on 1k! absolutely loved you “I’ve Got You” fic and was wondering if you could make something similar that has fluffy smut.” — @onesstop 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Usually you loved the cold. Feeling the cool breeze on your face and cuddling up with blankets and cardigans and sweaters was just about the most comforting feeling in the world.

But no amount of blankets and cardigans and sweaters could have shaken the devastating chill that settled in your bones when Spencer was gone. And wearing his clothes only strengthened the loneliness that plagued you. It was a blaring reminder that he was spending his days actually behind bars and not with you, cuddled on the couch like you'd done a million times over. Like he should have been.

Sure enough, about a week went by and you barely saw him. The first time you'd seen him since he was released from prison was brief, right before he had to go back to work to get his mom back and safe to him. You held him close, breathing in as much of him as you could before he would be ripped away from you again, making sure he knew just how much you loved him and cared for him.

And what added salt to injury was the fact that even after he was released, he was incredibly busy. It seemed like bad thing after bad thing just kept happening, like a domino effect of evil that left you feeling colder. Because now you were plain scared. And alone.

Penelope was kind enough to text you with updates, and even though Spencer might have been physically okay, you knew that all of this stress and constant danger was probably eating away at him from the inside.

Eventually he'd called to let you know that everything was okay again, he and his mom on their way to a motel to recuperate in for a little while. Hearing his weary voice, broken and completely drenched in exhaustion was the only thing that kept you from begging him to come home to you— As much as you desperately needed him, wanted to comfort him, you knew that he needed time alone with his mom. So yet again, you'd told him how much you loved him and held on to the way he said it back, his soft voice humming low in your heart long after he hung up.

He texted you occasionally, little updates to let you know he was okay. And he rarely ever texted at all. Whenever he did it made your heart sing, seeing his naively adorable attempts at using emoticons coupled together with declarations of love or sometimes even stupid little jokes designed to put a smile on your face. You liked to imagine he sent them so he could picture your laugh in his mind, ringing out softly and sweetly as he read back your usual Lol, I love you, silly goose, or something along those lines.

When you finally did see him face-to-face again, it was days later. He briefly mentioned over text that his team was in trouble, but that it would be taken care of and that his mom was safe somewhere. Again your stomach twisted with nerves, hoping and praying that he would come back to you safely. It was always a possibility with his job that something bad would happen, as you've unfortunately witnessed a few times over, but the so-called comfort in knowing that truth didn't help ease your anxieties at all. Maybe they had once upon a time, but after the last few months, and even the last few days, you weren't sure you'd ever know true comfort until Spencer was safely in your arms for eternity.

He'd texted to say he was on his way over in the early morning, and your heart skipped several beats. And in attempt to make yourself look less disheveled and sleep-deprived, you put on a clean pair of clothes—sweats and a tank top with one of Spencer's cardigans—and brushed your hair. To make it all feel a little more real, you splashed cool water on your face and rubbed at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit.

You were patiently sitting on the couch, two warm cups of tea laid out in front of you on the low table when there was a knock on your door, followed by a soft, "It's me," ad you were to the door in an instant.

As always, the sight of him drove you half wild. He looked exhausted, his hair particularly messy and his clothing hung loosely around him. His eyes softened when he saw you, like he was finally in the one place he truly wanted to be, like he was home, and the sight of his bottom lip wobbling every so slightly was enough to have you pull him inside by the shirt and into your arms.

The bag slung over his shoulder dropped with a heavy thud to the ground, and both of his arms snuck to the back of your waist as you leaned up on your tip-toes and squeezed yourself into his body. Your arms clung to his neck, and the big sigh of relief that you felt leave his body utterly wrecked you.

The door to your apartment remained wide open as you stood there in the doorway and hugged each other, silently reuniting in a way that conveyed exhaustion and relief and comfort. There was a tinge of sadness there, too, and you knew it most likely stemmed from the self-deprecation you'd come to know Spencer was prone to. After all he'd been through in the past few months, you knew in your gut that feeling would most likely be very strong in his heart.

So you did your best to quell it, shoving your face further into his neck and running your hands through his hair as he squeezed you tight. Your heart pulled apart at the seams at the way he shook against you, low, shaky breaths that you knew to be cries expelling from his system at last. Deep down it was obvious that he hadn't taken the time to let it all out... Now that he was there with you, safe and out of harm's way, he had the freedom to let go in any way he chose, any way that would be easiest without any judgement or shame.

With you, Spencer was well and truly safe.

"I've got you," you breathed into his neck, your fingers gently massaging the back of his head. "I love you.

He tried to say it back, but when his throat willed to finally make a sound, all that came out was a choked sob.

You held him tighter and let him cry against you, his body going half-limp in your arms.

***

By the time Spencer had finished crying enough for you to move inside, drink your tea in silence, take a well-needed and soothing shower together, and get into bed, it was only noon. He was snuggled into your side, his head resting on your chest as you combed through his damp curls with your fingers. His own fingers drew mindless patterns over the expanse of your stomach, his whole hand shoved up under your shirt and basking in the warmth you provided.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting kinda hungry," you mumbled loud enough for him to hear. You'd been in silence for so long now, it almost felt too loud, even though you barely used your voice at all.

"I'd ask you to make your mac and cheese, but I don't want to leave the bed... I don't want to leave you."

You laughed a little, his head slightly bobbing at the motion. "I can order some Thai if you want. It won't be here for another half hour maybe, and we can stay in bed a little while longer."

"Okay."

You reached over to your bedside table, grabbing your phone and placing an order for delivery from your favorite Thai place. Just the thought of the food, saying the words out loud and feeling Spencer mutter soft Mmms into your skin at the thought of food made your stomach growl. You honestly weren't sure how long it'd been since you ate anything substantial, and Spencer was probably in the same boat.

Just as you promised, the both of you laid in bed for around thirty-five minutes before the food got there. He grumbled as you got up to answer the door, but you promised him you wouldn't be long and that after eating, you could stay in bed as long as you wanted to.

And that's what you did. You tried your hardest not to scarf everything down, not truly realizing just how hungry you were until the food was right in front of you, smelling as delicious as ever and ready to be consumed.

Spencer sat across from you at the table, though it was obvious in the way he kept looking up at you that all he wanted was to be touching you, to be enveloped in your warmth again. Your heart ached for him as you set your fork down and scooped more of the food onto it. Hoping to somewhat satiate his need to be near you, you reached your leg out under the table, dragging your bare foot over his calf. He smiled softly at you, his entire body seeming to relax again at your touch.

For the next ten minutes you ate in comfortable silence, your foot gently sliding up ad down his lower leg.

And when you were both finally done, he clung to you as you navigated the kitchen, throwing out garbage, putting dishes in the sink, and boxing up leftovers. His arms wrapped around your stomach as he stood behind you, his head resting on your shoulder and his hair tickling your cheek.

At one point you brought one of your hands up to brush his cheek, and your head careened to the side to give him a small kiss on the corner of the mouth. His hands slipped under your shirt then, fingers spreading and engulfing the surface area of your lower stomach. Their gentleness and warmth made you sigh as you slumped back against him, using your hand to cup his cheek as best as you could.

"I missed you so much, baby," you whispered, your thumb lightly stroking his bottom lip. Your wrist was cramping a little from the angle, but you didn't care.

Spencer leaned into your palm and kissed it gently, mumbling, "I missed you, too, sweetheart."

The relief and comfort that seeped out of his words made your heart swell, so much so that you couldn't stand it any longer. You turned around and hugged him again, your arms wrapping around his neck as his pressed firmly to your lower back. You squeezed him tight, peppering tiny kisses along his neck and shoulder blade. Eventually your kisses shifted along his jaw, then his cheek, and then you pressed the gentlest of kisses to his lips before moving to the other side and continuing your adventure along the other side of his neck.

He always loved when you kissed him like that, softly praising every inch of his skin through gentle lips and whispered I love yous in between.

You pulled back for a moment, smiling softly at him as your fingers interlocked behind his head, just at the nape of his neck.

"I... I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said with a slight crack in his voice. "I constantly put you through danger and worry, a—and somehow you still... still manage to make me feel like I deserve your love."

Your throat tightened, threatening to spill choked sobs. But you swallowed and pushed through, one of your hands sliding down over his neck and up to his cheek again. "Spencer, ever since I met you, all you've done is shower me with unconditional love and understanding. You... You teach me new things and you have this natural habit of making me feel like the only woman in the world. Every day, you show me how much you care about other people, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters. It's... The bad days are hard, sure, but when I see your face for the first time in days, sometimes weeks? God... Spencer, there's nothing that compares to that feeling."

You were teary-eyed now, and Spencer was full-on silently crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, and you wiped them all away as you spoke to him.

"So yes, of course you deserve my love... You deserve every ounce of love the world has to offer."

You leaned up and kissed him then, tasting the faint saltiness of tears combined with the food you'd just eaten. If it meant seeing him smile, making him feel comfort and love, you would have kissed away all his tears.

And you were going to, moving to pepper more kisses along his cheeks where the water had fallen, but he brought his hands to your face and kissed you deeper, his body sinking into yours and daring you to never leave him.

You wouldn't, as long as you lived.

You stood higher on your tip-toes and clung to his neck as he kissed you, lips sliding over yours perfectly. And though everything about the way he kissed you was a declaration of love and gratitude for your affections and undying support, you'd have be lying if you said your belly didn't pool with a low-burning heat, reminiscent of a pot of boiling water. His hands on your face, the way his thumbs brushed over your cheek and his tongue barely probed your lips open, all of it was more than enough to make you dizzy.

Eventually he moved to kiss your jaw, goosebumps forming over your skin as he whispered against you. "I love you so much, Y/N..." His lips pressed to your neck. "So..." Your jawline. "...damn..." Under your ear. "...much..."

You couldn't help the choked whimper that fell from your lips as he gently nibbled on your earlobe, right before he spoke again. His hands slid down over your arms and interlocked themselves with yours, his breath hot next to your ear. "Let me show you... Please..." He started kissing your neck again, just as one of his hands migrated to the hem of your shirt, slipping under the fabric and tracing featherlight lines into your side. You whined again as he mumbled against your neck.

"Let me make love to you..."

Those six simple words were more than enough to push you off the edge, unable to take any more of this low-boiling heat in your stomach. You hummed low in your throat as your hands grabbed his wrists and placed them at your hips, daring them to firmly grip you— And they did. Spencer's lips dragged up your neck before finding your lips once more, and the whine that escaped you was nothing if not desperate.

He continued kissing you all the way back to your bedroom. Once your legs it the end of the bed, you buckled and sat down, too weak in the knees to stay upright any longer. He wasn't rough with you in the slightest, his lips still passionate but oh so slow and intoxicating, like sweet, thick honey. That alone made your limbs weak and your heartbeat as quick and loud as a drum roll. His hands roamed carefully over your body, up and under your shirt, over your arms, every so lightly between your thighs as he slipped between them to lay you down.

And once you were leaned all the way back, he brought his hands to your face, caressing your cheek the same way you'd caressed his.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes with his, their golden color almost completely swallowed by his pupils. His breath fanned gently over your mouth, and you smiled, resting one of your hands atop his on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him near and hoping you could stay with him forever.

"I love you," you whispered.

He leaned down and kissed you again, mumbling, "I love you," into your mouth as he did so. His lips migrated down your skin again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses all over. "I missed you... Missed your warmth..."

He shifted down your body then, his kisses starting up again at your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. When his tongue licked a thin stripe across your lower stomach, you whimpered and trembled underneath him, feeling wetness already dampening your panties. He laughed against your skin, pressing another kiss to your stomach. "Missed all your little whimpers..." He slid downwards, trailing his fingers along the waistband of your pants before slowly tugging them down, his lips following the trail through each new centimeter of exposed skin. "...and how squirmy you get when I touch you like this..."

Your pants were off quicker than you thought, but he left your underwear on as he kissed up your legs, starting at your ankle and slowly making his way up to your thighs. Your hands fisted the sheets when his breath blew out over the crease of your thigh, eliciting another desperate whine from your throat. And though it was hard to hear over the blood rushing in your ears, thrumming nearly as loudly as your heart, you were still able to hear Spencer's low laugh at your reaction, a sound that made you even wetter.

"I missed teasing you like this," he continued, running his middle finger over your opening through the thin panties you had on. You squirmed again, hips jolting at his touch— a touch you hadn't felt in months. You were utterly wrecked, and he barely even did anything to you, a fact he picked up on pretty quickly.

"You missed it, too, haven't you, sweetheart? Hmm?" His finger pressed harder into you, no doubt feeling how wet, how warm and ready for him you were. "My poor, pretty girl, haven't been touched in months. It must have been so lonely..." Though his words were teasing, a means to get you hot and bothered, there was also an underlying tone of truth to them— of this aching pity and sadness and regret... His words were apologetic as much as they were teasing, and everything all at once was making you ache for him more.

"Y—Yes, baby," you choked out as best as you could, opening your eyes to see how thoroughly wrecked he was. "Fuck, I missed you so much... No... No one touches me li—ike you do."

"I'm so sorry for leaving you all alone, baby," he whispers, kissing your thighs once more before moving to where you were already craving his full attention. "Let me make it up to you..."

He replaced his finger with his tongue, warm and wet as it firmly pressed over your clothed cunt. A loud sigh escaped you as he kept it pressed there, ever so slightly curling the tip of it to reach further inside you. He pulled back after a few moments, pressing kiss after kiss all around the seams of your underwear until he reached your center again. He tugged the fabric down until it was off, kissing up your leg again.

"I can't wait to get reacquainted..." His lips moved softly against the skin on your inner thighs, moving closer to where you ached for him with every passing second. And then his face was right there, millimeters away from it when he spoke, his lips ever so lightly dancing over the slick flesh. "...with this pretty little pussy."

When his tongue darted out, you shattered beneath him immediately. It was only the tiniest of touches, the very tip of his tongue coming in contact just below your clit, and still it was enough to ruin you. Among the many lonely nights you'd had over the course of the last few months, you were met with dreams of this exact moment, Spencer's head between your legs as he unraveled you, and it always left you feeling even more lonely when you woke up.

But this was no dream. He was really there, in front of you, making up for lost time. And that's what made you lose control.

He kitten-licked your clit through your first orgasm of the night, and as you came down, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at how quickly it took for you to fall apart.

"Oh, sweetheart... That was so damn beautiful." He brought his tongue out to lick through your folds again, humming lowly in he back of his throat. You watched him intently, trying not to shake, and noticed his eyes roll into the back of his head with a flutter as he delved further into you. The sight, accompanied by his tongue now plunging itself into you, made you cry out, your head hitting the bed and your hands clenching the sheets even harder.

He reacquainted himself with your pussy just fine, spending almost an hour alone exploring every way to make you come as if he'd never done it before. Each time you came down, he'd pull away and start off slow again, gently probing his fingers inside of you while his tongue massaged your clit every which way. It was like pure velvet, each stroke of his tongue and each curl of his fingers inside of you causing you to crash and burn over and over again. In between your high-pitched moans and cries, Spencer would occasionally mumble words of praise against your skin, a particular favorite of yours being the, "Perfect fucking cunt, princess..." right before gently sucking at your clit.

By the time he was finished, your three slow-building orgasms and the one quick one under his belt, his hair was absolutely wild as he looked up at you. He moved up your body, the wetness on his face glistening in the sunlight that poured through the bedroom window, and the hungry look in his eyes dissolved into absolute adoration and wonder as he took in your appearance.

Your mouth was partway open, your middle finger tucked between your teeth as you recovered from your highs. Sweat glittered over your brow and your chest heaved deeply, a smile forming on your lips when he bit his bottom lip and studied you.

"You sure you're okay to keep going?" he asked you gently, using a thumb to brush over your cheek.

The deep rasp in his voice after having been... occupied for the past hour sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. So you nodded, removing your finger from your mouth and bringing his face down to meet yours in a deep, loving kiss that had you both weak in the knees.

You slid up to the head of the bed, your legs resting wide open as Spencer removed himself of his clothes. You rid your shirt as well, the two of you never losing eye contact as you bared yourselves to each other for the first time in months. The air between you two was utterly electric, all this time apart coming to an end at last. Your bodies practically buzzed with the nearness, your veins going numb each time he brushed up against you as he settled out of his clothes and in between your legs.

When he leaned forward, the head of his cock gliding up through your folds to ready himself, you sighed out, reaching up to grab his face with both of your hands. Your fingers gently brushed away stray strands of hair from his eyes, and you smiled, hoping to convey to him just how much you truly loved him. Sure enough, his eyes softened once again under your gaze, and mostly, almost entirely gone was the insecurity and sorrow that had plagued them.

"I love you, Spencer," you told him, bringing his face down so your noses were touching. You brushed your nose against his and then pressed a gentle kiss to it, right as he started to push into you. You captured each others' shaky, relieved sighs as he bottomed out, holding himself deep inside you and pulling your legs up to wrap around his arms. Your tongue licked up into his mouth as you whined, already so relieved to have him in your arms (and quite frankly your pussy) once again.

He started to move ever so slowly, never fully retreating all the way before pressing his hips back into yours, and the groan that left his throat as he felt you clamping around him wrecked you all all over again. "So tight and warm," he mused softly against your lips, accepting and returning every kiss you gave him as he continued a slow, searing pace inside of you. "I've missed you so much, pretty girl... Dreamt... about you almost every night..."

"Me, too," you admitted, softly moaning out at the burning between your legs. "Missed... feeling you inside me. You always... Ohhh... always f—fill me up so g—good." Pressure was already building between your hips again, threatening to pop like a balloon at any given moment. But you wanted to hold on, to revel in this moment as long as you could.

Your hands grazed over his shoulders, lightly digging your nails into the skin as he drove into you a little harder. His pace was still tantalizingly slow, though the force with which he showed you how much he loved you, accented with a sharp, loud slap of skin each time, more than made up for it.

It didn't help that you could hear how wet you were with each movement, how aroused he made you and how loved he made you feel. It was something he obviously knew, but being able to hear it, every wet and delicious sound that came from your body as he made love to you like that, praised him better than any words could possibly dream.

Still, he asked you anyway, a means of dirty talk if nothing else. "You hear that, princess? You hear how good I make you feel?"

You buried your face into his neck, incoherently moaning and grumbling out curses as he shifted his hips and angled himself deeper inside you. Your legs were burning from being bent and wrapped around his arms, but somehow that burn only added to the pressure building in your belly. You couldn't help clenching around him, an action which made him groan into your neck.

"Go ahead and come for me, pretty girl," he stuttered out. "I... I know you have to. Let go for me... Give me all you got..."

His words, strained and raspy, coupled with hot kisses to your neck certainly helped you get there, but you wanted more. "But I want you to come with me," you whimpered out, clutching onto his shoulders. "I wanna... be... together again."

To help him out, you clenched around him over and over, giving him a tighter space to work with, and a guttural groan escaped him as his hips started to stutter. "Together..." is all he could coherently get out.

As soon as the word left his lips, you both shattered, trembling and sparking to life with pleasure. He spilled over inside of you, white hot and thick. It was a feeling you missed dearly, the dreams of it never able to fully satiate your need for him. In turn your walls fluttered around him and you whined into his shoulder, bringing your hands up to grip his hair as his cock twitched inside of you and gave you everything he had to offer. You clung to the feeling as long as you could, rolling your hips up to keep it all in and ride out your high to the fullest extent.

In fact, you were pretty sure that even by the end, when he'd slumped over on top of you and loosened your legs, you were still orgasming, a low burn settling in your stomach as you kept clenching around him, almost like you were trying to drink him up into you like a milkshake through straw.

"B—Baby, I'm gonna... come again if you keep that up," Spencer stuttered, his hands combing through your hair now as his lips pressed into your neck.

You only hummed in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and hooking your ankles over his ass. You kept contracting slowly around him, rolling your hips upwards, even as his warm cum started to spill out of you. Soon enough, he was doing it again, filling you up with warmth and love, his mouth open and hot on the skin of your neck as he did so, muttering your name over and over.

Eventually you loosened your hold on him, every muscle in your body relaxing and falling to the bed with a low tingle of numbness. With Spencer kissing softly over your neck and up to your mouth, you were the most content you'd been in months.

You must have stayed in bed for hours, even though he tried to tell you that you should probably clean up. You only grumbled in response, holding him tighter to you and burying your face into his neck. Still, he laid there, rubbing your head and clinging to you anyways, finally glad to be home.

And even though you were technically home, it never really felt that way when he was gone— To be home was to be near him. And you never wanted to leave his side again, even though realistically you knew you'd need to be separated eventually.

But for now, you could be near him like he was never going to leave, reveling in the warmth and comfort that his arms provided.

And with you he could do the same.

***

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#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

[cinnamonest]

please spare more crumbs for the sex slave au with diluc and kaeya's meimei,,

Thank you for giving me permission to be more depraved this is from forever ago but I'm slowly getting the "forever ago" stuff done lol

I love the concept tho, especially Crepus buying a lil qt and having to teach them how to be good masters bc they’re both dumb clueless boys, bless.

TWs: slavery, implied incest or pseudo-incest, could give vibes as under//age (nothing is specified but I guess it could strike some people that way so I wanna be cautious), noncon/dubcon, mentions of anal, misogynistic, awful depraved and nasty -------------------------------------

God. The arguing. The rivalry. The chaos. Like, with some poly yanderes/owner/master relationships, the two work *together* and focus attention on controlling *you,* but these two are... not like that. They have a lot of rivalry going on half the time.

Now, this could be Crepus buying a slave and basically indoctrinating her as a meimei, but of course, if you actually are one of the boys' bio sis, the one is gonna claim some authenticity - you know, the whole "well she's my real sister, not yours, so I get to fuck her more" kind of thing. The other appeals to "well she's your real sister which makes you worse," and it devolves into arguing back and forth about whether or not the blood relation makes them more or less justified in sticking their dick in you and claiming more rights to meimei's time and attention. Not just to each other either, it's also directed at you -- the whole "hey, I'm your real big brother, so you should spend more time with me than him" kind of thing. It actually can get pretty annoying over time, you have to constantly be soothing not one but TWO egos in desperate need of affirmation. But here I’m going more with the idea of Crepus just buying them a sweet meimei. Diluc's more... patient. He teaches you "touch commands" -- little learned gestures, like a dog. Just the lightest touch on your spine and you know it's a clear message to arch your back, a hand under your chin and thumb pressed against it has you instinctively opening your mouth, a tap to the back of your neck and you kneel. Little gestures that can bend your body and mind with minimal effort. Despite that though, Kaeya is actually the master of The Look™ - the kind that can make you go quiet and apologize in a mere instant when given. But because you know it, expect him to be even harsher if you defy it. Sometimes in your little tantrums you get so mad that you'll have the audacity to ignore that look and keep whining or being a brat which does not end well.

Meimei is what you call free use - any time, anywhere. One of the most important lessons Crepus told you when he first got you/when you were old enough is that you are never to deny the boys any of your holes if they want it. This is just as important for the boys to learn as it is you, he's a big believer in the whole, "if you act like a good proper master, the slave will naturally fall into their role too" sort of thing, so he teaches them to be forceful and dominating, not hesitant to do what they want -- if they're clear on what they want and make known their expectation of your obedience (and the subtle implication of threat of punishments if not complied with), you'll fall into the submissive role you're meant for and naturally want to submit to them like a good little wife-sister-slave.

So, whenever one of them beckons you over, you smile and ask them how you can help. Your brothers work so hard, and it's the least you can do to take care of their needs. Sometimes they just want you to sit on their lap, wrap your arms around them, sit there a while in silence when they're sad, sometimes they want to vent to you about things when they're frustrated, sometimes they want to use you. Of course, the former two usually leads to the last anyway. You're... emotional support pussy. There's important rules and practices to be followed, it's actually rules for all three of you, several apply to them, actually, as Crepus taught you before he died, and it's become second nature for the boys (it works in their benefit, after all). #1. You can never be left alone. There's a lot of reasons for this, but primarily it's in your instinct to get fucked, all you know how to do is take cock, so if you were left alone you may very well go running off and jump onto the first thing with a dick, and they can't have that. So basically you either have to be with one of them, within their sight, or accounted for in some way - there's a couple of installed tethering hooks and the like on the walls  in several areas of the house you can be attached to. But, really, they're not usually necessary, with two very horny males running around you're busy most of the time, even if it's a more passive task. You spend a lot of time sitting on someone's lap, sometimes taking naps throughout the day with whoever decides they're tired at the moment. So, you spend more or less every waking moment with one or both -- well, every sleeping moment too, of course you don't have you own room. You alternate nights between the two just like you were told to. There's not really any task you do alone. Bathing? It's always gotta be with one or the other. Sleeping? Always with one or the other. Even when you're cooking -- because obviously you do that, they wouldn't even know how to, since you've always done it -- one is always standing beside you, talking to you, or sitting a ways over in a chair as they vent about their day. Oh, speaking of that, as aforementioned, you're there for emotional burdens too. When one has had a long day, what would they do if meimei wasn't there for them to vent and whine and complain to? You've always been taught to be a good listener. Don't interrupt. Listen to everything and don't zone out. Don't oppose their actions when they're telling you about their problems, always tell them they were in the right and comfort them. Smile while you listen. That's how you were trained to respond when one of them has some burden to unload on you. Always offer your body to make them happy. That's the last part, and they've never not taken you up on the offer. That being said, sometimes you have to... motivate them. Push a little bit. You see, you're just so sweet that sometimes your brothers might want to just spend the entire day in bed with you. So you have to motivate them to do their actual work. Tell them that if they don't go to work, if they stay in bed all day inside you, how are you supposed to clean the house and make dinner for them? So they sigh and accept you're right and go off to work after all. And, again, the rule is important for them too. You can never run off on your own, but they're also vigilant not to ever leave you alone. When you're first bought, Crepus had to constantly pull them back inside the house when they'd go to another room for something because see, you're leaving her all alone and she's going to go running off and it'll be your fault. So they had to be conditioned to communicate and make sure you were always accounted for, taught how to restrain you properly. If you were left in a room, Crepus would come by to make sure they remembered to lock you inside, would test the tightness of your leash if you were tethered to something, and sigh and chastise if one of them neglected to do it right. #2. No getting off on your own, this is a rule they have to help enforce. It's a waste - you have TWO big brothers, surely one of them is always going to be available and eager, so really, getting yours without either of them involved is pretty selfish, and worthy of punishment if found doing so. If for whatever reason they're all too busy, you have the option of asking permission to ride and grind on their thigh, but no cumming until they're done with their task and are available to properly handle it. Crepus is particularly adamant about this rule, as well as enforcing the same mentality in them, doesn't think it's appropriate for a girl to be so selfishly absorbed with pleasure when she should  be giving it to the men that own her. For one, a girl should be spending all of her time dedicated to serving her masters in some way, and two, they're both needy boys that would be eager to fuck you at any time. So really, masturbating is an act of defiance and will be dealt with as such. #3. No favoritism! There will be times where you may feel mad at one or the other, and sure you have different levels of how much you can tolerate certain behaviors... But, you have to train yourself against that. Meimei should have no limits of what she can tolerate - that's part of your whole purpose. So even when you're mad at one, you can't try to avoid that one and go to the other, you still need to divide your time, energy, and body equally. Don't talk bad about one to the other, don't try to spend more time with one or the other at any time. This also includes pitting them against each other through jealousy, it's a huge no-no. Don't try to make one jealous of the other. If they catch you doing that, sooner or later they'll realize what you're doing, and deal with it, usually harshly, since it's seen as a high-ranking offense. In fact, you really shouldn't be mad, ever. Your big brothers know what's best for you, so if you're mad over a disagreement, you just need to accept that they're right and you're wrong and that you need to submit to their will. Outwardly showing you're upset is bratty behavior, things like pouting or giving them the cold shoulder are punishable offenses. #4. You're also a peacekeeper. Diffuse fights. Both of your big brothers can be... stubborn, prideful individuals. This leads to pretty regular conflict over this and that. It's meimei's job to help with that, calm them down with a smile on your face. Or, if it works better, with some tears and a quivering lip. Please don't fight, you say with watery eyes, sniffling, and well, they can't help but feel bad, they both turn their attention to you rather than to each other and apologize for making you upset.  And if they're having one if their regular it's my turn kind of arguments, your job is to propose the easy solution of sharing. You have more than one hole to fuck, and can easily cuddle one on each side. It should be an obvious solution. Oh, and they fight sometimes over who gets to do what, who spends time with you, but doing different things rather than both wanting to do the same thing. One is sitting at his desk to work and he can't be expected to focus on work without meimei sitting on his lap and cockwarming him of course, but the other says he wants to take a nap and how is he supposed to sleep if he can't rest his head on meimei's tits? There is only so much of her to go around! But they will legit adjust their schedules to make sure they get alone time. And are very nitpicky about it -- wait why do *you* get an extra hour on Tuesday?? If you get that I deserve an extra hour on Thursday -- that sort of thing. You're supposed to be able to propose such ideas. It's your job to come up with solutions that make everyone happy. You can cockwarm one brother while he works and tell the other that hey, if he postpones the nap, you can just ride him until he cums and can sleep right? Things like that. #5 Actually isn't for you, it's for them, regarding punishment. When Crepus got you, the poor boys didn't really know how to go about doing it, so they had to be taught. It's important to be a good master and know how to do so adequately, you know? To not let anger get the better of them and go too far, since sometimes they might get too mad about something. In fact, a good trick, he teaches them, is to just tie you up, and go blow off some steam before coming back to punish you. That way they won't go too far, and you'll have to wait around in fear for a while, which just helps the punishment sink in better. But at the same time, don't go too light. No matter how much you whimper, he says, don't feel pity for her and go lax. It's intentional, it's just your nature to try and fake-cry to try and get out of it. You did something bad, so they shouldn't feel bad about it, even if you cry and squeal. It's the right thing to do. You're supposed to cry, you're supposed to say it hurts and whimper, that just means they're doing it right. But of course, there's some sensitivities to be taught. If they have you bent over a knee, they have to make sure to only hit your ass and the back of your thighs, make sure not to go up too high and hit your back, since that could cause injury. If they're gonna fuck your ass as punishment, make sure to use a certain amount of lube. Things like that, it's important to be good masters, just as much as it is your job to be a good little slave.

And to remember, of course, that meimei is... an inferior little creature. Don't get mad at her just because she's stupid and doesn't understand this or that, that's not her fault. She can't be expected to be smart or responsible, that's their job. But also, don't feel pressured to give her what she wants just because she wants it or anything. And, most importantly, don't start having self-doubt and ever think she might be right about something while they're wrong, because obviously that can't be the case. You might get defiant and try to insist you know better than them, act like you're just as capable of something as they are, or think your opinions matter or something, but in that case, they have a responsibility to remind you of your place.

#tw: incest #tw: misogyny #lena's asks #atml #.meimei

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror pt2 | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

SUMMARY: part two of girl in the mirror. draco meets his soulmate for the first time. she’s pretty cool for a muggle, but reveals something that has him heading back to hogwarts a little less than happy. 

WARNINGS: none i think?  

A/N: i dont think americans have houses and i assume most of my readers are american,, so in case its confusing obviously theyre like harry potter houses, but jk rowling made it ten times more dramatic and a main part of her story. we dont really care about houses irl. 

Explaining to you that Draco was a wizard was one of the most frustrating and hardest things the blond boy had ever had to do. Only hours later were you starting to reluctantly believe that he was telling the truth. He’d been reluctant to tell you, but since you were his soulmate, you were allowed to know. You had the right. 

The pair of you hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by, sat on your bed as you stare at him unsurely. 

“You look as though you still don’t believe me,” Draco says. “I’ve shown you my wand.”

“Yes, but you’ve not shown me any real magic, have you?” You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest. 

“I told you, I have to wait a few months ‘till I’m seventeen,” Draco reminds you with a roll of the eyes. “Then I’ll show you something.”

You sigh, not wanting to believe him but having a funny feeling that he was telling the truth. I mean, how else could you explain the fact that he had literally fallen through your mirror? 

“So... We’re soulmates,” you repeat from earlier, before the two of you had fought over whether or not Draco was really a wizard. 

“Yeah,” Draco whispers with a nod. “You know what that is, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, hugging your arms closer to yourself. “But why is your soulmate not... magic as well?”

Draco shrugs. “Happens sometimes,” he says. “Never ever to a Malfoy...” He looks a little paler as he says so. “But I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

You wonder why it’s a big deal for a member of his family to be put with ‘a Muggle’ as he had called you before. 

“Enough about me,” Draco claps his hands together when he sees the clogs in your brain turning. “Let me find out about you. Please. I’ve been wondering about you since the day I turned thirteen.”

“There’s not much to say,” you sigh. “I guess I just go to school... come home... homework... maybe hang out with friends sometimes.” 

Draco seems interested despite your negative mood, sitting up straighter with an eager look behind his silver eyes and an encouraging small smile on his face.

 He looks odd sat on your bed. He truly does look like some sort of magical being with his pale features and icy hair, and the black suit and turtleneck and polished shoes make him look like he belongs truly where he says he’s from-- a castle or something. Not your bedroom that screams twenty-first century teenage girl.  

“Well, tell me about school,” Draco suggests, glancing you over. “Your tie is red. Is that your house?”

You glance down with a frown, pulling at your tie. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m in Austen. The yellow house.”

Draco frowns. “Is that good or bad?”

You frown back, raising a brow at him. “I mean... we won the most house points last year? Not really a big deal. Oh, and we won house games, like, two years in a row.”

“Not a big deal?” Draco scoffs. “Well done, Y/N! That is a great deal.”

You stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “Thanks? I’m assuming houses are a big deal at your school?”

“Well, of course,” he says rather arrogantly. “I’m a Slytherin. How were you sorted into your house? Do you take personality quizzes in the Muggle world?”

“No,” you giggle slightly and Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “You just get put into whatever house depending on what tutor group you’re in. I switched from green to yellow half way through secondary school because our tutor group got full.”

Draco had never looked so confused. He wonders how Muggles are even motivated to do well when their house points don’t even really mean anything to them. 

He knows a few things about Muggles-- he knows they definitely do not play Qudditch on flying brooms and would much rather play football. He guesses their house games are like that. 

“My tie’s red because I’m a prefect,” you say and reach into your bedside drawer, producing a red badge with ‘prefect’ written in gold on it. 

Draco’s grin brightens, taking it from you as he scans it over. “Oh, they look just like ours!”

You laugh at his eagerness. “That’s good.”

There’s a moment of silence and Draco peers at all of the records placed on your wall. He stands and moved to look at some of the vinyl covers, pointing at your The Neighbourhood one, releasing a huff of air past his nose and glancing over his shoulder back at you. 

“You listen to this one all the time,” Draco states. “I like the one about jumper weather or something.”

You laugh and nod. “Sweater Weather. It’s a good song...” You trail off. “You know, I don’t really understand your music. You only seem to listen to classical.” 

“That’s me,” Draco says, scratching the back of his neck. “Playing the piano. I don’t- I don’t really listen to music much. I never really have to when you listen to it 24/7 anyway.”

You look away with a small blush on your face, bashful. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Draco moves to sit beside you on your bed. “I love it, actually. It makes assemblies less boring and sleeping in a dorm far more bearable.” 

“I’m glad,” you say. “Do you want to listen to something now?”

Draco’s breath hitches because it’s all he’s ever wanted. He nods slowly, scared that you would laugh in his face and take your suggestion back. You grab your phone off of your bedside table and press shuffle on a playlist. Draco can’t believe how weird it is to hear your music playing but not have it muffled in his ears as if he was underwater. 

He watches with parted lips as you slide down so you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco looks at you like you put the stars and the moon in the sky. You might be just a Muggle, but you’re magic to him. The true definition of it. 

Slowly, unsure if he’s crossing a line or not, Draco slides down so he’s lying beside you on your bed, on his back like you. You both stare at your ceiling and he notices that you have constellations painted on it. He nearly melts when he sees ‘Draco’, one of the biggest ones. 

He slides his hand down the small gap in between you and hesitantly holds your hand before guiding it up above your heads. It’s not like real stargazing, but Draco likes it. Maybe one day he would be able to sneak you to the Astronomy Tower and show you the same sky he stares at most nights. 

“That’s Draco,” he says. 

You smile as you turn to face him and Draco shuffles to face you too, the only sounds being your small breaths and an Arctic Monkeys song playing behind you. 

“Maybe I always knew?” You suggest. 

“Maybe,” Draco chuckles back and turns to look up at the ceiling. 

You spend a few seconds admiring his side profile; his sharp jaw and the strength of his nose. It’s hard to be scared of the stranger when he’s so beautiful and feels so familiar. Like a puzzle piece you’d been looking for. 

“You’ve only been playing sad songs recently,” Draco says quietly after a little bit. “Is everything okay with you? I was worried... so I asked my friend to teach me how to do the mirror trick.”

You frown a little at the reminder and immediately grow embarrassed. You’re not sure if you should make up a lie or try to change the subject, but Draco seems really concerned and you’d feel awful lying. 

“My... Well, um, my boyfriend broke up with me,” you say awkwardly. 

You feel Draco stiffen beside you. He sits up after a few seconds. He knows it’s not really your fault but he can’t help feeling jealous and angry. He swallows as he stares at a spot on your carpet, unsure how to feel knowing that his soulmate had been with another person. 

He needed a moment to think. He didn’t want to scare you with his harsh words or looks.

“I should get back,” Draco mutters, trying to make his voice sound strong as he stands.

“Draco, I--”

“It’s nearly what? Four in the morning? I should of been going ages ago anyway,” he forces you a grim smile as he heads towards the mirror. “I’ll try and talk to you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You watch with a saddened expression as Draco slips his hand through the glass or your mirror and is suddenly gone. You push yourself up from the mattress and rush over, your fingertips brushing it but coming to a dead end. You blink back tears, wondering if you had just imagined the entire thing. 

You stare into the mirror, unaware that Draco is sadly staring back. 

...

i know it’s a lil dramatic but that’s draco for you and teen love in general tbh 

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #dracomalfoy #harry potter #harry potter imagine #imagine #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy soulmate au #harry potter au

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

#being serious for 5 seconds #RANTING RANTING RANTING #spicy spicy ghost pepper extract #mail

[werewolf-witchboy]

Tokoyami Fumikage X Male Reader

Being A Witch Boy And Dating Tokoyami

WARNINGS: none uwu

Being a witch has nothing to do with your quirk, you just like practicing the dark arts and witchy things.

I'm not going to mention what your quirk is, so you can imagine that you have whatever quirk you want, or you can imagine yourself as someone without a quirk.

💀 Tokoyami had been fascinated with your hobby of witchcraft ever since he met you. He was most fascinated with the fact that your actual quirk has nothing to do with how your witchcraft works.

🕯 He had already thought you were cute before, and he had been in that time of his life where he was starting to question his sexuality a little- but after you showed him your witchy interests, he fell hard for you.

💀 He may be a dark and edgy birb boi, but he's also quite shy and awkward. He probably would have never confronted you about his crush if you hadn't told him your feelings for him first.

🕯 When y'all started dating, literally everyone was like "FINALLY!!" cuz it was super obvious that the two of you were meant for each other.

💀 When it comes to what type of witch you are, i'd say you're a witch of all traits.

-You love dark and spooky things, but you also love pastel colors and nature.

-Your room in the class 1A dorm is most likely full of plants, candels, a variety of antiques and trinkets, and shit that you can't buy at stores until it's around Halloween time.

🕯 Tokoyami likes to ask many questions about all of the different types of things you do, and he actually pays attention and is super interested. You'll even teach him some new things, and show him how to do them himself.

💀 You love Dark Shadow as much as you love Tokoyami himself. Though they're both very different in personality, you find them both charming and adorable (despite them both saying they're not "adorable," they're dark and spoopy lmao).

🕯 He also loves your animal familiar.

-Your familiar rarely comes out of your bedroom. Since you're dating Tokoyami, you allow him in your room (which means a lot more than he probably thinks it does, cuz spaces where witches do their magic and recharging are very sacred to them) so he gets to see your familiar quite often.

💀 It's rare for familiars to show affection to anyone that isn't their bonded witch, but your familiar absolutely loves Tokoyami.

-They'll hop onto his lap immediately as soon as he sits down in your room.

🕯 Both you and Tokoyami thrive in the darkness, so there are often times where you both hang around in your dimly lit room cuddled up together just talking all day (or even sometimes laying there in comfortable silence).

-You'll be in there together for so long that all of your friends will start questioning where you're both at, and not even realize that you're just in your room.

💀 He obviously likes you a whole lot, but he's super bad at saying it with words. He's just shy and bashful. BUT THEN DARK SHADOW EXPOSES HIM LMAO-

-You'll be standing there looking super cute, and Tokoyami will just stare at you and want to say something so badly. Then Dark Shadow appears and is all like "wOw yOu'Re sUpEr hOt" and Tokoyami just dies right there in the very spot he's standing cuz he can't believe that just happened.

🕯 That's another thing- Tokoyami stares at you a LOT. He even did it before y'all started dating, but now he doesn't even try to hide it.

-You barely noticed at first, but once you started noticing how often you catch him staring at you, you can't help but tease him a little.

-You'll stare at him back, directly in the eyes, and he'll get super flustered and embarrassed.

-Then to calm him down and make him feel less embarrassed, you'll giggle at his flustered-ness and give him a lil beak kiss...which just makes him even more flustered.

💀 He's definitely the type who wants to be a total romantic, and speak all poem-like to you, and shower you with praises, ect. BUT he gets so flustered when it comes to affection, and second-guesses himself when it comes to his ideas of showing affection.

-He's scared of coming off too strong, or seeming to clingy, or even not doing enough, so he never really gets the chance to act out any of how he wants to show affection- and to top it all off he can't help but be absolutely smitten every time you give him affection of any sort, and he'll not know how to react to it.

🕯 You never call him out on his shyness or how he reacts to your affection, you're not offended with any way he reacts to you. You think it's super cute how innocent he seems when it comes to all of this, and of course you encourage any time he gets a little bit of confidence to hold your hand or compliment you (without the help of Dark Shadow lol).

💀 His feathers get all ruffled when he's flustered, and OMFG it's too cute. 🥺😭

🕯 Something that he loves so much is when you borrow his clothes. Because for him, it's kind of a way to show affection towards you without being super direct about it.

-So him being like "you're cold? here, wear my sweatshirt" translates to "TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME, KEEP IT FOREVER, I LOVE YOU FJSKDJFHR-"

💀 Don't come @ me- Tokoyami listens to death metal, but he'd totally vibe with something like kpop if you introduced him to it.

-He's definitely a Loona stan.

🕯 Highkey though, now that I think of it- he probably also listens to Joji and Billie Eilish.

-Like, really moody sad boi hours indie music.

-He'd have Will He playing in his headphones, and he'd be all edgy and in his feelings, but he'd also be doing something like baking cookies at the same time lmfao.

-He'd have a playlist named "songs to cry to," but he'd be listening to it while knitting sweaters for puppies or something.

💀 No, you didn't ask me what kind of music that I think Tokoyami listens to, but you got it anyway. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

🕯 If he's at a store, and sees something kinda spooky looking that makes him think of you, he'd quickly get it and think all day of giving it to you, and he'd want to watch you add it to your collection of lil trinkets and antiques.

-....But he'd chicken out so hard I stg.

-This poor baby would rehearse how he'd give it to you in his head over and over again, and then when the time comes to give it to you, he'd get suddenly so tongue-tied and worried if you'd actually like it or not.

-But, of course, you love whatever he gets you every time. Your always super surprised when he gets you something, cuz it's not your birthday or any special day, and you never expect gifts from people.

-Every time you accept a gift from him, you always want to squeal, tackle him, and shower him with kisses- but you resist doing so with all of your being, cuz you know he'd malfunction.

-Instead you very profoundly thank him many times, and give him one especially loving kiss.

-Seeing your extra surprised and happy reaction always relieves him so much, and it makes him want to do it all over again and gift you a whole shop full of trinkets. His lack of hundreds of dollars is the only thing that stops him.

💀 You're the type of person who wears a lot of black, and scatters bright colors here and there within your look. Your style ranges from goth to pastel e-boy.

🕯 You don't like to change other people's styles or tell other people what to wear, but every once in a while, Tokoyami expresses an interest in dressing like you- which you go NUTS over.

-You'll let him borrow your pastel sweaters, and he'll let you put bright colored hairclips in his feathers.

-He now even owns some pastel colored clothing of his own, that you either gifted him or he secretly bought himself at some point.

💀 He used to be shy about changing up his style every once in a while at first. Whenever you'd take pictures of him wearing bright clothes, he'd softly ask you not to show them to any of the others.

-Eventually he became confident enough to go out in public those rare days he'd wear bright colors, and everyone is always super supportive of the different style.

🕯 He had never been in a relationship with another guy before he started dating you.

-He started questioning his sexuality around the time he started high school, but it was never a priority at first because he was more focused on working hard to get into U.A. and thinking about his future being a hero.

-aNd tHeN hE mEt yOu, and now we're here lol.

-ANYWAYS, y'all go to pride parades together.

-Something he isn't shy about is his sexuality, cuz as soon as he realized how he felt about you, he was all in and that was that.

-Y'all go all out for parades with face and body paint, and shirts with your flags on them, and even sometimes bringing signs and flags to hold up and wave around.

-Some of your friends will come with the two of you, whether they're there because they're also lgbtq+ or just because they support it.

-It's the most social the two of you are the entire year, cuz your both introverted lil emos that don't really talk to many people outside of class 1A.

💀 So yeah- I think Tokoyami is highly underrated and I'm extremely soft for him. He's an emo birb boi, what is not to love.

-I believe in emo birb boi supremacy.

-Rise all Tokoyami stans, we shall take over the entire anime world someday.

#tokoyami #tokoyami fumigake #bnha #mha #boko no hero academia #my hero academia #x reader #male reader #x male reader #witch #witch boy #witch aesthetic #dark arts #witch reader #headcannon #imagine #oneshot #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami x male reader #fumikage #mlm #sfw

[meteor752]

Dsmp Hogwarts AU, except it’s all the characters and I go into why they are what they are, please reblog this took a long ass time

Man, what a title Huh? Anyways, this will obviously go over the characters and not the content creators, because in some cases those are vastly different

Also, before we start, I will go over an important thing that I will mention probably a few times, and that is the difference between Hufflepuff Loyalty and Slytherin Loyalty.

Both of these houses value loyalty, but in very different ways. Take for example that you’re a spy who has their best friend as their partner, and you’re out on some super important mission. Let’s also say that your partner got shot and is close to death, and the only way to save them would be to abandon the mission entirely.

A Hufflepuff would try to complete the mission because it would be the best for all, while the Slytherin would abandon the mission despite the fact that it could result in countless deaths, just to save their friend.

See it as Selfish Loyalty vs Selfless loyalty. Both are great things to have, but are still different.

Anyways, on with the show

Tomathy Danger Kraken Careful Innit

I have seen people try to argue that this boy is a Hufflepuff because of his loyalty and such, but gosh darnit everyone this child is a god damn Gryffindor. I mean, one of his main character traits is that he’s brash and too brave for his own good. The reason he got fucking exiled is because he burned down George’s house without thinking of the consequences, and then just screamed at Dream without thinking of the consequences. The same goes for Ghostbur’s “death”, it was because he had no real plan except Stab Dream with an axe. So yeah, Gryffindor

Wilbur Soot

Slytherin, 100%. This man has created one and a half nation, one entirely out of spite, he was both a general and a president, he’s a smart lil fella, and he managed to hold his own against the god of the server. I don’t even thing you guys wanna argue with me here

Tuberculosis Underscore

This one is tricky, because it’s really between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for me. Like, he does possess the Hufflepuff loyalty™ plus he is very kind, but he’s also one of the more logical and observant characters we have in this server (The bar is very low let me tell ya). But I think I will have to go with Ravenclaw, just because like, the boy invented nukes. He built fucking nukes. So yeah, a very chaotic Ravenclaw that will spout bee facts at you, be prepared

Technoblade

My man is a Ravenclaw, no doubt about it. I mean, he started talking about an old greek myth in the middle of a war? Just Ravenclaw things amiright?

Philza Minecraft

I will have to go with Slytherin on this one, simply because of the large amount of Slytherin Loyalty, but also because of his cunningness and resourcefulness, but for real this was very tricky, simply because I don’t like to think about c!Phil too much because as some of you may know, I kinda hate him (Not the cc though, obvs, he’s awesome)

Ranboo My Beloved

Hufflepuff. This boy’s ideology is literally “Choose people, not sides”, he’s an honest and compassionate boy who works hard, and has a very open mind. He’s literally the by the book Hufflepuff

Eret

Honestly, Slytherin. I mean, they are ambitious as fuck, both shown by them betraying L’Manburg for the throne, but also by working hard towards their redemption arc. They are also a good leader of the smp, and in general a great role model to have

Nikki Nihachu

This one is actually difficult, simply because Nikki has gone through quite the character arc the past couple of months. She started out kind, sweet and loyal, a classic Hufflepuff. Then she joined the syndicate and straight up tried to kill a child, which is less Hufflepuff but who am I to judge. But in her core, as seen through her discussion with Jack about Tommy’s revival, she is still a good person that works hard for what she believes in, wants the best for everyone (Despite sometimes working in her best self interest) remains kind through it all. So yeah, Nikki is a Hufflepuff, just a bit of a sadistic one. But we can’t all be perfect ya know?

Fun Jonathan Michael Vincent Georgina James Sus Dy Soot

Ah, my favorite character, and also one of the best examples of a Ravenclaw. And I ain’t saying that just cuz I’m a Ravenclaw, Fundy is one of the most Ravenclaw characters out there. He’s creative, Clever, Spontaneous, Witty, Curious, Sharp, and a real trickster. The idea of Ravenclaws being the goody two shoes kids that always does their school work is just false, we never do our Homework and instead sit and read about things we find interesting, and Fundy is a good example of that. Also he was quite the eager learner during the Dreamon Hunters arc, which again is a good example of a Ravenclaw. So if Ranboo is the by the book Hufflepuff, then Fundy is the by the book Ravenclaw.

Dreamwastaken

I’m pretty sure it’s confirmed that Dream is actually a Slytherin, and I ain’t arguing with that. This boy is cunning, sly, a leader, traditional, Self-Preserving, and a master with words. There is not much more to say here, apart from the fact that Slytherins main colour is literally green, so it all checks out, this boy is a snake.

George Lore

Mr not found over here really is hard to pinpoint down, simply because his main character trait is his apathy, which isn’t really a trait for any of the houses. I was discussing this one with my girlfriend, and both of us were pretty clueless of what to do with him. I was thinking if Hufflepuff since they take the ones that don’t fit anywhere else, but then I was reminded of the most recent Dream XD stream, which showed us one thing, and that is that George is clever, observant, and Sharp Minded, all the traits of a Ravenclaw. Sure, he could also be Slytherin as he was both cunning and sly as well, but I think Ravenclaw fits him more personally.

Sappitus Nappitus Boyhalo

Finally we have another Gryffindor, there’s been a serious lack of them on the list. My man is a fighter, he’s bold, he’s brave, he’s passionate, he’s confident, and he doesn’t really think that much of the consequences of his actions (Cough the pet war cough), so yeah this boy a lion.

Punz

Ah, Punzie, the mercenary themself. Tbh, I know very little about them because Punz don’t get involved that much in lore unless they are hired for something. I mean, they were in the eggpire, but even then they were barely involved, which is sad cuz I like Punz. But what we have seen of Punz is that they are someone who does not care about you or what you want, as long as you pay them. They are power hungry and self preserving, which means that I have to put them in Slytherin.

Jack Thunder1408 TV Manifold

The boy who I can’t help but be sympathetic towards. Jack is also a hard character to pin point because of the reason that he’s gone through quite the development. Jackie boy is a very broken character that has literally been through hell, so it’s hard to properly sort him. He’s quite confident and clever, yet cunning and resourceful, so for me it’s either Slytherin or Gryffindor. But I do lean towards Gryffindor more, partly because of his stubbornness and gullibility, and part because of all the fire imagery that’s associated with him. I mean, the cc described him as burning inside, he’s been through the scape of fire and death, and he burnt his nation to the ground. In case you didn’t know, Fire is the element of Gryffindor, so yeah, another red and gold boy.

JSchlatt

Schlatt is as both charming, charismatic and calm in the early days, using subtle manipulation tactics to get his way and achieve ultimate power. He’s ambitious, narcissistic, cunning, and tyrannical, while still hiding it all behind a facade of smiles and waves. He could also be both cruel and irresponsible at times, aka the time he had an underage child drink during an event, but ya know, mistakes. So all in all, I think it’s pretty clear that he’s a Snakey boy.

QuackityHQ

As much as I love CC!Quackity, I also fucking hate him because of the many, many different directions he’s taken this character which makes it possible for him to fit in literally any of the houses. The duckie is both Chaotic and lawful, he’s both friendly and hostile, he’s a smart cookie and a fucking dumbass, so like bruh. But, I’m gonna have to go with how he is now, which is manipulative, power hungry, cruel, and strong willed. Aka, another Slytherin.

Karl Jacobs

Finally, a character that is not broken down to the point of barely making out a readable personality. Karl is a kind and funny person, who is very open to new people considering how often he gives tours to visitors and new people, and he is quite literally loosing himself traveling through time in an attempt to help people. Hufflepuff

Awesamdude

This one I know will be controversial, but I’m saying Hufflepuff on him. Sam is one of the best cases of the Hufflepuff loyalty, literally letting both Tommy and Ghostbur be stuck and ultimately die in the prison just so he wouldn’t risk Dream breaking out. Before that point he was very kind and gentle towards Tommy, literally building a robot to keep him safe and take care of him. Sam nook is a reflection of Sam’s feelings towards Tommy, and they are kind and gentle.

Dropsbyponk

Ughhhh, another tough one. Ponk is a chaotic being who is mostly neutral in conflicts, but is shown to be very open about their feelings towards those they care about, like Sam or Foolish. They seem to be have strong feelings in what they believe in, and can be a bit brash sometimes, not really caring about the consequences of their actions, which is what makes me say Gryffindor for them.

Badboyhalo

Our favorite muffin demon. I assume, I don’t know what life you live. Anyways, Bad is like the stereotypical Hufflepuff. The kindhearted, well meaning, sweet, responsible Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff that’s like in all of those incorrect quotes blogs and “Slytherin and Hufflepuff friendships uwu” posts. But for real, Bad is very Hufflepuff. He does however have Slytherin Loyalty, considering he pretty much sacrificed the entire server for Skeppy, but if you would try to convince me that Bad is a Slytherin I will just laugh at you

Skeppy

It was at this point I realized what I’ve gotten myself into with this post, which you know, not fun. Skeppy is both cocky and filled with energy, with a real ambition to cause chaos. He’s also shown to be willing to sacrifice himself for the person he loves, Bad, when he gave himself up to the egg. I’ve seen some people say Slytherin, but I’m kinda getting Gryffindor from the lad, so yeah, another lion.

Antfrost

Frosty here is a kind hearted person that for the most part seem to be along for the ride. He reminds me a bit of a parent of toddlers, with his patience and serenity towards the more chaotic people on the server, so of course my natural instinct is Hufflepuff. Buuuuut, then there’s again the issue with the egg and the Slytherin loyalty, this time towards his boyfriend Velvet who he was willing to join a cult for (relationship goals) but again, you can’t really say Ant is a Slytherin considering how wrecked he was about what he did while in the eggpire when he was released from it’s grasp. So yeah, Puffle boy

Captain Puffy

Oh captain my captain, you are such a Gryffindor. And some of you may disagree on that, stating that she’s a Hufflepuff or something (I did research before this to check what other people think, I know) but naaah, she a lion. Puffy is very motherly and protective towards other people on the server, especially the minors, but in the way that a Bear is protective towards its cub, which is gentle towards them but fierce towards others. Puffy also falls natural in the role of a leader as seen with Pro-Omelette, but that is kinda expected since she’s a past Pirate Captain. But she wasn’t the leader she was supposed to be, as she waited quite a while to act against the eggpire out of fear of hurting her friends, which lead to quite the damage towards the rest of the server. She’s also been shown to act on impulse, killing Antfrost and taking one of his lives after he killed her son. Idk if this is a good explanation of why I believe Puffy to be a Gryffindor, it sounds more like I’m claiming her to be a Slytherin or Hufflepuff, but she is a Gryffindor I promise!

Foolish Gamers

Foolish is a kind and friendly being, if not a bit naive and easily distracted. He’s also not the brightest person, in fact I’d go as far as to call the guy a Himbo, and he can be a bit skittish sometimes if he’s stressed or haven’t taken a break in a while. But despite it all, the guy is someone who’s creative and hard working, with a brilliant mind for his building. The man is an artist who can get grumpy if you suppress his creative aura, and put his heart and soul into his works. He also has a habit of getting wrapped up in big projects, and ignoring sleep or personal care until he’s finished them. This all leads me to say that Mr Gamers is a Ravenclaw, just not the smartest one. But hey, we can’t all be geniuses, can we.

Slimecicle

Slime is very naive and very trusting towards people around him, taking every word they say as a fact. He can also be a bit dark and ominous at times, but quickly shakes it off as nothing important. This all makes him quite childish, which is very hard to sort, so I’m gonna say Hufflepuff for his friendliness and move on.

Purpled Bedwars

I actually started loving this guy the minute I saw him, purely because Purple is my favorite colour, like my man has taste. Purpled, like Punz, is a guy who helps whoever pays him the most. He’s not interested in most things on the server, too busy looking out for number one (And Dogchamp of course). He’s very self reliant and resourceful, but still quite passive. He may not be the most ambitious guy, but Purpled is definitely a Slytherin (It also brings me and my girlfriend Serotonin knowing that the mercenary siblings are both in the same house, we love those two)

Hannahxxrose

I don’t watch Hannah that much, but god I love her voice, it makes my lesbian little heart happy. Hannah is a friendly person who is very naive about the conflicts on the server, thinking it all can can be solved by placing a rose (God I wish). She’s a good decorator and a good hearted person, who unfortunately fell victim to the egg’s influence. I’m going with Hufflepuff on her, but I’m honestly not entirely sure as I don’t know that much about her.

HBomb94

H is a very well meaning person that only really wants people to be friendly towards each other. He had a strict moral code and he keeps to it, as shown where Fundy tried to get his help with blowing shit up. He’s very helpful to those who ask and is willing to back up his friends when it’s needed, which makes me say that the friendly totally not dirty cat maid is a Hufflepuff.

Connoreatspants

I just want you all to know that I’m writing this before Connor’s lore stream that surely will just go against everything I say because fate hates me, just so ya know. Connor is not a person that does stuff on the server with lore and he for the most part keeps to himself, so this is a bit hard. Connor also has this thing where he likes to say things just to confuse him, and also making a bit of cursed lore, but he’s still a fairly humble person. He does lie and steal a bit, and has this habit of moving into other people’s houses, but I digress. I’m actually leaning towards Ravenclaw on him, for some reason, so that’s what I’m going with until I have more of an established character.

ItsAlyssa

I know she has left the server and stuff, but she was one of the original members so it would be a crime not to include her. Alyssa is a bit chaotic, often going on killing sprees, or burning down the trees outside of L’Manburg. So I’m placing Alyssa in Gryffindor, but to be honest I don’t really know at this point.

Callahan

How do you sort a person who does not speak, stream, or show like anything of his personality? The answer is, you don’t. Hufflepuff is the house of those who don’t fit in anywhere else, and that’s where I’m placing him.

Vikkstar123

Please log onto the server I’m begging you, I didn’t watch you as a kid and honestly know nothing about you. From what I’ve seen of Vik he’s a very humble person that tries to stay out of it all, instead forming a land together with his bro Lazar. Honestly my instincts say Ravenclaw and I trust my instincts, so I’m putting him in Ravenclaw

Lazarbeam

Lazar was actually a big part of the exile arc which I realized after already have written his, so now I gotta rewrite it. Lazar is fairly ambitious on the server, and has the goal to obtain the most powerful objects on the server just to rival the other strong members of the smp. He’s especially against Tommy, and aims to do a lot to be the opposite of him, aka well respected and not a war criminal that got exiled (Totally fair goal). Despite that, he was able to show some empathy to the British child, even going as far as to give him a disk during his exile. This all makes me say Slytherin on him.

Michaelmcchill

Newest boy. Michael is a very apathetic person, showing little to no empathy towards most people’s trauma on the server. The person he does feel empathy for however is Dream, who of course did nothing wrong and is locked up in the prison which is just horrible oh no. Michael just truly does not care about what you’ve been through (as of now) which is why I’m gonna say Slytherin, because he does have Slytherin loyalty towards Mr Was Taken.

TL;DR

Tommy-Lion

Wilbur-Snake

Tubbo-Eagle

Techno-Eagle

Philza-Snake

Ranboo-Badger

Eret-Snake

Nikki-Badger

Fundy-Eagle

Dream-Snake

George-Eagle

Sapnap-Lion

Punz-Snake

Jack-Lion

Schlatt-Snake

Quackity-Snake

Karl-Badger

Sam-Badger

Ponk-Lion

Bad-Badger

Skeppy-Lion

Antfrost-Badger

Puffy-Lion

Foolish-Eagle

Slime-Badger

Purpled-Snake

Hannah-Badger

HBomb-Badger

Connor-Eagle

Alyssa-Lion

Callahan-Badger

Vik-Eagle

Lazar-Snake

Michael-Snake

So all together we have Seven lions, Ten Snakes, Seven Eagles and Ten Badgers. I think that’s fair tbh

#Dream SMP #Dsmp #Hogwarts #Harry Potter AU #Hogwarts houses #tommyinnit #Wilbur Soot #tubbo underscore #Technoblade #Philza Minecraft #ranboo my beloved #The Eret #nikki nihachu #Fundy Soot #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #Sapnap #Punz #Jack Manifold #quackityhq #karl jacobs #awesamdude #drops by ponk #badboyhalo #Skeppy #Antfrost #Captain Puffy #foolish gamers #charlie slimecicle #And that’s all the characters I can tag I reached max limit everyone

[shumaiseyeliner]

“Hi! Uh~can I make a request? I feel real angsty rn so let's do Nagito, Post-game Izuru/Hajime (sorry), Makoto, Fuyuhiko and Kokichi and a Dying reader who dies in their arms confessing :) Also I love your stories so much~”

a/n: y’all know that I’m bad at writing for them (hajime and izuru) but you just enjoy seeing me struggle 😭🤚I’M DOING THEM SEPARATELY BC I FEEL LIKE A DUMBASS WHENEVER I WRITE FOR THEM TOGETHER, also writing nagito for this prompt made my heart hurt, komahina vibes and I cried a lil

warnings: yandere, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy mindsets, unhealthy behavior, angst, death, spoilers for nagito’s freetime events, suicide mention in nagito’s, his part is longer but there’s too much to unpack with nagito 🥲, murder mention

Komaeda Nagito

☘︎︎ he’s literally dying from dementia and another disease, so I feel like while Nagito craves a relationship with his darling, he definitely pushes them away a lot due to having the (fair) idea that he’s going to end up dying before his darling. It’s a really sad truth about Nagito that he doesn’t acknowledge much, but he’s extremely lonely and afraid that he’s going to end up dying alone, but I think he’d eventually just want to spend what time he has left servicing his darling. That’s how he wants to die, truly. So, you can imagine his absolute despair once he realizes that his darling is going to die.

☘︎︎ whether it’s from a disease or not, Nagito knows that his darling is going to die before it’s actually happening. He’s absolutely convinced it’s due to his luck cycle, so the dread he feels is absolutely crushing. Nagito, due to his illnesses, lacks empathy, but as his darling is dying in his arms, he’s sobbing his heart out. He doesn’t know how to process what’s going on, and while this may sound harsh, his darlings confession just makes it ten times worse. Nagito is closed off because of the severe amount of trauma he’s gone through, so coming to terms with their death is quite literally going to be impossible for him.

☘︎︎ hate to say it... but he won’t last long after his darling dies, especially knowing that they loved him. The only thing keeping Nagito from the deep end had been his darling, so I don’t think he’d live very long afterwards. He’s the type that would say that he wouldn’t be able to live without his darling in his life, and it was true, technically, and Nagito proves this through his actions. He becomes reckless, and I don’t think his luck cycle could ever keep up with that in the long run. He’d end up dying, eventually, and while it could be counted as an accident, it most definitely was not.

Kamukura Izuru

☘︎︎ he does not deal with this well, and this is because Izuru knew that his darling was going to die already. It messed worh his brain, and he hated knowing that they’d die eventually. He left his darling alone - see, avoided them - because he specifically did not want to be there when it happened. Izuru is still very new to emotions, so when they’re forced out of him, he can become rather... angry. That being said, he doesn’t accept the fact that his darling is going to die very easily, Izuru tries to help them in his own way, but he’s literally incapable of stopping it from happening.

☘︎︎ needless to say, he’s pretty much seething when his darling dies in his arms. Like... this is something he cannot emotionally comprehend and it bothers him a lot knowing that he was helpless in this situation. Their confession of loving him just makes it worse for Izuru, especially since he doesn’t fully grasp what that would have meant for him if he had caught onto his own feelings earlier on. He reaction is just kind of him being numb, if I’m being completely honest, because he doesn’t understand. Izuru wasn’t built for these types of things, literally, he wasn’t.

Hinata Hajime

☘︎︎ he’s got a lot of issues, especially if you look into the fear of being inferior that he has. After the program, I think Hajime had a lot more confidence than he did before, so he was confident in his ability to protect his darling and he wanted to love them, genuinely. He was trying to work on his issues in order to be a better person for his darling, so this happening is like a slap in Hajime’s face. He’s still afraid of being less special, less strong, so his reaction to his darling dying in his arms is a pure emotional one. Frankly, he’s a mess, but why wouldn’t he be? The love of his life has died, after all.

☘︎︎ overall, though, Hajime is angry. It’s bad for his mental health, but he most definitely blames himself, and remembering his darlings confession makes Hajime’s heart hurt. He’s just so... emotional about the whole thing. A more innocent reaction, but he’s still undeniably angry. He’d have two different reactions, though, depending on his darling cause of death. An illness would cause him to become angry at himself and horribly self-deprecating. However, if they were killed by someone else, things would not be the same for Hajime. He’s seething with rage, and he’s going to kill whoever did this to his darling.

Naegi Makoto

☘︎︎ like Hinata, he has one of the more emotional reactions, but they’re very different. Makoto is very attached to his darling, they genuinely mean the world to him, and his mindset is much like Komaeda’s, just not including the self-depreciation. Makoto, however, knows for a fact that if anything bad ever happened to his darling, he’d die. So, when his darling does end up dying in his arms, Makoto is completely broken up about it. He’s inconsolable afterwards and he pretty much just falls apart at the seams, which is pretty disturbing to witness considering how he usually acts.

☘︎︎ he’s just so... sad. Makoto genuinely adored every single thing about his darling, so their confession along with their death was like an emotional gut punch for him, especially when he gets to thinking about how it would have been like if he had found out about their feelings beforehand. Makoto is just full of regrets, irs very sad to see, actually. I feel like Kirigiri would try to help him out of the emotional ditch that he’s been thrown into, but it’s really no use, especially considering how he thinks about it constantly. His darling is all he ever thinks about in general, but after their death it becomes worse.

Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko

☘︎︎ also apart of the overly emotional reaction group. Fuyuhiko does not deal with this well, and relives seeing his darling die in his arms daily in his head. Fuyuhiko isn’t very open worh his emotions in the first place, so I think much like Komaeda he’d go through a period of time during his infatuation where he simply pushed his darling away, they just do it for different reasons. Rather than doing it for his darlings sake like Komaeda, Fuyuhiko does it because he doesn’t like the fact that he’s fallen for someone, he becomes offended. So, his darlings death hits him hard.

☘︎︎ despite how he might’ve acted around his darling, Fuyuhiko had fallen for them hard, so even the idea of them being inconvenienced made Fuyuhiko angry, so just imagine how them dying in his arms went. He’s crying and screaming at them at the same time and he’s a mess, a lot of emotions are flowing out of him so he most likely accidentally lets out that he loves them as well, but he won’t remember saying it once everything is over, he’ll be too busy mourning. Receiving a confession from his darling like this is going to make Fuyuhiko furious, and I think he’d be kind of angry with his darling afterwards, but that doesn’t last.

Oma Kokichi

☘︎︎ not emotional... outwardly. Kokichi is constantly putting up a mask of not caring, and his darling is not an exception to this whatsoever. It’s just what he does, so when he’s faced with a situation like this he isn’t too sure what he’s supposed to do. Kokichi is kind of freaking out when he realizes that his darling is literally dying because that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen... like, ever. Kokichi is usually pretty lighthearted about most things, but this is something he cannot handle normally like he usually would. His mental state is pretty much falling apart the moment he realizes what’s happening.

☘︎︎ he wouldn’t cry at first, but the confession from his darling feels like he’s being killed. Kokichi truly can’t understand why they love him in the first place, because he’s admittedly pretty terrible to them sometimes, but just the fact that they care for him is breaking Kokichi’s resolve and it’s only after his darlings death that it becomes clear to everyone else around him that he’s definitely not okay after everything that happened. He still teases people, but there’s an obvious shift in his attitude and how he holds himself. Frankly, he’s depressed, and he’s never going to stop being depressed until he dies.

writing nagito’s had me like

this made me SAD

#yandere komaeda nagito #yandere kamukura izuru #yandere hinata hajime #yandere naegi makoto #yandere kuzuryu fuyuhiko #yandere oma kokichi #yandere danganronpa #yandere sdr2 #yandere drv3 #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere #shumaiwrites