#their dynamic is just: dumb and dumber

[chocostrwberry]

My chocoau! Versions of Ladybug and Chat Noir!! 🐞🐈‍⬛

I’ll also create my own love square between them :D

[rennelelorren]

Aang and Zuko more than a half of a show: fighting against each other

Also Zuko & Aang the second they forced/decided to work together: sharing one brain cell like it's the most natural thing in the world

They so stupid together I can't.

Same thing goes for Sokka too. Like... man forgot he need to think his plans the second he teams up with Zuko.

Is that a Zuko affect 🤔? Zu affects everyone by losing their ability to think?

[k1rakett]

it has been a hot minute since i've posted smth here oops anyways. have some stuff with ayana and tabi :3

[carbonbasedmatter]

I just think it would be funny if we called troy x britta/tritta or whatever they're called michael jackson² 😞

[dumbgoondog]

Pet Names and Trouble(P1)

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Kenjaku, Mahito, Nanami

Cw/Tw— Degradation, BDSM dynamics, Sub Dom dynamics, Mahito…

What the men call you! Cute names and dumb names, plus how to know if you’re in trouble!

SATORU GOJO

Pet names- Sugar, sweetheart, lovely, candy, lollipop, beautiful/handsome, honey, and cutie. All interchangeably sometimes he makes up dumb pet names too.

Dumb Pet Names- Cutie booty, Squeaky toy, smoochems(doesn’t know the pkmm)

“You’re in trouble”- Baby. Y/N.

SUGURU GETO

Pet Names- Darling, Dearest, lover, sweetheart, my love, and my blessing. Mostly uses darling tho

Dumb Pet Names- Pookie(started as a joke), Monkey(even dumber joke), and Bumpy.

“You’re in trouble”- no nicknames, doesn’t even use your name, he’s just quiet and watching. Probably plannin

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Pet Names- Woman/Boy, Pet, and something based on your name. Not really a pet names guy.

Dumb Pet Names- Snack, leftover, and Chuck. He thinks he’s funny, and he is funny. He probably won’t compromise unless you give him better.

“You’re in trouble”- your full name. He says it slow too, with a low growl.

KENJAKU

Pet Names- Lovely, lover, love, princess/prince, mi amor, love of my life, and things of that nature.

Dumb Pet Names- hot pants, twinkle toes, dancer, you have to wonder why they call you these things but honestly you might never get an answer past that tongue out smiling shrug.

“You’re in trouble”- Firecracker an inconspicuous one, especially in public. Y/N as well but is a happy little hum where he might squeeze your shoulder or waist.

MAHITO

Pet Names- Bunny, Birdie, baby, bug, ladybug, butterfly, I dunno why B based names feel right but they do.

Dumb Pet Names- bumpky, buggles, squooshy, Bitsy, butt cheek. Also Y/N but add an “ee” to it but if it ends in an “ee” noise it’s becoming “in” (ie. Nanami->Nanamin)

“You’re in trouble”- Pet or Human. Don’t run, it makes him more excited.

KENTO NANAMI

Pet Names- honey bun, sweetie, and sweetheart. Simple and sweet.

Dumb Pet Names- dumpy, he wanted to say “dumpling” and “sweetie” and called you dumpy. He’s so embarrassed by it, please wear it like a badge of honor tho.

“You’re in trouble”- lover, lover of mine, and my love.

[mulloey]

cherry on top • matz

they know you’re your own person, as independent and autonomous as them. but when their baby is this sweet and innocent, how could they possibly resist?

this is not a healthy relationship and will not be to everyone’s taste. if you choose to read, that’s your choice and responsibility. any hate will be deleted and blocked, so don’t waste your time.

warnings: matz throuple, manipulation, slight dollification, pet names (doll, baby etc), a couple of slaps, slight infantilisation, matz are Very weird in this, could be dubcon but no sex in that section, controlling behaviour, unequal power dynamics, don’t like don’t read

word count: 1k

—————

It started with a nickname; balls deep inside you with your legs held down firmly behind your head, Hongjoong had gasped out a ‘feels so good, doll’. In the heat of a moment it had meant nothing, especially when he’d unloaded in you mere seconds later rendering everything else unimportant. But later that night, when you’d been sufficiently used by both of your boyfriends and were clean and cosy in bed, your other boyfriend, Seonghwa, holding you in his arms, had remarked, “She really is like a doll, isn’t she?”

Seeing the look on Hongjoong’s face, Seonghwa smiled, recognising the reaction of the younger — he liked it. He liked that you were so doll-like — pliant, submissive, and sweet to the point of delirium — and he liked that Seonghwa knew it too. They both knew, from the silent look they shared in that moment, that an agreement had been formed. You were going to be their doll, whether you knew it or not.

They started with small things. The first was the nickname — doll, falling from their lips like honey, purred with a fond smile and a soothing touch. They said it so often you began to respond to it as if it were your own name… actually, what is your own name? It doesn’t matter, you thought. Because to them, you’ were doll.

Then it escalated, still slowly and subtly; they started treating you more and more like a doll — brushing your hair, choosing your clothes, doing your makeup. Each passing day they did more and more for you, taking more and more of your independence. They had their reasons, they told you — at first it was ‘just easier this way’, then gradually the mask slipped. “We’re older, baby,” Seonghwa had said, pulling your hair into plaits. “We know better.”

“We know how to take care of you,” Hongjoong had said. “You don’t think we do?” And the sadness in his eyes had made you cave instantly, never wanting to see him down like that; especially not because of you.

You knew what they were doing; at some point you’d realised they were dumbing you down, making you less and less able and more and more dependent on them for even basic tasks. But what you didn’t understand was why. Why did they want you to be stupid and useless, so much so that they’d whisper it in your ear each time you came on their cocks? Why did their eyes get so wide, pupils dilated and breaths hitched when you ashamedly asked them for help with something you used to be perfectly capable of doing yourself? Why?

Was it a humiliation thing? Some weird, perverted kind of negging? No, they weren’t like that. They’d always been so loving, and as you slowly went dumber and dumber for them, that only increased. They couldn’t walk past you, touch you or even look at you without telling you how pretty you looked, how much they adored you, how perfect you all were together. So it couldn’t be that — it couldn’t be malicious. It had to be something good. But what?

You found out a few weeks later. Sat on the couch, sandwiched between your boyfriends as they watched some boring movie you’d no interest in, you found yourself playing absentmindedly with the hem of the skirt they’d put you in that morning. It was white and lacy and hardly covered your ass even when you stood straight; when you’d complained, Seonghwa had swatted your thigh and in that gentle, sickly sweet voice of his, told you to shut your mouth.

After a while, when boredom and hunger crept in in tandem you decided to make yourself some food. You’d scarcely stood up before strong hands dragged you back down again. You made a noise halfway between confusion and indignation, and Seonghwa swatted your thigh again. “Bad girl,” he said, as sweet as ever. “Where are you going without us, hm?”

“To…make some food?” You say weakly. You didn’t know why you felt so guilty, so admonished and… caught. Like you’d done something wrong just by trying to stand up and go to the kitchen.

Your boyfriends chuckled, patting you fondly like you’d suggested the most ridiculous, childish thing in the world. “You don’t know how to do that, baby,” Hongjoong said.

“What?” You asked. “That’s ridiculous. Of course I know how.”

They chuckled again, and something in their voices felt sinister. “Silly baby,” Seonghwa whispered. “You still don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Seonghwa smiled, running his hand gently up your torso until it came to rest loosely on your neck. You gasped softly and involuntarily at the sensation and he smiled. “Hongjoong,” he said lowly. “I think it’s time we gave the little one some proper care. Don’t you think?”

Hongjoong hummed, stroking your leg up and down. “I agree,” he purred. “Proper guidance.”

“I don’t need—”

“Hush now,” Seonghwa said. His tone didn’t change — just as sickly sweet and caring as before — but you saw a flash of anger in his eyes. “You don’t decide that anymore, honey. Only we know what you need now.”

Somehow his words were as reassuring as they were nauseating — something about them was sickening, unnerving and yet just hearing them from his mouth made you feel so… warm. So cared for. So protected. Fuck, this was so confusing.

“We’re really smart, you know,” Hongjoong added. “It’s okay that you can’t keep up. You just need to follow our lead and trust us. You’re not too dumb to do that, right?”

You stared at him for a moment. You didn’t know what to say, what they wanted you to say. You didn’t even want to have to say anything at all. You just wanted them.

They noticed. They’d been noticing this whole time; monitoring your reactions to each card they played, watching you as you slowly, steadily regressed without your knowledge. They knew everything. They saw everything. And they knew exactly what you needed now.

“Good girl,” Hongjoong purred. He pulled you into his arms, nuzzling against your neck almost like he was claiming you. “I knew you could do it, baby.”

And despite everything in your head, your heart warning you, telling you this was wrong, this was dangerous — you didn’t listen. You shut it all out. Because what did they know compared to your loving boyfriends, who spoke so sweetly to you and held you like you were such a precious, fragile gem?

So you relaxed. You relaxed into his hold, into their control. You gave yourself away to them, knowing they’d take better care of you than you ever could. And when you finally gave in, finally surrendered to them, they made sure to treat you so nicely that you’d never want to be your own person again.

—————

i’m back with… whatever this is. i’ve been very busy with school/life etc so haven’t had the chance to post anything til now. i thought i’d drop this random bullshit i had in my drafts while i get back to work on the wips/requests i have piled up. bear with me:)

comments/reblogs are appreciated as always. love🖤🖤🖤

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I feel like in the early books Ron was not dumb and then JR kind of made him dumb later like she got influenced by the movies.

I kinda feel like this, too. Again, I'm not a mind reader, and I don’t know what JKR was thinking or what her writing process was, but that is the vibe I got too. I mean, even in boom 5, Ron is smarter and more capable than he is portrayed in books 6 and 7. But this feeds in to a lot of other problems I have with the final two books.

Something I noted recently when reading through book 5 again is that Ron was already the Keeper of Gryffindor's Quidditch team in year 5. Throughout year 5, Ron has an arc of getting more confident as a Quidditch player, and he gets a win at the end of the book. At the end of the book, he also sorta accepts that it: "can't get any worse". So, apparently, JKR trudged the same arc with Ron twice, once in OotP and once (but worse) in HBP.

And Ron isn't the only one who is dumbed down in the final books. The romances in HBP make all of them look dumber (Hermiobe included). It's like all of Romione's emotional intelligence (a staple of both characters in earlier books. Ron was always good at understanding how to talk to people and balancing Harry and Hermione’s moods while Hermione used to be great at analyzing other people's emotions) was thrown out the window in HBP for the sake of teen romance drama. (I know the emotional range if a teaspoon line is in OotP, but Hermione is wrong and frustrated that Ron doesn't seem to realize she has a crush on him. Again, retrudging arcs)

But Ron in DH is at his worst. Now, I can find watsonian explanations for that (the war, worry for his family, etc.). But doylisticly, it seems JKR was influenced by the movie portrayal the most when writing the final book. Hermione is toned down compared to her past, Ron is stupider, Harry is more book Harry than movie Harry, but he still feels off. The entire Golden Trio dynamic feels off for sections of DH (and parts of HBP to a lesser extent). All their plans are also kinda shit in a way they don't need to be considering they had time to plan for a change.

And we know the movies influenced her writing. Hell, even the twins height was influenced by the movies. In PS, Ron at 11 is said to be "almost as tall as the twins". They are repeatedly described as built like Molly and Charlie - "short and stocky" and yet, they are described as taller than Harry in DH, even though, Harry is the same height as James who is described as "tall". So I think the movies were definitely a contributing factor.

DH is the only book in the series Ron feels useless while Hermione is portrayed as amazing (even if she's not as perfect as her movie counterpart). It's so much closer to their movie dynamic than the books. But its not consistent. Some scenes are more similar to their book characters, while others feel oddly detached and like these aren't the same people. (I think JKR edited in some scenes later that were more influenced by the movies, including the battle of the seven Potters and a good chunk of the camping trip, if i had to guess).

It's all part of why I'm not a fan of Romione in HBP and DH. Ron feels dumber than he had up to this point. In the earlier books, his and Hermione’s banter was so good because they were both incredibly intelligent and respected each other so much. In the last two books, their dynamic just doesn't feel the same to me in a bad way.

So, I definitely feel like Ron was dumbed down in the final 2 books and had his arcs from books 4 and 5 get retrudged in 7 and 6, respectively. Which adds to him feeling dumber, I think. The fact we see things we already saw from him adds to him feeling stupider since he didn't really learn from his arcs. I feel JKR wasn't sure what to do with his character by the end. I feel she had the same problem with Hermione, as she doesn't really get an arc at all in DH. (Which is a shame, since I think she could've had an interesting arc in realising what she was willing to do in war, rather than give Harry that arc that wasn't there beyond one line from Lupin, since she was kind of primed for it. And I wish Ron didn’t get arcs he already had. I think Romione getting together in year 5 would've helped both their arcs).

Again, I can find watsonian explanations for all of this, and I do like the final two books. But I'm more critical of them since I feel there is more to criticise there from a writing standpoint, a plot and worldbuilding standpoint, and a characterization standpoint. (Especially as they come after my favorite books in the series: GoF and OotP)

[peachhoneii]

"You are a dumber, sweatier version of him."

Ford and Stan conformed to society's expectations of twins and their individual pursuits throughout their entire lives. Ford is the talented, gifted academic. We know he can play piano extremely well. His abilities aren't restricted to the sciences obviously. In contrast, Stan is demoted as the less intelligent, less gifted twin. In many cases, especially in his father's treatment of him, he's perceived as the dumb twin.

After listening the GF commentary podcast and rewatching the show, we've all come to the general consensus that Stan isn't dumb. Stan can't be dumb. He lacks Ford's academic gifts but is able to recreate the portal using advanced sciences, maths, and etc. This man who didn't finish high school at best is able to understand and recreate the concepts his brother included in his journal.

The more I read and rewatch I can only assume Stan has some kind of learning disability that went undiagnosed. Let's not forget, Stan and Ford were likely born in the 1950s. There were not many resources for children living with dyslexia or adhd or add or any person living outside the "norm." Or he was lazy, felt defeated in trying to make good grades especially after what his dad when he got an F-.

They can never make me like you, Filbrick Elmer Pines. If he has no haters, then I'm dead.

While I don't want to say Ford treated Stan like he was dumb, he treated Stan as if he was less intelligent than him. Stan used to cheat off of his tests in school. We saw that. This behavior is another parallel/contrast between Mabel and Dipper. It highlights how close they are and how well they understand each other.

In Journal 3 Dipper says, "Can be a real friend when she's not doing one of her bits. She's smarter than people give her credit for, and often acts the way she does just to drive me insane."

This isn't to imply their dynamic is perfect. It isn't perfect. There are bumps and a few potholes in the roads, but Dipper always treats Mabel as an intelligent person, knows she sleeps on her own gifts so she can do her bits. The difference between Ford and Stan is that I don't think Ford wanted to accept Stan's gifts and would only begrudgingly internally.

The show doesn't highlight Mabel being treated as the dumb twin. She's treated as the silly twin with more emotional intelligence than Dipper. She can be selfish, but she's also considered more mature than Dipper. Hirsch definitely sees her as more mature in a way to Dipper.

The parallels are simply so beautiful to me. I appreciate how they're not 1:1 parallels, y'know. They can fit in each various slots but serve similar roles for each other.

[churipu]

can i request the reader being gojo's younger (or little, if that's what you prefer) sister during their highschool days? i think the dynamic between her and geto would be really cute and sweet! meanwhile, shoko would be the tired aunt that has to watch every stupid thing that stsg and the reader does 😭

๋࣭⭑ A CHAOTIC FOURSOME ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

featuring. gojo satoru, shoko ieiri, geto suguru + gojo's little sister

warning. time sequence is during their highschool days (2006) and i'd say the reader would be younger than gojo by a year, so she's as old as nanami and haibara :D

note. i'm actually like so ecstatic to write this because i have so many assumptions of gojo with a younger sister, thank you nonnie for requesting this, ily <;33

the mother x the dumb x the dumber x the dumbest

no doubt that shoko is the mother of the group, without her the whole group is just well, plainly chaotic. satoru will come up for stupid plans, hence the dumbest. you will undoubtedly follow him, hence the dumber. and geto will think it's stupid, but will follow him, hence the dumb.

"okay, so what if we just — find a way to summon a curse, and sell our soul to it for something in return?" satoru asks with a cheeky grin.

"sounds cool, i'm in!" you replied with a large toothy grin.

"that must be the stupidest idea i have ever heard in my life," geto sighs out, "but let's do it."

"i don't have a soul," shoko mutters out of the blue, sighing out, "and you guys are incredibly stupid, you know that?" at the end of the day, the plan didn't even commence nor did you all talked about it again.

you are the closest with geto, he treats you like a little sister as well — except he's a little less of an asshole than your actual brother.

satoru is an asshole. he's a pain in the ass, no doubt. all three— you, geto, and shoko— can and will admit the fact that out of you four, satoru is the brattiest. however though, being related to him by blood, you were his target most of the time.

"ouch! satoru, did you really just shoot me with a nerf gun? that fucking hurts you ass!" you hiss, rubbing your nape— where satoru just shot with a nerf gun.

"take that, peasant." satoru sings out, attempting to shoot two more bullets at you, one hitting your arm and the other barely missing you.

you ran to shoko who immediately flee, leaving you open to satoru, traitor. before you eventually seek shelter behind geto who was sitting down on a bench, sipping a drink; and oh boy, the bullet managed to hit his face.

"oh shit." satoru mumbled, "it was an accident, suguru."

"damn." you look at geto, before laughing lightly.

geto smiled at your brother before standing up, and the cat-and-mouse chase between them both begin. geto made sure you were alright after, and satoru was— yeah, he survived, just a little bruised here and there.

being siblings is funny, satoru's closet is your closet too.

"y/n, is that my shirt?" satoru asks, pointing at the white shirt you were wearing and you hummed softly, sipping on a carton of milk.

satoru began lecturing you and how you shouldn't snoop in his closet, "lord, save me." you muttered out, walking in between shoko and geto while your brother constantly turned towards you to lecture you about asking for permission.

"are you even listening to me, brat?"

shoko grunted, "make him shut up, please."

"it's not her fault that she looks better in your shirt, satoru," geto laughed lightly, and that somehow managed to shut your brother up for the rest of the day— until he opens the door to your room late at night with a pout on his face.

"my shirt does not look better on you, for your information."

"oh my god, satoru you're so childish!"

as much as satoru teases you, when it comes to protecting you— he's number one, and he will always worry about you. he will not hesitate to tell someone off if they're bothering you.

"so, who is it?" satoru asks, his eyes not leaving the television screen.

you sat next to him and hummed in confusion. earlier you had gotten home with a small bruise right next to your lip, and as hard as you tried to cover it with make up — satoru still noticed the bluish purple outline of the bruise.

"what do you mean?"

"who gave you the bruise?" he asks again, calmly. way too calm for your liking, to be honest.

"i fell."

satoru finally turned to look at you, "doesn't look like you fell, just tell me what happened, it's not like 'm gonna do anything—maybe." he mumbled out the last part under his breath.

you sighed out, knowing the male won't drop the topic unless you tell him about it, "you know that one guy who wouldn't stop bothering me just because i beat him up in middle school for ruining my comic book?"

"the one i already try to tell off last time?" you nodded at him, "damn it, i should've gotten rid of him that time. want me to hollow purple him or do you prefer a more friendly approach?"

you chuckled, "i can fix this myself."

"nu-uh," he rolled his eyes, "hollow purple it is."

"'toru!"

"sheesh, fine friendly approach it is."

shoko and geto tries their best to look after you and satoru, but they don't get paid for this and always ends up giving up halfway and just joins in the "fun".

"oh, come on satoru, this is like the worst plan ever!" you tell him, crossing your arms.

"what? why? is it because i made it?" he argues, crossing his arms as well.

"no — okay, yes, maybe. but still it's a shitty plan, right?" you look over to geto and shoko who only nodded in forced affirmation, in all honesty, they didn't know what was happening between you and your brother or whatever you both were talking about.

"suguru, even you?" satoru whines out, "traitor."

"see? what about we go for my plan instead?" you offered, and satoru immediately declines, arguing with you.

it took you both two hours to finally settle on doing nothing because you got tired, and satoru got too angry that geto had to drag him away.

when satoru was supposedly "killed" by the sorcerer killer, toji. you were fucking destroyed. until he actually shows up, looking more alive than ever.

"oh, you're alive?" you asked slowly, although in disbelief.

satoru chuckled, opening his arms for you to fall into, "don't say it like that, might think that my own sister doesn't love me," not like you spent the whole time crying over him.

"fucking ass. i hate you so much." you hugged him.

"i love you too."

satoru spoils you. and when he does, he makes sure geto and shoko gets little of it too (because you told him to do it so they would feel loved).

"i was thinking — satoru treating us three to shabu?" geto immediately agrees with no hesitation, no thoughts, he just agreed to what you said.

satoru looks at you and smiled sweetly. a fake one. but it was fun watching him like this so you didn't care, "shoko?"

"free food? hell yeah." shoko nods her head with a smirk.

satoru ended up feeding all three of you like a mama feeding her child, and you ended up getting a scolding from him and a threat that goes a little like: "that's the last time i'm spending my money on you, loser."

but you know he didn't mean that. just watch how he'll probably get you something the very next day.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[one-beer-is-not-enough]

I posted my oc Dani and i would LOVE to know how you believe him and Marcel would interact!! It’s my first time posting a Bully oc so im sorta nervous. He doesn’t rlly have a last name and i haven’t made a lot of info pages about him yet but i tried to give as much context as possible :,)

!!! Daniiiii Dani boooyy hahaha!

Sorry abt the shit drawing, traditional art shoved its boot so far up my ass I'm picking shoelaces from my teeth. I swear on my life I'll redraw this digitally when I get back 🙏

These two trying to play it cool with a prefect after quite literally breaking through a dorm door while fighting 💀

Interactions:

Oh boy. Their dynamic is like Dumb and Dumber if they were both escaped asylum patients. Fighting over the crown prize of being public enemy nr 1... by duking it out in public spaces, getting arrested... And then continuing to bicker in their shared jail cell.

Both of them being the preps' errand boys is the way they meet for the first time. That's also when their beef starts and gets progressively worse... And funnier. Expect pettiness of the highest order

Marcel almost surely finds out about Dani's thing with Bif, and uses it as ammo constantly. It's only fair to attack each other over their boyfriends (who watch them in disappointment from a distance)

Marcel would deadass leave hate-mail and break-up letters in Dani's locker for weeks, signing all of them as 'Bif'. He'll even go through the trouble of trying to replicate Bif's handwriting to make it more convincing 💀 Professional hater

Like you said yourself, I think in some weird way they enjoy this rivalry. When you hate someone for surface-level reasons, at some point it just becomes entertaining more than anything

Number one trigger to get Marcel into a fight: insulting Derby. Works like a charm. So he returns the favor by shit-talking Bif to Dani's face (not that he needs the incentive, he hates Bif as it is)

Marcel passing by Dani declaring the most random shit: "Every night before I close my eyes, I pray for your downfall" <- Which Dani follows up with "Why don't you pray for some bitches instead?"

Marcel: If you have a million haters, I'm ALL of them

Dani: 🫵 Unemployed behavior

I feel like either one of them could be having a bad day, but it becomes a little better by just thinking: "Well at least I'm not [Marcel/Dani]."

If Bully had social media, you can bet your ass they'd be sending each other the most aggressive posts. Marcel sees a video of someone being cringy and tags Dani in the comment section with "This is you 👆"

Honestly they're doing Bullworth a favor by messing with each other, instead of using that time to piss off the others around them lmao

Bonus:

Marcel writing hate-letters to Dani like:

[chrollosnenfish]

I remember when I read the webtoon, not at all knowing what I was getting myself into, having a great time. Then I finished it, with a hole in my heart so big I didn’t think anything else could fill it. Then I learned that they had adapted weak hero into one season of a kdrama. I was absolutely ecstatic and I watched it all in one sitting. It fascinated me how the director chose to adapt the backstory first, but I definitely wasn’t against the decision. In fact, I believe that’s the best way it could have gone. Then comes this year. I had been anticipating season 2 for so long and when it came out, I made sure to watch it in one sitting, as to not get spoiled. I was, again, filled with an empty hole in my heart. But also the satisfaction of seeing this product that I had waited for and love being adapted in a way that was filled with passion.

The relationships in this show fill me with so much joy. Starting off with the OG trio. I always have a soft spot for trios in fiction. Each of the pairs have their own unique dynamic and it elated me to see Sieun come out of his shell slowly in this group. Even after all of the events of season 1, Sieun holds so much love in his heart for Beomseok that I don’t think even he knows what to do with it. (I’ll get to Suho and Sieun’s dynamic later).

Sieun and Yeongyi were also a cute dynamic. Her assertiveness vs. his reserved-ness also played a large part in him being able to open up. Suho and Yeongyi were basically 2 peas in a pod. They matched each other’s vibe and were loud enough to cancel out each other.

Onto season 2. We had the quad. Each member strategically balanced each other out. Starting off first with Sieun and Baku. Both of them struggle with very similar things, the burden of thinking they ruined a friend’s life due to their actions. They try to keep people safe, but don’t take their own advice. One of them is fighting for everyone and the other is fighting for everyone they love. Then there’s Gotak and Juntae. These two cuties are almost like each other’s rock. They’re always there for each other and would do basically anything to protect each other. Juntae’s kind nature balances out Gotak’s impulsiveness. Their scenes will always make me smile. I like reading them as romantically coded, but I also like their dynamic as just friends

Then we’ve got Sieun and Juntae. I think Sieun was surprised with the idea that he had the ability to protect someone who, just days ago, he didn’t care about at all. He may see a little bit of himself in Juntae, although their personality differs. Juntae sees Sieun as almost his savior. He didn’t even call him and he came running. Next is Gotak and Baku. The childhood friends. Although they don’t talk about the incident, I imagine once in a while, Baku sees Gotak’s leg and starts spiraling, but Gotak reassures him that he’s okay. They’re very much the ‘dumb and dumber’ trope, and they compliment each other well.

Next is Sieun and Gotak. Although their relationship started rough, they’ve both grown into people that they can mutually respect. Gotak, other than their first fee encounters, never crosses any of Sieun’s boundaries and always seems to make him feel comfortable. In fact, they’ve both grown first almost smile we got out of Sieun in season 2 was because of his (and Baku’s) antics. Lastly for the quad, we’ve got Juntae and Baku. Although one of the less explored dynamics, we can see that Baku views Juntae as almost a little brother, someone worth protecting.

Now for a very interesting one, Baekjin and Baku (#were divorced and make it everyone’s problem). Jkjk, but the two of them have a very complicated history and “let go” of their affection for each other long, long ago. Knowing that Baekjin dies not knowing the Baku does not, in fact, hate him, will forever hurt me. Another interesting one is Sieun and Baekjin. The two geniuses who could have been on the same team in spelling bee, who ended up fighting each other almost to death. One thing that always stood out to me, was that Baekjin never broke his promise about not going to Suho’s hospital, while Sieun did end up not keeping his promise of staying away from Baku.

As the absolute last we’ve got Sieun and Suho. From the moment I read the webtoon, their dynamic tickled my brain. Their relationship starts off similar to how Sieun’s and Gotak’s start, with a bit of a rough patch. From then on, through effort put in on Suho’s part, and toleration on Sieun’s they get closer and closer. I know their relationship can be interpreted in different ways, but the romantic angle was always the one I saw it from. As soon as either one of them gets hurt, the other makes sure to make the person who’s hurt them pay dearly. He was the first person to make him smile and the entire conversation at the hospital was almost a confession of love. Even the director, Hyunwook and Jihoon themselves said similar things about their love. I know, when Suho got put in that coma, Sieun probably never thought he’d love again. But through exposure to all new friends, he did. Then seeing his heart through his eyes at the sight of Suho at the end of season two wrapped it all up with a pretty little bow.

I’m glad to finally write this all down. I’ve been wanting a way to relay my feelings about weak hero and I finally did.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter two

of rage and ruin series

chapter two

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: you come face to face with the beast.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, allusions to/threats of torture, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), depiction of injury, body horror, typical raider/hunter behavior, mention of cordyceps, angst, viewer discretion is advised,

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They were careful never to touch you. The exam you’d been given when they first brought you here was done with thick rubber gloves, and no one has touched you since. 

But there are plenty of ways to teach you compliance without touching you. 

Before they moved you, you didn’t see a soul for two days. No one delivered or removed the cloth strips, food, or water. No one woke you up with a loud buzzer or dragged you outside to hose you down. 

No one hurt you.

The first few hours, you sit and do nothing as usual. You don’t really notice.

After that, though, you start to wait. This deviation, this anomaly, was far more terrifying than the wretched routine. And with no meals, you’re bereft of a way to count the passing of time. There’s no sunlight down here, after all. 

To your deep relief, the lights still go off at night. Until you’re lying awake in the dark and realize they’re probably on a timer. So maybe all your captors are dead. Made a stupid mistake and got their asses handed to them by FEDRA.

Which would be nice, but also, you’d still fucking die. Because you’re trapped in this godforsaken grimy ass basement, and somewhere on the other side of it is the only other resident you know of. Him. 

So either you starve to death, or he eats you. Or both. 

You spend the next day hoping to see Cheryl’s smug bitch face. 

When someone finally comes for you, it’s not Cheryl. It’s not Jim, either, but that’s not a surprise. He doesn’t like you, doesn’t like whatever Cheryl’s doing with you.

Not because he has any objections to the captivity or abuse. No, Jim’s been clear—you’re a waste of resources. 

Anyway, it’s fucking Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber who show up. They’re not real twins (you’re not even sure they’re brothers), but they’re a damn good argument for nurture over nature. Spending the apocalypse together has them moving in tandem, grunting and jerking their heads to one another in a language all their own. They’re built like oxen and about as polite. 

You don’t fight anymore, but they still tie you and drag you around. You haven’t so much as argued in weeks. You’ve heard that everyone breaks from torture eventually. You waved your flag from the start. 

You’re not made for this. 

They tie you up without touching your skin; hands layered in gloves just in case. They leave a length of rope from your wrists to pull you by, leaving the rope around your feet as it was. You had earned that six inches of slack, just enough to stand and walk to the makeshift toilet instead of crawling, after a solid week of good behavior. 

When you figure it out, though, you try to run. Every electric screaming nerve in your body says to go. Go where? Who fucking knows. Anywhere. Away. Run. 

The room they’ve brought to you is saturated in oaky musk, and you only need a glimpse of the little cage within before you’re jerking backward.

They must have gotten used to your compliance because the rope flies from Tweedle Dumb’s grasp. The three of you stand still for a moment, all shocked by the turn of events. 

You turn to run, but it’s too late already. One of them swept your fucking legs like this was an action movie, and bound as you are, that’s the end of the fight. You crash and earn yourself some new bruises, and they drag you into the room by the rope between your feet. 

One of them—you’ve forgotten who had which nickname in all the hubbub—snaps out a baton.

“Get in the fuckin’ cage, or I’ll break your ankles.”

It’s a strong argument that you have no desire to see if he’ll follow through on. Already hurt and humiliated, you crawl into the cage.

They lock it behind you and leave without another word. The lights go out with a buzz, casting everything you hadn’t taken in yet in total darkness. 

When the lights come back on, you wish they hadn’t. 

At first, you don’t even realize they’ve flickered to life, because what they’ve revealed isn’t real. 

It’s a big, brown Rorschach blob. It’s an oil spill. It’s moving, in a jerky, fluid way that should be impossible. The limbs have pointed bony joints, and you can only describe the way they crawl as spidery, though they’re thick and bulky. 

Jim is standing on the other side of the gate, holding onto a thick chain that rattles and creaks dangerously as the beast strains against the thick metal band around its neck. He looks bored, but he usually does. 

Cheryl, however. The way her lips are curled, eyes wide and bright… this must be him. 

“Don’t you know what happens to the others? The alphas?” she had teased the night of all the howling. She had laughed at the traitorously dumbfounded look on your face. 

You do now. 

A long pink tongue has unfurled from his massive jaw, flopped over far too many teeth, and dripping thick saliva onto the floor. The… fur, for lack of a better word, around his muzzle is matted with something dark that you can’t look at anymore. 

Jim yanks him by the chain, and the creature lets himself be pulled to the door, barely holding still while the padlock and chain are removed from his collar and the cuffs from his paws. 

He’s at the end of your cage before you realize he’s moved, and you scream, scrambling back as much as you can into the corner. The spaces between the bars are thin enough for just his… good god, are those fingers? They certainly aren’t canine toes. They’re tipped in thick, long claws packed with soil and detritus.

“Hey,” Jim barks, and the beast side-eyes him. “Remember what I fuckin’ told you. You break or eat her? That’s it. I’m not getting you another one.” 

Eat? Eat?  

Oh god.

Your stomach swoops and falls, abdomen clenching and drawing attention to your too-full bladder, unlocking a new fear that you’re going to piss yourself if he comes closer. 

He does. You don’t. But just barely.

That long, dark snout pushes against the cage, as if it could nudge through to reach you, pink tongue lapping against the air. The oak musk is so strong now that it lines your throat and makes you gag.

You choke back a retch-turned-sob and he rumbles, a strange vibration that rattles the bars where he’s pressed against them. He rises, stretching up up up on his hind legs until he towers over your little cube, enveloping you in his shadow, and you can’t help it. You start to cry. 

He can’t reach you, not when you’re tucked back in the corner of your cage. But he can smell you, and he can smell the rich iron soaking into the ropes around your wrists. It’s not yet visible, but the skin squishing through the edges is red and rough. 

He whines, pushing his muzzle against the bars, long tongue flopping out like he can reach. 

The sharp battery acid edge of your fear spikes, and he growls. Stupid girl. Stupid fucking omega. He’s trying to help you, and you’re—you’re— 

You’re starting to cry again. 

He can’t make human words like this, can’t enunciate or even really remember them. He tries to reach you through the bars again, snarling when they burn against his knuckles. Even the distended bony fingers of his full form can’t reach you there, not even with the tip of his claw. 

You’re shaking now, body twitching and jittering beyond your control. Everything inside you is screaming white-hot and dissolving; vomit tickles the base of your throat, and you just can’t stop crying. It hurts; it’s ripping your throat and lungs to shreds. It’s a violent, tumultuous thing, and you can’t stop the wounded keening of your cries. 

He’s pacing in front of your cage now, the beast, on four mangled limbs too long to be canine and too warped to be human. His huffs startle you, long snout returning, again and again, tongue darting out for a taste. 

A little drop of blood slides down your hand from where the rope’s edge cuts into the bottom of your palm.

He freezes, nostrils flaring. You freeze, barely breathing. 

He looks right at you and then tips his head back to howl, the sound like icy water through your veins. 

You can’t help yourself. You scream, broken as your voice is from all the tears. 

Between the cacophony, Jim stomps into the corridor and slams his hand on the wall. “Shut the fuck up, both of you!” 

“Help me,” you yell. 

I’m trying, the wolf howls. 

“Please, please help me,” you gasp, sobs reaching new highs alongside your panic. 

“If you don’t quiet the fuck down, I’ll open up your goddamn cage and let him eat you,” Jim snaps. “I said you were going to be more trouble than you’re worth, and I was fuckin’ right.”

The beast snarls, snapping his sharp teeth at the air. 

Jim regards him with a sneer. “And you! Giving her a heart attack counts as breakin’ her.”

The words don’t make sense, but you don’t really hear them, anyway. “Please, I want to go home, please, please,” you whisper. 

But no one’s listening. 

The Wolf is listening. 

He prowls back and forth on all fours, which really, isn’t any more or less terrifying than when he rises up on his haunches. Neither image capitulates to your need to make it make sense. There is no sense, no logic, no reality that can hold him.

The wolf, for really, that’s what he is, isn’t he? God, you don’t want to say it. Unbidden, a memory works loose in your brain, slipping out of the crates of nonsense stored away in favor of survival, and rattles around.

I know what you are. But you won’t say it. 

Did you bring this upon yourself for reading trashy supernatural romance novels? Did you watch Underworld too many times? Did the shot actually put you in a coma, and you’re living in some kind of nightmare?

The wolf is watching you. There are no whites in his eyes, just pools of gasoline on muddy puddles. 

You close your eyes and pretend you can’t hear the way his claws click against the tile. 

While Laura had fed them stew, she told them about the trials. 

They had been the first. The first taken, before volunteers were called. Before they knew they’d need secure places to hold them, they had been gathered for observation in an old YMCA, packed in racketball courts so the doctors could stand outside the large wall of glass and watch them all at once.

They stood outside that glass and watched them change, in one way or another. The ones who turned, as she called it, went first. The ones who would become test group alpha. More than half of the overall subjects, who became suddenly, violently ill. 

They left them all in there with the rest, waiting, watching them cry out, watching them vomit and sweat and break impossible fevers. Temporal thermometers reading 105, 106, before they’d succumb to unconsciousness. 

If they woke, they were… inhuman. Something more. Something hungry. 

A lot of the first round of test data was lost when the subjects were eaten. But some were lost to the turn. Test group beta, Laura’s brother among them, didn’t survive the fever.

Laura’s husband turned but didn’t lose himself to the beast. Something in him stayed present, alert enough to protect his wife from the others. Or rather, something in her kept him that way. Something that had turned in her too, albeit without the violence, into something more than she’d ever been before. 

“They drove us out of the QZ,” she said, picking idly at a gouge in the table’s surface. “To shoot us where they could burn all the bodies and forget.”

“And what happened?” Tommy asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“We ate them.”

They come back for him that night but he’s not waiting for them. He’s sat with his big, furry back to you, close enough to the cage that you could pet him. The thought crosses your mind in a moment of delirium. You could stick your fingers through the little bars and feel the coarse hickory hair. You know, if you were clinically insane. 

You’re not about to offer him a little snack. 

He’d given up on reaching you a few hours ago, content to sit there unmoving once your tears dried up. It’s only slightly less terrifying.

But when they take him out, you only get to sit with the relief for a moment. Minutes pass in the dark and silent room, but you regret letting your guard down when footsteps echo through the cavernous halls beyond. 

The Idiot Twins are back, and they’re not taking chances with you this time. Oh, no. When they unlock the cage, you’re faced with the barrel of a handgun that doesn’t leave your temple as they pull you out by your bound hands.

They don’t bother to stand you up or give you a chance to move on your own, just dragging you out of the room and across the hall. You’re sprawled on your stomach across the frigid floor of the new room, with the door slamming shut behind you without so much as a word. 

The rusted pipes on the wall in the beast’s room make more sense now, once you take in your shadowy surroundings. This room has the same shitty tan tile over every inch, but the walls are lined with blue (or what used to be blue) lockers. Not a single one is intact, whether rusted or dented or doorless, but they’re unmistakably lockers. 

There are two lines of seamless benches, though half are rotted to oblivion. But it’ll be a better bed than the floor.

This is practically paradise. There’s a tray by the door that you don’t see for a while, but when you do, you almost cry again. Might have, if you hadn’t spent the day in tears. 

It’s just broth and water, long gone lukewarm and dusty, but you set upon it like a vampire upon a vein. Wait, no, you really don’t want to think about that right now. But it’s not your fault you’ve got monsters on the brain.

Your reprieve is not long. The sun rises. 

The beast returns.

Oh, and he’s pissed that you’re gone, based on the fucking racket that brings you back to the waking world. 

“Oh, did you think you’d been good enough lately for a treat?” Cheryl taunts him. 

The steel doors between you aren’t enough to hide the sounds of his fury. 

“You’ll have her back when you’ve earned her,” she tells him amidst the cacophony of snarling and gnashing. 

It’s ten days before they return you to the cage. Ten days of poking around the abandoned lockers and finding nothing. Ten days of broth delivered at dawn and dusk. Ten days of your back no longer appreciating the bench to stretch out on. 

Ten days of listening to the nonstop scratching and growling and whining from across the hall. And worse. Oh, much worse. Wet squicks and splatters and harsh groans. You’re not sure if he’s eating or masturbating or what, but it sends shivers through your whole body each time. 

It also sends the weird, sticky slick pooling between your thighs, but you ignore that. It’s been happening since the shot, one of the weirder side effects, but it’s gotten downright fucking annoying since you got here.

You try not to think about it. 

It’s not long after they drag you back to the little cage that they drag him into his. For that’s what this room really is, you know that, even if it doesn’t make you feel better about being in there with him. He’s trapped, too, but you’re the one in danger.

They haven’t untied your wrists since the first time, which have blistered and bled and scabbed until the ropes rubbed the scabs raw and started the whole thing all over. 

He smells it before he sees it, any interest in the slippery sweetness on your thighs gone when he tastes the blood in the air. 

Hurt, he whines, though you can’t understand. Help.  

You don’t cry this time, don’t split the sour tang with salt, but the fear and pain and exhaustion are enough to center him. If he tries, if he could just focus…

And there it goes. You watch, mouth agape and eyes blown wide, as he shifts in front of you for the first time. He backs away while it happens until he’s on the other side of the room and sits his very bare ass on his bed. 

You watch the way his bones jerk and his body shakes and cracks and huffs out sharp, agonized grunts until he’s just a man. Just a man, nothing more. Just a beast masquerading. Worse than a wolf in sheep’s clothing, you think, because you know he’s the wolf, but right now? 

He’s just a pathetic, broken human. Bruised and bloodied, though his marks are rapidly fading as the healing takes over, but his face is edged in nothing but pain and sorrow.

“M’not gonna hurt ya,” was the first thing he croaked out. 

You startle, rattling the cage a little, which makes you wince. 

But he stays on the other side of the room. He’s sitting on his mattress, legs bent up and crossed, as if he had anything left to hide. As if you hadn’t seen too much already.

He tries not to think about it, but jesus. It’s a fucking struggle. As he takes you in this way, unclouded by the hazy moon, it still punches him back. Your smell. 

Joel’s never really liked tart things. Too much of a secret sweet tooth, of a deep yearning for the char and depth of anything fresh from the grill. 

But even now, even nearly fully man , he’s salivating at your green apple tang. Of uncovering the sweet ‘n sour burst of you on his tongue. Of letting his sharp teeth fall sharper through the tough act you fail to wear right, too bruised and soft underneath. 

To feel the way you’d give beneath him. The way you’d spill down his chin. No. He has to get a fuckin’ handle on himself. He can’t even look at you, not now that he knows you can smell the salt of his own slick where his swollen cock sits sobbing, neglected and furious. 

“I’m not,” he protests against your silence. 

He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince. 

But he doesn’t stay himself for long. Not after he thinks instead, suddenly, of autumn. Of the sweet smell of the orchard. Of taking Tommy’s truck up up up into the places where seasons meant something. 

The roads sprawled like veins and they followed them with no end just to see the way the trees curled overhead, branches reaching and burning with dying leaves—a sight so devastating that Joel considered leaving Texas behind for somewhere he could start to take this beauty for granted. 

Chasing the colors led them first to a field of corn, blustering amber in the setting sun. They had returned the next day, fresh from the motel with burnt coffee and warm flannels, parting with precious dollars for the privilege of picking pumpkins and apples and a little corn husk doll. 

He’d have paid every cent ten times over to see Sarah smile like that again. 

This is where the man breaks and bows out. Where the wolf at its weakest is still stronger than Joel. He gives in, gives into the grief, gives into the wolf, and shifts back. He stays curled up on his bed, though, and doesn’t look at you.

He doesn’t speak to you again for a month.

next chapter

[jeonscatalyst]

Did anything about jikooks (or vminkook if that interests you) dynamic surprise you in are you sure? I think the extent of JK's brattiness and their play-fighting did surprise me a little. I think it's because I haven't been following them beyond the music that much in solo era. Also if I compare vminkooks dynamic from say that joint live in 2021 or the live incl Hobi (in 2022 I think?), I think it's a little bit different from what we're seeing in the show. If I think about it, it does check out in many ways with regards to what they've told us but I don't think it's something we've seen this plainly before

Hey anon,

Nothing about Jikook’ or Vminkook’s dynamic surprised me much, infact I would say the boys haven’t changed at all. Jungkook has always been bratty. Literally all the members have complained about him being bratty and stubborn and as for the play-fighting (I am assuming you are talking about Jikook) that has literally always been their thing. Someone described Jikook’s dynamic as a mix of all the other duo dynamics in BTS and now I really cannot unsee it. They playfight like jinkook, bicker like yoonmin, are soft with each other like Namkook, are besties like taekook and are caring towards each other like Jihope. There is literally a mix of everything in their dynamic and that is one of the reasons why Jikook are so difficult to explain as a duo. I personally don’t have any trouble understanding the other duo dynamics of BTS but Jikook still challenges me sometimes.

It was definitely kinda new to see them bicker so much, I mean we had seen them bicker before but the other members were usually in the mix so just seeing them bicker about parking was kinda new but not really surprising to me.

As for taekook, I didn’t see anything about their dynamic that surprised me at all. They are the duo who know how to have maximum fun when they are together as they have so many things in common when it comes to personal interests so it is extremely easy for them to be in sync but they also have moments where they could come off a bit nonchalant towards each other (but this is very normal) and I have seen so many people say they have a passive aggressive energy about them but I don’t see it personally. I just think that Jungkook sometimes has his moments you know, when he doesn’t really feel like being enthusiastic about anyone (Jimin included) and Tae isn’t like Jimin who will still try to initiate interactions when Jk gets in that mood but instead Tae just kinda ignores as well or throws in some snarky comments and maybe that is why people see some passive aggressiveness but generally I think they have gotten much closer than they were a few years ago and even their emotional bond seems to have deepened a little more than before.

For Vminkook’s dynamic, I think it is pretty much the same to be honest. Like I said before, Jungkook has his bratty and soft moments with both of them and Vmin are still the two hyungs who dote on him but call him out in their own way when he starts going too far. Jungkook has a very different dynamic with both of them and it is seen more when he is with the two of them (or atleast I noticed it more). I had always known but just seeing it in play out in AYS was….interesting. I think with Tae, Jk really enjoys just doing the fun boy stuff. They both look their happiest around each other when they are bringing out the childishness out of each other and I can see why they easily connected when they were rookies. One person starts something and the other very easily goes along with it, no question asked. They are also a good example of dumb and dumber or the blind leading the blind because it seems like between the two of them, no one is the voice of reason and we all crave people who we can just be extremely silly with without overthinking anything and I guess that is what taekook are to each other and that is why Tae can call Jk and ask him to join him in Hawaii and Jk takes a 9 hour flight there, you know just for the fun of it. Unlike what taekookers would like to believe, it isn’t because Jk is in love with tae or none of that. If I had a bestie whom I usually have alot of fun with when we are together and we both like the same things and I had Jungkook money and time, I will do the exact same thing. But, just as I had said before, it just feels like the foundation of their friendship is mostly centered around the fun and shared interests, not much else. They ofcourse really care for each other and are supportive of each other as well. I thought it was extremely sweet how Jungkook immediately climbed that wall to encourage Tae when Tae was scared to jump. Those are some of the moments that show just how they get each other and how much they care about each other. Taekook as bestfriends works so well but I don’t see them working out as romantic partners and I also understand why they don’t seem to be each other’s go to person for comfort. This is because they are way too alike. They both are naturally takers so they need givers for things to balance out. That is why at some point, they both sought out comfort from Jimin who is a a natural giver and not from each other.

Jimin and Jungkook are kinda different here because even though those two also have alot of fun with each other, Jimin is actually very different from Jungkook. He isn’t as spontaneous and he thinks about everything way too much. He also likes to have a schedule or plan things out before he executes them but Jungkook takes everyday as it comes and doesn’t seem to think about things too much so because of this, Jimin is like the voice of reason but sometimes Jungkook doesn’t want a voice of reason, he just wants adventure. A good example of this is that episode from I land where Jungkook stole TXT’s food from the pantry. He was in there with Tae and while he was stealing the food, Tae just went along with it and didn’t say anything but instead just found the whole thing funny but immediately Jk went outside with the food and Jimin saw him, Jimin (as well as the other members) asked him to return the food and they even scolded him (Jimin included lol). This is how Tae and Jk are partners in crime because they both readily go along with each other’s mischief but Jimin is that voice of reason that Jk needs because Jk is very impressionable (he said it himself) so if he doesn’t have some Jimins in his life, he could easily go astray. Even though Jikook are so different, they still are so alike and they click and just get each other so well and I don’t even know how to explain it. It seems to me like they are the definition of opposites attract, ying and yang. Jimin has the light that Jk needs and Jk has the darkness Jimin craves, they balance each other out, they give each other what the other lacks, they complement each other completely. Their bond in my opinion is definitely deeper as the foundation of it much more than the fun they have when they are together. There is an underlying intimacy in their play that isn’t there in taekook’s too. While taekook just play around like 5 year olds without a care in the world, splashing around in pools or shooting at each other with water guns, there is a subtle intimacy and softness in the way Jikook play around and they are definitely more handsy with each other too. This is pretty much everything I already knew about them and it is exactly the same thing I saw so I don’t really think anything was surprising or maybe just how much Jikook can bicker, if I had to pick something lol.

So anon, I have written a ton even though you probably just wanted a shorter answer but I couldn’t help myself lol. I have a problem not expatiating as much as I can. I hope this answers your question though and if u don’t mind, I would love to hear what you thought was different about Vminkook’s dynamic from 2021/2022 and now. I don’t really think we can compare from those moments you mentioned but I’d really love to hear or read your thoughts.

[tryingtofindava]

Can you do teen michael afton headcanons with a little sister reader?:3

──𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧! 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

Depending on how sensitive you are, he could either be the best big brother… Or he could be a fucking asswipe (take Evan for example lolz).

LETS YOU SIT ON HIS SHOULDERS!!

Pokes fun at you every chance he gets, and depending on how close you guys are you’ll know if he means it or not.

Type of guy to walk into your room to annoy you then leave without shutting the door.

HE’S DEFINITELY HID UNDER YOUR BED AND GRABBED YOUR ANKLES WHEN YOU GOT CLOSE ENOUGH TO IT.

Call him a furry when he wears his Foxy mask, he gets so pissed off it’s hilarious.

He’s genuinely surprisingly protective of you, not in a ‘awe! How sweet of him!!’ Way. Kinda more like a ‘I’m the only one who can pull that shit on them’ way lmao.

You two have the dynamic of dumb and dumber (doesn’t take rocket science to find out who’s who…)

Like imagine trying to do seemingly simple tasks with him… IT JUST WOULD’NT GO AS PLANNED!!

He’s deffo gonna interrogate any partner you get, like I’m talking whinging a light into their eyes and asking every question in the book.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

track 001. shameless

─── ❝ distance, inches in between, i want you to give in. ❞ ───

masterlist // next

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and others

nataliaruiz my “best” friend gets to drive for ferrari next year! i think this calls for a celebration! (please get me sebastian vettel’s number or daniel ricciardo's, i'm not picky)

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc we are best friends stop lying to people

nataliaruiz are we though? charles_leclerc and i’m not getting you sebastian’s number much less daniel's nataliaruiz oh come on! please! for me! charles_leclerc no way

user18 oh how i’ll adore having natalia around at the paddock with seb.

user25 why is she only making her presence known now that charles is driving for ferrari? was alfa romero not enough?

user18 she has a job asshole and they’ve been friends since they were kids. nataliaruiz if you’ll scroll further down my page you’ll find that i congratulated charles on his achievement in getting into formula 1. not that i need to give an explanation to a stranger.

pierregasly have you two started dating yet? asking for a friend (i’m the friend)

nataliaruiz fuck off you french fuck user84 so it's not just us who sees it user67 meaning we’re not crazy like we thought we were

danielricciardo hate to break it to you kid, but i have a girlfriend

nataliaruiz aw man. also, please never call me kid again, i'm not that young. i could totally date leo dicaprio pierregasly that's because you're under 25... nataliaruiz i wouldn't complain.

maxverstappen33 you're telling me i have to deal with dumb and dumber?

nataliaruiz you fucking love me verstappen admit it. maxverstappen33 i tolerate you at best on a good day.

it started with alcohol, although stories like this always do. in hindsight you can't really blame charles for the choices he made when natalia looked the way she did. she was beautiful, he had known that his entire life. boys always told him he was lucky to have a best friend who looked like her. though it didn't always feel like luck when a boy broke her heart and he was left to console her. sometimes he wished she was less beautiful so her heart would get broken less.

after the announcement of charles’ move to ferrari for the 2019 season, natalia had decided a party night was in order, and charles was never one to say no to her. not even when they were little kids getting in trouble for whatever stupid stunt they decided to pull. it wasn't just that he had a crush on her until he was 14, but more so he didn't know how to say no to a pretty girl, especially one who was his best friend. even when she had moved to a different country to pursue her dreams of acting and modeling, they always found a way to speak. it also helped that she dropped everything the moment he needed her and vice versa.

had it cost them both relationships, yes, but neither of them truly cared. it was a weird dynamic to everyone, they acted like couple but they were friends, or so they insisted. and so they found themselves in the position they were in, naked in a bed, with a massive hangover. waking up together in a bed wasn't strange, they had done that before, but waking up naked was something new to them. natalia was the first to wake up, shooting up when she'd realized what had happened. she grabbed the pillow she had been using and smacked charles across the face, effectively waking up the sleeping boy.

charles shot up, "je suis réveillé. qu'est-ce qui ne va pas? qui est mort?" (i'm awake. what's wrong? who is dead?)

"english, charles, english. it’s too early for french," natalia sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"what's wrong?" natalia gestured to him, then her, and then their clothes on the room floor, "non."

"oui," she sarcastically said, "what do we do?"

"ignore it?" he questioned, "do you remember anything?"

"no," she muttered, "do you?"

charles shook his head, "i don't remember anything after pierre stood on a table."

"good, we forget this ever happened, things go back to normal."

charles nodded, "okay, do i close my eyes?"

"for?"

"are you not going to put your clothes back on?"

"oh!" natalia realized, "yes, i am."

pierre gasly added two people

pierre gasly they didn't leave to go fuck max!

max verstappen i'm just saying it could be a possibility. we've all been waiting years for them to start dating.

esteban ocon doesn't she have a boyfriend?

pierre gasly non, ils ont rompu, je pense (no, they broke up, i think)

mae jones translation? pierre gasly google translate it bitch mae jones you know what you french fuck baguette, joan of arc is still more famous than you AND SHE'S BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES!!

max verstappen PIERRE FUCKING GASLY IF YOU FUCKING ADDED LECLERC I'M CRASHING INTO YOU NEXT WEEK

natalia ruiz is pierre talking shit again?

max verstappen EVEN WORSE YOU ADDED NATALIA?

natalia ruiz no, it's just not fair right? max verstappen i hate you. natalia ruiz and yet i was still your first kiss charles leclerc WHAT?! mae jones excuse me?

daphne jones can you guys shut up? for once? i can't have a moment of peace in the studio because my phone keeps blowing up.

natalia ruiz I'M GONNA GO SCREAM IN A PILLOW

charles leclerc please don't.

esteban ocon are you two together?

natalia ruiz i slept over. we didn't fuck. pierre gasly yet.

pierre gasly also, i feel like we should circle back to the natalia was max's first kiss thing. how did that happen? when did that happen? where did it happen?

max verstappen as mae says, i plead the fifth

natalia ruiz we were 12, and it was a dare. momma didn't raise a bitch

natalia ruiz well, she didn't raise me but you guys get what i mean

daniel ricciardo ah, trauma dumping, a skill this friend group is excellent at, welcome to the club.

max verstappen NO! DON'T DO THAT SHIT! THEY ARE NOT WELCOME!

sebastian vettel max, behave.

carlos sainz this is why we call you dad seb. you act like one.

natalia ruiz oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.

charles leclerc i am now deaf in one ear. she has really strong lungs.

esteban ocon i figure we should let her knew lewis and fernando are also in this group chat. to get all of the screaming out at once.

charles leclerc well fuck you for that esteban. my ears are ringing.

charles was fucked and apparently a good liar. he remembered everything from last night, from the first drink he had to the first kiss he shared with natalia. he was far from sober last night, but for some fucked up reason he remembered everything. charles didn't have the same luck as natalia, he just couldn't forget. and oh, how badly he wanted to forget, lorenzo had been right, falling for your best friend was never going to work out. it was times like these where he desperately wished his papa and jules were still around, they always knew what to say.

everyone around him always told him he was a shit liar, but hah! he had just proved them all wrong (take that pierre and george!) charles had effectively lied to his best friend right in her face and she hadn’t suspected a thing. apparently he had been thinking too hard because natalia sat next to him and he hadn’t noticed. charles wasn't even sure how they were functioning in the same space after what had occured between them this morning, rather late last night.

she sighed, trying to get his attention, charles turned to glance at her, saying nothing. natalia rolled her eyes and huffed, this time charles felt inclined to speak.

“what?” charles asked. she shrugged, “i don’t know, i feel weird.”

“do not tell me-” natalia’s eyes widened realizing what he was implying, “no charles! that’s not how it works. it’s been barely 24 hours or less!”

“i’m a man!” he shouted back, “i don’t know how that works!”

“oh my god,” natalia laughed. she sat back before turning her body to face charles, “kiss me.”

“quoi?” the monegasque questioned. she shrugged again, “i don’t know. maybe it’s because i know what we did and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about why on earth i would sleep with my best friend.”

“so… you want me to kiss you?”

“yes, maybe then i’ll remember why.”

“i’m not going to kiss you,” charles argued.

“what? why not?” natalia asked, “i’m a great kisser! i won’t bite, i swear!”

“you bit louis when we were 16,” charles reminded.

“because he was a horrible kisser and he liked garlic a bit too much.”

charles grimaced and opened his mouth to reply before natalia rolled her eyes him, grabbing him by the shirt of his collar and pulling in for a kiss. he reciprocated quickly, and after about a minute, natalia pulled away. charles stared at her, wondering what her next move would be.

she cocked her head to the side, “no, i still don’t get it.”

“get what?”

“why?”

charles quickly realized what she meant and replied, “we were drunk?”

“i would’ve done it sober,” natalia dismissed.

charles was shocked, that was a new revelation to him, “you would?”

“of course,” she quickly replied, “i would kiss you sober because what if a crazy fan was trying to kiss you? or what if a crazy ex wanted to kiss me?”

“right,” charles dejectedly replied. he stood up, “i’m going to take a nap.”

natalia stood up after him, grabbing his hand as he walked away, “was it the kiss? je suis désolée (i’m sorry) i wasn’t thinking and-”

charles interrupted her, pulling her closer and kissing her, natalia reciprocated. charles pulled away, placing his hand on her hips, there was tension between them, “tell me to stop and i will. i would never-”

it was her turn to cut him off, “don’t, don’t stop.”

green eyes met brown, not an ounce of regret seemed to be held in either of them. natalia waited for him to kiss her again. would this potentially ruin their friendship? absolutely, but neither of them cared, not right now. not when they only needed one thing, and one thing only, each other.

“why?” charles whispered, not daring to break their bubble.

“why not?” she argued.

“but it could-”

“i don’t care,” natalia says, “i trust you and you’re my best friends. i’d rather it be you then someone else i met at a bar. someone i don’t care about.”

“it’s going to change everything,” charles argued back.

“you’re schedule is about to be even worse because you’re driving for ferrari next season, you won’t have time for a relationship. i don’t want a shitty one night stand with a stranger or a relationship right now. it’s a win win for us.”

charles opened his mouth to argue again, but natalia has had enough, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. she pulled away first, breathing heavily, “do you want me to stop?”

“merde,” charles whispered, “non,” he decided after he paused to think about it, “s'il te plaît, ne t'arrête pas.” (shit, no. please, don’t stop.)

“okay,” she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss, both of them proceeding to lose each other in between charles’ sheets, not an ounce of regret. years later, they’ll both realize they were fucking idiots in love who disguised it as a friends with benefits relationship.

they both lay breathless in his bed between the sheets, she lays her head on his chest, and he pulls her close. they should’ve known then, it was never just sex for either of them. it was never was just going to be just sex.

“just sex?” she asks him.

charles, despite a broken heart quickly realized it was better to have a small part of natalia, than no part of her, “just sex,” he whispered, “this doesn’t change anything does it?”

natalia looks up at him, doe eyes looking at him, “no,” she replied, holding up her left pinky, like when they were children, “best friends?”

“pour toujours,” charles answers, interlacing their pinkies. (forever)

the were truly fucked from the start. if only they had realized it from the moment their lips first touched, maybe things would've gone differently for them. but would it truly? they had always loved each other, one way or another, they would end up in a similar situation.

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strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! y'all I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT! hence why i skipped that whole thing entirely. but yay, first part of this series is finally out! this story does begin in 2018, right after charles was announced to be driving for ferrari in the 2019 season and then jumps to 2019.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[darlingofvalyria]

As lovers, you and Aegon were the best. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst. But he can't help himself, and you're powerless to your own desires. A Halloween Party, more than hard liquor, and glances that attempts to stifle stares of want— everything comes to a catalyst.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ INTOXICATED, DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,359 ] [ masterlist ] | Modern!AU Aegon Targaryen II x F!Reader

contains— smut, angsty - exes to lovers, frat parties, college au!, possessive, cheating (not you or aeg), intoxication - messy sex for the messy exes, sorta toxic if you squint - petnames: sweet angel, sweet girl, sweetheart - mention of drug usage, slight hint addiction - nsfw: fingering, overstimulation, marking, dubcon + enthusiastic agreement, degradation, praise kink, dom!aeg— dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink if you squint, creampie - no betas.

a/n— hopefully this works for the request! it's a little... sadder and smuttier, but hey! ahahah! this is why i don't do daily kinktober. as an overwriter, it's just not possible to be quick jsdhjsh. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

It starts with, "Don't look, it's your ex."

And you pause. You freeze. You physically feel the adrenaline course through each and which way vein in your system, finding the end of your epidermis and hairline. It's a lot and you still have yet to land your eyes on him. The punch you've been offered not long ago that's slowly been condensing between your fingers register in your brain as cold, a drink, alcoholic— that you toss your head back and chug.

You sputter and choke afterward, your friend slamming her hand on your back in sympathy. "F-fuck. That's gross."

"Dude," she nervously giggles. "I don't think you were supposed to throat shot that."

"It tastes chemical, like chugging a nuclear reactor. I don't recommend it either." You exchange each hand to wipe the wetness on your skirt and holding your glass, trying to settle your nerves. "Where is he?"

"Got waylaid by two frat brothers, Dumb and Dumber, I think... think he's chatting up— yep, Frat President, with... an Olsen Twin on his lap. Fuck. I'm sorry, bestie."

You try to laugh but it comes out strangled. Because of course. Aegon is a pretty comet who streaks by, just as pretty and just as infrequent, coming to pass like a godly miracle and people just devours him.

Because he's Aegon, always the shiniest star, the bestest friend, somehow everyone's first something. First kiss, first messy hookup, first 'and he did this thing with his tongue, oh my gods, I saw five stars and the moon!', etcetera.

You aren't his first love and you sure as shit aren't going to be his first heartbreak. You wonder how many heartbreaks it'll be tonight; there's a running tally of three heartbreaks within one party, a fantastical rumour, a proud, mysogynistic chidding between male friends— before you got together with him, before your sphere ever clashed with Aegon Targaryen when he too was just a comet to you, a moon, an asteroid— always on orbit but always outside, unknown to the taste of his lips when he giggles between kisses, nor the pretty sighs when your fingers find the bulge in his pants.

Fuck. You're getting teary and you're in your first Halloween party since breaking up with Aegon. You got dressed up and had gotten your makeup done by your more creative friend.

You need to stop wasting emotions and cruelly painful thoughts for the star haired boy.

"Fuck it. Where's the hard drugs?"

Your friend snorts. "I'm not letting you do hard drugs. I am going to do very nice grass with you from very nice people on the sofa already hallucinating."

"Fine. But we're doing shots."

Aegon didn't see you the first time he arrived, but he will always, always find you in a crowd.

It's your laughter that triggers it this time, a sound embedded in his bones that he turns like a dog at the sound, as if finding his master. And then you're there, loose and happy, his heart stuttering at the pure joy and fun in your face, in your body, as you swayed slightly the beat, holding a freshly emptied shot glass.

He swallows. Fuck. You're still so pretty.

Your makeup is done sharper, your lips glossy and bright— a cherry red. His mouth watering when you pout dramatically at your friend, the pulsing lights caressing every dip and bow, every curve and edge of you. Your hair is loose, framing your face with a fake, paper halo over your head that sparkles in glitter, matching the body glitter across your shoulders and collarbones, even the peeks of your thighs under the white, silk dress that, with a jump in his throat, has his cock standing at attention.

He knows that dress.

He remembers the ghostly echoes of the lace detailing atop your chest, how it feels under his palms when he skates his hand over to squeeze your tits, the feel of the silk against his stomach when you lean over his body as your pussy flutters, clenching, while you roll and grind against him, trying to find pleasure—

"Fucking hell," he downs the punchy, mysterious liquid that's just straight vodka with rum, soda and strawberry syrup (absolutely disgusting but good enough for college students on a Friday), because he's fucking hard, and you're just there, oblivious, dancing, looking gorgeous, and his heart is aching. You're everything he's ever want, desired and should have kept better care for— fuck all the arguments, all the fights, all the stupid little reasons that he can't remember anymore why you two broke up —

And his stare is heated, penetrative, because the next thing he knows you're looking back at him. A thread of swallowing gaze, of empty thought but the baseborn sound of a Halloween party and two people who can't look away. Their past is twisted between them, their future uncertain, but their present is here and the want is certain.

The shared heat is gone when a hand is on his shoulder and he is forcibly turned. Qoren Martell shakes his head, lips turned down.

"No, dude. That's a bad idea."

And Aegon smirks because that's what's expected of him. His fingers tingle as he clench and unclench them. He can't be seen mooning over an ex.

"Not if she wants it."

It's a douchebag reply, an Aegon Second of His Name reply, but Qoren knows him better than that, even Jason who's not even looking at him, staring at Solana who was grinding against some frat bro from Beta Theta while staring directly at him.

Aegon snorts when Qoren smacks Jason's head.

"So that's why you didn't bring Johanna, you fucker." Aegon takes another beer, itching for the paraphernalia hot in his pocket. You've turned away and the itch is back, low but steady.

Jason shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am not babysitting both of you, motherfucks," Qoren mutters. "You're both responsible of your mistakes tonight I'm meeting Somi tomorrow and neither of you messy fuckers are going to ruin that for me, alright?" With that, he slaps a hand on both of their backs, making Jason curse as his beer spills.

When Aegon watches Qoren leave, he turns back to you and see you're already staring, irises too wide, full lips slightly open, and the thrum of heat, nice and striking, runs down his body.

He's going to fuck you. Or you're going to fuck him. It's set in stone, written in fate's ink. When you move away, his stare hooked on you, he smirks the moment you turn back to see if he's still watching, starving, and cocking your head as if asking,

Not going to follow?

But of course he does, it's you and him.

It doesn't start with a kiss. It's a hungry stare meeting in a bathroom mirror spotted by dry water, and he knows what you need, taking your hair in his hand as he stands beside you, tugging you toward him as a gasp leaves your lips, your hands winding to his hips, anchoring yourself.

"How much have you had?" he asks, moving his hand to your neck, stroking the edge of your jaw, watching your wet lashes and licking lips. "Come on, sweet angel." His other hand moves to the edge of your white silk, running his nails across your thighs.

"Does it matter? I want you." A breathy whimper leaves your lips as his mouth latches on your neck, tugging your hair to the side to start sucking bruises as his hand finds your panties and a groan rips out of him.

"You're this wet, sweet angel? All for me?"

"I was grinding on, hhh— Jon, don't flatter your—" You yelp, a sounding slap on your wet cunt and your wetness clings to his hand. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens, cupping your centre with his thick hand.

"This is my pussy," he hums sweetly, cheekily, but you know better. Aegon got sweeter when he was jealous. He smiled brighter when he got angry. He goaded when he hears warning in someone's voice. Daring them. Daring you. "How fucking dare you let someone— Snow, that creepy, depressed asshole, really, sweetheart? — my pussy?"

A flash of heat in your eyes meets his mullish blue gaze. Heat and hurt. "We've broken up, Aeg. You don't get to own me."

His heart thrums, head swimming— but not much as yours. You don't do drugs as hard as him, and you've been hitting something tonight. Your irises are wider, blacker even when you're turned on. You kept wetting your lips even as slick already covers your gloss. With a hum, he thrusts two of his fingers inside without preamble and you keen, arching against him as he kept a steady, fast pace, using the meat of his palm every few chuckles to rub your clit until your leg shakes.

"F-fuck, fuck, Aeg—" Your hands hold onto him for dear life as you feel your orgasm tide but he doesn't let up, continues his humming with his fingers, his mouth sucking your neck until you feel slobbered through the haze, until it starts to hurt with your overstimulation, forming bruises continually sucked on— and you cum again, too fast and too painful the second time. Pushed rather than pulled into the peak and he coos as he slows once you start crying out, tears in your eyes, mouth agape, patting your pussy and even you can hear the squelch.

His last pat is more of a slap, making you jolt and wail.

He smiles as he meets your watery gaze in the mirror, leaning back against the tiled wall to pull your skirt up, bracing you against his knee so you can see your wet and abused fluffy folds.

"What'd I tell you, darling? This is mine. Even she recognises me when you couldn't. For being an angel, you sure do got a mean streak."

You sniffle, nodding along in your hazy mind. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, Aeg."

"Aw, it's okay, only hurt my heart a little." He gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, fingers running down the wet path of freshly forming bruises on your neck. "I've missed you s'all."

"Me too. I-I've missed you too, baby," you say, eyes burning as you blink at the sincerity, smile turning a little softer, more real. "Wanna feel you."

"You already did, sweets, you did well too. How many special grass have you had?"

"Just okay." You twist in his hold, his knee straightening as you turn to him with your hands on his chest, looking up, pouting. "But I want you."

His cock throbs and you feel it against your thigh, but his face remains neutral, tinged with amusement as if he doesn't want to hoist you and fuck you into oblivion.

"It seems such the angel has forgotten her manners." He presses his thumb against your lip until he pushes it deeper, pressing it against your tongue before letting you suck on it, lashes fluttering.

"That's not what we say when want something. Use your words properly, baby," he mock, heat sizzling inside you, cunt throbbing. Though pleasing him has always been how your dynamic works, enjoying the way your mind blanks, filled only with the desire to be his sweet girl, his good girl while he relishes in dominating you.

Physically manhandling you was one thing, puppeteering your wants to mould his was another.

Loss of control was a soft tissue in Aegon's armour. And though you had gotten close, he had never opened up that part of him.

It was one of the reasons you broke up.

Your intoxicated-addled mind comprehends that, to a level, this is bad, but b, he's close, distracting you with his presence, his thumb on your mouth a familiar action, and you never get just one orgasm from Aegon so it doesn't linger long. The thought vanishes like a salt-licked ghost from a too recent past before you're holding on his hand and you're smiling sweetly.

"I want you to feel good too, Aeg," you whisper. "I want your cock inside me."

And he smiles— won, lost, who knows anymore. "There she is."

The next events are truly hazy. All you can remember is that he's close, closer than he's been in months, in you and stuck to you, snapping his hips against yours while your legs are up and jelly, bunched up in his arms while you hold strong against the wall.

The world is mush of thought, tongue, and messy kisses that are more spit and moan between your familiar, favourite cock driving into you again and again. A steady, almost sweetly, rock of his hips driving into that spongy, hard part of you that makes your toes curl and the pleasure to overwhelm. There's sweat and there are tender presses of his lips on your face when you both calm down, almost too sweetly, too needy for the Aegon that you know.

But every time you're about to come down from that high, he's rocking into you again, squeezing your thighs, your tits, using the mess of your cum and his to rub against your clit, and you're gone again.

The pleasure, driven again and again, wipes your memory of the more tender words he murmurs against your skin.

"L-love you so much, baby, god, you don't know how much I've missed you."

"You cumming again? T-that's a good girl, so sweet f'me, fuck, so good."

You don't know how you got to the room the morning, but you're dry and clean and the morning is stale but not head pounding. And you wake up alone, no trace of Aegon at all.

If it wasn't for the trail of bruised kisses against your throat, the throbbing between your legs, full of shared cum when you dip a finger in— you could've said he was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a pretty little dream.

Hooking up with your ex ends with a toughened heart, too empty to cry as you read a message from him.

BLOCK HIM: i'm sorry.