#won’t draw your nose or eyes weird

[lvmimis]

i hope you all understand how hard it is for poc to trust an artist to actually take genuine care in depicting them in a culturally sensitive way because of the extra steps it takes to make sure clothing details, hair textures, skin tones, etc are done properly because so much of conventional art is geared towards white people seeing themselves in the most appealing light and no one else

so when i see it done well it makes me so happy and insane fjjfjfnf

[colouredbyd]

The Boy Is Mine

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

summary: you’re quiet by nature, content in the background, until someone pushes too far. When a girl flirts with Remus, something shifts. With one kiss and a quiet claim, you remind everyone exactly who he ( and Sirius) belong to.

warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, strong language, suggestive content, heated kiss, and public displays of affection.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: i need both Remus and Sirius at the same damn time.

masterlist

You’ve never been the loudest in the room.

You don’t need to be. Not when Sirius is tossing his head back laughing beside you, all glittering chaos and charm, or when Remus leans in close, voice low and deliberate, like every word he says is meant only for you.

They fill the space so effortlessly—Sirius with his magnetic presence, Remus with his quiet gravity—and you find yourself fitting between them like a breath between heartbeats. Steady, constant and soft.

You like watching more than speaking. Not out of shyness exactly, but because you enjoy observing—feeling everything. It’s the way Remus’s thumb circles over your knee under the table without him even realizing. The way Sirius always saves you the last bite, even when he swears he won’t. You don’t need to be loud to be loved here.

They know you. They’ve always known you.

Sirius, who pulls you into the middle of the common room and spins you in dizzy circles until you’re breathless with laughter. Remus, who presses his nose into your hair when the world feels too sharp and mumbles poetry against your skin. 

Between the two of them, you’ve never had to shout to be heard. They listen in the silence. They love you in the quiet.

But sometimes, even the quiet hums with something fierce.

And today, it’s starting to burn.

The loud music thumps through the walls, pulsing in your veins, but all you can hear is Remus’s voice rising above the chatter of the party. He’s talking to a girl, one whose name doesn’t matter.

because you’re already irritated.

Sirius is speaking beside you—his voice low and animated, probably bantering with James about something as thrillingly idiotic as who cheated in the last round of Exploding Snap—but the words barely register. They fade into the background like the bass of the music humming through the party, the way laughter spills and drips from every corner of the Gryffindor common room like syrup.

You’re curled up beside him on the leather couch, soft and familiar, half draped across his lap like you belong there, because you do. His palm is warm against your skin, fingers lazy as they trace circles over your thigh, an unconscious kind of touch that says mine without needing the word.

But your attention isn’t on Sirius.

It’s fixed—razor sharp and unblinking—on the girl across the room.

She’s all lip gloss and bright laughter, the kind of girl who doesn’t walk into a room so much as glitter through it. Her blouse is buttoned just low enough to draw the eye, her skirt just short enough to be a statement. She leans in closer to Remus like she’s in a slow-motion daydream, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she giggles at something he said.

Except Remus isn’t laughing.

He’s smiling, but you know that smile. It’s the strained one. The tight-lipped, please-don’t-make-this-weird smile he gives when someone crosses the line and he’s too damn kind to push them away.

And she—well. She’s not backing off.

Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass. Not enough to shatter it, but enough to feel it, to ground yourself before the rising tide inside you gets too high. The jealousy doesn’t burn. No, it doesn’t scream or sputter like some childish tantrum. It’s quiet. Sharp. Ice in your veins, snow behind your ribs. It’s precise.

You watch her touch his arm, watch her eyes flutter and her voice pitch just so. You watch Remus stand there with all that quiet discomfort in his shoulders and all that unnecessary politeness keeping him rooted in place.

And something inside you shifts.

You’re not the loud one at these parties. You’re not the girl who shouts or struts or demands. You’re the one who stays curled up in the lap of a boy with stardust in his smile, sipping your drink while the chaos unfurls around you. You’re the calm in their storm, the softness they return to.

But not tonight.

Because tonight, someone is trying to touch what’s yours.

And whether Remus knows it yet or not, whether that girl ever figures out just how royally she’s miscalculated, one thing is already certain.

You are about to stop being the quiet one.

“Moony’s got his fan club going tonight, huh?” Sirius says, his tone casual, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the hem of your sleeve. “I swear, every time he talks to a girl, she looks like she’s ready to devour him.”

You hum, an absent sound, not really acknowledging him. Your gaze stays fixed on Remus and that damn girl, the way she’s tossing her hair back and laughing too loudly.

“You okay, dove?” His voice drops a little, his fingers tracing the line of your spine with a slow, deliberate motion.

You want to lie. You want to say it’s fine, that you’re just tired or distracted, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you give a small shake of your head, the fluttering in your chest too strong to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, a little too quickly. “Just… thinking.”

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push. He knows you well enough to sense when you need space, but tonight, there’s something different. The energy in the room feels electric, like it’s just waiting for a spark.

Remus laughs again from across the room, and this time, the girl reaches up to touch his arm, her fingers trailing lightly along his sleeve. The sight, the sound, the way her body leans just a little too close to his, sends a pang of something sharp through you. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her lean in, her lips too close to his ear as she whispers something.

Your fingers grip the edge of the couch, your nails digging into the fabric. You feel like you’re going to snap at any moment, and you’re so sick of it.

Sirius seems to notice the shift in the air. His hand halts on your back, and he turns his head toward Remus and the girl, then back to you. His expression softens, understanding settling in. He leans forward, his voice low as he speaks, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Love, I think we’ve reached a new level here,” he says, voice laced with something almost teasing. “You’ve been staring at him for ages now.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep the fluttering in your chest under control. “I’m not staring,” you say, but even you can hear the edge in your voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? ‘Cause I think you’ve definitely been staring. You want me to go over there and break it up?”

“No,” you snap, a little too quickly, and then you freeze, realizing just how harsh you sound. You soften your tone, but the words still feel like they’re cutting you open. “I… I don’t know.”

Sirius doesn’t push you, but he watches you carefully, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

You shift uncomfortably, your gaze returning to Remus and the girl. It’s like a magnet pulling you in, the way she laughs again, her hand resting on his shoulder now, fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

The thought makes you want to scream.

You watch the girl lean in closer, her breath light against his ear as she says something you can’t hear, but you can see it in the way her lashes flutter and her lips curl. It’s an obvious flirtation, the kind of thing that would make anyone else swoon, but you just feel your stomach twist in knots. Remus gives a tight, polite smile, the one he always does when he’s too kind to be rude, but you know that smile too well. It’s a mask, a shield, and you can see right through it. He’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t stop her.

The touch lingers. And Remus—sweet, gentle, infuriating Remus—doesn’t stop her.

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t step back. He doesn’t even glance in your direction.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

Maybe he’s just being polite. Maybe he’s too soft-spoken for his own good. Maybe he thinks you don’t mind, that you’re tucked up on the couch beside Sirius, warm and safe and unbothered. Maybe he’s forgotten that while you may be quiet, you’re not blind.

But oh, you care.

You care enough that your drink is forgotten in your hand, the condensation sliding over your fingers like cold sweat. You care enough that your jaw clenches tight, the muscle ticking with a quiet fury that pulses behind your ribs. There’s a pressure building in your chest, a weight that has nothing to do with insecurity and everything to do with possession.

You’ve always known what’s yours.

And Remus?

He is yours.

The room around you begins to blur, voices fading into background noise, like someone’s turned the volume down on the rest of the party. The flickering firelight, the chatter of students, the low buzz of magical music—all of it dulls. All you can see is the way she’s looking at him, lips parted in a practiced little smile, eyes batting as if she’s never had to work hard for attention in her life.

You hear her laugh—sharp and high and entirely insincere—and it cuts through you like a blade. Remus chuckles along with her, and it’s that sound, that soft little sound of his, that makes something in your spine snap straight. His eyes catch the light just right, that familiar glint of mischief and charm you’ve seen a thousand times when he’s teasing you softly beneath the covers, and it stings more than you’d like to admit.

And suddenly, you are no longer the quiet girl curled in the corner.

You are no longer the soft one who waits patiently for your boys to come home to you.

You are standing up, not with a shout or a dramatic flourish, but with a kind of cold certainty, like the sea deciding to rise. Sirius shifts beside you instinctively, his hand brushing your back as he senses the change in the air, his voice dipping with curiosity.

“Love?” he says quietly, brows raising. “Everything alright?”

You don’t answer. Not yet.

Because your eyes are still locked on the girl in the too-tight blouse and the too-pretty smile and the entirely wrong assumption that she has any right to touch your Remus like she belongs there.

She doesn’t.

And she’s about to learn exactly why.

It never felt like you needed to compete for Remus’s attention. He had always been yours in that quiet, unspoken way—his careful gestures, the soft smiles he gave you when no one was looking, the way he always made sure you were okay, even when you didn’t ask. You had a bond, something deeper than words. But now, watching him allow her to invade that space, something inside you snaps.

She’s leaning into him like he’s already hers, one manicured hand lingering on his forearm, like she doesn’t see the slight pullback in his posture. Like she doesn’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sirius’s hand slips off your thigh, stunned. “Where’re you going?”

“To get what’s mine.” you say, and your voice is soft, sultry, but it slices through the noise like a blade.

James chokes on his drink. Lily turns, eyebrows lifting as she watches you stalk forward, hips swaying, jumper slouching off one bare shoulder. You hear someone mutter, “Bloody hell.” and you don’t even need to look to know Marlene is probably grinning like a wolf.

The girl is still touching Remus. Still laughing.

You don’t give her the chance to speak. You don’t give him a moment to explain, or to blink, or to pretend he doesn’t feel the air shift as you close the distance between you like a storm cloaked in silk.

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his jumper, curl tightly into the soft wool, and tug. Hard. Hard enough that he stumbles forward, just one step, just enough to crash into your gravity.

His eyes find yours, startled and wide, and for a heartbeat he forgets where he is. The party, the music, the girl whose perfume is still clinging to the air around him—all of it vanishes the moment your lips catch his.

It is not a kiss built from politeness or affection. It is not the kind of thing meant for privacy or delicacy.

This kiss is war.

It’s bruising and slow and devastating, like a spell whispered in the middle of a battlefield. Your hand tangles in his curls and tugs, just enough to make him gasp into your mouth. Your other hand slides down to his belt, fingers brushing over the buckle, teasing with the lightest hint of promise. You tilt your head to deepen it, your lips parting just slightly, just enough to taste him.

He groans, low and helpless, the sound caught between your mouths, and you smile against him, smug and sinful.

When you finally pull away, his lips are pink and glistening and parted like he’s about to say something but hasn’t figured out what language he speaks anymore. His hands are still hovering at your hips, and his chest is rising with uneven breath, eyes clouded with something that’s definitely not confusion.

You turn to the girl, and she looks like she’s just witnessed something religious and blasphemous at the same time. Her mouth is hanging open. Her expression is frozen in that awkward no-man’s-land between horror and disbelief.

“Oh,” you say sweetly, voice thick with honey and venom, “were you still talking? Only he seems a bit busy now.”

She blinks. Opens her mouth. Closes it. You don’t give her time to think. You trail your fingers down the front of Remus’s chest, slowly, like you’re remembering the way his body feels under your hands and enjoying every second of it. You play with the collar of his shirt, letting your nails drag across the fabric, soft and sure.

Your eyes never leave hers.

“I mean,” you go on, voice quieter now, conversational in a way that is somehow even more intimidating, “I don’t blame you. Honestly. Look at him. He’s got that whole clever boy thing going on, right? The kind of boy who knows all the answers in class and still somehow makes you want to climb into his lap and ruin his concentration. And don’t even get me started on that body—tall and lean and unfair, and the scars…” you let your fingers trail over his chest again, nails teasing the fabric, “Body built like a sin under those clothes, too bad only me and Sirius get to see it though.” 

A grin spreads across your face, wide and wicked like a cheshire cat.

Remus lets out a sound that’s definitely not family friendly and buries his face in your neck for a second, either to breathe you in or to hide the fact that he might actually combust.

James lets out a strangled sound from across the room. “What the actual hell is going on?”

Lily is watching with wide, fascinated eyes, looking between you and the girl like she’s witnessing a lioness dismantle a bunny in slow motion. Marlene, from her spot near the fireplace, raises her drink in silent toast and mutters, “Finally.”

You lean in close to Remus, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear. “But here’s the thing,” you whisper, just loud enough for the girl to still hear. 

“He’s mine.”

Then you pull back and look her dead in the eye, your gaze soft but lethal.

“And I don’t share.”

The girl blinks once. Twice. Then turns with all the grace of someone trying not to run.

Remus just stares at you for a long moment, breathless, hands still planted on your waist like he’s afraid to let go in case the earth tilts and he floats away.

“What the hell just happened?” he asks, voice low, rough, and wrecked.

Sirius appears beside you like smoke, sliding his arm around your waist as he grins like you’ve hung the bloody stars for him.

The girl’s mouth parts, clearly searching for a clever retort, something sharp or self-righteous or maybe even pathetic to claw her dignity back from the floor where you left it. But the words never come. Her lips tremble like she’s buffering. You don’t give her the chance to reboot.

Instead, with calm that borders on cruelty, you turn back to Remus and brush your lips against the corner of his mouth. Not a full kiss this time, but something quieter, more dangerous. A period at the end of a sentence she was never invited to read. 

You feel the way he freezes for just a moment, breath hitching as your fingers slide up to rest at the base of his throat, just enough pressure to remind him—and everyone watching—exactly who he belongs to.

The common room is stunned into silence. Even the portrait hole seems to creak softer, like the whole castle is holding its breath.

And then James, bless his nosy little soul, practically falls off the arm of the couch. He stares at you with something like religious awe, eyes as wide as Galleons, hand clutching his drink like a lifeline.

“That,” he says reverently, voice cracking with disbelief, “was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed. And I saw Sirius in a crop top once.”

Sirius doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s unaffected. He slumps back against the couch, one hand dragging through his hair like he’s trying to keep his brain from melting. His grin is crooked and wild, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“Merlin’s tits,” he says, almost reverent. “I think I’m in love. Again.”

Lily, sitting upright with her legs crossed like she’s hosting a panel discussion, blinks slowly. Her jaw is slightly ajar, her drink forgotten on the floor.

“Did she just… flirt and threaten simultaneously?” she asks, clearly reevaluating everything she thought she knew about you.

Marlene doesn’t even bother to hide her grin. She claps once, loud and delighted, and leans forward with sparkling eyes.

“Oh, I love her,” she announces with glee. “Someone give that girl a crown and a throne and maybe a leather corset. She just out-Slytherined the entire House.”

You don’t look away from Remus. He’s still breathless, a little dazed, his lips parted like he’s forgotten how to speak. His hands are at your waist now, gripping softly like he needs to touch you just to make sure you’re real.

You lean in, voice velvet-sweet, and say, “Now Remmy, were you going to let her keep touching you or should I start hexing?”

Sirius, meanwhile, is leaning back like a man thoroughly entertained, one arm draped across Remus’ shoulder with a love-sick gaze in his eyes.

Remus just blinks for a moment, his mouth parted, completely undone. Then a sound escapes him, surprised and delighted, something between a laugh and a groan, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him in the best way.

“I think I’m in love with you all over again,” he says, a little dazed.

And then Sirius leans over, as if conjured by the heat of the moment, slipping in behind you like gravity itself gave him no choice. His hands slide over your hips, warm and certain, like they’ve always belonged there. He leans in until his mouth brushes your neck, breath hot and voice lower than sin.

“That,” he murmurs, lips grazing your skin, “was art. You’ve officially ruined me. I’ll never recover.”

You shrug, casual as anything, but your pulse is thundering and your eyes are glowing and the adrenaline is still singing in your bones like an aria. “Good,” you say simply, and it lands like a spell.

The common room hasn’t even recovered. Conversations haven’t resumed. Heads are still tilted in your direction like they’re not quite sure what just happened, if they witnessed a declaration or a detonation. And maybe it was both. You were the quiet girl. The sweet one. The one with gentle touches and soft smiles who moved like a secret in a room full of noise.

But tonight? Tonight, they watched you stand like you were carved from something divine, watched you kiss Remus like he was yours and always had been, watched you claim your place not as an afterthought, but as a force of nature wrapped in wool and confidence.

And Remus? He’s still holding your waist like he might never let go. Sirius looks like he’d fight anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way.

Together, they look ready to tear the world apart if it means keeping you. And somehow, the quiet girl has become the storm they’d die for

[sourkiki]

INK SURPRISE.

VOL. 15: you surpised your boyfriends by getting matching tattoos of their names on. needless to say, they love it. what better way to show how much they love it by spoiling you?

wc: 2259 𑁛 explicit mature content established+threesome relationship dom! 西村力 & dom!박성훈 x sub! fem! reader non-idol au other 02z made a brief cameo pussy eating+fingering unprotected sex (wrap it up) blowjobs ⪩⪨ usage of pet names service dom! riki sunghoon's a tease here ❀ catalogue

note. fun fact: this was only supposed to have sunghoon but when i saw my twt timeline about riki potentially having a tattoo, i ranted to my moot aka @jun2ki (bless you btw) and ended up making it hoonki x reader. this is for you too, i guess... @kireilien

“I think my girlfriend doesn’t love me anymore.” 

Silence. 

Sunghoon’s sudden statement caused his friends: Jay and Jake to stop what they were doing. Jay’s hand froze in midair while holding a fork. Jake, on the other hand, was attempting to steal some of Jay’s fries. They shared a confused and bewildered look, unable to believe what they were hearing. Jay cleared his throat, lowered his fork and placed it on his plate. 

“Why? Did you two argue?” He questioned, concerned, slapping Jake’s hand without looking when he continued his attempt. Jake flinched, withdrawing his hand and rubbed the now sore spot, huffing his cheeks and muttered something inaudible under his breath. 

Sunghoon shook his head, furrowing his thick eyebrows as he recalled back. “No, we rarely argue. You know that, Jay-ah. I don’t know why but she’s been ignoring me.” 

“Ignoring you how? Like does she pretend you don’t exist or?” Jake chimed in. 

“We don’t fuck anymore,” he deadpanned and Jay picked the wrong time to take a sip of his drink, only for him to end up choking. Jake scrunched his nose, disgust written all over his face. 

“And to think we’re worried because something actually happened but no, it’s just your hornyass who can’t go without having sex for a month,” the eldest deadpanned after recovering from his near-death experience. 

“This is a serious matter to me! You don’t know what it’s like to go without sex for a month!” Sunghoon complained, lightly knocking his head against the table. His slight raise of volume caused the nearby students to shoot them a weird and judgemental look, to which his friends were embarrassed by, on his behalf. 

“Have you talked to Riki about this?” Jake asked, regaining his composure. 

Sunghon huffed, raising his head and resting his cheek on the palm of his left hand. “Yeah, he’s just as confused as I am.”

Again, his friends shared a look. “Well, whatever it is, I hope you guys can figure it out. You know what they say, communication is key.”

“Not the time for your smartass words, Jake.”

“Jay, please just shut the fuck up.”

~

Unknown to your two, sweet beloved boyfriends, you were doing this for a reason. It’s a surprise for them and you didn’t want to ruin it. Which was why you had only told your shared group of friends except for Sunghoon and Riki. You could only pray that Jake won’t ramble his mouth off, considering how he has the tendency to spill secrets. Right now, you’re seated by the dining table in your dorm as you worked on your report that’s due by the end of the week. You weren’t sure how many hours had passed, drawing a long, heavy sigh from you as you removed your glasses to rub your temples, groaning in frustration. 

“Baby? You alright?” 

Looking over your shoulder, your features softened to see Riki closing the door behind him, his bag casually hanging over his left shoulder. You didn’t get up as he was quick to be by your side. He cupped your face, thumbs running along the skin underneath your eyes. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, burying your face in his stomach.

“What happened to your dance class?” You asked, voice muffled. 

“It got cancelled. The water pipe in the practice room bursts and they need two weeks to fix it,” he replied, unable to help himself as he squished your cheeks until your lips were fully puckered. 

“Riki!” You whined, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend. He ducked his head, planting a kiss on your forehead. The small display of affection was enough to turn your face red as compared to Sunghoon, Riki prefers to shower you with love behind closed doors. 

“Sorry, you’re too cute,” he apologized but the tone he used said otherwise. He looked at your laptop, curiosity shown on his face on the bright screen. “How long have you been working on your report?” 

“Uh, a few hours?” You answered meekly, averting your eyes in shame when he arched an eyebrow at you. 

“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we, hm? You shouldn’t be pushing yourself too hard,” he clicked his tongue, lightly poking your forehead, eliciting a whine from you. 

“I’m sorry. I really need to finish it and I’ve been busy working on my other projects too,” you sighed. 

Riki coos. “Aw, poor baby. Let me take care of you, please?” 

You nodded, squeaking when he easily lifted you up, like you weighed nothing. It was by instinct that you wrapped your arms around him, like a koala bear as he brought you to the bedroom. Riki gently placed you down, only for him to capture your lips in a needy, intense kiss—the contrast giving you whiplash. You gasped when he teasingly nipped at your bottom lip, giving him the chance to slide his tongue as he explored your mouth with one, thorough lick. It’s enough to make you feel all tingly, your strength leaving your body as you let him do as he pleased. 

His hands began working on removing your clothes but he paused when he realized you were wearing his hoodie. It completely engulfs you with the hem reaching your thighs. Riki swore when he also realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath the hoodie and shorts. 

“You’re such a tease, aren’t you? Wearing nothing but my clothes,” he groaned against your lips, hand making itself at home between your legs, drawing a breathless mewl from you. 

“You’re already dripping wet for me. Looks like someone’s needy,” he purrs, about to push your hoodie up when a voice interrupts the two of you. 

“What’s this? Starting without me? How cruel.”

You turned to the door where Sunghoon was, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Despite the laid-back tone, you could tell he was barely holding himself back, with how his eyes darkened as he took in your current state. You whined, barely able to speak as you made grabby hands at him. Sunghoon softened as he entered the bedroom, sitting behind you while Riki remained in between your legs. Sunghoon lifted you up, placing you on his lap with you leaning against his chest. He rested his large, warm hands on your thighs, holding you down when Riki lowered himself to his elbows.

“Shh, just relax and let us take care of you,” Sunghoon murmured into your ear, planting kisses along the expanse of your neck. 

Riki pushed the hoodie up and up, only for him to freeze, gaining Sunghoon’s attention. What they saw took their breaths away.

They stared at the tattoo—their names, imprinted on both sides of your hips, just above your hip bones. Their minds blanked out as Riki’s hand brushed against it, sending shivers down your spine. You, on the other hand, were nervous. You didn’t expect them to find out this early as you wanted to wait until you’ve fully recovered. 

“..Is this why you’ve been avoiding us?” Sunghoon asks in awe. 

You squirmed about on his lap, unable to face either of them. “I wanted this to be a surprise. Does it look bad?” 

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, turning your chin towards him. “No, it doesn’t. And considered us getting surprised. We didn’t expect you to do this. But, we like it.” 

You glanced at Riki, who nodded his head. He didn’t give you time to react, licking a long, flat stripe along your dripping folds. You visibly flinched, instinctively trying to close your legs but Sunghoon was faster. He tightened his grip, nails digging into your thighs, forcing you to remain still. In an attempt to distract you, he kisses you, eagerly swallowing your sounds while Riki eats you out, like a man on a mission. 

You outright whined at the feeling of Riki sliding three fingers in, pumping them at a slow pace while Sunghoon had reached down, spreading your pussy lips apart, granting the younger to slide his fingers deeper in. 

“F-Fuck, ngh, t-too much,” you panted, blindly reaching out with your hands as you grabbed onto a fistful of Riki’s hair while your other hand grabbed onto Sunghoon’s wrist, the very same wrist that’s spreading you apart for the younger. 

“Too much? But your body says otherwise,” Riki chuckled, thumb gently pressing down on your clit, laughing at how you whined at the mere contact, hips jerking up but he withdrew his thumb, fingers still inside you. 

You realized through your blurry state that while your two boyfriends are still fully clothed, you were completely bare. The huge contrast shows the type of roles the three of you have in your relationship. Your ears registered the rustling sounds of the sheets behind you and the next thing you knew, Sunghoon had lifted you off his lap and placed you on the sheets. You whined at the lack of warmth but he was quick to soothe you by running his hand through your hair. 

“Open up, princess,” he softly demands, now standing near the bed with his sweatpants and boxers lowered, just enough to free his hardened cock. The sight made your mouth water and you parted your lips, jaw slackening as you let Sunghoon gently pull you forward until your head was dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“Hyung, I’m busy here,” Riki whines, sending the older a light-hearted glare and you would have cooed, if Sunghoon didn’t push his cock into your mouth. 

Your eyes widened, tears blurring your vision as he continued until the tip hit the back of your throat. Just like Riki, Sunghoon didn’t give you time to breathe, moving his hips in a lazy pace as he fucks your mouth. You tried your best to keep up, tongue darting along the girth as you traced the outline of his veins protruding but it was easier said than done. You couldn’t focus, not when Riki had detached his mouth from your pussy. Heck, you weren’t even aware that you had come undone, thanks to Riki’s skillful tongue. 

His chin and lips glistened underneath the light, covered in a thick layer of your slick. Riki wiped them away with the back of his hand, fumbling to tug his sweatpants and boxers down. He scooped the goop dripping from your pussy, using it to lube his cock. Riki grabbed your left leg, tossed it over his shoulder and pushed it in one go. You couldn’t moan, not when your mouth’s full of cock and could only let out a high-pitched, muffled sound. 

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Riki rasped, hands drawing circles on your hips. 

“Poor princess. Can’t even speak,” Sunghoon coos, faux sweetness evident in his voice as he looks down at you, smirking at your teary eyes staring back at him. 

Riki begins thrusting into you. The bedroom was filled with the loud, lewd and obscene squelching sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, rearranging your insides to the shape of his cock. Sunghoon, on the other hand, groaned at his incoming climax. He didn’t warn you, spilling his cum down your throat. You gagged but managed to swallow them all and he pulled out from your now swollen, bruised lips with an audible ‘pop’ sound. 

Now that your mouth’s empty, you were able to let out the sounds you’ve been holding back. 

“R-Riki, fuck, p-please,” you whined, throwing one arm over to shield your eyes when you realized how Sunghoon was merely watching, like you’re putting on a show for him and only him. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum? Wanna let Riki know how good he’s making you feel?” Sunghoon asks, now sitting on the edge of the bed, glancing at Riki, who understood his intentions and stopped thrusting, allowing Sunghoon to manhandle you, returning to your position—you sitting on his lap. 

Riki had to shuffle closer, sliding his cock back in and this time, he pounds into you with newfound determination. The determination to make you cum for the second time. Sunghoon leaned down, angling your head towards his to kiss you. You felt like you were being tortured, your senses on overdrive as your two boyfriends showered you with nothing but love and affection. 

“Ngh, gonna cum, gonna cum,” you cried out, breaking the kiss. Your head dipped backwards until it landed on Sunghoon’s shoulders, eyelids fluttering shut. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, princess,” Riki coaxes and you came with a high-pitched moan, chanting his name like a prayer. 

Your thighs trembled from the intensity of your climax, body going pliant as you slumped against Sunghoon’s chest. A soft whine left your lips when you felt Riki spilling deep inside you, making you feel full of his cum. You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath while Riki slowly pulled out. 

“Wha-!?” You squeaked when your vision turned upside down. 

You gulped at the sight of Sunghoon now hovering over you. Glancing down, your breath hitched to see him aligning his cock against your sensitive entrance. You wanted to push him away, protests forming at the tip of your tongue but Riki was faster. He was instantly behind you, pinning your wrists behind your back as he rested his head on your right shoulder. 

“Ah ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. We did say we’ll take good care of you, didn’t we, hyung?” He murmured, directing the last sentence to Sunghoon.

He nodded, eyes darkening a shade. “Yea, so you better prepare yourself, princess. Because we’re not stopping until we’re satisfied.”

tags list: @chuhees, @byshens, @hoonstqr, @doucious, @emisluvr, @riqomi, @onlyywwon, @jjung-v, @minjunis, @rikisoup, @i-love-hannah-more-than-chan.

[lemonlover1110]

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: You make sure to decorate your boyfriend's cast, a stupid task if you ask him.

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Content

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You hum to yourself as you color in the hearts of your drawing. Your blank canvas: your husband’s cast. Sukuna stares at you, pure boredom in his eyes as you draw on his arm. He sighs, making it clear that he wants you to finish up soon.

“That won’t make me go any faster.” You tell him, grabbing a pink sharpie to give the cast some color. He clicks his tongue.

“Can’t have my arm. Can’t have my freedom.” He complains, acting as if you’re holding him hostage.

“Use your phone.” You tell him, adding more doodles to your canvas. By the end of this, it’ll look like a child took control over Sukuna’s injury. 

“Can’t type shit with one hand.” He says, making you roll your eyes. Just a whiny baby all around, but what else did you expect from Sukuna? You’ve taken care of him during flu season, you know what you’re in for.

“Sukuna, I didn’t tell you to get into a fight.” You tell him, grabbing a highlighter to give your artwork a pop. He really should stop you before he has to stare at a walking headache for months, but he doesn’t have the energy to.

“I was defending you.” He points out, earning a glare from you. He ends up muttering, “I guess he wasn’t staring at you like that.”

“You guess? The dude ended up being gay, if anything he was checking you out.” You argue, and Sukuna huffs. “You have to stop being so jealous, Suku. Next time it won’t be three guys but a whole crowd jumping you and you won’t be able to handle it.”

“I fought off three guys, didn’t I?” He replies, and you roll your eyes. Yes, but he ended up with a broken arm. It’s not a good argument, but you won’t go back and forth with him. 

You grab another marker, uncapping it and bring it up to your nose. He furrows his brows, and before he can ask about your weird attitude, you bring it up to his nose and order, “Sniff.”

“What? Is there cocaine in there?” Sukuna asks before he sniffs, smelling the grape scent. Once you know he’s smelled it, you continue to doodle on his arm. “Great, now it’ll smell like fake grapes.”

“When will you stop complaining?” You stick your tongue out at him.

“Give me a hand. My left one is useless.” He suggests, and you furrow your brows. You’re truly confused.

“What do you mean? You broke your right arm.” You point out before you notice a stupid smirk on his face. That’s the moment it clicks. “I’m not jerking you off because you misjudged a situation.”

“When I told you to give me a hand, I didn’t necessarily mean a hand. You have other assets.” He says, making you click your tongue. 

“Tough luck, pass me the green.”

[moonstruckme]

MAE!!! I'M HERE TO OFFICIALLY SPAM YOUR INBOX WITH REQUESTS (and no you don't have to answer all of them)

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 8K!!!

And first I would like to order a hot cocoa with James Potter and First Snow

Once again, massive congrats, Mae!!! Here’s to even more milestones (and my spam, of course)!

Thank you lovely <33

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 451 words

You’ve been up for hours by the time James rouses. 

You’d woken in the middle of night to peer outside, pulling open the curtains when you saw the snow blanketing your neighborhood. You had every intention of enjoying the peaceful view for a few minutes before you fell back asleep, except the peaceful view proved too exciting for you to drift off again. You’ve been half dozing while you’ve watched, mesmerized, as the pile outside your window has grown and the sun has come up. 

James reaches over and pulls you back into his chest with a warm, sleepy sound. You rub his forearm affectionately. 

His nose nudges behind your ear, cold. “Y’awake?” he mumbles. 

“Mhm.” 

He tugs at your hip, and you roll over, trading one view for another. James’ eyes are squinty and unfocussed the way they always are before he puts his glasses on in the mornings, his dark curls poofy on one side and crushed against his pillow on the other. He draws a line up your side with his palm. 

“It’s early for you, lovie.” 

You smile. You’re so happy your cheeks almost hurt. “It’s snowing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” James props himself up on an elbow to look over you out the window, then turns around to reach for his glasses when he can’t see anything. For reasons unbeknownst to you, watching your boyfriend adjust the bridge with his middle finger will never become less endearing. He blinks, taking in the scene outside. “Woah.” 

“Right?” You’re giddy. “It’s been going for hours.” 

“Looks like it,” James says, but his eyes are on you. He smiles adoringly. You kiss the uptilt corner of his lips on a whim, and it tilts further. “This is weird for me,” he admits. “Usually it’s me who wakes up first and has to try to get you out of bed.” 

“Who says I’m trying to get you out of bed?” 

He cups your cheek, squeezing. “You want to go out in the snow,” he says knowingly. 

You bite down on your lip in hopes of suppressing it, but your smile is unmistakably sheepish. James laughs, kissing you. 

“Give me just a second, angel.” He sits up, raising his arms above him in a stretch. 

“We can cuddle for a while first,” you offer. 

James looks at you. “You won’t be too eager to go?” 

You shake your head mutely. 

“Really? Because I was thinking that if I make cocoa now and let it simmer on the stove, it’ll be hot when we come back in.” 

You throw off the covers, going to find your clothes. “Good point. There’ll be plenty of time for cuddling later.” 

James laughs as he follows you up.

[deadhands69]

Nightclub

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

quick read (sub 1k) // borderline suggestive?

Imagine going out drinking with Tomura Shigaraki when the league has a night off and everyone else wanted to stay in. It’s weird, at first, seeing him out of the house like this. You’re shocked he agreed to leave the hideout at all, but with how close he’s stayed to you all night you’re starting to think he just wanted to spend time together. 

Dressed all in black, he looks so out of place in the loud, borderline tacky club. But you have to admit there’s something cute about it. Like he’s the only real thing here. Besides, the otherwise brash rainbow lights look beautiful flickering over his pale skin. Has he always been this gorgeous? How have you not noticed?

With the space heating up, he ditches the giant jacket revealing a thin black v-neck and… Holy fuck, his arms. The few drinks you have in you spark an uncharacteristic boldness. You need to touch them. Moving around the tiny high top table, you drag your fingertips over his surprisingly soft skin. He lets you, but not without blushing. Looking away slightly, he bites his lip then mumbles “you’re drunk” close enough to your face that you can feel his breath on your lips. You roll your eyes in response. His mouth curls into a smirk and you try to remember if he’s always looked at you this softly. 

Wrapping your hand fully around his bicep, you pull him into the crowd. 

“Dance with me,” you murmur into his ear. Amazingly, he follows. Settling into the edge of the crowd, you turn to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer. His palms meet your hips. It's more of a sway than a dance, but you don't mind. Burying your face in the crook of his shoulder, your mouth connects gently with his collar bone. Kissing your way up until you reach his jaw. Opening your eyes, you see that he's breathing as hard as you are. 

He gazes at you for a moment, before moving back in. His rough lips graze yours in a way that feels too soft for your surroundings. He tastes like vodka and redbull. His soft shirt has the lingering scent of soap and something like leaves on the fall, but sweeter. Everything about him draws you further in. The world spins around making you feel alone together in a room filled with people. His hands move up to your waist, continuing to sway with you to the uptempo music blaring through the speakers nearby. 

He pulls back slightly, nose brushing against yours before he presses your foreheads together. For a moment he stays here. Eyes closed, arms wrapped around you, simply enjoying the closeness. He wants to tell you how happy he is to be here with you. That he’s wanted this for ages. He wants you to know you can have him any time you want without the expensive drinks and all the time you spent getting ready.

But he won’t say it.

Instead, he kisses you again. Pouring every ounce of himself into it and hoping you feel the same. 

masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

@venom-barf  @shiiigaraki @thetinas21 @spam-1 @kitkat13001

 @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @love-for-yoosung-kim @xytraxpy

@kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16 @thesecond2demonking

[skeltnwrites]

A/N: I think this is the first time I've ever been so emotional about something I've written 😭 this hit a little too close to home for me

Summary: You help Eddie wash his hair when he can't. | 0.9k words

TW: depression, best friend!reader

“Nooo,” Eddie whines, voice muffled by blankets. “Stop– Seriously!” 

Your grip around his ankle only tightens from where you’ve fished it out of his cocoon. You tug, ripping his sock off in the process, until he’s halfway off the couch, clinging onto a cushion like his life depends on it. 

“You’re so annoying,” he slumps into a sitting position on the floor, eyes peaking out of the fold in his comforter. 

You crouch in front of your best friend. “Yes, but you love me.” 

He leans away when you peel the corner of the blanket away. He’s pale, which is typical, but it’s summer and he looks borderline vampirish with how visible his veins are. A palm brushes his bangs back to meet the knot secured to his crown. He bends away from your touch a second time. 

“Hair’s greasy,” he mumbles; a weak excuse, like you’d ever care about that. 

“I can wash it for you,” you offer seriously. 

His lips tilt into a sort of smile and his brows knit together, “What? Like in the sink?” 

“If you want?” 

He hums, “Prolly uncomfortable.” 

“Okay, in the shower then.”

A real smile this time. “If you want to see me naked just say that.” 

You punch his shoulder lightly. Normally you’d shove him hard without a second thought, and he’d probably push back equally, but it feels wrong to do so when you know he won’t put up a fight. “You can put swim trunks on.”

“I don’t feel like changing.”

“Okay, then in this.” You pinch the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. 

“That’s a little weird.”

“Since when do you care about weird?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, “I guess. If you want.” 

In the bathroom, you turn the shower knob, “Hot or cold?” 

“Warm.” He’s slumped on the toilet lid in his pajamas, having ditched the duvet in the hall. 

“Okay, here.” You whisk the curtain open fully. 

He shoots you a look that says, ‘Am I really doing this?’ before stepping into the tub. His eyes widen when you climb in right after him.

“You’re crazy,” he grins and it makes your heart leap. You’ve missed the way his eyes crinkle at the edges and his lashes kiss the tips of his cheeks when he smiles. 

“Not as crazy as you.” You hook a finger under his scrunchie, gently working it until his curls spill over his shoulders. 

He sighs, eyes drawing shut when you tilt his head back. His clothes are already soaked through, clinging to his slender frame like a second skin. He blocks most of the stream but stray droplets catch your arms where they connect with his head.  

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask, massaging shampoo through his hairline. “I could go for some takeout right about now.” 

He blinks at you. “I know what you’re doing.”

You crane his head to the side to scrub his nape, “I’m not doing anything. I’m hungry.”

You’re not looking, but you practically feel him roll his eyes. 

“So, pizza?” 

He knows you only suggest it because it’s his comfort food, but he’s too tired to argue about getting something you both want. Eddie nods into your hand. You thumb his cheek, studying him self-indulgently while his eyes are sealed again. 

You work conditioner through his dead ends, tenderly detangling, and sticking spirals of black hair on the shower wall as they are combed out. 

Silent tears mingle with the water dripping off his chin. The tremble in his breath gives him away and you acknowledge it with a wordless hug. He reciprocates, squeezing you under the warmth of the showerhead. His nose digs into your collarbone and you trace the knobs on his spine. 

This is not the first time you’ve seen him cry, or held him while he did, for that matter. You are well-versed in handling his depressive episodes. Knowing when to push and when not to pry. Knowing when to hold him and when to give him space. And most importantly knowing that most of the time he just needs someone there. Not to talk about it necessarily but to just be with him for a night so he can pretend not to feel like shit for a few hours. 

You wrap him in a towel and scour his room for fresh pajamas. There was a time when he’d have been embarrassed to let you see his room in such a state, but you’ve drilled it into his head that you love all of him, even the messier parts. 

You change out of damp clothes in his room while he does in the bathroom. A handful of his things are put away while you’re in there, but not enough for him to scold you for doing so. 

He meets you back in the living room where he sinks back into his spot in front of the TV. You dial his favorite pizza place before joining him on the couch to brush and braid his hair. He thanks you, though you don’t need it. 

With his legs thrown across your lap and half a greasy pie split between your bellies, the hum of a movie soothes you both to sleep. Outside, the world spins on, but for now, here with him, everything feels still.

[beenbaanbuun]

Haiii this might be a weird request but I wonder if you could write an angsty Addams!MATZ fic 😭 so sorry if this is weird I've just been feeling really angsty! You can choose whatever happens lol I just wanna cry 🫶🏽

sorry i didn’t write this sooner!!! i really wanted to but i’ve been super busy over the past few days :(( i never feel super confident writing angst but i did my best!!! i hope you enjoy :D

——————————————————————————

hongjoong yelled at you… hongjoong never yells. he doesn’t yell when yeosang is being difficult to train or just acting downright feral. he doesn’t yell when clients are being cheeky and asking for far too much. he doesn’t even yell when you’re being a brat and he slips into ‘dom mode’ to punish you. yet he yelled at you just a few minutes ago…

why?

it’s your fault, you tell yourself. if you’d just listened when he told you he was busy, none of this would’ve happened. he was already stressed so why did you think being a brat and pushing his buttons would be a good idea? of course he wouldn’t want to deal with you when he already so much else on his plate with work. it was dumb of you to even think he’d give you the time of day.

you try and keep your tears to a minimum as you stalk through the house. noisy crying would only be another distraction to hongjoong and you don’t want to upset him any more than you already have done. still, despite your best attempts, you can help the shuddered breathing and quiet sniffles as you make your way down the stairs and towards your favourite spot in the house.

the fire is already crackling, drawing you in like the pied piper. you can hear the hushed conversation behind the soft crepitation, but you ignore it, entirely too focussed on how nice it will be to flop onto your favourite rug and fall into a slumber. perhaps when you wake, everything will be fine. maybe hongjoong won’t be mad at you anymore. he’ll smile at you as he tells you you’re forgiven, placing a kiss to your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips. he’ll take you up into his arms and apologise for yelling, speaking to you in the softest, most gentle voice he can muster. it’s a nice thought…

you reach the doorway to the living room, staring up at the large, oak arch that reaches high above your head. it’s carved with intricate details all hand finished by their artist friend, yunho. most of it represents their respective histories, each of their tales beginning from the bottom of the arch and climbing the wood like vines until they reach the apex at the top. prior to your arrival, their wedding had been the carving at apex of the arch, the image of two ravens, each holding a ring within their beaks, sat proudly above everything else.

now, though, the image at the top is entirely different. a lamb with dove wings and a dainty collar around its neck. the ravens still sit proudly on either side of the creature, watching over it as it sleeps. as you stare at it, you can’t help but wonder whether hongjoong will still be upset with you come bedtime. there’s a spare room down the hall that you used to sleep in when you were nothing more than their sugar baby and it was too late for them to send you home alone. perhaps you’ll have to reside in that room tonight, cold and alone and unable to sleep without the warmth of your lovers on either side of you. the thought has you biting your lip to silence a sob.

it doesn’t quite work. you still involuntarily whimper, catching the attention of both seonghwa and yeosang. their hushed conversation halts to a stop as they see you at the doorway, eyes wide and wet as you stare up at the very tippy-top of the arch. your fingers tangle themselves up as they helplessly fiddle with one another, tugging and twisting and picking until blood begins to pool along one of your nail beds. seonghwa can’t recall a time he’s ever seen you like this, and there werewolf had certainly never. they share a wary look.

“my darling lamb,” seonghwa calls to you in a hushed voice. he doesn’t want to startle you by being too loud, but he needs to pull you from this anxious haze you’d found yourself trapped in. he can’t lie that he’s a little relieved when your red ringed eyes flicker over to meet his. smiling is the last thing he wants to do upon seeing you in this state, but he knows his gentle disposition will calm you; it always does. his lips curl up softly. “what happened?”

the werewolf that has taken up residence on your favourite rug watches with concerned eyes. ever since his arrival, you’ve been an annoying little shit. an absolute thorn in his side when he wanted nothing more than to have a peaceful existence in his new home. you have no respect for personal space, you never know when to shut up, and you’re always way too cheerful all the time. they were facts that yeosang just had to accept when he realised you weren’t threatened by his harsh growling and gnashing teeth. all those times he had you pinned to the floor, spit spraying as he warned you to leave him the fuck alone only to have you giggle in his face and call him pretty; that person is nowhere to be seen right now.

“pup?” he hums, deep voice grumbling as his worries work themselves into his tone. even though he quite thoroughly despised you on his entry to the house, it seems you have this magical ability to work your way into the hearts of anyone you set your sights on. you set your sights on him before you even knew him; it took you no time at all to become one of his top priorities. “tell us what’s the matter. we can’t help unless we know?”

you take a few tentative steps into the room, bare feet tapping lightly against the parquet floor. they’re so used to your thundering footsteps as you traverse the house at your excitable pace. the silent footsteps you take towards them make their skin crawl.

you reach the rug, gently lowering yourself until your bare thighs hit the soft fur. your pastel blue skirt—the one that seonghwa had picked out to match the werewolf’s fuzzy blue jumper—bunches up around your waist, but neither of them have the time to admire how perfectly slutty it looked. it hardly seems right when you continue to wordlessly snivel and whimper, not even bothering to lay yourself down alongside your favourite werewolf-shaped pillow.

“hongjoong was mean to me,” you whimper, and seonghwa can’t lie, it confuses him.

hongjoong is mean to you a lot. it’s how he punishes you for being a brat, bullying you into submission until you decide to be a good girl. he calls you names, pushes you around a little—it’s nothing too severe but still enough for him to have earned the reputation as the crueler of the two of them. for a second, seonghwa thinks he’s landed on the answer, you must’ve been a little too bratty and couldn’t handle the consequences…

but that still doesn’t make sense.

if you couldn’t handle the consequences then that must’ve meant you weren’t in the right headspace to be punished. that in itself is nothing new, although normally, you tend to realise that before you decide to go and act out. it could’ve been the case that you didn’t realise you weren’t feeling up for a punishment but then you should’ve used your safeword. the fact that you’re sat downstairs with him and yeosang and not snuggled up in hongjoong’s arms is testament to the fact that you can’t have done that either. his husband would never do something so utterly stupid as to let you out of his sight when you’re clearly still upset over a scene you stopped.

so what happened?

did you just force yourself to take a punishment you didn’t want? no. seonghwa knows you’re too smart to do that just like he knows his husband is too observant not to notice. it’s something else entirely. something that seonghwa just can’t put his finger on.

“i need a little more information than that, darling,” seonghwa coos as he leans forwards to rest his elbows on his lap. his chin sits prettily in the palms of one hand, the other coming to rest atop your head. he pets you a few times, his touch like a cloud as tries to soothe you. your shoulders relax a touch, but your fingers still pick at one another in your lap. seeing you in such a state makes his heart sink. “lamb, what exactly did hongjoong do to make you so upset?”

you sniffle, separating your hands for just a second to wipe your tears away. they fall right back onto your lap, twisting and tugging and smearing the blood around. seonghwa can’t help but be thankful that nothing in the house is pale enough to be stained by your blood; otherwise he’d be marching you the bathroom to wash your hands, begging you to tell him what happened as the two of you walk.

“he yelled at me,” you say simply, as if that would answer all of seonghwa’s questions. it doesn’t. in fact it only fills his mind with more.

“he yelled? as in he raised his voice?” seonghwa asks softly. he hopes that the answer is no; that you just mean that hongjoong has scolded you for something. it’s a little bit of a strong reaction for just a small telling off, but you have been known to take these sorts of things to heart.

but you nod, and seonghwa’s heart sinks. hongjoong never yells at anyone, let alone you, his little dove. seonghwa and yeosang pass an odd look between them.

“master yelled at you?” the werewolf hums as he shuffles his body closer to yours. an arm wraps around your waist and effortlessly tugs you until you’re lay flat against the rug alongside the pretty creature. he lays the hand atop your own, stopping you from doing any more damage to your nail beds. the blood that spills onto his hands is nothing that bothers him. “why would master do that?”

the question is more aimed towards seonghwa than it is you. as close as you are with the couple, it’s only really seonghwa that knows the inner workings of his husbands brain. he always has an explanation to everything hongjoong does…

“i don’t know,” he says, a frown taking over his beautiful features. you hate it because you know it’s your fault. you upset hongjoong, you got yelled at, you told seonghwa, and now you have upset him. every sign points to you…

“it’s my fault,” you whisper. yeosang’s arm tightens around your waist in an instinctive display of protection. from what, he isn’t too sure. “i just wanted him to take a break but he’s too busy right now. i should’ve known.”

of course. seonghwa could’ve guessed it would be down to stress. it’s been a rough few weeks for hongjoong, the stress of yeosang arriving and finding his way into their weird, mismatched family, mixed with an increase in customers with the jewellery business, it’s safe to say hongjoong had barely had a moment free. of course, yeosang has calmed a little by now, but that doesn’t take the stress of the business away from his poor husband. he’s still being worked half to death by demanding clients who have more money than sense.

seonghwa imagines that any moment now, his husband will come to his senses and see that you were just trying to do something nice. that you weren’t just being difficult for the sake of it—which, granted, you often are—but were instead just trying to take care of him. you lacked the grace and finesse that the two of them did, but you still tried. demons, it fills his heart with love to know that you desire to care for them in the same way they care about you. you’re such a precious little lamb for them; they must’ve done something very special in their past life to deserve you.

“oh, my lamb,” seonghwa mumbles through a soft smile, “you have nothing to blame yourself for except being at the mercy of your own empathy. you prodded him because you were worried and that’s very thoughtful of you. your daddy should be worshipping you for such a kind act. i’ll go and see if i can’t talk some sense into him, hm?”

he stands up, long flowing trousers pooling gracefully over his feet. his red nails dance along them as he straightens the material out, trying to iron out the creases with only his bare hands.

“i’ll be back soon,” he hums, “let your puppy take care of you for now.”

[luveline]

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?” 

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.” 

“How big?” Steve whispers back. 

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.” 

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks. 

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.” 

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s the lightning for?” 

“The cloud.” 

“You want me to draw some puddles?” 

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles. 

“What else should we get for Beth?” 

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually. 

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.” 

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered. 

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.” 

“Looking at you makes me happy.” 

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.” 

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.” 

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise. 

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back. 

“I love you too,” he’s saying. 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.” 

“It’s a big feeling.” 

“Love is the biggest feeling.” 

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says. 

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that. 

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.” 

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.” 

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out. 

“Hey, I mean it,” you say. 

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.” 

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat. 

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden. 

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?” 

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.” 

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most. 

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously. 

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“You’re very emotionally mature.” 

“Wouldn’t say that.” 

“Me neither.” 

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.” 

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already. 

“Love you,” he says. 

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say. 

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.” 

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.” 

“What?” 

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him. 

[enby-jellyfish]

Unlucky in Love

Wade Wilson (Deadpool) X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your, They/Them

Summary: You ever went on a date so bad you gotta break the 4th wall?

Warnings: Cursing (It's Wade, c'mon), self-deprecation, Wade has a slight breakdown but it's all good in the end.

Word Count: 922

A/N: Idk if this format of writing works but I had fun, so who cares...

Well hello, you wonderful readers. It’s me. Your favourite merc with a mouth: Deadpool. And boy, do I have plans tonight.

I’m about to go on a date. Which means someone, somewhere, actually agreed to spend time with me. On purpose. I know, I know, I’m just as shocked as you are. I checked them for a concussion. They’re fine. Probably.

Now, unfortunately for my emotional stability, I am straight up head over heels for this person. Like, if I were a cartoon character, my heart would be lunging out of my chest and my eyes would be shaped like hearts. So, I want this date to go well.

So, here’s the plan: step 1, show up with flowers. Say something charming. Not creepy. Maybe a pun. Puns are romantic, right? Not cheesy at all? God, it’s been a while huh...

Anyway, step 2: dinner at that hip new place with the truffle fries and overpriced water. (How do you overprice water? It LITERALLY falls from the sky, but okay, pop off capitalism.)

Then step 3, a classic, mushy-gushy movie. Hopefully followed by a totally PG-rated make out sesh. Or PG-13. Or whatever rating I can get away with.

Whelp, now that I’m done monologuing, I’m off. Wish me luck, dear reader.

Wade rings your doorbell and checks himself out in your window one last time. His new dress-suit goes well with his mask.

You open the door. You. Beautiful you. The you I definitely didn’t spend two hours nervously googling whether normal people wear red spandex on first dates for. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favourite person in the whole world looking like a whole snack.”

Wade presents his flowers with a flourish that would make the best magician jealous. "Aww, you shouldn't have!" You smile, take them, inhale deeply... and immediately sneeze. And then again. And again.

Oh no.

“Shit. Shitshitshit. Are you allergic?! I could’ve sworn they were hypoallergenic! That’s what the lady at the weird corner stand said!”

You give your best attempt at a smile through your sneezes. “No, they’re gr- Achoo! -eat, really!”

Wade snatches the bouquet and yeets it into the nearest bush. “They were on sale anyway.” Wade shrugs, rubbing his neck apologetically.

“You bought me discount flowers? I’m not worth full price?” You squint at him teasingly as you wipe your nose. “Hey, flowers are expensive! Be glad I didn’t steal them. I almost did. But then I thought, ‘Hey, let’s impress them with legally acquired flora.’”

Okay. Flowers = disaster. But dinner? Dinner is where I shine. Candlelight. My oh-so-great and totally not-out-of-practice flirting. Lady and the Tramp-ing a single truffle fry, except-

“I’m sorry, Mr... uh… Pool. It seems your table was double-booked.”

“Double-booked?! But I bribed that waiter with an expired Olive Garden gift card and a drawing of Spider-Man in a position I won’t describe in front of my gorgeous date!”

The poor hostess gives the two of you an apologetic look. “Sorry. Nothing I can do.”

Well shucks. Trashy fast food it is…

You take a bite of your burger, eyes rolling back slightly. “Honestly? Better than truffle fries.” Wade nods in agreement, though still bummed out. “I knew I liked you for more than just your butt. But also your butt.”

At least you can’t go wrong with a movie, right?

Right!?

Okay. So the movie starts out decent. Classic setup. Some romance. Some drama. Some action. And then... it all goes so wrong.

Plot holes the size of Canada. CGI so bad you just know those poor artists were underpaid. The actors making choices… that are there. You exchange one long, horrified glance.

“Do you just want to get out of here?” Wade whispers to you. “I thought you’d never ask.” The two of you awkwardly shuffle past the other people that somehow haven’t run out yet.

“How did they even manage to make a movie so bad? It wasn’t even good-bad, it was just bad.” Wade vents as you walt towards the exit. “No idea. I think the director was having a moment.”

“And the writers, actors, and composer. The whole production is just a shitshow.” Wade opens the door for you, only to find it absolutely pouring outside.

“Of course it’s raining.” Wade mutters, sighing heavily. “This night was supposed to be good. Like, actually good. I mean- I tried. I wanted it to be special. And-”

Wade’s voice cracks.

He looks up at the sky.

“Author, you suck.” He mumbles. “You could’ve made this the fluffiest fic to ever fluff, but nooo. You had to go all angstcore on my ass.”

You interrupt his crazed ranting at the sky by grabbing his face and pressing a kiss right over the mouth of his mask. “I had fun.” Wade blinks. “You did?”

You smile, brushing your thumb over his masked cheekbone. “Yeah, I did. ‘Cause though this date was pretty shitty, it was shitty with you.”

Wade lets out a strangled noise from the back of his throat. “Wait, hold on- that was actually really cute. Gimme a second.”

Wade takes a step back, sniffles, and clears his throat. As a cherry on top he wipes away a non-existent tear, before turning back to you.

“Okay. I’m back. Where were we?” The way you smile at him makes him feel all warm inside.

You shrug, stepping closer with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Making out in the rain?” You say, arms sliding around Wade’s neck. “YES. YES, WE WERE.”

ROLL CREDITS, BABY.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[carlottawllms]

Lying Traitor

Mason Mount x Reader Angst / Fluff Italics = Flashback

I won’t lie, I’ve been struggling a lot with writing lately as motivation and the love for the things I created seemed to have disappeared entirely. I’ve started writing several fics and hated every single word I put down so I never finished any of those.

With this one, I feel like I’ve made a little peace with writing and whilst it’s not my best work, I hope you still like it.

Feedback would be very much appreciated. Thank you! 🩷

Manchester had been meant to be a fresh start for you and Mason. For him, obviously as a part of a new team and for you without the lingering thoughts and memories of the personal hell you’d gone through.

But tonight, just a few months in, that bubble of happiness and freedom had burst out of nowhere and Mason hated himself for dragging you into this mess again.

After the public attention surrounding him had died down a little throughout the last two weeks, he’d decided to have a date night outside your four walls and booked a table at a cozy Italian he knew you’d love.

And it had been more than perfect. The food had been fantastic, you’d smiled and laughed throughout the whole evening and when you’d gone for a little walk, you’d seemed carefree and happy.

Unlike now.

Mason had to physically hold himself back from sighing deeply and giving his worry away as he watched you drawing some random shapes into his chest. Your brows were a little furrowed and if you kept biting your bottom lip like that, he was sure you’d draw blood soon.

After pressing a gentle kiss on top of your head, Mason dropped his head back into the pillows; his hand resuming the caressing movements on your back. He felt a little useless as he couldn’t do much to help you despite lying there and holding you, but he knew even that was a big thing already.

You were someone who liked to sort things out on your own and needed space and time for yourself; especially after unpleasant situations like today. So, when you’d got home after the abrupt ending of your date night, Mason had expected you to take your time and space to get your emotions in check and your head straight, but to his surprise, after your evening routine, you’d snuggled up to him under the covers.

Not like you usually would, all pressed up against his body, but you’d put your head on his arm and sought out his proximity and that alone had made him feel a little less helpless.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I thought I’d feel weird after today.”, you whispered after a while, gaze focussed on your fingers dancing over his chest. Seeing Charlie and Jen again had made you feel uncomfortable, but it hadn’t unsettled you in a way you’d thought it would. “Like…sad or angry, anything really.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, I…I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like everyone gets what they deserve in the end and they’ve both done a horrible thing, so I guess they deserve each other.”, you said, feeling Mason’s arm move down to wrap around your waist and pull you into his side properly.

“I feel like they deserve a place in hell, but maybe that’s just me.”, Mason mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, that too.”, you giggled.

“I just hate their guts.”, he grumbled. “They’re disgusting and pathetic for breaking someone as precious as you and thinking back to that day still makes me want to murder them. I jus-“

“I know, Mase.”, you smiled fondly, propping yourself up on one arm so you could look at him properly. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose were all flushed and his eyes a little hard, but you couldn’t hold it against him. He’d experienced first hand how broken you’d been after your ex had fucked you over.

In an attempt to get his focus back on you, you cupped his jaw and turned his head a little. His skin warm against yours and when you nuzzled your nose against his and kissed his cheek, he sent you a fond smile.

“I was this close to murdering them.”, he mumbled, holding his thumb and forefinger up to show you.

*

Your plane had touched ground about 40 minutes ago, meaning that 6 months after you’d taken off for New Zealand, you were back in England.

Studying abroad had been fantastic. You’d met amazing people, made friends and experienced new cultures and the most beautiful places the country had to offer and whilst you’d enjoyed it thoroughly and were grateful for the time, you’d missed your favourite people.

The long distance hadn’t allowed your boyfriend or your family to come and see you, so FaceTime calls and messages had been all that had connected you to them and right now, you longed for a hug.

However, it seemed as if you had to wait a little longer as even after the third try, your boyfriend Charlie wouldn’t answer his phone.

Yesterday, he’d promised to pick you up. You had agreed that you would call him as soon as you were at the baggage drop-off, but when you took your last suitcase off the conveyor belt, he still hadn't answered any of your calls.

Sighing, you flopped down on one of the benches to think about what to do. After almost 24 hours on two planes and a 2-hour layover in Dubai, you were exhausted, and it naturally didn’t help with the increasing irritation you felt towards your boyfriend.

You’d been so excited to see him and spend some time with him before calling it an early night, but instead you now had to find a solution to get back to Hersham yourself.

It was early afternoon, so most people, including your parents were at work and whilst they’d probably happily pick you up, you didn't want to be a burden. A taxi, however, would cost you an arm and a leg and you weren’t keen on spending that much on a bloody car ride.

Eventually, you decided to ring your best friend Mason. Luckily for you, he’d just finished training and promised to pick you up and when half an hour later you spotted him entering the arrival hall, a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

He’d pulled his cap low over his face to prevent the people around him from recognising him, but with the rush they all were in, you doubted they would notice him even without the disguise.

“Oh my god hi.”, he smiled brightly once you’d rushed over to him and the moment his arms wrapped around you tightly and pulled you flush against his body, this overwhelming feeling of home surrounded you. “My favourite person is back.”

“Hi Mase.”, you mumbled into his neck.

The two of you had a very tight bond and whilst you’d known you’d missed him, it only hit you now that you were back in his arms, just how much you actually had.

“I missed you so much, love.”, he pouted before pressing a short peck to your cheek and pulling you in for another tight hug.

“I missed you, too.”, you giggled.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at your and Charlie’s shared flat. Weirdly enough, his car was parked outside, and you wondered if he’d just fallen asleep or if something had happened. What if he had fallen and hadn't been able to pick you up? Or if he-

“C’mon, I’ll help you with your bags real quick before heading off.”

Mason patted your thigh and ushered you out of his car to grab all your belongings. You chatted all the way up the stairs to your flat, but no matter how funny his jokes, the weird feeling in the pit of your tummy wouldn’t go away.

Charlie was a reliable person. Always on time, never forgot agreements or appointments. In the two years you’d been with him, he’d never not been there so it didn’t sit right with you that he’d apparently missed four calls after promising you to pick you up.

“Charlie?”, you called out once you stepped foot into the flat, but there was no reaction. “Weird.”, you mumbled to yourself as you entered the living room. All lights were off, and the room was tidy with no signs of anyone having been here.

Maybe he’d gone for a walk or jog?

“Can’t believe the first time he forgets something is when he was supposed to pick me up.”, you moaned. “Anyways, you got another 10 minutes for a coffee and a quick catch up? I feel like we haven’t spoken properly in forever.”

“Obviously.”, Mason nodded, his signature smile on his lips. “Let’s get your bags into your bedroom first. You know how much you’ll hate yourself for having to do it yourself later.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. There was little or no motivation left to carry everything up the stairs, but Mason was right. The suitcases were heavy, and you really didn't fancy the idea of doing it on your own once he was gone.

Just like outside, leaving the weekender for you to carry, Mason grabbed both of your suitcases. With a gentle nod, he wordlessly told you to go first, and you were quick in taking the stairs. Halfway up, you thought you’d heard something, but when it didn’t happen again, you put it down to Mason huffing behind you as he’d never not let you know how much you’d overpacked…

“You know I alw-”, he started, but was soon interrupted by what could only be described as high pitch moans filling the silence.

You stopped dead in your tracks, the weekender falling to the ground with a quiet thud as the blood froze in your veins. It couldn’t be…it had to…this wasn’t why he’d missed the calls…

Despite the pathetic hope that Charlie was simply watching porn to get himself off, the tears were already burning behind your eyes. Deep down already aware of what was going on, you stormed off to your bedroom, leaving Mason no chance to hold you back and before you even knew it, you ripped the door open.

And there he was, standing in front of the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor with a woman on all fours in front of him. Deep, breathless moans pouring from him, whilst fucking her brains out.

You’d thought you’d been prepared for the worst when you’d stormed in, but his naked backside facing you whilst he was balls-deep in some woman had you on the brink of throwing up. An acid-like feeling in your tummy bubbling and threatening to spill over.

The gasp you suddenly let out was loud enough to alert you boyfriend and his mistress. Charlie whipped his head around in a millisecond and you could tell the exact moment he realised it was you.

He pulled away, face contorted in horror, frantically looking for something to cover himself with, but your eyes were set on the woman who slowly turned around now and the moment she showed her face, your whole world collapsed.

“Jen?”, you whispered as pure pain started to run through your veins.

Seeing Charlie fucking someone else had been heartbreaking, but seeing your best friend with him was something entirely else. Jen had been your best friend forever. She’d been with you through thick and thin and was the only person besides Mason that you trusted 100%.

You felt as if all air had been punched out of your lungs. Breathing was suddenly a very difficult task and hadn’t it been for your hand still gripping the door handle, you probably would’ve collapsed to the floor already.

“y/n, I can…it isn’t what it lo-”

“I’m sorry, y/n, I swear I didn’t want to, I-”

“Please, y/n. Let me explain. I-”

Charlie and Jen kept talking and trying to apologise, but in your brain it all faded together into some sort of rushing background noise. Your best friend had slept with your boyfriend…Two of the most important people in your life had gone behind your back and betrayed you.

“y/n, I promise I didn’t mean to…I just…you were gone and…please don’t leave, I love you. We can work this out, I-”

You hadn’t even noticed how you’d taken slow steps backwards and it was only when Charlie reached out for you that you eventually woke up from your rigidity. Pulling your arm away in pure and utter disgust, you turned on your heals and ran down the hall. You felt humiliated, ashamed and absolutely worthless.

Mason was still in the hall when you rushed past him. He couldn’t catch a proper glimpse of your face, but he knew just how devastated you had to be.

Charlie was your second boyfriend and had been by your side for a little over two years now and the concerns Mason had had at the beginning had quickly subsided. Charlie had made you happy and ultimately that was all he wanted for you.

“y/n, wait! Please!”, Charlie called. In only his boxers he came out of the bedroom to chase after you and for a second, the thought of sticking his leg out an watching him fall crossed Mason’s mind, but he only ended up grabbing Charlie’s arm and shoving him into the wall.

Pinning him against the cold wallpaper, Mason towered over your now ex-boyfriend, who looked absolutely frightened at best.

“You are the most disgusting piece of shit I’ve ever come across.”, he spat. “You both are. y/n fought your corner and stuck to your side when you were on your lowest and this is what you do? Fucking her best friend? Really?”

“Mason, I-”

“She’s the one of the best people anyone could ever meet. She’s this beautiful woman with a heart of gold and instead of cherishing and protecting her, you just fucked her over. Charlie, you had the chance to spend your life with this wonderful woman, but all you cared about was getting your dick wet.”

“She was gone for 6 months, what was I supposed to do. It’s not li-”

“Shut up for fuck’s sake!”, Mason bellowed. His fist making contact with the wall right next to Charlie’s head. “I can’t even begin to describe how much I despise you. You disgust me so much I could…I swear to god if you ever come close to her again, I’ll kill you.”

With nothing more than a pointed look – he had to hold himself back from doing something he might regret later – he left Charlie in the hallway and quickly made his way downstairs. With no idea where you were, he searched all rooms before eventually taking a look outside.

And there you were, shivering and breathing frantically with your hands clutching the fabric of your hoodie tightly.

Your blank stare didn't change one bit when he stepped in front of you and said your name multiple times, and that was the moment Mason realised you were about to have a panic attack. Knowing there was no sense in pulling you into a hug, he cupped your cheek as gently as possible with one hand to force you to look at him.

“Breathe with me, y/n.”, he murmured quietly. “C’mon, you need to breathe with me, love. In…and out.”

As he continued to breathe as calmly as possible to bring you back down, he grabbed your hand and placed it flat on his chest where his heart was beating before covering it with his own in another attempt to soothe you.

“I got you, love.”, he whispered with his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m here, you’re okay. Just breathe for me.”

It took what felt like an eternity until your breathing returned to normal and Mason’s heart could settle in his chest. He hated seeing you like this more than anything else, especially as there wasn’t much he could do to help you. this was your own personal nightmare, and he could only be there for you as best as possible.

Only once you’d calmed down properly and you stepped a little closer to him, did he wrap his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

“It’s okay, I got you, love.”, he hummed into your hair.  

“I don’t know where to…where to go, I-”

Your choked up sobs broke Mason’s heart. You sounded so broken and tired, so devastated and he hated every second of it.

“You’ll come with me. I have more than enough space.” But even if he hadn’t had the space, he would take you with him. He would sleep in the bathtub or on the floor if that meant you had somewhere safe and comfortable to be.

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, y/n.”, Mason interrupted you softly. “I won’t let you sleep in a hotel or whatever is going through your mind. You’ll come with me and stay for as long as you want to. Okay?”

You felt him pulling away a little. His hand coming up to cup your cheek and tilt your head back so he could get a proper look at you and his big brown eyes started at you, pleading with you until you nodded.

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Mason leaned in and kissed your forehead softly as he could feel the tears burning behind his eyes. “Go get in the car, love. I’ll grab your bags and be there in a minute, yeah?”

Sniffing, you took a deep breath and nodded before turning and walking over to his car. Mason watched waited until you got in and once you’d shut the door, he took a deep breath himself in an attempt to compose himself as with the emotions running through him, he was close to forgetting all moral concepts he’d ever been taught.

God how much he wanted to wrangle that prick’s neck.

*

“I always thought I’d hate them forever, you know? And I obviously hate what they did because it was a shitty thing to do, but I couldn’t care less about them as individuals. If anything, I’m grateful it happened, I-“

“Well, I’m not.”

“I know you’re not.”, you laughed quietly. “And neither am I. I just mean…back then, I really thought he was the one and if he hadn't cheated on me, I would’ve probably never realised what a bad person he is. I would’ve spent years with him cheating on me behind my back and I don’t deserve that.”  

Knowing you weren’t finished yet, Mason simply hummed in agreement and resumed his calming motions all over your back. His fingers ran up and down your spine, applying a gentle pressure to release the tension in your muscles.

“I hate what he did, but I'm grateful for what it taught me and especially what it brought.”, you whispered. “You.”

Your heart melted in your chest at the way Mason’s big brown eyes were full of love when they locked on yours.  

“You’d always been my best friend and I'm sure at some point even my stupid ass would’ve realised that you are way more than that for me, but maybe then it would have been too late and I would’ve never got the chance to be with you.”

You pecked his lips lovingly, before pulling away again. “So yes, I am a tiny bit grateful that he and Jen did it on that day of all days, broke my heart and pushed my right into your arms.”

There was a whirlwind of emotions scurrying through his slightly glazed over eyes, but the smile spreading over his face let you know he understood. You felt his hand sneaking up to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss, but there was one more thing you needed to get off your chest.

You'd been feeling it for a long time already, but up until now you hadn't felt ready to say it; to tell Mason you loved him.

Those three words were more than just that. They stood for promises, unconditional trust and pure and utter love. They were huge and meaningful and after everything that had happened with the last person you said them to, they’d been hanging over you like a thick grey cloud.

But seeing Charlie and Jen today had brought you the closure you hadn’t known you needed. That big nothing you’d felt when you’d seen them had reassured you. They didn’t mean anything anymore. They no longer had a connection to you and neither to the three words that you’d held back each and every time you’d wanted to say them.

You now had the closure you hadn’t known you needed and with that you could finally let yourself get lost in all that love you held for the best person in this world.

“I love you, Mason.”, you whispered overcome with all your emotions. “I love you so much and I’m so glad I have you. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”

Mason stared at you for a long moment. You could feel his heart racing and matching the beat of your own as he began to realise the significance of the moment. He’d told you before that he loved you but had always reassured you he didn’t want you to say it back until you felt comfortable enough to do so.

And after everything you’d been through, he surely hadn’t expected those words after just over six months into your relationship and the meaning behind it all just hit him with full force, making his eyes well up a little.

“y/n.”, he choked, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stop it from trembling, but you could see how emotional he was, and it made your heart swell. “I love you so much. So, so much and I don’t have the words for it right now, but I’m so…I don’t know…I just…thank you so much for trusting me. I love you, y/n.”

And with that, he leaned up and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss full of overwhelming love. Burying your fingers into his hair, you sank into him and let that feeling of content, happiness and pure and utter love take over your entire being.

—————

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback 🩷

[kikyoupdates]

Goddess Wink ⭑˚💘⭑ 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑦

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will?

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There was a stranger in your bed, and he was sitting around so casually, as if he hadn’t just broken into your room. He’d referred to you by your name, so maybe he was acquainted with Mikael somehow? But then again, Rui or one of the other attendants would have told you that there was a guest waiting for you in your room. In any case, something was off about this guy.

You narrowed your eyes, activating your Quirk. “Whoever you are, keep your distance from me, and don’t try anything funny.”

He was still smiling, staring at you with those golden eyes of his. Without warning, he sat up, and rushed right over to you, so close that your noses were nearly touching. You let out an audible gasp and tried to back away, but his hand came down against your hip to hold you in place.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Your powers won’t have any effect on a god.”

A god—?

“You and I have never actually met before, but I’ve been keeping a very close eye on you. I’m Ares,” he introduced, his lips curved into a devious smile. “You probably know me as the Greek God of War.”

“Uh—I’m—what?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was this some kind of sick prank? How and why would a god have come down to speak with you in person? But he spoke so assuredly… and nobody other than the members of your household knew of your connection to the gods. If he really was who he said he was, then it would explain how he knew who you were, not to mention that your powers hadn’t affected him at all.

“Your surprise is to be expected,” Ares chuckled, taking a step back. “But I can assure you, I am who I claim to be. If you want, I can wreak some havoc nearby to prove my point.”

“You’re really one of the gods?”

“Sure am,” he grinned. “I know pretty much everything that’s happened in your life so far. You’ve never met your biological parents, you were raised in an orphanage, and during your stay there you awakened to your power—or Quirk, as it’s referred to in this age. Your current caretaker, a descendant of Eros, found you and brought you in. And you, of course, are none other than a descendant of Aphrodite.”

You swallowed. There was no way he could have known this much, not unless Mikael told him everything. So… you were actually face-to-face with a god right now? And a rather dangerous one, at that.

“How am I able to see you right now?” you asked. “And touch you?”

Ares shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for gods to take on mortal appearances when they visit the human world. I could take on any appearance I wanted, but I chose to look like someone close to your own age. It just makes things easier. But all the trivial stuff aside, I really am amazed,” he marveled, looking you over with a gleam in his eyes. “For a mortal, you’re so incredibly beautiful. Truly the embodiment of Aphrodite.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess. But why exactly are you here?”

“What do you mean? I wanted to see you, of course.” He jerked your hand into his own—rather harshly, at that. You glanced down at your intertwined fingers, then eyed the giddy expression spreading across Ares’ face. “I wanted to meet my lover, in the flesh.”

“Lover?” you gaped.

“Yes, lover,” he hummed. “You, who embodies Aphrodite’s traits in a mortal body, is of course destined to be my lover, just as she was. Or—still is, to be exact.”

You’d spent all of three minutes with this guy, but it was already more than enough for you to conclude that the gods were fucking weird. Come to think of it, you vaguely remembered something about Aphrodite and Ares being romantically involved when you’d been reading up on mythology. But he could literally go see the real Aphrodite, so what was the point in coming to you? Not to mention…

“I’m not Aphrodite,” you frowned, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp. “I’m just her descendant. That means she’s my ancestor, which basically means that you’re trying to get with one of her children. Doesn’t that sound kind of messed up to you?”

Ares let out a short, deranged laugh. “Ha! When you’re immortal, those kinds of things are insignificant.”

“Can’t you just go spend time with the actual Aphrodite instead?”

“The gods are always busy with their own duties, so getting together isn’t as simple as it may seem. Besides,” he waved off, “she’s married to my brother, Hephaestus, which makes it that much more of a pain. I’d much rather have a mortal beauty all to myself.” He licked his lips at you, and you had the sudden urge to knee him in the groin. You already kind of knew just how much of a mess the relationships between the gods were, but this just reaffirmed it.

“Anyways!” you squeaked, still trying to pull your hand away. “You’re like thousands of years older than me, and it’s weird! Go find someone your own age!”

“But I want you, [Name].” Ares wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to your forehead. His strength, even in mortal form, was seriously no joke. You couldn’t get away no matter how hard he tried.

“Gross! Get off of me!”

He just laughed at your fruitless efforts, no doubt deriving some sadistic pleasure from watching you squirm. Why did he have to be the god you met? Why couldn’t you have met Artemis instead? Or Apollo? Hell—you’d even take Hades at this point.

“[Name]? Is everything alright?”

Mikael…!

You heard his voice from the hallway and looked back over your shoulder to see him staring into the room wide-eyed. Well, of course. Some random dude he’d never seen before had broken into his house and had you stuck in a choke-hold, after all.

“Mikael!” you wailed. “You’ve gotta help me! Ares decided to come down from Olympus to tease me, and he’s totally weird!”

“Ares…?”

Mikael was too confused to even budge, his gaze shifting from you to the silver-haired boy pressing you against his body. Ares laughed again, still showing no sign of releasing you.

“Hello, descendant of Eros. Since he’s my child, that technically makes us related too, huh?”

You clawed at Ares’ back, flailing your legs out left and right. “Mikael! It’s your house—do something!”

“Uh, I see.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt, tipping his head forward slightly. “Pardon me, I’m just quite taken aback. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, honored god. If you don’t mind, would you release [Name] for the time being? She’s getting rather worked up.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Ares smirked, hugging you so tight it felt like your ribs were going to snap. “Since you’re here and all, why don’t you come in and have a chat with us?”

You groaned, but you realized that Mikael was just as helpless in this situation as you were. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Ares lifted you up into his arms, made his way over with you towards the bed, and promptly sat you down onto his lap. You hated this guy already. Oh, if only one of the other gods would just come down and give him a good beating, you’d be forever thankful.

“I have to admit, I never imagined meeting any of the gods in person,” Mikael said. “At first I was surprised, but the longer I’m around you, the more I can feel the strength of your energy and spirit. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the real Ares.”

You gritted your teeth. “He’s a real pain in the ass, is what he is.”

“Now, now, [Name]. We have to be respectful.”

“My woman’s a real feisty one, isn’t she?” Ares mused. “It’s adorable. I might just kidnap her right now.”

“Excuse me?!” you choked.

“So, you wanted to see [Name],” Mikael nodded. “But why visit now? Her powers first awakened many years ago.”

“I wanted to wait and see how she turned out. She’s bloomed into a beautiful young lady, and I just couldn’t help myself anymore.” He squeezed you closer and nuzzled his nose against your cheek. Aphrodite this, Aphrodite that… this power really was turning out to be way more trouble than it was worth.

Mikael folded his hands over his lap and smiled. “Yes, she’s grown up to be beautiful and kind. Even with Aphrodite’s gifts, she isn’t vain or selfish. In that sense, she’s turned out quite a bit different than the goddess herself.”

“True,” Ares acknowledged. “Aphrodite was never the strongest-willed of the gods.”

You titled your head, smirking up at him. “Hm? Are you sure you want to badmouth your lover like that? I might just end up tattling to her myself.”

“Ha-ha. If she ever decides to show herself to you, then be my guest.”

“Whatever, just—haven’t we talked enough? Let go of me already.”

Ares looked you over again, mischief and adoration in his eyes. “Yes, unfortunately, I can’t afford to stay too long, but I’ll be sure to visit again soon.”

“Lucky me,” you groaned.

“There was just one last thing I wanted to say. I see that you’re striving to become a hero, but you’re consciously limiting your powers, so they won’t affect others without you wanting them to. Wouldn’t it be easier to use them and have everyone bend to your will?”

Your gaze fell to the ground. “Maybe the gods are fond of using their gifts to manipulate others, but it feels a little slimy to me. Sure, even I enjoy activating my Quirk from time to time to tease some people, but I don’t want that to be how I live my life. I’m worried I won’t be able to tell what’s actually real anymore.”

“I see.”

To your great relief, Ares patted your head and finally let you out of his grasp. He stood up from the bed, gave Mikael a subtle nod, and announced that he’d be taking his leave. You watched as his body slowly began to shimmer and glow, almost translucent.

“Oh, and, [Name]?”

“Yes?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You didn’t even have time to let out a gasp, since his lips had already entrapped your own in a kiss. The apples of your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and you hurried to pull away.

“Ugh! You damn perverted god!”

Ares was grinning ear-to-ear. “Just a little parting gift, so you don’t forget who you belong to.” And with that, his body emitted a burst of light, disappearing with a flash right before your eyes. Mikael offered you a sympathetic smile, patting your shoulders in consolation.

“There, there. Eccentric as he may be, it’s still an honor to be visited directly by one of the gods.”

You puffed out your reddened cheeks. You could already tell he was going to be a huge pain to deal with.

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[neiptune]

hello santa neiptune for your holiday servings i think christmas pudding with either shoyo + a prompt 6 (family invited an old crush/first love to a dinner party) or sunsrin with prompt 19 ("I'm going to buy/make the worst secret Santa gift humanly possible") or atsumu with prompt 13 (neighbourhood festive decoration competition becomes dangerously competitive) smooch smooch smooch smooch

rintaro suna x I'm going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible

“Shut up everyone, it’s time!”, Atsumu’s comically authoritarian tone swallows the chatter, the living room of his apartment growing silent.

“Why can’t we pick who we want to get a gift for?”, Aran grumbles from his end of the couch. The setter frowns.

“Because I think none of you assholes would pick me”.

“Whatever gave that away”, Suna clicks his tongue. A soft, empty stocking collides with his face.

“Yer picking first!”, Atsumu holds the old dunkin donuts box under his nose, shaking it slightly to further shuffle the folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible”, Rintaro, ever the grinch, grumbles as slender fingers randomly draw a name.

“Rin, you’re supposed to look at it later!”, you lightly elbow him in the ribs but he pulls back, avoiding the jab. The only sign of something flashing across his deadpan features is a slight twitch of the brow as he reads the name he pulled out. Then it’s gone, small piece of paper tucked safely into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Your turn”, Atsumu brings the box to you with a grin. You know he hopes you draw his name, you’re notoriously the best gift giver of the group and he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the Blue Lock themed calendar Osamu got him the previous year, especially with that insufferable Rin dude occupying the page dedicated to his birth month.

“I hope it’s me”, Osamu crosses his fingers from the other side of the room, where he’s resting his back against the fireplace. You chuckle, keep the small piece of paper in your closed fist as you patiently wait for everyone else to draw their names.

The boys make a whole spectacle out of unfolding the pieces of paper, Atsumu the most teased one between whistles, oohs and ahhs. You make sure not to let the small pang of disappointment shine through your smile: you’re happy it’s Kita, you love Kita. You just would’ve loved for it to be Rin more.

The designated gift exchange day is a week later, right on christmas eve. The anxiety churning in your stomach is suffocating because why would you even get something for him too? All you had to do was pick a nice gift for Shinsuke, the easiest person to please on planet earth. But now there are two extra nicely wrapped presents under the tree in your living room, one of them will make you look like a complete dumbass because there won’t be any logical explanation to justify an additional gift. Atsumu will never shut up about it, like, ever. Fuck.

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when the doorbell rings, the sound making you jump. Confusion is still written all over your features when you open the door, not expecting any guest or delivery.

“Hey”, Rintaro tosses you a tiny smile to balance the hesitancy out.

“Rin”, surprised, you blink a few times, “you okay?”.

“Yeah. Can I come in?”.

“Of course!”.

He takes off his shoes and slowly steps into your apartment, cheeks unusually flushed courtesy of the cold outside.

“What’s that?”, you curiously peek at the bag he holds in his hand while he walks to your couch and you gingerly trail behind him.

“I’m your secret santa”, he clears his throat, “didn’t wanna give this to you in front of everyone. Don’t make it weird”.

You sit next to him with mirth swarming in stupidly bright eyes. Suna feels his palms getting clammy.

“So you wanted to give me the worst gift humanly possible… early?”.

“Exactly. Here”, he hands you the small paper bag, “you’re welcome”.

“You’re a dick”, you giggle, unable to disguise the affection in your voice.

Inside the bag there are two numbered envelopes. You open the first, smaller one.

“What the…?”, it’s a regular yellow post-it, with a handwritten note.

Congratulations on your hardly earned free time. Make the most of it :)

“Check the other one”, Suna indicates the remaining envelope.

“I’m confused”.

The second gift is… handmade coupons for messy, scribbled options: concert, one meal, roadtrip, win an argument, breakfast.

“You get two coupons. I kinda already have tickets for your favorite band”.

“But”, your throat feels dry, “I don’t… I have to work?”.

“You don’t. I emailed your boss, got you some time off, something you never would’ve done for yourself”, Suna looks away, inscrutable as always. Your heart slams harder against your ribcage.

“Rin”.

He meets your gaze and you offer a smile.

“I got you something too”.

thank you for trusting my writing, hope you enjoy! happy holidays mwah

[everwhovian]

Hyung, not Appa | Hwang Brothers | [ao3]

Jun-ho was In-ho’s little brother first. But when In-ho becomes ‘Appa’ to someone else, Jun-ho starts to feel like there’s no space left for him – quieter visits, missed glances, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. Jun-ho tries to be good. To understand. Until he can’t. And all that hurt spills out in one breathless moment: “I wish you were my appa.”

Jun-ho had never met anyone like Yuna.

She was funny. Not the kind of funny adults usually were – weird or loud or trying too hard – but actually funny.

She made up voices for cartoon characters and never told him he was being too much. She listened when he talked, even when it was about stuff like what would happen if jelly beans were currency or whether ghosts got bored.

She was cool, too. Not in a cold way, but in the warm, hoodie-sharing, lets-you-stay-up-an-extra-hour way. She didn’t make fun of the way he still liked picture books sometimes. She just smiled and said, “Show me your favorite page.”

So when In-ho brought her around more, Jun-ho didn’t mind. Not even when she started sleeping over. Not even when Eomma raised her eyebrows and said something about “closing the door” and “setting an example.”

Jun-ho liked Yuna.

He loved her, maybe. The same way he loved his favorite pen and his brother’s laugh when he wasn’t pretending to be grumpy.

So when In-ho sat him down one day, all serious and slow, and said, “Yuna’s going to have a baby,” Jun-ho’s first reaction wasn’t confusion.

It was awe.

“A baby?”

In-ho smiled – kind of nervous, kind of not. “Yeah. You’re gonna be an uncle.”

Jun-ho’s eyes went huge. “Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

“Will it be weird?”

“Maybe a little.”

“But cool?”

In-ho nodded. “Yeah. Definitely cool.”

Jun-ho thought so too.

He got to hold his nephew in the hospital. The baby smelled like lotion and newness and something kind of milky and warm. His nose was small, like a little bean. His fingers curled around Jun-ho’s pinky without even trying.

In-ho smoothed back the tiny hat on the baby’s head. “His name’s Seo-jun. We picked it because we wanted part of your name in his.”

“You named him after me,” Jun-ho said, stunned.

Jun-ho looked at the baby again. He was so small. Wrinkly. Kind of red. But he had little fingers that still curled around Jun-ho’s pinky like a sleepy cat and a nose that scrunched up like he was trying to sneeze and forget it at the same time.

“Yeah,” In-ho said, crouched beside him, “you’re family. That won’t change.”

Jun-ho grinned so hard it made his face warm. “Does this mean I get to teach him stuff?”

Yuna smiled from the hospital bed, her eyes soft with sleep. “When he’s bigger, yeah. All the stuff you know.”

“I know a lot,” Jun-ho said proudly. “Like how to draw on eggs without cracking them.”

In-ho ruffled his hair. “That’ll come in handy.”

And in that moment, it felt good. Safe. Like nothing had changed except there was more love now. More people to share things with.

But things did change.

Slowly. Quietly. Like a leak in a balloon.

It wasn’t anything obvious at first.

Just that his hyung wasn’t home as much.

He’d gotten a new apartment with Yuna, one that was “too far to walk” and “not quite ready for sleepovers yet.” Eomma smiled when she said it, but Jun-ho could tell she missed him too.

They visited, sometimes.

Jun-ho sat on the bus and stared out the window, stomach flipping with something that wasn’t nerves but wasn’t not-nerves either. The apartment was nice. It smelled like warm laundry and baby powder and soft things. But it wasn’t home. It didn’t sound like it. Didn’t feel like it.

And everything was quiet – except when it wasn’t. When Seo-jun cried, it was like the whole apartment got smaller.

Sometimes Jun-ho talked, and no one answered right away. Sometimes he showed them a drawing and In-ho said “That’s great, bud,” without looking up from the bottle he was shaking or the baby he was bouncing.

It didn’t feel bad, exactly.

Just… different.

Everything was about the baby.

Which made sense. Babies needed a lot of things. Bottles. Wipes. Cuddles. Rocking. But Jun-ho wasn’t used to being in the background. He didn’t know how to shrink that way.

In-ho bounced Seo-jun while Yuna sat on the floor with a pillow in her lap. Eomma offered to help with laundry. Jun-ho stood in the doorway, holding the coloring book he’d brought in his backpack.

No one asked to see it.

They weren’t being mean. They were just... busy.

“Jun-ho, can you hand me that blanket?” Yuna asked, smiling but not really looking at him.

He passed it over and nodded, then sat on the floor and started coloring by himself. When he finished the page, he didn’t show it to anyone.

And then one day, it happened.

He was sitting on the rug again, watching the baby blink up at the ceiling fan. He’d brought his favorite car to roll along the coffee table edge. It made a tiny click each time it hit the seam between wood panels. Click. Click. Click.

And Yuna leaned over the baby and said gently, “Look, Seo-jun. Appa’s getting your bottle.”

Jun-ho froze.

His fingers clenched around the little car, wheels spinning in his palm.

Appa.

She’d said Appa.

His stomach twisted. His ears buzzed. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t what she was supposed to say.

That was Hyung.

Hyung, who let him ride on his shoulders and carried him home when he fell asleep on the bus and once helped him build a volcano for science class even though it exploded too early.

Hyung, who used to check his homework and make his rice just right and let him cry into his hoodie when he got too overwhelmed at school.

Now he was Appa.

For someone else.

And for the first time, Jun-ho didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to see the baby. He didn’t want to play or draw or sit on the couch with a blanket while they cooed over someone who wasn’t him.

He just wanted to go home.

He didn’t say anything. Not right away.

But when they asked him if he wanted to hold Seo-jun again, he shook his head.

He didn’t want to.

Not anymore.

He didn’t say anything on the bus ride home.

He just stared out the window again, the world rolling past like it didn’t notice him.

When Eomma asked if he had fun, he nodded. Said “Yeah.”

But inside, it felt like something had shifted. Just a little.

Like there was less space for him now, even if no one had said so out loud.

Jun-ho still smiled sometimes when he saw In-ho. Still let Yuna ruffle his hair. Still packed his backpack with crayons and stickers in case the baby needed entertainment.

But more and more, he started holding back.

He spoke less. Stayed close to Eomma when they visited. Pretended to be tired, or full, or busy when they asked if he wanted to hold the baby. When In-ho passed him the bottle one afternoon and said, “Want to help feed him?” Jun-ho just shook his head and said, “I’ll spill it.”

He stopped bringing his drawings.

He started sitting by the door instead of the couch.

And whenever In-ho laughed – the big kind of laugh, the real kind – and it was because of something Seo-jun did, Jun-ho’s stomach tightened.

Jealousy wasn’t something he could name yet. He didn’t know that was what it was. He only knew it made his chest feel too small, like the inside of him was curled up tight and couldn’t stretch out.

He didn’t want to feel that way. He loved In-ho. He even liked the baby, sometimes, when he wasn’t crying. But it was like... everything was getting smaller. And he didn’t know how to ask for space that didn’t exist anymore.

One weekend, In-ho picked him up from school early. That part was exciting. He was leaning against the car, waving, already smiling in that relaxed way that meant something good was coming.

“We’re having a hyung-and-Jun-ho day,” he said as Jun-ho climbed into the front seat. “Just you and me. Yuna says we deserve it.”

Jun-ho had beamed. His cheeks hurt from grinning. They were going to the museum. The one with the big dinosaur bones and the blinking planetarium. He’d even packed his sketchpad.

But halfway there, In-ho’s phone buzzed. His brow furrowed when he checked it.

Jun-ho watched the muscles in his brother’s jaw shift as he read the message.

Then In-ho sighed.

“I’m sorry, bud,” he said gently. “Yuna’s not feeling great. The baby’s being fussy. She asked if I could keep him for a few hours so she can rest.”

“Oh,” Jun-ho said. “Okay.”

“It’ll still be fun,” In-ho promised. “We’ll just bring him along.”

But when Jun-ho saw the stroller in the backseat – when he saw the car seat already clipped in – it hit harder than he expected. The day hadn’t even started, and it already felt like it was slipping away from him.

At home, Eomma was waiting by the door when they pulled up. She greeted them both and leaned in to take Seo-jun, who had just started to stir. In-ho climbed out, unbuckled the baby, and handed him over with the kind of practiced ease Jun-ho had never known before.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Appa’s right here.”

Jun-ho flinched.

His feet froze on the sidewalk, hands curling into fists at his sides.

The warmth from earlier – gone. His smile – gone.

He stared at the pavement.

“Hey,” In-ho said, catching sight of him, voice gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

Jun-ho shrugged. Didn’t look up. His ears were hot.

“Jun-ho,” In-ho said again, stepping closer. He crouched down slowly until they were eye level. “Talk to me. Please.”

Jun-ho’s lips wobbled.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“You’re not.”

Jun-ho blinked fast. Too fast. He could feel the burn already building in the corners of his eyes, and he didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of everyone.

But In-ho didn’t stop. Didn’t let him retreat.

And Jun-ho broke.

“I said I’m fine –” he tried again, but it cracked in the middle. A sharp, shaky breath followed. His arms folded tight over his chest, shoulders rising.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered.

In-ho tilted his head. “What’s not?”

And then the words came. Quiet at first. Then louder. Looser. Like a storm that had been building for days.

“It’s not fair that he gets you.”

In-ho blinked. “What?”

“He gets you all the time!” Jun-ho cried. “You’re his appa. You live with him. You feed him. You carry him everywhere. But I was first! I was your brother first!”

His chest heaved with every word now, his voice cracking like ice under weight.

“I know you’re not my appa… but you used to be mine! And now he gets you and I get... I don’t know what I get. It’s like you left and no one told me.”

He scrubbed angrily at his cheeks, but the tears kept coming.

“I don’t want him to go away. I just want – I just want you back.”

In-ho didn’t speak.

He didn’t say ‘Don’t cry’ or ‘That’s not true’ or ‘You’ll understand someday.’

He just reached out and pulled Jun-ho into his arms.

And Jun-ho collapsed against him, face buried in his jacket, sobs quiet and hiccupping.

“I miss you,” he whispered. “I miss you all the time.”

“I know,” In-ho said, his own voice tight now. “I know, bud.”

His hand rubbed gently up and down Jun-ho’s back, slow and steady. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“You said it wouldn’t change,” Jun-ho mumbled.

“It shouldn’t have,” In-ho said softly. “You’re right. You were my little brother first.”

Jun-ho sniffled.

In-ho didn’t say anything for a long time.

He just held Jun-ho close, crouched on the sidewalk like the rest of the world could wait. Jun-ho’s breathing started to slow again, each inhale a little steadier than the one before. His fingers clung to the fabric of In-ho’s jacket like he didn’t trust it to stay.

“I’m sorry,” In-ho murmured again. “For not noticing sooner.”

Jun-ho nodded against his chest.

“You still are my little brother,” In-ho said. “That hasn’t changed. It never will.”

Jun-ho didn’t answer right away. His head stayed tucked under In-ho’s chin, his voice barely more than the hush of wind through leaves when he finally whispered –

“I wish you were my appa.”

In-ho froze.

The words were so quiet, so careful, he almost thought he imagined them.

But Jun-ho meant them. Every syllable.

Not because he didn’t love Eomma. Not because he didn’t know the difference.

But because Hyung was the one who showed up. Who packed his lunches and helped with homework. Who chased monsters from closets and sat beside him at school plays. Who knew all his weird thoughts and liked them anyway.

He didn’t look up after saying it.

He just stayed there. Still. Waiting.

In-ho’s heart cracked wide open.

He lowered his head, pressing a hand gently to the back of Jun-ho’s head.

“I’ll be whatever you need,” he said softly. “For as long as you need me.”

And Jun-ho leaned in again – just a little – and let himself believe it.

[piftamere]

twelve - hello kitty bandages (wc : 600; cw : blood)

it’s late, he’s sitting on her washing machine, she’s standing between his legs. a pile of blood soaked tissue paper and cotton pads fills the bathroom sink. a spray bottle of disinfectant in hand, the kind that stings. every so often, he winces, and she mumbles some curse word under her breath. she’s not a fucking nurse, he’s an idiot, he should've went to a hospital, it fucking won’t stop bleeding…

he’s being as quiet as he can. things were weird between them since the other night, and what his friends told him has been silently haunting the back of his mind. but after running out of the locker room with a busted lip and blood dripping down his hand and face, he could only think of one place to go. that’s how he ended up here, and even if it hurts, he has no regrets.

she’s focused, biting her lower lip in concentration, and under the dim light coming through the curtains, she looks beautiful.

when she’s done, his face is covered in hello kitty bandages.

she comes back from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas, holding out her hand. he places his bruised hand in hers.

she holds the bag a few inches away from his knuckles before speaking, “tell me what happened.”

he shakes his head. “you don’t need to know.”

her brows furrow, “don’t try to protect me.”

she’s holding up his gaze. she won’t give up until he explains.

he looks down at his hand. with a sigh, he whispers, “shion was talking shit.”

“about me?”

he nods, he still won’t look into her eyes. “you sure you wanna know?”

“i’m sure.”

“…he called you a slut. said you ‘begged for it’, he asked me if i ‘hit that yet’. i don’t remember what he said after that. i snapped. before i knew it, my fist was in his nose.”

he takes a quick look at her face, she’s lost in thought for a moment.

“thanks… i guess,” she mutters, as she sets the peas on his bruise. she stares in his eyes. she presses down hard on his hand, as if to emphasize her words. “but i’m not a damsel in distress. i don’t need you to defend my honor.”

“especially if you’re gonna get hurt.” she doesn’t say it, at least not with her words, but he reads it in her gaze. then again, maybe he only sees what he wants to see.

he winces, and with a chuckle he whispers, “yeah i know.”

hesitantly he reaches for her hand and links his uninjured fingers with hers. his thumb draws soothing circles into her skin. her shoulders relax.

“i hope he looks worse than you.”

“oh trust me, he does.” he smiles, the tear in his lip threatening to bleed again, before continuing, “sorry i won’t look nice on our date tomorrow.”

she shifts her weight on her feet, “don’t worry about that.”

she inches forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck. he rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. he places his hand on the small of her back, holding her closer.

he nuzzles his face into her hair, mumbling, “i should get going,” making no effort to move at all.

“and what? walk back to your place in this state?”

“someone can come pick me up.”

she insists, "did he hit you on the head? don't be an idiot. stay the night."

he chuckles, as he tightens his hold on her, the frozen peas falling on the ground. “okay.”

fun facts

atsumu was too upset about the loss to notice yn sneak away.

the bandages are yachi’s, it's all they had left.

yn's roommates went to celebrate the win but she wasn't in the mood to go with them.

atsumu and yn planned their date before the party and she was debating canceling it.

author's note

i really like this one :)

the men in this universe are lovely

play dumb! - next

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[deadbaguette]

I don't want to be repetitive but I love how you make the characters so tender and loving,,, so here's a weird request, do you have any scars hc? I mean, do (insert character) hide them? Or let their lover kiss and caress them? Oh, which characters I mean you say? Your pick, have fun!

It’s not repetitive at all 🥹 I love LOVE LOVE it when people describe my art as tender and loving because that’s absolutely my favourite thing to draw. But omggg scar headcannons … you just spoke to a specific part of my brain bcs I love thinking about scars, beauty marks, etc. I don’t have the time to make a fully fleshed out scar map, BUT alongside a small doodle for the character I have a definitive scar map for (Diomedes) I can share all the scars I hc and how they’re treated :D AUUGSGDH thank you for giving me the excuse to do this I always have so answering your asks <3

Scar hcs:

Firstly I think the only character I have a set in stone scar hc for is Diomedes! I draw him more often than I would like to admit, so the ones on his face are: one across his left eyebrow, one by his lip/mouth, one across the nose, one on the right cheek, one on the shoulder, one on the foot. He is the most scarred character I draw, and this is largely due to the fact that I hc him (it’s probably also to an extent canon) as reckless in battle. He’s not a pristine clean warrior, he’s all too familiar with blood and war. He carries the reckless scars he gained in Thebes with the other Epogoni throughout his adulthood, and for so long they served as a reminder of where he came from. Death and violence that’s haunted him throughout his entire life, and these scars are symbols of that. So, what’s a few more to gain in Troy? It’s not like it’ll make him look any less battle scarred if he gains a few more. He hasn’t had a good reason to care about his life until now, scars not only remind him of that but also make him feel like he can’t change it. But… I like to imagine the people that care for him (whether this be Odysseus, Sthenelus, or in an AU Penelope) treat them with such delicacy and care that it almost creates an entire other association for them. Sthenelus gently tending to a wound that will surely scar, so that when it does heal it no longer carries the association of a mistake in battle but instead a tender moment shared between them and them only. Odysseus and Penelope kissing the scars on Diomedes’ face is their favourite pasttime, because if he won’t love them (he feels indifferent to them), they absolutely will. A tender kiss to the cheek, a gentle kiss to just above his eye, a quick peck against the side of his mouth, a loving press against his nose that they would have to tiptoe to reach. Diomedes never felt any love, hatred, or feelings in general towards his scars. He never made any more to hide them, he wore what was convenient. If his new scars weren’t covered by the clothes he would wear, so be it. But in a way he’s grown to love them, or at least the memories and feelings they hold.

Will be more hcs below the cut!

Achilles is very unscarred. Like the only scar on his body by the time he was dead was the one on his heel. Patroclus is also relatively unscarred, but he has a few. There is one on his hand that Achilles loves to kiss, but like in a very specific way. I hc Patroclus to almost always the one to initiate the physical contact, and he tends to cradle Achilles’ face with his hand (literally one of my fav form of physical touch) and Achilles always leans into it and kisses the scar on his hand. Patroclus never really liked his scars, so he tends to cover them up. But I think I believe Achilles loved wholeheartedly every part of Patroclus and movements he’s spent with him and vice versa. Every scar he’s gained will have a story to tell, so even if Patroclus doesn’t show it to others, there is a story that Achilles will hear. It would be something as dramatic as gaining it in battle or something as small as “you got this when you fell from a tree? I love it.” They’re as much friends as they are lovers, and they actively choose to continue to be in each other’s lives. If this means sitting together recounting the tales of how Patroclus nicked himself carving wood a few years ago and scarred, so be it.

Hector… I need to talk about this one!!! So normal and sane about him. He’s undoubtedly scarred, what with him fighting at the front but he’s no Achilles. Hector hides his scars but not because he’s ashamed of them, it’s quite the contrary because he in a strange way enjoys looking at them, but rather that he knows it causes his family worry. Hector loves his family so much, and he sees the worry and sadness in their eyes when he comes back with new scars to Andromache. How she’ll stare at them like it’s another piece of him lost, and it won’t be long until he is wholly gone too. He hides them so she can focus on the him that’s there now, and comforts her saying that he will come back to her. When Kassandra looks at the new scars on his chest and she can’t help but sigh. She told him to be more careful, but truly in the end they’re both fighting a fruitless fight against the fates. Kassandra knows this, and she keeps count of how many her brother has until he gains his last lethal one. He’s hiding them so as to not cause his sister distress. She knows he will never believe her if she tells him what will happen to him, but she cannot help but mourn for the living man.

Agamemnon has quite a few scars. He’s the lord of men, the shepard of the people, and wealthy beyond what he needs. The scars don’t mean much to him, and if anything they’re even more a testament to his power. He’s no Achilles who can come out of battle unscarred, but perhaps that’s the difference in what makes him the leader of the Achaeans. The scars he bears are a symbol of his humanity and but don’t take away from his power and image. He SURVIVED these scars. But deep down? I do think it’s a little more complicated than this. I don’t think I’ve discussed Agamemnon that much, but I do find his character really interesting. His family name is uhh tarnished to say the least, but throughout all of it he’s had his brother with him. Agamemnon cares a lot about Menelaus, he goes to war for him, he sacrifices his daughter for him, and they endure 10 years of war together. Agamemnon maybe doesn’t care about his own, but he remembers every scar Menelaus has. Like that one scene in book 3 yk where he just starts doing all the dramatics of MENELAUS I WILL AVENGE YOU MY DEAR BROTHER and Menelaus is just sitting there… ever so slightly wounded… being like brother it’s fine and Agamemnon still goes like MACHAON DROP EVERYTHING AND TEND TO HIS WOUND IMMEDIATELY I WILL SLAUGHTER THESE DISHONOURABLE TROJANS FOR DARING TO LOOK IN YOUR DIRECTION MENELAUS. It’s just kinda silly and sweet how much he cares about his little brother. Ever scrape Menelaus got growing up I imagine it was Agamemnon tending to it, and remembers them all to prevent him getting hurt further. As an older brother, he made it his sworn duty to make sure Menelaus grew up strong and out of harms way.