#surely i can do another and another and another. maybe things will change. they dont. of course they dont. how could they change for someon

[cardboardslugs]

Imagine you have a car you got new and one day, maybe like two weeks after you get it off the lot, It starts making this awful, terrible, really bad, super loud noise all the time. Naturally, You are a good car owner, so you take it to the mechanic at the dealership you bought it from and when they ask what's wrong, you tell them "yeah, my car is making this awful terrible really bad super loud noise. It is Constant. I don't know what I did to cause it, But I think Something is VERY Wrong and We should Fix That."

So mechanic looks and they hear the noise and they say "aw shit, yeah, youre right.... have you tried just not listening to it?"

You think, for a moment, they might be joking, So you ask. "pardon?"

"yeah, i hear people like you come in here complaining about this ALL the time and like yeah the noise is REALLY bad, i get that, sure, but like. Have you tried just not listening to it?"

You think this mechanic might be a fucking quack. Probably just dealership nonsese, you figure. You go to get a second oppinion.

You tell the new mechanic the exact same thing. They nod at you sagely and put a hand on your arm.

"Yes, I'm so so sorry! I know what it's like, people come in with this problem all the time, and my car does it occasionally for a few miles too!! Have you tried putting on classical music and playing it REALLY loud until it stops?"

"... It doesnt stop. Thats the Problem." You correct them.

"Now you're just being defeatist. It DOES stop. You just dont notice it. It always stops!"

You look at them like they are fucking insane. You're certain they fucking ARE. Still, you go to six other mechanics. Friends ride in your car and hear it too. They all tell you some variation of what the first two mechanics told you. So you think "okay well clearly this is fine and Im just crazy, I guess. My car making this awful terrible really bad super loud noise is Entirely Normal."

one day, about a year later, you go in for an oil change at a new combo oil and mechanic place, and the guy changing your oil is like "HOLY SHIT YOU KNOW YOUR CAR IS MAKING THIS AWFUL TERRIBLE REALLY BAD SUPER LOUD NOISE RIGHT??" and youre like "uh, yeah, duh, its done that essentially since i got it. Everyone says its fine, basically." and your oil guy starts freaking the fuck out because "HEY I DONT KNOW WHO TOLD YOU THATS NORMAL BUT ITS NOT!! Our mechanic sees that shit all the time, he can fix it and tell you whats up!"

And you think you're in for another runaround and another massive bill but this mechanic takes one listen and is like "OH! its one of these huh? yeah, these models have are faulty alll the way down their combustion line, from gas to engine to exhaust. You can't actually fix it, BUT you can make the stop by tinkering with other stuff, but since something different is wrong depending when and how your model was built in the factory, youre gonna have to try a bunch of different solutions, but I'll work with you on it. it is a super serious issue that can destroy your car if you do nothing."

So you work with this mechanic. You work with him for years. You put all sorts of detergents in your gas. You stop the detergents and only use certain gas. You put in new parts for the engine. You take out parts of the engine. You stop going on long drives. You only go on long drives. Some of it helps, quiets the noise. Some of it is fucking useless. nothing ever makes it STOP. No real cause is ever pinpointed.

A new gas station pops up in your city. It only sells gas made out of heavily processed alge. You think that's a weird little caveat, and probably can't be good to put in a car... Anyone who uses it says it fucking rocks, Best shit their car has ever had, never run better. Some people staunchly refuse to try it because of all sorts of reasons, mostly that it has no real testing done on it. Your city allows the sale of it, sure, but makes it very very clear that they do not know what it will do to your car and you can try it, but at your own risk.

Your car NEVER stopped making that noise. You feel like its louder and more intense ever since you put in a turbo jump and had it taken out because it backfired.

You say "fuck it, what do I have to lose?!" And try the damn alge-based gas every other fill-up. AND IT WORKS. it works wonders, your car goes from essentially a lemon to a bare minimum fucntional workhorse practically overnight, even if the exhaust reeks.

You see your now-regular mechanic again and you finally tell him "yeah, It was so bad, I just tried that alge gas and everything cleared up almost instantly"

"YES!!! OH *HELL* YEAH!!" Your mechanic is, somehow, happier than you are. "I've wanted to tell you to try that since like 6 weeks in for us, because I figured its what you needed, but I'm legally required to never reccommend that!!"

You feel like you've just been wacked with a wet fish. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, only the dealership can actually legally reccomend that. Part of the legislature of allowing Alge-based gas to be sold."

You might be thinking this is NOT a post about owning a car with a serious problem. You'd be right. This is a post about Generalized Anxiety Disorder and the Legalities of Marijuana.

[kroosluvr]

black mask sumire

[gay-artificer]

Okay I might not have anyone here whos able to contribute to this question but, in the past, I have used 'Hermaphrodite" as a purely scientific word, with heavy stressing that it is not to be confused with the definition of intersex or used to describe actual human beings under any circumstances. This is in part because I've never actually found a good term to replace it, as a lot of suggested terms are... unfitting or somewhat mismatched in a strictly scientific/biological sense. A lot of the suggested terms from more worldbuilding-focused individuals are used more (or strictly) for plants, or at least in 99% of contexts tend to be used for plants or describe slightly more specific things than just "Animal with both sexual systems at once." Plants as a whole have like... god, like ten different terms for various sexual setups because they can be stupidly complicated in a way that you just aren't likely to see with most animals, which tend to be more simplistic (at least slightly, lmao). There's also the slightly more niche issue that a lot of suggested alternatives address the topic from the strict goal of 'replace the word' and thus haven't yet spread to cover some of the specific forms that can apply too, although this would probably be a pretty easy fix if everyone can agree on a term, but at least as it is I still seems like everyone is split 5 different ways on which to use. In terms of fiction/casual use I've generally been defaulting to duel-sexed, which isn't an actual used term as far as I know, just because its pretty self descriptive and also wouldn't have some fringe specific scientific use- which is an issue I'd think you'd only really be bothered by if you were dipped in a lot of discussions about fringe animal biology- which is where I think a lot of suggestions from individuals more on the intersex activism side tend to fall when the terms they raise clash against niche situational biology things. Ive also used non-gonochoristic which is both clunkier and less easily picked up by less familiar individuals, but is also basically strictly 'animal' in use. Recently I've seen cosexual, which admittedly I seemed to have missed because yet again its a term where 99% of its use is isolated to plants, although it seems like there is a handful of uses cases that applied it specifically to animals (But still ultimately fall back on the other term in order to clarify the specifics). At least in terms of recent suggestions its probably the one I think would be most likely to pick up traction as a replacement, but its definitely still mired in the problematic terminology (In that basically everything I've seen use it only commits to using it alongside the other term, rather than attempt to replace it) and also still heavily plant related. Although not to the degrees of some of the popular suggestions like 'monoecious' which is a fairly common and well known word- but its specific relationship with other plant terminology makes it feel ill-fitted for the role when its not going to mixed with plant bullshit. Seriously look at this:

I've also seen bigenital suggested recently, which I frankly think is a much worse/weaker word both in terms of just, terminology and also its finer application. And then a handful of terms that just very blatantly have too much crossover with other things. Also a dozen other words that I've seen floating around over the years, but they definitely exist as mostly peoples personal suggestions/solutions and not ones with any real traction. It's a problem I've seen repeatedly brought up, but have yet to actually see any sort of formal correction take hold. And I think part of that is almost certainly a bit of a clash between nerds trying to maintain the specific definitions of things in an area where theres already a lot of confusing overlap, Activists who rightfully want get things changed but aren't clued in as hard to more niche scientific terminology concerns like "This is specifically for plants who have a specific type of reproduction system organization with their flowers, and thus doesn't quiet work for something that doesn't have multiple sets of genitals in different arrangements as most animals do" and well meaning scientists who want to avoid the word and try using alternatives but ultimately fall back on the one people know and that they know scientifically describes the thing they want to describe even if it also carries a historically negative connotation with it. Which is where I'm realizing I've kinda been sitting, because things really haven't shifted once you sit down and read the stuff that gets put out, and unlike some... other words its specific use case is a bit less easily swapped out with synonyms. So you just fall back in on the less ideal but accepted within the bubble youre working in term. So I guess the question is, has anyone here actually seen something make some ground past just sort of 'this would be a nice replacement'? I'd frankly love if I've just somehow missed a big shift in language in the scientific community, but so often I just see people claim that one term is the new standard when its like... standard in that its used heavily in botany, and there generally is a split between botany and zoology in terms of terminology that people would want to maintain. (God don't let anyone tell you 'male and female' are the only options or bring up that stupid 'its 1st grade biology' bullshit. The world is so stupidly complicated and this would not be an issue if it was so simple but unfortunately we need terminology for all the weird shit exclusively found in three species of cactus) Anyway, I typed this whole thing up kinda just to see if anyone else had yet more terms they've seen around or even used actually properly in a scientific paper, and its a whole mess thats been bothering me with specbio for years and at the end of typing this I'm honestly just hoping more that cosexed/cosexual catches on. I think it forms a nice trifecta with perisexed/intersexed/cosexed. And hey, maybe it has caught on more in the sex and gender side of things (let me know if so, if you happen to be more familiar with that) cause I certainly am more clued in to the non-human biology stuff which is where you get weird things one single species of rose has decided to do we now have to name. On a lighter note. God I hate plants. They give me headaches.

[the-acid-pear]

Mental illness is insane I'm just having dinner w my father eating this a little too spicy pasta enjoying the Yeowch on my throat and the silence and suddenly I'm like yeah I'd kill myself.

[manifestingitgurlll]

how to make the ego submit.

i'm sure all of us have been in this situation at least once:

you're manifesting something. you decide, feeling 100% fulfilled, knowing nothing could go wrong. but then you hear the thoughts.

the loud negative thoughts screaming "you're wrong!! you don't have it. you're lying to yourself. it's impossible." people tell you to just ignore it, but how can you when it's SO loud that it's taking over your mind?

this is the ego. the ego thinks logically and relies on its senses. it believes that because it doesn't see it, then it isn't real.

but you are NOT the ego! you are consciousness. meaning those thoughts and feeling aren't yours. they have nothing to do with you. so you don't identify with it. you dismiss it. but how do you do that when its so overbearing?

how do you make it submit?

you just have to beat it at it's own game.

like i said, the ego thinks logically. so all you have to do, is beat it with logic. watch how it can't come up with a response. watch how it submits.

(now you, consciousness, don't believe in logic. logic doesn't even exist to you. but it doesn't mean you can't use it against the ego 🙃)

let's go through some examples:

say you have a test today but you decide it's postponed. immediately, your ego screams "no its not! don't you see what the teacher said? it's today!! it's too late for it to change." but you stay calm. you dont let that affect you.

you reply, "what if they get sick and have to cancel?" it thinks. but what can it say? it responds,"oh...you're right...that is a possibility i guess." see how it can't argue with you?

heres another one. your sp is dating someone else, but you decide they love you instead. again, your ego yells "no they don't! why are you lying to yourself? they're literally dating someone else." do you spiral? no. you know that's not true.

you go, "what if he's just trying to find the right time to break up?" the ego thinks again. no rebuttal. it accepts, saying "hm..i didn't think of that...that could be true."

last one. you have brown hair, but you decide you have blonde hair. of course, your ego cries out "no you don't! you obviously have brown hair, look in the mirror. see? brown. you can't have blonde hair, it's impossible." hearing this, you don't falter. you don't break down.

you persist and respond, "what if the brown hair was hair dye? and i just forgot?" it thinks, trying to grasp for straws. but it can't find any. it eventually gives up, thinking ""well...i guess that makes sense..maybe it is real."

SEE? the ego has no rebuttal !! because HOW can it rebut logic, the very thing it follows?? it can't.

it can't respond. it can't argue. it can't fight.

all it can do is submit.

(and don't use this as a crutch!! you shouldn't be going back and forth with ur ego, its not real, don't give it all that attention. this is just for the people who feel very obsessive at first. no matter how much you ignore, you feel like it won't go away. use this, watch it submit, then leave it. ignore and dismiss it.)

[rawme-price]

Gaz and Ace!reader who are horribly in love, but you never told kyle you were ace.

Sure, you really should tell him. Because open and honest communication is important. A relationship built on lies is bound to crumble, but you really like kyle. You maybe even love him, and the last time you told a boyfriend you were ace it ended in disaster.

You dont think you can take another heartbreak. Not from kyle.

So you just...dont tell him. You do all the cute couples things, go out on dates and gross people out with insane levels of PDA. Hell, you even meet his teammates! (You pointedly ignore the guilt crawling in ur gut when johnny says hes never met any of kyles past partners)

Of course, there's no avoiding it. Months into the relationship and a very heavy make-out session has kyles hands teasing at the edge of your waist band. You subtly avert his attention, drop to your knees instead. Except halfway through pumping his cock into your mouth, gaz pulls you off with a furrowed brow. Your stomach twists at his worried expression. "Hey, hey. Baby, is everything okay? You...you dont have to suck me off if you dont want to. You know that, right?"

You laugh nervously, glance away. "What- what makes you think I dont?"

Kyle raises an unimpressed brow "oh I don't know. Maybe the fact you were grimacing the whole time."

"Oh shit- kyle baby im sorry its-" you begin to apologize, scared that you somehow hurt his feelings worse than telling him no.

"No, no dear, im not mad. I just- i dont want you to force yourself to do it." Kyle reassures, hand slipping around your waist. His voice turns low and sly with "besides, there's other ways to have fun. Cmon, any preference? I'll do whatever for you honey"

Shit. There's no getting out of this.

"No. Its, I dont want to do anything." You take a deep breath, look away. "Im...im ace, kyle. I just dont have those...urges. its nothing against you, that's just how I am."

You begin to do damage control when kyle doesn't respond "if thats a deal breaker for you, thats okay, I wont blame you. But If it is you have to tell me now, please, I cant- i cant handle the uncertainty if it will or wont work, i-"

"Why the hell would that be a deal breaker?" Kyle's absolutely baffled voice has your eyes snapping back to him, and he looks a bit like a kicked puppy "baby. I love you. Okay? Love. I'll love you even if you never touch me."

He sounds so certain, so honest. It feels miles apart from the boyfriends who reluctantly agreed to try even after you revealed you were ace. Or the boyfriends who told you to change or they'd leave. Unbidden, tears well in ur eyes.

"But- but you won't be satisfied! And- and you'll think you still want me but you wont- and-" why the hell are you saying this? Are you trying to get him to leave?

Kyle just coos at you, cups your jaw in his hand. "Hey. No, baby, look at me. Sex is just one of many ways two people feel good together, yeah? If you dont feel good, then I dont want to do it. End of story. Its just like going on a date, you wouldn't want to go if you knew I was having a bad time, right? Same thing."

You sniffle, lashes wet "so...so we're not breaking up? You still want me?"

"Yes. Of course honey." He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then proceeds to kiss all over ur face until you begin to giggle. No trace of tears left.

"Besides," gaz says with a grin "ive got a perfectly good left hand and plenty of toys back home."

You scrunch your nose and make a fake gagging sound "ew. Youre gross babe."

"You love me though!"

"....I do."

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Moving in with them (18+)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~6)

Hiatus FUCKING OVER !

PILE 1

5 wands, Page wands

How will it be ? 

Hey babes … How are u ? Another night spent in insomnia… one would think that with all that overthinking you would live an amazing life yet you only look drained. Almost as if that is the point … xoxo. Now let’s dive into your reading, living with them is going to be very passionate. 

A lot of displays of affection, a lot of touching and a lot of teasing. Morning cuddles, bad breath kisses, back hugging while cooking breakfast, teasing them with your booty short when they comeback from work or them running a bath for you so they can dive in it (iykyk) and constant fucking hugging. Don't get me wrong since I am diving into a relationship, I know it is going to be cheesy but y’all are pussing it in my visions. ALWAYS HUGGING, KISSING OR TOUCHING IN ALL THE WAY POSSIBLE. Had to turn around and look for the camera crew because it looks like y’all are filming some kind of romcom. Lets not forget the eye contact, all I could think was : ‘’Just fuck already…’’ before I realize I am the one out of place. Don't yell at me, I am getting out of your way babe. Not to mention the beautiful friendship y’all have. You be roasting each other on the low for the fuck of it. You have a TV show you watch everyday together and no cheating or that is going to be a  problem … lol. You guys may be both obsessed with legos, you with the flowers one and them with the Star Wars one. You guys get really excited to spend y’all grown money on childish things together. Get even eager about basic shit like walking together or even grocery shopping because as long as y’all are together everything is worth it. 

How will it feel ? 

Y’all are going to keep the spark alive. Y’all are never settling the relationship or even taking the other for granted. Is not because you pay bills, you have to deal with changing lights or even putting furniture together that you are not lustfully in love. You would go on dates often. Is not because y’all are home together everyday that you dont deserve to go on dates. You will still put effort in your looks. Doing your hair, nails and keeping up with the shaving and lingerie to please your men. That does not mean you can not rock a bush and an amazing Adam Sandler outfit at home without him being turned on. You genuinely put in the work to make each other happy. They will help with house chores even tho you actually enjoy doing them because they want to show you  that they care and see the work that you are doing around the house. You cook and they do the dishes. Even the simple act of you taking a bath, they would probably be sitting beside you,  laptop on their lap answering some emails. At the end of the day both of you understood that it takes effort to show love  the proper way to your partner. 

PS: They love when you are busy doing your own thing around the house it turns them on. You are cooking while they are  probably just yapping beside you, having a hard on or getting wet. You are moping around the house while they are playing video games, they are having a hard on. You do your hair and makeup in the morning and they just start hoping they dont get hard. Is almost like  seeing you acting in a domestic setting with them is making them more horny. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Why are they grateful for your existence ? (I know I said no more free but I love y'all 2 much)

3. COLLECTIVE READING (FREE) : BLOSSOM.

PLZ, if you have any ideas of topic regarding this playlist share it with me (comments, dm or inbox ... thx babe)

PILE  2

4 pentacles, 9 pentacles (reverse) 

How is it going to be ? 

Hey Chérie d’Amour ! How has life been lately ? Good … You sure. If life has been that good why are you spending it daydreaming. Is ok, maybe everything is too overlearning right now but it is not by hiding behind your maladaptive fantasy that your reality will get any better. Don't rush, take a deep breath, I am sure you have all the power in you to find your way out of that situation.

For now, let's dive into what's good awaiting you when you are brave enough to deal with reality. When you eventually move in with the love of your life, nothing will really change. Before you move out, they may be very protective and possessive over you. They don't like it when other eyes wander over you. They will never ask you to change because they enjoy your creativity and love seeing you feeling comfortable enough with your body to wear your risky outfit. Knowing how really insure you feel sometimes in your skin. Yet it does not stop them to death stare every fucking persorn laying yes upon you. They need you location on all the time. Every time they dont get to drive you around they must know who is with you and if you are safe. Honestly you love it , because often you grew up and nobody would pay attention to you. Often people would joke and say their only friend is their parents but for you it has been like this since elementary school. It's like you don't exist. People at work can go months without knowing your name and in some fuck up way  some people dont even know your existence while literary sitting right beside you. You never thought you really matter, you were sure that if you die it would not change a fucking thing. Until him, all the way he deals with you makes you feel very seen. Living together they may even throw baby tantrums because all they want to do is spend time with you. They may have a 20 minute alarm before they real alarm so they remember to cuddle you before starting to get ready for work. They may even try to invite you to boy night just to be with you. They will often want to cuddle you while he plays video games. Dont worry I dont see you giving up on yourself to please their little bratty needs. Them pouring into you is actually going to make you go after what you want in life. I see you are going to meet your soul tribe after them, your grades will improve or you will find a better job after him because you are not going to be scared to ask for more from life anymore. 

How is it going to feel ?

A bad bitch is born. I know I am supposed to focus on your couple but all I see is you. You are going to be so much more independent when you are going to be living with them. You may actually get your driver license which is weird because rn you may have driving anxiety. You may enroll in a hobby like pilates, yoga or even pole dancing. Your calendar is so much more busy. You pour so much more into you. You eat with no shame, you dress how the fuck you want, you create and enforce bounderies regarding the respect people should give you. Damm I am not a fan of the rhetoric that love heals because I believe that you should be your own healer. I don't think they healed you because to meet them you need to get out of your own way but them pouring into you  gives you enough strength to finally look at the glass with no shame and see all your potential. 

PS : I don't know if y’all care but the message came through. They have a circumsized dick. No extra skin with that one…lol. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Why are they grateful for your existence ? (I know I said no more free but I love y'all 2 much)

3. COLLECTIVE READING (FREE) : BLOSSOM.

PLZ, if you have any ideas of topic regarding this playlist share it with me (comments, dm or inbox ... thx babe)

PILE 3 

 Knight pentacles, 10 cups

How will it be like ? 

How are y’all doing babies? Don't worry … no need to grab your pearls. I come here in peace and with good news. Whatever manifestion you did recently weather you did a whole spell work or just wish upon the star that shit is coming in fucking quickly ! Congrats babes ! Now let's dive into more good stuff. 

To begin with I think you are going to move in together with bigger commitment than the other piles. There's a high chance that y’all are going to be engaged. Also I think whoever you are moving in next … you are going to marry them. You may also get pregnant in that apartment. To add, after marriage, y’all are going to build your dream house not actually buy it . Going back to baby… you know what is the best part of it … MAKING IT ! A shit y’all going to have a whole lot of sex. Damm when you are ovalating the house is transforming into a sex dangeon, like you can even fuck 2 to 3 time a fucking day. I mean you fucking everywhere. On the sofa, the bed, in the hallway, in the closet, on the kitchen counter … does not matter. Like is not fucking enough, it take nothing to set the fire between y’all. Just one intense eye contact or your hands barely caressing each other and  you are on it. Fucking like animals going as far as pushing anything on your way. That being said stability is going to be a key element in y’all relationship. You guys are serious about making it in this fuck up economy. You want the house and the kids. You will invest together, save  and meet with a specific financial advisor so they can help you sort out the best assurance. You will have cars and save every year for a couple trips. You will have meetings in the dining room or living room discussing your fiance and doing weekly check ups to make sure to keep y’all motivated and to keep y’all in  line. If you have a couple goals surring eating better and moving more the whole house is going to reflect it. With vegetables and everything free ingredients filling up the fridge and pantry. 

How will it feel ? 

You are going to feel seen. You are going to feel like you matter. Is the way they can spend hours staring at you. Is the way they go to the store and buy products made for you curls because one day while you were pillow talking you complained about your curls being dry and not juicy. Took upon their own hand to actually research about good products. Is the way you have fresh flowers every 2 weeks without asking. Is the way they do you cup of coffee every morning or bring you a snack when you stay up late on an assignment. I can go on and on but to sum it up, you are fulfilled by the effort they put out to make sure you FEEL love. 

PS : They may be quite submissive in the bedroom. They whimper more than grunts or groan (or whatever noise men are making). They love being your good boy and also enjoy obeying your orders in the bedroom. Not in a BDSM way, more in a natural sexual power play in the bedroom. Also love to please you and worship you. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Why are they grateful for your existence ? (I know I said no more free but I love y'all 2 much)

3. COLLECTIVE READING (FREE) : BLOSSOM.

PLZ, if you have any ideas of topic regarding this playlist share it with me (comments, dm or inbox ... thx babe)

[acciojaeyun]

– cut scene, cut the chase | psh.

PAIRING. idol!sunghoon x staff, fem!reader SUMMARY. you work behind-the-scenes for one of the biggest kpop companies in the industry, belift, and you have a secret: you run one anonymous X account to vent every frustration and grudge about the company's visual ice prince, park sunghoon. he finds this account and instead of reporting you... he starts flirting? CONTENTS. enemies to lovers (e2l), SUNGHOON IS DANGEROUSLY FLIRTY. slowburn, praise kink, hair pulling, dom!sunghoon, dirty talk, light marking, reader is teased into begging, mentions of big dick sunghoon hehe, oral (f receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (pls dont; reader is on the pill, BUT STILL). a bit of angst if you squint, there's a bit of power imbalance, semi-public sex. body worship. she fell first, he fell harder. MDNI. WORD COUNT. 10.9k (i genuinely thought it was 20k) AUTHOR'S NOTE. hi, i’m back! and with lots of fic ideas i hope you enjoyyyy. hnggg. i really have no other stuff to say. HAHAHA. hope you like it <3<3

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST, YOU CAN SEND ME A MESSAGE.

It starts, as most mistakes do, with a tweet.

You're more of a background poster than anything. An anonymous handle with a blurry profile pic which you've taken while you were out in the Han river, barely 300 followers, and two things everyone can piece together if they pay attention:

One, you work at BELIFT.

Two, you work closely with ENHYPEN.

Too close, maybe. Close enough that you retweet clips of Jungwon being the cutest cat-like leader you've ever met. Close enough that you've ranted about Heeseung's additional ad-libs and last minute line changes, praised Ni-ki's professionalism at 3 AM, and the most damning of them all, tweeted far too often about how Park Sunghoon is the human embodiment of a soft-launch breakup.

Your followers think you're just funny. That you're just playing a bit. That maybe you're a delusional fan with a production job fantasy.

There had been a lot of replies to your tweets every now and then, asking if you really work in BELIFT and for ENHYPEN, or if Heeseung really does have a girlfriend. Some have the audacity to even question whether you really work in BELIFT or you're just another person acting like you do in order to have X engagement.

You even remember the time you've landed into one of Sunghoon's protection teams, saying that you were setting him up, and you laughed to yourself while you're checking the outfits lined up for Sunghoon in the music shows.

Like every anonymous poster, you don't reply. You never do. But still, the page grows.

ENGENEs aren't sure what to make of you. Your tweets toe the line between sarcastic slander and genuine devotion. It's not exactly hate, it's more like aggravated admiration. Like the kind of loathing that only forms when someone sees too much of a person. Sees past the polish, past the performance.

Especially when it comes to Park Sunghoon.

The ice prince of BELIFT, the company's visual jewel – oh, and your most consistent headache.

You don't actually hate him, but you sure as hell tweet like you do.

You were just off the set when your next mistake happens.

A Manila folder is tucked under your arm, barely holding on with pitch revisions and last-minute cue cards, some of which crumpled from being tossed back and forth between departments. A black mask hides half of your face, and your bucket hat hides the rest.

Safe to say, you look like a ghost in the mirrored lobby glass.

It's 2:07 AM, and you're on your third iced americano of the day and second mental breakdown of the week, and it's Monday.

The music video shoot ran longer than expected, again.

Jungwon's scenes needed reshoots. Heeseung's hair was frayed and pink at the roots even if he had his roots retouched eighteen hours ago. The harness used in Sunoo's wire-flying scene was too tacky.

And Sunghoon?

Well, Sunghoon, of course, had notes.

"It feels stiff, the camera blocking doesn't match the beat. I look bored, too."

You were bored, you think. And he looks not even short of perfect – albeit bored, perfect, still. But no one ever tells him that.

Because Park Sunghoon, for all his breathtaking angles and God-tier lighting, is never, ever satisfied. And worse, he somehow knows exactly when to glance at your direction when you're rolling your eyes behind the monitor.

It's always the same. You glare, he smirks, you look away.

Later, you tweet. And tweet.

[nuguhasdoubts] park sunghoon blinked at the script today like it owed him money. he's so unserious for someone that pretty.

10 likes. One reply. You scroll.

[nuguhasdoubts] heeseung gives you a small nod and you feel seen. sunghoon stares into your soul and suddenly you're 12 and being picked last in PE again.

35 likes. Four replies. One quote tweet: "this is the most specific kind of hate ever," it read, and you snort.

[nuguhasdoubts] 2:15 AM no way he asked for natural lighting only during a night shoot. the director blinked five times. i blinked six. [nuguhasdoubts] 2:16 AM i hate that they still found a way... [nuguhasdoubts] 2:21 AM "can we do that again?" no, park sunghoon, we cannot. i've been standing for ten hours my spine ha sfolded like origami. [nuguhasdoubts] 2:24 AM he said thanks to everyone. do i forgive him? [nuguhasdoubts] 2:31 AM he walked past me and smelled like money and that another 13. and he is a tamburins endorser. still, i almost forgave him. almost.

You slam the X app shut at exactly 2:35 AM, just when you finish scrolling through your timeline and finish the read. Your phone's screen gives in to black, and for a moment, the smallest, briefest moment, it feels like silence.

But then your phone buzzes again.

And again, and again.

A cascade of notifications light up the cracked top corner, your battery bleeding at 8%, like it's crumbling under the weight of your life. You paid no mind, it could be one of those For You notifications built in to X's system depending on your tweets and interactions.

So, you stuff your phone deep into your jacket pocket and don't look back.

The night smells like asphalt and boiled coffee. The streets are empty now, save for a few flickering lampposts and a stray cat peering out from behind a row of parked scooters. You walk with your hand-me-down PRADA bag from your manager slung over one shoulder and the Manila folder hugged to your chest like it's an extra organ you're afraid to leave behind.

You've just wrapped a eighteen-hour shoot.

Eighteen hours of whispers through earpieces, running cables, resetting blocking, coordinating the makeup crew when Jay's contour got smudged, as well as rushing down to the pantry to get Jake his iced americano because his sugar was crashing.

Eighteen hours of explaining that no, natural lighting at night doesn't work that way, Park Sunghoon.

You almost laughed when he asked it. But he'd been so serious, too serious, and so of course, they made it work anyway.

You don't even remember when the grudge started.

Maybe it wasn't even a grudge. Maybe it was just a slow, quiet erosion of patience. One missed cue at a time. One more perfect shot that had to be redone because Sunghoon found the camera blocking off from the center just a tad. One more request that, had it come from anyone else, would've been given not much attention, but from him? It became gospel.

The elevator is quiet when you step in, except for the gentle ping of each floor and your own reflection staring back from mirrored walls. You look exhausted, hair damp from humidity, lanyard still looped around your neck – a stark contrast from the tall, sleek, glass gleaming in the dark of a building that looks like it should be filmed, not lived in.

It's part of the HYBE executive housing arrangement, a perk they throw in for long-term staff or those tied to core artist departments like production, creative, and management.

You'd wanted to cry the day you moved in. Not because you were happy, but because you really weren't.

The 27th floor smells like jasmine from a diffuser that someone in HR probably chose to help boost employee morale. You unlock your door with a fingerprint and step into a condo that's too clean, too white, too empty.

The living room is minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows and an unobstructed view of the Seoul skyline. All cold lights and late-night neon blinking somewhere in the distance. There's a record player you bought on impulse last year. It sits untouched on the console. You never really had time to use it.

You drop your bag onto the couch. It's beige. You should feel proud. This is what people your age fight for. A stable job. A sleek place in the city. A title under one of the most powerful entertainment companies in the world.

But most nights, you stand here and feel like you've wandered into someone else's life.

You studied music and dance because you were in love with movement. You loved the language it conveys, the hush before a curtain rises. You loved creating. Not cueing. Not directing for one hair strand to be curled on Jake's forehead to recreate Zayn Malik's hairstyle. Not adjusting the lighting angles so it could highlight Jay's jawline. Not keeping a lot of vitamin products just in case Sunoo forgets his.

You became a production assistant because it was your foot in the door – but now the door feels like a wall.

And somehow, in the middle of all that, he exists.

Sunghoon.

The boy with swan limbs and dagger eyes. The boy who lives your dreams without knowing he's holding them.

Sometimes, you bother to hate him. Not really, though. But there are times that it's enough to make it through another twenty-hour shoot where he asks in the middle of one scene to have his Tiktok redone because it doesn't feel like it's the one.

Everyone bend over backwards, because he smiled at the end of it.

You hate that he's the personification of everything you've ever wanted, just born with it in his palm. You hate that he's also charming and polite. And once in a while, he bothers to say thank you, and when he does, it sounds so sincere.

So, you conclude that you hate that you can't actually hate him.

You roll over and finally plug in your dying phone. You have new notifications from X. You exhale through your nose, jaw tense.

Tomorrow, you'll deal with it.

But tonight, you lie in an apartment for your loneliness, thinking about the boy who doesn't know he lives in your head rent-free, and the dream that somehow slipped from your gasp and landed in his.

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand like a trapped insect.

You ignore it.

You drag yourself out of bed. Shower. Coffee. Outfit. You pull your production lanyard over your head and loop it twice so it doesn't swing. Your tiredness presses into your muscles like wet sand, but you move through it. You always do.

You don't look at your phone.

Not when you button your black trousers. Not when you tie your hair back. Not when you slip your HYBE identification card into your back pocket, not when you slide your keys and hand cream into your bag like it's any other day.

You go down to the lobby and sit awkwardly on the sofa near the vending machine as employees pile up in the lobby with their own things to look after.

There were a lot of discussions and complaints. You hear someone saying that there'll be a remix for SEVENTEEN's title track from a Western label. Another employee is too busy contacting production for Hobi's scheduled Tiktoks with other idols of HYBE.

The shuttle pulls up just in time for call just before you could know about every idol group's business.

By the time you reach the elevators of BELIFT, your phone buzzes again. Fifth time this morning.

You've ignored every single notification since the moment you stepped into the lobby. You had to. If you let even a single one in, you might've screamed. Out loud. In front of security.

You're already late, not scandalously late, but late enough to get the side-eye from the senior stylist who believes the world runs five minutes earlier than your clock does.

The lift opens. You barrel into it.

Third floor, fitting.

Dress rehearsals, new concept. New accessories. Another hell.

You mutter apologies as you push through the crowd of stylists and interns hauling rolling racks. Your arms ache from last night. You barely slept.

You turn the corner toward Studio B, prepping the lines in your head for the morning checklist, when someone stops you.

"Hey," says Jiyeon, one of the production coordinators, "Sunghoon has asked for you."

You blink. Once, twice. "What?"

"Sunghoon said he wants you to check something about his outfit. Costume issue or something. He's in the dressing room."

Your stomach dips.

"Why didn't he tell stylists directly?"

Jiyeon shrugs, "He said, and I quote, 'Can you get the girl with the blank face and the shiny clipboard? She'll know what I mean.'"

Your face twists, "Did he actually say I'm blank-faced?"

"Verbatim."

You blink, "And you still came to get me?"

"He also said please."

"Okay?"

"It's the first time he's done that," Jiyeon reasoned.

"Right."

You adjust your headset, sigh, and head toward the solo dressing room.

When you push open the door, he's already there, sitting on the edge of the couch in sweatpants and the teaser outfit. One arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other, fiddling with a button.

You stare at him from the doorframe like he's sprouted a second head.

He blinks up at you. Tilts his head, and then had the audacity to smile.

Park Sunghoon does not smile at you. Not unless he wants something. Not unless he's being paid. Not unless he's being insufferable.

"There she is," he says, stretching slightly, arm flexing against the couch as he drops the half-undone button, "Miss Blank Face with the clipboard. I was starting to worry you hate me that much not to go."

You blink, "You called me for a costume issue."

"Did I?"

You glared, "I have three stylists on stand-by. If this is about layering or fabric, I suggest–"

"Nah," he interrupts, rising to his feet in one fluid, confident motion, "This is more of a you thing."

The hell does that mean?

Your eyes flick over his outfit. Teaser fit: A white shirt, goggles hanging on his neck, beige cargo pants that are unbuttoned, his face lacking the needed peach makeup you specifically requested the makeup department. Still, it's nothing that needs your attention.

Still, you walk over, pulling the clipboard from your side and adjusting your headset.

"Okay, walk me through what's wrong."

He hums and walks toward you, slowly.

You notice now that his hair's still slightly damp, curled at the ends like he's fresh out of the wash and has rushed to set. But Sunghoon never rushes. He meant for the undone, wet look. He still looks fucking hot.

You hate him.

His cologne is faint but there, something woodsy and clean, and with a citrus edge that makes your already-dulled nerves ring with alertness.

Sunghoon stops in front of you. Too close.

He bends slightly at the waist, dramatic, exaggerated, inspecting.

"What's wrong," he echoes, as if thinking over your words, "Well, I've been thinking."

"That's never good."

He grins, "Funny. So, I've been thinking. Maybe I've been unfair to you."

You blink for the nth time today, "Huh?"

"You do a lot around here. You coordinate, direct, remind everyone when Ni-ki is wearing pink when he doesn't like pink. You work hard." He pauses, tilts his head, eyes dancing, "Even with a blank face."

You resist the urge to launch your clipboard at him.

He continues, utterly unbothered, "I think I misjudged you. Or maybe, we start off the wrong foot.. or, well, maybe I'm just starting to see you in a new light."

You squint, "Is this a bit?"

"Depends. You into roleplay?"

You stare.

He smiles wider.

The smirk now spreads over his face like butter on warm toast – easy, practiced, dangerously self-aware. As if he knows exactly what he's doing.

You've seen Sunghoon flirt before. He does it when the cameras are off. He knows how to bat his lashes just enough for things to go his way, how to draw people in like gravity with the perfect mix of boredom and beauty.

Usually, you've seen him give it to anyone else he deems worthy enough to give him what he wants. But this? This is directed at you.

Which is impossible. You're just a production assistant.

You narrow your eyes, "Do you need something, Sunghoon?"

He taps his lip, "Just wondering why someone might say I smelled like money and Le Labo and... what was it? Oh," he leans in, "Regret."

You freeze. But your face doesn't move. You've trained for this. You've worked backstage during entire album rollouts with less than four hours of sleep. You've sat through re-edits of comeback trailers frame by frame. You do not crack under pressure.

You kept your expression neutral.

"Sounds like a weird comment."

"Exactly," he says breezily, circling you like a shark, hands crossed while toying with his lips, "There was this thread. So dramatic. Really makes me wonder what I did to deserve that kind of hate. Or maybe..." He glances back at you, "Admiration. Hard to tell, isn't it?"

Your pulse thuds in your ears, "Must be some fan account."

"Oh, definitely a fan." He stops. Smirks.

You grit your teeth.

He knows.

But he won't say it out loud. Not yet. Not while he can watch you squirm.

You tuck your clipboard back under your arm and square your shoulders, "If you're done wasting my time, I have three racks to coordinate and a backup battery dying in the hallway."

He leans closer again, just a breath from your ear, "You know," he mutters, voice all sugar and daggers, "I never minded the hate. It's the interest that's flattering."

You step back, "Get dressed."

"I am dressed."

You point at the goggles hanging on his neck, "Fully. And you have makeup in ten."

He grins, but he lets you go, for now.

You don't rush as you leave, you don't want to give him the satisfaction. But the second you close the door, your back hits the hallway wall and your fingers tremble.

The convenience store near HYBE is quiet at night, save for the humming of refrigerators and the distant buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. The world outside still feels far too loud, too fast – but here, it feels suspended. Dim. Air-conditioned.

You sit at one of the corner tables, hunched over your bibimyeon like it holds the answers to your crisis. Your microwaved sotteok lies abandoned in its bowl, skewers askew like bones after a fight. You haven't touched it.

You're still scrolling.

Your thumb keeps twitching over the heart button, just to see what tweet comes next. It's like watching your own downfall unfold one quote tweet at a time. Funny, devastating, strangely intimate. People keep dissecting the phrasing, the tone, the way your thread reads less like a joke and more like a diary entry.

You're a meme now.

You take a long sip of your watered down iced latte.

The convenience store is nearly empty. Just a tired cashier scrolling on his own phone behind the counter, and a guy in a hoodie a few aisles down browsing the ramyeon shelf. You don't pay attention. You can't. Not when your screen lights up again.

[shnprod]: do you think she's like actually into him? [prodheegy]: is this user setting sh up again? lol [sunoology]: so is this a real life au? [jakewonbitz]: she's acting like she's really a hybe employee lmao

You want to crawl out of your skin.

You bury your face in your hands and groan quietly, elbows braced on the table. You consider deleting the account. Hell, maybe you should delete your entire identity.

You don't even notice the hoodie guy approaching until you hear the clink of a canned drink being set beside your food.

"That bad, huh?"

You nearly drop your phone.

Your head jerks up. A guy in a black cap, mask, and a loose hoodie sits across from you like it's the most casual thing in the world. His eyes are familiar, moles too familiar, but they're crinkled in amusement. Mischievous.

"You always look this haunted after scrolling your timeline?” he asks, stirring the cooked buldak in the cup.

You blink, "Do I know you?"

He tilts his head, mask hiding his mouth, but you see the smile in his eyes.

"No," he says, "but I feel like I know you."

Your stomach drops.

You snap your laptop shut – no, not your laptop, your phone – your phone, you idiot – and immediately swipe out the X app. Too late. He's already seen the screen. Maybe even the notifications section you're scrolling through.

You scramble, wiping your hands on your pants like that'll fix the sweat suddenly slick on your palms.

He gestures lazily toward your tray, "Mind if I join? Looks like your sotteok's crying for company."

You scowl, "There are seven empty tables."

"I like this one," he says, and finally pulls his mask down just enough to sip his canned coffee.

Park Sunghoon.

Of course.

You inhale sharply, "What are you doing here?"

"Late last minute run for Outside. I'm also craving tteok and buldak," he sips again, "you?"

You look at him flatly, "Avoiding a mental breakdown."

He hums, "Same."

You narrow your eyes.

He props his chin on his palm and lets his gaze settle on you like he's waiting. For what, you didn't know. But it unnerves you.

"Rough day at work?" He asks.

"Could say the same about yours."

"Oh? Did I cause you a problem?" He grins.

You curse under your breath, but you school your expression anyway, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," he says, biting back a smile, "but if you did happen to be the anonymous X user who's been tweeting about my glow and expensive cologne, I'd say your taste is... complicated."

You nearly choke on your own breath.

"I didn't say glow," you hiss, "I said smelled like money and Another 13, which is –"

"An oddly specific compliment, don't you think?" He cuts in, eyes sparkling.

You gape at him.

"You're delusional."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, "Sure, but if you were her – and I'm not saying that you are – you're kind of funny. Intense. Unhinged, if you will."

"Thanks?"

"I like it," he says, easily.

You want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

But you wipe your mouth with a napkin, inhale slowly, and grab your phone like it might shield you from the embarrassment.

"You're not funny," you say, standing up.

He stands, too, "You're blushing."

"I'm going to kill you."

"And tweet about it later?" He adds, raising a brow.

You march toward the exit. But still, behind you, you hear the soft tap of his sneakers as he calls out, low, sweet, and dangerously smug: "Don't forget to add the part where I said please."

You shove the door open.

"Park Sunghoon, you're up,"

The sound engineer barely glances your way as he gestures toward the mic stand. You stand to the side with a clipboard in hand, the checkboxes already half-filled for Jungwon and Heeseung. You're just assisting, nothing more. Yet, you've told yourself that three times now.

But then he strides in, all calm confidence and sweat-slicked neck, and your grip on the clipboard tightens.

"Hey," he grins.

"Hey," you replied, stiff.

You pretend to scan the equipment checklist, heart already quickening. His mic pack is in place, corn snaking down under the hem of his shirt. Too much movement and it'll slip. And of course, just as the engineer starts toggling the frequency, the mic shorts.

"Hold still."

"I'm always still," Sunghoon murmurs.

You crouch slightly, trying to get a grip on the cord slotted against the curve of his back, just beneath the tucked hem of his shirt. The mic pack is wedged awkwardly under his belt, and to fix it, you'll have to – you sigh, instead.

You reach around, fingers grazing his waistband.

Sunghoon tenses under your touch.

"You nervous?" He asks, voice a low murmur in the mic, only audible to you.

"Shut up,"

"Your hands are shaking," He remarks.

"I said shut up."

"So you do like touching me."

You jab the mic pack into his lower back, hard.

He flinches slightly, but you know there is a grin plastered on his face.

"You're cute when you're mean."

You move to step back, but suddenly, his hand gently, lightly, brushes your wrist. The touch is barely there, but it startles you all the same.

Your eyes snap to his. He's watching you. And he's looking at you. You pull your hand back like you've been burned, "There," you say stiffly, "fixed."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Because I think I need a little more adjusting." His voice dips, suggestive.

And you nearly drop the clipboard.

The engineer calls out from behind the glass: "Perfect, signal's steady now."

You take a full step back. Sunghoon lets you go this time.

As he takes position for his mic test, you catch your reflection in the mirror beside the recording booth. Your cheeks are flushed. His are not.

But he turns, meets your eyes once more, and then.. he winks.

You almost broke the glass.

It's been two weeks since the convenience store incident.

So, it means, it's been two weeks since Sunghoon took an interest in making your life a living hell. By being mean to you? No. Worse. By flirting with you on each set and only you could hear it.

It's two weeks of faking indifference as he winked at you during rehearsals, smirked when he passed you during call time, and offered annoyingly specific compliments like: "New hand cream?" or "Didn't peg you for a lemon girl."

Two weeks of dodging any mention of that thread on your timeline.

You thought maybe – just maybe – the storm was passing. That the account would die down again. That people would forget. You'd even muted your own username, turned off DM requests. Held off from posting anything remotely unhinged, despite the itch in your fingers every time Sunghoon so much as breathed in your direction.

You thought it was over.

Until now.

Busying yourself with a sweet, rare pocket of silence as you stood outside the styling lounge while fanning yourself with the lighting cue sheets, you pull out your phone.

And there it is. A notification.

A quote tweet from an account you don't recognise.

But first, the tweet that started it.

[yuniecore]: @.nuguhasdoubts if ure really from belift, what do u think is sunghoon's type? end all the gf stans rn

Well, you shouldn't entertain that.

But your finger hovers. There's already traction on it – likes, bookmarks, a couple dozen QRTs. And then, you stumbled upon a quote tweet from a zero-follower account with the handle "icedamericano07", a white dog icon, and no header.

[icedamericano07]: bite. brains. knows how to handle wires. doesn't take my shit. @.nughuhasdoubts, what do you think?

You freeze.

No. No way.

You read it again.

The phrasing. The cadence. The cockiness.

Knows how to handle wires? Your fucking clipboard almost slips out of your hands.

You open the profile: no name, no description, no tweets other than this one. But you know, you know, you know it's him.

[nuguhasdoubts] on Direct Message: you're actually sick in the head. [icedamericano07] on Direct Message: sick? no. curious? absolutely. you didn't answer the question. am i wrong? do you know how to handle wires? 😏

You stare at the screen like it just slapped you.

[nuguhasdoubts] on Direct Message: this is workplace harassment. i could report you. [icedamericano07] on Direct Message: and say what? that i guessed your burner account from how you described my cologne too accurately? please. you're one exhale away from writing a sonnet about my jawline.

You slam your phone face-down on the nearest surface and inhale so deeply you almost see stars. But... you can't help but admit that there's a strange thrill. Like the person you've been screaming about in anonymity knows and instead of retreating, he's daring you to keep going.

[icedamericano07] on Direct Message: just admit it. you like me. [nuguhasdoubts] on Direct Message: i tolerate your existence. barely. keep dreaming.

A pause. And then,

[icedamericano07] on Direct Message: then let me give you better material to tweet about.

Your mouth goes dry.

You slide your phone back into your back pocket like it's cursed. Then storm into the studio like your shoes are on fire. But as you pass by the mirrors lining the wall, you catch your reflection: flushed, breathless, and worse, smiling.

It happens after a brutal Friday run-through.

You're coming down from twelve straight hours of lighting cues, sound checks, and last-minute styling disasters for ENHYPEN's Walk the Line tour. The studio's thinned out. Most of the staff are gone, only a few stragglers left packing up cables and costume pieces.

You've unhooked your headset, pulled your hair down, and wiped your face with the only half-clean tissue in your bag. You're exhausted. You've barely eaten. You ache everywhere – especially your back and the sharp crook of your shoulder where the production clipboard had dug into you all day.

You slump onto the edge of the stage, legs dangling, sipping from a lukewarm water bottle. That's when he finds you.

"Thought I'd find you here," Sunghoon says, voice low and lazy as he crouches beside the platform edge.

You don't even look at him, "Congratulations."

"What's my prize?" He murmurs, inching closer until his knee brushes your thigh.

You scoff, "A slap, probably."

His laugh is warm. Daring. Annoyingly smooth.

"I'll take my chances."

You finally glance at him.

He's still in his post-rehearsal sweatpants and hoodie, hair damp from the shower, exposed skin glistening just a bit from the leftover heat of the day. He looks like he should be in a magazine ad for bad decisions and good lighting.

You shift your leg, and he doesn't.

He raises an eyebrow, "You always look this uptight?"

You bristle, "Excuse me?"

"Your shoulders," he says, reaching over and ghosting his fingers just over your back. You flinch.

"You're wound up like a tripwire."

"I've been on my feet for twelve hours."

"You're always like this," he hums.

"Maybe because someone's always provoking me."

He grins, "You're tense."

"No shit."

"Let me help."

Your head snaps toward him. He doesn't flinch, doesn't smile. His gaze is steady. Confident. Dangerous.

"Let me loosen you up," he says, low.

Your heart slams against your ribs, "You're out of your mind."

"Am I?" he murmurs, leaning in.

His palm presses to your back, hot and wide and deliberate. Not high enough to be inappropriate. Not low enough to be excusable. Just maddeningly right.

"This is a game to you."

Another shrug, "Isn't it fun?"

You blink, and yet, your breath catches. You should leave, you should get up, push him away, throw your empty water bottle at his head.

His hand slips slightly lower, "You have a choice," he says, "Say no, and I'll leave. Beg just right, and I'll help you."

Your pride should take the way out, but your body.. your body aches. You've been holding tension for weeks. In your muscles, in your bones, in every sarcastic tweet and every hissed comeback and every moment he's stood too close just to make you feel it.

You don't say anything.

And maybe that's enough.

Because Sunghoon exhales, moves behind you, and with maddening slowness, slides his hands over your shoulders. He massages, presses, kneads. Firm, skilled like he's done this before, like he's good at this.

He leans in, "Relax," he murmurs, hot breath against your neck.

"Don't get used to this," you snap.

"I wouldn't dare."

You felt his fingers work down your spine.

And that's how it happens. One moment you're letting Park Sunghoon rub the knots out of your spine in the dim stage after-hours. And now, he guides you slowly onto your back against the stage floor, cushioned by the jacket he shrugs off for you. The silence is tense, electrified, only broken by your breathing and the faint creak of the floor beneath you.

When he kneels between your legs, you suck in a breath.

He looks up, "Still with me?"

You nod.

"Words."

"Yes,"

"Good."

He peels your trousers down slowly. Painfully slowly.

Not rushing, not fumbling – like he knows what he's doing and he knows you'll let him. Like he's done this in his head a dozen times already.

You shudder when the fabric hits your ankles, your back pressed against the cool steel railing at the side of the stage, spotlights dimmed, the rest of the venue swallowed by shadow. You're hidden here, but it makes it worse. Every sound, every breath, every filthy noise is amplified in the quiet.

It's 11:47 PM, and you're letting Park Sunghoon, the man who's made your job ten times harder, the man who's cocky and smug and always, always gets under your skin, kneel for you.

You hear the soft shuffle of his hoody as he makes himself comfortable. Your underwear is still on, it's the last thing protecting your sanity. But he drags his knuckles over your thighs so softly, it makes you ache. He hooks a finger in the waistband and pauses.

"Still good?"

"...Yes," you whisper, "I'm fine."

You're really not.

You're dizzy. You're humiliated by how much you want this. How your body is trembling with anticipation even when your brain is screaming: don't you dare make this mean something.

This is Sunghoon. And this is better than admitting what's been rotting in your chest.

Because if he touches you like this, it's fine, right? It's fine because he doesn't mean it. Because he's just playing a game. Because it's him, the man you can't stand.

So, it can't hurt you.

He kisses the inside of your ankle. Featherlight. Then a little higher, again, and again. His lips trail up your leg like he's marking a path. He alternates, your left thigh, then the right – until his mouth presses to the crease where your thigh meets your hip.

You jolt.

And all the while, you keep your eyes fixed straight ahead. Because you can't look down. You don't want to see the way he watches you. You don't want to see if there's pity, or curiosity, or anything that might crack you open.

It's easier in the dark.

It's easier when you don't see him.

Because he's everything you're not. An iced, golden boy. Loved. Gorgeous, gifted, perfect. He has what you lost: center stage, applause, the confidence of someone allowed to dream.

You hate him.

You hate that you don't, really.

And your panties are soaked. He sees it. You know he sees it because he lets out a low, almost reverent sound, like he's praying under his breath as his thumb drags over the damp fabric.

"This wet for me?" He asks, genuinely curious, like he's still not convinced it's real.

Oh, you badly wanted to scream.

Then, tongue flat, he licks you over your panties. A bold, slow stripe. And had the courage to hum.

"Cute," he says, and your breath catches, "you taste desperate."

You slap a hand over your mouth. He smirks. You feel the smugness even without looking down. And then, he peels the fabric to the side. A beat of silence.

You can hear the way you're wet, the quiet obscene sound of his breath brushing your soaked folds. He exhales like it's smoke: slow and deliberate.

His thumb spreads you open.

Then, his mouth is on you.

His tongue flattens against your clit in one slow drag, then circles it with calculated precision. Fast once, then slow, then again, like he's testing what makes you twitch. Your grip on the railing tightens, and you accidentally let out a soft moan.

Hand sliding behind your thighs, anchoring you in place as he eats like he's trying to memorise how to unravel you. And god, he's good. Too fucking good.

He alternates between flicks and sucks, rolling his tongue, then locking his lips around your clit to suck gently, then harder. It's like he's experimenting, showing off.

Your hips buck, and he groans into you – on purpose – sending vibrations through your core. It's disgusting how fast your body responds.

"You like that? he asks, voice hoarse between licks, "Didn't think someone with such a smart mouth could be this quiet."

You almost choke on air.

Then his hand comes up, just one, sliding down the front of your thigh, fingertips dragging over your skin like he owns it. He presses two fingers into you slowly. Testing, stretching. Just enough to curl inside you as his tongue keeps working.

Your knees buckle, "Sunghoon–"

He freezes.

Then he drags his mouth up and looks at you, eyes dark, "Say it again."

You shake your head, humiliated, and in return, he presses his fingers deeper, making you gasp, "Sunghoon!"

His lips are back on you in a heartbeat. And then you're unraveling, thighs clenching around his head, mouth falling open in a silent cry as your orgasm crashes into you. The tension shatters. You come with a full-body tremble, your hips jerking helplessly into his mouth as he keeps licking, greedy and relentless, like he doesn't want to stop.

And, really, he doesn't.

He licks you through it and after it. Slow, gentle strokes to your oversensitive clit that makes your thighs twitch and your fingers claw at the railing for mercy.

Finally, he pulls back.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips are glistening, his cheeks are flushed.

You're panting, drunk, dazed, wrecked.

And he has the audacity to smirk.

"Thanks for the prize," he says, cockily and devastatingly handsomely.

You stare at him, wide-eyed.

He shrugs like it's no big deal, "You looked like you needed a release."

You don't speak, you can't.

Sunghoon stands, wipes the corners of his mouth again like he just finished eating lunch, and steps away. Hands in his hoodie, whistling. And then: "See you tomorrow," he says, already walking off.

And you're left there, shaking, heart in your throat, wondering what the hell just happened; and why your body still aches like he barely scratched the surface.

It's been three days.

Three whole days since Park Sunghoon dropped to his knees in the shadow of a stage that had once only echoed with your voice calling lighting cues and ruined you.

Three days since he looked up at you through his lashes with that insufferable glint in his eye, tongue dragging over your soaked underwear like you were dessert after a sold-out show. Three days since he made you come with nothing but his mouth and his smug persistence.

Three days.

And now?

Now he's normal.

No, worse than normal – he's professional.

He walks through the halls of the tour venue like he owns them, and he kind of does. The Walk the Line tour is halfway through its Asian leg, and Sunghoon is still very much the ice prince on stage. The sweet-faced visual in every behind-the-scenes clip, the golden boy who laughs in rehearsals and delivers lines with lethal charm on live broadcast.

He nods at staff like you don't exist. Like he didn't taste you and leave you shaking. Like you weren't a real thing. Just another part of his routine.

"Morning," he says when he passes you in the hallway on the second floor.

No wink. No smirk. Not even a pause.

Your breath stutters, "Hey,"

But he's already gone. No backwards glance. No tension in his shoulders. Just air between you. A silence so loud it swallows the past whole.

You even try to rationalise it.

It was just one night. Not even a whole night. It was fifteen minutes, to be exact. That's how fast he has made you come in his mouth.

He's an idol. You're a staff. You have a clipboard and a headset and no business letting anyone, least of all him, crawl between your legs when your ID is still swinging around your neck.

You try to tell yourself it didn't matter. That it was a tension release, a temporary unraveling, a misstep that the both of you would walk away from untouched.

But you are touched.

Everywhere.

Your body still aches with phantom heat. Your lips still press together when you pass the dressing room where it happened. Your stomach still twists when you catch his scent on the stairs – that stupid expensive fragrance that always clings to the collars of his hoodies.

And worse? He knows.

Because sometimes, he spares his time to look at you. Just for a second. A flicker of a glance. Like a hook, just enough to tug at the thread holding you together.

In rehearsals, when he's practicing formations. You're crouched in the tech booth, reviewing cue sheets, and then his gaze skims right over his monitor and lands on you. You freeze, he doesn't even blink.

When you hand off a chain correction for the stylists during makeup, he takes it, touches your fingers too long, and thanks you like he always does, sweetly, almost innocently.

But it's a game. And you're losing.

He doesn't even flirt anymore, not like before.

No sly whispers about your lips, no jokes about how cute you look when your clipboard shakes. He doesn't bait you during mic checks or complain about his in-ears just so you'll come closer.

He asks other people now. Always polite. Always charming.

Two months later, you're seated in the staff corner during the pre-recording run of Walk the Line in Jakarta. Coffee half-finished. Cue sheets wrinkled. A setlist spread across your lap like armor.

The world around you blurs, stylists touching up roots, dancers rushing in and out, interns double-checking security barricades.

Then, he slides into the seat across from you.

No warning.

"Hey," he says, casual, "You've been quiet."

Your breath catches. You don't meet his eyes. You fiddle with the edge of your script. "Not sulking, are you?" he adds, voice low enough for only you to hear.

You inhale sharply, you refuse to bite. But your knuckles tighten over your pen.

"I've been working."

"Didn't know work required you to ignore me."

"That implies I acknowledged you to begin with."

He lets out a soft, faux-offended gasp, "Ouch."

When he stands, crumpling his coffee cup in one hand, he adds over his shoulder: "You taste better when you're annoyed."

Your jaw goes slack, and you even barely process his retreating figure.

What does he even want at this point?

That question bugs you each day, that's why when you spot him alone on the balcony behind the rehearsal room, leaning against the railing with his hoodie up, phone in one hand, you took your chances.

You were going to ask: What was that night? Why are you still playing?

But then, he looks up and smirks. Like he knew you were coming, like you're already predictable.

"Need something?" he asks, cocking a brow up as calm as can be.

You flinch and walk away.

And that night, that night you try to draft a tweet. Something vague, sharp, cathartic. Something like your old self before all this mess. But everything comes out wrong.

Too raw, too revealing. Too much like someone who cared.

You delete it all. You stare at your screen until it fades to black.

It's pathetic, the way you look for him.

You should be reviewing lighting logs or updating the asset board for the upcoming comeback for DESIRE:UNLEASH. You should be sleeping, crying, screaming into your pillow. Anything but this.

But here you are, behind the rehearsal studio, under the sliver of moonlight that pools on the balcony concrete like spilled milk. Looking for a boy who only ever leaves you aching.

And there he is.

Like the last time, he's leaning back against the railing, hoodie on, phone in hand. Like he isn't the reason your world's been spinning sideways for weeks.

He doesn't even look surprised when he hears your steps. Of course, he knew you'd come.

You hate that he's beautiful even like this. You hate that you still want him anyway.

"Of course, you're out here."

He looks up, just his eyes, no real shift in his posture. And then – God, that smile. That goddamn smile.

"Could say the same about you."

You walk over slowly, carefully, as if daring yourself to get close might make the moment more bearable.

Well, it doesn't.

He tucks his phone away, gives you a once-over, casual and amused, "You gonna scold me? You look like you're about to yell."

Really, damn you, Park Sunghoon.

"I might," you declare, teeth clenched.

He laughs, "Should I be scared?"

You pause in front of him, cross your arms, and for a second – you don't say anything. You just look at him.

At the boy who ate you out like a secret. At the man who walked away like it never happened. At the person who sees all of you, but keeps his eyes closed.

You inhale sharply, "What do you want, Sunghoon?"

"Right now?" he drawls, pretending to think, "Maybe a drink, a nap? A massage would be great –"

"I'm serious, Sunghoon."

"So am I," he says, breezily.

"I don't get you," you begin, and your voice is steady, for now, "You flirt, you vanish, you tease, and then –"

Your breath hitches.

"Then you touch me like I'm more than that, and pretend that it didn't happen."

He doesn't say anything.

You glance sideways, searching for his face under the low hood, but he doesn’t look back. Just presses his lips together like he’s stifling a laugh.

You feel your chest tighten. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” he says, softly. “Just familiar.”

Your heart stutters.

“I want to hate you,” you confess. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, before you can dress them up in sarcasm or hide them behind a bitter joke, “I want to hate you so bad. Because you ruin everything. You ruin me.”

His brows knit, finally, but he still doesn’t interrupt.

“I hate the way you look at me like you already know what I’m thinking. I hate that I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore. I hate that you're everywhere – the damn rehearsal room, the elevator, the breakroom, the f –”

You stop.

“But mostly,” your voice lowers, cracks, “I hate that you touched me like you meant it. And then walked away like you didn’t.”

You both stand there for a long, loaded second. The wind lifts your hair. Somewhere inside, a faint bassline from another studio vibrates through the floor.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whisper. “I didn’t ask for you.”

Sunghoon turns to you, finally, slow and unreadable. He takes you in: eyes drifting from the trembling fists at your sides to the way your jaw clenches like you’re holding yourself together with glue and prayer.

And then he smirks.

“That’s not what your tweets said.”

Your chest caves.

“Fuck you,” you breathe, and it hurts. God, it hurts, how fast the ache rushes in.

“You’re really going to turn this into a joke now?” you ask, barely holding the cracks together. “You think quoting my tweets makes you clever? You think it makes this easier?”

“I think you’re the one who made it complicated,” he says.

Your eyes sting.

“And you’re the one who kept playing the game.”

Sunghoon shrugs, “You were playing too.”

“I stopped!” you yell, too loud, too suddenly. You catch yourself, voice dropping again. “I stopped when I realized none of it meant anything to you.”

He looks away.

“You want to know the worst part?” you ask, shaking now, your fists clenched so tightly your nails dig into your palms.

He doesn’t answer.

So you keep going. Because now, you can’t stop.

“I can’t even trust myself anymore. I walk into a room and you’re there and suddenly I’m stupid again. I let you do that to me and I didn’t even ask why – because I thought maybe, just maybe, it meant something. Maybe I wasn’t imagining it. Maybe you looked at me and actually saw me.”

Silence. Long. Agonizing.

Finally, he says, softly, flatly, with nothing behind it:

“I don’t do real.”

You flinch like he slapped you. And for the first time in weeks, you have nothing left to say.

No jokes. No comebacks. Just the steady collapse of something inside you, like the floor gave out.

You nod.

“Right,” you whisper, “Of course you don’t.”

He looks at you like he wants to say more. His throat works around the words. But whatever they are, he swallows them.

So, you nod again. And walk away.

And this time, he lets you. And that’s the worst part.

Because you wanted him to follow.

The days blur after that.

You don't cry. Not like you thought you would. Not in the way you expected: no gasping sobs into your pillow, no dramatic tears behind the studio monitors. No, instead, it settles in quieter. Colder. Like frost.

You keep your head down. Do your job. Show up early, leave late. Laugh when you need to. Answer questions. Avoid him.

Always, always avoid him.

You stop using the staff pantry, too many memories. Too many shared glances across the coffee machine. You choose the service elevator now. Keep a spare headset in your pocket in case someone says his name in the group channel.

Even when he's nearby, you pretend he isn’t.

And to your own disbelief, he does the same. At least, on the surface.

You catch him once – just once – watching you across the stage while Jungwon rehearses his solo. He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t look away either. It unsettles you.

The teasing is gone. The grins. The little traps. Nothing. Just a vacuum where he used to exist. You try to tell yourself this is better. You try.

But it’s 1:13 a.m. now.

And your apartment feels too quiet.

You’ve had your phone on Do Not Disturb for three hours. You haven’t checked the nuguhasdoubts account. You’ve ignored three separate texts from your production groupchat, one passive-aggressive reminder from the schedule board, and two attempts from Sunoo to FaceTime you “just because.”

There was so much more than he let on, you think. That’s the way Sunoo has always been, always ahead of everyone in ways that you couldn’t understand how he does it. Maybe, he’s empathetic – or, maybe, he’s just too nosy. But you think he’s empathetic, it’s Sunoo.

You’re curled on the couch in sweats, face bare, hair tied up, a bowl of congealed kimchi stew on your coffee table.

You try watching something: a rerun, a music show, a mukbang, but everything reminds you of him. Of them. Of the life you orbit but can never truly belong in.

Your apartment, a perk of working under HYBE, is too pristine for how worn you feel. White walls, modern fixtures, perfect view of the Han River; and none of it feels like yours. You’re just a tenant here. A ghost with a staff badge and too many secrets.

Your hand twitches toward your phone. Then away. Then toward it again.

You turn it over.

One new text.

[unknown number] 1:15 AM. i'm outside. just five minutes. if you hate me after this, i'll leave for good.

Your pulse slams through your chest.

You sit up. Walk to the door.

Your knees feel wrong. Like someone’s replaced your bones with glass.

You press the button for the camera feed. The screen flickers.

And there he is.

Sunghoon. Standing under your building’s awning. Hoodie pulled up, rain soaking the hem. His sneakers are wet. His shoulders are hunched like he's bracing for impact.

Your fingers hover over the buzzer. For a second, you tell yourself: don’t do it. He doesn’t deserve this. Then your heart says: but I still want to hear what he’ll say.

And you buzz him in.

The intercom clicks off. Your hand falls to your side. Your chest feels like it might cave in.

You leave the door open for him.

Just a crack.

The door swings open with a soft creak, rain still whispering against the windows behind you. He steps inside like he’s trespassing. Like this space might reject him.

His hoodie is soaked through, dripping water onto the hardwood. His shoes are ruined. But it’s not the mess that unsettles you — it’s the look in his eyes. He’s not smug. Not cocky. Not teasing. He looks like he’s searching for something, and terrified he won’t find it here.

You don’t say anything at first. Just toss a towel to him. Not kindly.

“Dry off before you ruin the floor.”

He catches the towel one-handed. Rubs the back of his neck, slowly, like he's trying to buy time.

You cross your arms, back rigid, “Why are you here, Sunghoon?”

“I…” His voice is cracked from the cold, “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your jaw tightens, “That’s not an answer.”

He drops the towel onto your kitchen chair. Looks at you. Really looks at you.

“I didn’t think you’d open the door.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

You fold your arms tighter, “You’re not here to make peace, are you? You’re not the type.”

“No,” he says quietly. “I’m here because I haven’t been able to sleep. Or eat. Or exist right since you walked away.”

You kept quiet.

“I can’t think straight, I can’t even rehearse properly, my mind keeps looping back to the balcony, and the look on your face like I’d just torn you open and smiled about it.”

“You did,” you whisper, voice small, sharp, “You looked me in the eye and said you don’t do real. Like I hadn’t already given you everything real about me.”

“I know,” he chokes, “And I wanted to say I didn’t mean it. But I knew I’d sound like a liar.”

“Then why come now?” you demand, shaking, “After all this? After weeks of avoiding me? After you made me feel insane for wanting you?”

Silence. Just the sound of rain ticking against your glass balcony door.

Then, with a breath:

“Because I realized I’m not scared of you breaking me,” he says, “I’m scared that you already did.. and I let you go anyway.”

Your mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

“I thought keeping it casual would protect us. That I could make you laugh, keep you distant, pretend I didn’t care,” he continues, voice rising now, “But then you stopped talking to me. You stopped smiling. You looked through me like I was no one. And I swear to god, it felt like dying.”

You take a step back, “Why now, Sunghoon? Why only when I walked away did you start realizing any of this?”

He shakes his head, “Because I was a coward.”

You flinch.

“You were brave enough to ask what this was. I just kept pretending it was easier to laugh than to admit I gave a fuck.”

Your hands are trembling, “So, now what? You show up drenched and desperate and say you care? And I’m supposed to forget how you left me behind?”

“No,” he says, “You’re supposed to tell me to leave.”

You blink.

“But you haven’t.”

His voice drops. “Which means… maybe there’s still something left.”

You hate him for being right.

He steps forward. Rain still clings to his lashes. His voice turns raw, stripped of every mask he’s worn until now.

“I don’t want anyone else reading your tweets,” he whispers. “I don’t want anyone else getting to look at you the way I have. I don’t want anyone else making you laugh the way I should’ve.”

Tears sting your eyes. You hate that, too.

He exhales, voice low, vulnerable, trembling at the edge of everything he’s ever avoided saying.

“The show’s over, Y/N. And I still want you all the same.”

A beat.

Your throat tightens, but you don’t falter.

You look him straight in the eye and whisper, “I’ve stayed for the ending credits.”

The silence in your apartment feels louder than anything else tonight. Not the hum of the air conditioning, not the rustle of city lights outside the window, not even your heartbeat, which has betrayed you too many times when it comes to him, “Then let me make it worth your while.”

And finally, fucking finally, he kisses you. Like he really did mean it. Maybe, he does. Sunghoon holds the sides of your face and kisses you deeply, trying so hard to memorise how you taste because he had done everything to deprive himself off of it. Each kiss translated into: fuck, I’ve always wanted to kiss you since the very first tweet.

You gasped against his lips, letting out a small noise of shock at how intense he is just from kissing you. He walks further, pushing you to the couch before he hovers over you and cup your cheeks as he looks into your eyes, kissing the tip of your nose before he kisses you again, softly, this time. Sunghoon slots himself in between your legs, holding your hand as he kisses the inside of your palm before diving to your jaw, leaving little kisses to his wake as he leans down and to suck on your jaw, leaving marks of ownership as if he’s afraid anyone had the guts to claim you.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin before toying with the straps of your night gown, flicking it against your skin so faint you almost missed the snap of the fabric against your skin, “I’m really sorry,” he whispers as he pulls your tank top to pool above your breasts, breathing at how he finally had the chance to have you like this: under him, beautiful, vulnerable – and it all boils down to him on how he should win you, again. In the charm that only a Park Sunghoon has.

His mouth envelops around the bud of your nipple, moaning hard at how he tastes the expanse of your skin. He shifts his weight down, focuses on sucking your nipple as his eyes flicker over to you, making sure you’re with him as he finally proves himself to you as he alternates between each nipple.

Sunghoon travels to the valley of your breasts, tracing the tip of his nose all throughout the flushed skin. He kisses down a trail softly to your stomach, kissing over the expanse of it, each stretch mark, each mole that you didn’t even know existed there. He travels down and became face to face with your pulsating core. He breaths out, a familiar sight right before him, but this time, he’s not hiding anymore.

“Shit,” you breathe out as you feel his breath fanning over your core. He pokes his tongue on the wet patch that has formed on your underwear, groaning as if he’s tasting you again for the first time. He chuckles when he meets your heated gaze, “Relax,” he says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better,” and he chuckles at your breathy threat.

He hums before licking a stripe over your clothed core, giving you what you want but not exactly the way you want it. It was a while of teasing you, mixing his saliva with the wetness that is evident over the cotton of your panties. And after a while, Sunghoon pulls it down before immediately diving into your clit.

You squeal and immediately tighten your thighs around his face, holding on his hair tightly as he alternated on flicking his tongue against your clit and sucking it hard that whenever he lets it go, a pop is evident between your close bodies. He ate you out like he wanted to prove something, that him in love and eating you out was better than the last time he did so, but evidently in lust. And he doesn’t slide a finger inside you. He focuses his tongue and mouth in all the places you needed him.

“Bedroom,” you try to say as you tap his shoulder, “please,” you added.

Sunghoon stopped and grinned at you before scooping you with his arms and carry you bridal style. Both of your heartbeats as loud as it could be, thumping against the vulnerable expanse of your chest. He lays you down softly on your bed with a thump, and it’s almost as if Sunghoon is met with a sudden rush of urgency, he strips himself off his clothes before leaning down again to kiss you.

He grinds his crotch against yours, hissing as his shaft feel the wetness from your core smearing all over him. He presses his forehead on yours as he stayed that way for a deadly, long time. Just his shaft slipping in between your hungry folds, edging the both of you the way you both have played this game for so long. You whimper whenever you feel his tip grazing your hole just a tad, but lose it whenever you feel the drag of it against your clit.

“Please,” you beg again, “I need you, Hoon.”

“Goddamn,” Sunghoon mutters, as if bracing himself. He perches up, arms on either side of your head before lining his tip against your already throbbing entrance. He pokes the tip of his dick against it, letting out a broken moan as he feels how wet you are. And he eases himself in – too slippery, he thinks – and you’re comfortable just right. You hug his dick snugly but fit him inside easily, it was as if it was a perfect fit.

“Such a perfect pussy for me,” he groans, “I fit you so well, Y/N,”

He drags each thrust slowly, making you want to feel each vein, each drag, how your walls pulsate around his big dick that even with little movement, bullies your cervix in such a delicious way. Each thrust has his lips hanging over yours, and a small part of you wishes he kisses you while he does, but with each hard thrusts, he is jutted forward, and his lips only graze yours.

“Park Sunghoon,” you called out, “kiss me.”

And his eyes meet yours, before breaking out into a grin and obliges you. This kiss was slow, taking its time. Teeth clashing here and there, tongues desperate to feel each muscle, breaths exchanged in heavy and deep heaves, each meant a confession heavier than the last one. God, amidst all miscommunication and the game you willingly played with him, Sunghoon was a fit candidate to what you know is love.

“I love you,” Sunghoon stutters as his thrust increased, beating you to a love confession that you had unwillingly placed upon the category of competition on who gets to say it first.

Well, you’re glad he said it first.

You smiled before reaching out to wrap your arms around him before cupping the side of his face, and he leans in, kissing the inside of your palm again with his free hand wrapping around the circumference of your wrist, “You idiot,” you laugh, and he does, too, “I love you, too.”

And then you’re coming, climax crashing into you before you realise that you are coming undone around him. This makes him groan around you, chasing his orgasm, and then: “Shit, can I come inside?”

You laugh at him seeking approval, but you nod, anyway. And he comes inside you, pulling you up in a hug, as if he needed your body against him to ground himself in the intensity, and Sunghoon shudders at each emotion flowing out of him. His lips busying itself kissing whatever skin near to his mouth, but his eyes are screwed shut as he lets out breathy exhales, trying so hard not to cry but he does.

Tears staining your back and his sniffles fill the room and you pull him away to cup his cheeks, “Sunghoon,” you call him softly.

“I’m sorry, I love you, I fucking do,” he says softly, looking into your eyes, “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

A smile breaks out from your lips, “You’re goddamn cheesy.”

“Only for you,” he chuckles.

And you smile at him as if you placed all the past behind.

Sure, you first thought how crazy it is that everything started with just one harmless thread about him being the man everyone desired to be. You first thought how this is a mistake, how everything was a mistake. That your world didn’t belong in his, because his perfection didn’t deserve an ounce of taint from your life, but you’ve come to realise that Sunghoon is as human as you are.

He was a perfectionist, true, but he was a coward all the same. Masking his imperfection in his continuous strive to become perfect, and this is one of the times that he let himself be imperfect to have the one thing he has deprived himself of: love.

As the night when on, legs tangled with each other as he slept beside you, his mask of indifference and cockiness finally shed off to make you see the boy who only wanted to be perfect to feel the love he thinks he deserve. You brush his hair off his forehead, and place a kiss on his forehead, letting the warmth dissipate.

Cut scene, cut the chase. The curtains are drawn down, the show is over.

But your story had only begun. With him.

END. ©️ acciojaeyun, 2025.

[roturo]

HERE ME OUT

Toji, Gojo, Megumi (choose one, i dont mind) realize spanking isnt doing much for a punishment anymore (youre enjoying it too much) so they come up with other ideas

ex. watching you get fucked by a fuck machine in a mirror while u cum over n over begging for the real thing, seeing how many sex toys you can get away with wearing in public, switching between making you cum over n over to not letting you cum every hour or something ALL NIGHT, etc

BRAT - JJK MEN

warnings: smut, overstimulation, semi-public sex, edging, ice cube play, cunnilingus, slapping, pussy slapping, degradation, spanking, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, dumbification, sub-space, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, bondage, bdsm, handcuffing, use of vibrator, throat bump, tummy bump (idk how it's called), bratty reader, objectification, jealousy, mirror sex, breeding, unprotected sex, penis in vagina, there's more warnings but idk.

Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro & Sukuna.

Gojo Satoru

He first realized spanking you as a punishment isn’t working when your bratty remarks started becoming more usual after 3 or 4 spanks, you moaned at the feeling and teased him even more for him to do it again. 

To say he’s angry at this is an understatement, because he hates brats. Hates not having control, and your behavior being the last drop of breaking was all he needed to give you a real punishment.

You thought he was being mean? Oh no, he was being nice right now.

You pull on his white locks and the only answer you receive is a disapproval grunt from him. You sob, so overwhelmed and tired, but you can't deny how good his tongue feels on your naked core.

The feeling of his tongue abusing your overstimulated hole had you feeling dizzy, but the vibratory he had on his hand teasing your swollen nub made the pleasure more unbearable than before. 

He already got two orgasms out of you, one with his fingers patting gently your sweet spot and the other by sucking avidly on your clit while he fingered you and used the vibratory to tease your other hole. You don't remember which one came first and maybe they both happened at the same time. You don't really know.

And the worst thing of all? You were in a public space. 

You never noticed he brought a vibrator, it's like he knew you were looking for this, for a punishment, but he also knows you don’t see spanking as a punishment anymore, so he had a change of plans.

You were a little bit too flirty with Nanami tonight, he couldn’t take it, so when he saw you going to the restroom he didn’t care it seemed so obvious, he followed you behind.

Your pleas for him to stop went to deaf ears, not taking care in the world and not having any hint of stopping this.

You already had your makeup messed up, you’re sure about that, tears coming out your eyes, smudged lipstick, messy hair, he made sure for everyone to know he fucked the soul out of you. Making visible hickeys on your neck, he wanted to humiliate you.

And if like that wasn’t enough, once he finished he left the vibratory inside of you, so when the both of you walked out, not only everyone knew you two fucked at the restroom, but they’ll know you’re struggling to even talk or walk.

“Ah-ah, you acted like a bitch, i’ll treat you like one.”

Geto Suguru

This man is RUTHLESS. He would tie up your arms and legs on the bed so you can’t move. Using an ice cube toy tease your body, saying is “what you deserve for being too fucking horny all the time” 

The vibrator inside of you wouldn’t stop at any moment, making you come with no break, his tongue playing with your nipples, licking your tummy while going down on you till he found your clit. Grabbing another ice cube and tracing near your cunt.

He would spit on you or slap your pussy every time you told him to stop, making you even a messier moaning mess. His words would be hard too, not accepting any type of bratty behavior coming out of you, it’s what you earned.

He was angry, he couldn’t contain watching you dance with another man, knowing he was right there. You aren’t anything serious, yet, but he makes sure for everyone to know you’re his.

You felt dizzy, coming into subspace once he finished giving you your last orgasm of the night. Needing some time more to adapt to your surroundings. He made sure to cum in your stomach once he felt he couldn’t contain it anymore, and that’s when he knew he had to stop.

Because this man has self-control, he wanted to prove a point and he made sure of doing it. Treating you like a slut. Fucking you like a slut.  You’re no one’s slut but his.

Toji Fushiguro

He’s the opposite of Geto, he’ll make sure to have all the pleasure for himself and just him.

You were about to cum? too bad, because he’s the one coming, not you. He would even edge himself just to make sure you don’t come. Using you like a fucking toy in front of his mirror, pinching your nipples and biting your shoulders.

Your pussy would be so full of him you could even feel a small bump in your tummy, filling you up with his cum, the slickness of it making it easier for him to thrust into you.

Every time he touched your g-spot with his cock, you were almost screaming, begging for release. Every time you close your eyes he would grab you by the chin, threaten to not let you cum for 30 minutes more if you close them again.

Wetting his fingers with your liquids and mostly his cum just to insert them in your mouth. “You want to feel that too, huh? You want to taste yourself too?”

Nodding your head like you could, trying to say yes but every time you opened up your mouth a moan came out of it, just being able to call his name and little ‘please’

But he just laughed at how fucked up you look right now, continuing thrusting into you, one of his arms wrapping around your waist while the other one grabs you by your throat, making sure you’re looking at the two of you in the mirror.

Depending on how good you behave, he’ll decide if he’ll let you cum or not. You might spend the whole night without coming until the next time both of you have sex, thrusting you to make this punishment again if you cum without him.

Megumi Fushiguro (My man, my husband, my boyfriend)

He wouldn’t show he was angry at you, noticing you were enjoying the slaps on your ass, he just suddenly stopped. Analyzing what he should do.

Your smirk disappeared once you heard the silence, not feeling his hands on your ass. Looking through your shoulder, you found a blank face megumi looking at you

You were laying down on his lap and the couch, your ass displayed for him while he manhandled you. You were about to ask what’s wrong until he pulled you by the hair looking at your face before he switched positions, you’re now sitting on his lap.

With his cursed energy, some snakes came from the shadows and made sure he grabbed you by the wrists, putting them on your back so the snakes could simulate a handcuff.

Megumi is a silent man.

But this silence felt really different from the others, his dark blue orbs seemed almost black, his gaze showing no emotion other than seriousness.

He grabbed you by the armpits and positioned you on the floor, kneeled in front of him, while you watched him unbuckle his pants.

Lowering down enough his pants and boxers so his cock was displayed, pinkish tip with a small pearl coming out of his tip, a vein coming from the base on the left side, and slightly curved.

“Open your dirty mouth slut.” 

You did as he said, and he wasted no time in inserting his cock inside of you, giving you and your poor throat no time to adjust while he bobbed your head.

Your nose touching his pelvic bone, his free hand traveled down your face until he felt your throat, a small bump appearing and disappearing each time he thrusted inside of you.

A smirk appeared on his face while he groaned and left small whimpers at the pleasure of using you like a cum dump.

He has a lot of stamina, he doesn’t give up for nothing, not on a fight, not on smacking your bratty face out of your sight.

He felt that tingly feeling on his stomach, ready to cum, with just some more thrusts he dumped strips of cum inside your mouth.

You coughed a little, sore throat, trying to regain your posture when his cock left your mouth, it was still rock hard.

“Don’t have big hopes i’m going to fuck your pussy, i’ll continue fucking your mouth till you can’t even speak.”

Sukuna.

He has you sitting on his lap while he’s on his throne. Different mouths coming out of his body, one on his pelvic bone playing with your nub while he bounces you on both of his cocks. Feeling so full of him, you swear you couldn’t even talk, moans and whimpers only coming out of you.

His head was resting in one of his hands, while two of them were gripping your tits with a mouth on them while they sucked your nipples.

“You fucking brat.”

He would sometimes groan everytime your cunt clenched around his cock, or when he felt one of your holes a little bit too tight.

He had you cumming for him for 5 times now, not stopping his movements any time soon, bouncing you up and down on his cocks while he admired your body and face.

Tears staining your blushed cheeks, sweat covering your whole body, purple marks adorning your body and a bite on your shoulder from the first time he came.  Your sore and sensitive nipples bouncing in front of him, little begs and pleads coming out of you.

And all because you didn’t want to take your punishment like a good girl and challenged him with your bratty behavior.

You looked fucked up, not any kind of thinking behind your eyes, not even words to say, you were completely defenseless, used like a toy.

“If only you behaved like a good girl I would treat you like one. But right now you’re just my little whore to play with. I can stay here all night watching you lose your sanity and body control to me.”

[the-acid-pear]

today's prompts are spiders and self insert so i've been thinking of drawing nembone and a uh, bunger. but Im still thinking around the uh. ? i cant remember the word HELP the fucking COMPOSITION there.

[harukyuu2]

hello!! May I request a fic about wind breaker (including Togame jo) scenario when they "accidentally" walk in on you while you're changing? Thank you!!!!!!!!

-‘๑’-⇢ ˗ˏˋ Woah! Sorryyy! - wbk boys seeing you change:࿐ྂ-‘๑’- !! - Haruka, Suo, Togame and Endo !! (Endo's part is pretty suggestive, implied fem!reader in some cases, small revision only :p)

"Hey, where do you have your... FUCK, DAMN—" ♡ Boy smashed your door closed without even saying sorry, too much embarassment— he cant handle it! You didnt even notice him until he smashed the door, it was like a split second interaction! ♡ You never saw him SOOO red, like— he always blushes! But today?? You can almost see smoke coming out of his head, his red has the saturation on a 100% ♡ His brain isnt working, he cant even form a sentence to you or even look you in the eyes, he feels like he's gonna explode if he does. ♡ If he didnt run out of your house by now, you can reassure him its fine, but youre gonna get embarassed mumbles until he's actually able to think without that image in his head. ♡ At the end of the day, with a looot and i mean A LOT of reassureance and patience for his blush to go down, you'll get your usual nervous boyfriend again, maybe even an apology! ♡ Still, that image of you stayed in his head for more time than necessary— and he probably felt guilty, but also youre too pretty in his eyes! He isnt sure how he got you still.

"...You know im— im sorry or whatever for...fuck, you know! not knocking or somethin'...whatever, damn—"

"Sweetie, are you ready to left alrea— Oh. Sorry!" ♡ He's actually SO CALM, he stands like "🧍‍♂️" checking on you a quick second before leaving politely, you cant even hear him walking, the only sound in the room is his apology AND THATS IT. ♡ Tbh, its surprising you catched him in a situation like that. Suo, as a boyfriend, know everything you need or what youre doing, or what youre about to do...His mind is literally connected to yours— so him thinking you were ready and it was wrong? First time you caught him out of guard. ♡ He stares at you. More than he usually does. You could catch him staring at you and he wouldnt look away! His eyes are literally glued to you (They were already, but now more than always) ♡ Now, Suo can be mature— like reaally mature, but still he's a teenager! So he feels a little embarassed, he's just good at hidding it. Not lying, the image doesnt leave his mind and he feels really inmature for it! ♡ He doesnt know how to bring the topic without making you uncomfortable, but he needs to. So, at night, when youre about to fall asleep, pretty dozed off from reality, he finally turns to cup your cheek and sweetly murmurs— whether you remember it or not, well... he's just going to play it silly in the morning.

"That color and laces looked good on you, darling. Sweet dreams, sorry for not knocking."

"Babe, take your time, but just so you dont scold me later, fireworks start at— ...uh, sorry. Uhh, that color looks good on you! I mean, sheesh, alright— im leaving, im leaving..." ♡ SLOW ASS TURTLE. Talks with you without noticing youre changing. Another man who just stands like "🧍‍♂️" while looking at you for a whole ten seconds and he tries to fix it with compliments just for you to have to push him outside of the bedroom ♡ He hums outside of your room, wondering if he made you uncomfortable or something, relationships are something new for him too— so he has zero idea how to handle this situation at first. ♡ He wont lie that he finded you pretty, thats a normal thing! Well, he guesses...so he wont see complimenting you on it as a bad a thing, but he does understand that not knocking was wrong (and not moving quickly too) ♡ Being on his side was silent for a moment before he leaved a sigh, scratched his neck before ruffling your hair and apologized in a cute way— he learned to talk a lot better after his fight with Haruka and always expresses himself honestly with you.

"'m sorry im just saying this now, i should had knocked...anyways, you looked pretty though...i mean it! You know i love you, right?"

"Babyyyy...Hurry up so we can go on a walk already! do you want to— DAAAMNN, that one looks good on you! is that the one i gived you money to buy? i should buy you another, but in blue and— Dont push meeee...!" ♡ Clingy, whining, sassy ASSSS...He wont leave that room until you try to push him like a good damn minute. Worst of all? While you push him out of the bedroom, he would make sassy remarks of other colors you could try that would look better with a damn big grin in his face. ♡ Apologizing? Nah, he's more into the old good "teasing my girlfriend until she feels the urge to beat me!!", íf you two went to the shopping...yeah, probably points out a store that sells them only to annoy you more. ♡ Follows you around even if youre mad or something, complimenting you on the way and even if he feels playful,(Literally everyday) will squeeze your waist just to scare you and finally get your attention directed to his face. ♡ Once you two are back to your house, he's teasingly tracing the contour of your bra through your shirt, holding you close and not letting his eyes fall from yours, he tempts you through them only to finally squeeze you into an hug since he's a romantic one, of course..!

"Im not going to apologize for finding you pretty, babe. Were not in a backwards world, arent we? So stop frowning and i'll spoil you in more gifts!"

I got confused and i made headcanons D: But i'll probably make a scenario for Togame if you rlly want it !!

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

[tannieastrology]

Composite Observations

💔 Ive noticed that alot of long term couples have asteroid briede conjunct the sun which makes sense because its literally the asteroid of marriage and union.

💔 Cancer rising couples will find it very hard to leave each other even when they arent good for each other. From the moment these two meet they feel so comfortable with each other and will feel like "home". They are each others comfort people but ive often noticed that these relationships tend to stagnate especially if the rest of the chart has complicated placements. They are also very moody around each other lmfao. The fights get intense and almost "domestic" which is why its important to be careful w cancer placements because codependancy can become an issue.

💔Gemini Rising couples are so cute and fun omg. So flirty and when youre near them you wont even feel like youre third wheeling. The fun couple.

💔 Libra Rising/ Venus in 1st house omg literally everybody shipped us together. Everyone always assumed we liked each other(which i did but he didnt) and told us we had such good chemistry. We looked really good next to each other but it was hard getting close to him beyond that. Our Venus was in libra first house but it squared our 7th house ruler mars in the 10th house, so we argued alot since the day we met. Our arguements were public and everyone had an opinion but they also all shipped us at the same time lmfao. If you do tarot you would know that justice is represented by Libra so our entire friendship had themes of "justice" in it. Our disagreements sometimes became very bitter.

💔 About 10th house mars, im starting to not like this placement ngl. I definitely feel like in this house it acts more as a malefic. There will be power struggles and difficulties seeing eye to eye if AFFLICTED. I think if its not afflicted then maybe you can push each other to grow together in yalls career but for the person I had this with it was our 7th house ruler and made multiple squares in the chart. Literally everybody had an opinion in our business and also like i said the fights were intense. The thing is we were immature kids. Im sure if we were adults it wouldnt have been that bad and we wouldnt have acted out of ego but it was hard seeing beyond it sometimes. Now as im older I feel like im starting to really admire how talented he is( I always have) but in a way now where I want to support him instead of trying to piss him off lol. Another thing is when Mars transited over our composite 10th house we had a huge fight and everyone at school knew it. I cut him off.

💔 Speaking of transits yall pleaseee look at them for the composite chart they are so so so accurate. They have predicted almost every issue I had with him. Another thing I noticed was if you set the transit for January 1st of that year it will predict the themes between u and that person off the composite transits. Every year this had been so accurate as to what happened and its worked for multiple couples I observed. For example when venus and mars was transit on the 5th house during new years the couple started dating that year. It acts as a solar return.

💔 Alot of long term couples have sun in 4th house composite and they are actually healthy.

💔 I love 11th house placements in the composite like yall will just naturally get along so well. This is the true "crush" feeling you would get sometimes more so than the 5th house but instead yall will have a friend dynamic. Just be careful not to get friendzoned LMFAO

💔 8th house placements are not for the weak and having it in the composite can be more complicated than having it in synastry. You were meant to meet this person because both of yall need to go through a psychological change through a partnership of some kind. I dont think 8th house placements are toxic if people are self aware but theres not a lot of people out there who are mature like that at a young age.

💔 Good luck if you have saturn in 12th house with someone. Yall will constantly have issues that neither of yall will understand how to fix. Boundries will be nonexistant and honestly it will be hard to form a partnership. This is IF yall hide from each other and do not communicate. You need to be vulnerable with each other. This is one of the biggest indicaters of a karmic partnership and its painful. Theres always this feeling of something feeling off and hurt in the back of your mind even when something isnt wrong. Ive seen from astrologers that saturn feels comfortable in this house and saturn here represents longevity but the benefits of this placement will not come through until yall go through some serious struggle.

💔 Chiron conjunct the mc will expose all of yalls pain to the public. A couple that had this through aries chiron transit the MC made it known eventually that they become toxic and everyone just thought of them as the couple that fights and hurts each other alot. They also broke up near this time.

💔 Ive noticed that the MC represents the status of the relationship. Having jupiter transit the MC made the couple have good luck and were trying to get together romantically. They also had asteroid anteros(god of requited/mutual love) conjunct jupiter in 10th house as a transit and EVERYONE was talking about them at school and were trying to get the two together.

💔 Lowkey I feel like davison charts(which can be read exactly like a composite) are even more accurate than composite charts. Not to say composites arent accurate but when it comes down to showing the overall long term duration of the couple I found that davisons are more accurate.

💔 If yall have venus square saturn just pack it up lmfao the universe do NOT want yall together and I often see couples trying to work it out but in the long term they often arent compatible. They force it and try to go against the grain and it never works out.

💔 I hate seeing jupiter squares in composites yalls values will be so difficult to align

💔 Jupiter in the 5th house is such a good place for romance. Ive also heard of couples doing "it" very early on in the relationship and most of them had this placement.

Hope Yall Enjoyed💋

[pipermcleanswife]

i need domestic fluff with mac 😭 like bedtime routine, watching movies together, having game nights on the pc together im so down bad for this computer i will take anything <3 ty

HI HII!!! OH MY DOUBLE GOSH. I LOVED THIS REQUEST! I HAD LIKE A GAZILLION IDEAS SO I JUST DECIDED TO CRAM THEM INTO HEADCANNONS (plus i was looking for a reason to spread more of my mac propaganda) I HOPE THATS ALRIGHTY!!💗💗Now, MOST of these headcannons are for once they are realized!! I've also included some other just random blurbs i thought of while writing these out! I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings? Mac being a cutie pie

‼️Gender neutral reader‼️

• Once mac is realized they surprisingly dont change much. Its very hard for them to adapt to having human needs but you help them. Things get easier for the both of you.

• Im gonna be so fr, they are lowkey SO jealous if you decide you want to buy a new computer once they are realized. They are just so scared you wont need or want their help anymore.

• Mac is still a MAJOR nerd. Im serious. They get so geeked out to play new games with you, or read about some new tech advancements. I hope you've upgraded your vocabulary because you ARE getting an earful that you may or may not understand.

• Mac would help you find a job that keeps you at home so that they can be around you and you can teach them about life and stuff. If you cant find one though, they literally wait ALL day for you, calls you multiple times a day. Your breaks are usually spent texting and sharing stupid pictures with them.

• Mac LOVES to help with literally anything. It helps them reassure themselves that you want them around, that they ARE enough for you

• Mac is one of the most supportive people ever. They look at you like you hung the moon and stars. They ADORE when you show off a new outfit you bought and maybe some other purchases…

• Another favorite pastime is taking baths together, they just like the idea of sitting in your lap and having their hair washed.

• They love to play games with you, it's just so wonderful to have something like that with you. They weren't sure they would like it at first, BUT they love playing little world building games like Minecraft or animal crossing with you. I also feel it in my soul that they like the Hades games and probably deltarune

• Obviously they are still a tech nerd and since they can't just not sleep anymore you have to remind them, I'm so serious, they will not even recognize the exhaustion unless you come and get them and take them to bed

• Speaking of beds and cuddling. They ADORE to cuddle. I don't think they have a favorite way to cuddle because they just love being with you. They do like to spoon a lot and lay on top of you though!

• nighttime routines are really nice and calm. (Let's pretend you are strong enough to carry Mac up the stairs, let's be real though that twink can't possibly weigh more than 5 apples) Mac LOVES to help you comb through your hair or read something with you to get nice and tired, they can also think of... alternative....methods, they do tend to be quite creative in their options... Mac loves to help you wipe off your makeup (if you wear any) and they really like to rub your shoulders and whisper you some sweet words. They feel like you don't get the praise you deserve and make sure that you fall asleep knowing that they love you so much.

• Like I said in my last post about mac, They are so affectionate. LOVES HAND HOLDING. It's a requirement. No options

• Mac is actually really good about reminding you to do things, but forgets their own stuff. Like if you need to charge your phone but you forgot they'll be like “you need to charge your phone babes” and their phones dead. Deader than any straight white man who says, “school dosent matter” entrepreneur dreams.

• Honestly genuinely a wonderful partner. Plans fun dates for you two to go on every other week because they understand that it might could overwhelm you a little bit and you work hard, you would probably rather have a nice relaxation week. and on the weeks you dont have a date you guys have a movie or game night. Also, you two make dinner together frequently, they really like to help in the kitchen, big fan of baking.

• They totally have planned dates based on the fanfiction that you've read.

• Sometimes they feel incomplete not knowing everything you're searching up or browsing, not in a creepy way, it's just that was their purpose before you realized them, that was what they spent years doing, so sometimes they like to lean over and peer at whatever you're doing. And maybe they just so happen stalk your socials a little bit.

• They really like matcha and coffee, I am so sure of this. They were not sure they would like it. They get this strawberry matcha drink with sweet foam on top, and they share it with you everytime because they love sharing with you.

• That's another thing, Mac loves to share. Cold? “Well, I'm warm enough, take my jacket, win for both of us because you'll be warm and I get to see you look cute in my stuff.” (they are FREEZING, but their CPU- I mean, their heart just feels so warm around you that they hardly notice) Thirsty? “Here, you can have some of mine, lovely.” Hungry? “Aww babes, it's a good thing I'm coincidentally eating a food you really like!” (they got it because they KNEW they were going to give you some)

• Mac just loves you and is so happy that you're in their life.

Random headcannons because I can.

🖥️- yk those goofy stickers you have on the back of your MacBook? Those funny stickers are definitely on mac too. All over their back. Much like fantina except theirs are like tattoos until you remove them. But they disappear in their realized form. Which honestly makes them sad.

🖥️- macs glasses are blue light and they are not afraid to offer them to you when they can tell you're gonna be working overtime on Ao3

🖥️- they LOVE to smell nice. I'm so fr. Bath and body works for-lifer. ESPECIALLY a fan of that aromatherapy line they have. Will ask you what your fav scent is and then buy it so you snuggle up with them more.

“Hey baby, which one of these do you like” they say holding out two bottles of some type of soap. After taking a quick sniff of both you ultimately decided on the one in their right hand. “Hmmm, the one on the right is my fav” you say with a small hum. They made their purchase so fast you'd barley even finished picking out the rest of your things! (Speaking of which, if you've never tried the eucalyptus bath and body works shower steamer, YOU SHOULD, oh my double goodness, it is DIVINE)

🖥️- in the most loving way, Mac is a smartass. They are aware of this. They don't mean it in a malicious way. They just love to teach and inform you of things! It's the way your eyes light up and process the information, and don't even get them started on the fact that you sit there and let them explain for as long as they want, even if they drag on the most elementary of topics

🖥️- terrible immune system, horrible. Seasonal allergies kick their ass.

🖥️- we all know this FREAK makes whatever they can sensual and flirty, you can be chilling on your phone while cuddling on the couch with them and they'll whisper something so devious in your ear you actually throw the damn phone

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PHEW... That was a lot. Kinda proofread, kinda didn't, I KNOW, YOU CAN BOO ME IN THE COMMENTS. I'm SOOO sorry this didn't get out sooner. life is crazy, right?? I hope you guys enjoyed this tasty meal I cooked up for y'all. Love ya, songbirds!

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he starts, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you sweetly as he slides in some more, your walls wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so good for me."

just a few strokes after, he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement for him to keep going. His palms make their way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Just discovered you and love your writing! Was hoping to request something for when you have the time or desire to write 😊

Could you please do a Slytherin boy being betrothed to the reader where they know about each other and are in the same friend group but they never want to outright acknowledge it. They both secretly like each other but try to date other people because they dont want to be forced into being together.

Maybe someone gets too jealous and mad and then things escalate 😋

Thank you for considering 🥰🤩

I was having a hard time choosing which boy, so I hope Draco works. If not, send me another request! <3

Possessive

Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing

18+ Minors DNI!

The Malfoys and your parents had arranged for you and Draco to get married after you guys graduate. You never hated Draco and he never hated you, but the thought of being forced into a marriage with someone was something that pissed you off.

You both were friends and that never did change after the arrangement, even if it did get a little awkward. It made your friend group a little weird for a bit since they all knew, but no one dared to speak about it since both you and Draco threatened them if they mentioned it again.

Normally, Draco wouldn’t go against his parents, but having his future already decided for him made him start rebelling. Even you started to as well. You both would date, makeout, hookup with other people, trying to ignore the other person. You knew you were going to be married anyways eventually, why not experience other people before that?

But, deep down, both of you liked each other. As much as Draco didn’t like the idea of his future being controlled, he really did love that it was going to be with you. And same with you, you were happy you were going to be with him, you were just mad at your parents for forcing this onto you.

Even though he was trying to ignore you and have fun with other people, he was really falling harder for you. The way you’d smile and laugh when hanging out together with all your friends. Your jokes. Your personality.

Something snapped in him one day when he saw a guy hitting on you at one of the Slytherin parties. He tried pushing the jealousy away. You were his fiance, after all. He’d have you in the long run. But then the guy started touching you. A hand on your waist. He was going to cut his hand off.

Before he even realized it, he was walking towards you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the guy.

“What the fuck?” You asked Draco as he was dragging you away, guiding you to his dorm. “Let go, Draco!”

“No.” He said coldly. He brought you in his room, closing the door.

“What the fuck was that about?” You yelled, pulling your arm out of his grip.

“You can’t do that! You’re fucking mine!” Draco said angrily.

“You’ve been dating and hooking up with other people, too. You can’t say that to me!” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“You’re going to be my fucking wife!” Draco said as he grabbed the hair on the back of your head possessively, making sure you looked up at him. “Not his. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”

“That’s not fair, Draco.” You said calmly, looking into his eyes. “You’ve been doing the same.”

“I’m done with them. I don’t want them anymore. I want you.” He matched your calmness, but kept his grip on your hair.

“You can’t just do that, Draco. I’ll be yours in the future, let me have my fun.”

“I can give you your fun, though.” He used his hand in your hair to tilt your head back further, moving his head to start pressing kisses to your neck. “Let me show you. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone until the wedding.” 

“I…” You were struggling, partially from hesitation, not knowing if you should. The other part was because of the way he was kissing your neck and the hand in your hair.

“Come on, darling. Just once.” He whispered.

“Fine.” You agreed, uncrossing your arms.

He didn’t say anything, but moved his hands to pick you up and dropped you on the bed with him hovering over you. He spent a few moments just running his hands over you, like he was happy to finally have you all to himself, even for just a little bit.

“I'm gonna make sure you want no one else but me now.” He said as he started to undress you. “So fucking stunning.” He ran his hands all over you again once he got you naked. He wanted to worship you, kiss, lick, bite, touch all over you.

But he had to prove a point, he needed to show you who you belong to. And he really needed to feel you.

He got undressed as well, letting you rake your eyes over him. God, he loved seeing your eyes running over his body.

He leaned back down to start kissing you. His hands ran down your body again, giving your breasts a good squeeze before continuing its path down. He pulled away and moved to lay down beside you, moving you so your pussy was right above his face and you faced towards his lower half. He didn't waste any time before licking your cunt, moaning at the taste. You started moaning above him as you placed your hands down on his chest for support. He urged you to lean further down with a gentle hand on your back. You knew what he was going for and leaned down, wrapping a hand around his dick before spitting on cock then taking him in your mouth.

You both were pleasing each other with your mouths. His tongue alternating between licking at your clit and fucking your hole while you bobbed your head up and down his dick. Your moans were muffled by his cock as he moaned into your pussy. His mouth on you was so distracting, even his hands grabbing your ass were drawing your attention. Your movements were faltering and he started thrusting up into your mouth, making you gag on his cock.

“Come on, darling. I know you can do better than that.” He said as he gave your ass a spank.

You moaned and tried focusing back on sucking him off.

“That's my girl. Don't stop.” He said before putting his mouth back on your pussy.

He was still helping by thrusting into your mouth, it’s like he wanted to hear you gagging and moaning around him. His mouth continued its attack on your pussy, licking and sucking and prodding at your hole. It was getting distracting again. Draco noticed and flipped you to lay beside him, quickly settling back between your legs as he continued licking at your clit. He pushed two fingers inside you, too, looking up at you to watch your face.

“My mouth too distracting for you, love?” He teased before sucking on your clit.

Your hands went to his hair, arching into his mouth. “Shit! Yes!” You answered with an eager nod.

“And you wanted to have fun with someone else tonight.” He said after he let go of your clit. He continued licking and sucking, hearing all your pretty moans. 

He had you cumming on his mouth and fingers like he knew your body perfectly already. You cried out his name as you trembled, gripping his hair tightly. He helped you ride it out, using his free hand to rub your thigh.

He pulled off of you and flipped you over, pushing on your back gently to get you to lean down into the pillows.

“You're so gorgeous. I can't believe you were letting other people but me touch you, angel.” He said softly, but you could feel his anger and jealousy seething from him.

He pushed into you, definitely not as gently as his voice. You yelped at the intrusion before moaning at how nice his dick felt in you. He barely gave you a moment to adjust before he was thrusting in you. His cock was hitting deep in you, making you grip at the sheets below you as you moaned.

“Draco.” You moaned his name. “So deep. Fuck.”

“Yeah? Never had anyone this deep in you before?” He asked, gripping at your hips.

“No. Shit!” You cried into the pillows as you buried your face in them.

He wasn't having that and grabbed your hair again, pulling your head up from the pillows. “Wanna hear you, darling. No one's ever made you feel this good?”

“No! No! Just you!” You cried out, moaning from his brutal pace.

“Just me? Do you wanna fuck any of those other assholes anymore?” He moved his hand on your hip to your clit.

“No! I don't!” You were teetering on the edge now.

“Good. Who do you belong to, darling?” He asked, feeling how you were clenching on him as he groaned.

“I belong to you, Draco!” You cried out.

“You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock, sweet girl?” He asked, his own thrusts losing tempo.

“Yes! I'm gonna cum!” He kept his pace as best as he could before you came, trembling and crying his name with a few curses.

He was right behind you, filling your sweet pussy with his cum. He rode out his high before pulling out and watching his cum dripping out as he rubbed along your back gently.

He never wanted anyone else to touch you again. You were his future wife. You belonged to him and him to you.