#(1). i want to know each twist and turn

[namelessprince]

spent the last 2 days thinking about what animals pd characters would be :3

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 in between : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

I just can't come in between them, they got their own thing ʚĭɞ or 6 times people thought they were dating + the 1 time it was actually true.

"So, you're dating?" the new camper looks between her and Percy after they gave him the tour around camp.

Ah, the long awaited question.

And the answer is always the same. "No, we're friends, why?"

Once again, the camper looks between her and Percy, who's standing just behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head comfortably resting back on his chest. "Oh, nothing, I just thought—"

Yes. Everyone just thought. Everyone just thought they were together, and everyone was always shocked when it turned out they were merely friends.

Percy and her couldn't understand it at all, because it was totally normal for friends to act the way they acted with each other. Right?

ʚĭɞ the ponytail.

It is, obviously, totally normal for friends to want to help each other out before combat. So, of course Percy knows exactly how to tie her hair into a perfect ponytail. Doesn’t everyone know that?

Who can blame him if he knows his best friend so well that he can easily notice her discomfort with her hair falling on her face when she's sparring? And who can blame him if he wants to help? That's what best friends do.

So he didn’t see anything wrong when he stood behind her after they called for time out, his fingers gently carding through her hair, gathering it into a ponytail, twisting it with practiced fingers and securing it with the hair tie that he just happens to have on his wrist.

"Thanks, Perce." She says, as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Dude, how do you even know how to make a ponytail to begin with?" Leo asks when he hangs back and she goes back to sparring.

"She hates when her hair falls on her face." He shrugs, as if that's enough explanation.

Leo doesn’t understand, he doesn’t try to, he simply shakes his head and says, "You do realize you're in love, right?"

But Percy isn't even hearing, his eyes fixed on her and his smile growing when he sees her more relaxed without her hair bothering her.

ʚĭɞ the necklace & hairtie

Yes, it is completely normal that she wears his best friend's initial around her neck. Totally normal.

It isn't even that noticeable, just a small, golden "P" that rests on her collar bone. Cute and meaningless. She just likes jewelry. This one she especially likes, since she wears it every day.

Clarisse has never noticed it before, but now that she stands in front of her as they drink water after training, the gold necklace manages to catch her attention, sparkling under the sun tauntingly.

Clarisse squints her eyes at it. "Is that... a 'P' in your necklace?"

She lowers her water bottle and smiles, and oh— Clarisse already knows what's coming just by the silly smile on her face. "Yes, for Percy."

"How is that-" Clarisse stops herself with a sigh. "Nevermind."

She's tired of questioning it.

And Percy? He adores the necklace, but he also loves the hair tie he always has on his wrist. Because friends should be prepared for when their best friend needs a hair tie, of course. There’s nothing else to it.

People don't realize at first, it's a simple black hair tie. But Percy fiddles a lot with it during meetings, snapping it against his skin when he's bored. And he doesn’t let anyone take it or borrow it from him, "anyone has an extra hair tie?" and he's silent because he's sure as hell not giving his.

Nobody really understands why until he ends up losing it and he's frantically looking around for it as if it's such a precious object he just lost and not a simple hair tie.

"Hey do you know if I left the hair tie in your cabin last afternoon?" He asks her when they sit together for breakfast.

"No, but you can have this one if you want." And it's that simple. He nods. And she takes it off her hair to give it to him.

This one is not even a black hair tie, but rather a lilac scrunchie that definitely clashes with his orange camp shirt. But Percy is grinning like a child opening christmas gifts, and you best believe he won't lose this one.

"Is that her scrunchie on his wrist?" Katie Gardner squints at him when he walks past her table.

"Yes, and he's wearing it like it's a promise ring."

ʚĭɞ the kiss on the cheek

And of course it's normal for her to greet him with a kiss on the cheek every time.

Hi? Kiss on the cheek. Bye? Kiss on the cheek. Training? Kiss on the cheek. Breakfast? Kiss on the cheek. Seeing him after capture the flag? Kiss on the cheek. It was simply her way of greeting. Him. Only him.

So when she was late for a cabin meeting and rushed past him with a distracted. "Morning, Perce!" without a kiss? Percy kind of froze. His eyes followed her as she walked away, looking like a kicked puppy, like a kid who's candy had just been stolen.

He proceeds to spend the rest of the day sulking. No sign of her around. No kiss on the cheek. By dinner, he's still weirdly quiet.

Grover asks first. "Dude, are you okay? you look like someone just stole your christmas gifts."

"She didn’t kiss my cheek today." He mumbles, more to himself than to his friends.

Piper almost looks like she wants to throw her fork to his head as she asks, "Is this whole thing just because she didn’t kiss your cheek?"

"Why didn’t she? Did I do something wrong?" And he's pouting, dramatically sad about it.

Grover raises an eyebrow at Annabeth, but before any of them can say anything else, she finally arrives, almost running to the table and taking her usual seat besides Percy.

"Sorry guys, had a busy day today." She excuses herself and then— like it's second nature, she leans to press a kiss against Percy's cheek. A greeting.

And every single one of his friends is able to witness the change in Percy's expression, the way his whole face just brightens. Long forgotten is the sadness and the sulking.

"How is this normal?" Annabeth shakes her head, going back to her food.

ʚĭɞ the wallet

Percy, as a good friend would, has memorized her usual order. "Chicken sandwich with no tomatoes and fries on the side, add honey mustard for those please."

"Does it change anything if I point out that you hesitated with your own order but not with hers?" Jason asks, looking at him as if he's simply ridiculous.

"That's what friends are for." Percy shrugs, taking out his wallet.

"So you know all your friends orders that way? I don't think-" Frank's words trail off when Percy opens his wallet. "What is that?"

Percy pulls out a few dollars before he realizes Frank is talking to him, his eyes fixed on the photo on his wallet. "Hm?" he looks down and he smiles at the photo. "Oh, that's y/n."

He proudly opens the wallet wider to allow both Jason and Frank to see the photo of little five year old y/n squinting at the camera with a wide grin, a bandaid on her nose. "Doesn’t she look cute?"

"I- uh- do you just carry it in your wallet?" Jason asks, genuinely taken by surprise. And he thought he could expect anything from those two.

"Well, yeah? she gave it to me ages ago." and he turns to pay.

Frank and Jason exchange looks and shake their heads in disbelief, meanwhile Percy is already busy. "Hey do you have those chocolate chip cookies with the colorful little sprinkles on top? She likes those."

ʚĭɞ the flowers and lipsticks

Friends get each other flowers, right? at least, Percy will if he casually spots flowers while shopping for groceries with her mom.

It's not his fault, they were just there.

A bouquet of pink lilies, her all time favorite flowers, right when he's walking past the flower stand. They are basically calling for him.

When Sally Jackson looks up from her cart and finds his son holding a bouquet in one hand and gummy worms in the other, she smiles to herself.

"Is there any special dates coming soon?" She teases, knowing exactly what this is about.

"Oh?" he looks down, as if he just realized he's holding flowers. "Oh these? they remind me of y/n, so I thought I might aswell get them for her."

Sally nods, she doesn't question it, she doesn't try to understand it. Because she already knows.

Except that sometimes it really is unbelievable that his son is so oblivious, Sally gets to realize this when she takes a lip balm from the racks by the cash register. "Maybe I should get y/n one of these, she likes them, doesn’t she?"

Percy hums, distracted by placing the groceries in the chekout belt. "Yep, but make sure to get the cherry-mint one, you know? the one in the little pot with the silver lid. She loves that one."

"Percy, how can you know how it tastes?"

Silence. For a second, Percy just stops mid-putting the bread down and realizes what he just did.

"I guessed." he replies simply.

Because he's not about to confess to his mother that he knows that's the lip balm she has been wearing since he kissed her for the first and only time when they were twelve. So what? they had just been friends who had never kissed anyone before. It just seemed fitting at the time that they should share their first kiss with each other.

And it was totally normal if maybe he simply made a mental note not to ever forget her favorite lip balm. Because he's a good friend.

"Perseus, you are unbelievable."

ʚĭɞ the date

Percy felt as if it was perfectly normal to be worried for his friend going on a date, worried to the point of sulking the entire day? completely normal.

Yes. She has a date. With some guy Percy didn’t even bother learning the name of. Percy had only focused on the sheer audacity of this guy to be charming enough to get her flowers— roses, seriously? and ask her out.

But it's normal for him to be a little protective over his best friend. That's all it is. He just doesn't want her getting hurt by some dude that didn’t even bother trying to know her favorite flowers.

That's the only explanation for the way he felt something inside him twisting when he saw her before she had to leave for the date, looking all pretty and smiling brightly to go out with some other guy.

That's why he doesn’t do much the whole day, he doesn’t train or joins his friends on their impromtu day at the lake. By the time the night falls, he has been on his cabin for hours, glaring at the ceiling for more time than he'd like to admit.

It's past lights out when there’s a soft knock coming from his door, and before he can even react, she opens the door and slips inside, still in that dress that looks like it's been made just for her, her heels clicking as she holds them in her hand.

Most of the times, she lingers on the door to wait for Percy to give her permission to step inside— as if he would ever tell her to leave. But not this time, this time she walks quickly and doesn’t even stop at the edge of the bed or sits like she always does.

No, this time she simply crawls into bed with him.

"Hey, how did-" He gets cut off when she suddenly wraps her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.

"Missed you." Her voice is muffled against his chest, but he's able to understand. "So much."

Percy wraps his arms around her waist almost instictively, pulling her closer to him. "You saw me this afternoon."

"Still missed you." She replies. "Especially after that date."

He chuckles softly, his fingers carding through her hair, her fingers curl slightly against his shirt, and he tightens his hold around her. And it feels right.

"Was it that bad?" He asks, keeping his tone light, as if he didn’t spend the whole day brooding.

"So bad." There’s no hesitance. "He talked about himself the whole night. Barely asked anything about me. And when he did, and I brought you up, he got all weird."

Percy's hands stopped on her hair for a second, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Weird?"

She shifted slightly, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck. "He he told me that we should probably distance ourselves a little because people thought we were dating and he almost didn’t ask me out because of you."

"That's ridiculous." Percy laughs at that, but it even surprises him how forced it sounds, how his stomach twists again.

She pulls away now, barely really, just enough to look at him. "Yup, ridiculous, right?"

They both look at each other, her fingers still curled in his shirt, his arms still securely wrapped around her waist. And neither of them moves.

After a moment, he whispers, as if he couldn't allow himself to speak any louder because it might break the whole thing. "Have you ever thought that maybe... it isn't so ridiculous?"

His heart is pounding, his gaze glued to her, waiting for a response. "Yes, maybe it isn't ridiculous, maybe-"

Percy doesn’t let her finish her sentence, he can't. Because the moment she confirms what he has been thinking about, it's like his body moves instinctively, his lips suddenly crashing against hers.

Cherry-mint lips welcoming his like they've been waiting for this for a long time, his hand brushing over the delicate chain around her neck, fingers pausing just for a second on the tiny gold letter that hangs on it.

And it's exactly what it should be. Soft. Sure. Familiar. Comforting. And even better than that first time they kissed back when they were twelve year-old kids convinced that all they could ever be was friends.

ʚĭɞ the kiss.

The next morning, nobody notices the change— because there has not been any evident change in the way they act. Everyone just thinks that the clingyness, the kisses on the cheek, the hugs, are just part of the routine already.

Until they're getting ready for capture the flag and, as usual, Percy helps her with her ponytail. It isn't anything that people haven't seen already, No. So everyone just rolls their eyes at them, mumbling about how oblivious they are.

"How many more months do you think will take them to finally realize?" Clarisse mumbles, putting on her helmet.

"Who knows? It could be years, they-" Grover's words die on his mouth when Percy suddenly leans to kiss her.

Kiss her. Percy is kissing her. In front of everyone.

He doesn’t even realize that people have stopped to look at them, because as he pulls away, the only thing worth his attention is her smile as he says. "You'll do great out there, angel."

"I swear if you tell me you're only friends after that, Jackson." Leo tells him after she has ran off to go find her spear.

Percy chuckles, his smile bright, his eyes still fixed on her. "Friends? No, that's my girl."

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: Your husband of 8 years suggests an open marriage, and while he's out finding a new girlfriend, you feel like it's wrong to even glance in another man's direction. But it all changes when you download Tinder and match with Seonghwa. The man who's about to turn your world upside down. And he even happens to be your husband's boss.

Word count: 11.7K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, some angst, slow burn, a little smut (something almost happens, that's all I'm saying)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), crying, betrayal, dry-humping, lmk if I missed anything!

PART 2

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

It’s been four months. Four months since you had the conversation with your husband about having an open marriage, because he wanted to try something new. The conversation is still taking up space in your mind like it was yesterday he sat you down on the couch in the house you share.

“Honey, you know I still love you,” He kept repeating after saying the possibly most shocking things you’ve ever heard. “I’m just afraid we’ll get tired of each other if we don’t try this.. We promised to be together forever, but aren’t you wondering what else is waiting for you out in the world?”

“No,” Is all you could say. A million questions run through your mind as he sits in front of you, kneeled down on his knee with your hands in his as you sit on the couch. “I married you because I want to be with you. And only you.” Your voice is shaky, trying to hold back the tears.

He notices the way you react and squeezes your hands in his.

“And I want to be with you, baby. I wanna be with you for the rest of my life, which is why I feel like this is the best we can do for now.” He tried explaining, but it didn’t help. 

“I just don’t understand? Are you not happy with me? Am I not satisfying you enough? Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?” The questions fly out of your mouth before you’re able to hold back. He quickly shakes his head, holding your hands even tighter. 

“No, no not at all. Look, I was just thinking we could do this for a year, maybe? A year where we are still married, but see other people in the meantime. When the year ends, we’ll be back to just us, and because we promised to stay together for the rest of our lives, a year won’t seem as much. This will be the only time we get to see other people for the rest of our lives, baby. It’s not a bad thing, it's only gonna strengthen our marriage in the end.” 

For some twisted reason, you saw his point. If you agreed to this, he would have a year to be with whoever he wanted, to get everything out of his system. So you agreed. You told him you agreed to do this for a year, but there had to be rules.

You had to tell the other person when you started seeing someone. No sleeping with a bunch of people, you have to tell the other person who you’re sleeping with (mostly for safety reasons). And NO one is allowed into the bedroom besides husband and wife.

And so this has been going on for four months now, and your husband is out with his girlfriend. Since this wasn’t against your deal, you couldn’t say much against it, so you just nodded and pretended to be okay. He started seeing her a week after the deal was made, a woman from his office, and the news broke your heart. He was barely home anymore, spending all of his time at her place.

The pain of hearing your husband of 8 years loving someone else was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t even get yourself to see someone else. It felt so wrong. 

It was a friday night and you’re sitting on your couch in your shared home, and your husband just left to have a weekend getaway with his girlfriend. You’re staring at the TV that has been going for hours with some bad reality TV-show, when you finally realize how sick you are of sitting home alone while your husband is out. You grab your phone and without thinking too much, you download Tinder. 

It wasn’t an app you’ve ever tried before, since your husband and you have been dating since you were teens and got married at an early age. But you quickly figured out the app and set up your profile. 

Swiping left and right on guys was more fun than you imagined, getting a few matches here and there. There were all different types of profiles on this app. Guys looking for serious relationships, guys looking for hookups, couples looking for a woman to add to their threesome. Men who opened with “hey sexy” or bios that included “I’m not looking for anything serious unless it’s with Sabrina Carpenter.”

So when his profile popped up, you hesitated.

His picture captures you immediately, and you’re taken back with his beauty. He was… breathtaking. But not in that overly filtered, red flag kind of way. There was warmth in his eyes, even in photos. A calm kind of confidence. One picture had him sitting at a piano, another laughing in the passenger seat of a car, sunlight washing over his face like it knew exactly where to land.

No shirtless mirror pics. No awkward drunk group-pictures. No fish.

“Park Seonghwa.” You read his name out loud. His bio was short. “Looking for something good. And maybe someone to watch bad TV with.”

You stared at his profile for a full two minutes before swiping right, mostly convinced it wouldn’t be a match anyway.

But then-

It’s a match!

Suddenly your heart starts to beat faster and you sit up straight on the couch while looking at your phone.

Did you just match him? Probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?

Your stomach did a weird little flip. You waited. Twenty minutes. An hour. Maybe he wasn’t the type to message first. Maybe he matched by accident. Or maybe-...

Park Seonghwa Are you watching something awful right now? Be honest.

You look at your screen for a few seconds before reacting. A smile spreads across your lips as you open his message and type back.

Me Love Mansion: Season 6. There’s a guy crying because no one likes his magic tricks.

You quickly see the dots that indicate he’s typing.

Park Seonghwa That sounds deeply tragic. And also like something I’d binge while pretending I hate it

Me You’re one of those people? “This show is terrible” but suddenly you’ve watched 8 episodes and you know everyone’s star sign.

While you wait for his answer, you enter his profile once again. You can’t help looking at his pictures, mesmerized by how beautiful this man is. You almost get a feeling of recognition while looking at him, like you’ve seen him on a poster or in an ad or something. His profile doesn’t inform about his occupation, but you’re sure he must be showing that face off somewhere. 

A new message pops up.

Park Seonghwa: I have a spreadsheet

You laughed out loud for the first time that night.

You: So what’s your favorite actually-good movie then?

Park Seonghwa: You’re asking a very serious question to someone who owns a full set of replica lightsabers

You: Oh, so you’re very serious about it

Park Seonghwa: Yes. Star Wars. All of it. Even the prequels. Especially the prequels. I said what I said

I’m at my third Star Wars movie of the day. The movies are over two hours each, so you can imagine how eventful my day is so far

You can’t help but smile while you type out your answer. 

Me As a person who doesn’t know much about the franchise, I can’t tell you whether I’m impressed or slightly worried. Maybe I should put on a Star Wars movie and give it a chance?

An answer ticks in a few seconds later.

Park Seonghwa If you do, watch “The Last Jedi”. I just started mine, we can watch it together but separately

You don’t know how a guy you’re only a few messages deep with has you convinced this is the best way to spend your night. You decide to play the movie and message him you’re watching it too. This is the most action you’ve gotten in months, but somehow it's the perfect way to start this journey of an open-relationship. 

Maybe.

The movie begins and Seonghwa introduces some of the characters as they show up on screen. You find yourself laughing at his messages, smiling and waiting for him to text you the next thing. A feeling you haven’t felt in years, despite being married to who you’re convinced is the love of your life. But you can already tell that Seonghwa is a completely different type of guy, and for once, you actually don’t feel alone in the house you share with your husband. 

The movie ends and you’re hundreds of messages deep.

Park Seonghwa Now that we’ve concluded that “The Last Jedi” is part of an amazing franchise but not at all the best movie, I wanna admit that I’ve never looked so much at my phone during a Star Wars movie. I feel like I’m cheating on my favorite series

The text makes you giggle and you’re quick to type your answer.

Me Despite enjoying the movie, I must admit that I didn’t see half of it because I was focused on my phone. But I’ll gladly give Star Wars another chance someday

You see the text bubble appear and then go away a few times, making you curious about what he’s about to say. 

Seonghwa: We could talk about the movie over dinner tomorrow?

You stare at your screen for what feels like forever, feeling like a teenager receiving a text from her crush. This overwhelming feeling Seonghwa leaves you is something completely new, but despite it being a new and slightly scary feeling, you can’t help but feel excited. And so your fingers start typing.

Me I’d love to! After arranging your upcoming date with Seonghwa, you decide to head to bed. You’re meeting him at a restaurant in the city tomorrow, Saturday. He offered to pick you up, but you’ve seen too many horror movies to give your address to a stranger before meeting them, so you came up with an excuse to meet him there. 

You get comfortable in bed before opening his profile once again to look at his pictures.

This man… wow.

But just like before, a feeling of recognition hits you and you study his pictures a bit more. You’re sure you would remember him if you had met him, because who would forget a face like that? But it doesn’t ring a bell.. 

You open a new tab on your phone and search for his name. Perhaps he has been in a show you’ve seen on tv, maybe on a poster somewhere. There’s no way this man isn’t showing off his looks somehow. 

His name pops up on your screen.

A gasp leaves your lips and you stare at him in awe. 

It can’t be him! No no no no no… 

The name, the face, him in a suit. Everything washes over you. You throw your phone away from you and bury your face in your pillow. 

In your mind, you’re getting transported to a specific night, one year ago. Your husband has your arm in his and you’re walking side by side in your finest attire. You’re laughing at something your husband's co-worker said, when you sense a powerful presence enter the circle at the company dinner at your husband’s job.

“Oh, I want to introduce you to someone,” Your husband says as he turns you towards the newest member of the group. “My boss, Park Seonghwa.”

You stare up at him, Seonghwa slightly taller than your husband. His gaze adverts to you as he reaches out his hand. But as you give him your hand, he doesn’t do a normal handshake. He gently takes your hand in his and sends you a warm smile. Something in his eyes makes you lose all concentration, as you’re lost in his beauty. 

And then it all made sense. You’ve thought these exact thoughts before. A year ago at the company dinner and again tonight. 

Everything in your mind is going 100 m/ph and you suddenly feel confused. Does he know you’re married to his employee? Does he remember you? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t, or else he would have said something. And now you’ve arranged a date with him. 

You grab your phone again, considering if you should cancel the dinner, but something in you stops that from happening. The words don't appear in your head when you try to get out of the situation, so you delete the nonsense you’ve written so far, and decide to take things as they come. You place your phone on your night stand and get comfortable under the covers, trying your best to fall asleep.

On a couch across town, Seonghwa is still looking at his phone, looking at the text-bubbles come and go. When it doesn’t result in a text from the woman he has been texting all night, he goes to look at your profile for the 29th time tonight. 

He didn’t expect much from Tinder.

Honestly, it had been a joke. A dare, technically. His assistant downloaded it on his phone one night after too many glasses of wine at a company dinner and said, “You need to date someone who doesn’t know what your net worth is.”

So fine. He swiped. Occasionally. Mostly out of boredom, sometimes out of curiosity. Everyone started blending together. Bios full of yoga poses, forced “entrepreneur” energy, one woman who said she manifested her future husband every morning through herbal tea and moon rituals.

But then he saw you.

He found himself leaning back against the cushions, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot as your replies came in. You weren't trying to be impressive. You were just herself. And that was more magnetic than anything he’d seen in months. He didn’t even realize he’d been texting for two straight hours until his phone buzzed with a calendar notification:

Dinner with Executive Team – 9 AM monday.

He groaned. Whatever. He’d been in back-to-back meetings all week. He could allow himself one night to just… feel normal. Human.

“What’s a woman like you doing here?” he’s asking himself with a smirk, scrolling through your pictures. 

He had planned to go to bed early, have a peaceful night and get up early tomorrow, but he’s been too fascinated by the woman on the other side of the app. The tug on his lips doesn’t go away as he gets up from the couch and decides to head to bed, already accepting that he won’t get up early tomorrow. 

But one thing is for sure.

He’s very satisfied with the way his night went.

***

Saturday arrives, and you find yourself in front of the restaurant you agreed to meet Seonghwa at. You haven’t had any contact since you arranged the date, besides the check-in he made earlier today to ask if you were still down for dinner.

You feel the nerves in your body when you open the door, not having felt this feeling since you started dating your husband. The restaurant is in an area of town you usually didn’t visit - it is more expensive than you are used to. But not spending money on dates with your husband, and only cooking food for one for the past four months has resulted in you having a bit more money than you usually do, so you could go big for one night and spend some money on a good restaurant. 

The restaurant has a dark design with marble and wooden interior. The light is dimmed and you notice couples occupying tables throughout the restaurant. 

This is actually happening. You are going on a date with him.

With Seonghwa. 

It suddenly hit you and once again, you starting to doubt if this was a good idea. You have come to the point where you wanted to date, but dating your husband’s boss seems like the next level. Will your husband be okay with this? Will Seonghwa be okay with this?

Suddenly feeling like your legs are about to give out, you turn around to head outside but you are instead met with a human wall. A set of hands grab your waist to steady you, making sure you won’t fall by the sudden collision. 

“Running away already?” The voice asks, darker than you remember but also soft with a small tease. You look up to see Seonghwa’s soft eyes, slightly covered by some dark pieces of hair. Being a few inches from his face, you can’t help but freeze to study how absolutely amazing he looks up close. 

His almost black eyes, bushy brows, how his upper lip looks slightly bigger than the other, the most perfect nose you’ve ever seen.. Everything is too perfect, you don't know how to react. 

The sudden realization that his hands are on your waist wakes you up, and you stand back up straight to take a step away from him and his undeniably stunning face. 

“Uhm, no I.. I mean, I- no. I didn’t..” Your struggle with words makes him chuckle and he seems to brush off your awkward first meeting quicker than you. 

“How about we find our table?” He asks with a smile, placing his hand on your back to lead you further into the restaurant. 

“Mh-hmm.” Is all you manage to get out, wanting to kick yourself in the head for almost walking out on this man. 

The restaurant is a rooftop spot. Quiet, upscale, city lights spilling in through the glass walls. A jazz trio played somewhere in the background, subtle and elegant. The staff seem to know him, your table is ready immediately, tucked in a quiet corner with a view of the city lights. He orders a bottle of wine without looking at the menu, his tone smooth and confident, and then turn all his attention to you.

“Tell me something,” he says, resting his chin on his hand, “How have you lived your entire life and last night was the first time you watched a Star Wars movie?”

You blink at him. “You start with the hard questions?”

He smile. “I like to skip the small talk.”

You giggle. And from there, the conversation goes rather smoothly. Then easier as the wine warms your chest and his eyes never stop watching you like you were the most interesting person in the world. He asks thoughtful questions. He doesn’t talk about himself unless you ask. And when you do, he’s vague, says he works in business, likes privacy, that his life isn’t all that exciting.

Which is a lie, you are sure.

This man radiates luxury. His watch alone could pay for your college loans, and he never once checked it. And then somewhere between the wine and the main course, it starts to gnaw at you. The weight of the secret you’re keeping. Or at least… the one you thought is yours alone.

You clear your throat, reaching for your glass again even though you didn’t really want another sip.

“I should tell you something.”

He tilts his head. “Are you okay?” he senses the way your behavior changes and tries meeting your eyes.

“Yeah,” your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, too nervous to break the truth that you know this man in front of you. “Or.. I don’t know, no, yes-no..” Your heart is beating fast. “Look, I’m sorry, but I feel like I have to be honest with you. I don’t want you to waste your time sitting here, and if you don’t feel comfortable after receiving this information I totally understand, so if you’re freaked out we can pretend this never happened and I won’t-..”

“Look,” Seonghwa places his hand over yours, totally calm, meeting your eyes. “Did you kill someone?”

“No!” You try keeping your voice down. Try.

“Do you need me to hide a body?”

“No!?”

“... Are we related?”

You tilt your head “No? I hope not…?”

“Then we’re good. I won’t be freaked out.” He shrugs, leans slightly back in his seat and sends you a smile as he picks up his glass.

You look at him, really look, and then just say it.

“You’re my husband’s boss.”

A beat. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just blinked once, slowly.

“Is that so?” he asked softly.

“I figured it out when I looked you up after we matched. I wasn’t… trying to snoop, I swear, I just got curious. And then I remembered you from the company dinner last year. Anyway, I wanted to say something in case it made this… weird for you.”

He smiles gently, setting down his glass. “It doesn’t.”

You blink. “Really?”

“I knew who you were the moment I saw your profile.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh.”

“But I still swiped right,” he adds, voice low, calm. “And I still wanted to meet you.”

“…Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at you for a moment, and something in his gaze makes your skin heat. “Because I wanted the honor of inviting you out for dinner.” he says.

Your breath catches. You don’t know what to say to that, so you stay quiet, letting the words sit between you like warm embers.

“And now that we’re being honest,” he continues gently, “That little thing on your finger.” He points to the gold band with a small diamond around your finger, proving to everyone, including yourself, that you’re still in a marriage.

You give a small, helpless laugh. “Oh.. Yeah, it’s not what it looks like. Or maybe it is? I don’t think so, actually, I don’t know what this looks like, but I’m not doing anything I’m not supposed to do-...”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he says.

“No, I want to,” you reply, surprising yourself. “I need to.”

So you tell him. About the open marriage your husband suggested. About how you agreed, naively thinking it would be equal. About how he’d found someone in a matter of weeks while you’d sat at home, trying to convince yourself you weren’t just waiting. You watch Seonghwa carefully for a reaction. There is none, no judgment, no discomfort. Just a quiet focus that made you feel safer than you’d felt in months.

“But it’s actually a really good idea. I mean, we get the chance to see other people and do whatever we want, so we won’t cheat on each other later on,” you shrug, looking down at the wineglass instead of the piercing eyes in front of you. “It’s preventing us from hurting the other person in the end.” you say, finally. 

He sits quiet, just taking in your words. You can’t read his eyes, he just listens. But you don’t feel judged by the man in front of you. His eyes show too much warmth for you to be intimidated. 

“I don’t understand.” he finally says. 

“You know, if we date other people now, we won’t feel the need to do so in the future.” 

“No, I heard every word you said loud and clear,” he leaned forward in his chair, voice still soft. “I just don’t understand why he would need to.. you know.. date others when he has you.” 

Seonghwa was trying his best to not push. He could easily have said “I mean, if I was your husband, I wouldn’t want to see other people. I wouldn’t ever want another woman.” but he is still in the stage of getting to know you, doesn’t want to scare you away, and despite remembering you from the company dinner last year, he only remembers what impression you left him. A quick introduction and laughs shared in a circle of multiple people, but somehow his eyes kept drifting to you.

Your laugh, your dress, the way your eyes sparkled under the lights. It had stayed with Seonghwa for a year, so when he saw your profile on a dating app, he knew he had to shoot his shot. Unaware of what the circumstances are between you and your husband. 

But he doesn’t ask for more explanation. Instead, he shifts the conversation, just slightly, easing it toward lighter things, books, music, how you both secretly hate networking events.

And somehow, the night never felt heavy again. When dessert comes, some delicate French pastry you can’t pronounce, he insists you try the first bite. When your laugh returns, brighter this time, he smiles like that was the reward he’s been waiting for.

Later, as he walks you to your ride, you feel lighter. Like maybe it was okay to want something new. Someone new.

“I still want to see you again,” he says, standing beside the car door. His hand brushes your wrist, soft and brief. “If you want that too.”

You nod.

“I do.”

He opens the door for you, then leans down just enough to meet your eyes.

“Then let’s take our time.”

In the cab on the way home, you can’t stop smiling. You haven’t even finished closing the door behind you before your phone buzz.

Seonghwa: Text me when you’re home safe, yeah? No pressure, just want to know you’re good.

You smile into the hallway light. God, he’s that kind of man. You kick off your heels, phone still in hand, fingers already typing back.

You: Home. Warm. A little wine-dizzy but safe. Thank you for dinner.

Seonghwa: Thank you for giving me a chance. Sleep well xx

You sit on the edge of your bed for a moment longer than necessary, phone against your chest, still fully dressed. The night felt soft around the edges, like it wasn’t quite real. Like maybe you’d dreamed it. His smile, the way he listens to you like your words matter, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

And he knows. That was the wild part. He knows you’re married, to his employee, no less, and he still treats you with more care and curiosity than your own husband had in months. You let yourself fall back into bed, fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling with the ghost of his cologne still caught in your hair.

***

On this incredibly boring Monday, the rain started halfway through your meeting, and by the time you stepped outside, it had gone from a gentle drizzle to a full-on, cinematic downpour. You stand beneath the awning outside your building, arms crossed, watching as the other employees disappeared into warm cars and dry seats.

Your husband was supposed to pick you up. You agreed to that last week, so you texted him before you left, but no response. Not a word. That was twenty-five minutes ago. 

Your fingers tightens around your phone as you glance down the street for the fifth time. Just water streaking down your coat sleeve and your phone screen lighting up.

Not from him.

But from Seonghwa.

Seonghwa I debated texting you for ten minutes. This is me giving in. Hi.

You smile immediately, shoulders relaxing under your scarf as you type back.

You Ten minutes? I’m flattered. 

Three dots. Then:

Seonghwa Are you still at work or did you escape?

You exhale slowly, already smiling before your fingers move to reply.

You Currently trying to escape. But I’m waterlogged and standing under a leaky bus shelter.

A pause.

Seonghwa Do I want to know why you’re waiting for a bus in a rainstorm?

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to tell him, but because you did. And that felt… a little dangerous. But you type anyway.

You Husband said he’d pick me up after work. Then forgot.

You don’t know the reason why your husband didn’t pick you up today. But it was not the first time this has happened. Last time he was busy hanging out with his girlfriend, having his phone on silent. 

Three dots danced at the bottom of the screen for a long moment before his reply came in:

Seonghwa Tell me where you are

You don’t answer right away. Another bus pass, wrong line again, and your fingers ache from the cold.

You Seonghwa. I’m fine. It’s just a little rain

Seonghwa Sure. And I’m a little meteorologist. Tell me where you are

You bite your lip, watching as a bus rumbled past - not yours. 

You Seventh and Willow. But you don’t have to, it’s okay

Seonghwa I’m already in my car. Don’t argue with me while you’re catching pneumonia

Your lips curve in spite of yourself. You pulled your scarf tighter.

Seonghwa On my way. Five minutes. Don’t wander off or find a mysterious love interest in a bookstore while I’m driving

You spotted his car before you saw him.

It turns the corner slowly, headlights washing across the slick pavement, wipers dragging across the windshield in a steady rhythm. The passenger window rolls down just enough for him to lean towards it.

“Hey, get in,” he says, his tone easy and unaffected by the weather. “You look like you’ve been here a while.” 

You step forward, your boots making soft splashes in the puddles, and slide into the passenger seat. The warmth of the car is immediate, and you exhale, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. The car hums quietly as Seonghwa drives through the rain-slicked streets. He’s keeping his eyes on the road, but every now and then, his gaze flickers over to you, the small, concerned crease in his brow visible in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice steady but soft. He’s not pushing, just checking in.

You nod, brushing your damp hair back and glancing out the window. The cold air from the rain has soaked through your coat, and your clothes cling to you uncomfortably. The heater in the car is doing its best, but you can still feel the chill.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your voice sounds a little too quiet. “Just... a little wet. Didn’t expect next time you’d see me, to be me looking like this.”

Seonghwa doesn't respond right away, but you catch the small shift in his demeanor, a brief, thoughtful silence. His hands grip the steering wheel lightly as he drives through the darkened streets, navigating without hurry.

“Do you want to stop somewhere?” he asks, keeping his tone casual, though you can sense the care behind it. “Grab something warm?”

You think about it for a second. A warm drink, maybe a cozy corner of some café, those were things you used to enjoy. But the idea of sitting in a café, dripping wet and freezing, doesn’t feel right tonight. It feels… forced. You want warmth, sure, but not from the outside world.

You glance at him, then back at the road ahead.

“Actually,” you start, “could we just... go to your place?” your words surprising yourself. “If it’s not too much, of course.”

Seonghwa blinks, a soft smile curling at the corner of his lips, but he doesn't ask any questions. Instead, he simply nods, his gaze shifting back to the road as the corners of his mouth deepen into a fond, knowing expression.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low. “I mean... you’ve had a long day. You’re drenched.”

You shrug, even though a small part of you is shocked by your own words. "I’m fine. I’m not in the mood for a date-date or whatever. Just... somewhere warm. And I don’t wanna be alone tonight. If you don’t mind.”

The silence between you two feels more comfortable now, the tension from the earlier moments gone. It’s like a weight has lifted, neither of you needs to pretend anymore.

“Alright,” he says, his voice warm, “to my place it is.” The car turns into a quieter street, and Seonghwa taps his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, his smile still lingering.

When you step out of the car and into the rain, Seonghwa’s hand briefly touches the small of your back, guiding you toward the building. The touch is gentle and reassuring.

His apartment is warmer than you expected when you step inside. It’s spacious, sure, but it’s not the cold, intimidating type of wealth you might expect from someone like him. It’s cozy in a way that’s unexpected, like he’s curated it with care, each little thing in its place. You can tell he’s put thought into making this space a refuge, a place of comfort. 

“I can grab you a towel,” Seonghwa offers immediately, his voice soft. He’s already moving toward the bathroom, but when you shake your head, he pauses. “Are you sure? I’d feel better if you changed into something comfortable.”

You glance down at yourself, feeling how soaked your clothes are, and how tired you are of pretending like you don’t need help. You nod. “That would be nice, actually.”

He smiles, but it’s not a proud smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like he’s quietly relieved, like he wants to take care of you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. “I have a few shirts you can borrow,” he says, a hint of hesitation in his tone. “Nothing fancy, just... dry.”

You watch him for a moment, the way he’s trying to gauge your comfort level without pushing too hard. It’s the first time you’ve seen him unsure of anything, and it’s a little disarming.

“That sounds perfect,” you say, giving him a small, appreciative smile.

He moves quickly, purposefully, heart thudding a little harder than usual. Not from nerves, but from quiet anger. Who forgets to pick up their wife in the middle of a downpour? He doesn’t let the frustration show on his face. He just breathes through it, reminding himself that this moment isn’t about him. It’s about making you comfortable. It’s about undoing a little bit of whatever damage your husband didn’t think twice about causing.

He returns with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. A soft, worn-in tee, and hands it to you. The fabric is warm to the touch, and it smells faintly of him. He doesn’t linger too long, but there’s something in the way he carefully places it in your hands that makes you feel safe, like he genuinely wants you to be okay, not just physically, but emotionally too.

“Take your time,” he says softly, backing away. He nods toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s down to the left. I’ll make some tea. You’ll feel better.”

It’s a simple offer, like he’s willing to offer you warmth without making you feel indebted to him. When you disappear into the bathroom to change, you can hear him bustling around in the kitchen. You take a deep breath and let yourself relax for the first time in what feels like forever.

When you return, towel-drying your hair with one of the fluffy hand towels he left out for you, you’re practically swallowed in his clothes. The shirt hangs loose over your frame, the waistband of the sweatpants tied tight around your hips. You’ve never felt so ridiculous and so safe all at once.

Seonghwa looks up from the kitchen and immediately gives you that soft, amused smile. “Okay, that’s a look.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stylish, right? You might not get these back.”

“I was just about to say they suit you,” he replies, not missing a beat.

You laugh, and it’s small, but real, and it makes something warm twist in his chest. He’s pacing, sleeves pushed up as he moves easily around the kitchen. A kettle is on, two mugs already waiting. You catch the scent of honey and ginger in the air, something warm and slightly sweet.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmur, padding into the kitchen and wrapping your arms around yourself.

He glances up from stirring the honey. “You’re cold. You’re tired. I want to.” Then, with a softer voice: “Let me take care of you. Just a little.”

That shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does.

You sit at the counter, fingers curling around the mug he places in front of you. You’re so used to handling everything on your own that this small act of care feels like a luxury.

He leans against the counter opposite you, arms crossed casually, like he’s trying to keep a respectful distance. But he can’t help stealing glances at you. Not hungry, not suggestive, just thoughtful. Quietly admiring.

“You’ve had a long day,” he says after a pause, not prying. “Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, sipping your tea. “Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he says immediately. “We can just sit.”

No questions. No expectations. He wouldn’t make you relive any of it. Not the rain, not the waiting, not the part where someone was supposed to show up and didn’t.

You let a little smile play at the edge of your lips. “You’re... very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being comforting. It’s like you have a degree in it or something.”

Seonghwa chuckles, eyes crinkling just a little. “I’m just treating you how I think you deserve to be treated.”

He means it.

He means it.

You set your mug down. “You don’t even know me.”

Seonghwa smiles, not missing a beat. “I’m working on it.”

He leans slightly on the counter, arms still crossed, eyes steady on yours. “But I’ve picked up a few things. You’re the kind of person who checks in on others even when you’re the one having a bad day. You’re a little stubborn when it comes to letting people take care of you - you want to do things yourself. And when you’re tired, you get kind of funny. Like, weirdly funny.”

You laugh under your breath, and so does he.

“And tonight?” His smile softens. “You needed someone. I was close by. That’s all it takes.” There’s no hidden meaning in his voice. No pressure. Just the kind of honesty you’re not used to from a man.

You meet his eyes, and there it is. The kind of tension that doesn’t scream or flirt, it just hums. You glance around his kitchen. The wooden cabinets, the tiny potted herb garden on the windowsill, the slightly chipped mug in front of you. “Your place… it’s not what I expected.”

“Let me guess,” he teases, “you thought it’d be floor-to-ceiling glass, steel counters, and an automatic espresso machine?”

“Something like that.”

He grins. “I like homes that feel lived in. I don’t like that cold, overly-modern stuff. I like that I can comfortably show off my collection of magnets without having to worry if it fits in with the rest of the home.” He points to his fridge and you notice the huge collection of magnets. You let out a soft giggle.

You like that answer too much. You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I like it,” you say softly, not just about the apartment. The warm cup rests between your palms, grounding you, and Seonghwa leans back against the counter beside you, sipping his own. Then, without a word, he sets his mug down and starts rummaging through a cabinet.

You squint at him. “What are you doing?”

He glances over his shoulder with a small, almost mischievous smile. “We’re making cookies.”

You blink. “We are?”

“We are now,” he says simply, already pulling out a bag of flour.

You let out a soft laugh and step up beside him. You don’t ask if he needs help. You just join in. And he doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile so gentle. Ten minutes later, the kitchen is a disaster.

The butter refuses to cooperate, slipping through your fingers and plopping to the floor. You try again, and this time it sticks to your hands so stubbornly that Seonghwa has to come to your rescue, giggling as he wipes it off with a spatula.

“Here,” he says, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Let’s try that again.” 

You giggle, brushing hair out of your face. “I swear, never make cookies.” 

“Oh, I can tell,” he teases, but there’s no judgment in his tone, only encouragement. “It’s okay. It’s the thought that counts.”

Later, flour explodes from the bag as it’s accidentally knocked over. It snows down across the counter, your arms, his shirt. You both freeze, and then burst into laughter. A moment later, the chocolate chips spill, scattering everywhere. 

Eventually, you both give up, the half-mixed dough resting lopsided in the bowl. You sat on the counter, legs swinging slightly as Seonghwa stood beside you. The bowl rests on your lap as he hands you a spoonful of raw dough, and you take it without hesitation.

“I think we killed it.” Seonghwa says proudly, scooping up some cookie dough for himself, using the same spoon.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say around a mouthful. You sit side by side in the wreckage of flour and chocolate chips, warm tea forgotten, sharing bites of something that didn’t quite turn out the way it was supposed to, but still feels like a win.

You’re mid-laugh when he pauses, his eyes softening as they settle on you. Without a word, he steps a little closer, and his hand lifts. Gentle and careful.

“There’s a little…” he murmurs, brushing his fingers just above your eyebrow, where a streak of flour has settled. His thumb grazes your skin as he wipes it away, but he doesn’t pull back right away.

His touch lingers.

You feel it all the way down to your spine. His warmth, the closeness, the way his eyes briefly drop to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The air feels thick, like something unsaid is pressing at the edges of the moment. 

“Got it,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t move. And neither do you.

You’re still perched on the counter, his body angled toward yours, only a breath between you. He leans in slightly, gaze dropping again, first to your lips, then back up to your eyes, like he’s asking without words.

You lean in too.

Your knees bump against his hips, and your breath catches, held in your chest like it’s afraid to break the moment. His hands finds the counter next to you, grounding him, pulling him even closer. So close you can count every faint freckle on his skin. So close his breath hits your cheek.

And your phone rings.

Loud. Sharp. Invasive.

You freeze.

The moment shatters like glass.

Seonghwa pulls back slowly, but his hand stays on the counter near you, and he doesn’t turn away. Your phone rings again, and your eyes flick to the screen.

“Husband.”

You swallow hard, something sinking in your chest. Seonghwa doesn't say anything. He just watches, his expression soft but unreadable, and steps back enough to give you space. Not far, just enough. You hesitate for half a second. Then you slide off the counter, still warm from where your knees had brushed against him, and answer.

“Hello?” Your voice is thinner than you meant it to be.

He turns away, not out of anger, not even disappointment, just… quiet. Respectful. Still the same steady, gentle man, already reaching for the dish towel to start wiping flour from the counter like he’s giving you time. Giving you privacy.

But the warmth between you hasn’t disappeared.

It just simmers now, quiet and unsaid. Still there. Still waiting.

You murmur a few short replies into the phone, keeping your tone neutral. You hang up a moment later, your fingers still loosely wrapped around the device, like you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Seonghwa glances at you, not questioning, not pressing. Just that same soft-eyed look, like he sees everything without needing it explained.

You clear your throat and set the phone down on the far end of the counter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” His voice is quiet. He offers you the tiniest smile. “You didn’t miss much. The cookie dough was starting to melt anyway.”

You laugh under your breath, and he smiles a little wider.

“I should… probably get going soon,” you say.

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride.”

You change into your old clothes, now warm and dry after Seonghwa took care of it. You finish tying your shoes and glance up at him. His movements are calm, deliberate, like he’s giving you space to process, to gather yourself. His gentleness is almost too much to handle right now, and you wonder if he knows how much he’s doing, just being there. Just being himself.

The drive back to your place is calm, the city lights flickering by as Seonghwa keeps his focus on the road, his hand steady on the wheel. Every now and then, his eyes flicker toward you, like he’s checking, making sure you’re okay. 

When he finally pulls up to your house, you hesitate for a second before opening the door. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, “You really made my day.” and finally, and he offers you that smile of his. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes. 

“Anytime,” he replies softly, as if there’s no question.

You step out of the car, the door closing behind you with a soft click. You stand there for a moment, watching his headlights fade into the distance, a quiet warmth settling in your chest.

***

A week has passed since that night. The one where everything had almost felt like it could change. The small, sweet moments that lingered in the kitchen, the silent tension, and that quiet brush of his fingers against your face. But you hadn’t really spoken much after that.

Seonghwa had been giving you space. He never pressed, never pushed, just sent a message here and there, something light, something simple. Asking how your day was, letting you know he was there if you needed to talk. It was as though he understood the weight on your shoulders, the things you were still trying to process, and he respected that.

You’d found comfort in those texts. They were a gentle reminder that there was still kindness out there, that not all men were careless or indifferent. But you hadn’t been ready to dive into anything more. Not yet.

So you let the days pass, lost in work and the usual noise of life, where everything felt like it was moving forward and standing still all at once.

When you walk into the house that evening, expecting to be alone, the air feels too still. Almost oppressive. You take off your shoes, drop your bag, and then, suddenly, you hear it.

Moans.

Loud and unmistakable.

Your heart skips a beat. The noise comes from the bedroom.

You freeze, panic washes over you in a way you never thought you’d feel. The reality hits harder than a slap, and before your mind can catch up to your body, your feet are already moving, silent, quick, out the door.

Your husband. With her.

The woman he’d been seeing for months. The one you knew about. From his work. The one he swore wouldn’t ever step foot in your bedroom.

But she had. They had.

The rules didn’t matter now.

You can barely remember how you made it out of the house, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs. You don’t stop to think. You just grab your coat and rush outside, the cold air stinging your cheeks. You get on the bus, not thinking clearly or caring about anything other than getting away.

Away to the last place that felt safe.

Seonghwa opens the door looking completely confused in a loose hoodie and gray sweatpants, as if he’s been lounging or about to sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, his face soft with surprise, but when he sees you standing there, shaking and crying, everything about him changes.

His eyes widens, his body tensing as if his instincts slammed into overdrive.

“Hey-..hey, what’s going on?” His voice cracks a little, pure concern bleeding through. “Are you-, are you okay? What happened?” He barely waits for an answer before stepping forward, one hand reaching out like he’s afraid to startle you, the other already pulling the door wider. “Come in. Come here. Please.”

You don’t even remember how you’d made it to his place. You didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even know where else to go. You are just… there. Your legs moved on their own. He gently takes your wrist, guiding you inside like he thought you might fall apart if he let go. And maybe you would.

“I-I didn’t know where else to go,” you whisper, your voice trembling so much the words barely came out. “I walked in and they were… in the bedroom. Our bedroom. I heard her, and him-”

Your breath hitched. The shame, the heartbreak, the betrayal all crashed into you again like a tidal wave. Seonghwa freeze, his face shifting from confusion to something like disbelief, followed by an ache so deep it flickered across his features before he could hide it.

“You’re shaking,” he breathes, like that was the only thing he could focus on to keep himself from doing something rash. “Gosh-, come here.”

Then he pulls you in. Not tentative. Not gentle like before. But firm. Warm. Protective. His arms wrap around you completely, hands cradling the back of your head, the middle of your back, holding you like he was trying to piece you back together with just his embrace.

You broke.

The sob that escaped you was raw, tearing through your chest as you collapsed against him. His hoodie quickly dampened with your tears, but he didn’t care. He only held you tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, over and over again, his voice thick, arms unyielding. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

A few hours passed. The silence of the apartment is heavy, and the soft hum of the city outside filters in through the windows, but none of it seems to matter. Seonghwa sits on the edge of the couch, his gaze fixed on you as you sleep, curled up with a blanket around you. Seonghwa didn’t move you. He wouldn’t dare. Your face is peaceful now, but he knows, he saw the remnants of the tears still streaked on your cheeks.

He watches you for a long moment, longer than he should have, just to be sure you were breathing easy, that your face wasn’t tight with the pain you’d carried in. He adjust the blanket around your shoulders once more, fingers brushing your arm like a silent promise: I’m here.

Then he slips away into the kitchen.

The lights are dim. He doesn’t turn on the overheads. Only the small one above the sink cast a quiet glow, painting gold over the counter and the delicate steam curling from the mug of tea he never ended up drinking.

He cleans slowly. Methodically. Not because there is much to clean, but because he needs to do something with his hands. He needs to focus on anything but the image of you curled on his couch with your cheeks still damp from crying. Something about seeing you so hurt, so vulnerable in his home, keeps his chest tight and his thoughts moving. He wants to be nearby, just in case you wake up and need him. 

He didn’t know what to do when you broke. His instinct was to hold you, to gather you up and shelter you from everything, but he’d hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to, but because he didn’t know if it was what you needed.

You are still married. Still healing. Still so fragile it makes his chest ache.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about how you came here. To him. Not a friend. Not a hotel. Him.

What did that mean?

What could it mean?

He’s still standing at the sink, drying his hands on a dish towel, when he hears the soft shuffle of your footsteps behind him. You’re quiet, hesitant, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. Sleep clinging to your features, eyes puffy, hair slightly mussed, your voice rough when you speak.

“Seonghwa?”

He turns once.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, barely looking at him. “For just… showing up. For staying. I didn’t mean to take up your whole night.”

Seonghwa sets the tea towel down gently and shakes his head “You didn’t take anything,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he says it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather have you.

“I feel ridiculous,” you say quietly, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. “Showing up here. Crying like that. Falling asleep like a mess on your couch.”

Seonghwa looks up from the sink where he’s rinsing a cup, then reaches for the towel draped nearby to dry it. He moves slowly, deliberately, as if not to startle you. “You’re not a mess,” he says. “You’re human. And tonight was… a lot. You shouldn’t have had to hear that. Especially not in your own home.”

You nod once, lips press tight, your eyes tracing the pattern of the granite countertop.

“I guess I just didn’t expect it to hurt like that,” you whisper. “I agreed to this open marriage, I knew what it meant. All he had to do was follow the simple rules we made; let the other person know when you’re dating someone and don’t bring them into the bedroom. But hearing them like that… it was like everything I’d been pretending not to feel came crashing in.”

He steps a little closer, still drying the mug but slowing as he listens.

You look up at him then, eyes glassy. “I didn’t mean to bring it all here.”

“You didn’t bring anything but yourself,” he says, voice softer now. “And for what it’s worth… I’m glad you came. I’ve only seen you a few times, but I-” He hesitated, then smiled faintly, “I wouldn’t have wanted you to go anywhere else tonight.”

Your chest tightens. Something in his words, his expression, the way he stands there drying a cup like it was the only way he can keep his hands from holding you.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” he adds, glancing down at the towel in his hand, placing the cup on the counter. “But when I saw you at my door, I didn’t feel interrupted. I felt relieved.” he huffs a quiet breath, laughing under it, ”I didn’t want anyone else to be the one you went to. Is that selfish? Maybe. But—”

He didn’t get to finish.

The towel was halfway folded in his hands when you moved.

Three fast steps.

Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down before he could process what was happening, and you kissed him.

Hard. Needy. Quietly desperate.

You needed to. You needed to feel if this was more than just you feeling crazy. Could you really find safety in someone who isn’t your husband? How could this man you’ve met 3 times the past two weeks, be the most thoughtful and supportive person in your life at the moment?

The towel slips from his hand, landing forgotten on the kitchen floor. He kisses you back like it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands finding your cheeks, pulling you close without hesitation. The warmth of him spreads through you instantly, grounding, solid, safe.

You don’t speak.

Neither does he.

Not until the kiss breaks, just enough for breath.

“I…” you whisper, suddenly unsure.

He smiles, gently, almost in disbelief. “You caught me off guard.” He’s smiling, eyes warm, his thumb brushing your side like he can’t stop touching you now that he’s started. 

“I don’t know why I did that,” you whisper, nervous now, terrified he might say it was too soon. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m really glad you did it.” His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with hunger, and you can feel the weight of his desire pressing against you, but there was hesitation, just a flicker of it.

You mumble the words, barely loud enough for either of you to hear. “Is this... too fast?”

A beat passed. Then another. 

“No,” he says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Not if it’s you. Not if you’re the one reaching for me.”

Your breath catches, the lump in your throat returning. Not from grief this time, but from something gentler. Something like hope. 

“You set the pace. I’ll follow.”

And he means it. Every word.

You reach for him again, pulling him in. The kiss is firmer this time, your lips claiming his with more urgency, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as if you couldn’t get close enough. He groans into your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist, as if holding you in place is the only thing keeping him from losing control.

Your hands slid by the hem of his shirt, fingertips barely grazing over his warm skin, and you feel him tense beneath your touch. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Fuck,” he rasp. “I’m barely holding on.”

“Good,” you whisper, and lean up to kiss him again.

His hands are on your waist, his grip tight, but there is still a slight hesitation in him. It’s as if he was torn between wanting to be the good guy, wanting to respect your boundaries, and the overwhelming, suffocating need to give in to everything you’re offering. His lips meet yours again, deeper this time, and the kiss is frantic, hungry, as though he can’t get close enough, can’t touch you enough.

You barely register your back hitting the edge of the kitchen island until his hands curl under your thighs and lift you effortlessly. You gasp, startled by the sudden motion, but his strength… the ease of it, the way he settles you gently onto the counter like you’re precious, it makes you shiver.

You wrap your legs around his hips instantly, locking your heels at the small of his back, and it pushes him in deeper, his length perfectly aligned with the ache between your legs.

The moment your bodies aligned, you both gasped.

You feel him.

Thick and full and undeniably hard, straining against the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants. He’s pressed right against your center, the outline of him so vivid you can practically trace it with your eyes.

You gasp. He curses. 

“I can see you,” you whisper, voice wrecked, eyes flicking down to where his sweatpants clung to him, every thick inch outlined and throbbing. “You’re so hard.”

He lets out a strangled groan. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that-”

You can't help but grind once against his member, and you whimper as his hips rolled forward, slow and deep. His cock drags up the seam of your heat, the head catching perfectly where your clit throbs. It’s too much and not enough. The layers between you only made it worse.

He feels you. Wet, warm, pressed against the inside of your panties, where your thin leggings clings like a second skin, doing nothing to hide how badly you want him. His mouth crashes onto yours, and it was different this time, no hesitation, no restraint. Just teeth and tongue and desperation. Your hands were in his hair now, tugging, dragging him closer. He presses against you, hard enough to make you moan, and God, you feel him, thick, hard, straining against his pants.

But something occupies your mind.

“Wait,” You keep your legs wrapped around him. You don’t let go. Immediately, he stills. His breathing ragging, chest rising and falling against yours. His hands are warm on your thighs where they rest, thumbs rubbing soft, slow circles into your skin like he’s grounding you. His forehead presses gently against yours, both of you still catching your breath. 

“I want to,” you admitted, your voice wrecked. “So bad. But I need… I need to say it first. To him.”

Him. Your Husband.

For the first time in months, you hated that your husband was in your mind right now. 

His gaze lifts to yours instantly, and for a second, you brace yourself for disappointment. But it never comes.

He nods. “I know,” he pulls back and kisses your forehead. “Just because he broke your rules does not mean you should do it too.” He’s way quicker to understand than you’ve ever imagined. He’s too good.

“I’m sorry… I really want to.” You say, finding his eyes. “But I feel like I have to tell him that I’m seeing someone, let alone his boss, before I do something.”

“Hey,” he cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, the warmest eyes you’ve ever met. “You don’t have to explain, I totally understand.”

You try smiling but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. “It’s not you. I’m just not in the right headspace, and if we did this right now, I think I’d just… think too much. Regret it. Not because of you! But because of everything else.”

“I know,” he says gently, brushing your hair back with a touch that’s nothing short of reverent. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. If you want to do this or not. Whatever you end up deciding, I’ll respect. But if you decide you want to do this, with me sometime, I don’t want you to feel any pressure. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll wait for you.”

And God. That. That is the thing. He isn’t demanding. He isn’t jealous. He isn’t angry or annoyed or trying to guilt you into a decision.

He just understand.

“You’re kind,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You’re really fucking kind.” 

A silence fills the space between you, your gaze dropping down to where your bodies meet. You look up at him, cheeks flushed. “If I hadn’t said stop… would you have?”

His eyes darkens. He smile, not cocky. But honest.

“Not a chance in hell.” The weight behind those words makes your chest ache. “Can I do anything for you?” 

You glance down at yourself, then let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I probably need a shower. I look like someone who lost a fight to her own life.”

He grins at that, easing back just enough to slide his hands to your waist. Before you can say another word, he’s lifting you down from the counter with a firm but gentle grip, like you’re something precious, and threading his fingers through yours.

“Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you softly. “Shower. I’ll get everything ready.”

You trail behind him to the bathroom, your hand still tucked in his. He moves around the space with practiced ease, grabbing towels, adjusting the water, and even laying out the same sweatpants and oversized t-shirt you wore the last time you were here.

When he places them carefully on the counter, he gives you one last glance, warm and soft. “Take your time, your clothes are on the counter. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

You nod, suddenly overwhelmed in a completely different way. “Seonghwa?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at you.

“Thank you. For… not making this weird.”

His smile is soft, patient. “It’s not weird. It’s okay.”

A few minutes later, you’re still in his bathroom, the warmth of the steam and the quiet hum of the fan giving you a moment to breathe. To be alone and let the water rinse some of it away. Not the pain of today, but the weight of it, just for a moment.

You change into the familiar sweatpants and soft T-shirt he left folded neatly by the sink. They still smell like him. When you open the door again, the hallway’s dim, and the softest light glows from the living room. 

He’s sitting on the couch, one arm resting over the back, a blanket already draped across the cushions, like he’s been preparing your little corner of the world for you. 

“Perfect timing,” he says, patting the space beside him with a grin that’s equal parts teasing and gentle. “I was about to start a movie without you and pretend I didn’t.”

You laugh, your heart lighter already. And as you cross the room and curl into his side beneath the blanket, it’s not the movie that matters. It’s the feeling that you’re safe here, with him.

And for the first time in a long time, that’s more than enough.

***

The boardroom is quiet when Seonghwa walks in the next day.

He’s always early, by design. It gives him time to breathe, to set the tone, to sit at the head of the glass table with everything already in place. His laptop is open, a black pen lined up perfectly beside his notepad, and his eyes skim the agenda, though he already knows it. But his focus isn’t on the day’s schedule.

Not yet.

It’s still on you.

Not the way you looked when you walked into his apartment yesterday. Exhausted, crying, your whole body weighed down by things you hadn’t said yet, but the way you looked curled up against him hours later, asleep on his couch, tucked into his side beneath a blanket like you’d always belonged there.

You had cried. You had kissed him. You had let him hold you. He’d kissed the crown of your head.

And he didn’t sleep much that night.

Not because you didn’t let him, if anything, you were warm and quiet, breathing slow against him. It was the way you felt in his arms that kept him awake. Like he was holding something fragile and sacred. Like if he moved, even slightly, you might disappear.

In the morning, you stirred first. Groggy and quiet, blinking sleepily against his chest before murmuring something about needing to go home and change before work. He offered to take the day off. Said he could cancel everything. That he didn’t care.

But you shook your head with a tiny smile. Insisted that he go.

You even teased him for hovering. Called him “overly attentive.” He’d rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but when you leaned in and kissed him goodbye, soft and sleepy, he nearly asked you to stay.

But you left. And he watched the door long after it closed behind you.

Now he’s here. Under sterile lighting. A boardroom full of chatter. And across the table sits the man who used to be your husband in everything but legality.

He walked in laughing - with her - like it’s just another Thursday. The girlfriend is practically attached to him, all smiles and subtle touches, like they don’t work under the same roof. Like they’re not sneaking around as if people haven’t noticed. Seonghwa doesn’t look up immediately. Just lets his fingers tap softly against the side of his coffee cup. 

Measured. Calm. Focused.

“Morning,” your husband says with that too-casual tone, like everything’s perfectly fine.

“Morning,” Seonghwa replies, flat and cool.

He doesn’t do anger like most people. It simmers quietly in him, contained, controlled. He doesn’t lash out. He remembers. He watches. He files things away until the time is right.

Today’s not the day.

But he is watching.

The meeting starts. The others file in, small talk filling the space. Projector humming, documents shuffling. Seonghwa opens the presentation. Keeps his voice even.

“I’d like to keep today’s meeting brief,” he says, voice smooth and low. “We’re focusing on timelines, project deliverables, and accountability.”

His gaze flicks to your husband. The pause is barely a second too long. “Especially accountability.”

There's a flicker in the man’s expression. He shifts in his seat, coughs once like he’s about to make a joke, but one look from Seonghwa shuts him down. The meeting ticks forward. 

Then your husband speaks up.

“I think the delay in deliverables came down to a lack of communication, not really our fault,” he says, flashing a grin at his girlfriend like she’ll have his back.

She does.

But Seonghwa is already leaning forward, calm but sharp. “And who was responsible for communicating that timeline to the vendors?”

Silence.

Your husband clears his throat. “Well… technically, I was. But-”

“Then let’s not redirect blame.” Seonghwa’s voice doesn’t rise. It never needs to. “If you were the lead, you’re accountable. End of story.”

The table goes quiet. The girlfriend shifts awkwardly. And your husband, he looks like he wants to argue but doesn’t dare.

Good.

Seonghwa could say more. So much more. He could talk about how you came to him last night after being ignored for months. How you told him things you never said to anyone. How you almost gave yourself to him. How you let him hold you, warm you, kiss you, keep you safe. How you fell asleep against him like he was the only place you felt okay.

He could say how he’s never going to forgive this man for not seeing you. For making you feel small. For letting you cry alone in your kitchen while he flirted with someone new on the clock.

But Seonghwa keeps it inside.

He lets the meeting run its course. Makes his points. Keeps his composure. Because no one knows what you are to him.

Yet.

And when it’s finally over, he gathers his papers slowly. Closes his laptop with care. And doesn’t look back once.

Because there’s something about seeing that man across from him, pretending like he still owns your heart, when Seonghwa knows what it feels like to have you kiss him good morning, in nothing but his hoodie, after a night of quiet healing.

He’s not done protecting you.

And your husband? He doesn’t even realize he already lost.

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx @lveegsoi  @vixensss  @yizhou-time  @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry @hannahstacos

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 3

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 3 Tsumsitters (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland 3 Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 810 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The request also includes Jamil's and Silver's tsums, but I wrote them before part 3 was even announced on the JP server. In other words, I had to pretty much guess what their tsums would be like, but now I could write them more accurately.

And I ended up get carried away writing Vil's and Idia's parts. 😅

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

CONTEXT: Like the original Twisted Tsumderland 3 event, this takes place after the events of the first and second Twisted Tsumderland. And, surprise, your Tsum is back! But it’s the only one, all the other Tsums that came with it are completely new visitors.

Just like the other times, your Tsum seemed restless and wanted to leave Ramshackle Dorm, probably to go look for the other tsums. You decide to take a walk around the school building first and you notice a gathering in the cafeteria.

“If you give it devoted, loving care, I'm sure it'd be willing to show its gratitude!” You hear Ace's voice say from behind a wall of other students.

You come closer, with your tsum in your arms.

“So... Who wants to look after the tsum?!”

“I'll do it!” a Scarabia student offers.

“What are you talking about?” A Pomefiore student counterposes. “That's gonna be me!”

And an argue begins. You stand on your tiptoes and crane your neck to look over some students' shoulders and see an Ace-tsum on the table.

“Okay, easy, guys. You can all take turns trying your hand at looking after it.” Ace interrupts. “If things go well, you might get to see more tricks. And hey, if they don't do any, you can just return it tonight.”

Even though you know this is about Ace and his tsum, you can't help but feel a little sorry for the things Ace is saying. It's like he just wants to get rid of his tsum. Poor little guy. And your tsum agrees.

“I can take care of it!” Your voice rings out, Ace and Deuce recognizing it immediately.

The students in front of you turn and see that you have another tsum in your arms. They make way for you while commenting on how cute it is.

“(Y/N)?!” Ace and Deuce say in unison.

You lean over to look at Ace-tsum who is looking at you with bright, surprised eyes. You say you can take care of it since Ace doesn't want to. Your tsum jumps from your arms to Ace-tsum's side. You add that you have your tsum to help you supervise it and that you already have some experience with an Ace. He blushes a little.

“Wait (Y/N)!” Deuce says.“This is supposed to be Ace and my task. And you already have your tsum to take care of.”

“Don't worry, Deuce. We both can take care of it. Right, Tsum?” Your Tsum agrees and rubs its cheek against Ace-Tsum's cheek. “Better us than someone who treats it like a burden.” But Ace-tsum moves away from your tsum and Ace grabs your arm to pull you with him to talk to you alone.

“You dummy!” He tells you in a lower voice. “Listen, I'm not just trying to get rid of my tsum, okay?! I'm trying to find someone who adores it so much that they would love to fawn over it and take care of it. This will be better than being with someone who is only taking care of it out of obligation.”

You ask, then, why can't you take care of his tsum.

“Because I was trying to get some idiot to do it, not you!”

Then you hear and see that more students have joined the group that fawns over Ace-tsum. And it seemed like they were finding something cute?

You two go back to the table and see your tsums having fun with each other. Ace-tsum was showing magic tricks to your Tsum and seemed happier with your Tsum's surprised reaction than with the students' applause. Your tsum approached Ace-tsum and began to rub their cheeks against each other, like cuddling. Ace blushed again.

“Fine...” Ace gives up. “It seems like it wants to be with your tsum anyway.”

“Why don't we all take care of the tsums together again?” Deuce suggests, “Like we did when mine was here.”

You and your tsum agree.

“Yeah, I guess we can do that.” Ace says, then smirks. “At least now I can split the work between three.”

Surprisingly, Ace's Tsum is much calmer when it's around your Tsum. In addition to being extremely affectionate with your Tsum, it also seems to really enjoy impressing it with magic tricks and things like that. As if it loved having your tsum's attention and affection back, completely ignoring Ace's embarrassment.

Your tsum wanted to go somewhere, so you pick it up and let it guide you out of Ramshackle Dorm. You pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors. Your tsum wants you to cross the mirror to Heartslabyul.

You do so, enter the building and you end up crossing paths with Trey in the hallway. He was carrying a cake container. You feel your tsum move slightly in your arms when it sees him.

“Hello (Y/N).” Trey greets you. “I see your tsum is back.” He smiles at it and you feel it move again. “This time one similar to me showed up too, so I'm also tsumsitting. I assume you're here to see it.” He chuckles seeing you and your tsum nodding. “It is in the lounge. But before that.” He opens the cake container revealing a beautiful cake with icing and grapes decorating it, and some slices already missing. “Do you want to try a slice? Tsum decorated it.”

If you like grapes, he will be happy to see you eating a slice. If you don't like them and are sad because you would like to try the cake, He will suggest that you go to the kitchen and take out just one piece that doesn't have grapes for you to taste.

“Here.” He says taking just a forkful of the icing cake. “This one doesn't have grapes.” He holds out the fork with the piece of cake in your direction.

You can take the fork and eat it yourself or you can eat it while he holds the fork. If you do this last one, he will laugh and then smirk slightly. Independently of what you do, you'll feel your tsum moving in your arms again, but not enthusiastically.

Trey asks if everything is okay with your tsum and you answer that it might be sad because it can't taste the cake, after all tsum don't eat.

“Oh, don't worry.” He says to your tsum with a sweet smile. “You liking the way it looks is good enough already.”

Your tsum makes that happy tsum sound and suddenly jumps out of your arms towards Trey who catches it and you see it nestling in his arms.

“Ha ha ha. Your tsum is more cheeky than mine. No, that's not a bad thing. I find it quite cute actually.”

If you are more outgoing, your tsum will make that happy sound again and smile at him with its eyes. If you are shy, your tsum will shrink a little and hide its face in his arms.

He will, happily, carry your Tsum in his arms to the lounge where his Tsum and other students are, but when the three of you get there...

“Is everyone done? I'll get the dishes - uh...” Trey and you see what appears to be his tsum attacking students with a toothbrush. “What’s going on here?”

Cater explains the whole madness with Tsum wanting everyone to brush their teeth. Trey ends up taking his Tsum's side and the students run to brush their teeth. Cater tries to apologize by saying that it took him longer to eat and even tries to say that he wanted to spend some time with your tsum. But it's no use, both Treys look at him with a menacing smile.

“Ah, I'm sorry! I swear I'll brush therm! Don't come near me with that smile on your face!” And he leaves the lounge as well.

Only Riddle, you, Trey and your two tsums remain. Trey-tsum points his toothbrush at you with that smile.

“Let's give (Y/N) a pass this time.” Trey defends you. “They are from another dorm so their toothbrush and toothpaste are not here.”

Trey-tsum lowers the toothbrush in agreement. Your Tsum jumps out of Trey's arms and lands next to his Tsum. They both make a happy sound and the two begin to rub their cheeks against each other as if cuddling.

“Your tsum is very affectionate, isn't it?” Trey comments with a smile.

Trey-tsum jumps onto your shoulder, presses its face against your cheek as if it were giving you a kiss, and jumps back to your tsum’s side. Then the two jump onto one of the sofas and snuggle up together as if they were nesting.

“How cute.” Riddle comments with a slightly mocking smile seeing Trey blush.

You were taking a walk around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you heard Jack's voice calling you.

“Hey (Y/N), glad I found you.” Jack says. You turn around and he sees your Tsum in your arms who greets him smiling with its eyes. “Your tsum is back? So you should already know that other tsums have appeared too.”

You say you had already assumed that and ask if he was looking for you.

“More or less. The truth is that I was looking for someone who could help Ruggie with his tsum.”

You feel your tsum move in your arms when it hears Ruggie's name. Jack tells you that everything seemed to be going well between them until they started arguing, or rather fighting over the money they earned. Your tsum has the same reaction as you, probably an unsurprised sigh.

You agree to help and go with Jack to Savanaclaw. You find Ruggie and his tsum in the lounge fighting with each other. Riggie has an envelope in his outstretched hand trying to get it away from the tsum, while the tsum jumps at Ruggie to try to get to the envelope while hitting him.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and sneaks up on them while they are focused on fighting each other. When it is close enough, it prepares itself and as soon as it sees an opening, it jumps and takes the envelope from Ruggie's hands. Then it runs to you with the envelope where its mouth would be and jumps back into your arms, handing you the envelope.

Ruggie looked at your tsum and you with the most threatening look you've ever seen on him, until he realized it was you and his expression changed drastically and his ears went down. His Tsum's reaction was the same. He even stutters your name in surprise.

“And h-hey, your tsum is back!” He tries to divert the conversation and ease the situation.

You don't fall for that and ask why they were fighting over the money. Ruggie explained to you that he still tried to give 20% to his Tsum since it doesn't need money to eat or things like that and that's why it seemed fair to him. But his tsum didn't like the idea and was trying to keep most of the money.

You ask your own tsum if that money is the same as in the tsum world, basically asking if it would be of any use to Ruggie-tsum, and your tsum shakes its head no.

“See?! It's not even any use to you. And I would be generous enough to give you twenty percent.”

Ruggie's tsum turns against him again, your tsum jumps out of your arms and throws itself at Ruggie-stum, hitting it. But it doesn't hit your tsum to retaliate, instead it tucks its tail between its legs and lowers its ears while your tsum seems to scold it.

Ruggie laughs at that situation and approaches you asking, also with his ears down and his tail between his legs, if you could give him back the envelope. But you reveal that, knowing him, you knew that he was not taking care of the tsum, but rather taking advantage of it to earn more money with its work.

“Hey, The tsum was the one who wanted to work for m- I mean with me. We earned that money by working together by choice.”

“So why not split it fifty-fifty?” You suggest.

“WHAT?! Are you cra-”

“If one of you worked as hard as the other then you deserve the same amount, don't you?”

He tries to bargain by reiterating that Tsums don't need to eat, but you continue the discussion saying that if it's not like that they won't stop fighting and it will never be resolved. If Ruggie keeps rejecting ot, your tsum will throw itself at his head to hit him. And then he will finally give in and split the money 50-50.

After that your tsum will convince Ruggie-tsum to just rest with it, trying to push it onto one of the lounge chairs. But instead Ruggie-tsum seemed to want to play with your tsum and the two of them started play fighting like two cubs. Which ends up looking more like they are hugging and cuddling.

Ruggie comments that despite what happened they seem to really like each other. After playing with each other for a while, Ruggie-tsum will come over to you to see if it can get some petting from you for being so cute. And if so, it'll turn over on its back so you can give it belly rubs. Ruggie will tell you that you're spoiling his tsum while trying not to show that he's jealous.

You find out that a Tsum similar to Jamil has appeared and is with him in Scarabia by crossing paths with Kalim while you were taking a walk with your Tsum around the school campus. Needless to say, Kalim was super happy to see your tsum again.

On the way to Scarabia you could feel the enthusiasm of your tsum. When you arrive, Jamil and his tsum are in the lounge playing a card game.

The two Jamils realize that someone has entered the lounge. They look at whoever has entered just to greet them, but as soon as they see that it is you, they both smile.

“Hello (Y/N). I see your tsum is back.”

Your tsum jumps from your arms and approaches Jamil's tsum. When it gets close enough, they brush each other's cheeks. Jamil blushes and pulls his hood a little tighter.

They will finish the game they were playing and then invite you and your tsum to play with them. You will play against your tsum, Jamil will teach you and his tsum will teach your tsum while you both play. Jamil will try to make you win, while Jamil-tsum is trying to make your tsum win. And perhaps for this reason, he teaches you by whispering in your ear so that the tsums don't hear your plays. Even if you don't win, Jamil will say that you played well and will be happy that you understood how to play.

You play two or three more times. Whenever you or your tsum win, it's because Jamil and his tsum agreed to lose to see you both happy. But in the last round Jamil-tsum climbs onto your lap while your tsum goes onto Jamil's lap. Thus forming pairs for the last round.

While Jamil-tsum helps you with the best moves, Jamil asks your tsum for its opinion with a cute smile. They both know that your tsum can't help him win, but he enjoys interacting with it in the same way he enjoys interacting with you.

The two teams end up tied. There is a good chance that the bouth Jamils planned this result.

You were going to get up so Jamil could prepare something for the two of you to have a snack, when you heard something. The sound of an insect coming in and cetting closer to you. Jamil jumps and runs to the door leaving your tsum behind while his tsum uses you to hide. You feel it trembling against you. The insect lands on one of your cards and you see that it is a... little ladybug.

If your reaction is something like, ‘Aww, a cute ladybug.’ Jamil will complain, outraged.

You ask Jamil to bring you some jar with a lid with holes and leaves inside. When he asks you what for, you say that you're going to put the ladybug inside and release it in Ramshackle Dorm's garden. He thinks you're crazy but that's okay as long as you lock that thing up and take it away. He brings you an empty spice jar with two leaves inside. You ask if they are poisonous plants, he sighs and says no. You smell the leaves and they seem normal.

The ladybug was on your finger, you open the jar to put it inside but it flies back towards Jamil who screams and runs away again. When the ladybug returns, it goes after Jamil-tsum, who also starts to run away through the lounge. The ladybug finally lands on your tsum's head and the two of you put the insect in the jar and close it. You tell Jamil it's done.

When he comes back, you try your best to contain your laughter as you remember him running away from a ladybug, but he notices your little smile and looks at you sullenly, despite thanking you.

Something similar seems to happen with the tsums, but your tsum dosen't contain its laughter and Jamil-tsum attacks it with what appears to be tickles. After your tsum surrenders the two seem to start cuddling each other.

Jamil is embarrassed by this and pulls his hood even further to hide his blushing face.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you arrived at the Courtyard. A group of Pomefiore students focused on photographing something separated you from Vil and Rook on the other side. You and your tsum noticed that they were photographing Vil's tsum, and it seemed to be enjoying the photoshoot itself.

Your tsum jumps from your arms to the ground and tries to pass between the feet of some students to get closer to Vil-tsum. But those students notice something moving near them and look down at your tsum.

“Aw, it's another tsum.” One of the students says.

“Yeah, but this one doesn't look like anything special.” Another student comments.

“In fact, it looks so ordinary.” A third student agrees. “Could you please not interfere with Vil's Tsum photos?”

Your tsum still tried to advance a little further, but the students stopped it by putting their feet in its way. And even if you were complaining, they didn't care, they were in the middle of a photo shoot, the staff and spectators shouldn't interfere.

“Listen, if your tsum was half as beautiful as Vil's tsum we might still consider it, but I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.”

With this, your tsum becomes too sad to keep trying and returns depressed to you. It doesn't even jump into your arms, you have to bend down and pick it up.

Meanwhile, the photo shoot stops abruptly and you hear some students say: “What's wrong?”, “Why do you want to stop suddenly?”, “Did we do something wrong?”, “Have we crossed boundaries?”

You see the students in front of you make way for Vil's tsum. When it sees you, its eyes shine, but when it sees your tsum, sad and curled up in your arms it gets upset and turns aggressively towards the students.

They realize that the tsum is upset with them for insulting your tsum, but it doesn't know which one was and they start saying it was the other one.

“You're the one who said it didn't look like anything special!”

“’In fact, it looks so ordinary.’ that's what YOU said”

“And who said their tsum wasn't even half as beautiful as Vil's tsum?”

“At least have the decency to admit your rudeness.” Vil appears, also unpleased, and with Rook beside him. “None of you have the right to decide who can or cannot approach the tsum. It is the one who decides who deserves such a privilege.”

“What a disappointment to have dormmates with such little tolerance for other unique types of beauty.” Rook says sadly. “And so insensitive too. ‘I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.’ Which of you has the courage to claim such a phrase?” Rook looks at the three main suspects with an amused smile but a menacing look.

Both Vil and his tsum got angry upon hearing this.

“It was him!” The other two pointed to the culprit.

“It is also quite ugly to denounce someone so shamelessly.” Vil rebuked them and clapped his hands decisively twice. “The photo shoot is over. Go back to your duties. And the three of you have a meeting scheduled with me later in the Pomefiore dorm. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Housewarden. We regret our words.”

“I sure hope you do. But that won't lessen your punishment. You may go now.”

As the Pomefiore students leave, the others glaring at the three who insulted your tsum, Vil-tsum turns back to you and jumps into your arms, knowing that you would catch it. It cuddles up to your tsum as if it were comforting it, rubbing their cheeks and giving it kisses, or at least that's what it seemed like since tsum don't have mouths.

“How can they belittle such a demonstration of love and such a beautiful couple!” Rook says dramatically. “Je suis choqué!”

When you start having trouble holding two tsums at once, Vil approaches you and puts his arms around yours to help you.

“I am deeply sorry for the atrocities you heard.” He tells you in a soft voice but then smiled smugly. “You can help me think of an appropriate punishment if you like.”

Knowing that you were having difficulty holding them, your tsums end up jumping from your embrace to the ground. Your tsum still looks a little sad and Vil's tsum doesn't take its attention away from your tsum.

“Don't listen to them.” Vil says to your tsum. “Just because you don't fit their standards doesn't mean you're not beautiful. You should only care about the opinion of those who you really care about and who care about you.” He looks at you. “They are right about one thing, you two look ordinary.” He will smile in amusement if you look at him sulkily. “But who said that was ugly? The beauty of the ordinary is the most difficult to perceive, only those who truly recognize it deserve to appreciate it. And if you want to know my opinion, two extraordinary things become flashy, but one common thing brings balance and harmony. The kind of thing whose value and importance you only realize when it disappears.” He looks back at your tsum. “Don't listen to the opinions of ignorant people.”

Rook was crying with emotion and murmured how beautiful that moment had been. Your tsum, also moved by his words, jumps into Vil's arms. He almost got a fright, but he caught your tsum.

“*sigh* How cheeky.” Vil said, smiling softly. He holds your tsum as if he were holding a beloved baby.

Vil-tsum approaches you calmly, with an aura of dignity and sophistication. You lower yourself, kneeling on the ground and it climbs onto your lap. Like a cat demanding in the way you pet it.

Vil-tsum won't let anyone else take a picture of it unless they want to take a picture of it and your tsum together. If your tsum is too shy and doesn't want to take pictures, then Vil-tsum will also refuse.

Vil's tsum will try to convince him to give you and your tsum a beauty treatment. And if it doesn't succeed the first time, he'll steal Vil's cosmetics for your tsum. But since it's you, Vil ends up accepting.

Vil will have to keep an eye on Rook because he will become obsessed with your tsums together.

Your tsum was restless in Ramshackle Dorm and seemed to want to go somewhere. You picked it up and let it lead you out of the dorm. Your tsum made you pass through the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop until you reached the Hall of Mirrors, where it made you pass through the mirror that lead to Ignihyde. Once inside it doesn't take long for Ortho to appear to greet you.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He looks at the tsum in your arms. “Oh! You're back too. It's great to see you again! Are you here because of my big brother's tsum?”

And now you know why your tsum wanted to go there. Your tsum nods its little head. Ortho doesn't even bother to tell you where they are because they can only be in one place, but he says he'll have to leave because of the meeting with the Film Research Club and wishes you luck in dealing with his brother and his tsum. You go to Idia's room and knock on the door.

“Ortho? Did you forget something?” Idea asks instead of opening the door.

“No. It's me, (Y/N).”

He stammers your name in surprise. “W-w-w-what are you doing here?!”

You explain that your tsum was the one who took you to Ignihyde and that Ortho told you that an Idia lookalike had also appeared. Suddenly you hear a commotion inside the room and Idia asking in panic what it was doing.

The bedroom door opens. You see Idia lying on the floor in the middle of the room and in front of you an Idia-tsum staring at you. When your eyes meet his, his own sparkle and the blue in his hair takes on pink hues at the tips.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and lands right on top of Idia-tsum. What no one expected, not even your tsum, was that Idia-tsum's reflex would be to take advantage of this to take your tsum, as if kidnapping it, to a kind of fortress made of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room.

“Welcome to the club.” Idia tells you as he stands up. “It also kidnapped my tablet. Now it has two captives.”

As soon as you enter, the door closes behind you again. You go to the cardboard boxes, kneel down and look inside. You see, through a gap in the boxes, the two tsums very close together playing a co-op game on the tablet.

“S-sorry about that.” Idia tells you embarrassed. “I can't get along with this tsum. I've been trying to get my tablet back for hours but it is so stubborn. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You think about it and say that if they stay calm like that until it's time for them to go back to their world, there shouldn't be any problems, right?

“OF COURSE THERE IS! MY LOGIN BONUSES! Why do you think I'm trying to get my tablet back?! Listen, I don't care what the tsums do as long as they don't cause me any problems or interfere with my games. And this tsum manages to do both. My room wasn't this disorganized before, but it keeps fighting me. You're good with delinquents, help me!”

If your tsum is really like you, it wants to get Idia-tsum out of those cardboard boxes like you want to get Idia out of his room. Which means if you have an idea you know your tsum will help you. You think about that co-op games and how Idia can be competitive when he believes he have a good chance of winning. Aka: in video games.

So you have an idea, but to do so you have to whisper the idea in the Idia's ear so the tsums don't hear. When you get closer he gets flustered. You suggest playing a 2 vs 2 game and invite the tsums to play, and encourages him to be as provocative as possible to ensure that his tsum accepts the challenge.

“And then what?" He whispers back to you "We'll have to entertain it while I get the tablet back.”

“I can handle that part.” you guarantee him.

You both follow the plan, luckily Idia has 4 controllers, probably because they are all different models. At first, Idia-tsum doesn't fall into the trap, but soon Idia's smugness kicks in

“Of course you don't accept the challenge. You don't even have opposing thumbs, how could you beat us?” The boxes move. “Or is it because you're a noob?” The boxes move again and it looks like Idia has an idea for the ultimate strike. “Oh, I see, it’s because your teammate is a normie who sucks at games.”

One of the boxes jumps like a spring and almost hits Idia in the face, as if whatever was underneath it had exploded. Idia-tsum jumps towards one of the controls with an irritated look and his hair completely red. Idia himself gives one of those scared YEPs, but for some reason he smiles when he sees that reaction from his tsum.

Your tsum jumps to the other controller next to Idia-tsum who looks at it and waves like a true duo preparing for battle. Idia gets prepered beside you and gives you a similar determined smile before he starts the game.

During the fighting game, it was as if Idia had forgotten about his tablet and whenever it seemed like you were having trouble he would get upset on your behalf and defend your character with his. His tsum did the same to your tsum.

It was only at the end of the round that Idia suddenly remembered the tablet and jumped out of his chair to pick it up from the floor next to the cardboard boxes. His tsum did the same thing, but you managed to catch it in time and held it in your arms with a strong hug. It struggled at first, but when it remembered that it was you who was grabbing it, its hair turned completely pink and it covered its eyes with its little hands.

“I collected...”  Idia raises the tablet in his hands. “The Tablet!”

He looks at you with a triumphant smile, but if you are giving his tsum affection and kisses because it’s so cute, the tips of Idia's hair will also turn pink and he will be flustered.

Your tsum will jump right up to his face and give him some affection too, like rubbing its little face against his cheek.

“H-h-h-h-have you never heard of personal space?!”

You were walking with your tsum in your arms around the school campus when Lilia suddenly appeared.

“You're back!” Lilia surprises you and your tsum by appearing upside down in front of you. “Hi (Y/N)-tsum. It's so good to see you again. This is actually perfect.” He turns around and puts his feet on the ground. “You see, a Malleus-like tsum also appeared.” You feel your tsum move happily in your arms. “And Malleus decided to throw a party for it. I was looking for you to invite you, but now that I see that your tsum is back I know that both Malleus would love to have both of you at the party.

Your tsum gets so excited that it almost falls out of your arms.

“Good thing you're excited, because we're already late. Come with me. The party has already started.”

Lilia accompanies you and your tsum to Diasomnia. The lounge is full of Diasomnia students paying attention to Malleus and his tsum. Lilia asks you to follow him down the stairs and when you reach the last step the students in front of you look at you and respectfully make way between you and the two Malleus. Like soldiers taking positions on both sides of the road.

The two Malleus look confused to see what the students were doing and when the two tsums' eyes meet your tsum jumps out of your arms and hops towards Malleus-tsum very quickly. Some of the students (Sebek included) took one step forward to stop your tsum from "attacking" Malleus' tsum, but stop immediately at Lilia's signal.

Malleus-tsum did not move, excitedly waiting for your tsum to reach it. Your tsum did indeed attack Malleus' tsum, but with love and affection. Your tsum gave it a lot of affection and Malleus' tsum simply accepted it with smiling eyes, only occasionally reciprocating the affection. Malleus also looked at your tsum with a special affection in his eyes.

You approached the tsums to get a better look at Malleus’s. It approached you with that dignity that Malleus himself also has, looked at you for a few seconds and bowed. All the other students at Diasmonia suddenly did the same. Even Sebek, although he did so a little reluctantly.

You bowed back and asked if you could pet it. The other students looked at you again with extreme attention and some held their breath. Malleus-tsum pondered, creating suspense in the lounge, but then it made that happy tsum sound and jumped into your arms, super happy. It accepts any and all affection coming from you and it doesn't matter how strong your hug is, just like Malleus his tsum is also extremely strong and resistant.

Meanwhile, your tsum also jumps into Malleus' arms without warning. Hence the students' gasps echoing through the lounge.

“So fearless, jumping towards me like that.” Malleus smiled smugly. “You really don't fear that I might crush you?”

The other students were wary, but your tsum didn't seem to care what he was saying and jumped onto the top of his head, nestling between his two horns. Once again the students gasped in fear. Only Lilia and Silver were calm. Lilia was laughing.

“My liege, please forgive this insulting-” Sebek said, but was quickly interrupted by Malleus's good-natured laughter.

“How cheeky. I wonder who gave you permission to go up there.” He raises his arm to bring his hand closer to your Tsum in his head, touching its little nose affectionately before patting its head.

While you were hugging Malleus-tsum, one of its horns stung your cheek. It immediately stopped and looked at you worriedly when it heard you say ‘ouch’. When it realized it had hurt you, its little eyes watered. You said it was okay, that it hadn't really hurt you, it was just a little sting, you were fine, you hadn't even gotten a mark. But even so, you had to keep comforting it.

After that, Malleus-tsum wanted to dance with you and Malleus with your tsum. You did so. And the next one, the two tsums wanted to dance together. Following this same logic, Malleus invited you to dance.

At the end of the party, when your tsum gets tired, Malleus-tsum will accompany it to you and Malleus who are sitting together. But your tsum will lie on Malleus' lap, and he will pet it lovingly. Likewise, Malleus-tsum will lie down on your lap, even if it is not tired. It is extremely happy for you to pet it.

Malleus laughs happily when your tsum turns over onto its back so he can give it belly rubs.

Malleus-tsum looks at you and Malleus and thinks you're not close enough. It jumps from your lap to your side and gives you a little nudge on the leg with one of its little horns. You jump and lean against Malleus. You apologize, but Malleus still puts an arm around you. And now satisfied, his tsum returns to your lap, which is so close to Malleus' lap that the two tsums can nestle together too.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum, but it got tired of always walking in your arms and now it was jumping around by your side.

You were crossing the bridge that led to the Mystery Shop grounds when your tsum, who was jumping on the edge of the bridge, slipped and fell into the water below you. The current took your tsum to the lake in front of the Hall of Mirrors building, you followed it running. Your tsum managed to grab onto a ledge in the rocks very close to the waterfall.

You didn't know what to do. You couldn't get down there and there was nothing to help you.

But at that moment something jumped into the water near your Tsum, grabbed onto it and grew so big that it was blocking the passage to the waterfall. It was Silver's tsum!

And speaking of him, Silver appears right after and uses his magic to make your tsum levitate and fly back into your arms. But what about his tsum? The water coming from the lake was accumulating and creating more pressure on the tsum.

But the two Silvers seemed to understand each other well and the Tsum quickly returned to its normal size and let itself fall down the waterfall, but Silver managed to use his magic to catch it in the middle of the fall and bring it back to land safe and sound.

Your tsum jumped out of your arms to hug Silver-tsum, who hugged it back, or at least the tsum version of a strong and affectionate hug.

If you do the same to Silver to thank him, he will be surprised at first, but will hug you back gently with a smile on his face.

“I'm glad you and your tsum are safe now.” Silver tells you. “My tsum and I fell asleep nearby. We both woke up to the sound of something falling into the water and your fright.”

Neither your tsum nor silver's tsum wanted to let go of each other.

“Were you heading back to your dorm? We will accompany you.”

He used his magic to dry your tsum and you for grabbing it right after it came out of the water. Your tsums seemed to agree on something and then your tsum jumped into Silver's arms while Silver-tsum jumped into yours. Your tsum was nestling in Silver's arms, while his tsum was on guard and alert to your surroundings.

“I think they want me to protect your tsum while my lookalike protects you.” Silver assumes, placing his arms protectively around your tsum.

You go to Ramshackle Dorm together and as soon as you arrive in the lounge, your two tsums go to the sofa and snuggle up very close. And now in a safe place and next to your tsum, Silver-tsum falls asleep very soundly. Both you and your tsum find it funny how soft he looks when he sleeps so deeply.

“There goes another attempt to stay awake for as long as possible.” Silver says smiling, also finding it funny. “But I can't blame it. I also feel very relaxed around you.”

You stay with your tsums in the lounge. There's a good chance Silver will fall asleep next to you. Or on your lap if you let him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[crazy-hazy-sims]

Hey everyone it seems there a malicious individual trying to hack the sims cc community again and fill it with malware you need to stay vigilant as a creator and a downloader so

i have some tips for both to stay safe while downloading:

1- sims cc file extension is always .Package never download anything that is .exe

2- do not auto unpack zip files and rar files into your mods folder directly, open each zip or rar individually check the file extensions and drag them to your mods folder one by one

3- the only mods that have a .ts4script extension are ones that affect gameplay or how the game works, understand that if you are downloading cas or bb items you shouldn't have a .ts4script file

4- if you are downloading gameplay mods that do have .ts4script make sure that A) the creator hasn't announced on their pages that its infected B) you are downloading from a link provided by the creator of the mods themselves not something off of google or a link you got sent and make sure dates of upload match dated of announcements

5- if the mod or cc creator has retired and hasn't posted for a while LOOK AT THE DATES OF THE UPLOAD if it has been "updated recently" after the creator has left the community its most likely re-uploaded by a hacker and infected

6- download mod gaurd by Twisted mexi and keep it updated and keep your windows defender or malware detector Program up to date and always running do not disable it

7- make sure everything you download comes from a direct link from the cc creator, in this day and age do not trust link shortners, adfly, linkverse, etc get the universal bypass extension and ublock extension to stay safe but genuinely NEVER CLICK ON THOSE no matter how much the creator reassures you its safe it. is. NOT.

8- this is more of a general saftey precaution but, create a system restore point weekly before you run the game with new mods that way if anything happens you could have a chance to restore your windows to an earlier date before you downloaded anything.

9- BACK UP YOUR SHIT im serious right now either weekly or monthly put your files somewhere safe like a usb a storage card a hard drive even an online cloud if you dont have any of the previous.

10- files you should back up are your media from games and media everything else, any mods, games saves, work files, passwords, saved bookmarks, any documents txt files word files pdfs, links you saved, brushes or actions for Photoshop if you have any, any digital bills or certificates if you have any, and keep a physical list of all programs you have installed and where you installed them from

11- turn on any 2 factor authentication and security measures for any account you have

12- google and firefox have the option to check your paswords and emails against any data leaks USE THIS FEATURE and change any leaked passwords

13- regularly check your logged in sessions to make sure all the logged in devices or computers are yours and log out any that aren't and any old devices or unused sessions do this for every website and app you have an account on if available

14- change your passwords often. I know this is a hassle i know its hard to come up with new passwords but changing your passwords every few months will help you against anything mention previously that wasn't detected.

15- and as a cc creator check your cc and the accounts you host cc on and its uplaod and update dates make sure nothing has been changed without your permission :(

16- generally try not to get swept up in the "i must get it" fever you do not need to "shop" for mods weekly or monthly you do not need to download everything by that one creator you do not need to download new cc everytime you want to make a sim, im guilty of this so i know how hard it is to resist but take a breath and think "do i want this or do i need it" before downloading.

These are prevention methods i cant claim they are 100% will prevent any hacking but its better to be safe than sorry and these do keep you safe so

Brought to you by someone who has had their laptop ruined and data leaked from downloading cc once upon a time

[hayatheauthor]

Can you post something about different kinds of soulmates? The name on the wrist or red strings are nice but a little overused, maybe. Idk. Do you have anything different?

50 Types of Soulmates in Literature

The soulmate trope might feel pretty cliche to most but I love exploring them (great short story material, esp if you want to twist it into horror/thriller/non romance). Thanks for the ask! I hope this list is what you were looking for: 

Fate-Driven Soulmates

1. Shared Dreams – They meet in their dreams every night/[idea] after they turn [age].

2. Reincarnation– They reincarnate in every era and are destined to meet each time.

3. Aura Bonds – Their auras [change] when they’re near each other.

4. Mirror Messages – They see the other’s face in the mirror when they turn [age].

5. Starbound – Their soulmate’s birth constellation forms on them after their first meeting.

6. Heartbeat Match – Their pulses sync when they meet and get more uneven when they’re apart after that.

7. Shared Memories – They have flashbacks of past lives together.

8. The First Words – Their first spoken words to each other are tattooed on their skin.

9. Fragrance – They recognise each other by a unique scent only one’s soulmate carries (i.e. in the world you can only smell roses on your soulmate).

10. Scars – They have matching scars in the same place since their birth.

11. Colour - They only start seeing colour after meeting their soulmate. Can be changed to sound, touch, smell, etc.

Cultural Soulmates

12. Mehndi Marks - In Indian/Middle Eastern cultures, your soulmate’s name appears in your mehndi/henna.

13. Karmic Threads - In Buddhist traditions, invisible karmic bonds pull them toward one another.

14. Feng Shui Alignment – Their energies perfectly balance according to the Feng Shui elements.

15. Ancestor's Blessing – Their names are revealed through a ritual that summons past ancestors.

16. Name in Flames – In some folk traditions, a fire ceremony reveals their soulmate’s initials in the embers.

17. Feather Match – They exchange feathers that later glow when their soulmate is near.

18. Shared Songlines – In Aboriginal traditions, their paths align on the same Songline.

19. Palm Reading Prophecy – Their soulmate’s features or initials are foretold in their palm lines.

20. Dance of Fate – In certain cultures, a soulmate is revealed during a traditional dance when they naturally pair up.

21. Persian Tea Leaves – Their names appear during tea-reading rituals.

Object-Based Soulmates

22. Lock and Key – Everyone is born with a keyhole shape. When you turn [age] you’re blessed with a key that only fits into your soulmate.

23. Shared Journal – They write in the same journal without knowing how.

24. Twin Trinkets – When born, each person receives a magical [trinket]. Your soulmate has its twin. 

25. Compass of Love – A compass always points them toward their soulmate.

26. Two Halves – They carry two halves of the same [object].

27. Enchanted Maps – A map updates itself with their location when they’re near.

28. Eternal Rings – Rings burn hot or glow when their soulmate is close.

29. Song – When they turn [age] they hear a song sung in their soulmate’s voice. (Interesting: in this world, MC hears nothing. They think they don’t have one, rly their soulmate is just mute). 

Connection Through Nature

30. Tree of Life – Their world has a special garden you go to when you’re [age]. In the garden, a tree starts to grow when two soulmates are near. Note: if they ‘break up’ or one dies, the tree wilts and dies too.  

31. Blooming Flowers – When your soulmate is born, you get a flower bud [different for each]. When you meet the first time, this bud goes into full bloom. If you pass without meeting, it dies. This continues till you actually meet, and the flowers finally [fall off?]

32. Animal Guides – At birth you’re assigned a spirit animal who leads you to your soulmate when the time is right. (Ooh maybe your spirit animals are soulmates too OR hmo: they’re enemies! You haven’t met your soulmate yet because your spirit animals are doing everything to keep you [and themselves] apart). 

33. Shifting Shadows – Their shadows always reach toward the other. When you sleep, your shadows break away and meet each other. 

34. Bound by Seasons – They only meet during a specific season each year. Kind of like a Divergent ‘born into a season’ thing. (But what if a Summer and Winter end up being fated? But they can’t survive in each other’s seasons. [omg Tinkerbell] lol). 

35. Ocean Whispers – It’s said if you go to the ocean’s shore and say something there your soulmate will hear it when they go to the shore. (MC’s soulmate hates the ocean. They’ve never been. One day they finally go, and sit for hours as they listen to messages from their soulmate, who apparently lives by the ocean and has been calling to them every night). 

36. Star-Written Names – When you turn [age] only you see a name written in the stars. That’s your soulmate’s name.

Unconventional Soulmate Tropes

37. Memory Keepers – One soulmate is bound to forget each other in each new life, and the other is fated to remember and find them. The other only remembers if and when they meet. 

38. Parallel Lives – They exist in parallel universes but see glimpses of each other via [plot].

39. Shared Illness – They feel each other’s pain, sickness, and recovery.

40. Shared Mortality – They can only die when they’re together.

41. The Final Wish – When you turn [age] you get to make a wish and your soulmate has to fulfil it in order for you to meet.

42. The Sacrificial Lamb – One is destined to save the other through ultimate sacrifice.

43. The Time Loop – They’re stuck in a loop, meeting repeatedly until they get it right.

44. Dual Souls – They share one soul in two bodies, feeling incomplete without the other.

45. The Undying and the Mortal – One reincarnates endlessly, always finding their soulmate, if they fail to find them, their soulmate will not reincarnate and die forever. Except, you don’t know who’s the immortal one. 

46. Time Stopper: Time stops when you’re with your soulmate. It starts again when you’re apart. 

Sense-Based Soulmates

47. Sight: When you close your eyes you can see what they’re seeing. 

48. Warmth: You feel physically cold everytime you’re without your soulmate. Your heart turns colder every year, till when you’re [age] you both die if you haven’t met.  

49. Colour: You can’t see your soulmate’s eye/hair colour till your first meeting. The issue: they don’t know the colour, so often overlook this change. (Many resort to checking a colour chart every day till they see a new colour). 

50. Touch: You can’t feel anything till your soulmate touches you for the first time. Everything simply feels like its weight, not texture. 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

Instagram Tiktok

[eden-axe]

Wrong Sparks p2

Summary: During an argument with Eddie, Volt gets upset with you and kicks you out of the bar, unknowingly hurting you. And now he must make things right.

Part 1

Eddie/Volt x gn!reader

Warnings: Yelling, minor violence, mentions of dying, hurt/comfort

Words: 3865

When Dorian returned he was relieved to see you smiling as you beat Curt & Rod in a game of cards. Betty helped you play by holding your last card, placing it down on the bed. She used her other hand to cover her mouth as her shoulders shook.

“Hey don’t get it twisted we let you win. So don't even think about bragging" Rod threw his cards on the bed, and pointed a finger at you. Curt nodded, and turned his head to pout.

You laughed, but stopped and allowed a smile to beam across your face when you noticed Dorian had entered the room. He quickly puts his hands behind his back as you pat the bed, becking him to come over. When he took his spot in front of the bathroom you asked about Eddie, but he noticed you hesitate before asking about Volt.

”Eddie is doing alright. Volt...” He thought about telling you the truth, but looking at your eager face. He sighed, “He's… calmed down a bit, but I ain’t allowing him back till you get better.”

You wanted to argue, but everyone else, even Betty, agreed to Dorian’s suggestion. You surrendered and fell back into Betty’s chest and agreed with a wave. Curt started a new round of cards while Rod tried to get Dorian to play a round, even roped you into recruitment. But Dorian remained standing tall at his position.

The next three days passed by pretty quickly for you, with everyone stopping by to wish you well on your recovery. Mitchell always stopped by with meals made by Stepan; or a Freddy Yeti ice cream. The three of them made sure the food was good, persevered, and beautiful. “Only the best for our dear human, and my personal dining companion.” Mitchell would always say whenever you thanked him.

Amir would switch your bandages whenever Farya took a break. You didn’t know why but him seeing your arm scared you, but he always made sure to compliment you, even the beauty of the scar. “They paint your arm like lightning. It is a reflection of you: bold, strikingly beautiful, and a light in the dark. Azizam, they may have come from pain, but do not let it harm your smile, you are a work of art. If you wish not to believe me, ask Artt.”

After learning that Curt and Rod played cards with you Parker stormed into your room, not even Dorian could keep him out, and boy did he try. Parker brought so many games and tried to set each and every one of them up in different spaces in your room. If it weren’t for Chance who followed in behind him and helped narrow down the game list you might have hurt your other hand from all the dice rolling that awaited. Though when it did come time to play duopoly, Chance rolled for you both. When you beat Curt and Rod at another game they claimed Chance was cheating on your behalf, and Parker argued that he would know if there was cheating. But he never did say if there was any foul play.

Even Reggie managed to stop by, and despite wanting to tell you to dump your ‘boy toys,’ he played nice. You and him went on his dating profile, one he used specifically to find new and fun ways to reject people. While you didn’t want to break up with Eddie or Volt, finding people who looked, acted, or hell even worked at a bar or club like they did, and rejecting them the worst way you could was slightly therapeutic. Though it did make you miss your lovers even more, scared they thought about leaving you, but Reggie reluctantly reassured you, “You’re a catch sweet thing, you don’t get rejected. You do the rejecting.” And that did make you feel better.

Though only one person made you feel like nothing was wrong with your situation. It was the only person allowed free entry without being questioned by Dorian, Beverly. She was your best friend, one of the first people, things? You awakened, and besides Dorian, was your first friend. She always brought a new drink for you to both try, even spiced things up by having Phoneicia show her some cocktails that were trending. Most however landed you with Jean Loo, who awkwardly patted your back from the terrible mix of alcohol. Although it always led you guys to have a fun laugh by the end of the night.

After the third day she brought in a new drink, you don’t remember what it was, but it tasted awful, but familiar. It was the first drink you ever tried to mix yourself after hours at the Breaker Box. Eddie and Volt wanted you to try it. Volt had the bright idea of letting you fly solo on the mix, which resulted in the awful tasting drink you manage to keep down now. Beverly ran to spit the drink out in the bathroom sink, while you just sat and nursed the rest of the bad tasting alcohol. The same way Eddie would when you first met him.

Beverly came back and saw the sad look you gave the glass. She carefully took the glass from you and placed it on the nightstand and gave you a hug. You held her closely as you let the tears finally fall. You missed Eddie and Volt, a lot.

Despite the quick passing of time for you, Eddie and Volt felt it had been the longest three days of their life. Dorian refused to let them in your room. He kept saying ‘you're resting’, despite them hearing your laughing, or watched him let in another object right before they arrived. So on the fourth day, Eddie decided to reopen the Breaker Box for a night. Eddie was starting to get restless with nothing to do and Dorian not even giving them an update on your condition was driving Volt insane

Yet despite this, the bar was nearly empty. No one even came to perform; not even Johnny. So while closing they were talking about why why no one showed.

"It's because you hurt them pretty bud." Cam heckled. Volt doesn’t know why it aggravated him, but he remains calm, not wanting to repeat his angry state again. He acknowledged he was rough, but he didn't break be anything, he hoped. At that thought he grew nervous and made his presence suffocating, just wanting an answer.

"You seriously think that's why everyone is avoiding this place? Because of a small sprained wrist. It’s bigger than that dipshits. No one wants to be around you.”

"You're here" Eddie huffed out, he didn’t like any attitude given to his partners, that was his job.

Cam sat back and lifted his empty glass "I like the booze & boo's”

Eddie goes to say something, but Volt stops him, “Please continue. What happened?”

"Hold on" Cam rolled his eyes and grabbed a napkin from, no where anyone wanted to know. He goes on to write something. He got up and put money on the table "Don't open tomorrow. I’m doing this for the human, and I better get free drinks next time I’m here. This is a one time favor!"

Cam got up to leave, but neither of the two bartenders stopped him.

Dorian opened the door & was surprised to see Cam. Cam held out the napkin limply, “It’s for the human.” He paused for a second, pulling the napkin back, “Don’t toss it, I’ll know. Then I’ll… break down the door? …nah. Create a fire escape hazard out of trash? Yeah, that.” Cam then immediately left as Dorian took the napkin. Dorian was confused, and slightly disgusted at the damp napkin that rested in his hand.

Dorian closed the door as you asked who it was. He just silently handed you the napkin. You looked at him, he just mirrored your expression. You read the letter and, to which you immediately knew it was not written by your boys, but by your long time frenemy. It read:

’Come by the bar tmmr, bring Dorian it you want -E&V’

It warmed your heart seeing Cam try to help. You laughed and put it on your night stand

“I want to see Eddie and Volt tomorrow,” Dorian was about to object, “Farya said I was doing better, bandage is off now.” You wiggled your hand, the extent of the injury a sight you were willing to tolerate.

He hesitates, still not in a good mood with the two, “I’m going with you.”

“Wouldn’t want you anywhere else.” You grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. You were grateful he trusted you more than he hated them. He knew he couldn’t keep you from them forever, but if it was for your happiness, he would back off a bit.

Volt paced the floor, while Eddie had been drying the same glass for 5 minutes.

Outside the door, you stared at the door, nervous to even touch it again. You stared at Dorian, who only nodded, knowing what you wanted to ask. He offered his arm, and you wrapped your injured hand around his forearm. It was hidden in a loose sweater, provided by the sweet Mateo. The second your hand wrapped around Dorian’s bicep, your trembling hand stopped. You let out a breath of relief as Dorian opened the door.

When you entered the bar Volt stopped in his tracks and moved closer, but froze when Dorian stepped in front of you.

It was so silent, Volt swore you could hear his heart tear a bit, "Live wire I did not mean to be so rough with you that day. I got too protective over Eddie when I— when I saw him blow fuse, but you're also my heart. I did not protect you rather caused harm, both physical & emotional. I'm truly sorry for that.”

You nodded and looked around for Eddie, who walk over from the bar, ”I'm sorry for not stopping Volt, or going after you-”

"That was my fault, & I should apologize to you Eddie. They are your lover too, should. I had no right keeping you both apart.”

”Ahem.” Dorian spoke and they both straightened up to looked back at you.

Eddie continues "And I'm really sorry I was rude when you only wanted to help. But please understand, I just wanted you to recover first. I was scared that you’d only end up more hurt, and if you did while under my care… Still it wasn’t right of me to make a choice for you.

Volt put his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "And I'm sorry, again, for unknowingly causing more harm to your wrist. If I may ask, is it feeling better now?"

Volt held out his hand, his eyes bleeding with concern, but his smile overlooked it with hope. You slowly remove your hand from Dorian and bring your hand to touch Volt's. But when you both make contact he sees the slightly faded lightning scars creep up your hand. He grabs your hand firmly in his. It doesn’t hurt, but the quick action surprised you, so you let out a yelp. Volt quickly released you, his smile full of hope, pried open in horror. Dorian pulled you behind him.

“Live-Y/N. What happened? Your hand…" Volt’s hand matches the tremor in yours.

"You did.” Dorian growled "When you kicked em’ to the curb, you shocked them so badly they were bloody out of it for two days. Your ‘little’ shock even fried the datviators. fried the technology into their octaval nerves, and now Skylar's been missing ever since! Glasses don't even do nothin’ no more.”

Volt looks shocked at the news, but Eddie asks first, "Live wire is this true?"

You don't respond, just lift up the loose sleeve and allowed the scars riding up your arms to answer his question.

“You’re pretty lucky their hand has been recovering quite well over the last few days. They weren't able to feel it after the second time you shocked em’” Dorian gently grabs your sleeve and pulls it down. "Second?" Eddie was seething looking at Volt, who looked panicked.

"It wasn't intentional, I just felt their presence near a current and got annoyed. I swear I didn't know I shocked them. You! I You! I didn't know I shocked you I swear. I would never, I don’t think, I-” Volt’s hair was sparking and you could see tears formed in his eyes. He couldn’t remember much of that day, it was all a blur, even before the performance, he couldn’t even remember if he talked to you, or if you slipped in right as the show started.

Eddie balled his hands into fists, he now understood why Dorian punched him; and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to do the same. Before he could make any decision you were in front of him, holding his fist. You shook your head and opened his fist and used it to touch Volt. Eddie knew that in this state touching Volt would be dangerous for anything, or anyone, who was vulnerable to be electrocuted.

“Volt.” Eddie didn’t realize how much he missed your voice until he heard it again. It was soft, gentle. Eddie knows that tone from nights where he doesn’t feel enough, and you lightly scolded him. It was the same voice you used when they had to make the choice to restart the breaker and he tried to back out at the last second. But hearing this tone being used on Volt, the man who was the main source of warmth in your relationship. It was scary.

You were also scared of the direction you were all going, and somewhere buried deep down, even angry. You were the one who was hurt, so why were you comforting the one who hurt you?

You didn’t want to think about it now, so you pressed on. You moved Eddie’s hand to Volt’s face, and that is when Eddie intervened, moving your hand away. Volt’s face was dangerous in any situation, but now only because it was too close to his sparking hair.

You breathe, “Volt, I’m here. Eddie is here. I’m not leaving you. I want to talk.”

Volt’s eyes glow, as his cheeks turned into a blue hue. He yelled as Dorian pulled you back, “Why aren’t you angry at me!”

You pull away from Dorian and march over to Volt. You pause for a moment, and hit him in the gut. He doubles over and looks at you, sparks gone, wide eyed. Eddie and Dorian take a step back, never had you talked about being violent, or even wishing harm on anyone, or thing. Where did you even learn that kind of punch?

You shook out your fist and yelled back, “I am angry! For so many reasons, but right now only because you think I’m going to leave!” Volt is stunned, and as Eddie helps him back up you grab his hand, “I’m angry you didn’t listen. I’m angry you shocked me. I’m angry Cam had to send a letter to you. I’m angry at… I’m angry at how much I missed you both.”

You didn’t even know you were crying until Eddie wiped your tears away, “Live wire…”

You hold his wrist with your bad hand, “But I’m grateful you let me have time. Even if Dorian stopped you every time.” You glanced back at Dorian, who blushed and rubbed his neck.

“You knew ‘bout that?”

“Of course I did, Bev tells me everything.” You laughed as Dorian looked annoyed at how much he trusted that cocktail menace. You looked back towards your boys, and grabbed Volt’s hand with your unblemished hand. “I feel so many different things when I’m with you both, even if they aren’t pleasant. And I will admit it might take time to give into your affection again, but I know you’ll work hard. You’ve never pushed beyond my limit before, I’m sure you’re still good at that.”

Volt nodded and gripped your hand. Eddie brought your hand to his lips, and kissed each line that bloomed from your wrist. To their surprise you started laughing and trying to get away from Eddie.

“Eddie no! Don’t you dare continue! That tickles!” Eddie quickly let go of confusion and concern. Dorian silently left the bar, he knew that from here everything would be just fine.

“I thought you said you couldn’t feel your hand live wire?” Volt asked, rubbing the back of your hand gently.

You tried to calm your laughing fit down, but it took a bit before everything was released, “I did, and that is true. Ha…. But luckily Farya is a trained doctor and did wonders on it. Aka she treated it well.”

“Well then I’ll have to thank her later then.” Eddie sighed, but was silent compared to the loud sigh Volt let out.

Volt stared at you for a while, not knowing what to say or do. He didn’t know how he could ever make it up to you, but he knew if he wanted to, it had to start here.

“Let’s get something good to drink. Bev’s been torturing me with shitty internet cocktails,” You dragged Volt to the bar and sat down and pushed him to the bar. You looked at Eddie and patted the seat next to you. Your smile was mischievous, “He’s on bar duty for us until I say so. And you are gonna help me drink cause, ya know.” You lift your shaking hand.

Eddie rolled his eyes as Volt started on the drink. You were going to milk this, and neither was going to complain, they loved treating you like this anyways, so it was already a set towards getting back to something normal.

Over the next few days people started returning back to the Breaker Box, even Johnny returned, and no one knew how to feel about it. His bad singing made this place feel homey some days. You hadn’t shown up yet, something that wasn’t normal for the two, even before the fight, you’d either show up before opening, or before the show. Volt grew nervous that you didn’t want to see him. He thought he had been on his best behavior. Volt was jolted from his worries as Eddie placed a black looking liquid onto the bar.

“Give it to Cam, on the house. Again.” Eddie rolled his eyes, not a fan of free drinks unless for you, but you told them to give Cam a free drink every now and then. Only until you had the courage to kiss Volt again. That was the worst part. You were absolutely serious about withholding your affections from Volt. Volt respected the boundaries of touch, he had ever since it was only him and Eddie, but not being able to touch you was painful. He gave Cam his drink, who looked at him smugly. Cam knew being on a line between friendly and rude with you had perks, but didn’t know it would bring good perks.

After everyone filed out, there was still no sign of you. This even brought Eddie to get anxious, but for a different reason. He still had that same worry that you were helping someone when you were injured. “They’re fine. They are an adult and know their limits. They. Are. Fine.” Eddie muttered to himself each time he moved to leave the bar and go find you.

When they finished cleaning up and were about to lock up, you burst through the door. “Guys!”

“Live wire! You’re alright!” Volt explained rushing over to you, but stopped when he realized he was about to hug you.

You looked at him bewildered, face scrunched up, “Of course I am? Anyways you won’t believe it!”

“What could have you buzzing this late sparks?” Eddie moved in closer.

You bounce on your toes and rush to the door, pulling someone in, “It’s Skylar!”

Volt’s face looked horrified at her presence, he was so focused on hurting you, it didn’t even register that he almost killed Skylar. He quickly fixed his face into a smile, “Skylar! I’m so glad you’re alright. I must apologize, I did not intend to get you mixed in. I mean I didn’t mean to—”

“Hehe, I get it, don't worry.” Skylar waves him off playfully, “It felt nice though. I wasn’t just in the glasses anymore. I was everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Eddie sounded suspicious at how that sounded.

“Yeah, while she was ‘gone’ she was able to see everything that was connected by electricity. Even the telephone poles outside, and what was down the block!” You match Skylar’s enthusiasm

“It was so fun! I’ve never been outside before!” Skylar was practically floating while she talked so animatedly. “We spent the entire day talking about what’s out there, who’s out there, and even why it's out there! Can you believe that?”

Eddie and Volt share a confused glance, “I guess not?”

You wave to Skylar as she leaves, turning back to them. Volt watched her leave, “So is she not in the glasses anymore?”

“She is, but we’re kinda linked now?” You linked your pinkies together, “Like she gave me her powers, and I gave her my ability to leave. That’s what we’ve settled on for an explanation. Her suspension of disbelief and all, it was very happy with that.”

“So you weren’t mad at us- me?” Volt asked, and you felt your heart ready to burst. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you really couldn’t resist him much more.

You put your shaky hand on his cheek, then slowly down to his neck. He hummed and closed his eyes, taking whatever you were willing to give him. “No, I do love you, and I really don’t plan on leaving.” You quickly pulled him down by the back of his neck. The kiss wasn’t quick, but Volt wished it lasted longer. He let you take the lead as you bit his lip, he moaned as he felt his knees grow weak. You were gentle, but forceful, nearly pushing him backwards. He went to grab your waist, but paused. You pulled away for a second, and he tried to chase your lips, but you quickly pulled his hands to grip your waist before you dove back in; and before you could take the kiss any further you heard Eddie groan.

“Thank the amps above. I can stop giving that trashy bastard free drinks” You laugh and pull away, leaving your hand resting on Volt’s chest. Volt squeezed you, not wanting to let go, but glaring at Eddie, who just walked up to you and gave you a chaste kiss, and patted Volt on the shoulder as he walked away back to their room.

“Can I stay for a night?” You batted your eyelashes at Volt. Who short-circuited for a moment before smiling an uneven smile.

“Of course darling, anything you’d” You removed his hand from your waist.

“No touching.” Volt groaned, but followed quickly behind you, glad his efforts were not in vain.

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

Notes: OMGOMGOMG THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART 1!!!!!! I really wanted to write a resolution that wasn't just "I forgive you" bc I don't think that is fair to the reader, you, or myself. I hope this ending was a good one for you all. I think it ended in the best way it could, all while having a happy end! And thank you to everyone who wanted to be tagged! That was truly a surreal moment to have so many people want to see what happens next!

Also this two parter might be part of a longer series of Eddie, Volt, and you having a poly relationship. It was actually started on the idea of Bev being your first friend and introducing you guys! Let me know if you want to see that sometime in the future!

Again I do have requests open, just check my pinned post! and uhhhhh eat your greens?

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

@animeweeb99 @redjeanjacket @error-cant-function @dwaniee @mae-jingles @haileybugulug @eaterof-concrete @handmade-witch @hauntingthissite @girlwithadragonheart @theautisticwriter @shadowdreamer22 @btsgangleader @ididntwantto-signup @miss-ecto @fandomaddict505 @josie-mia @lonigiri @trixie541 @bloodrime @noihatemyself @miloonmetis @ghost-heart34 @writing-munchies @kaechu1 @sapphirest0nes @hon3ydewcaram3l @icarus-falling-down @obeyme4life @twinkyjohnson @main-acc-of-zhonglis-spear @mumberie0 @council-of-colors @bats-wings @sleepy159 @m0nst3r-mash @angelicsoul16 @nex-is-an-idiot @mamorukimura @funosmotic @alocaldemisexual02

[chuxmy]

Can you do advice 3? I really liked the 1 and 2 and i cant get enough

Advice.. III

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: The guys want to find out who got you smiling like that, but they were way too close to find out.

Warnings: physical violence, unwanted touching, harrasment, strong language

A/N: I’m reallyyyy happy that you like it 💕 Enjoooy

☜︎ Prev Next ☞︎

You were barely hearing anything around you.

The guys were talking, joking, throwing half-hearted punches, nudging each other like usual. You were sitting with Sieun, Juntae, Baku and Gotak outside a small convenience store near school. An empty ramen cup steamed at your side. Someone handed you a drink. You nodded, murmured thanks.

But your mind was elsewhere.

Still back in that quiet corner of the hallway where Geum Seongje had kissed you for the first time.

The memory clung to your skin like static

His hand curled behind your neck, the warm pressure of his lips brushing yours, hesitant for only a second before deepening, as if he’d been holding back for too long.

The way he said , “You make it hard to ignore you.”

You were still feeling it. The flush in your chest, the phantom pressure on your lips. You couldn’t stop biting them, brushing your fingers over your mouth like the kiss had left something visible.

“Yo.”

You blinked.

Gotak was looking at you from across the bench. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you said too quickly. “I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been zoning out the whole time. You look like you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not.”

“You smiled at your water bottle just now.”

You froze.

Sieun looked up briefly from his phone. “Is it a guy?”

You nearly choked. “W-What?”

Baku snorted. “It is a guy! Look at her face!”

You covered your mouth with your hand. “It’s not—! No. You’re all seeing things.”

Gotak leaned back with a teasing grin. “Let’s guess who it is. Someone from school?”

“No,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

“Someone we know?”

You stiffened.

Juntae watched you carefully. “Wait… wait a second. Is it… someone you shouldn’t be with?”

You stared straight at the ground, heart pounding.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You pulled it out without thinking.

[Unknown Contact]

Rooftop. 7 PM. Don’t be late.

No name. Just the message. But you knew who it was. Knew that texting you at all was risky for him. Knew that your fingers were already curling tighter around the phone as your stomach twisted with nervous excitement.

You looked up and realized Juntae had seen the screen.

His brow furrowed. “Who’s texting you without a name?”

You locked the phone and slipped it back in your pocket. “Nobody.”

“It’s not nobody if you’re about to pass out blushing.”

You stood abruptly. “I’ve gotta go.”

“All of a sudden?”

“Yeah. Homework.”

“No, you don’t,” Baku said.

But you were already walking away, ignoring their voices behind you, hoping they wouldn’t follow. Hoping they wouldn’t put the pieces together.

Because how could you explain to them that you kissed the last guy in the world you were supposed to?

That Seongje of all people had kissed you like he meant it. Like he’d never done it before.

That your heart still hadn’t slowed down since.

The sky had turned amber, streaked with gold and charcoal as the sun began to set. The air was warm, humming with the lazy energy of a spring evening. You sat beside Geum Seongje on the rooftop of an empty school building, legs dangling over the edge. You’d been there for an hour, just talking. Or more like… he listened to you talk.

Seongje never talked much unless he had something smart to say. But when you were alone with him, he didn’t always need words. Sometimes he just looked at you, his expression softer than the one he wore around others less armor, more curiosity.

You turned your head, catching him watching you again.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked away, lips twitching. “You’ve got something on your face.”

You wiped your cheek instinctively. “Where?”

“There,” he pointed vaguely, then leaned in without warning. He kissed the spot instead light, deliberate his lips brushing just beneath your cheekbone. “Got it.”

You glared at him, blushing. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“I know,” he said smugly, but his voice dropped as he added, “but you still like me.”

You bumped his shoulder. “Barely.”

He chuckled under his breath. But then he leaned back on his elbows, gazing at the sky, his face unreadable again.

You lay back beside him, looking up too. For a moment, you just breathed together. Quiet. Peaceful. Like he didn’t have ties to something dangerous.

Eventually, you sighed and sat up. “I should go. The guys are probably wondering where I went.”

He didn’t move for a beat. Then he stood, brushing off his jeans. “Want me to walk you?”

You smiled. “No. Someone might see.”

He nodded slowly, and you knew what he wasn’t saying It’s not safe. But I won’t risk getting you involved.

So you left alone, the ghost of his kiss still lingering on your skin.

You took a shortcut home, familiar alleyways between apartment blocks, the concrete lit by weak orange streetlamps. You didn’t think twice. Not until you turned the corner and realized you weren’t alone.

A group of older boys stood there. About six of them, leaned casually against crates and stairs, smoking, laughing, whispering too low for you to hear. They didn’t look like strangers. Their uniforms were unbuttoned, slouched. And when one of them turned and made eye contact with you, your stomach dropped.

Oh oh.

You tried to back away, quietly. But your shoe scuffed the pavement.

They all looked up.

One of them stepped forward, dark eyes narrowing. “Yo,” he said. “You lost, little thing?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You felt your throat close.

Another leaned into the circle, amused. “She’s cute. You followin’ someone? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I didn’t know,” you said quickly. “I was just walking home, wrong turn, I’ll go back.”

“Not so fast,” the first one said, stepping in front of you. “You heard anything? Saw anything?”

“I don’t even know who you are—”

Wrong answer.

The boy grabbed your wrist roughly. “Liar. You don’t end up here by accident.”

“I swear—!”

Another boy joined, arms crossed. “Who are you? Say your name.”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter please, just let me go—”

He raised a hand. Not to wave.

To strike.

And it landed.

The slap cracked across your face, hot and loud. Your head snapped sideways, cheek stinging. You stumbled, nearly falling.

The world tilted. Your eyes watered not from the pain, but the fear.

And then—

“What the fuck are you doing?”

That voice. His voice.

It came like a growl, low and furious.

All heads turned.

And Geum Seongje was there.

He stepped into the circle like he didn’t care there were six of them. Like it didn’t matter if they were Union or not. His eyes were locked on you, and when he saw the red mark blooming across your face, his entire body tensed like a loaded weapon.

The boy who slapped you looked confused for half a second.

“Seongje? She didn’t say who she was we were just—”

Seongje punched him so hard he dropped.

No hesitation. No words.

Just a fist straight to the jaw, the sound of bone on bone, and then the boy was on the ground groaning. Blood smeared his lip.

The rest of the group moved instantly but Seongje turned, face cold as ice.

“Anyone else want to explain why you laid a hand on her?” he said, voice low and deadly.

They froze.

One of them tried to speak. “We didn’t know she was yours—”

“She’s not property,” he snapped. “She’s off-limits. That should’ve been obvious the second you saw her face.”

You stood frozen, still holding your cheek, your breath shallow and quick. Seongje walked straight to you. You saw the change happen in him again the fury draining into something sharp and quiet as he looked you over. His hand came up slowly, carefully, fingers brushing your chin to tilt your face toward the light.

When he saw the red print, he swore under his breath.

“You okay?” he asked, low.

You nodded shakily. “I didn’t mean to come here— I didn’t know—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, stepping in closer. “It’s not your fault.”

Then he turned back to the boy still groaning on the ground.

But you grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t. Please. You’ve already done enough.”

He stilled.

For a second, it looked like he might fight you on it. His hands flexed, still twitching with anger.

Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and snapped a photo of the guy’s bloody face.

“You tell the others,” he said to the group. “Anyone touches her, they deal with me. Got it?”

They all nodded, dead silent.

Seongje looked at you again. “Come on.”

He led you out of the alley without another word. You didn’t speak until the lights of the main street hit your face, soft and safe.

He finally stopped, pulling you gently to face him.

His eyes scanned you again checking every inch, like he was trying to make sure you were still whole.

“I told you not to walk alone,” he muttered.

“I didn’t know they’d be there.”

“You shouldn’t have had to worry about that.”

Silence stretched between you.

You whispered, “You were really going to kill him, weren’t you?”

“I still might,” he said darkly. Then softer “No one touches you. Ever.”

You looked up at him. “Why do you care so much?”

He stared at you for a second then pulled you into him suddenly, fiercely. His arms locked around you, his chin resting in your hair. You felt him breathe in slow, steady, like he needed to remind himself you were real.

“I don’t know how to do this right,” he whispered. “But I know I can’t lose you.”

You held him tighter.

And for the first time in all the chaos, you felt safe.

[smutmind]

The Summer Guest pt. 2

---

here's your part 2 guys! Part 1 here

The week passed like a fever dream—every shared glance sharp, every touch accidental but felt. You both acted like nothing had happened. But silence doesn't erase heat.

She packed quietly. You avoided the guest room. Your wife stayed oblivious, too busy with store schedules and staff drama to notice the glances you didn’t risk.

The morning she left, your wife handed you car keys and kissed your cheek. "Drop her at the airport? And don’t let her flirt her way into a missed flight."

Then, to Sana: "Aren’t you cold in that dress? It’s an airplane, not a beach."

Sana smiled, all teeth and something unspoken. She wore white. No sleeves. No bra. Hem high enough to make walking an event.

"I’ll be fine," she said, brushing past you, suitcase wheels humming behind her.

The drive was agony. You kept your eyes ahead. She didn’t.

"You really think ignoring me makes it go away?" she asked, voice soft but loaded.

You didn’t answer.

She crossed her legs slow, letting the hem slide up. "You haven’t looked at me since I stepped out of the house. Don’t like the dress?"

You gripped the wheel. "It's fine."

"My nipples say otherwise."

You exhaled. "Sana. Don’t."

"You said that last time. Then you fucked me like I was the only thing keeping you alive."

She leaned closer. "You keep pretending. But I know the truth. You haven’t stopped thinking about it. About me."

Her hand landed on your thigh. Light. Intentional. Your body betrayed you. She smiled wider.

"Still nothing to say? Maybe I should give you something to talk about."

You shifted. Her fingers followed. You were already hard.

"You're taking me to the airport, but we both know what you really want."

You stared hard at the road.

"That night? It wasn’t the end. You wanted more. You still do."

"You have a flight," you muttered.

"That's the thing," she said. "I lied. It's not at 9am. It's at 7 tonight."

You looked over. Eyes locked.

"You what?"

She didn’t blink. "We have time. Enough to stop pretending."

Your hand flicked the signal. Turned off the highway. Gravel kicked up under the tires. Trees swallowed the car.

She looked around, then smiled. "This place… we used to come here. I was eight, maybe nine. You and my sister would sit on that bench and make out when no one was watching."

You parked. Shut the engine off.

She turned, breath catching, dress sliding just enough to bare the top of her thigh.

"I never thought I'd fuck here."

The car sat idling, quiet except for the ticking engine and your breath.

Sana unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted in the passenger seat, the white dress riding higher as she leaned over the console. Her eyes held yours for one beat—mischievous, burning—before they dropped to your lap.

"This shouldn’t happen," you muttered.

"And yet," she whispered, fingers grazing your zipper, "you’re already hard."

She dragged the zipper down slow, deliberate. Her hand reached in, warm and sure, pulling you free. Your cock twitched in her grip.

She licked her lips, soft and filthy. Then bent low.

Her tongue flicked the tip, teasing the sensitive slit. She drew lazy circles over the head, just her tongue, no pressure, no rush. Then she kissed it—a single, reverent press of her mouth.

You groaned, head thumping back against the seat.

"You like being teased?" she whispered.

"Sana."

She giggled, breath hot on your skin. Her hand wrapped around your shaft, stroking slow as she opened her mouth again. This time, she took you deeper.

Her lips slid down, inch by inch, until you felt the back of her throat tighten. She gagged softly, pulled back, saliva coating your cock. She sucked the head as she stroked the base, twisting her wrist on the upstroke. Her other hand rested on your thigh, grounding her.

She bobbed her head in a slow rhythm, letting her tongue glide beneath the shaft, each stroke smoother than the last. She moaned around you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

You looked down. Her eyes were closed. Her cheeks flushed. Her lashes fluttered every time she sank down. Her hand squeezed just tight enough to drive you mad.

"Fuck," you breathed.

She popped off just enough to swirl her tongue around the head, then sucked hard before diving back down. Her saliva dripped over your balls. Her hand cupped them gently, fingers massaging as she kept the rhythm steady.

She pulled off again, breathless, a thin strand of spit connecting her lips to your cock.

"Taste good," she whispered, then took you back in, deeper this time.

Your fingers tangled in her hair. Your hips lifted, chasing her heat. She didn't resist. She moaned again, louder.

You were close. Every muscle tightening. Your cock throbbed in her mouth.

She looked up. Eyes gleaming.

"You gonna cum for me?" she asked, lips wet, stroking you with both hands now.

"I—"

She giggled, glanced at her watch. "You have plenty of time. Don’t rush."

"Sana, shut up," you growled, eyes dark. "Just make me cum."

Her smile curved wicked. "Yes, sir."

She went back down, fast and focused. No more teasing. Her mouth moved like silk and hunger, sucking with purpose, taking you deep until your cock pulsed at the edge.

She stroked as she sucked, hand and lips in perfect sync. Her spit coated you. She moaned, over and over, like she was getting off on your taste.

"Oh fuck—"

Your hips jerked. Your cock thickened in her mouth.

You warned her with a breathless gasp. She moaned louder and kept going.

You came hard, groaning, spilling deep down her throat. She swallowed you down with soft gulps, never breaking eye contact.

When she finally pulled off, she licked her lips slowly, then wiped a bit of wetness from her chin with the back of her hand.

She leaned back in the passenger seat, eyes wild, dress rumpled. Then she glanced at the cramped interior.

"Adjust the driver's seat," she said.

You blinked. "What?"

"I want to ride you."

You let out a breath, head hitting the headrest. "Give me a second to recover."

"No," she said, already shifting. Her hands slid up her thighs and under the hem. She tugged the dress down in one smooth motion, exposing her breasts. No bra. Just skin, soft and flushed, nipples stiff from the AC and heat.

She crawled over the console. Straddled your lap.

"You can start sucking these," she whispered, taking your hands and guiding them to her breasts. "Maybe it'll help."

She ground her bare cunt slowly against your soft cock, the heat of her slickness already smearing over you.

You groaned as her nipple brushed your lips. You didn’t mean to open your mouth. But you did. And sucked.

She gasped.

Her hips kept rocking. Slow, insistent. Her wetness gliding along your shaft, coaxing it back to life.

You felt the stir first—a second wind rising under her weight. She felt it too.

Her breath caught. Her smile widened. She pressed your head harder into her chest.

"There he is," she whispered, grinding lower. "You’re such a bad fucking man."

You groaned around her nipple. She cried out.

"Hard again for your wife’s baby sister? That cock doesn’t lie."

She rocked harder, your length swelling fast under her heat.

"Sinful," she moaned. "Filthy. So fucking naughty. And you love it."

You bit gently. She screamed.

"You love how wrong this is. How tight I am. How wet I get just for you."

She reached down, guided your now-thick cock between her folds.

"I’m gonna ride you like I own you. Because today? I fucking do."

She reached down and took your cock in her hand, lining it up with her entrance. The head slid against her folds, slick and swollen. She held your eyes, then sank down.

You groaned. Her heat wrapped around you, tight and perfect, swallowing you inch by inch until she was fully seated.

"Fuck," she gasped, breath catching. "You fill me up so good. Better than I remembered."

She started to move, hips rolling slow and deep. The car creaked faintly beneath you. Her thighs flexed around your hips, riding you with control, with hunger.

One hand braced against your chest. The other stretched forward, planting firmly against the fogged windshield. Her back arched, tits bouncing just inches from your mouth.

"God," she moaned, grinding down harder. "Your wife never rides you like this, does she?"

You shook your head. Couldn't even speak.

"She doesn’t talk like this. Doesn’t fuck like this. Doesn’t tell you how big you feel inside."

Your hands gripped her hips. Her pussy clamped around you like velvet.

"Touch me," she begged, voice shaking. "Suck my nipples. I need it."

You leaned forward, lips catching her right nipple. She gasped, fingers curling on the glass.

"Yes—fuck—just like that," she panted. "Make me feel it."

You sucked harder, tongue flicking fast. Her hips stuttered, grinding with purpose now, riding harder.

"You’re so deep," she cried. "So thick—fucking me so full."

Your cock throbbed. You groaned into her chest.

She looked down, sweat beading on her temple. "You gonna cum already?"

"Can’t hold it," you gasped.

She stopped.

Her pussy clenched. Her body froze.

"No," she whispered, grinning. "Not yet."

She leaned in close, kissed your cheek. "Naughty boys don’t get to cum until I say."

Then she rolled her hips again—slow, deep, deliberate torture.

She climbed off your lap suddenly, sweat shining down her spine. She opened the car door without a word and stepped out barefoot onto the gravel.

Through the windshield, you saw her. Saw the white dress fall. One motion. No hesitation. Her bare skin caught the sunlight like a dare. No bra. No panties. Just Sana, completely naked in the woods.

She turned, hair wild, nipples stiff, thighs slick. Her voice floated through the open door.

"I used to dream about this," she said. "Getting fucked in the forest. On the hood of a car. Rough. Fast. Like someone couldn’t wait."

She leaned back against the hood, palms flat. "I just didn’t know it would be my brother-in-law who'd make it come true."

That broke you.

You were out of the car in seconds. Shirt half-off. Pants open. Your cock hard and heavy, still glistening from her mouth.

You grabbed her hips, turned her roughly. Bent her over the hood, her tits pressing into warm metal.

"You want it rough? You fucking get it."

You thrust in deep. She screamed.

"Oh fuck—yes!"

You pulled back and slammed into her again. Hard. Her ass bounced. Her fingers scrabbled for grip on the metal.

"You like that?"

"Yes! God, yes!"

Another thrust. Deeper.

"Say it. Say who's fucking you."

"You are! My sister's husband!"

Your hands bruised her hips as you pounded into her. Her tits slid on the hood with every slam.

"So fucking wrong," you growled.

"That's why it's perfect," she cried. "You're not supposed to want me—but your cock says otherwise."

You drove in harder. Her moans broke into gasps.

"You love how wet I am for you?"

"You're soaked," you snarled. "You're fucking dripping."

"That’s because it’s you! You make me like this!"

You leaned over her back, hand in her hair, pulling her face up.

"You thinking of her while I fuck you like this?"

"No," she moaned. "Only you. Only this."

You hammered into her, thighs slapping. Her ass reddening with every strike.

"You wanna cum, baby?"

"So bad," she whimpered.

You reached down, rubbed her clit. Fast. Hard.

"Then take it."

She came with a scream, legs shaking, her pussy clamping down so tight it nearly pulled you with her.

You held on. Gritted your teeth.

"Where do I cum?"

She didn’t answer. Just pushed her ass back harder.

You spilled inside her with a growl, every drop buried deep. She moaned as your warmth filled her, grinding through it.

Minutes passed.

Back in the car, sweat drying, silence stretching, she reached into her bag. Pulled out a pair of white panties.

Pressed them into your hand.

"For remembrance," she whispered.

You didn’t speak.

She just smiled.

The road back to the airport felt shorter.

Sana leaned back in the passenger seat, dress wrinkled, her thighs still bare. You could smell her on your skin. On your fingers. The windows were cracked, but it didn’t help.

You stopped at a Korean diner tucked between a laundromat and a pharmacy. No one said anything. You just pulled in. She smiled before you even parked.

Inside, she ordered like a ritual. Bulgogi. Kimchi stew. Rice with too much sesame oil. You sat across from her, the table too small, the air too thick.

She ate with her fingers. Picked up a slice of meat, dipped it, moaned softly.

You swallowed hard.

"Don’t do that," you muttered.

"Do what?"

"Be cute. Be... this."

She tilted her head. Picked up another piece. Chewed slowly.

"This has always been my favorite," she said. "I used to beg Mom to take us here. Even when I moved away, I came back for it."

You didn’t answer.

She wiped her fingers on a napkin, eyes on yours.

"You know why? Because some things... even if they’re bad for you, even if they’re messy or hard to find... they’re worth coming back for."

Another bite. Another soft sound.

"And I always know exactly where to find this place."

You stared at her. Heat, guilt, and something darker swirling behind your ribs.

She licked a smear of sauce from her thumb, slow. Intentional.

You looked away first.

[slutzforbueckers]

SHES SAFE WITH ME—CHAPTER 1

♡—pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: none

♡— synopsis: you’re home for summer break and your mom’s girlfriend is just your type. the only problem is that she’s looking at you like you might be hers and you haven’t gotten the whole self-control thing down yet.

♡— word count: 2.5k

♡— a/n: first chapter… i know it could be longer but this is just the introduction, bare with me.

❥•°❀°•༢

the kitchen was warm with late evening sun, the windows were open to let in a breeze and the scent of summer. you were helping your mom with dinner—well, you were making dinner—because she insisted you make paige your “famous” barbeque since you were back home for a while.

you weren’t opposed to it, you actually liked paige—she was nice… basing that on the few times you’d actually interacted with her… and not to mention she was insanely attractive and a big star basketball player at that.

you never really understood why your mom went for younger women, you didn’t even know she was interested in the same sex for years. when you found out though, it did make it easier to come out to her and now it was something you could bond over. although the only difference was that you went for older women and she went for younger—nothing wrong with that.

paige and krystal, your mom, hadn’t been together for long, maybe a month, but you could tell krystal was head over heels for her already. paige stayed over a lot, she already had her own key, but she still kept her own apartment for now—being young and all, she didn't want to throw all her eggs in one basket.

you could remember the first time you met her, it was a few weeks ago and you’d gone home for the three day weekend.

“mom! i’m home!” you yelled as you dropped your suitcase on the floor beside the door. you heard the quick shuffle of feet coming down the hallway and then your mom appeared. there was another sound just the same coming up behind her. you and your mom both walked towards each other and she pulled you into a hug but your eyes stayed focused on the tall blonde standing behind her.

when krystal pulled away she did her routine check up, turning and twisting you around to make sure there were no scratches or anything alarming. you stopped her with your hands on her wrist and cleared your throat, your eyes darting over to the girl again.

“wow she’s hot, you know how bad my love life’s been lately.” you joked, mostly, and turned your attention back to your mom. she slapped your arm and went to stand by the girl again.

“don’t be silly. y/n this is paige, paige this is y/n." krystal patted her shoulder gently. paige didn’t say anything, she just stared at you, looking you up and down. you thought maybe she thought your outfit was ugly because of the way she kept staring at it or maybe she couldn’t talk—you went with the latter.

“can she speak?” you whisper-yelled to your mom, taking a few steps closer to her. your eyes narrowed slightly as they darted between paige and krystal.

“i can speak.” paige finally said and your eyes widened, something pooling in your stomach because of how attractive her voice was. your body got hot and you nodded your head quickly, if you weren’t feeling her before you definitely were now.

“paige and i are seeing each other.” your mom said proudly, looking at paige with big heart’s exploding from her eyes. paige didn’t stop looking at you and you didn’t stop looking at her, it was like she had pulled you into a trance that you couldn’t break free from.

krystal’s voice went muffled in the background as she went on and on about how they met and everything of that nature. you weren’t listening though, not really—how could you when a girl like paige was standing in front of you staring like she was trying to reach the door of your soul with just her eyes.

she finally looked away when krystal placed a kiss to her cheek. your eyes followed the movement immediately, a feeling you hadn’t had in a while pooling in your stomach.

“jeez mom, leave some for the rest of us.”

“she should be here soon.” your mom said from beside you as she continued chopping up an onion. her words brought you out of your thoughts and you just nodded your head, ignoring the way your heart started to beat a little faster. krystal moved around behind you, pouring things into bowls and pulling things out of the pantry. she stopped behind you and you could feel her eyes on you. “those shorts are pretty short. you don’t have anything else to wear?”

you rolled your eyes and turned around to look at her, folding your arms over your chest. you tilted your head slightly. “it’s not my fault your girlfriend has eyes.”

krystal just laughed and turned her attention back to the vegetables, she didn’t say anything else after that. your relationship with krystal was simple, she was more of your best friend than your mom. she had you when she was only 16 so you basically grew up together—krystal raised you herself, with little to no help, and she did the best she could.

she was 35 now and you were 19. you saw life together, experienced things that made you stronger as you both worked to figure out who you were. nothing could come between you, you were like two peas in a pod, the mother and daughter duo.

your dad wasn’t around, he never was, and you were totally okay with that. of course you asked about him as a child but krystal had enough love for you it made up for him not being there.

it was around 7:38 when you heard the door open and shut, and the sound of footsteps got closer. paige’s voice floated in, low and smooth—just like it was the first time you met. “smells good in here.”

your mom responded first, greeting her with a quick kiss and an affectionate hum. “dinner’s almost done. i made bug make barbeque, remember the one i told you about?”

“stop calling me that.” you groaned at the nickname and they both laughed. you turned around and your eyes caught paige’s immediately—she looked tired but so damn good. she wore a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that hung a little low on her hips. her arms flexed from where she held her bookbag in her hand, the veins running down her hands popping from the effort of holding it up.

you couldn’t help but stare, your eyes roamed oer her body and you had to physically stop yourself from drooling. paige noticed you cheking her out and the corner of her lips tugged into a slight smirk and if you looked hard enough you could see the difference in how she looked at you and how she looked at krystal.

her gaze dropped and roamed over your body and suddenly you were over aware of what you were wearing—a plain white baby tee and a pair of short, lavender plaid shorts.

purple was her favorite color, you may or may not have thought about that when you were changing into “cooking comfortable” clothes. her tongue darted out to wet her lips and her eyes met your again. krystal had long moved back to the counter but neither you or paige had noticed because of the bubble you’d somehow created arounf yourselves.

“come on, dinner should be finishing up.” krystal clapped her hands as she turned towards you. you looked away from paige quickly, clearing your throat and turning your attention back to the pot on the stove.

❥•°❀°•༢

the dining room was filled with laughter and bad jokes, the energy was good but the food was even better. your barbeque had lived up to its name—paige was clearly enjoying it, she was on her second plate. she kept making little noises that made your stomach tighten and your eyes flicker to her lips more than once. they were small noises, really, but for some reason they sounded louder in your ears; you probably shouldn’t have even heard them but you did, you noticed everything when she was around.

krystal was in the middle of a story, one hand nursing a glass of red wine, the other gesturing in the air widely as she told some story about your childhood. she was laughing more than talking, the wine already taking effect on her system. paige was only half listening, she was more focused on her plate and maybe you.

you sat across from her, leg curled under you in the seat, pretending to listen to the words your mom was saying. you could feel it when she looked at you, could feel it linger on your skin.

“lesson learned: don’t tell bug she can’t do something.” your mom laughed and took the last sip of wine before setting the glass down. you and paige chuckled along with her even though neither of you had even really been paying attention.

“she’s determined. i like that.” paige murmured. she was talking to your mom but her eyes were locked on you. your ears were getting hot again, you looked down at your plate and pushed around the last bit of food that was on it.

“look, you got her blushing.” your mom snorted and your head snapped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“i am not!”

“if you say so. i’m going to take a nice, long, hot bath.”krystal shrugged with a smirk as she stood up, she walked around the table and ruffled your hair as she passed. your face scrunched as you swatted her away. she stopped right in front of the stairs and turned to look at paige over her shoulder. “you comin’, babe?”

“i’m gonna help clean up first, then i’ll be up.” paige smiled softly, tapping the edge of her plate with her fork. you didn’t even bother saying she didn’t have to volunteer but truthfully you didn’t mind at all.

“alright—no funny business you two.” she raised her brows and pointed between you and paige before finally disappearing upstairs. the sound of her footsteps fading gave the room a sudden, noticeable quiet– the kind that made you hyper aware of the fact that it was just you and paige. you stood quietly and started to pick up your plate but paige stopped you with a shake of her head.

“i got it,” she said as she stood, taking the plate from in front of you and stacking hers on top of it. she looked at you with a look you couldn’t quite pinpoint.you let her gather the dishes with no problem—more time to stare at her arms anyway. “you cooked. i clean. that’s fair, right?”

you nodded and followed her into the kitchen anyways, leaning against the counter as she moved around like this was routine. she rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher—you tried not to stare at her back, at the way the muscles in her shoulders flexed when she reached for a dish, but of course you could only try so hard.

it was like she could feel your eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder at you, her voice low and teasing. “you monitoring to make sure i do it right or what?”

you let out a dry laugh, trying to mask how fast your heart had picked up. “luckily i’m here, you’re putting them in wrong.”

“oh really?” she smirked, dropping the plate in the sink and turning to face you. you nodded your head and pushed off the counter—walking towards her until you were almost toe to toe. paige’s eyes dropped to your lips for a second before she pulled them back to your eyes.

“move. let me show you how i like it done.” you murmured, trying not to think about how your words could’ve had a double meaning. paige took a step off to the side and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms as she watched you. you picked up the plate out of the sink and loaded it into the dishwasher, bending over to reach the bottom rack.

paige couldn’t help the way her eyes trailed down your back, over the curve of your ass. she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and let her eyes fall lower, down the length of your legs. she wondered if you played sports in high school, or even just worked out, your legs were sculpted like you did—sexy is what she thought.

you stood back up straight and turned around, lips already parted to throw some smart remark at her but then you noticed how quick her gaze lifted. you smirked but didn’t say anything, just turned back towards the rest of the dishes in the sink.

“nice shorts.” paige mumbled, shamelessly letting her eyes roam your body again. you looked at her over your shoulder, the words “nice arms” hanging on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t let them fall—even though you wanted to.

“thanks, i almost wore the see-through pair.” you spoke without thinking—you always did—and usually you always regretted it but when she laughed, genuine and soft, you didn’t feel an ounce of regret. you turned your head to hide your smile and mentally cursed yourself because days from now all you’d be able to think about still was the time you made paige laugh.

she moved around you from behind and placed the last few dishes in the dishwasher. you passed her the pods and watched as she closed and started it.

it was quiet now, just the sound of the dishwasher coming to life hanging between you. paige didn’t say anything so you didn’t either but still you faced each other, mirroring each others pose—arms crossed over your chest. a million thoughts were running through your head, you only managed to grab ahold of one. “so, do you always go for older women or is this just some… beginning-of-life crisis type thing?”

paige laughed again, more breathy this time, and her arms dropped to her sides. she was starting to learn that hardly any thought of yours went unspoken and a part of her actually enjoyed the bluntness. she took a step closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

“do you flirt with all your mom’s girlfriends or is that just for me?” she asked, lips quirking into the faintest smirk. there was a flicker in her eyes—something playful and dangerous all at once. you shrugged, trying not to seem as thrown as you felt.

“nah, that’s just you.”

she was close enough you could smell the smell of cologne—it was faint, barely there— and feel the warmth radiating off of her. her lips parted as she started to say something but krystal’s voice floated through the air and she took a step back. you blinked, snapping yourself out of whatever world you were in and reminding yourself where you were.

“i should go.” paige whispered as she started to step back again but slower this time, like she almost wanted to stay here with you. “thanks for dinner. seriously—it was amazing.”

before turning to leave she gave you one last look, one that made you think she wanted to say something different but held back. you opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you just nodded instead. you watched as she walked away and when you finally couldn’t see her anymore you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

‘this is going to be bad’ you thought.

[barnacles34]

Best Friends & a side of sex

MEOVV Gawon, Sooin X Male Reader

18+ smut 13k words

PART 2 of I Never Meant to Memorize your Smile

‘You’ve got dried cum in your hair.’ Your lips brushed her shoulder blade. Gawon's spine stiffened. ‘What?’

‘Morning, sunshine.’ She twisted, fingers probing her scalp. ‘Tell me you didn’t ejaculate into my hair last night.’ ‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Though… Exhibit A - ’ You tapped a pearlescent streak on her lower back. ‘ - and Exhibit B.’ A glint near her hairline. [1] [1] 'Aim' undersells it. Last night was less a targeted strike and more a Jackson Pollock session across her skin. Stain #1 ended with her pressed against the shower wall as you sprayed load after load over her face. Stain #2: the final piece of the day; Exhausted beyond belief, you came across her back, and the both of you collapsed from exhaustion. It's really a miracle the rest came off relatively easily. She groaned. ‘It’s crystallizing. Like sea salt.’ ‘Adds texture.’ You nuzzled the nape of her neck, inhaling lilac and sex. ‘Stay. Five more minutes.’ ‘Your semen is petrifying on my skin and you want to cuddle?’ ‘Yes.’ Your hand slid down her stomach. ‘It’s proof.’

‘Of what? Your inability to control your own - ’ ‘That we wrecked each other so thoroughly last night.’ Your thumb circled her navel. ‘That’s hot.’ She snorted. ‘You’re disgusting.’ ‘Your disgust sounds suspiciously like pride.’ ‘Fine. But if this gluey patch near my ear isn’t coconut oil, I’m bleaching your favorite jeans.’ 'Of course.' 'Lay back,' she said, still facing away from you, legs curled and slotted against your knees. 'I wanna see something.' You gently rolled onto your back, sinking into the pillow. She turned, entering your periphery with sleep-gleamed eyes and pink lips. 'Try swallowing,' she said, moving closer. You swallowed. Her lips found your neck right in the midst: a wet kiss to your Adam's apple. The sensation lingered. 'Why'd you do that?' 'Why not?'

Why not. Those two words contained everything: why not when you're curled against her like this, why not when you're deep inside her, why not when you're breathing in the sweet scent of her skin. She shifted back, still within the circle of your arms, her hair tickling your forehead. 'I'm all sore. No thanks to you.' 'I was adjusting to your needs. And your needs... are an acquired taste.' You snuggled upward, her hair now feathering across your chest, almost ticklish. She had no defense. 'The champagne was a nice touch.' 'Which bottle?' She tilted her face up, eyes still heavy but alert. 'Don't pretend there weren't multiple bottles. I counted at least three.' 'Two and a half. The third was already open.'

'Because you opened it.' Gawon turned over completely, facing you now. Goddess. Goddess. You didn't say it aloud, but she probably knew what you invoked with each gulp, each strained touch, each unfettered breath. [1]

-

[1] The thing about thinking "goddess" repeatedly during sex is that it's simultaneously the most embarrassing and most accurate thought possible. Like yes, technically we all know about oxytocin and dopamine and whatever chemical cocktail makes you temporarily insane, but that doesn't explain why her particular face makes your brain short-circuit into worship mode. Modern therapy would probably have words for this - "idealization" or "projection" or some other term that completely misses the point that sometimes a person just is that magnificent and your brain is simply reporting facts.

-

A comfortable pause; No awkwardness anymore, just the luxury of looking.

'Details.' You brushed a strand of hair from her face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. 'How's your head?'

'Fine. I switched to water after the first few toasts. Unlike someone.'

'You're a lightweight.'

'I know. But you didn't fare much better.' She laughed properly then, burying her face in your chest. 'Certified Chair Tester.'

The memory clicked into place. 'Ah. I made you rate the chairs.'

'Yup. And I rated them all tens because I was tipsy.'

'A flimsy critic in my bed. How appalling.'

She poked your chest. 'You were swaying. It was way too funny to focus on furniture evaluation.'

'It's important information. What if we need to know which one's most comfortable?' 'At two in the morning?' 'Especially at two in the morning. That's prime chair-testing time.' 'You're ridiculous.' 'You helped.' 'Someone had to make sure you didn't fall off the balcony furniture.' 'I was perfectly stable.' 'You tried to serenade a potted plant.' 'It looked lonely.' She propped herself up on an elbow to study your face. 'What did you even sing to it?' 'I don't remember.' She blew at your face. You blinked. 'Liar. You remember everything.' 'Only the important things.' 'So what's important about last night?' You pretended to consider. 'Well, first, the sex - ' 'Hey.' Her hand found your shoulder in mock protest. 'Alright, but… come on.' You made the face that said you know it was, and she buried her face in your chest again, giggling. 'Fine. It was…' 'The best.' Another gentle smack. 'Then champagne in blankets. Plant serenading - ' 'You serenaded the plant.'

' - chair testing. When's the next time, anyway?'

'Never happening.' 'Come on.' You caught her hand, interlacing your fingers. Her skin was smooth, like heated marble. 'The way you looked in that dress…' 'Now you're just being smooth.' You traced her hand - the knuckles, the flesh between finger joints, her careful nails. 'Is it working?' 'Maybe.' She leaned in for a soft kiss. 'What else?' 'The way you insisted on ranking every wine from the minibar.' 'Research purposes.' 'On hotel stationary. With ratings out of ten.' 'What do you have against proper documentation?' Her eyes gleaming. Cute. [2]

-

[2] There's something deeply unhinged about making someone rate wines at 2 AM, but it's also exactly the kind of thing that seems brilliant when you're three drinks in and she's wearing your shirt and everything feels possible. The fact that she went along with it - actually took notes, actually assigned numerical values to '$8 minibar Chardonnay' - is probably why you're doomed. Anyone who matches your weird that precisely is either your soulmate or your downfall, and honestly… what's the difference?

-

'Nothing. Found it adorable.' You chased her as she dodged your kiss. 'What was the winner again?' 'The Rosé. Obviously.' 'Mm.' Your fingers found their way into her hair. 'We should probably get up soon.' 'Why?' 'Sooin's coming at 11:30.' She reached for her phone, squinting at the screen. 'That's… two hours away.'

'Exactly. Soon.' 'Your concept of time is broken.' The phone dropped back to the nightstand as she curled into you. 'Five more minutes.' 'You said that twenty minutes ago.' 'Did I? Must have been someone else.' 'In this bed?' 'Could be anyone. Very large bed.' 'True. I should check.' You shifted theatrically. 'Excuse me, mysterious person, have you seen my girlfriend?' She pinched your side. 'Stop.' 'About this tall, beautiful - and I mean beautiful - and makes spreadsheets about minibar wine?' 'I hate you.' 'Makes terrible threats?' She kissed you longer this time, a proper good morning. 'Better?' 'Getting there.' 'Impossible.' But she smiled against your mouth. 'What would make it better?' 'Hmm. Maybe if the mysterious bed person knew where my pants went.' 'Bathroom door.'

'How - ' 'You hung them very carefully while explaining the importance of wrinkle prevention. Very drunk. Very serious.' 'I was thoughtful.' 'You were tipsy trying to be responsible. It was cute.' 'Just cute?' 'And amusing.'

'I'll take it.' You caught her hand, kissed her palm. 'Though I notice your dress made it to an actual hanger.'

'I'm efficient even when compromised.'

'Compromised?'

'Slightly… influenced. By alcohol. And you.'

'Me?'

'You kept doing that thing.'

'What thing?'

Pink crept into her cheeks. 'The thing where you look at me like…'

'Like?'

'You know.' She hid her face in your neck. 'Stop making me say nice things. Too early.'

'It's past 9:30.'

'Weekend rules.'

'Since when do you follow weekend rules?'

'I'm adopting them. Selectively.' Her breath warmed your skin. 'Rule one: no embarrassing admissions before coffee.'

'After coffee?'

'We'll see.'

You wrapped both arms around her, content in the absurd luxury of this hotel bed. The room still held last night palpably - an empty glass on the far table, her shoes abandoned by the door, balcony doors cracked to let in cool morning air. Most importantly, her hair: properly mussed, frizzy where you grabbed it, where she moved in rhythm with your body. [3]

The morning stretched ahead, full of nothing but this.

-

[3] The morning-after hair observation thing is such a cliché it hurts, but: you become a forensic expert in the evidence of your own happiness. Every tangle says "this happened," every misplaced strand means "we were here, we were real, we were absurdly alive at 3 AM." It's pathetic how much meaning you can extract from follicular displacement, but then again, memory needs its anchors, and if yours happen to be keratin-based, so be it.

-

'It was nice watching you and Sooin together. All the history there.' 'Seven years of questionable decisions,' she murmured. 'Good decisions. Like this hotel room.' 'Mmm. I'll tell Sooin you approve.' She yawned. 'She'll be insufferable.' 'She's already insufferable. That's why we love her.' 'True.' A pause settled between you. 'Do you think she's okay? About the exhibition?' 'She will be. She always is.' 'I know. I just worry.' She shifted to look at you properly. 'Is that silly?' 'No. It's what you do.' You tucked her hair behind her ear. 'It's nice.' 'Nice?' 'Adorable. The kind where you pretend you're not soft but you actually are.' 'I'm not soft.' 'You made her a good luck playlist.' 'That's just being supportive.' 'With color-coded sections.' '…Organizational efficiency.' 'And little notes for each song.'

She buried her face in the pillow. 'Stop knowing things.'

'Never.' Your hand found her back, rubbing gentle circles. 'Hey. She's going to be brilliant. You know that, right?' 'I know.' Her voice came out muffled. 'I just want good things for her.'⁴ 'They'll happen.' She turned her head to peek at you. 'You really think so?' 'I do. And if not, we'll be there with emergency mimosas and terrible jokes.' 'Your jokes are terrible.'

'That's the point.' She smiled, reaching up to trace your face. She kissed your closed eye. You held her closer. Her eyes, the small mole on the tip of her nose. Palpable, the universe of you two. 'I love you.' She whispered. You kissed her in turn. 'I thought no embarrassing admissions before coffee.' Pink crept up her neck as she hid her face again. You pulled her closer. 'Nowhere else I'd rather be.' 'Even with mysterious bed people?' 'Especially then.'

She laughed, tugging you down for another kiss. 'Okay. Fifteen more minutes, then we really do have to get up.'

'Deal.'

'I mean it this time.'

'Sure you do.'

'I'm setting an alarm.' But she made no move toward her phone, already melting back into your arms.

'Very convincing.'

'Shh. Weekend rules. No calling out contradictions before coffee.'

'I thought that was embarrassing admissions.'

'I'm making new rules as needed.'

'Of course you are.' You kissed the crown of her head. 'Fifteen minutes.'

'Fifteen minutes.'

The promised alarm never materialized. Instead, your mouth found hers again, morning breath be damned. Your hands sprawled across her honey skin, palms pressing against the beginning swell of her breasts, circling slightly, drawing out those perfect little half-groans.

When you shifted to bracket her body with yours, she squealed playfully, pressing her palm against your shoulder. 'Someone's feeling bold.'

'Just thorough. You seemed cold.' The lie was transparent. She knew it, fingers already tracing your shoulder, eyes holding that particular heat from last night. 'Thorough, he says. Is that what we're calling it?' You answered by kissing the corner of her mouth, working your way to that spot below her ear that made her breath catch. She tilted her head automatically, a response coded into muscle memory. 'You're terrible,' she breathed.

'The worst,' you agreed against her skin. 'Absolutely the - oh.' Her words dissolved as you found that perfect junction of jaw and neck. Then, disaster: pins and needles shot down your supporting arm. She noticed immediately. 'Did your arm just fall asleep?' You lied by her side. With a big grin. So beautiful, when she smiles. 'Maybe.' 'Adorable. My strong man, defeated by his own circulation.'[1] Her hands worked your forearm back to life. 'Better?' You flexed your fingers in response. She caught your index finger, pressed a kiss to the tip. 'Competen - '

'Don't even start.' Her eyes blazed with mischief. 'Maybe stick to positions that don't require gymnastic endurance?' You pulled her firmly against you, her waist bending perfectly as she gasped. Your mouth found the flexing tendon of her neck, tongue tracing hollows and dips as she arched into you. Fifteen minutes became thirty. Thirty became an hour. Sooin could wait.

-

[1] All taut sinew; the next, your nerve stages a coup, flooding your limb with the fizzy static of a thousand dying televisions. The humiliation is exquisite: biology reminding you that you’re essentially a sentient meat puppet piloted by faulty wiring and whimsical blood flow. You try to play it off - Ah, just my corporeal vessel rebelling against transcendence! - but internally, you’re drafting furious letters to Evolution: “RE: Poor Design Choices in Homo Sapiens Model #27B-6. SUGGESTION: Prioritize limb reliability over, say, toe hair or the ability to taste cilantro as soap.” It’s the universe whispering, through pins and needles, that even ecstasy is provisional, subject to maintenance, and probably overdue for an upgrade.

-

Her breath hitched when your lips found the edge of her jaw. You kissed the hard angle first, then traced the taut cord of muscle down to the soft dip beneath her chin. When your mouth finally covered hers, it wasn’t gentle. ‘How’s that for competent?’ You growl. Into her mouth. Her breathless mouth. Inching for any opportunity to breathe. You sealed her protest with your tongue. Her hands locked behind your nape pulling you closer until her breasts flattened against your chest, nipples hardening directly on your skin. The scent of her skin - salt and gooseberries and lilac - flooded your nostrils as she arched into you. Your palm slid down her outer thigh, fingertips catching on the fabric of her panties. Higher. Over the curve of her ass, gripping the fabric until the muscle tensed under your hand. She moaned into your mouth, grinding against your hip, her bare feet wrapped around you, holding on for dear life. Then her hand was on you - fingers curling around the thick outline of your cock through your underwear, squeezing just enough to draw a ragged groan from your throat. You felt the damp heat between her legs when your thumb brushed her clothed pussy.

‘Fuck me,’ she gasped, hips jerking as you pushed two fingers past her waistband, through slick folds. ‘Turn around.’ She smirked before she pivoted, turning around, back pressed to your chest. You hooked your thumbs in her panties - black lace - and dragged them down to mid-thigh, perfectly profane. Her skin burned where your knuckles brushed her inner leg. 'Please.' She pleaded, pushing her ass against your erection' You fumbled with your underwear, cock springing free against her lower back. She guided you with a hand behind her, fingers wrapping your shaft, angling you downward. Your first thrust grazed into her. Too tight.

‘Wrong - ,’ she yelped, pain and laughter trembling. 'Oh fuck. I'm so sorry.' You sidle up next to her, 'Are you - '' 'Keep going. Don't ruin the mood. Keep going. Please.' You choked; you adjusted, the head of your cock catching on wetness this time. She gasped as you pushed past swollen flesh, sinking an inch into her. Her inner muscles clenched.

‘Deeper.’ she begged, fingers clawing at your thigh. ‘Please - ’ You drove forward until your hips met her ass. A choked cry tore from her throat as she took your full length. She was fracturing. 'Fuck. Fuck - ' You held still, letting her adjust, feeling the flutter of her walls around you. 'Take it. Take it.' You breathe out, out of breath, fucking her into heaven. Nothing to offer but your length divvied into her wet walls. Hips pinned against her every turn. Your cock kissing her cervix - the rim of her moist cunt pressed oh so tight, filthy, dirty. ‘Should’ve - ah - aimed better,’ she panted, rolling her hips to take you deeper still. You moved then - thrusts that dragged just so, perfectly, leaving just the crown of your cock before pressing your full length inside her. Her moans sharpened, pitching higher with each retreat, each return. You slid a hand around her hip, fingers finding her drenched folds, circling her swollen bud as you fucked her. Her thighs shook. ‘Come on,’ you urged, thumb pressing hard. ‘Let go.’ You fucked deeper. Restraining her neck, her back compressing into an arch that left nothing in the middle. Only her nape and ass pressed against you. You dug your palm into her navel, 'Cum for me. Princess. Cum for me.' You growl, drawl. Her back arched, more than before. More than what should be possible. A scream ripped through her as she came, muscles milking your cock. Pulse after pulse. You groaned, and you followed, hips slamming forward as release tore deep into your muscles, your bones. Rope after rope. Cum served right to her cervix. Glancing off the walls, eventually sickeningly spread all inside her, filled to the brim, spilling like lava through the slightest crevice of her folds. All she could offer was a soft sigh.

-

Her back was to you, she was still trembling. Sweat glued the both of you together. Your fingers stroked the damp hair at her nape.

'I don't think I can walk.'

You smile. 'Who said you had to walk?'

‘Mmm,’ she hummed, turning in your arms. ‘Such a charmer.’ Her hand slid down your chest, pausing at your abdomen. ‘Prove those muscles aren’t just for show. Carry me.’

You lifted her easily, fireman-style. Her laughter vibrated against your neck as you carried her to the bathroom.

She opened the doors. 'Though I'd be of help, you know, my arms, and your legs situation.'

'Appreciate the assistance.' You jokingly say.

The shower hissed, steam immediately fogged the mirror.

‘Brunch with Sooin later. Before her exhibition.’ she said, a reminder to herself. Water sluiced through her hair, darkening it to ink.

You followed, hands sliding over her slick shoulders. ‘And after?’

She tilted her face up, droplets catching on her lashes. ‘Haven’t decided.’ Your palm cupped her breast, thumb rubbing a taut nipple. She sighed, leaning back into you. ‘Maybe we’ll just… see.’

'Wait.' You reached for the shampoo, squirting some into your palm. 'Did Gawon just suggest winging it?'

'I'm full of surprises.' She turned, presenting her back to you as you worked the shampoo through her hair.

'Next you'll tell me you threw out your color-coded calendar.'

'Let's not get crazy.' She was soft, content. Her head steadily went along with your touch. 'This feels nice though.'

'What does?'

'Not knowing. Just… being here with you.' She leaned back slightly into your touch.

'Even with soap in your eyes?'

'Especially with soap in my eyes.' She laughed, swiping at her face. 'Very romantic. Really setting the mood.'

'I do my best.' You helped rinse her hair, fingers gentle against her scalp. 'So this spontaneous Gawon - should I be worried?'

'Terrified.' She grinned up at you. 'I might suggest something really wild. Like trying that new Thai place without checking reviews first.'

'The horror.'

'Or walking through the park without a clear idea.'

'Now you're just talking nonsense.'

'I'm learning spontaneity from you. So to speak.'

'That's either very sweet or you're setting me up for something.'

'Can't it be both?' She reached for the conditioner. 'Your turn. What do you want to do today?'

'Honestly?' You took the bottle from her. 'Whatever makes you keep smiling like that.'

'Smooth talker.' But her smile widened. 'Though I notice you didn't actually answer.'

'Maybe I'm learning from you. Keeping my options open.'

'A convert!' She pressed a wet hand to her chest  in mock surprise. 'My work here is done.'

'So Sooin at… noon?'

'Eleven-thirty. She's got that exhibition at two.' Gawon tilted her head as you worked conditioner through the ends of her hair. 'She's nervous about it.'

'Art?'

'Mhm.'

'She'll nail it.' You guided her back under the water. 'She's got that whole eccentric thing down.'

'I'll tell her you said that.' She wiped water from her eyes. 'She thinks she's too cheerful for the part.'

'That’s charm though. No one has energy like her.'

'She contains multitudes.' [1] Gawon's eyes sparkled with mischief. 'Speaking of which, you never told me who your favorite poet actually is.'

-

[1] Gawon deploys Whitman quotes like other people deploy "um" or "well". It's her tell. You've catalogued them all: 'I contain multitudes'; 'I am large' when caught crying at a commercial; 'Do I contradict myself?' when she changes dinner plans for the third time. If you were confronted on behalf of her, you'd say, to the world and above 'She's a loser, your honor'. Though the fact that she only does this for maybe four people in the world makes you stupidly proud to be one of them.

-

'You're not getting out of the Whitman bit that easily.'

'Worth a shot.' She reached past you for the body wash. 'Though I bet it's someone properly pretentious. Ezra Pound? T.S. Eliot?' You had your hand out, she spooled some body wash on your palm.

You rubbed your palms together, getting suds out. 'Baudelaire, actually.' You softly rubbed her body down.

She paused, surprised. 'Gross.'

'What?'

'Pervert.' She smiled, something tender in it. 'I see where you get your naughtiness from.'

You smiled back.

The water ran.

'See?' she said finally. 'Spontaneity. We just had a poetry moment in the shower.'

You pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. 'Maybe ease up on the transcendentalists before coffee.'

'No promises.' She tucked herself against you for a moment. 'I'm feeling very one-with-the-universe today.'

'God help us all.'

'Just you.' She pulled back, eyes bright. 'Think you can handle it?'

'I'll manage somehow.'

'Good.' She headed for the bedroom, calling back, 'Because I'm thinking we skip the predetermined brunch place and just walk until we find somewhere that looks good.'

'Living dangerously.'

'Try to keep up. This new spontaneous me waits for no one.'

'Except for the fifteen minutes you'll spend choosing which spontaneous outfit to wear?'

A towel flew back through the doorway, her laughter following it. 'Twenty minutes, minimum. Some habits die hard.'

You helped her dry her hair, something you’d underestimated, she had a mischievous smile the moment you accepted her offer of drying her hair. The best part was, indeed, the scent of her hair, the softness of it, gliding along your hand.

‘Didn’t expect it to take this long?’’

‘Not at all, it's your hair. Any time is too short.’

‘You got vocal chords shaped like a heart don’t you?’

'Only for you.' You wrapped your arms around her waist, and kissed her neck once.

‘I’m feeling beguiled.’

‘Unsafe?’

‘Very. Where’s the exit?’

‘Oh. I’m not that easy.’ You tightened the embrace.

She giggled, her hand wrapping endearingly around yours.

You had maybe 3 outfits; they were also scattered - the rest of the time, you and Gawon had to look for it. You finished just a little later than Gawon.

Outside, Sooin was sitting in her jeep with the windows down. She spotted you approaching with a grin.

'Morning,' she said, climbing out. 'I brought coffee but I drank it all. Sorry.'

'You okay?' Gawon asked.

'Yeah. Just couldn't sit still at home.' She leaned against the car. 'My neighbor started vacuuming at six AM so I figured that was the universe telling me to leave.'

You all climbed in. The car smelled faintly of coffee and the blue lavender sachets she kept tucked everywhere.

'Where to?' Sooin asked, pulling out carefully.

'I hadn't really decided,' Gawon said.

Sooin glanced over. 'Really?'

'Really.'

'Huh.' A small smile crossed her face. 'Okay. Let's just drive then.'

She took a left at the light, no particular destination in mind. The morning traffic was light, mostly delivery trucks and early joggers.

'The exhibition's at two-fifteen,' Sooin said after a while. 'They want a 'spontaneous review' .'

'You're good at those,' Gawon said.

'Sometimes.' She adjusted the mirror unnecessarily. 'It's three months in Hokkaido if I get it.'

'That's far.'

'Yeah.' Another adjustment. 'Really far.'

They drove past a small café with outdoor seating. Sooin slowed.

'This works?'

'Perfect,' Gawon said.

Sooin parked, taking two tries to get it straight. Inside, they found a corner table. The place was nearly empty, just them and an older man reading a newspaper.

'Tea?' Gawon suggested when the server came by.

'Coffee,' Sooin said. 'I know, I know. But tea makes me sleepy.'

'Since when?'

'Since always. I just pretend to like it.' She smiled at the server. 'Biggest mug you have, please.'

They ordered food too - eggs, toast, nothing fancy. Sooin picked at hers.

'Not hungry?'

'I ate earlier. Made eggs at home too. Forgot I did until just now.' She laughed quietly. 'I'm a little scattered today.'

'You'll be fine,' you said.

'Maybe.' She took a sip of coffee. 'My agent actually said 'think less.''

'Helpful.'

'Right?' She managed a real smile then. 'I should just channel Gawon. Very contained.'

'I'm not that contained,' Gawon protested.

'You made me use a coaster at your apartment during a party.'

'That's just common sense.'

'It was a red solo cup.'

They fell into silence. Sooin's hands had stopped fidgeting, wrapped around her mug.

'Thanks for this,' she said eventually. 'I know I'm being weird.'

'You're not,' Gawon said.

-

'Right.' She put the phone down. 'Tell me something normal. Anything.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know. What you had for breakfast yesterday. Your grocery list. Literally anything that isn't about auditions.'

Gawon thought about it. 'I bought new socks.'

'Thrilling.'

'They have cats on them.'

'Of course they do.' But Sooin was almost smiling. 'Are they at least subtle cats?'

'They're wearing top hats.'

Sooin smiled.

'What? They were on sale.'

You laughed. 'Show her the ones from last week.'

'No.'

'They have tacos on them,' you told Sooin.

'Tacos?'

'Tiny dancing kitty tacos.'

Sooin stared at Gawon. 'You're secretly twelve years old.'

'They're comfortable.'

'That's not a defense.'

'It's the only defense I need.' Gawon took a sip of coffee. 'Besides, you have that shirt with the - '

'We don't talk about the shirt.'

'The one with the sequined - '

'I said we don't talk about it.'

They went back and forth like that, and slowly Sooin's death grip on her mug loosened. Her shoulders came down from around her ears.

'Fifty minutes,' she said eventually. 'Think I have time to throw up?'

'You're not going to throw up.'

'I might.'

'You won't.' Gawon pushed the water closer. 'Drink this.'

'Bossy.'

'Yeah.'

Sooin drank the water. 'Remember when I auditioned for that commercial? The one with the cat?'

'You were allergic.'

'So allergic. My face swelled up like a balloon.' She touched her cheek. 'At least there's no cats this time.'

'Small mercies.'

'Huge mercies. Can you imagine? Sorry, I can't quietly unravel, I'm too busy sneezing.''

'You'd still get it,' you said.

'With my balloon face?'

'Even then.'

'Liar.' But she looked calmer. 'Thirty minutes. Oh god.'

'You want to head over?'

'No. Yes. I don't know.' She stood up, sat back down. 'What if I forget my own name?'

'Then make one up,' Gawon suggested.

'Hi, I'm… Gertrude.'

'Aim higher.'

'Beatrice?'

'Now you're just listing old lady names.'

'Those are sophisticated names.' Sooin stood again, for real this time. 'Okay. Let's go before I really do throw up.'

You paid and left. Outside, Sooin stopped walking.

'I don't want to go to Hokkaido,' she said quietly.

'Then don't,' Gawon said.

'I need the job.'

'You need a job. Not necessarily this job.'

'It's a good opportunity.'

'Is it though?'

Sooin looked at her. 'You're supposed to be supportive.'

'I am being supportive. I'm supporting your right to not freeze your ass off for three months.'

'That's…' Sooin laughed, surprised. 'Actually helpful?'

'I have moments.'

They walked to the car. Sooin got in, started it, didn't drive.

'What if I bomb?'

'Then you bomb,' you said.

'That's it?'

'Then you bomb and we get lunch and tomorrow's another day.'

'You make it sound simple.'

'It is simple. But cruel.'

Sooin considered this. 'I hate when you're profound.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be.' She finally put the car in drive. 'Twenty minutes. Let's do this.'

At the theater, she parked crooked and didn't fix it.

'How do I look?'

'Like yourself,' Gawon said.

'Is that good enough?'

'It's perfect.'

Sooin nodded, grabbed her bag. 'If I die in there - '

'We'll delete your browser history.'

'I was going to say tell my mother I love her, but that's better. Thanks.'

She hugged them both quickly, then walked inside before she could change her mind.

'She's going to nail it,' you said.

'Yeah.' Gawon was already looking for somewhere to wait. 'Coffee?'

'Obviously.'

You found a place across the street. Ordered. Sat by the window where you both could see the theater doors.

'She really doesn't want to go to Hokkaido,' Gawon said.

'No.'

'Think she'll take it anyway?'

'Probably.'

'Yeah.' Gawon turned her cup three times. Caught herself. 'Damn it.'

'I didn't say anything.'

'You were thinking it.'

'Little bit.'

They sat quietly, waiting. Normal morning. Normal coffee. Two people waiting for their friend to maybe change her life or maybe not.

Either way, they'd be there.

-

Sooin's exhibition was successful. She sold 3 pieces. 3 more than she expected. She was more than ecstatic. And she was hired.

'I got it!' Sooin shouted from the hallway, fumbling with her keys. 'Holy shit, I actually got it!'

'We heard you the first ten times,' Gawon said, taking one of the champagne bottles before Sooin dropped it.

'I'm going to keep saying it.' She finally got the door open. 'Maybe forever.'

Her apartment was a mess. Empty wine bottles from last night's panic session, canvases against every wall, a dead plant she kept meaning to throw out.

'Sit,' Gawon ordered. 'You're vibrating.'

'I can't sit. I might explode.' But Sooin collapsed on the couch anyway. 'They want me for three months. In Hokkaido. Starting next month.'

'That's fast,' you said.

'That's terrifying.' She opened the champagne badly. Foam everywhere. 'Shit. Sorry.'

'Leave it.' Gawon was already in the kitchen getting glasses. Real ones, not the plastic cups Sooin usually used.

'Fancy,' Sooin said.

'You got a real job. We're using real glasses.'

'It's just three months.'

'It's a whole thing. With a budget. A whole mentor.'

'Who thinks I have 'luminous loneliness.' Sooin made air quotes. 'Whatever that means.'

'It means you're hired,' you said.

'Yeah.' She drank half her glass at once. 'Weird though, right? Like he saw through me or something.'

Gawon and you exchanged a look.

'What?' Sooin caught it. 'What was that?'

'Nothing.'

'Bullshit. You did the thing.'

'What thing?'

'The worried look thing.' She poured more champagne. 'I'm fine. I'm great. I'm employed.'

'We know,' Gawon said carefully.

'Do you? Because you're looking at me like I'm about to cry or something.' Sooin laughed. Too loud. 'I'm not going to cry. I got the part.'

She kept drinking. Fast. By the third glass she was quieter.

'Three months is long,' she said eventually.

'We'll visit.'

'Yeah.' She picked at the couch cushion. 'It's just. I'll be alone. Again.'

'You won't be alone. You'll have the cast, the crew - '

'That's not what I mean.' Sooin looked at them. 'When's the last time someone actually wanted me around? Like, really wanted me?'

The question hung there.

'See?' She smiled, but it was all wrong. 'Can't remember either.'

'Sooin - '

'It's fine. I'm used to it.' She stood up too fast, swayed. 'I'm going to bed.'

'Let us help - '

'I'm good.' She wasn't. 'Really. Thanks for… this. For being here.'

They watched her weave toward her bedroom. The door closed with a soft click.

-

The apartment had gone quiet except for Sooin's gentle breathing from the bedroom. You'd both helped her there an hour ago, after the toasts became mumbled and her eyes started closing mid-sentence.

Just you and Gawon on the couch, the Yamazaki bottle between you on the coffee table. She poured two fingers each, no ice.

'She was happy,' Gawon said, tucking her legs under herself. 'Really happy.'

'The exhibition was a success.' You add.

'That's not what I mean.' Gawon took a sip, considering her words. 'Did you see her face when that couple was discussing her work? How she lit up?'

'She loves when people get it.'

'No.' Gawon shook her head. 'She loves being seen. There's a difference.'

You waited. Gawon had that look-the one that meant she was working up to something.

'She told me she hasn't been with anyone.’ She said, quiet.

'She's focused on her work.'

'She's scared.' Gawon stared into her glass. 'I mean, I know the feeling now, you know? She’s never been with anybody - I never thought that concept would be so important to me now.’

She looked at you then. 'When's the last time someone chose her? Really chose her?'

Japan’s humid night tucked the both of you in this comfortable atmosphere.

'I've been thinking,' Gawon continued. 'About what she needs.'

'Gawon - '

'Just listen.' She shifted closer. 'You're good. Actually good. Not just nice, not just charming. Good.'

'I'm not - '

'You are.' Her hand found yours. 'And she trusts you. We both do.'

'What are you asking?'

'I'm asking…' She took another sip for courage. 'I'm asking you to make her feel wanted. Even just once. So she knows what it's like.'

'You want me to-'

'I want her to stop believing she's meant to be alone.' Gawon was fierce but quiet. 'I want her to know how it feels when someone sees all of her and wants her anyway.'

'This is whiskey talking.'

She set her glass down. 'This is me talking. Me loving her enough to be unconventional.'

'And you'd be okay with it?'

'I'd be there.' The words came out sure. 'If she wanted. If it helped her feel safe.'

You studied her face - earnest, determined, maybe a little scared herself.

'This could complicate everything,' you said carefully.

'Everything's already complicated.' She laughed softly. 'We're sitting in her apartment, drinking her celebration whiskey, trying to figure out how to fix her loneliness. We passed complicated a while ago.'

'She might say no.'

'She might.' Gawon picked up her glass again. 'But she might not. And maybe that's what she needs - to choose. To be chosen.'

From the bedroom, Sooin murmured something in her sleep. You both turned toward the sound, then back to each other.

'Think about it,' Gawon said. 'That's all I'm asking.'

'I don't need to think about it.' You touched her face gently. 'If you're sure. If she wants it. If it would help her…'

'You'd do that?'

'I'd do anything for the people I love.' First time said aloud. 'Both of you.'

Gawon kissed you then, soft and grateful.

She curled into your side, and you sat there with the weight of what you were contemplating. The whiskey bottle refracted and diffracted, amber and warm, like the feeling in your chest.

'When?' you asked eventually.

'When she's sober. When she can really choose.' Gawon was sleepy now. 'When it's not about the exhibition… but just… us. Being here for her.'

'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

She smiled against your shoulder. In the bedroom, Sooin slept on, unaware of the promises being made in her name, for her heart, in the whiskey-soft glow of her own living room.

-

Morning came with the quiet sounds of movement in the kitchen.

'There's coffee,' Sooin said without turning when you and Gawon came in. She was at the stove, hair messy, wearing the same paint-stained shirt she always wore for cooking.

'Smells good,' Gawon said, settling at the table.

'It's just eggs.' Sooin was carefully neutral. 'Nothing fancy.'

'Sleep okay?' you asked.

'Fine.' She still hadn't turned around. 'You?'

'The couch was comfortable.'

'Good. That's… good.'

Gawon nudged your foot under the table. The eggs were starting to stick to the pan.

'Here.' You stood, moving to help. 'Let me - '

'I've got it.' But she let you take the spatula, stepping back.

Standing this close, you could see she'd been crying again. Not recently, but enough to leave traces.

'Sooin.'

'Don't.' Her voice was very quiet. 'Please.'

'Okay.'

You focused on the eggs, salvaging what you could. She stayed nearby, not quite touching but not moving away either.

'I said things last night,' she said finally.

'You were honest.'

'I was drunk.'

'Both can be true.'

She laughed softly, without humor. 'I guess.'

The morning light caught her face when she finally looked up. She looked tired but also somehow lighter, like crying had washed something away.

'I meant it though,' she said. 'About being tired of being alone.'

''I know.'

'It's not…' She glanced at Gawon, then back. 'I'm not trying to make this weird.'

'You're not.'

'I am though.' She moved closer, just barely. 'Aren't I?'

You set the spatula down. 'Look at me.'

She did, reluctantly.

'You're not making anything weird. You're being you.'

'That's the problem.'

'No,' you said gently. 'It's not.'

Something shifted in her face. 'You mean that.'

'Yeah.'

'Even though…' She gestured vaguely between you and Gawon.

'Even though.'

She was very still now, watching you. You reached up slowly, giving her time to step back. She didn't. Your hand touched her face.

'Oh,' she said softly.

The kiss was brief, gentle. Her fingers wrapped around your wrist, not pulling away, just holding.

When you stepped back, she stayed still for a moment, eyes closed.

…

She opened her eyes, looked at you, then at Gawon who had moved closer.

'I don't understand any of this.'

'That's okay,' Gawon said quietly.

'Is it?'

'Yeah.'

Sooin took a breath. Looked at the stove. 'I burned the eggs.'

'I noticed.'

'They're completely destroyed.'

'We'll make more,' you said.

'Right.' She turned off the burner, moved the pan to the sink. 'Right. Okay.'

She ran water over the burned mess, watched it steam.

'Thank you,' she said to the sink. 'Both of you.'

'For what?'

'I don't know.' A small laugh. 'Everything. Nothing. The eggs.'

'Anytime,' Gawon said.

The morning sun filled the kitchen. Three people standing in the aftermath of something shifting. The burned smell was already fading.

Sooin dried her hands, turned around. 'So. Breakfast?'

'Breakfast,' you agreed.

And that was enough for now.

-

The taxi smelled like fake pine. Gawon sat by the window, arms crossed.

'You okay?'

'Fine.'

'You're doing that thing with your jaw.'

'What thing?' Her jaw unclenched slightly.

'That thing.' You poked her shoulder. 'When you're annoyed but pretending not to be.'

'I'm not annoyed.'

'Okay.'

'I'm not.'

'I said okay.'

She turned to glare at you. 'Her lipstick is on your collar.'

You glanced down. There was indeed a faint pink smudge. 'Huh.'

'Huh? That's all?'

'What do you want me to say?'

'I don't know. Something.' She turned back to the window. 'Never mind.'

'You're jealous.'

'I'm not jealous.'

'You're a little jealous.'

'Shut up.'

You slid closer. She leaned away.

'Gawon.'

'What?'

'You literally suggested it.'

'I know what I suggested. Doesn't mean I have to like it.'

'Fair.'

The driver changed lanes. Gawon stayed pressed against the door.

'She uses vanilla lip gloss,' you said conversationally. 'Very sweet.'

'I don't care.'

'Like candy almost.'

'Stop talking.'

'You use that mint one. Much better.'

She finally looked at you. 'You're enjoying this.'

'A little bit.'

'Ass.'

'Yeah.' You touched her knee. 'Come here.'

'No.'

'Come on.'

'I said no.' But she wasn't pulling away from your hand.

'One kiss.'

'You've had enough kisses today.'

'One more.'

She rolled her eyes but turned toward you. 'You're ridiculous.'

'Yeah.'

'And your collar is still pink.'

'I'll wash it.'

'Good.' She leaned in then, quick and firm. When she pulled back, she was almost smiling. 'There. Happy?'

'Getting there.'

'Don't push it.' But she let you take her hand. 'How was it anyway?'

'How was what?'

'You know what.'

'It was nice.'

'Nice.' She considered this. 'That's it?'

'She was nervous. Kept apologizing.'

'Sounds like her…'

…

'I also liked it.' She added, in the silence.

Wha-

She swiftly kissed you this time, harder, hands on your jaw. The taxi driver coughed pointedly.

'We're almost there,' Gawon said against your mouth.

'We could circle the block.'

'That's very Pretty Woman of you.'

'I've never seen it.'

'Liar.' But she was smiling now, the tension finally breaking. 'You probably cried at the end.'

'Every time.'

'I knew it.' She settled against your side properly. 'You're such a soft touch.'

'Only for you.'

'And Sooin, apparently.' She smiled, now with an air of mischief.

'That's different.'

'I know.' Quieter now. 'I know it is. Still.'

'Still,' you agreed.

The hotel appeared ahead. Gawon straightened, already reaching for her bag.

'For the record,' she said as the taxi slowed, 'I prefer when your mouth tastes like mint. Or nothing. Or me. Or you.'

'Noted.'

The taxi stopped. The doorman was already moving toward them. The moment broke, but the understanding remained - she'd given something, watched something, felt something she hadn't expected. And maybe that was okay.

-

The hotel already felt like home. Two days. Just two days and the air carried Gawon's scent.

And the traces of the entire day, and the day before that.

You carried a box of cookies that Sooin made into the villa. She said it was just a parting gift just for today, but it felt more like she was trying to forget what happened. It was the opposite for you, you couldn't forget; and the fresh smell of the cookies, reminded you exactly of Sooin's plump lips, pressed desperately against yours, as the scent of the cookie caramelized in the oven.

You left the box of cookies on the table.

The door to the bathroom clicked when you sat on the bed. And Gawon emerged. Sheer stockings covering her feet to the midway of her thighs. A stunningly webbed black lingerie piece that covered just the right amount to leave you anguish, while still narrowly hiding everything.

Her bra was the same too, the underswell, the upswell, the way her breasts coupled just over the edge of the bra, just so, god almighty.

-

'Sit on that chair.' She was firm.

You moved, still admiring her, but now sat facing her.

She approached, slowly at first, between you and the bed, and she sat.

'I suppose this is what I planned as payback.'

'Because of yesterday.'

'Among other things. You kissing Sooin, keeping me sore this entire week.'

Her stocking-clad foot traced a deliberate path along your denim-clad thigh - a slow exploration. ‘Gawon.’ The name escaped you, raw and pleading.

‘Hush.’

Your fingers dug into the chair’s worn knit fabric. Her toes pressed, finally, against the aching bulge straining your jeans - then lifted away. ‘Gawon.’

‘Keep saying my name.’ A command.

Both feet settled heavily on your thighs now, warm soles pressing heat through denim. Your knuckles whitened. ‘What do you want? Tell me.’

‘Help me. With your feet.’

‘Good boy.’

One foot slid upward, the nylon catching on your zipper. A single toe hooked under the button. Relief was a breath away. ‘Take it out.’

‘What?’

‘Take it out.’ Her foot pressed down, the arch molding perfectly to your trapped erection. Toe pads dragged firmly along the swollen length. ‘Look at you. Hard just from my feet. Naughty boy.’

‘You’re the reason.’ Your voice was gravel. Her sole pressed harder, feeling the rigid heat through the layers of cotton and denim.¹

Her hands clenched the bedsheets, knuckles taut.

Then - emptiness. Her feet withdrew.

You looked up, lost. ‘Wh - '

Her fingers hooked the waistband of her skirt. A slow, slide down endless legs. The fabric caught briefly on her toes before pooling on the floor. Art unveiled.

You released the chair, transfixed. The air hummed with worn nerves. She planted her feet firmly on the mattress edge, wiggling her toes - a deliberate provocation. Her gaze pinned you, savoring your desperation.

Slowly, deliberately, she ripped the seam of her left stocking. White-painted toes emerged. ‘These were expensive,’ she murmured. ‘I expect… reciprocation.’ The contrast - torn black nylon against creamy skin - was devastating.

‘Take it out.’ This time, it was final. You shoved your boxers down, freeing yourself.

Gawon’s eyes widened. Her left foot landed on your bare thigh, sole searing against skin. Then the right. Both feet bracketed your shaft, radiating unbearable heat just millimeters away.

‘Let me show you what these can do.’ A soft, dangerous smile.

Her feet closed around you. Her warm textured soles around your shaft, bare toes wiggling, brushing. Pressure. Friction. Gawon grinned, your cock trapped between her arches, twitching, helpless, pooling with precum.

She asked you to move closer, ‘Wait - closer. I can - ’

You dragged the chair forward immediately, wood scraping floor. She slid toward the edge. Your hands locked around her thin calves, feeling the flex of muscle beneath nylon.

‘That… works.’ Her breath hitched. One hand slid down her stomach, fingers pressing into soft skin below her navel. Lower. Beneath the lace edge of her panties. A sigh escaped her as her fingers moved slow, shadowing across her lace panties, hints of knuckles, fingers, the soft squelch. Her hand emerged glistening.

‘God. You’re so wet.’ You barely tear out.

‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’ She held up her slick-coated hand. ‘Want it? Be good. Take it.' She wrapped that wetness around your cock. Tight. She spat into her other palm. Both hands worked you now, while her feet maintained their tight grip at the base of your cock, barely moving, but destroying your nerves nonetheless.

Then she moved. Her hand held crown of your cock as her soles pressed heavily on either side. Her hand worked the precum down, her feet worked all of it: saliva, precum, her slick.

You twitched. Back arching. Your grip on her calves was too tight at some point, to which she moaned a soft rebellion: you stopped immediately.

You dug your toes into the carpet, your biceps pulsed, you lost oxygen after every filthy pass of her feet along your length.

And yet,

Her feet never stopped - a slow, torturous undulation against your shaft. The textured nylon dragged and pulled every moan from you, every hunchback position to prevent spilling on her textured soles rubbing against the slit of your cock.

Then just as you half-twitched to completion.

She stopped.

'You want my hand?'

'Yes.' You barely say.

You were prey to Gawon: 'Louder, beg for it.'

'Please. Your hand. My cock. Please.'

Her hand gripped your cock like it was a squeeze toy, a welcome sensation when you're passing in and out of consciousness.

Every downward stroke of her hands synced with her soles pressed hard around your cock.

'Look at you,' she breathed. 'Twitching like a rabbit in a snare.'

A strangled sound escaped you. Her thumbs circled your swollen head, smearing her wetness mixed with yours. Pre-come slicked the path. The schlick-schlick of her pumping hands synced with the shush-shush of nylon soles gliding.

Then she changed rhythm.

Her feet stilled, clamped tight just below the head. Her hands accelerated, twisting on the upstroke, thumb digging into the frenulum.

'Gawon - !'

'Not yet.' Her command was amber and honey and gunpowder pressed to your very nerves. 'You hold it. Hold it for me. Be a good boy.'

Sweat beaded your temples. Your hips jerked, seeking deeper pressure, but her feet held firm, denying release. Muscles trembled - thighs, abdomen, the cords in your neck standing rigid. The need was a live wire sparking behind your eyes.

'You taste the air?' She murmured, inexplicably.

You did. Salt. Her arousal. The tang of overworked nerves.

'That’s you unmaking. That’s what I do. Now, come here. sit here.' She patted on the part of bed between her thighs.

You stood up immediately, sitting between her thighs, her arms now entangled around your waist.

'I have a request.' She pressed a kiss to your jaw.

'Mm.' You reply. Running on fumes.

'I want you to… are you listening?' She says, now soft.

In a flash, her legs wrapped around your waist, her hand wrapped around your cock. Her heels just hovered by the sides of your shaft.

Then her heels dug in.

You let out a groan. In pleasure.

'I want to watch you have sex with Sooin.'

You twitched. You almost came. You groaned too. She's trying to fucking kill you. Her heels moved just so, the muscle of your shaft shifting in turn, her soles now pressed on either side of your shaft.

'Gawon - '

'Fuck Sooin for me. I won't force you. I want you to. I liked it… I liked it when you kissed her.'

'Gawon - ' You breathe. You were about to break. You were twitching. One more move. That's all she needed to break you.

'So?' Waiting for an answer.

Her left foot shifted. Just the big toe, dragging slowly, agonizingly, from root to tip along the pulsing vein underneath your cock. A whimper tore loose. Her hands tightened, twisting harder.

'Ok! I will. Fuck. I'll fuck Sooin. In front of you... I'll cum inside her.'

You groaned, her soles continued its movement, along the length of your cock, the whole of her soles, milking you.

She moaned. She came before you did. She moaned right on the rim of your ear, vibrating her perfect orgasm.

Holy Fucking Shit.

You detonated next.

It was a structural collapse. Spine arching, heels digging into carpet, vision whiting out as heat roared up your spine. Her hands milked every spasm, her feet a warm, grounding weight as you emptied yourself over her fingers, stripes of white landing hot on your stomach, her fingers, the carpet below the bed.

You panted, Gawon held you firm.

Gawon watched, chest rising and falling rapidly, her own arousal glistening visibly now at the lace edge of her panties. She lifted her slick, glazed hand, studying the mess with detached fascination.

'Holy fuck.' She said, spent.

You laughed.

She laughed in turn.

Her foot, still resting against your spent cock, gave one final, proprietary squeeze.

-

Tomorrow. Tomorrow was when everything was gonna happen.

You and Gawon shared a shower. Went along with the routine of days past.

With a commitment etched into eachother's hearts.

-

The day was neutral. Routine. You and gawon showered together. She scoffed when you held her waist with a half-hard cock against her back; all she could offer was, 'Tonight, you'll have all the time you need.' She didn't know how much that made you ache.

The hours ambled past. You and Gawon made rounds to cafes, pet shops, summer trees. Her honey hand was wrapped with yours the entire time, even when clammy: a soft proclamation that the both of you would be through thick and thin.

By evening, you walked nervously with Gawon to Sooin's place. She said everything was arranged. What did that mean?

The walk upstairs was even more nerve-wracking. It was until Gawon hugged you, right outside the door to Sooin's, that you calmed down. 'Sooin deserves the best. You deserve the best. I won't be jealous. I want Sooin to feel loved - more than just a kiss. I want you to understand, more than just sex, that I'll be forever yours.'

'It's a pity I can't throw you against this wall and make love. Hm?' You grin. She grins back. You kiss. You have no idea what you did to deserve Gawon.

The door softly cranked open and Sooin was stood there. Her hands raised perpendicular, waiting for you.

You walked towards her, then hugged her.

Sooin stood on her toes for a moment, readjusting her arms around your neck. She was secure, holding your head, looking at you; maybe she was trying to conceptualize something, something more foreign than just kissing.

Your hands were at her waist now, against her warm skin.

You were already half-hard. Half-dizzy. Crazed: Gawon's watching you, Sooin wants you. Focus, for once, focus.

Two beautiful women, one observing, one right in your arms - the one that isn't your girlfriend. You were confused.

Things were uncoiling. You aren't sure what it was.

'Kiss me. Again. More. As much as it takes.' Sooin whispered, right on your ear. Her moist breath tingling the side of your ear, your face.

Your breath caught. AWOL. You looked at Sooin once more. Her cheeks flush, her breaths heavy, her hair tangled so perfectly around your fingers.

You caught the side of her chin with one hand. Tilting her head just a little, just so, and you touched her lips. She was breathing fast, her heart was beating, you felt it on her lips.

You slid your tongue between her lips, selfishly. mmph she says, christ almighty. You traced her lips, her tongue.

Her arms tightened around your neck, and she took initiative: pushing her tongue deep into your mouth. You moved in response, in surprise. 'Gently' you whisper, she nods; now, licking softly, her tongue to yours, exploring you. Her hands were stretching the quarter-zip that Gawon bought for you.

You were catastrophically hard. You weren't privy to what Gawon was doing, what she was saying, most of all, what her reaction was. You were a deer under spotlight. Sooin coodinating perfectly to make sure you couldn't look at Gawon.

'Was that good?' She asked. Cheeks flush. Breathing heavily. Her hips were gently rocking against you. On your hardness.

'Yes. That… was perfect.' You whisper, just loud enough. Gawon surely heard it. Your cock jerked in excitement.

Without saying anything, you pulled her tight, entering her mouth once more, harder, without sympathy. She squealed something. You kissed her hard. Passionately. Far passionately than before, far more than the other times.

Your arm seized the small of her back. You helped her rock her body against your hardness. She was moaning in tandem with your pushes and pulls.

You looked down to see, to go past concept, to see what you were doing to Sooin. But before then, Sooin pulled your chin again, and kissed you hungrily.

Don't worry.

Just enjoy it.

'Christ almighty Sooin.' You balk, speech almost unintelligible. Desperately clinging to Sooin's body.

'Grind into me. Please.' She begged. That was it. That did it.

You nearly lifted her into the air as you ground yourself deep into her. Separated by cloth. Your cock against her pussy.

She moaned deep into your mouth. Her husky voice destroying a piece of you every time.

'I'm gonna come.'

'Keep going. Please. Keep going.'

You desperately move. Forgetting everything. Concepts forgotten. Just Sooin body perfectly sidled up on your brick-hard cock.

Then:

Gawon wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Forehead against your nape.

'I want in.'

Sooin retreated back. Cheeks red. Breathing heavily.

Gawon’s lips left a searing trail down your neck - half-graze, half-bite - as her fingers hooked the hem of your shirt. Fabric rasped upward, baring skin to the cool air and her hotter mouth. She mapped your shoulders, the tense cord of your triceps, then circled to face you, eyes locked on yours as her tongue flicked a nipple. The jolt went straight to your groin.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

No preamble. No permission asked. Her hands were already at your waistband, deftly working the button, the zipper teeth parting like a sigh. Your fingers tangled in her hair, not guiding, just anchoring, as she sank to her knees.

Behind her, Sooin stood frozen. Back pressed to the doorframe, knuckles white where she gripped the wood. Her breath hitched - a soft, involuntary sound. Gawon heard it. Didn’t turn. Just smiled against your hipbone, her breath humid through the thin cotton of your briefs.

‘Watch,’ Gawon murmured, not to you.

She peeled the briefs down. Your cock sprang free, flushed and straining and dripping with pre cum. Gawon’s gaze didn’t leave Sooin’s face as she took you into her mouth.

Her cheeks hollowed out, a gentle sucking noise rang out as your knees almost buckled right then and there.

The soft whimpers of Gawon going deeper.

The slick noise of her tongue circling the head.

Sooin made a sound - a whimper trapped in her throat. Gawon hummed around you, the vibration ricocheting up your spine. Encouragement? Mockery? Impossible to tell.

‘Gawon - ’ you choked out.

She pulled off with a filthy pop. ‘Patience.’ Her hand replaced her mouth, stroking slowly. Deliberate. Theatrical. ‘She’s never seen this, has she? Never seen how pretty a man comes apart.’

Sooin’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed on Gawon’s hand moving on your shaft. A fevered flush crept up her neck.

Gawon’s free hand reached back, blind, and found Sooin’s wrist. ‘Touch him,’ she ordered, voice thick around the command. ‘Just here.’ She guided Sooin’s trembling fingers to your hip, to the tense muscle jumping beneath sweat-damp skin. ‘Feel how hard he is for us.’

Sooin’s touch was feather-light. Terrified. Electrifying. Her fingertips traced the V of your pelvis, then flinched back.

‘Look at him,’ Gawon insisted, taking you deep again, hollowing her cheeks. _‘Look at what we do to him.’

Sooin’s breath stuttered. This time, when her hand returned, it didn’t tremble. Her palm flattened against your stomach, feeling the clench and release of muscle as Gawon sucked harder, faster. Her thumb brushed the base of your cock where Gawon’s lips stretched tight.

Two hands now. Two women. One unbearable friction.

Gawon moaned around you - a sound of pure satisfaction - and Sooin echoed it, softer, wonderstruck. Her nails bit lightly into your hip as Gawon took you to the hilt, throat working, eyes watering but never closing, never looking away from Sooin’s rapt, overwhelmed face.

Gawon’s throat flexed - a tight, rippling swallow against the head of your cock. Her nose pressed into your base. You felt the ridge of your crown catch momentarily on the tense ring of muscle at the back of her mouth before she forced herself deeper, her throat opening in a practiced spasm. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, tracking mascara-smudged paths down her flushed cheeks. She didn’t blink. Didn’t look away from you.

Her lips sealed impossibly tight around the root, the stretch burning. You felt the thump thump thump of her pulse through the soft flesh of her palate, pressed directly against your straining underside. Saliva overflowed, thick and slick, dripping down your shaft onto Sooin’s hand still splayed on your lower belly. The warm rivulet traced a path through the sweat-sheened skin.

Gawon held you there, buried to the hilt. Her breath came in short, desperate sniffs through flared nostrils, unable to inhale fully. Her jaw trembled with the effort. A low, guttural hum vibrated through her throat and into your cock - a physical buzz deep in your core.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, she retreated. Her throat released its grip with a wet, sucking pop. Your cock slid back through the tight tunnel of her mouth, every ridge, every vein catching exquisitely on her tongue, her palate, her teeth held carefully back. Her tongue flattened beneath you, a hot, broad pressure massaging the sensitive frenulum as she withdrew. Cool air hit the slick length for a fraction of a second before her lips, swollen and red, sealed back around the head.

Her tongue pressed hard under your cock, making you wince with pleasure, all the joints of your body gridlocked under blissful tyranny. Her lips pulsed around your shaft, the softness of the inside of her mouth, molded around your shaft, all velvety and fucking outrageous, dragging horribly along your length, the suction of her lips making a meek sound as it passed the crown of your cock.

Her hands never stopping working the base of your shaft and your balls. Switching rhythmically, squeezing lightly, fingers rolling your sac, just so, just so.

'Fuck. Gawon.'

'God. I love you. And this cock. And everything.' She breathed out, all flush and bothered, intermittently sending a hand down her panties, knuckles shadowing along her panties as she fucked herself on her fingers.

Gawon's saliva ran glistening along your shaft. Before it could pass down your legs, her lips surrounded your shaft again. Slicking Sooin's fingers where they still pressed against your hip. The sound was obscene: wet schlicks on the upstroke, guttural swallows of choked gasps when she surfaced, the constant drip onto skin.

Her hot gusts fanned your wet skin when she, occasionally, came up for air: short, sharp inhalations followed by low moans directed at you, directed at her fingers working on her pussy, before she plunged down again.

Sooin’s hand on your hip shifted. Her thumb found the taut tendon running from your hip bone towards your groin. She pressed into the rigid cord of muscle, her nail scraping lightly through the sweat and Gawon’s spit. Her other hand, the one Gawon had guided, lifted from your belly. You felt her hesitation in the air above your cock, then the tentative brush of a fingertip against the slick, spit-sheened head - just below where Gawon’s lips were sealed. A jolt shot through you.

Gawon felt it too. Her eyes, locked on Sooin’s, narrowed slightly. She increased the suction, hollowing her cheeks sharply, pulling Sooin’s focus back to her mouth, her control. She released you with another filthy pop, saliva stringing between her lower lip and your crown.

'See?' Gawon rasped, her voice wrecked. She didn't break eye contact with Sooin. Her tongue darted out, broad and pink, lapping at the pre-come beading at your tip, collecting it messily. 'See how he leaks for it?' She guided your cockhead back to her lips, her tongue swirling over the slit once more before taking you in, not deep this time, just the head, sucking hard and fast, her cheeks collapsing inward. 'All this… just from my mouth. Imagine.'

Gawon looked at you once again. This time, she stood up, wrapping her arms around your neck before kissing the side of your face, then pressing her tongue deep into your mouth.

Sooin stood there, wet-handed, even flusher, but she still just stood there: waiting, patiently.

'Sooin.'

That was all she had to say for Sooin to rush back towards you. But before she came, Gawon pushed you. You lost the abiltiy to maintain balance a long time ago, your knees were fucked, your brain was totally fucked. You were just fucked.

So you fell. Onto the bed.

'Calculated.' You breathe, masking the previous panic in your voice.

'Always.' Gawon says. And she leans on you, her knees on the bed. Hand on your wet cock.

Her lips surrounded your nipple, and a faint suction ran through your entire body.

Gawon's hand, the one taht was preoccupied with stroking you into madness, pulled for Sooin to come. And, again, she did.

Knees on the bed.

Palpably close to your cock, Sooin kneeled closer. And her lips pressed warm against your nipple.

Gawon motioned for Sooin, something unspoken, and you felt her hand wrap around your shaft.

Schlick.

Her moved. Her hands were smaller. Warmer. Tighter.

Schlick.

'Sit on him.' Gawon said. You darted up to look at them. Sooin was silent, eyes wide, her hand stopped moving.

'Are you sure?'

'Sit on him. Dear.'

The side of your chest where Gawon stayed was warm, she was there, looking at Sooin, she slid off your body, steadying herself. Her skin glanced off the sunlight, she was paler, a born deer surrounded by two wolves.

You were complicit in her ruin. You knew it now. Your cock grew harder the more you looked; soft skin, large bosom, thick thighs. You took a deep breath when Sooin straddled you, your lungs ballooned, the sides of her inner thighs pressed to your outer thighs. Her body was just inches off your rock-hard cock.

Gawon slid behind Sooin. Sooin didn’t turn - her gaze stayed locked on you, lips swollen and bitten red. The snick of a bra clasp echoed in the quiet. The garment slid down Sooin’s arms and landed in your lap, warm from her skin.

'Ah.'

Their laughter tangled - light, nervous. Gawon’s hand darted out, snatching the bra away.

Sooin’s breasts were bare now, high and full, nipples flushed pink. Your gut clenched, a visceral pull to bury yourself inside her - now.

She crossed her arms over her chest. 'You’re grinning,' Gawon observed, mischievious.

'I know.'

'Approved?' Gawon’s tone was all edges.

'Jesus. Are you blind?' You shifted closer, easing Sooin back against your chest. She was gentle, her back was arched. She was so so soft. Her bare shoulders trembled.

'Mm!' Sooin gasped as your thigh brushed her inner leg.

'Okay?' you murmured.

She nodded, cheeks blazing with red.

A hand closed around your cock - Gawon’s. Her thumb pressed the leaking tip. 'Hard as marble. Is this for her?'

You stayed silent. The answer pulsed in her grip.

Sooin arched when Gawon’s other hand slid between her legs, palming her through damp cotton. 'It’s really happening. Oh fuck, it's really happening.' Sooin breathed, pinned between you.

Gawon hooked a finger in the waistband of Sooin’s panties. Look. She peeled the fabric aside.

Wet heat glistened. No barriers left.

-

You traced Sooin’s inner thigh, feeling the jump of her muscle. 'Tell me.' 'I want' Sooin’s voice frayed. 'Just… touch me first.'

Gawon’s hand left your cock, guiding yours to Sooin’s center. 'Here.' Your fingers met slick heat. Sooin whimpered.

'Like this?' You circled her clit, her viscous slick covering the pads of your fingers. Holy fuck. Sooin’s head fell back against Gawon. 'Yes. God - yes.'

Gawon bit Sooin’s shoulder, leaving a red bloom. 'He needs to feel you. Ready?' Sooin nodded, frantic.

You lined up, the head of your cock nudging her entrance. Her hips jerked. 'Wait,' Gawon ordered. She spat into her palm, slicked your length. 'Now.'

You pushed in - slow. Sooin cried out, back bowing. 'Breathe,' Gawon commanded, pinning Sooin’s hips down. 'Take it.'

Sooin’s walls clenched, scalding tight. 'More - ' You thrust deeper. She sobbed, nails scraping your forearm.

Gawon watched. She moved to the side of the bed, sitting next to you. Hand on her mound - fingers moving. She breathed soft. She was looking at you, how you moved into Sooin. You met her eyes, once or twice. Making sure she saw, how your hips crushed against Sooin. Gawon's grin didn't leave her, her lust-gleamed eyes didn't change. Her fingers were still inside of her. In the background, as you stared at Gawon, Sooin let out pitiful moans that was more inspiration than anything else.

You moved deeper. Found her shoulder to bite on. Her pussy was wet, hot, her slick passed through your entire shaft, collecting down your balls.

'I'm fucking losing it. I'm fucking losing it.' She repeated, in your ear. You went faster.

Her hips moved up, your hands pulling as support, and she crashed back down. Her ass against your thighs. Smack.

She let out a pitiful moan again.

She moved back to find a different position. Her breasts bounced up and down. Your cock ground against her g-spot. She came.

She came just like that.

'Ahhh. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck' She buried her head in your shoulder. Trembled. Lost herself. Regained herself. Grinded her hips just a little. Letting your cock move and scrape against her sensitive spots.

'How does it feel? His cock grinding you. All inside you. Stretching you out.' Gawon's hand held Sooin's sweaty nape.

It wasn't question: an observation.

Her pink pussy was swollen around you. Morphed around you. Her stomach moved as her diaphragm collected oxygen. It felt unreal, her pussy tightening as she breathed in and out. It reminded you of a grounding detail, as the pause ensued: fucking Sooin as your girlfriend watched.

This time, Gawon's hand wrapped behind you, and she kissed you; first, on your ear, a tender, wet kiss that traced the outline of your ear; then, as you tried to kiss her back, her finger hovered over your chin, and pushed it back: 'I'm a spectator.' That was all she said.

Sooin was still breathing softly, her forehead still pressed against your left shoulder. The sides of her body still moved in accordance of her breaths, her humid breath hovered on your collarbone - worn out, high on bliss.

'Slap me.'

What?

'What?' You say, this time, with your mouth. Doubly processing.

'I want you to slap me.'

You look at Gawon, only to find her smiling.

The only clueless person in the room - you. [1]

-

[1] The exact moment your brain, which was previously operating on a simple "This is nice / This is weird / This is hot" flowchart, blue-screens entirely. It's the dawning, ice-water horror of realizing that the other two players in this… scenario… have apparently been co-authoring a very specific Google Doc of Kinks & Agendas in a shared folder you were never invited to.

-

Sooin blew air at you. You looked, she was smiling, still rawing from the pleasure, and then, just then, kissed you.

You locked your arms behind her back, and pressed your cock so deep that she groaned into your mouth. Her tongue moved in frantic movements as you pressed deeper and deeper into her; her folds pressed wet against the base of your shaft. You let the kiss go - to Sooin's dismay: mouth open and dizzy and flushed - to press your face against the space between her breasts; on either side, there was hills of perfect upswell dotted with pinkish nipples. You held her firmer as you plowed into her. She was still, victim to her pleasure, moaning, groaning, releasing her slick - some of it dripping on the carpet.

You saw Gawon move behind Sooin in your periphery. A sharp crack echoed - Gawon’s palm landing hard on Sooin’s ass. Sooin yelped, her fingers digging into the back of your neck. You held her hips down against your lap, your cock buried deep inside her, and delivered your own stinging slap to her other cheek. The flesh jiggled, already flushed.

'Thought you could just take and take, little thief?' Gawon hissed, naked, pressing her front against Sooin’s sweaty back. Her lips brushed Sooin’s ear. 'Squeeze her tight. Make her gush. Let her ruin her own fucking carpet.'

No more talk needed.

You stood, lifting Sooin’s legs, hooking them over your shoulders. She groaned, back arching, as the angle drove you impossibly deeper, the head of your cock grinding against her cervix. A raw, punched-out whimper escaped her - she was still trembling from her last climax.

You pulled her ass back, just enough for the tip to catch, then slammed home. A wet thwack of flesh meeting flesh. Sooin shrieked. You grunted, the force driving your hips forward.

Glancing down, you saw Gawon on her knees between Sooin’s splayed legs. One hand was frantically rubbing her own swollen clit. The other hand rose and fell in weak, almost spastic slaps against Sooin’s reddened ass. 'Close… oh fuck, close,' Gawon gasped, her voice thin and strained.

Sooin’s ass slammed against your hips again, slicker now. The wet sound was obscene - a mix of her slick, her cum, your pre-cum, smearing across skin and dripping onto the carpet below. The air reeked of sex and sweat.

Gawon’s head snapped back. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she came, her hips bucking against her own hand, her weak slaps stopping entirely as her body seized. 'Yes! Fuck! YES!'

The sight, the sound, the feel of Sooin’s cunt clamping down like a slick fist - it pushed you over the edge. 'Gonna - !' you managed, pulling out just as the first hot pulse surged up your shaft.

'Fuck! Fuck!' Sooin sobbed, her body convulsing. Her swollen pussy clenched around nothing, and a gush of clear fluid splattered onto the carpet between her thighs, soaking into the fibers. 'Oh god! Oh god!' she gasped between desperate cries, her hips jerking as she squirted again.

You gave her no respite. Still hard, still throbbing, you shoved back into her sopping, pink entrance. This time, you crushed your mouth to hers, swallowing her gasps as you fucked her through her own aftershocks. Deep, punishing strokes. The final sprint.

You buried yourself to the root, grinding hard. 'Fuck!' The growl ripped from your chest as you locked Sooin against you, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. You emptied yourself deep inside her - one thick, hot rope after another, painting her inner walls, each pulse kissing her cervix. Your balls tightened, drawn up, as Gawon ducked her head, hollowing her cheeks to suck them greedily, swallowing what spilled.

'You… filled me,' Sooin breathed against your lips, dazed.

You kissed her, deep.

You thrust twice more, shallow and possessive, grinding your spend deeper into her core. Then you pulled out with a wet suck.

Thick globs of your cum spurted onto the soaked carpet, joining her slick puddle. One stray pulse landed on Gawon’s waiting tongue. She closed her mouth, swallowing.

You lowered Sooin onto the bed. She collapsed, chest heaving, looking up at you with glazed, awestruck eyes.

Your gaze locked onto Gawon. She was still panting, her own climax lingering. On her knees, she shuffled forward until her face was level with your softening cock, still glistening with a mix of your spend and Sooin’s slick. She let the heavy head rest on her tongue for a heartbeat, tasting it, before closing her lips around your shaft. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking firmly, cleaning every inch with slow swipes of her tongue.

To be continued.

a\n: And here we are! Hopefully this fic isn't too bad, I forgot how to write, and then maybe remembered…. idk. So for a few updates, I think releases will be monthly. Commissions are a bit of an issue - since i live somewhere where receiving payments or even operating a paypal account is strictly forbidden - so I decided to close the Ko-Fi account. When push comes to shove, and I mean when I'm really seeking money, I may find a work around. For now, here are my free works: monthly, utterly imperfect, barely edited, yet here. right here.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 1

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 1 Tsumsitters (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 600 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The beginning of the Riddle's part is the same as in the request, but I added a little bit more scenario after that.

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

Yuutsum 3 (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

.

With your Tsum in your arms, you find Ace and Deuce, leaning over with their hands on their knees as if they were catching their breath after a run. They look at you first, but quickly the cute little creature you hold in your arms catches their attention. They both have that look on their faces like they think it's the cutest and most beautiful little thing in the world but don't want to admit it.

They say that Riddle also has one of those and it was the one they were chasing and trying to catch, but they lost it. The moment they said Riddle’s name, you felt your Tsum move enthusiastically for a moment.

They hear something, when they look they see Riddle-tsum in the distance and run towards it, starting the chase again. Your Tsum jumps out of your arms and runs with them, which makes you run after them too.

Your Tsum passes Ace and Deuce, which surprises them because they were so fast, and throws itself at Riddle-tsum, rolling together for a few seconds until they both stop. When this happened, Riddle-tsum didn't run away again, and the two were rubbing each other's cheeks happily.

Ace grabbed Riddle-tsum while it was distracted. It seemed upset about being caught. But the moment Deuce grabbed your Tsum that upsetness turn into anger. Riddle-tsum jumped out of Ace's arms, hits him in the face and threw itself right in Deuce's face to make him release your Tsum. Once back on the ground, Riddle-tsum positioned itself between your Tsum and those two, glaring threateningly at Ace and Deuce.

Once again, it doesn't run away. You finally get close to them and approach the tsums. When Riddle-tsum sees you it relaxes again and looks at you with admiration. As if looking at a royalty.

Ace and Deuce suggest that you try taking them both to Heartslabyul, as Riddle-tsum doesn't seem to like either of them. They were small enough for you to be able to carry them both in your arms without any problems.

You take them both in your arms and Riddle-tsum immediately turns red. It looked like a tomato in white clothes, and it writhed as if it wanted to hide in your arms in embarrassment. When you arrive at Heartslabyul, Riddle-tsum's blush had already subsided.

“Ah, prefect.” Riddle says when he sees you, Ace and Deuce arriving. “I see you were the one who managed to catch...” He looks at your arms to see his tsum, but his gaze automatically goes to your tsum instead. “Oh, there is one similar to you too. It looks... as charming as you.” he blushes just a little.

After explaining how you three caught Riddle-tsum, Ace suggests that they leave you and your Tsum with Riddle-tsum to prevent it from escaping again or causing trouble. Or hurt someone else. Riddle hesitates at first, as he is the one responsible for taking care of his tsum, but soon after, Riddle-tsum hits a student for breaking some rule and Riddle starts arguing with it so he stops attacking others.

You place a hand on Riddle's shoulder to try to calm him down a little and at that moment both of your attention went to your tsums. Your Tsum was between you and Riddle-tsum.

“You know, they remind me of the hedgehogs in a way.” Riddle says “And now they are reminding me of when they come closer to smell each other or to rub each other's noses. I can't deny that I find it quite cute whenever they do it.”

And then your Tsum starts rubbing its little round nose against Riddle-tsum's and caressing it to calm it down. And it works. It returns the affection by staying very close to your Tsum.

Riddle blushes a little again, and says that, reconsidering Ace's suggestion and if you want, you could take care of your tsums together.

You were walking with your Tsum in your arms when you saw Cater and his Tsum on Main Street. Cater-tsum seemed to be curled defensively around something Cater was trying to retrieve.

“Look, you can't have it, okay?!” You hear Carter say to his Tsum as you get close to them.

You greet him by asking what they are doing. Cater gives you a quick glance before turning his attention back to Cater-tsum, as if he's afraid that if he looks away it'll escape.

“Hey, (Y/N)-chan! I'm trying to get my-” He quickly looks back at you, more specifically at the adorable little thing you have in your arms. “Oh!... My!... Great Seven!” He turns his body towards you, his gaze so fixed on your Tsum that he doesn't even blink. “YOU HAVE A TSUMMY TOO! And it's the most adorable little thing I've ever seen in my life!”

Suddenly you both got jumpscared as something jumps towards you. It was Cater-tsum jumping into your arms! Despite the scare, you manage to catch it and it starts to nestle into your arms and cuddle your Tsum. Cater looks at the floor where Tsum was and sees his cell phone left behind. He retrieves it.

“We HAVE to take a pic of them!” Cater says excitedly “No! We have to do a whole photoshoot! Here! It's a great place to start.”

If you like taking pictures, your Tsum will be very excited. If you are shy, your Tsum will turn around to hide its face in your arms.

“Awwwww~ That’s even more adorable! Pwease! I beg you~" He says to your Tsum. Cater-tsum will also make pleading eyes at your Tsum.

The four of you spend a lot of time taking pictures in different places. Both pictures of the Tsums and of you with Cater. Until Cater and his Tsum have enough pictures to finally let you and your Tsum rest.

You sit on a bench, you with your Tsum on your lap and Cater with his Tsum on his lap, both of them editing photos on his cell phone. However, you feel your Tsum move and leave your lap to headbutt Cater's hand that was holding the cell phone, making it fall against his belly. After that, your tsum just stands there looking at Cater-tsum with a slightly annoyed look. Cater-tsum smiles with its tiny eyes and jumps against your tsum so they can cuddle each other.

Cater looks at the Tsums protecting the cell phone against his chest, watches them for a moment and then looks at you.

“Hey, if you want to do the same, just need to ask, you know~?” Cater says and winks at you.

If you accept, he'll put an arm around your shoulders and edit the photos with you, while your two Tsums cuddle on your laps.

Your Tsum was restless, impatient. It really wanted to go somewhere. So you pick it up and walk around campus trying to understand where it wants to go. Fortunately you don't need to walk far, as the botanical garden is one of the closest points to Ramshackle Dorm.

As soon as you enter, your tsum jumps out of your arms and starts jumping (its way of running) somewhere in the middle of some bushes. And you know that spot well. As soon as you stop seeing it, you hear a patient growl.

“Another one?” You hear Leona's voice. “Hey! What do you think you're doing?!” You follow the voice, pass through the bushes and see Leona lying down with two tsums on top of his torso. Your Tsum and Leona-tsum, cuddled up like two cats sleeping with each other.

“Herbivore, get your stuffie thing out of here and take the one that looks like me with you too. I'm not a nest to have two pesky armadillos sleeping on top of me!”

You kneel down next to him, looking at Leona-tsum with that “HE’S SO CUTE!” twinkle in your eyes. Leona-tsum looks at you and its sleepy eyes suddenly open, almost bulging. And it jumps onto your chest, knowing you would catch it.

“You got one.” Leona said. “Just one more to-” He interrupted himself, looking at his chest and seeing your tsum rising until it approached his face.

If you look at his face, you will see Leona's pupils dilating. And your tsum snuggling against his chest. You comment that you don't think your tsum will want to leave his side.

“Why don't you walk away with that one and see what happens? Maybe yours will follow.”

You are also curious to know what would happen. Leona-tsum was already sleeping in your arms.

You walk away with it, towards the exit of the botanical garden. Halfway there it wakes up and you feel it move in your arms. You stop and look at it. It seemed to have an annoyed look on its face, very similar to what Leona does when things aren't going according to his plans. You open your mouth to say or ask something, but it's Leona's voice that can be heard throughout the botanical garden.

“OI!” You hear Leona growl in annoyance. “Who do you think you are demanding anythin’ from me?!” And then you hear him roar.

You come back with Leona-tsum in your arms, and you find your tsum pulling one of Leona's braids towards you as if it wanted to force him to come to you.

“This thing really takes after you.” he comments, in a tone reminiscent of a father irritated with a child he deep down loves.

Leona-tsum jumps out of your arms and lazily approaches your tsum. Your tsum lets go of Leona's braid.

You both see Leona-tsum rubbing its cheek on your Tsum's cheek, and making a movement as if it was licking your Tsum's face. After calming your tsum down, the two of them curl up to sleep together.

“Well, at least they're not bothering me anymore.” Leona says. He closes his eyes, but right after, he opens one of them again to look at you. “If you're also going to stay here with your stuffie thing, at least be useful. This floor isn't the best pillow, you know?” He makes that gesture for you to come closer with his index finger.

And if you let him use your lap to lie down, he will fall asleep in 3 seconds, just like his Tsum did.

You were in the Ramshackle Dorm Lounge with your Tsum and Grim was in your bedroom, probably taking a nap after eating too much, when you hear someone knocking at the door. You go open the door, leaving your Tsum on the couch. You do it and see Jack.

“Hi (Y/N). Sorry to bother you, but this Tsum-” Before Jack could finish his sentence, you saw something near your feet come barreling through the door. You look back in time to see Jack-tsum turn to enter the Lounge. “Ah! Sorry. It won't sit still. Let's catch it before it does any damage.”

The two of you go to the lounge and stop right at the entrance. Jack-tsum was on the couch with your Tsum. Jack-tsum was jumping around your Tsum, its little tail wagging like crazy, and its eyes shining while also rubbing its face against your Tsum’s as if licking it. It was just like a puppy wanting to play.

“OI!” Jack shouted “Don't mess up (Y/N)'s couch!”

Jack-tsum sulked and your Tsum jumped from the couch to the floor. Jack-tsum followed it. Your Tsum approached Jack and smiled at him with its eyes, as if it were greeting him.

“Hum?” Jack’s ears pricked up as he looked down. “You also have a Tsum similar to you.” He didn't realize his tail had started wagging.

Jack-tsum followed your Tsum and you felt the need to bend down to see Jack-tsum up close. It looked at you with big bright eyes and its tail wagging wildly. You comment on how cute it is and reach out to pet it.

“Be careful.” Jack warns you “It doesn't let anyone...” You start to pet its head as it leans in your hand. “... touch it... What's the deal with this thing? Whenever anyone approached it would either move away or growl at them. How did you do that? I can't even catch it to take it to Savanaclaw.”

You say you don't know what you did either, if anything special. And you comment that it seems to like you. This makes Jack blush slightly.

“How would it not?” he says softly, and without meaning to. He clears his throat. “Um, do you mind if we stay here for a while? It seems to have finally settle down a bit.”

Your tsum goes to Jack-tsum's side and they both look at you as if begging you to say yes. You agree and the two Tsums bounce happily for a moment before they start running around the lounge together.

“OI! You two be careful!” Jack warns “Don't break or mess anything up, you hear?!”

You laugh and comment on how much you think Jack and his Tsum look alike.

“It's just the hair and the outfit.” he says a little embarrassed “Do I look round and soft?!”

“Round maybe not but soft...” You laugh and he blushes.

Before he could open his mouth to try to respond to that, the tsums started running towards you and ended up bump into you as they passed, which made you lose your balance. Jack catches you.

“What did I say?” he shouts to the tsums. He looks at you. "Are you okay?" in his arms, and he releases you, blushing a little. “Sorry about that.” he rubs the back of his neck. “It had never done this.”

“Maybe it was a bad influence.” you say and look at the Tsums. From the looks on their faces, especially your Tsum’s, it wasn't an accident.

You were walking down the Main Street with your Tsum in your arms when you hear footsteps running behind you, approaching quickly. You turn around in shock and see a very tall figure right in front of you. Then you realize it's Floyd.

“Boo~” Floyd smiles at you with something writhing violently in his arms. You look and see his Tsum trying to get free. You also notice, by the way he is holding Floyd-tsum, that he is using a lot of force. “Hi Koebi-chan~. Whatcha doin'~?” He sees something in your arms and looks to find your Tsum. “Woo! You have one too! And it looks so small and weak like you, how cute! He he.”

(What you don't know is that what really happened was that Floyd-tsum was loose and took off running when it saw you. The footsteps you heard were Floyd running to catch it before Floyd-tsum caught you first.)

Your Tsum made a sulky face, while Floyd-tsum continued to struggle in Floyd's arms. You say Floyd-tsum is also very cute, it stops and looks at you with smiling little eyes.

“Do you wanna play with it?” Floyd asks and you say yes. “Sure, but careful how you handle it. It’s easy to set this guy-” The moment he let his arms go slack for a second, Floyd-tsum jumped into your arms.

With difficulty, but you managed to catch it without letting your tsum fall. Now you had them both in your arms. You saw it squeezing your tsum while it snuggled into your arms. However, your tsum didn't seem uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it felt like a passionate everyday hug.

Between letting Floyd-tsum jump out of his arms, until realizing that it wouldn't hurt you, Floyd stared at his Tsum with that serious face that all students who know him the least bit fear.

“Aw~ Aren't they cute together?” he says with his usual relaxed expression. He sees that you are having difficulty holding both tsums. “Let them go. They can walk on their own. Or hop, I guess.”

You do so. The two Tsums land on the ground and Floyd-tsum jumps up to continue hugging your Tsum. But before it can, Floyd quickly picks up your Tsum in his arms and starts squeezing it too.

“MY TURN!” Floyd says to his Tsum.

This one sulks, looks at you and jumps back towards you. You catch it and it hugs your forearm. You and Floyd laugh, until the pressure in your arm starts to increase to the point where it starts to hurt. The moment you grimace, Floyd's expression changes, he lets go of your tsum and rips his off your arm.

“I warned you.” he says to his tsum, with the same face he uses to threaten students who don't pay Azul. “Someone is not keeping their side of the deal.”

Floyd-tsum manages to escape and hugs your tsum again, but without hurting it. Floyd looks at you, who looks slightly sad, and sees you rubbing the forearm that Tsum was squeezing. He holds your wrist to see better. There is a slight reddish mark. He lets go of your wrist, turns to the Tsums and lifts his foot as if to step on his tsum. Before you could stop him, your tsum does it, getting out of Floyd-tsum's embrace and positioning itself between it and Floyd's sole when he was about to hit his Tsum. He looks at your tsum's fearless face for a moment and laughs heartily.

“HA HA HA HA! It also takes after you, Koebi-chan~” He puts his foot back on the ground and turns back to you. “We were going to Mostro Lounge. Do you want to come?”

With your Tsum in your arms, you were walking down Main Street when you heard a scream. It sounded like someone was being attacked by a dog or something. You follow the sound and see Epel, another Pomefiore student, and an Epel-tsum attacking this student while Epel tries to stop it.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and runs (or hops) towards them until it stops between Epel-tsum and the student, preventing the tsum from attacking him again. And then, your tsum headbutted Epel-tsum so hard that it even knocked it upside down for a moment. Enough time for Epel to catch it. The other student runs away and Epel-tsum begins to struggle in Epel's arms.

“Stop it!” Epel complained “Ya can't go aroun´ attackin´ students!”

You approach them asking if everything is okay and if he needs help. Epel-tsum stops and looks at you. You smile when you see that Epel also has a tsum and comment on how cute it is (like any tsum).

“No! Don't call it that!” The Tsum manages to jump out of Epel's arms and towards you.

He panics, but instead of the Tsum hitting you, it lands in your arms and just looks at you with a sulky face. You say it's still being cute, and once again, instead of it attacking you, its little face turns red with blush.

Epel freezes, completely confused for a moment until he thinks about what could be the possible reason for you being the only person who called the Tsum cute and it didn't attack. And when he thinks of the most likely reason, he also blushes.

Your tsum also jumped into Epel's arms, surprising him. It smiles at him with its cute little eyes and his blush deepens. Your voice is the only thing that makes Epel look away from your Tsum, asking if you could accompany him and his Tsum if they were going to Pomefiore.

In his dorm, needless to say, Rook wasted no time praising the Tsums, both Epel's and yours. But since Epel's Tsum didn't seem to appreciate the comments very much, especially if they focused on the fact that it was cute, Rook ended up turning his attention to your Tsum, which ended up bothering Epel's Tsum even more.

“It looks like someone is jaloux.” Rook says smiling amused.

That was the only thing that made Epel-tsum throw itself at him, to attack. Rook dodged it like a bullfighter with the grace of someone who was expecting it. Epel panicked and quickly picked up his tsum and apologized to Rook.

“There is no reason to apologize, Monsieur Pommette.” Rook says, loving the situation more than he should. “Truly. I must confess that my provocation was premeditated. C'est tellement beau to see your true feelings and emotions through your Tsum's lack of filter.”

“WHA-?! WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

Rook just laughs, winks at Epel and starts walking towards the door. Halfway there he passes you, leans over and whispers in your ear: “Could you tame the little beast for us, Trickster?” and leaves.

Epel's Tsum struggled in his arms, angry... with jealousy.

Your Tsum was restless, impatient. It really wanted to go somewhere. So you pick it up and walk around campus trying to understand where it wants to go. You leave Ramshackle Dorm, pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors.

As soon as you enter, your Tsum escapes from your arms and quickly jumps until it enters the mirror to Diasmonia. You follow it, but you realize that you lost sight of it the moment it passed through the mirror.

“Good afternoon, (Y/N)!” Lilia is the first to come and greet you. “To what do we owe such a wonderful surprise visit?”

You tell him about your tsum.

“Ah yes! Sebek also has a cute little lookalike. I can't wait to see yours. Although if it's as adorable or even more adorable than you, we're going to have a cuteness overdose problem in this dorm. Khe he. Well, from what I understand, and despite Sebek denying it, the personality of these tsums is very similar to the personality of those they physically resemble. So if your tsum wanted to come here, where do you think it would have gone? Where would you want to go?”

You don't think about a ‘where’ but rather a ‘who’ and that may have shown on your face, beacuse Lilia laughs amusedly.

“So maybe your tsum went to meet someone? Maybe a fellow tsum? Khe he he. I suggest we look for Malleus. Wherever he is, Sebek and Silver will be there too.”

The two of you head to the lounge, but before you get there you can already hear all the commotion. Aka: Sebek’s thunderous voice.

“Don't look at me like that! No matter who your looks resemble, you're bothering Malleus-sama and meddling in our, I mean my guard duties!”

“Actually,” You hear Malleus's patient voice say. “I am quite enjoying this little one's presence. It's as pleasant as (Y/N)'s own presence. Wouldn't you agree, Sebek?”

“HM?! Yes! Of course sir! Please forgive me for implying that this Tsum's presence was inconvenient.”

You and Lilia arrive at the lounge and approach those two. Sebek, as expected, was standing very straight next to Malleus, who was sitting in one of the sofas. Coming closer, you see that both your Tsum and Sebek's Tsum are in Malleus' lap. And Sebek-tsum looked like it was... about to cry?

“AWW~ Look at you.” Lilia said, your Tsum turned to him. “You are even cuter than I imagined. *sigh* What an unfair competition.”

The moment Sebek-tsum sees you is when it finally starts crying.

“HUM?! What is wrong with you?” Sebek inquires. “You are such a strange creature.”

“I think it's too much emotion to see so many people it likes together.” Lilia says with a smirk.

“W-Well, regardless, it should learn to control itself!”

You come closer, worried about Sebek-tsum, and ask if it would like a hug to feel better. It looks at you, then at Malleus, back at you, Malleus, you, Malleus, and on until it almost gets dizzy and the indecision seems to make it more sad.

“I think I have an idea.” Malleus says. “(Y/N), would you like to sit next to me?”

You sit down, he asks you to come closer until your thighs touch, so he can place Sebek-tsum on both of your laps at the same time. It, still in tears, seemed to be thanking Malleus with his eyes and head.

“How intelligent and generous, my liege!” Even Sebek himself had a tear in the corner of his eye.

He was about to continue his praise when your Tsum jumped from Malleus' lap into Sebek's hands. He caught it as if he was saving it from a fall. It looked at him and smiled with its eyes.

“How precious.” He said with a tender smile, as he was still emotional about Malleus's act. Then he realized what he had just said and blushed in embarrassment. But he didn't stop holding your Tsum.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[mooningningg]

Extra Credit - Megumi F. (1)

about. you're flunking all your subjects. He’s a virgin. So you strike a deal—he tutors you academically to win a girl he has a crush on, and you tutor him in sex, simple.

parts. chapter 02

pairings. nerd!megumi x popular girl!reader

words. 9.98K

content. virgin!megumi + experienced!reader, Reader is bitchy, shameless, and borderline evil, Power dynamics, teasing, and manipulation (played for fun), Academic tutoring meets sexual awakening, Dirty talk, suggestive dialogue, and tension, Enemies-to-situationship vibes, Peer drama, rejection, and fake confidence, Strong language & mature themes. ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP I DON'T WANT NO SMOKE OR SOMEONE BEING A HATER IN MY COMMENTS.

notes. gettt ready for... nothing. okay loosen up guys this is the first part, ts gonna get real freaky soon.

You’ve spent years building this life. This persona. This untouchable version of yourself that walks through crowded halls like she owns the oxygen, like she invented stilettos and secrets and made everyone swear allegiance to both. You bled for this throne—painted your face with warpaint, walked over corpses of friendships that couldn’t survive your rise, and kissed boys you didn’t even like just to prove you could.

So no, you don’t believe in letting anyone ruin you. Not backstabbing bitches with double-tap apologies. Not fake friends who can’t wait to see you fall. And especially not men who think with their fucking dicks. Satan himself could knock on your locker and offer a deal, and you’d slam it in his face.

But there was a time—god, there was a time—you let your guard down. You let him in. Let him press kisses into the hollow of your throat and pretend that counted as love. You let him ruin you, suck the life out of you like he was starving and you were it. You let yourself feel something close to... what? Affection? Love? Whatever your twisted definition of it is. You loved him. You did.

And you hated yourself for it.

The fights. The screaming matches over nothing. The breaks that were never clean. The makeup sex that felt like war disguised as worship. The cold silences and the games and the passive-aggressive posts you’d both pretend weren’t about each other.

You were still a nasty bitch through it all. Always would be. But he cracked your armor—and that made you hate him just a little more than you hated yourself.

Now, he’s out of the picture. Again. This time, for real, you tell yourself.

But this new disaster? This one stares up at you from your desk, from a blood-red pen and cheap printer ink like it wants to eat you alive.

F.

A big, bold, ugly F stamped on the top of your statistics exam. It practically sneers at you, all caps and no mercy. You stare at it, half in shock, half in rage.

Fuck, fuck math, fuck grades.

“Grades don’t define you,” the posters say. Yeah, tell that to the colleges watching your GPA swan-dive off a cliff.

You fold the paper like it's diseased and shove it in your designer bag like that'll make it go away. The bell rings. Perfect. You shoot out of your seat so fast it squeals, heels clicking, ready to spill this tragic, taboo mess of a moment to your best friend. Maybe you’ll even laugh about it later, like—

“Y/N?”

Oh god. No. Please no.

You freeze.

You know that voice. Sugary-sweet and smug, that’s the voice of a man who knows your secrets before you do.

You turn slowly. Sensei Gojo stands at the front, still obnoxiously pretty and smug with his stupid blindfold pushed up like he’s doing you a favor just looking at you.

“Can you stay for a moment? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Your stomach drops. The class starts filing out. A few turn to look at you. Pity in their eyes. You hate pity. You’d rather they loathe you.

You don’t say anything. You just nod, flip your hair, and sit back down like you own the room. Because you do. Even if you’re on academic death row.

He waits until the last student’s out, then leans back against the desk like he’s the cool substitute in some coming-of-age movie.

“Y/N, your scores in statistics are…” He pauses, searching for a polite way to say atrocious. “Let’s just say they’re not great.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“You’re dangerously close to failing this class.”

You stare at him, mascaraed lashes batting once, twice.

“Like, final warning close. Close to not walking the stage close.” His tone softens, but it doesn't help. It makes it worse. It makes it real.

“And it’s not just the grades. You’re late half the time, and the other half you don’t show up at all.”

Oh, here we go.

You cross your legs. Press your lips together. In your head, you’re screaming.

You think I want to be here?

You want to yell it. But you don't.

Because you don’t explain yourself. Not to teachers. Not to boys. Not to anyone.

So instead, you just smile. That same, sweet, fake smile you’ve weaponized since seventh grade.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is a pattern, Y/N. One you can’t afford anymore.”

He doesn’t say what’s next, not yet.

But something’s coming.

Something you’re definitely not going to like.

And unfortunately for you?

This was just the beginning.

You hated feeling small.

And this? This made you feel so fucking small.

You stared at Gojo, arms crossed over your chest like armor, nails digging into your skin just to keep you grounded. You knew you were failing. You weren’t delusional. But who really cared? It’s not like the world was ending.

Apparently, Gojo did.

“I’ve spoken to your other teachers,” he said, like he was delivering news of a death in the family. “And they told me the same thing. Same pattern. Same concerns.”

Of course they did. Fucking rats.

“So, we’ve agreed. Even talked to Principal Yaga about it.”

You felt it. That tightening in your chest, like the air was suddenly thick and suffocating. Like someone had cracked your ribs open and poured cement inside.

Why not just let me fail? you wanted to scream. It’d be easier. Cleaner. Less humiliating.

But you didn’t even have time to spit that thought out before Gojo said it—

“We’re assigning you a tutor. To help you.”

Boom. Just like that. A landmine in a sentence.

You blinked at him. “Real fucking original,” you muttered, voice flat. “This school, I swear to God.”

Gojo just smiled like your attitude was cute. Like he knew you were seconds away from losing it.

You tried to argue, of course you did. Told him you’d figure it out yourself. That you didn’t need anyone. That you'd pull it together on your own terms.

But it was bullshit and you both knew it.

Because the truth was, you hated needing help. Hated the thought of someone seeing you like that—confused, stuck, stupid.

You weren't supposed to be the girl who got tutored. You were the one who made heads turn in the hallway, not hand in extensions with shaky half-done answers. You were her—the fantasy, the flame, the problem.

Not someone’s fucking charity case.

Gojo kept talking like he didn’t even hear you.

“We already have a student recommended for you. Smart, responsible—top of their class. It’s perfect.”

“No,” you snapped, shaking your head. “Don’t tell me. I swear to God—”

“Megumi Fushiguro,” he said like it was a blessing, not a curse.

You froze.

There it was.

No fucking way.

This wasn’t real. This was a fever dream. A prank. You were going to wake up in your bed with a hangover and a selfie from last night where you still looked hot.

Megumi. Fucking. Fushiguro.

Top of every class. Straight As. Probably dreams in binary and eats plain rice for fun. Always quiet, always grumpy. Wears those dark wire-frame glasses like he’s an anime character no one asked for. Barely talks to anyone unless he’s forced to. Walks around campus like he’s allergic to human interaction.

You were pretty sure he was a virgin.

Okay, no—you were positive he was a virgin.

You’d die before being seen with him. Dead. Bury-you-in-your-Prada dead.

“There has to be someone else,” you said, practically begging now. “Anyone else. Please.”

Gojo looked amused, which made you want to punch a wall.

“There’s Miko,” you offered quickly, almost desperately. “She’s fine. Smart. She’s sweet. I could work with her.”

You could tolerate Miko. Miko was normal. Miko was a girl. Miko wouldn’t make people talk.

But Gojo just tilted his head, smile still in place like he was enjoying every second of your downfall.

“Well Miko only excels in a few subjects and, well... you need a person that excels in all of them,” he said.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you just sat there, stunned, imagining every way this could go wrong.

And knowing deep down?

This was about to be your worst nightmare.

Dressed in black. Wearing glasses. With a stick up his ass. And your GPA in his hands.

Being seen with Megumi Fushiguro was basically social suicide.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic—but not by your standards.

For you, drama was reality. Perception was everything. The throne you sat on in this school wasn’t built on kindness or GPA or showing up to class—it was built on looks, fear, attention, and the ability to control a room with a glance. So yeah, walking around with him?

It’d be like showing up to a party in crocs and a Walmart hoodie.

No one really gave a fuck about Megumi Fushiguro except to mutter, “Oh yeah, he’s the smart one, right?” And then immediately forget he existed. You were 90% sure he didn’t even have friends. Like, actual ones. No rumors, no hookups, no drama. Just… nothing. The guy existed in grayscale while the rest of the world lived in high definition.

Seriously, does he even have a life?

You were still mentally spiraling when you crossed your arms and stared Gojo down. “Well,” you said, voice tight with forced patience, “when are we going to start?”

Gojo blinked, like you just asked what time your public execution was scheduled for.

“Well…” he started, dragging the word out like he didn’t want to say the rest.

Your stomach sank. “Well what?”

He gave you a sheepish smile. “You’re going to have to ask him to tutor you.”

You blinked.

Then blinked again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gojo chuckled under his breath. “I’m not. This has to come from you.”

“No way. No way in hell am I going to let him tutor me, let alone walk up to him and actually ask him. Like some desperate, clueless loser? Are you serious?”

He looked completely unbothered, which only made it worse. “You said you’d do it yourself. So do it.”

You scoffed, stepping back from his desk like it was toxic. “I thought you assigned someone? That’s what you said."

"This isn’t Megumi’s responsibility. He has nothing to do with this.” He simply says before dragging a hand on his face.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, still too calm for your liking. “Y/L/N,” he said, suddenly sounding like an actual teacher, “you’re missing the point. I recommended him for you. There’s nothing on record making him do this. He’s a student. He doesn’t have to help unless he wants to.”

Your jaw clenched.

“So… you’re telling me I have to go up to him. In public. With witnesses. And ask him if he could tutor me?”

“That’s right.”

You swore you saw stars. Like the universe itself was laughing.

“This is a violation of my rights.”

Gojo ignored you. “If you ask me, this’ll help you in a way.”

You turned your full glare on him. “In a way?”

He had the audacity to smile. “In a way.”

That’s it. He was joking. He had to be joking. There was no other explanation.

This was humiliation dressed up as academic concern.

You didn’t care how smart Megumi was. He was a weirdo. An antisocial, overly-serious, no-style, probably-listens-to-podcast-during-lunch type of guy. He barely spoke in class. Walked around like he hated everyone and wanted no part of this high school circus. And now you were supposed to be linked to him?

People would talk. They always did.

And the thing was—you could handle scandal. Cheating rumors, fights, breakups, even getting caught sneaking out of school. That was your brand.

But being pitied? Looked at like you were failing, falling, needing help?

That wasn’t part of the story you’d built.

So you stood there, fuming silently while Gojo tapped his pen and gave you that lazy, I’ve-already-won smirk.

“Your move,” he said.

And for the first time in a long time… you didn’t know what the hell to do.

You hated this.

The sterile smell of books. The too-quiet atmosphere. The pretentious posters about "reading being a journey" plastered on the walls like propaganda. You didn’t even remember the last time you stepped into this godforsaken library. You probably passed it once last semester on your way to the vending machines. That’s how irrelevant it was to your life.

Yet here you were.

In hell. In flats. In daylight.

Nobara walked beside you, phone clutched in one hand, chewing her gum like it was the only thing keeping her alive. You’d already told her everything—the F, the mandatory tutoring, the name.

“Wait, you’re really going up to emo boy?” she asked, eyebrows arched so high they nearly left her face.

You rolled your eyes, hugging your bag tighter against your ribs. “Well, I don’t seem like I have a fucking choice now, do I?”

Nobara laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that said, you poor, pretty, dumb bitch. “I mean… maybe it won’t be that bad.”

You snorted. “Nobara. Be serious.”

She chewed her gum thoughtfully. “Okay. Yeah. No, it’s bad.”

Exactly.

Because Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t just some average dork you could manipulate into writing your assignments. No. He was worse. He was the quiet kind of weird. The doesn’t-talk-in-class, always-has-his-uniform-perfect, looks-like-he-wants-to-die-in-peace kind of weird. The type you couldn’t bribe with a smile or a rumor or a favor. He was immune.

Social leprosy in boy form.

And yet, somehow, the school’s salvation for your stats grade.

You spotted him at the far table, tucked between shelves, back to the wall like some brooding vampire fresh off a CW casting call. His glasses slid low on the bridge of his nose as he scanned whatever thick-ass textbook he was reading for fun.

Of course.

Of fucking course he wore the full uniform like it was sacred. Top button fastened. Tie actually straight. Hair neat, but still messy enough to look like he didn’t try. He looked—

You blinked.

No. No way.

You were not thinking that. You refused to think that.

Sure, he looked… kind of—

“Y/N,” you hissed at yourself in your head. “You stupid bitch. Stop it. Stop right there.”

You’d seen hotter guys take shots off your stomach at parties. You’d dumped guys with jawlines that could slice diamonds. You had absolutely no business finding this antisocial human embodiment of grayscale remotely tolerable-looking.

Still… he had that whole tortured-genius-in-a-dark-academia-novel thing going on. The kind of quiet that made you wonder what his voice sounded like in a whisper. His fingers were long, delicate-looking—but they gripped that pen like he was solving world hunger.

Oh my god. You were going to die in here.

“This is it,” you muttered. “This is where I die. The library. How fucking poetic.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Okay, drama queen. Relax. You’re not marrying him. You’re asking for help.”

You glared. “Which is worse.”

She nudged your shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. Maybe he won’t even say yes. Maybe he’ll look at you, realize who you are, and throw himself out a window.”

That did cheer you up a little.

Still, it wasn’t enough to slow your pulse. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears like war drums. You couldn’t believe this was your life now. That you, Y/N fucking L/N—who had boys wrapped around her finger and girls hating her for sport—was about to walk up to some academically elite, socially invisible nerd and ask him for help like you were starring in some cliché high school drama about “character growth.”

Fuck that.

You straightened your back. Tossed your hair over your shoulder. No more second-guessing. No more bitching. You’d survived worse.

This wasn’t fear. This was pride swallowing itself whole.

“I’ve had enough,” you snapped, mostly to yourself. “No one—no one—intimidates me. Definitely not some little nerd emo boy who hasn’t touched a girl since birth.”

You took one final breath. Braced yourself.

Nobara squeezed your wrist, whispering, “Godspeed, slut.”

You didn’t reply.

You just sighed—loud and dramatic, like the universe owed you for this humiliation—and started walking toward Megumi Fushiguro like the floor wasn’t crumbling beneath you with every step.

You had Nobara stationed like a soldier, standing guard near the library doors, eyes on full fool lookout in case anyone saw you committing social treason.

God bless this woman.

Thank you for this, friend. Lord.

The library was quiet—too quiet. Every step felt like it echoed, like the universe wanted to make sure everyone heard you approaching rock bottom.

But before you even made it halfway to his table, Megumi stood up. Closed his book with surgical precision and walked straight into the shelves, disappearing like some silent cryptid in the woods.

You groaned, turning to Nobara, giving her a this bitch is running away from me? look.

She grinned, raised both brows, and mouthed: Do it, pussy.

You wanted to strangle her and kiss her at the same time.

Whatever. You’d gotten with hotter guys. Smarter ones. Dumber ones. Richer. Poorer. Emotionally unavailable. Emotionally obsessed. Guys with girlfriends. Guys who thought they had a chance.

And every single one of them turned to putty in your hands.

So what made him different?

You squared your shoulders, spun around, and stormed into the stacks.

There he was. Back turned, arm reaching up to slide a book back into place like he lived here. Like he belonged among dusty spines and math equations.

You grabbed the nearest book—didn’t even look at the title—and fake-coughed as you stepped closer.

Megumi turned.

Surprised, yes. But not flustered.

His stare was cold. Flat. That same fucking look he always had—like the world bored him, and you were just another mild inconvenience.

God, what a jerk.

“Um,” you started, lifting the book like it wasn’t upside down. “Can you help me with this?”

You could feel Nobara mentally cheering you on from the sidelines. Get him, Y/N.

Megumi looked at the cover. Then at you. Then back to the book.

He blinked once.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

You blinked back, momentarily stunned.

Was he being smart with you?

No one was ever smart with you. Not unless they wanted something. Not unless they were flirting. Not unless they were desperate for attention.

But Megumi just looked… unimpressed.

You felt your pride snap a little.

You sighed and shoved the book back somewhere—probably in the wrong section. Probably next to something tragic and depressing.

“Look,” you muttered, arms crossed tight over your chest. “I need your help.”

Even saying that word felt like sandpaper in your throat.

Help. Ugh.

Megumi didn’t react. Just stood there. Silent.

“I’m failing,” you continued. “Not just in one class. In like… a lot. And Gojo-sensei—” you swallowed the irritation in your tone “—he recommended you to tutor me.”

His gaze didn’t waver. Not even a flicker of amusement or interest.

Just cold. Calm. Bored.

He stared at you for a full second before delivering it:

“No.”

Plain. Simple. Sharp.

Like a guillotine to your ego.

You blinked.

“What?”

“No.”

You stared at him, jaw slightly slack.

“No?” you repeated, as if your ears had betrayed you.

“Yeah,” he said, already turning back to shelve another book. “No.”

You stood there, floored. Like you’d just been slapped with a hardcover.

The absolute audacity. You were you. You didn’t get told no. but apparently, Megumi Fushiguro didn’t give a single fuck.

There were moments—very rare moments—when someone told you no.

Like, a real, firm, cold-blooded no. No explanation. No softened tone. No excuses or maybes or little breadcrumbs to give you hope.

Just: No.

And for a second, you couldn’t even move. Couldn’t even process it.

You’d had teachers fold when you cried. Boys stutter when you glared. You could fake a smile, flutter your lashes, and make people bend. That was the point. That was you.

So who the fuck did Megumi Fushiguro think he was?

You stormed out from between the shelves, steps sharp and fast like your heels were carving a path straight through the earth. You spotted Nobara instantly—arms crossed, eyes wide, already sensing the smoke behind your eyes.

“How’d it go?” she asked, leaning off the wall.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

She took one look at your face and winced. “So I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

You stopped beside her, practically shaking. “He said no. Like—just no. No reason. No ‘sorry.’ No nothing. Just—” you mimicked his monotone—“no.”

Nobara blinked. “Wow. That’s kind of iconic.”

You glared at her.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, holding up her hands. “I’m sorry. That’s messed up. But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise? Like… maybe you weren’t meant to suffer like this. I mean, Miko is still up for it. She said she’d be down to help.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw god. “Miko’s off the table.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow. “Why? She’s tolerable.”

“Sure, tolerable. But she’s not smart-smart. Like, she can help me with basic history or whatever, but I’m not failing basic history, Nobara. I’m failing everything that sounds like a war crime. Calculus? Bio? Stats? Physics? I might as well be trying to read fucking ancient Sumerian.”

Nobara winced. “That’s… yeah, that’s real.”

You ran your hands down your face, groaning. “I should’ve said please or something. Or flirted. Or lied. I don’t know—threatened to cry.”

She smirked. “You? Say please? That would’ve been a show.”

You ignored her. “How the hell am I supposed to go back and tell Gojo? He already thinks I’m a mess.”

“Maybe he’ll finally cut you some slack.”

You scoffed. “Oh no. Knowing Gojo? He’ll double down. Say it’s ‘a challenge for my personal growth’ or some other inspirational TED Talk shit.”

You leaned back against the wall, tilting your head up like the ceiling would give you answers.

You were running out of options. Miko wasn’t cutting it. Fushiguro was being a little emo wall of nope. And Gojo was going to be so smug when he found out you failed asking for help too.

Creative. You had to get creative.

Begging was off the table.

Manipulating was… iffy. He didn’t seem the type to care if you blinked slow or whispered his name.

Bribing?

No. He’d probably think you were trying to poison him.

What the fuck kind of guy says no to Y/N L/N without blinking?

You stared at the library door like it had betrayed you personally.

You’d have to tell Gojo. Eventually.

Maybe if you just… delayed it long enough. Came up with a new plan. Or wore sunglasses and faked a sore throat for a week. Or transferred to another school. Another continent.

You sighed again, dramatic as hell, flipping your hair back like it would physically toss the stress off your body.

Nobara patted your arm. “Want to go get iced coffee and pretend this never happened?”

“I want to go back in time and kill whoever invented the grading system.”

She grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

The next day at school was torture.

You still hadn’t told Gojo about the whole Megumi situation—refused to, actually. There was no point. Not yet. Not when there was still a sliver of a chance to salvage this your way.

There was always a way.

Men were predictable. The trick was knowing which button to press. Some needed a little pity. Others needed attention. Flattery. A brush of your fingers. A well-placed laugh. You’d played this game before—and won.

Megumi Fushiguro wouldn’t be any different. He couldn’t be.

You just… needed a new approach.

Maybe you hadn’t smiled enough. Maybe your tone was too sharp. Maybe you needed to soften the edges, play the part you always avoided—sweet, helpless, tragic little thing with wide eyes and nowhere else to turn.

It made your skin crawl just thinking about it, but you’d do it. For the grade. For your ego. For the fantasy of walking the stage with your head held high while every girl who talked shit about you had to watch.

But still…

Why did he say no?

Why would he of all people—grumpy, quiet, socially-inept Megumi Fushiguro—reject you like that? It wasn’t even a thoughtful rejection. No hesitance. No pause.

Just: no.

A voice crept up your spine like rot, soft and cruel:

Because you’re a horrible person.

You slammed your locker shut, hard enough that it echoed through the hall and turned a few heads.

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered, to yourself, to your thoughts, to everything.

And then you saw him.

Megumi. Walking down the hallway. Book in hand. Head down. Shoulders slouched. Hair slightly messy, like he didn’t even care how he looked, and somehow that just made him more annoyingly intriguing.

You inhaled. One more time. That’s all you needed. A second chance. A different angle. You could do this.

You adjusted your skirt. Checked your reflection in the locker mirror. This time, you’d go softer. Smarter. Better.

But before you could even make it two steps, someone stepped into your path like a fucking disease.

“Aiko,” you spat before she could even open her mouth.

Certified bitch. Musty-ass personality. Face like it belonged in a “before” photo.

She wore a fake-ass smile, one that curled like spoiled milk. “I heard you and Kamo broke up,” she said sweetly, her voice dipped in syrup and cyanide. “Ugh, I feel so sorry for you.”

There it was.

His name. Again.

You’d been doing fine—perfectly fine—without hearing it.

Kamo this. Kamo that. The school’s “it couple.” That stupid title people loved to throw around like you were a soap opera they subscribed to.

You let yourself fall apart in front of him. But you’d never, ever let yourself break in front of them.

“You’re in my way,” you said through clenched teeth.

Aiko blinked like she was shocked. Like she hadn’t come over here specifically to dig a knife into your ribs.

“Oh, am I?” she cooed. “Relax, Y/N. I’m not trying to fight. Just… you know. Grieving. For the tragedy of it all. I mean, the it couple breaking up? So sudden.”

You stepped closer, eyes burning into hers.

“I said,” you hissed, “you’re in my fucking way, cunt.”

The smile slid off her face like smeared lipstick.

She didn’t say another word.

Didn’t even try to bite back.

She just moved.

And you walked past her like she was dust on your heels.

Oh, you fucking hated her face so much.

If you weren’t so focused on Megumi’s fading figure at the end of the hall, you would’ve turned back and said more. Burned her down like you used to. But not today. You had other things to ruin, and Megumi Fushiguro? He was next.

The thing about corner-turning is you never expect the universe to kick you in the face right when you're adjusting your bag strap.

You were walking with purpose, the kind that made your heels click a little louder than usual—an entrance in motion. You were ready. Composed. Lip gloss freshly reapplied after third period. Your expression was neutral but just sharp enough to slice. You had a mission, and it had a name: Megumi Fushiguro.

But then you heard it.

Soft voices. Quiet. Way too quiet.

You stopped cold just before turning the hallway corner, your body going still like a predator scenting something interesting in the air. Not danger. Something better.

Opportunity.

You leaned slightly against the wall, the cool concrete pressing against your arm, heart slowing to a patient rhythm.

“…This isn’t what you think it is, is it?”

The voice was unmistakable. Low. Soft-spoken. Familiar. Mgumi, and not the annoyed, gruff, “please leave me alone” tone he used with you.

This voice was nervous. Hopeful.

You blinked, stunned for a moment. He was talking to someone—someone else. That alone was rare. You’d never seen him willingly seek out a conversation that didn’t involve quadratic equations or existential dread.

“So, um…” A pause. Oh my God he’s going to do it. Your pulse quickened, like you were watching a drama unfold on live TV.

“…Will you go out with me?” Holy shit.

Your mouth fell open slightly. Megumi Fushiguro was asking someone out.

Of all the unexpected plot twists. You weren’t sure what floored you more—the fact that he had feelings, or the fact that he was actually brave enough to express them. The guy walked around like he hated everyone except maybe cats and his own thoughts.

But there he was. Vulnerable. Soft-spoken. Kinda pitiful.

You peeked carefully—so carefully—around the corner. Your eyes landed on her. Miwa Kasumi. Of course. Sweet, inoffensive Miwa. Soft voice. Polite tone. Never stepped on toes, never raised her voice, never walked down a hallway like she owned it.

The complete opposite of you. She even looked gentle when she rejected him.

“That’s really sweet, Megumi,” she said, and you swore she said it like she was afraid of breaking him. “But I don’t think we’re compatible.” Oof. That hurt, and it wasn’t even aimed at you.

“It’s not a secret that you’re… well… new and inexperienced to this kind of stuff,” she added. “And I like someone—” But he cut her off.

“Yeah, I get it.” His voice was flat again. Hollow. There it was. The door closing. No theatrics. No drama.

“Maybe soon, though?” he offered, like it was a question, like he still had a little hope curled in his chest, waiting to be crushed.

“Um… okay.” And that was the end, silence.

You stayed frozen in place, your breath held like the scene might collapse if you moved too fast. Megumi turned, and for a second he looked younger, like he’d peeled off a layer of himself and left it on the floor between them.

And then he walked away. Alonem, you blinked slowly, brain sparking. It started as a single thought, a flicker, a whisper.

Oh, weren’t you just the smartest fucking person in the building?

"You really think this is going to work?"

Nobara’s voice broke through the trance of your reflection, half-mirrored in the hallway’s cracked window, your lip gloss catching the light like a tactical weapon.

You gave her a sideways glance, one perfectly sculpted brow raised, all smug and smugger. “Of course it’s going to work,” you said, like it was the dumbest question you’d ever been asked in your entire perfect life. “Please. It’s me.”

You had already told her everything—the plan, the hallway rejection you’d witnessed, the way Megumi looked like a kicked puppy when Miwa gave him the sweet-girl brush off—and now it was game time. You were the puppeteer, baby, and the stage was set. He just didn’t know he was dangling from your strings yet.

Honestly, you had no idea what people meant when they said "knowledge is power" unless they were talking about you. Because you? You were a damn encyclopedia of everything boys wanted, and everything girls wished they could do. You knew every damn nerve ending worth teasing, every expression worth mimicking, every little “accidental” touch that turned even the coldest guy into a stuttering, red-eared wreck. You knew how to arch your back just enough without looking desperate. You knew how to keep your voice low, not sultry but curious, like they were a mystery you were so bored of but still entertained for sport.

You weren’t some hopeless virgin clinging to a copy of Cosmo in your locker. No. You had done your time. You had experience. You’d had boys beg for a kiss. Had them swear they’d never look at another girl again. You could describe, in horrifyingly accurate detail, what made every one of your past flings tick—and more importantly, what made them snap. You’d seen stars on the ceiling of cars, been pinned against too many lockers to count, had your name moaned into sweaty pillows and shower tiles.

So, yes. You were qualified.

You? You were the reason boys wrote sad songs and cried into hoodies they never washed again. You were a walking masterclass in confidence, sin, and silk, and if Megumi Fushiguro needed a little help navigating the mess that was dating and desire and rejection?

Well, you were feeling generous. Nobara, for her part, wasn’t fully sold. But she didn’t argue. She just sighed, then elbowed you, subtly nodding toward the other end of the hall. “Look. There he goes. Mr. Emo himself.”

You turned, the ends of your perfectly curled hair whipping across your shoulder as your eyes locked onto him. There he was.

Same as yesterday. Same slouched posture. Same dark hair falling over the rims of his glasses like he was the protagonist of a sad indie movie no one finished watching.His uniform was annoyingly neat. His expression was unreadable, but not in a mysterious way—more in a fuck-off-and-die kind of way. Still, it didn’t scare you. That bored, dead-eyed glare didn’t do a thing to your confidence.

You turned back to Nobara and handed her your iced coffee like a sword. “Cover for me.”

Before she could even roll her eyes, you were already following him. Gracefully. Casually. Like it was just a coincidence that your heels clicked down the hall in rhythm with his steps.

He stopped at his locker, fiddling with the lock, clearly unaware of the incoming storm.

You leaned on the locker next to his, one shoulder against the cool metal, your voice coated in the sweetest tone you could muster.

“Hey.”

He turned his head slightly.

The look he gave you was the same exact one he wore that day in the library.

Cold. Blank. So utterly unimpressed you could practically hear him sigh internally.

“Which part of no didn’t you understand?”

You blinked. Your smile didn’t even falter. Internally, you did want to punt him across the hallway, but you held it together.

You scoffed, caught off guard for a second before giving yourself a mental slap across the face. Act nice, you reminded yourself. Be fucking likable for once.

“So,” you started, crossing one leg over the other casually, “Gumi’s got a little crush, huh?”

That got his attention.

He turned to face you fully, the minimal expression on his face twisting—just slightly—into something more shocked. Or was it offended?

He stared at you like he couldn’t decide what repulsed him more: the nickname or the fact you knew.

“I told Miwa not to tell anyone.”

You gave a dramatic little shrug, lips pursed, eyelashes fluttering like you were born to cause heart attacks. “Well, it’s me. I know everything.”

And then, you smiled.

Slow and cunning and full of teeth.

You let out a low whistle, like you were impressed. “Inexperienced, huh? That’s what she said?”

You tilted your head, trailing a manicured nail along the edge of the locker next to you. “See, that’s where I come in.”

He looked like he wanted to walk into traffic.

You stepped closer.

“I’m offering a little deal,” you said, voice sweet as sin. “You tutor me in, you know, math and stats and all that shit I don’t care about—” you waved a hand like the words physically bored you, “—and I tutor you in…” your lips curled again, “...sex.”

There was a beat. A long, awkward, horrifying beat.

And then his expression shifted.

Not to shock. Not to curiosity.

To absolute, undisguised disgust.

“That’s disgusting.”

Your eyes snapped open wider. “Excuse me?”

He was already pulling books out of his locker like he couldn’t be bothered to finish this interaction with eye contact.

“You should be veryyy appreciative I even offered,” you huffed. “This is an opportunity of a lifetime, you know. So many people would kill for—”

He shut his locker.

“—what I just gave you.”

He turned to you, expression still deadpan but lined with something sharper now. You didn’t know what it was at first, until he opened his mouth.

“What you are,” he said calmly, “is someone who is so full of herself it’s amazing you haven’t choked on your own ego.”

Your mouth parted. Stung, just slightly.

He leaned in just enough for you to catch the low drop of his voice.

“I said it before. And I’ll say it again—”

He stepped back.

“No.”

And just like that, he walked away, you stood there for a second. Stunned. Speechless. Flabbergasted, like a slap you hadn’t expected. Like someone had the audacity to be immune to your charm.

You blinked, and then you inhaled deeply.

You're fucked.

“He fucking rejected me, Nobara.”

You stood in the middle of the girls’ restroom, hands braced on the sink counter like the porcelain could steady your fucking soul, head low, eyes wide like you were still trying to process the words coming out of your own mouth.

“Me. Rejected.”

It physically hurt to say that. Like it scorched your throat. Like it gave you indigestion. Like you were going to throw up and sob and file a complaint to God all in one breath.

You groaned, dragging your perfectly manicured hands down your face, smudging your highlighter in the process. “Oh my fucking god, I can’t—what the actual fuck did I do to deserve this?”

Nobara, loyal to the bitter end, was already next to you, arms crossed, scowling on your behalf like a good friend should.

“He’s a little shit, okay?” she snapped. “He’s a little emotionally constipated virgin who wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped him across the face with thigh-highs and a personality.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” you practically shouted, flailing your arms. “Like, are we even sure he jerks off? Like I’m ninety-nine percent sure he does it sad and slow with one hand and zero imagination while staring at the ceiling like he’s mourning his life choices.”

Nobara cracked a smile.

“No, seriously, that boy probably comes with his fucking soul still intact. I bet he cries afterward.”

You paced, running your hands through your hair, completely distraught. “I just—I don’t understand. What the fuck did I do wrong? Was it the way I said it? Was I too aggressive? Too hot? Oh my god, was it my face? Is it my face, Nobara?”

She blinked, half-concerned. “What? No.”

“Oh my god I had something in my teeth, didn’t I?” you said, voice climbing in panic. “I had something in my fucking teeth and now Megumi Fushiguro thinks I’m a feral beast who doesn’t know how to use dental floss. This is a fucking nightmare.”

“Okay, chill—”

“No, I won’t chill!” you snapped, turning to face the mirror again, leaning in close to inspect your smile like you were about to cry over a popcorn kernel from lunch. “Do you know what this means?!”

Nobara exhaled. “That he’s an idiot?”

“That he’s a fucking idiot! A disrespectful, emotionally stunted, sexually repressed little emo bitch-boy who probably gets hard from calculus and the idea of stability! I’m sorry, but—no one says no to me. No one. Not the captain of the basketball team, not my ex who literally tattooed my initials on his ribs, not even that teacher who pretended to not notice when I flirted for extra credit. But Megumi Fushiguro?”

You threw your hands up. “This is psychological warfare.”

You slumped down onto the bathroom bench like the life had been drained from your body, one leg kicked over the other in pure tragic defeat. You were exhausted. Emotionally. Mentally. Hornily.

“This cannot be fucking happening. I’m hot. I’m smart-ish. I’m the reason half the student body needs therapy. Like what the actual fuck is this timeline?!”

Nobara sat next to you, patting your thigh like she was dealing with someone in mourning. “He probably just—like—panicked. Or has a weird purity complex. Or maybe he just wants to be a fucking sad monk. I don’t know. Point is, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did I smell weird?” you asked suddenly. “Did I wear too much perfume? I knew I shouldn’t have layered Vanilla 28 with that fucking cherry one, I smell like a dessert menu.”

“You smell fine,” she said.

“I should’ve worn the other top,” you muttered, flopping your head back dramatically. “The one with the little lace thing on the chest. That one says ‘I read books and have daddy issues’ in a cute way. This one just says ‘please rail me and leave.’”

“I mean… is that not the vibe you were going for?”

“Not when I’m trying to manipulate him nicely!”

Silence settled for a moment, filled only by the distant echo of a bell ringing somewhere down the hallway. You stared at the ceiling, wondering how the hell you got here. How the fuck Megumi Fushiguro, of all people, had the iron balls to shut you down twice with the emotional grace of a cactus.

You had people on waiting lists to get with you. DMs that required sifting through like spam mail. You didn’t chase. You didn’t ask. And you sure as hell didn’t beg.

But you’d offered, and he’d looked at you like you were the one who should be ashamed.

You groaned again, louder this time, burying your face into your hands. “He’s going to haunt me. I’m going to see his stupid grumpy face every time I close my eyes.”

Nobara was trying not to laugh. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

You knew what Miko was?

An absolute fucking shitty tutor.

Like, garbage-tier. Like should be arrested for educational malpractice level.

You weren’t even being dramatic—okay, maybe a little—but fuck, this was pain.

No one told you she was a mouth-breather, and now you couldn’t unhear it. Every inhale was like someone trying to suck soup through a straw. She sounded like a fish gasping for air. Like a dying background character in an anime. And she had the nerve to be confused when you glared at her every five seconds.

You’d been at it for over an hour. One full fucking hour. In Gojo’s empty classroom, no one else around, just the two of you and a whiteboard full of useless numbers that looked more like cursed marks than actual math.

And nothing. No fucking information had entered your brain.

None.

Nada.

Zilch.

“This is sooo not fucking working,” you groaned, throwing your pen across the desk like it had personally offended you. It bounced off your notebook and hit the floor with a pathetic little click. “I swear to God I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Miko flinched a little, fingers fiddling with the edges of her worksheet like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak.

“Did I… um… did I do something wrong?” she asked softly.

You stared at her for a full three seconds.

Then sighed.

“No,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Just stop breathing out of your fucking mouth. It’s bothering me.”

“Oh,” she squeaked. “Sorry…”

You leaned back in your chair, legs spread slightly like a guy in a rap video, looking utterly defeated. Your pencil was somewhere on the floor. Your motivation had died about thirty minutes ago. You didn’t even care anymore.

This was going nowhere.

You weren’t learning shit. You still couldn’t tell the difference between slope and circumference or whatever the hell this was. Miko was nice and sweet and fucking useless. She didn’t challenge you, didn’t pressure you, didn’t even talk like a real person. Just kept pointing to the same equation like repetition was going to beat intelligence into your skull.

You needed something. Something real. Something to snap you out of this shitty mood. A release. A reset. A fucking cigarette or a decent distraction or a goddamn lobotomy at this point.

So you did the thing that always gave you a temporary hit of serotonin and brain rot.

You pulled out your phone.

Flipped open Instagram like it owed you rent.

And there he was.

Fucking Kamo.

Kamo Noritoshi. Tall. Clean. Smart. Moody in the right ways. Your ex, your enemy, your favorite mistake all rolled into one tight package with a stick up its ass. You hadn’t seen him in the halls lately—thank god—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking. Of course he was. He always was.

Your thumb hovered over his story, hesitation curling in your gut like smoke. You tapped it anyway.

The first frame? A photo of some overpriced matcha drink and a quote that probably wasn’t deep but sounded smart if you didn’t think too hard. Typical. The second? His face. His fucking face. Jaw clenched, hair perfect, dead-eyed stare into the camera like he invented the concept of being mysterious.

You exhaled through your nose, annoyed by how fast your stomach flipped.

You missed the bastard. Just a little. Not like—you know—romantically. But there was a rhythm with him. A pull. You two were always circling each other. Orbiting. Drunk texts. Fights in parking lots. Apologies in back seats. It was fucked up, but at least it was something.

You always came back to each other.

Always.

“Y/N?”

You looked up.

Miko, right, still here.

“Are you listening?”

You blinked. “No. And I think we’re fucking done here.”

You stood, grabbed your bag, and started shoving your stuff inside with the same energy people use when flipping off the universe.

“Wait—but we didn’t go over the last—”

“Nope,” you snapped. “Not doing this anymore. I can’t. I’m gonna bash my fucking skull into a wall if I sit here and listen to you explain the fucking Pythagorean theorem one more time like it’s gonna click.”

Miko shrank back slightly, eyes wide. “I was just trying—”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re not helping. You’re not even… like… contributing. I don’t need someone to read to me, I need someone to make it make sense. And I sure as shit don’t need a human humidifier huffing beside me while I have a breakdown.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, face stone cold.

“This was a waste of my fucking time.”

You didn’t look back as you walked out, heels loud, spine straight, fingers clenched around your phone.

It wasn’t just the tutoring that sucked.

It was everything.

Megumi. Your grades. Your goddamn pride. All of it turning into this sticky, suffocating mess around you. And you were so fucking tired of trying to fix it the nice way.

You needed a win.

And someone was going to give it to you.

Even if you had to rip it out of their pretty little hands.

“I am so not getting into college.”

The words left your mouth like venom, dripping with caffeine and despair as you slouched deeper into the patio chair, legs crossed dramatically like you were mourning the death of your academic future. The sun was too bright. Your coffee tasted like anxiety. The fake succulents on the café table were judging you. Everything was awful.

“Miko is basically a finished fucking case,” you added, scoffing. “Like, finished. Done. Burnt. Expired. That bitch is a walking expired carton of soy milk.”

Nobara slurped loudly on her overpriced iced coffee beside you, clearly unfazed by your suffering. “It can’t be that bad.”

You turned to her, full body, like you needed to make direct eye contact so she could feel the full depth of your academic anguish.

“No, Nobara. That’s the point. It is that bad. Because—she breathes through her mouth.”

Nobara winced. “Damn. Not the mouth breathing…”

“She pants, Nobara,” you whispered, scandalized. “Like a goddamn pug in the summertime. I’m trying to memorize formulas and she’s over there sounding like she’s running a marathon in her fucking head.”

She tried not to laugh, failing spectacularly.

You rolled your eyes, leaned back, and stared at the sky like it held answers. “I’m doomed. I’m gonna be twenty-two working at some shitty chain café pretending it’s temporary while crying in the walk-in freezer. This is it. This is where my villain origin story begins.”

“Okay, admit it,” Nobara said, nudging you. “You need Megumi.”

You sat up straight so fast you nearly spilled your drink.

“No, I fucking do not.”

“You totally do.”

“I do not need that emotionally vacant little broomstick of a man!” you hissed. “He’s a boring-ass bitch with no serotonin, no social skills, and no dick game. Megumi Fushiguro is the human equivalent of a wet Wednesday. I’m not handing over my academic life to him.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh.”

You glared at her like your eyes could kill. “Why can’t you tutor me, huh?”

Nobara snorted into her straw, choking slightly. “Girl. Let’s be fucking real. We wouldn’t learn shit with me tutoring you. Not a single thing. You’d start flirting with me out of boredom, I’d tell you to fuck off, and we’d end up on TikTok filming a thirst trap instead of learning calculus.”

You groaned again, flopping over the table dramatically, cheek pressed against the wood like you were seconds from sobbing.

“I hate this,” you mumbled. “I hate all of this. Whatever.”

Nobara took another sip before casually dropping the question like it was nothing: “So… how’s everything with Kamo?”

Your ears twitched.

You sat up a little too fast, adjusting your sunglasses like a defense mechanism.

“Great,” you said, voice a little too chipper. “Fucking fantastic. Let’s just forget about him.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

You waved your hand like you were swatting away the ghost of your past. “It’s whatever. He’s probably somewhere grooming his eyebrows and pretending he’s deep.”

She smirked. “You still miss him, huh?”

You scoffed. “No. But I do need to get laid.”

That made her laugh. “Why not just use your fingers?”

You made a face like she’d suggested licking a subway pole. “That never works for me.”

“Feels fine to me,” she shrugged, all smug and unbothered, like she had her shit together.

You stared at her in disbelief. “Ugh. I hate it, Nobara. I really fucking do. I wanna die. I wanna die a slow and painful death under a pile of unsatisfying orgasms and student loan rejection letters.”

She laughed so hard she nearly spit her drink. “Jesus. It’s just—babe, you’ve never had good dick before.”

You gasped, offended on principle. “Excuse me! I’ve had plenty of—”

“No, you’ve had plenty of dick, not good ones.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then slowly closed it.

“Yeah, okay. Fair.”

She grinned. “Loosen up. You’ll get back up. Maybe Miko won’t be so bad after all.”

You gave her a look like she’d just said you should start dating your cousin.

“Miko? Babe. I would rather rawdog my way through the SATs blindfolded and high than let that girl breathe on me for another hour.”

“Dramatic,” she said.

“Realistic,” you corrected.

But even you knew you were running out of options.

And unfortunately?

That annoying, grumpy little weirdo with glasses might just be your only real shot at saving your GPA from rotting in hell.

Fuck.

This wasn’t getting any fucking better.

You were on the verge of a breakdown. Again. There was no plan, no spark of genius, no magical solution waiting in your locker like a fucking lifeline. Just you, stuck with Miko and her dumbass worksheets, wasting precious hours of your life learning absolutely fucking nothing. It was like trying to study with a talking rice cracker—bland, breakable, and boring.

You slammed your locker shut with a groan, fixing your hair out of pure muscle memory, fingers combing through strands like a ritual. At this point, you were doing anything to feel in control—of yourself, your grades, your life.

And then you heard it.

Voices. Loud. Male. Laughing.

The kind of laughter that never meant anything good.

You turned your head lazily, fully expecting to see the usual suspects being the dumb little testosterone goblins they always were—but something about the tone, the taunting edge in their voices, pulled your attention in completely.

Three guys.

One target.

And that target?

Megumi Fushiguro.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You didn’t intervene. Just stayed leaned up against the lockers, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold like it was a play written for your amusement.

Megumi stood there, same blank expression, glasses off, arms still at his sides like he’d decided resisting was a waste of effort. His hair was slightly messier than usual, and there was a scuff on his uniform jacket. But otherwise? Stone cold.

“You serious, bro?” one of the jackasses laughed. “You actually did it? Like, for real? You asked Miwa out?”

Megumi didn’t reply.

“Oh, nah,” the other one grinned. “It’s true. Miwa told Yuko, who told Keita, who told me. She said it was—wait—what’d she call it again?”

The third guy chimed in with a fake high-pitched voice. “‘Kinda sweet but really sad.’”

“Sad, bro!” the first guy repeated, cracking up. “She said it like he was a puppy getting put down or something.”

The second leaned in, barely holding back laughter. “So you went up to her, all serious like, and just—what? Laid it all out? ‘Hi, I like you, please validate my existence?’”

They howled with laughter, slapping each other like it was the funniest shit they’d ever heard.

And Megumi?

Nothing.

Just standing there. Staring ahead. Eyes cold. Distant. Detached.

“Bro, I bet he’s never even kissed a girl,” one of them muttered under his breath.

“Or touched a tit.”

“Dude probably gets hard from holding hands.”

“And you just knew Miwa wasn’t into you, right? Like, c’mon—look at you, man. You read voluntarily. You sit in the front. You don’t even talk. You’re like the human version of a fucking traffic cone. Just there.”

More laughter.

And still, Megumi didn’t flinch.

Didn’t bite.

Didn’t move.

It was... eerie. Uncomfortable, even.

You didn’t know why you stayed there, watching. You weren’t even defending him in your head—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You were just observing. That was all.

But your jaw clenched.

Not because you liked him. Not because you cared. God, no.

It was just—there was something infuriating about it. The way they said it. The way they laughed. The way they tossed around the word virgin like it was a fucking insult, like being someone who hadn’t fumbled their way through mediocre high school sex made you worthless.

Like they were better than him.

Like they knew him.

You didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but your nails dug into your palm as they walked off with one final hit.

“Better luck next time, Fushiguro. Maybe try a mirror first, get some practice in.”

And then they were gone. The sea of students swallowed them up. Their voices faded into the noise. The hallway shifted back into its usual blur, and suddenly it was just Megumi again—alone, hunched slightly as he bent down to pick up his glasses, quiet as ever.

You glanced around.

No one else had seen it.

No one else cared.

And maybe you didn’t either.

But something in you twitched. Shifted. Buzzed, like a static charge in your chest that refused to settle.

Your feet moved before your mouth did.

Megumi was quiet, still brushing dust off his pants like the last five minutes hadn’t just been a public fucking execution.

You leaned your shoulder against the lockers, casual, like you weren’t completely invested in the conversation you were about to initiate.

“So that’s just it, huh?” you said, tone light. “You let them chew you up and spit you out like that?”

He didn’t look up. “It’s not worth the energy.”

“No, it’s just pathetic,” you replied bluntly, crossing your arms. “There’s a difference.”

That got his attention. Slowly, his gaze slid over to you, cold and flat and unimpressed like always. He looked you dead in the eye — dead — like he was trying to freeze you with the sheer weight of his judgment.

“Why are you even here?”

You let out a dramatic sigh, like he was exhausting and cute for not realizing it. “Look, what they did was uncalled for. Stupid fucking pussies, you know?”

He shrugged. Shrugged. Like those guys hadn’t just called him virgin boy to his face in front of half the school.

“They’re kind of right in a sense,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“They’re right. I am a loser.” You kind of are, you thought. But inside voices, babe. You weren’t a monster.

You just blinked, shifted your weight, and said, “No. I just think you’re different.”

That made him laugh. Like actually laugh. A scoff-laugh hybrid with a healthy dose of bitterness.

“Yeah. Perfect little popular girl saying that to me, huh?”

You tilted your head, lips quirking. “I’m serious.”

There was a pause. You could feel the weight of it settle between you. And then, like you were unlocking some deep lore plotline, you spoke.

“But there’s one thing they’re right about.”

His brow raised slightly.

“Miwa likes guys with experience. And those boys?” You leaned in, voice dipping lower. “They’d fuck a pillow if it could moan.”

He blinked at you, like he wasn’t sure if you were serious.

“You think what I’m offering benefits only me?” you continued, smile syrupy. “But this could totally be it for you.”

Megumi sighed. The long-suffering kind. “That was a very stupid idea.”

“No it wasn’t.” You straightened. “You like Miwa, right?”

He looked away. Quiet for a second.

“…Since kindergarten.”

Damn. That was… pathetic. But kind of cute? Whatever. You wouldn’t say it.

“You want those jackasses to leave you alone?”

He shrugged again. “I guess.”

“What if you proved them wrong?” you said slowly, voice laced with that venomous charm you’d perfected since birth. “What if you beat them at their own game? Because you fuck so good, you steal their girls?”

He blinked. Twice.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“What if I told you that you can?” you said, all teeth and temptation now. “My offer from last time—I want you to remember it.”

His brows furrowed. “No. Absolutely not.”

You gave him the most dramatic sigh you could conjure without actually collapsing to the floor. “Come on. This is a big benefit for you. I can help you get Miwa. Think about it. Knowing how to fuck so good, Gumi—”

The twitch in his jaw. Oh, it was so satisfying. That damn nickname. He hates it. You’re using it forever now.

“I don’t understand the concept,” he muttered, like it physically hurt to admit.

“GOD,” you muttered, flinging your hands a little. “You tutor me in school. I tutor you in sex.”

“That sounds stupid.”

You stepped closer. Just a little. Just enough to make him uncomfortable.

“You could kiss those idiots goodbye,” you whispered. “And Miwa? She’d come crawling the second she hears how good you are with your hands.”

He looked at you. Seriously looked. Like he was searching for some punchline that didn’t exist.

“If I do this,” he said slowly, “could it really work?”

You smiled. Big. Cocky. Like you had a secret and the entire world was about to burn for it.

“Gumi, do you know who I am?”

There was a pause. He rolled his eyes. But he answered anyway.

“…Of fucking course.”

You held out your hand.

He didn’t shake it.

But he didn’t walk away either.

“Okay then,” you said sweetly, “we have a deal.”

part. chapter 02

[crustyfloor]

Mizi's narration throughout Karma is so packed, I'd like to focus specifically on the part where Mizi is addressing HyunA and revealing her secret about Sua for a moment...

The part of this sequence that gets to me the most is Sua secretly giving Mizi more of her own lines to sing, it's actually so calculated, I want to throw up. Even though they were aiming to get a tie, this re-establishes that Sua knew for certain that wouldn't happen, didn't tell Mizi a thing about it, and made it so that Mizi would definitely get more points for stage presence rather than Sua. Mizi directly admits that she knew what Sua was up to, that she was essentially orchestrating her own death, yet didn't say anything about it, and continued to act as oblivious as Sua thought she was

Mizi's narration in this section reiterates the facade, her guilt, and her distorted image of herself. In The True Face comic, Mizi's own guilt manifested and admonished her for these very actions, for this very willful ignorance that allowed Sua to write her own doom, Mizi convinced herself that she was a selfish person who led all of her friends to their deaths because she didn't care for them enough, and I think this line of thinking in her monologue reflects that. But once again, even though Mizi didn't act, it's not as if she truly didn't care about Sua enough

It's essential to acknowledge that the nature of every character is different and unique to them. Sua didn't value her own life, to her, Mizi was her world, the only reason she could be happy in this world, and she would do anything to keep that safe haven, Sua was willing to give everything, even her life so that she wouldn't have to suffer without Mizi by her side.

She addresses HyunA in this line- "I know my love was different from yours." It's her comparing HyunA's "selfless", self-sacrificial love to Mizi's own perceived selfishness. HyunA is willing to put her life on the line for Luka. HyunA would even persevere for others, but Mizi couldn't do the same. But that doesn't make her love for Sua insincere, that's for certain. Sometimes human love can't be measured by their actions alone; noble love is often romanticized, but humans will be selfish. Mizi wasn't willing to sabotage Sua's plan to avoid her death because -("If you had seen the look on her face too, you wouldn't be able to judge me either") in that scene where Sua saved Mizi from dying, Mizi could understand that if she sacrificed herself in the future, if she did die in that moment, Sua would be devastated living in grief.

The thing is, Mizi wanted to die. But the moment she saw Sua's face break when she caught her before she could fall, her despair at the prospect that she could've lost Mizi just like that, she knew Sua wouldn't be able to bear it. So Mizi couldn't bring herself to do that to her. That much convinced Mizi to not go through with it. And because of this, she turned a blind eye to what Sua was doing behind her back, even if it meant Sua would die. Mizi being willing to do that doesn't mean she didn't love Sua enough, doesn't mean she didn't care. It's so twisted- I think they cared so much for each other in ways that kept themselves at peace that they were blinded by it, they deceive each other into a false sense of security to keep the other close and safe, not wanting to take the risk of upsetting/changing the other in fear of changing the connection between them and ultimately losing each other-- the only comfort and solace they could cling to in that world. It's akin to a selfish sense of self-preservation and care, for Mizi to keep quiet and follow Sua's lead despite what she knows, and how much she truly worries and wanted to do something, just so that Sua wouldn't have to live that visceral fear, maybe on the off-chance that they could both survive round 1 like they dreamed, they could avoid it. Yet that fear of loneliness and pain they shared, that they were trying to escape from in each other, was given back to Mizi after Sua's death, while doing the very thing she wanted to do to keep Sua from suffering

[kerokeeces]

ENHYPEN SFW hyung line fanfic recs!

who am I? im just silent reader who enjoys fics and want to help others find some of my favorites! srry im hee + hoon biased so most are about them

short fic - 1-5k words long fic - 5k+

HYUNG LINE

the look of love by @won4kiss - (how they look at you when they’re blinded by their love) - short fic

low power mode by @sungbeams - (when you get overwhelmed while you're out together) - text msgs

just a bet by @all4yoi - (after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.) - short fic

HEESEUNG

sing me a song by @senascoop - (when you can't fall asleep and heeseung tries to help by singing you a song) - short fic

race to your heart by @coqhee - (lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.) - long fic

uh oh im falling in love by @won4kiss - (you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?) long fic

a stoner's guide to starbucks by @jayflrt - (in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.) - smau series

she knows her sour patch kids by @allforhee - (living under the protective eyes of your older brother, park sunghoon, he thinks he knows you the best. but litte does he know that heeseung knows you love your sour patch kids more than you love his usual swedish fish.) - short fic

win one win me by @jaylver - (who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.) - long fic

from screens to scenes by @enreveriee - (you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists.) - long fic

taste of life by @mygnolia - (heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.) - short fic

bring the heat by @kairoot - (y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.) - short fic

bjoux by @okikeu - (The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.) - smau series

cliches are okay by @chogiwow - short fic

JAY

how you get the girl by @jaylver - (Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.) - long fic

white corvette and lipstick by @okwonyo - (waiting for the cab with your boyfriend in the night.) - short fic

pictures enhypen send you of bf!jay by @ddksoo - fake texts

fast forward by @asahicore - (After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy… and future husband, or so it seems.) - long fic

JAKE

bed chem by @cupidhoons - (your friend sets you up with a cute aussie boy at her party) - short fic

texts with bestfriend!jake by @silquids - text msgs

found you by @whjluv - (jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?) - long fic

SUNGHOON

deep honey by @paarksunghoon - (the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.) - short fic

cafeteria confessions by @reinahwanggg - (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.) - short fic

sunghoon with a crush on you by @woniecore - smau

get well soon by @senascoop - (You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.) - long fic

love on air by @pshbites - (two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.) - smau series

the 24-hour dating challenge by @jaeyunverse - (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.) - long fic

[blank-potato]

I Might As Well Give In

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Witch!Reader

Summary:

“Just… just fuck me already.” Your hands glow with barely contained power, crackling with energy, the heat of it thrumming just beneath your skin. You lock eyes with him, defiance burning through the haze. “Do it,” you snarl. “Or I blast you to another dimension.” His smile is slow, wicked. “Guess I’ll have to fuck that attitude out of you.” You raise a brow, magic coiling tighter in your palms. “You can try.” And The Void was more than up for the challenge. Or After you're told to take a break from missions by the team, you and Bob get even closer. The Void doesn't like that one bit and refuses to let you go.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, smut, fluff, angst, dacryphilia, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, biting, getting together, Bob and Reader being fluffy

WC: 5.5k

A/N: Third and final part of 'I Love The Girl With Magic Ways', other parts linked below. Hope you guys like it!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡

You’d been acting differently since the night you kissed The Void. More… withdrawn than usual. Guarded. You were fighting a battle with the darkness, and it was winning. The whole team noticed your change in attitude and unanimously decided that you needed a little holiday. Which was the nice way of saying you’d been benched.

“Bucky, Yelena, you can’t be serious—”

“Just take the next few missions off,” Bucky said, calm but firm. His arms were crossed, but his eyes were soft with concern. “Just a little time to clear your head."

“I need this,” you said, barely louder than a whisper. It was almost pathetic, the need to prove yourself burned hotter with each passing day. If you could just get out there, do better, and do the right thing, maybe the darkness wouldn’t win. Maybe you wouldn’t let it.

“You need rest. Trust us,” Bucky said again, his tone a mix of concern and quiet command.

Yelena stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We just want to make sure you’re okay,” she said. Her voice was gentler than you expected.

But no matter what they said, the voice inside you twisted their words into something else entirely:

You think I’m a liability. A danger. A ticking time bomb.

And that voice…

Still sounded like The Void.

𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡

It had been a week and a half.

You weren’t on missions. You weren’t training. You weren’t doing anything that made you feel useful.

But at least with the time you had, you spent it with Bob. If you were alone, you knew you’d spiral, there was no doubt about it.

But some days, the guilt and exhaustion are too much to bear. Sometimes, it didn’t let you get out of bed at all.

Not to mention the fact that The Void had been notably absent since the night you kissed.

That should be a good thing.

But you missed him.

You missed his lips on yours, his fingers digging into your hips. He had overtaken you that night. It was more than physical, it was like being accepted by something that understood all the darkest parts of you… and wanted you anyway.

It had been a break from the shame, from the fear, from the endless pressure to be better.

Nothing else felt like that.

Nothing else let you feel like that.

A knock on the door pulls you back. It’s gentle but steady. You know it’s him.

Bob.

He pushes the door open slightly, eyes scanning the dim room until they find you curled up in bed.

It’s a familiar sight. He’d found himself in that exact position more times than he could count. The same gnawing, heavy feeling was eating at him. The kind of pain that doesn’t scream, it just sits on your chest and doesn't let you breathe.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You look over at him, barely turning your head. He stands just inside the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he’s not sure if he should come closer.

“If it isn’t my favourite Bob,” you mumble, your voice sounding quite gritty. There’s a weak attempt at a smile, but it doesn’t fully make it to your eyes.

Your limbs feel like they’re filled with sand. Your eyes burn with the kind of tiredness sleep can’t fix. You’re sure you’ve slept for hours, but still, it never feels like enough.

“Do you know any other Bobs?” he asks with a gentle smile, trying to bring some lightness into the room. “Because if so, I need full names and addresses. Might challenge them to a duel.”

You manage a huff of something like laughter, and your fingers twitch where they lie tangled in the blanket. He always knew how to make you laugh even when you felt like complete shit. 

“Come in or go away,” you say, though your voice lacks any real venom. “Just don’t hover. Makes me feel like part of an exhibition.”

Bob walks in and sits carefully on the edge of the bed.

“I brought food,” he says, holding up a paper bag like it’s some sacred offering.

You glance at it but don’t move. “Not hungry.”

“I know,” he replies quietly. “But you’ll eat anyway.”

“And why’s that?”

You sit up slowly, dragging the blanket with you. Your joints ache, your skin feels too tight, but you manage to turn toward him. Looking over at him, at Bob’s cute, slightly tired face, his warm, worried eyes, and the way he fiddles with the edge of the bag like he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

“Because I’m worried about you… and you don’t want me to worry. You’re selfless like that.”

He’s completely right.

You’d let yourself rot if it meant keeping your mess to yourself. Let the guilt consume you. Let the darkness crawl back in and make a home of your bones. But the thought of that hurting him, of making Bob carry that weight too was unbearable.

Through everything, missions, nightmares, and training sessions, Bob had become a safe space of sorts. Solid. A kind of comfort you didn’t realise you needed until it was just there.

You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie and hold out your hand, with grabby hands, “What did you get me?”

He gives a soft, relieved smile as he passes the bag over. “Burger from that diner you like, fries, and one of those little cookies you pretend not to like but always eat first.”

You snort softly, your lips twitching toward a real smile for the first time in days. “You pay too much attention.”

“I really do,” he says, and for a second, there’s a glint in his eyes that makes your stomach twist.

You look away, focus on unwrapping the sandwich. “Thanks… for staying.”

Bob leans back a little, watching you like it’s the only thing that matters right now.

“Always,” he says quietly.

𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡

The next day, you’re sitting in your room, feeling better than yesterday, but Bob isn’t blind. He sees the shadows behind your eyes, the way you shrink when the silence stretches too long. He knows you’re still being eaten alive inside because you refuse to talk about it.

After pacing the room, glancing at you, and pushing around the subject for a few tense minutes, he finally says it. 

“I know about what happened on the last mission,” Bob says, gently. You stiffen, bracing for the sting of what always comes next, rejection, which, coming from Bob, would hurt especially bad.

But it doesn’t come.

“Just because you hurt someone,” he continues, eyes locked on yours, “doesn’t make you a horrible person.”

You look away, but he follows your gaze, refusing to let you hide.

“The way I see it…” he shrugs a little with a soft smile, “We don’t have to let our mistakes become all that we are.”

Something in you wavers, cracks just enough for light to get through. The way he looks at you, the way he believes in you even when you’re sure he shouldn’t. It’s scary, and yet, it’s the only thing that’s kept you breathing lately.

Maybe… maybe you could be more than just the sum of your worst days.

You clear your throat, sounding barely stronger than a whisper, trying not to let him see just how much this means to you. “That’s some pretty sage advice, Bobert.”

You reach up and ruffle his hair, playful and maybe a little reckless. You expect him to groan and bat your hand away.

“Hey…,” he whines, but there's laughter in it. He catches your wrist lightly, his fingers warm around yours. You try to pull away, but he’s quicker, shifting the momentum until you’re both tangled, limbs entwined, with him landing on top of you.

You blink up at him, surprised but not unhappy.

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, eyes searching yours.

“Hi,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Your fingers reach up, brushing the hair from his eyes, whether it’s you, or some other force taking over, you don’t care. You lean in, pressing your lips to his.

For a moment, Bob doesn’t move, and you wonder if he’s even breathing.

“I’m sorry, that was—” you begin to backtrack, but he silences you with a kiss of his own.

It’s as if every unspoken word, every longing he’s held back, floods into that kiss. He’s hungry, and so are you.

You respond with equal hunger, pulling him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist as you both get lost in the moment.

With every kiss, every breath, you’re pulling each other impossibly close with lips that long to reconnect as soon as they part.

This was it. You’re finally happy. But that doesn’t last long when all of a sudden you feel a dark chill down your spine. When you open your eyes instead of seeing Bob, you’re staring into eyes of gold, belonging to a shadow.

“How sweet,” The Void ridicules. He curls his lip, the sound almost a snarl. “Playing house with him.”

He says it like he just ate something bitter.

“Bring him back,” you gasp.

The room is silent, except for the thundering echo of The Void’s presence.

“Bring. Him. Back.”

The Void tilts his head, expression unreadable. “Why? So he can keep feeding your delusion of redemption? So he can tell you you’re ‘healing,’ while the real you rots under the surface? You don’t want rest. You want release,” he murmurs. “And I can give it to you.”

His fingers graze your jaw, and your body jolts and something inside you just snaps.

You fling him back with a surge of magic. The energy crackles through your body and slams into him like a storm, sending him crashing into the wall. Dust shakes loose from the ceiling, the plaster cracking with the force of it.

A low, cold chuckle escapes his lips as he lifts his head, golden eyes gleaming even as he’s sprawled against the wall. “Mmm,” he hums, “So reactive, I love that about you.”

“Release? Anything you can give me is empty,” you hiss, stepping forward.

He moves to rise from the wall but you’re faster. You shove him back with another flick of your wrist, your magic pinning him to the cracked wall. This time he stays there, your power coiled around his limbs like iron bands.

Your magic still holds him pinned, but The Void looks at you like he’s already won as if your fury is nothing more than another kind of seduction.

“You don’t get to come here all self-important,” you snarl, the words sharp and raw, “like you didn’t just disappear after we kissed. Nightly visits turned to nothing.”

His expression flickers, but then that damned smirk returns, curling at the edges of his mouth.

“Aww, are you mad at me?” he says, all mocking disbelief, gold eyes flickering with amusement. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

The air hums, your control slipping, just a fraction.

That’s all he needs.

The magic falters for half a breath, and he moves. Suddenly he’s off the wall, into your space, pressing in too close. The scent of smoke and something ancient clings to him, intoxicating and wrong in every possible way.

“He’s weak,” The Void murmurs against your ear, “Think about how easy it was…”

His fingers slide along your shoulder, slow and deliberate.

“…to let go. To give in. To let me take control. Can he do that to you?”

You inhale sharply, lungs burning like you’ve just surfaced from deep underwater. Hold your ground, you remind yourself. It had never felt more important than now.

Because being this close to him again was intoxicating yet terrifying.

It was like standing at the edge of a cliff and wanting to jump, just to feel something more than the ache in your chest. You remembered too well how you could fall apart under his touch. How easy it had been to let go and disappear into him like a storm.

But now… now, you had something else.

“He has what you don’t,” you say, steadily, “Hope. And it’s beautiful.”

The words hang in the air like firelight, flickering between you. And for just a second, something shifts in his face, barely perceptible, but real. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. A falter in his stare.

Your memories rise unbidden, mornings with Bob, soft and golden. Laughing over greasy breakfast burritos, sleep in your eyes and sun on your skin. No pressure to be anything more than what you were in that moment.

“Hope? That’s what made you climb into bed with him?” The Void sneers but you don’t back down.

“Yes! And he’s still you. Under all of this anger and sadness, he’s you.”

That stuns him for half a breath but only that. 

“Don’t be naive,” he hisses. “He’s what he’s afraid to be. What he hides. I’m what he really is. The part he won’t show you. I thought you understood that. I thought you understood me.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes now. Not mockery. Not even anger.

Desperation.

“You and I both know,” The Void continues, “that if he saw your sadness, your anger— it’d just remind him of me.”

His voice is venom, the words curling around your ribs like a noose. “You’ll have to hide it. Tuck it down, bury it deep, pretend you’re fine. Smile when it hurts.”

He steps closer again, and you feel it. The part of you that had once reached for him just to feel something again.

But you clench your jaw before opening to tell him that he was wrong when suddenly his hand grabs yours and the world shifts.

Suddenly, you're not in your room. 

You're there again.

The day you never wanted to return to.

Standing over a man, the enemy, but now, reduced to something less. Your magic pulses at your fingertips, wild and red-hot, a raw, animal fury running through you.

Screams echo around you repeating over and over like a warped recording. Like The Void has pulled the memory out of your skull and shoved it in your face on an endless loop.

You look down and see your hands again. The glow, the power. 

The moment you crossed a line. The one you never came back from.

The Void stands beside you now in the memory, like he never left. He leans in close, his whisper slicing through the screams.

“We both know you felt it, didn’t you?” he says. “The rush. The release. That part of you that wanted to do it. He will never understand that, he’d always be worried sick about you.”

Your breath stutters.

Your chest rises and falls too fast. Your mouth is dry, your throat tight. The Void has found it. That small flicker of humanity you’d tried to protect. Your care for Bob. Your fear of losing him. He knew exactly how to twist it. To use it as a leash.

Hoping if he kept prodding, kept whispering those poisoned truths, you’d believe him.

“All you would cause him is suffering,” The Void croons. “He wouldn’t understand what you are. What you’ve done. You’d never be able to be your true self with him.”

You wonder if he’s right.

Bob is good. Whole. Kind in ways you haven’t been in a long time. Maybe ever. He’s trying to control his shadows. And you?

You’ve drowned people in yours.

He pulls you back to reality, his body now pressed against yours.

“But I don’t make you feel guilty. You’d never have to worry about that with me, never have to hold back.”

It wasn’t like he was wrong, and that was the problem. With him, it was too easy to forget the consequences. He lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with a tenderness that almost doesn’t belong to someone like him.

“You’ve known this since the first time we met,” he says, and you know it’s true as soon as it leaves his lips. 

You lean into his touch before you even realise it. Your movements are both hesitant and slow, like you’re caught between desire and self-preservation. The attraction between you is magnetic, pulling you in no matter how many times you’ve tried to resist.

He had put you under his spell yet again, and you let him.

Then suddenly fingers curl around your throat like they belong there, and he pulls you in. Close enough to kiss you, but he wouldn’t yet, preferring to keep you there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his lips. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“What do you think?” you smirk. 

If he wanted your surrender, he’d have to take it.

There’s a flicker in his expression, something between amusement and hunger. He likes the fight. He craves it just like you. 

You both remove your clothes until he’s naked and you’re nothing but panties and your pyjama trousers. 

He pulls off the trousers while you lie there, letting the cold of his hands seep into your skin. But then his eyes catch something.

His fingers trail down your thigh, halting at the faint design inked into your skin. It glows just barely in his presence, like it knows.

He cocks his head, curious about you again. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, brushing a finger over the mark.

“A protection tattoo,” you say, your voice level, though there’s a flicker of hesitation in your chest. You didn’t expect him to notice.

He hums softly, not pulling away. “Would it protect you… from me?”

His tone is teasing, but the edge beneath it is unmistakable. Testing. Dangerous in the way all things with teeth are when they smile too softly.

You meet his gaze, unflinching.

“Would it need to?”

He studies you for a moment, something ancient flickering behind those gold-glow eyes. Then, he shakes his head, “No. I won’t give it a reason.”

Despite your better judgment, despite the way your heart pounds in your chest like a warning drum, you relax into his touch. 

He runs his fingers over the tattoo again, slower this time, like he’s trying to decipher its meaning through touch alone. Like he could undo its magic with nothing but a look.

Then he leans down and kisses it, all tender and soft. 

“H-hey…”

Your breath catches as his lips brush your skin. The skin where he kisses prickles with sensation, something between a warning and a promise. Your body reacts instinctively, back arching just slightly, a tremor of heat skimming down your spine.

He presses kiss after kiss against the tattoo, each one softer than the last. Like a prayer. Like penance. Like devotion or obsession.

The Void, for all his power, kisses you like you're the one that could destroy him. Like your skin is laced with something holy and he’s already damned, but he’ll worship you anyway. 

His lips are at your hipbone now, his hands firm on your thighs as he continues kissing your body. He takes it slow like he’s savouring a final meal.

“I could spend eternity learning you,” he murmurs, “And I’d never tire.”

And you believe him, maybe because his touch is driving you crazy and your mind is somewhere else entirely. 

“Does it burn when I touch you?” he asks against your skin.

You can barely breathe. “No.”

“Then it’s already failed,” he murmurs. “Because it was meant to keep monsters away… wasn’t it?”

“Guess it’s defective.”

You lean up on your elbows, looking down at his mop of hair.  His right hand palms your breast in his hand, the other hand caressing the tattoo, and his mouth kissing your pussy through the fabric of your panties.

“Fuck…,” you gasp, it comes out smooth but needy. The Void hums in contentment against your core, making you whine. 

“Such pretty noises,” he says before going back and laying another kiss there as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

He licks and sucks at your clit through your panties, taking in every moan you had to offer him. His right hand releases yours, sliding down to join the other as it wraps around your thighs. He pulls you closer, to his face, like your pussy was always meant to fit against his lips.

You huff, biting your lip hard to keep the embarrassing sound rising in your throat from escaping. But he notices. Of course, he does.

A crooked smirk plays on his lips as he looks up at you, golden eyes glowing like embers fanned by your resistance.

“This is a good look for you,” he murmurs, his words laced with sin. “Flushed… breathless… trying so hard not to fall apart for me.”

“I’m not… falling apart.”

He chuckles before he leans in again, brushing his lips over your clit again, watching your frazzled reaction like a predator playing with prey it doesn’t quite want to kill.

Looping his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, he pulls them down with excruciating slowness, eyes never leaving yours. When he leans in to press a long and slow lick against your folds. 

It’s instant, that heat coiling tight in your stomach, overwhelming you. Wild eyes meet his, as he starts rubbing your clit in agonisingly slow circles. “Don’t tease me, if you value your life,” you bark at him. 

“How demanding,” he laughs, before going back in. It knocks the air out of you, long strokes of his tongue interlaced with the movement of his fingers, harassing your helpless pussy. You kick your legs, but he keeps them open, every sensation continuing to hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“Just… just fuck me already.”

Your hands glow with barely contained power, crackling with energy, the heat of it thrumming just beneath your skin. You lock eyes with him, defiance burning through the haze.

“Do it,” you snarl. “Or I blast you to another dimension.”

His smile is slow, wicked. “Guess I’ll have to fuck that attitude out of you.”

You raise a brow, magic coiling tighter in your palms.

“You can try.”

And The Void was more than up for the challenge. He grips your hips, and you feel him pressing against your entrance. The anticipation is killing you, then you feel it. First the head teasing your hole before he finally pushes the rest of his thick cock into you. It almost melts you, finally being full of him, his cock stretching you out. 

It has you almost immediately, bucking your hips up against him, needing to feel him deeper.  

“You’re more needy than I thought you’d be,” he murmurs, rasping against your ear, followed by the scrape of his teeth, just enough to make you shiver.

You try to respond, try to form a coherent thought, but all that escapes your lips are muddled words. Your breath hitches, mind fogged and drowning in sensation. You want to push back, to take control of the moment, to challenge him, but it feels too good.

He starts fucking his cock into you, fast and hard pounding every bit of sense out of you. 

He kisses you again, deeper this time, like he’s trying to stake a claim. When he pulls away, he moves his hips faster and presses down against your stomach so he can feel himself moving inside of you.

“You look better when you’re wrecked.”

He tilts his head, mock sympathy in his tone. “Poor thing. Still pretending you don’t like it.”

You glare at him, chest rising and falling like you’ve just run miles.

“So fucking mean.”

Living up to his reputation, he decides to push you that little bit further. 

As he he continues fucking you senseless, he starts rubbing your clit again with his free hand, too fast for you to handle, “Wait, wait…fuck!”

It’s no use, his smile only grows wider as he matches his thrusts to how he was rubbing your wet, sensitive pussy. “You can take it,” he goads. 

“Please, please, if you keep going—”

You knew what was coming, and you were embarrassed it was happening so soon. 

“If you think I’m slowing down, you’re sorely mistaken,” he tells you, before going even faster. You’re practically convulsing under him, tears pricking at your eyes. And oh, how he wanted to make them fall, to see you become a broken, pretty little mess for him and only him. 

One more thrust and you’re squirting all over his cock, your whole body spasming as your orgasm rolls through you. The scream you let out ripped through you, sending energy shooting out and knocking your bathroom door clean off.

“So beautiful,” he praises as he continues moving his hips. He won’t let you come down from this high; he wants to keep pushing you. 

“H-hey, I just—”

“And you’ll do it again,” he says, leaving no room for argument. His hips keep moving, not stopping for anything. The rhythm is punishing, perfect like he’s mapped out your body with obsessive precision and is now determined to wring every last tremor from it. There was nothing else on his mind but bringing you back to that edge and fucking you through it over and over and over again. 

He wanted you completely at his mercy, mind and body.

“That’s it, give it to me.”

By the third orgasm, your body was trembling, nerves frayed, legs shaking, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. And still, he had you chasing a fourth. His thrusts were relentless, his mouth unforgiving, like he knew exactly how to keep you on the edge of breaking and never quite letting go.

“So eager for me,” he whispers,  hands gripping your ass. You can feel the remnants of his past orgasms drying on your inner thighs as he continues to creampie you.

You felt wrecked, but not ruined. You felt alive.

Like every nerve had been lit with purpose, like something hollow in you had finally been filled.

When he finally pulled you into his lap, your limbs limp with aftershocks, he cradled you with surprising tenderness. You buried your face in his neck, the scent of him dizzying. You whispered something half-formed, voice cracking—

“I can’t, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, brushing his fingers through your hair. His touch was soft now, his thrusts slower and deep. “And you will.”

You felt tethered to him, like if you let go, the world would splinter around you.

You fisted your hand in his hair, wrenched his head back, exposing his throat, and sank your teeth into the soft skin just above his collarbone. The sounds he made, a half-growl, half-moan, spurred you on. You sucked hard, teeth scraping, tongue chasing heat like it might save you.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t supposed to be.

You bit down harder, hard enough that if he weren’t invulnerable, you would’ve drawn blood. 

You throw your head back in pleasure as his cock massages your spot bringing you that much closer to cumming again. 

“So deep,” you whine, your fingers digging into his back. You were so full, so fucked out of your mind and completely gone.

“Ready to cum for me again?” It’s not graceful. It’s desperate. Mouths crashing together like a storm finally making landfall. His hands grip your face like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. 

“Oh fuck…yes…,” you breathe out, losing what’s left of your sanity. 

And then you finish for the fourth time, your body weak and You hear him groan against your lips, his fingers digging into your thighs and then you’re taking another cumshot deep inside of you. Feeling his hot load filling you up again has your eyes rolling back, drool spilling from your lips before you can stop it. 

He made you climax so hard that it’s like an out-of-body experience. Sobs erupt from your lips; you’d never taken it like this.

Tears start streaming down your face, your lip trembles despite your best efforts, the mask slipping as you’re still overrun by the pleasure he gave you. 

When you’re with him, when The Void has stripped you bare and all your defences are down, you can barely remember the last time you let yourself cry like this. 

He watches every tear fall like they mean something. There’s no mockery in his expression this time, just awe. Maybe now you see that you’re as broken as he is.

“Look at you…,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your cheek, catching a tear. “Crying for me.”

“Only for you,” you whisper, hoarse and trembling, the words slipping out like a secret you didn’t mean to tell.

You hold him tighter, clinging to him. He had broken you open, exposed the most fragile parts, but you still didn’t want to let go.

The Void leans in, barely audible against your ear. “Good.”

You stay there, cockwarming him as he goes soft inside of you. The aftershocks of fluttering through you for several minutes.

Eventually (reluctantly), you get off of him to lie beside him, your head resting against his chest. His eyes roamed over you with something feral and reverent all at once, like you were a masterpiece carved from starlight and shadow. The soft sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your chest rose and fell like you hadn’t quite come down from him yet.

He didn’t know if he was capable of love. But this?

This was the closest he had ever come.

Having you here, tethered to him not by force, but by choice. And now he’d do anything to keep you, nothing else mattered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, fingers drawing patterns over your protection tattoo. 

You raised a brow, sceptical, though your body remained pressed to his.

“Do you promise? Last time, we only kissed and you pulled a disappearing act for a week.”

His jaw flexed. A flicker of guilt, or at least something close to it, passed through his eyes, gone as quickly as it came.

“I had to go,” he said, brushing his knuckles across your cheek with something bordering on gentleness. “You scared me.”

“I scared you?”

That was the last thing you expected him to admit. 

“You made me feel something.” His fingers skimmed your lips. “And I didn’t know what to do with that.”

But then he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, voice quieter now, almost a vow.

“I’m here now and I’ll never leave your side.”

𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡𓇻˚｡

The first thing you hear when you wake up is panic.

There’s a loud, urgent banging against your door, voices muffled but familiar, overlapping in shouts and pleas.

“Open the door!”

“Are you okay?”

“Please, just say something!”

You recognise them. The team.

But the sounds feel distant, warped like they’re bleeding in from another world.

Because when you open your eyes, you know your room is off.

Though daylight seeps in through the cracks of the curtains, it does nothing to chase away the black shadows that stain the walls, the ceiling, and the bed. They move like snakes curling and slithering like they’re alive. Crawling toward you. Wrapping around the sheets. The floor. Your ankles.

Your breath catches.

He’s still there.

Just as he promised.

The Void sits next to you, cloaked in darkness, his golden eyes fixed on you. Watching you sleep like a sentinel. He says nothing for a moment, just stares. But then he breaks the silence. 

“I’m done waiting.”

He rises with the kind of smooth grace that makes your skin crawl and your chest ache all at once. Slowly, he extends his hand toward you, palm open, but with an edge that says it won’t stay that way for long. You need to make your decision now. 

“I want you with me… always.”

There’s something terrifying in how earnest he sounds.

“There’s nothing more for us here,” he says, stepping closer, shadows rising with him. “They’ll never understand you. But I do. I’ve always understood you.”

The knocking grows louder, more frantic, now the unmistakable sound of shoulders slamming against wood coming through. They’re trying to break it down.

“Please, open the door!”

The Void doesn’t even glance toward the sound.

His hand remains outstretched.

“You don’t belong with them,” he whispers. “You belong with me.”

The Void, with his outstretched hand and golden eyes that see everything. Every shame. Every secret. Every dark thing you’ve ever done or wanted.

And yet… he doesn't flinch.

He sees all of it, and still, he says, “I want you.”

The voices behind the door are fading now, or maybe you're just choosing not to hear them. You should tell him to kick rocks and hold your ground. You’re a hero, right? But you are tired. So tired. So tired of being good and having nothing to show for it. 

Hope has always come with weight. With expectation.

But this? This felt more like freedom. Maybe you knew you’d make this decision all along. 

You see all his darkness, cruelty and brokenness, and still say, “I want you too.”

You just reach out, your fingers curling into his. The moment your skin touches his, the shadows surge forward, swallowing the light in the room, climbing up your spine like roots wrapping around a tree.

There’s no going back.

The door behind you slams open, the voices rushing in, but it's too late.

You're both already gone.

Main Masterlist || Marvel Masterlist