#I may have been lead on (why am I so stupid)

[ksrlvr]

what is it with homoerotic teenage friendships and why are they so fucking awful.

[itsukicoded]

…..am i simple?

[lune-redd]

Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I'll never forgive y'all for beating down my friend for saying he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, even when he had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! I love your writing so much! It always gives me such a good chill and I absolutely adore the way the words all flow together! May I request a hero trying to escape from a villain and when the villain finally catches them there's a bit where they lift the hero's chin with a sword?

"Ah, good," the villain drawled. "You managed to apprehend our little runaway."

The hero grunted in pain, as the guards threw them down onto their knees. Their gaze darted around the room - a war room of maps and schemes too high up on the table for them to see properly, the dulled silver of the guards uniforms, and the perfectly polished leather boots standing not far ahead of them.

"Though not," the villain said, "without a little bloodshed, I see? Take yourself to the infirmary tent. I can handle him from here."

The hero's jaw clenched. They kept their head bowed, doing their best to keep their face obscured.

"My lord," the guard said.

As the room emptied, the hero tested the tightness of the ropes binding their wrists and ankles. They strained for the knots. No good. Before they could even start to rise, the villain had drawn their sword with a soft shick and pressed it to the hero's throat in one swift move.

"Suddenly shy?" the villain asked. "I was expecting spitted defiance and glares. Maybe some elegant spiel at what a monster I am and how I will never get away with this."

The hero said nothing.

The villain hummed, using the tip of the blade to tilt the hero's head up.

The hero braced themselves as their gazes met.

The villain froze.

The hero's lip curled; a smile most mocking.

"Guards!" the villain yelled.

The guards returned immediately from outside, even as the villain's attention stayed locked on the hero's face.

"Would you like to tell me," the villain's voice was silken, dangerous, "why you've captured the wrong person?"

"I - my lord?"

"This is not the prince. Do you not know your own prince?" the villain asked.

"But they - they wielded the royal blade, my lord - they -"

Power, dark and ominous, ripped through the room like a thousand shadowy swords appearing in the air.

The guards fell silent.

"Fooled ya," the hero rasped. "Sucker."

"Go to where you found them," the villain ordered. "The prince can't have got far-"

The guards stayed silent. They didn't move. The smile on the hero's lips grew a little more.

"What?" the villain snapped.

"They put up - that is - the fight and the chase went on for some time, my lord." The head guard sounded strained. "Any of their tracks would have been destroyed by our own. The prince is long gone, my lord."

The power struck in an instant.

The lead guard dropped, dripping blood from a thousand blade cuts. The hero managed not to flinch. Somehow.

"Would somebody like to try that again?" the villain asked.

"We'll find him, my lord," another guard said, pasty with sweat. "We'll go and look now."

Most of the guards left, on that hopeless errand. Someone dragged the head guard's body out. His blood was already beginning to turn inky.

The hero felt light-headed with a mixture of triumph and terror, as they eyed the villain over the hilt of their sword. The villain studied them in turn.

The running, after all, had been genuine. Escape had always been the plan. Still. They supposed the ruse had fulfilled its purpose either way, just so long as no one was stupid enough to come back for them.

"Who are you?" the villain demanded.

The hero shrugged.

The villain pressed the blade in a little harder. "Who. Are. you."

"I'm your tailor's assistant."

"...excuse me?"

"I help mend your clothes and the clothes of your soldiers," the hero said. "Thrilling, isn't it?"

The villain stared at the hero like they thought they might be joking. They weren't.

"You were skilled enough with a blade to fool my highest ranking officers."

The hero shrugged again.

The villain used the blade to tilt the hero's head the other way. "You really do look remarkably similar to the prince, on first glance."

"Bet you regret killing your own men in a strop now."

The villain draw the blade down again, opening the smallest wound. Blood pooled in the hero's collar bone, shimmering a faint, barely there silver.

"You're one of the king's bastards," the villain said.

The hero resisted the urge to swallow.

The villain's eyes narrowed, liquid shadow, as they seemed to consider their options, before a truly terrible smile flashed across their face. Charming. Beguiling.

They looked up at their guards.

"Take our little runaway to my quarters. Do make sure that they're secure this time, won't you?"

They definitely should have ran faster.

[hyukalyptus]

anything for you — beomgyu x reader w pierced nipples | established relationship. NSFW/MDNI!!!

cw. afab!chubby!reader has pierced nipples obvi, mentions of sexting/sending nudes, lots of nipple play, reader wears lingerie, unprotected sex, cumming on the tummy, a teeny bit of a voice kink for both, not proof-read too well. notes. happy kinktober! apparently i've been in a beomgyu mood recently?? i blame @agustdiv1ne for clouding my brain w beomgyu thoughts ever since telepathy tbh. honestly i don't rly love this, but lmk what y'all think <3 smut under cut. wc. 2.3K

“You look so sexy in all those pictures you’ve been sending me,” he says, his voice low and smokey, you can practically feel his breath on your neck. Not seeing each other in a few weeks often leads to desperate, longing texts to each other and the frequent nude photo from you. 

“I knew you’d like them,” you giggle. “I know you miss me.”

“I do.” Plopping down in his hotel chair, he sighs, exhausted from the day he’s had. “I miss you so fucking much, babe.” Oh, what would he be doing to you if you were there? Not just sitting in this stupid chair, that’s for sure. “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m at work, babe,” you say matter-of-factly. Damn. God, he’s been dreaming of having phone sex with you for weeks. Your voice in real life gets him going enough on its own, but the thought of getting off to just your voice…sounds magical. But between rehearsals, your job, and interviews, there’s never been a good time. “I was actually about to say I gotta go. I’m sorry.” You slouch over in your hand, longing for his touch just as much as him. “I did wanna tell you,” you start. “I have a  surprise for you when you get home.”

-

“You’re here.” Finally, after weeks apart, he’s standing in your doorway—it’s surreal. The way he smiles down at you, eyes already mentally undressing you while he kicks his shoes off, letting you grab his hand to drag him to your living room. 

Pushing him to the couch, you hover between his legs, knees pressed into the couch cushions as his hands rest on the small of your waist. 

“Ready for your surprise?” A smile appears on his lips. It’s all he’s been thinking about. 

“I dunno…am I?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Tilting your chin down, you look at his eyes sensually, like you’re about to scream. Reaching for his hands, you ask, “Why don’t you unbutton my shirt for me?” You wore that shirt just for this, just to watch him slowly undress you so you can see the absolutely delicious expression on his face. Nodding gently, he takes forever. You think you may burst. 

As your shirt falls to the floor, he looks over your body—every beautiful inch of it—your full tits spilling over the top of your bra, your tummy rolls looking so delicious and warm, your waist that holds his hands so perfectly. 

His expression drops, “Wait…what’s the surprise? I mean, your body’s enough of a surprise, but am I missing something?”

Shooting him a knowing look, you suggest, “Maybe you should take my bra off.” Reaching behind you, your heart pounds waiting for the snap. It always feels so good to take your bra off, but the look on his face when he sees—

“Oh my god…” he exhales, his eyes darting between both of your nipples with new barbell piercings through them. Your chest heaves with nervousness as you wait for his reaction. You expected an attack of lips and tongue, to be picked up and dragged to bed, maybe even to be fucked right on the couch.

But none of that happens. His eyes are wide, just staring at your tits. 

“D-do you like them?” You ask, eyes awkwardly diverting to the couch. 

“Are you kidding?” He sighs, sitting up straight, reaching for one of your tits, opening his mouth.

“Nope,” you giggle, pulling away from him. “You can’t lick them until they heal.”

“When will that be?”

“I got it done a few days ago…” you look up, biting the inside of your cheek. “So about a month left.”

“A month?” Collapsing back on the couch, his eyebrows stitch together, rubbing his temple before he whines, “But babe…”

“You’ll be alright,” you say, tussling his hair. 

SIghing, he says, “I guess so…” Eyes floating across your body, he can’t take them off you, god this is gonna be hard. “Stand back a second? I just wanna look at you.” How can he not put your nipples in his mouth for a whole month? Can he even touch you? How is he gonna get through a whole month without squeezing your gorgeous tits? You can tell some kind of internal conflict—almost existential crisis level—is going through his head. 

“Babe, calm down,” you giggle. “You can still squeeze my tits. You just can’t—” Yanking you forward by your fingertips, he hands urgently squeeze you. “Babe, babe,” you giggle. “Just avoid the nipples, okay?” Nodding rapidly, he buries his face between your cleavage, kneading them gently. “You really like them though, right?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Coming up for some air, he looks up at you through his lashes, breath heavy. “They’re sexy and…really pretty if I’m honest,” he says. Returning his mouth to you, he sucks and licks everywhere but your nipples and frankly, this might be tough for you too. 

-

A month later, you’d planned a dinner date and with your piercing finally healed, you can’t wait to get through it to get home. It’s been just as hard on you…make out sessions that would naturally move to his lips wrapped around your nipples ending in groans of realization, gasps at the sting of a squeeze that was a little too rough, you’re ready for them to be healed already.

It’ll all be worth it, though, you keep telling yourself. A month of suffering in order to look super fucking cool and hot the rest of your life? Definitely worth it. 

Sitting on the same side of the booth, you show enough PDA to make the whole restaurant cringe if you weren’t in a private dining room. Whispers of what he wants to do to you later make it more and more difficult to keep the fact your piercings are healed a secret. 

Back at your apartment door, your heartbeat races faster and faster as you unlock your door. Both of you know where this is going—it’s where almost all dates lead to—but only you know his lips will once again be on your—pierced—nipples.

As soon as your shoes are kicked off, he slyly leads you to your bed, hands already following the curves of your body as he rips clothes off your body until there’s nothing left but your cute lingerie. 

Reaching behind you, he unclasps your bra as he lets out a sigh, eyebrows stitching together at the sight of you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body. 

“Babe…your body,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “It’s just,” he exhales, running his hands all over you. “Perfect.”

“I know,” you giggle to yourself proudly, loving when he’s so desperate to touch you. Lips attached to your neck, fingertips trace random shapes on your thigh. He’s wanting to take his time tonight, you think to yourself. 

“You know…” you sing and he hums in response, still covering your body with kisses. “It’s been about a month since I got my piercings.” 

Backing off quickly, he asks, “Are you saying…?” Eyes wide with anticipation, you bite your lip and nod. Practically giddy, he sits up to ask, “They’re healed?”

“Not completely, so you still need to be careful.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so excited to lick you—almost in a pant as he squeezes you experimentally. He’s so cute. 

“Are you sure? It’s not gonna hurt?”

“I’m sure.” You nod. “Go ahead.” Kissing around your nipple, his lips barely miss the most sensitive part of you. Blowing it gently, he watches it pucker even more than it was with the jewelry through it, a gleam in his eye at your body reacting without him even touching you. Finally pressing his lips to it, you flinch at the tenderness. 

“Good?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “They’re still a little sensitive, but I’m okay,” you say, your chest heaving. Flicking his tongue over it, he groans in relief, eyes snapping shut. Feeling you relax, he’s not playing around anymore. Squeezing you harder, licking you more furiously, he gently sucks you into his mouth, experimenting a bit, carefully listening for your moans of approval. 

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you shove his face down just to have a little bit more. You’d forgotten just how fucking good it felt to have his mouth on your nipples. It’s magical. You’re flooded with anticipation. You need him. Bad. But you want him to take his time too. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he says, repositioning to straddle your hips. After sucking enough to leave marks that’ll show up tomorrow morning, you pull him closer by the nape of his neck to press your lips to his. “Get on top of me for a bit.”

Flipping on his back, he pulls you over his hips, forcing you to lean against the headboard with your forearms, giving him easy access to your tits that fall right in front of his face. You're losing patience. His tongue feels so good, but your nipples are tired. It’s starting to get a bit overwhelming. You need him somewhere else.

“Babe, babe,” you say breathlessly. “I think that’s enough—” Shaking his head, he mumbles a nuh-uh into your chest. “Yeah-huh.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. Gliding his hands down your back, he squeezes your ass harshly before gliding across your clit with his thumb. Gasping, your patience starts to run thinner and thinner. 

Lifting your body up, you say, “Sit criss-cross. Following your instructions, your legs wrap around his hips and you kiss him again, his hands exploring your body. Fuck, you need him. 

“Baby,” you sigh between kisses. “Please. I need your cock so bad.”

“Already?”

“You’ve been licking my nipples for an hour,” you giggle. “I’m getting impatient.” Grinding down on him, he’s painfully hard underneath you and god, you just want him inside already. Reaching for his cock, your eyebrows raise, silently asking permission. After earning a nod from him, you slowly sink down, a groan leaving your throat. 

Arching your back, his mouth finds your tits again while his hips thrust into you as if they have a mind of their own. Almost instantaneously, he finds a sensitive spot inside you. 

“You look so sexy in my lap like this,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your chest. Moaning, your head falls back while he grabs your thighs, giving you a good spank. “Your tits are gorgeous,” he says, making you chuckle. “What a great fucking view.” 

The sudden feeling of his mouth on your nipple makes you yelp—you’re still so sensitive. He halts, looking up at you worriedly, asking if you’re alright. . 

“Yes, yes—” you say breathlessly. “It just feels amazing.” He smirks, returning his mouth to you, his tongue never leaving your skin. Stretching his hand over your tummy, his thumb rubs circles over your clit, adding even more sensitivity. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so fast.” You gasp. You’re so fucking close. 

“That’s it, baby.” That fucking sentence. That sentence on it’s own is enough to send shivers down your spine, but the way he says it with that deep fucking voice is incredible. It makes your stomach tie itself in knots, it turns your cheeks red, and makes your head light. “Cum on me,” he says, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips. “Cum all over my fucking cock, babe.” 

With a few final bounces, you let yourself go, cumming hard around him. The feeling you’ve been waiting for crashes over you. Sure, you’d had sex while your piercings were healing, but not having his tongue on your nipples simply wasn’t the same. This new heightened sensitivity has your head reeling. Your shuddering legs can hardly hold your own body up. You’re damp with sweat. 

And fuck does he look good, smirking up at you with that cocky smile, watching you ride out your high. He loves having you cum like this. You look so helpless trying to hold yourself up. 

He doesn’t waste much more time though. Once you catch your breath, he flips you on your back, pinning your hands over your head to kiss you harshly. Thrusting into you again, he stares down at your bouncing tits, gripping one with his left hand, his thumb carefully pressing into your nipple. 

As you moan through gritted teeth, he digs into you, beads of sweat forming at his forehead as he focuses on his movements and making himself feel you. You already had your turn. 

And fuck do you feel good. He’s simply using you as a cocksleeve at this point and you can’t get enough of it. Neither can he. The image of your bouncing tits with pierced nipples is too fucking good. But combine that with your absolutely soaking pussy, he’s in heaven. 

As his thrusts get uneven, he groans, pulling out to pump himself a few times to finish on your tummy. He’s never done this before. He’s always finished inside you or he’s finished on your back and you’ve never seen him touch himself like this. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. You’d be happy if that was the last image you ever saw. 

Leaving a sloppy kiss on your forehead, he sluggishly stands, leaving you and your heaving chest on your back with your tummy covered in his cum. You’d recovered from your own orgasm, but you’re still short circuiting over seeing him jerk off in front of you. 

“What?” He chuckles at your blank face as he returns with a damp towel. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he snaps you out of your trance. “I gotta say,” you start. “I really liked watching you touch yourself there at the end. I don’t think you’ve ever done that in front of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…will you do that more often for me?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you, babe.”

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Mer-May

steddie, omegaverse, mdni🔞, inspired by Emma’s (crybabyao3 on twt) mersteve and pearls

Eddie didn’t believe the kids at first when they said they found a mermaid. Especially after Dustin explained that he didn’t have a tail.

“He said he got it taken away by a sea witch. That she’s helping him find his alpha.”

“And just where is this tailless mermaid anyway?” Eddie asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“We’re hiding him at Hopper’s beach house for now,” Lucas starts.

“Yeah, he’s not exactly dressed for us to bring him out in public,” Max adds with a smirk.

Eddie shakes his head, rubs at his eyes. “Please tell me you don’t have a naked omega sitting in Hopper’s place. He’s gonna freak.”

“That’s why you need to come with us, get him out of there. You’ve gotta bring him to your place,” Dustin says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Eddie wants to argue, but instead he grabs the keys for his van. “Fine. But I need to meet the guys in an hour, Joyce got us a gig down at the Surf Shack.” It’s a big step up from the high school beach parties they usually play, since they’re getting paid in more than shitty beer and enough money for gas.

“Thank you, let’s move!” Mike yells, grabbing Dustin to lead the group out to the parking lot.

The kids yell the whole way, recounting how the found Steve—the mermaid’s name is Steve  for chrissakes—wandering the beach, completely unsteady on his feet. Max thought he was drunk, but El was worried he was hurt, so they asked him what was wrong and he spilled everything.

He probably found the best group of 12-year-olds possible, since they believed him.

Reaching Hopper’s beach house, Eddie cuts the engine, doesn’t bother waiting for the kids as he heads inside; they catch up almost instantly anyway.

“Steve! We’re back!” Dustin yells as he walks through the side door behind El, since she’s the one with a key.

“We brought our friend Eddie, he’s got his own place so you won’t need to hide there,” Max adds, right on Dustin’s heels.

Eddie is prepared for nudity as he hears awkward shuffling from down the hall. But that’s not what he gets.

Steve walks into the kitchen covered in pearls. The bits of fabric they’re attached to fit perfectly around his torso, but have been tied to cover his bottom a bit haphazardly.

The pearls must be worth a fortune, what with the size and color, but all of Eddie’s focus is drawn by the man’s beautiful face, flecked with moles, his eyes the rich brown-green of sea kelp.

More importantly, his face lights up with his smile. “Thank you! I don’t want to be any trouble, but I’m so grateful for your help!” At first, his smile is just for the kids. But then he looks up, and his eyes go soft.

When his eyes lock with Eddie’s.

“Hi,” Eddie manages to make his stupid mouth say.

“Hello,” Steve answers, not as dumb, but just as soft. “I’ll be staying with you?”

“Yes!” Dustin answers for him. “Eddie has his own apartment, you’ll be safe there.”

“Okay, shitheads—and El—get on back to whatever you were up to before, I’ll get Steve settled.”

The kids try to protest, but Steve agrees, says he won’t be interesting the rest of the day since he’s tired. It’s true, since he dozes off in the van on the way to Eddie’s. He looks so peaceful it pains Eddie to wake him.

But he does, gently, gets another soft smile as he escorts Steve up to his second-floor apartment.

“I’ve got clothes you can borrow for now, then we can find you something you like. But I’m pretty sure you’d get a citation for indecent exposure if you went out in that again.”

“Oh,” Steve says, sadly looking down at his chest. “I wanted to be wearing it when I found my alpha. My pearls show I am ready to be claimed, that I have my dowry for my mate.”

“Did you harvest them all? That’s a lot of oysters to open, especially for the colors,” Eddie says, unable to hide the awe in his voice.

“No, they’re my pearls,” Steve says, like Eddie should understand more than he does. “Mers lay eggs, and if they aren’t fertilized they become pearls. These are the pearls from my heats.”

Eddie suddenly feels the need to readjust himself. “From your heats,” he repeats softly.

“That’s why they’re for my alpha, to show I’m ready for pups.”

“But your alpha is here, on land?”

“Yes!”

“Then you aren’t going to be laying any more eggs, sweetheart. That’s not how heats work for humans.”

Steve’s hand rests low on his belly, covering the perfect circle of pearls. “I know.”

“And how do you know your alpha is here? You can’t have gotten close enough to scent him.”

“I heard him, playing my heartsong. I hear it every so often, coming from the shore, fast like my heartbeat, like he needs to scream to the world. Like he’s calling for me.”

That really piques Eddie’s interest. “He’s playing on the beach? Is he alone?”

“Not always, but I can still pick him out, that’s how heartsongs work.”

Eddie’s mouth feels too dry, and he swallows hard. “Can you hum any of it? Maybe I’ve heard it before, can help you find him faster.”

Steve smiles, hums a melody Eddie knows all too well. One he based on the songs his mother would sing him when he was little. Without a word, Eddie reaches for his acoustic guitar, easily taking over the melody from Steve, playing on as the omega falls quiet.

When Eddie stops, he looks up to see Steve’s big eyes, tears on his cheeks. “It’s you,” he whispers, reverent as he steps closer, far more sure on his new legs now.

“I guess it is.” Eddie puts down the guitar and pulls Steve close, finally scenting at his neck and feeling like there are new colors in his world as he smells waterlilies and coconut and fresh salt air.

Steve leans in first, kissing his mouth, awkwardly guiding Eddie’s hands to tease at his nipples through the gaps in the pearls. Then he grips Eddie’s hips, pulls their groins together and moans at the feeling of his alpha’s cock pressing against his new, human pussy.

“Alpha, please!” he groans. “Want to feel you.”

Eddie obliges, pulls at the ties over Steve’s ass, lets the fabric fall from between his legs, and carefully traces his fingers along his seam, already wet with slick. 

He doesn’t have time to knot Steve. Not if he wants to make it to the gig. So instead, he guides Steve to sit on the couch, Eddie kneeling between his thighs, using his mouth to make his omega come.

————

Steve accompanies Eddie to the gig that night. He’s wearing his clothes: a black band tee and ripped jeans that cover a bite high on his thigh.

Eddie has a single, blue-grey pearl added to the chain around his throat.

part 2

[tojisun]

sunnyyy!! omg omg okay so idk what you put in your toxic dbf series but im sure its crack cause i know its freaking hurtful but i love it!! ur mind is >>>>>

alsoooo, i have this idea that i plan on writing for miguel but idk where to start SO IM GIVINF IT TO YOUUU!!

so lets call her bunny in this one. say bunny is enough of his shit, won’t let him do her dirty anymore because she refuses to be stupid. she’s no longer cassie howard and moves on to another man. a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid to let her know that he wants her. he’ll cherish her, he adores the fuck out of her, he shows her off and he makes a promise to put a ring on her finger,

but simon doesn’t like that. not even one bit. and it ticks him off because why is he like this? why is he so worked up that she finds someone who finally treats her better than she can? yet, he can’t let it go. he lets her know. she has to know.

and so, at two am he comes knocking at her door. flowers in his hand, nicely dressed for the first time to let her know that he’s doing it for her and only her. not erin.

and it takes a lot in her to not slam the door in his face because she’s happy right now,

“you look at him the way i wanted to be looked by you, sweetheart” he admits, swallowing the lump in his throat. “and i envy that.”

she stares at him with a deadpan look. not really feeling a single thing anymore, leading him to continue.

“i have no right to say that, i know but—“ he pauses to take a deep breath. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me”

she doesn’t want him to

ANA?? ANA MY LOVE???? THIS MAKES ME VIOLENTLY ILL

thinking about this in the dbf!simon series??? oh but im absolutely sobbing // same timeline as this !!

thinking about how you cry and wail and mourn for the years wasted on simon. thinking about the way you crumple on your bed, curling underneath your sheets, your cries now having been reduced to silent tears—this doesn’t mean you feel any better. instead, you feel even more distraught, upset in a way that feels bigger than yourself.

thinking about the promise you make to yourself. how, when the morning breaks, you will move on. that no matter how painful it may be—and it will be—you will strive to let go of simon. truly and completely this time around.

and that’s what you do. you fall asleep in exhaustion, heart heavy and mind buzzed. in the morning, you blink your eyes open and lay in bed for a few more minutes, suspended above your heartbreak, before it all comes crashing down on you. tears trickle from the corners of your eyes but you stay resolute, strong grip corralling your grief into the corner of your heart, before you get your day going.

you start by throwing everything that reminds you of simon: polaroid pictures and framed photos, shirts and clothes and socks and lingeries, towels and bedsheets, trinkets and accessories from across the globe—little souvenirs he’s brought to appease you.

(in the long haul, many of them were actually donated, while some were sold. but today, as you submerged yourself in your heartache, you dumped everything in a black garbage bag. out of sight, out of mind.)

blocking simon’s number actually turned out to be last. you deleted the pictures you have with simon in your phone prior, and then blocked and deleted his number altogether.

you breathed in deeply once you’re finished and collapsed to your bed again, trying to ignore the bareness of the walls and the emptiness of your room (let alone your heart).

the tears come again—they will come more often than not—and you let them. you open the locked corner of your heart and let the grief out. you mourn for what was lost; for what could’ve been. but most importantly, you mourn for the ways you’ve let yourself be trapped in such an unhappy moment.

moving on comes slowly; it comes so torturously that you thought it would never happen. but it does, and it does so during one quiet afternoon.

on that day, you realize that not once did you think of simon. not once did the memories trickle in to rip you away from the jovial present. and as you stand there in your kitchen, the sounds of the microwave beeps piercing through mutedly, you feel remade.

you feel whole, once again.

-

simon noticed, of course. he noticed the way your messages stopped coming in, or the way you no longer use your dad as an excuse to meet simon, or the way you just fell off the radar.

simon tried to reach out to you once and realized that you’ve got his number blocked.

it’s whatever, he thinks. because simon has never known you well, has never tried to learn more about you, so he thinks that this—your silent treatment and your detachment—is all a ploy. something like you playing hard-to-get.

so simon doesn’t think much about it until days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months are slowly building up to turn to a year.

simon doesn’t hear from you and, despite all his posturing, he realizes that he’s missed you. so he decides to drive by to pick you up for dinner and maybe apologize for whatever it is now that he’s done.

he gets to your dorm and rings your room. the intercom scratches awake, the person from the other side, your dorm mate he’s sure, asks who it was, and simon tells them his name. then, he tells them that he’s here for you.

there is silence for a while, almost loaded in a way that simon knows it’s not the intercom breaking up, and he gets his answer when he’s given a curt reply of, “she doesn’t want to see you. bye.” there is the distinct screech and then the line drops before simon could even ask why.

and simon feels lost. untethered.

-

john is a good man. that’s the first thing you realized. it terrified you, at first, how much you looked forward to meeting him. how much of being with him—simon’s friend—makes you happy.

you waited for the other shoe to drop, shoulders perpetually hunched as though that can shield you from the inevitable of john leaving you. of john using you.

but john is so warm. john is so gentle and kind and patient and loving.

john holds your hand and you know he isn’t looking for more. he drops you off at home, tells you to rest well and to say hi to your dorm mates, before taking off on his bike.

john kisses your cheeks and you know he isn’t looking for something more passionate. more heated. and you crave for his touch, yes, but there is something so special in the way john shows his affection—all crinkled smile and quiet chuckles; all whispered words and promises fulfilled; all soft and tender and secure.

it was a love so different, so beautiful, so really it wasn’t surprising at all when your relationship grows, thriving alongside your healing.

(he promised, you know? he promised, as he played with your hand, that he’ll one day put a ring on your finger. your lips wobbled and you told him to stop making loaded promises such as that, but john just turned to you with a soft smile and said, “i look forward to the day we share the same vow, bunny. if you would have me.”

you hiccupped sob and threw your arms over his shoulders, nodding because, “i would. john, i would!”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and sharing warmth with you. you burrowed your head on the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence wash over you.

john, you thought. johnjohnjohn.)

-

simon drives to you the day after he confronted john. he drives to you with all of his messy heart spilling from the ridges of his ribs, beating only one name—yours.

he’s never felt this way before. not with all the pretty people he’s gone out with, or his first love, or even erin. erin who simon once imagined a future with. erin who simon once loved. not even that could triumph over the expanding turmoil that simon’s basking in.

he calls on the intercom of your dorm again, begs your roommate that may you please hear him out, and then he sees you.

god, you’re just as beautiful as he remembers.

“love–”

“what’re you doing here?”

your words are soft, quiet, but simon isn’t fooled. he sees the anger in your eyes, the hurt having festered into resentment. he wonders how apologies could trickle from his lips—where to even begin?

“please,” you say when simon’s silence stretches on. “just tell me whatever you want and then leave.”

“this. this is what i’m here for. the anger in your eyes– it’s just–…” he breathes in sharply. “i saw you and john, you know? and the way you look at him, it’s how i want to be looked at by you, love.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “i didn’t know what i had until i lost you and i’m so envious of him, i am, so please.”

you stare at him with wide eyes even when your face is smooth of any emotion. simon wonders what you must be thinking but he bulldozes through, hoping that you can give him one last chance.

he promises this time, truly, he’ll be better.

“i have no right to say this, i know, but–” he pauses to take a deep breath, his fists balled tightly. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me.”

a heartbeat passes, and then, “simon, you are a selfish, selfish man.”

your words are barely louder than a whisper but they scratch at simon’s heart. he looks at you, gaze turning desperate when he sees nothing but bubbling fury and disappointment in your own.

“how dare you,” you say. “you tell me that you saw me and john, and then what? instead of letting me go, instead of letting me move on, you come in here and demand that i return to you?”

“love, i–”

“don’t call me that!”

your anger tips over, now spilling out. he watches the way your eyes glisten, tears dripping to stain your cheeks.

“i’m not your anything, si! not anymore!” you take in a ragged rasp of air, choking on your sob. it tugs at simon’s heartstrings and he moves to comfort you but you pull away, sneering at him in your anger. you wipe at your eyes, scrubbing furiously.

“everything about what you’ve said just now, everything, was all about your wants. all about you. just like how it’s always been,” you murmur, the fight leaving you.

you looked small, hunching into yourself, and simon is hit with this feeling; something that lodges itself in his throat.

“lov–… i’m sorry,” he says because he is.

gods he is.

“just go,” you tell him, meeting his eyes for one last time because he knows that this is the end of it all.

you turn away from him then, closing the building door behind you. he watches from behind he glass doors as you disappear into the hallways and stepped into the elevators and, just like that, simon’s lost his chance of making things right.

ANA MY GOD THIS MADE ME FERAL!! i hope u would like this one bb :(( hope i gave ur vision justice

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!athanasia de alger obelia with fem!reader headcanons

Warning: OOC, obsessive behavior, implied violence, mention of death, stalking, implied manipulation.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, hope you all have had a lovely winter solstice and a Merry Christmas! Somehow, this fic got deleted, so I'm re-uploading it! Special thanks to @lxdymoon0357 for helping me write this fic. Check out their content, it is amazing!

Just a heads-up, I am temporarily removing Loving Promise on a Broken Ring from the masterlist so that I can polish it to be the best version it can be. When it's ready, I will post the fic back onto the blog. I will be posting a couple of fics in 2024 here and on my other blog, @an-idyllic-novelist.

These headcanons can see read as either romantic or platonic :)

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive inside the pages of novel.

Amongst the supporting characters Anthanasia had read about in The Lovely Princess, there was one person who had stayed beside the original First Princess of the Obelia Empire even when it seemed like the entire world was against her: [First Name] [Last Name].

[First Name] [Last Name] had come from a well-known family, trained by Felix Robane himself until she was worthy enough to be sworn as the ‘sword’ and ‘shield’ of the First Princess, her personal gaurd. Although Jeannette had won over Claude’s affection with her unrealistic optimism and kindness, [First Name] was not swayed over to the female lead’s side. Nor did she believe Anthansia would try to poison her own half-sister out of spite. In fact, she had been the only one.

Regardless of what the knight believed, however, the First Princess still died by the Emperor’s hand. The loss of Anthansia drove [First Name] to commit suicide in her grief, and then she disappeared for the rest of the novel. After Chapter 9 in The Lovely Princess, the novel’s world revolved around Jennette Margarita and the male lead.

…Which is complete and utter bullshit! [First Name] went through so much character development in the spin-off stories featuring Anathansia, which she had actually enjoyed reading a lot more than the original content. Why would the author throw that out of the window again like she did with Lily’s character?! Augh, stupid book, stupid writer!

Now that she had been reborn as Anthansia, she refuses to allow events in the novel’s timeline that will endanger her life before and after she turned eighteen. Anthy's initial plan had been to steal as much as she could from the Ruby Palace, hoarding it in a secret area until there was enough funds to escape the country.

Plan A went up in smoke because she had met Claude four years earlier. Now….God, she had to act cute and try to make sure he doesn’t get bored of her or else he’ll kill her! He’s a meanie! A tyrant! What kind of asshole would just sit and watch his daughter drown in the lake or carry her like a sack of potatoes! If there’s anything that was remotely positive about this series of unfortunate events is that she got to know Felix.

Felix was nicer than Claude, and he was the one who had recognized [First Name]’s potential to become her knight!

Maybe. Maybe if she played her cards right with the Emperor and Felix, she’ll get [First Name] to come to her palace sooner!

But if Anthy does that, then [First Name] will have to go through two, or even four years of training under her Daddy’s personal guard until she is deemed qualified to protect a member of the royal family! Argh, even calling Claude that name is embarrassing enough!

And yet…

If she does change the story even a little bit for the sake of her survival and bring her favorite character here sooner than how it’s written, then…[First Name] won’t throw her life away as she had done in the original work. She’ll get to live a comfy life here, train to her heart’s content, maybe even join Anthy for tea parties! Anthy would like that very much, and she definitely wouldn’t tell her to take ten steps back when they walk through the palace together.

Then when the time is right…when Anthy is able to leave the palace and allow her half-sister to become the new princess in everyone’s lives….she’ll bring [First Name] with her. After all, there’s no other reason for Anthy to stay here except for Lily. And a lady always needs an escort wherever she goes, right?

….Right?

Athanasia de Alger Obelia will use her intellect and charm to ensure that you, her most precious knight and favorite character, will survive the series of unfortunate events that were written in this crappy novel world. Even if it means she will have to play the part of a sweet and cute daughter in front of the man who had caused her death in the first place.

If she wants to go for a stroll in the garden or gets dragged to go on a boat ride with Claude, make sure to stay nearby. She doesn’t want to lose sight of you.

Athy will insist that you come to her tea parties too. She would love to see you in a dress, but knows it would damage your reputation if she began to treat you, someone of a lower status, as an equal…even though she desperately wants to.

When there is time in her busy schedule, she will come and seek you out at the palace training grounds. She wants to see how you are progressing under Felix’s guidance and be assured that you aren’t being treated badly by the rest of calvary. If you are, just say or point your finger at the culprit. She will handle the matter personally.

No hard feelings if she becomes a little bit clingy though, okay? Athy adores you, and it’s normal to spend a lot of time with a person that you like from morning to night. Just don’t leave her for side. That’s all you have to do….if you want to survive in this hellhole. Don’t even think about asking the court magician about the princess’ behavior towards you. Luca will just shake his head in pity, wondering how in the world did the princess become so infatuated with someone like yourself and not see Duke Alpheus’ son stares at Her Highness with that same disgusting expression.

Taglist

@nunezs-stuff

@that-one-pretty-bitch

@swallowtailcherry

@dxmoness

@dragonempress18

@abelheilonwife

@sleep-all-day-everyday

@technikerin23

@gyatdamnpookie

@lyomeii

[hinaaspanda]

the act of love | p.sh

pairing: idol actor! park sunghoon x idol actor! fem reader warnings: swearing, mentions of food + dieting, alcohol genre: enemies to lovers, secret pining, angst, slight fluff, smut: protected sex, fingering, slight dirty talk and praise wc: 10,639

Park Sunghoon was heartless; you were convinced. After selfishly leaving you for another company, Park Sunghoon was now your enemy. Now, with years past and both of your careers sky rocketing as famous idols, you thought you were done dealing with him. However, life had other plans; placing the two of you as main leads in an upcoming romantic drama!

hi! after months of writers block i am finally back with another sunghoon fic! i missed writing for my bae! also, this fic mentions idols not being allowed in relationships, so i just wanna make it clear; i know idols can probably date if they wanted to (unless theres a dating ban) and theyre entilited to their personal lives! i just wanted to add drama teehee. anyways, enjoy!

“Go out with me.” 

His voice rasped against your skin, his face mere centimetres from yours; lips even closer. Puffs of the cold air sprouted at each hitched breath, every impatient inhale. Rain drizzled around you, encasing your frames like a protective barrier. The world was no one else’s but yours. The streetlamp cast a warm light against your figures; in the spotlight of your own stage. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather. It sends shivers down your spine. Your pounding heart leaped from your chest, getting stuck between the walls of your throat. His eyes bore through your frame, keeping yours locked in its grasp. 

“I-”

“CUT!”

The muffled, yet heavily amplified voice of your director shocked your ears through the megaphone. Well, yours and the rest of the staff that surrounded you and your co-star. You jolted, eyes quickly scanning the filming set, complete with the fake rain machines, fans, and stage lights. Eventually they landed on your director, whose ears were practically puffing out steam. 

“You’re late again, y/n!” The director irritatedly reminds you, pinching the bridge of his nose. You wince, beating yourself up for your stupid mistake. He only sighs, his face growing less red, his tone becoming more forgiving. “Memorise your queues, okay? Now, that’s a wrap for today. Good work!” 

After your director finally dismisses the clamour of staff members and actors, clacks of footsteps  suddenly peak from behind you. You only roll your eyes. You knew exactly who it was, and he didn’t deserve even an ounce of your attention. 

Park Sunghoon. The man you hated most. 

The man you were forced to work with for this stupid idol drama. 

“If you needed my help you could’ve just said so,” Sunghoon crossed his arm, his face cold and indifferent. You scowled. His words may have seemed innocent, helpful even. But his snarky tone made it overwhelmingly clear; his words were nothing but harsh insults. 

Park Sunghoon was just heartless like that.

“Piss off, will you? I didn’t have enough time!” You were telling the truth; your schedule had been jam packed with dance practice and promotional events—the typical life of an idol. You puff your chest out like some dumb chicken, only earning a huff from Sunghoon’s lips as he steps closer to you. You couldn’t help but notice how much he towered over your frame with his lanky one. How small locks of his hair hung above his eyes like curtains. He probably got a kick out of it all. The thought alone made you sick.

“And whose fault is that?” Sunghoon only cocked an eyebrow. 

Mine, you thought bitterly. You hated when he was right. 

“Why don’t you rehearse the scene where you learn to shut up?” You spat back instead. With that, you spun away from him, retreating to your change room within the filming set. Leaving Park Sunghoon to fend for himself.

Truth be told, you didn't always hate him. Years ago, you and Sunghoon were actually close. Best friends, in fact. The both of you grew up together, spent your school years together, and you shared the dream of stardom and fame. You both wanted to be idols, and so you auditioned for the same company. 

Amidst all of this, the two of you swore on one sole promise; never leave the other behind. To never put the likes of stardom and fame before your friendship. Of course you were able to hold your end of the bargain. But Sunghoon? He couldn’t quite say the same. 

It was two years into training with the company. Sunghoon had grown awfully distant from you. For some, the changes were subtle, practically unnoticeable. You, however, certainly noticed, but you never thought much of it. Always hiding your feelings under the guise of your busy, clashing schedules. Always making excuses for his heartless actions—until Sunghoon told you he was leaving the company. 

You remembered it as if it was yesterday. His eyes held no emotion. His posture was calm, laid back. Another, bigger company, was offering him a higher pay and a debut date that was fast approaching. You thought it was crazy. You were sure he would never switch so easily. He wouldn’t break the promise the two of you made years ago. He wouldn’t betray you in just the blink of an eye.

You were wrong.

He announced that he would officially leave in a week, but his dorm was empty in just two days—it was no surprise that he lied. Nevertheless, in those same two days, you vowed to make an enemy out of Park Sunghoon; the man heartless enough to betray you.

And yet, you were here. Stuck as his co-star for an idol drama you didn’t even want. Just to listen to your company's orders. It irked you beyond belief. 

You haphazardly threw your purse over your shoulder, adjusting the hem of your hoodie before heading out the door to meet your manager. 

ENHYPEN’s Park Sunghoon and HEARTBEAT’s Ahn y/n to star in upcoming drama

You found yourself scowling at the article in front of you, the glare of the laptop screen burning white against the darkness of your bedroom. With a huff, your head sunk further into the plush of the pillow, your frame burying itself into the covers. Maybe then, you could hide away from this cursed reality. This cursed world in which you were stuck working with the man you loathed. 

The article purged open the gates of your mind, allowing memories to seep through. Unwanted memories of Park Sunghoon. Staying up past your curfews just to practise together; ‘practising’ your vocal lessons at the karaoke bar down the street from your dorms; secretly rigging group games so the two of you ended up together. Now, they were all just bittersweet memories that plagued your mind.  

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you missed those times. A small sliver of you wouldn’t mind miraculously travelling back in time just to see your best friend again. To relive those memories once again. 

Nevertheless, the Park Sunghoon you were forced to work with was not your childhood friend. In your eyes, he was a complete stranger. 

Throwing a stuffie at your laptop, you bit the inside of your cheek, tucking your face into your knees. Even when you first reunited for the first day of shooting, that asshole didn’t even bother to apologise. You could barely recognize him.

“Throwing your stuffies at his picture won’t get rid of him, you know.” A voice rang in your ears. Kiri—your team’s main dancer and your roommate—slumped against the doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest. Kiri inches forward sitting on the edge of your bed as you huff a groan. “It should. You’d think we’d have the technology for it by now.”

“You think anyone’s petty enough to make something like that?”

“Not petty. Efficient,” you crossed your arms.

Kiri leaned back, tilting her head. “How are you two ever gonna work together if you can’t even stand his picture?”

“I don’t know! They probably should’ve thought of that before slapping our names on a contract neither of us even wanted!” Your arms flailed in defeat. 

“Maybe it’s a sign?” Kiri hesitated. “Like—the universe wanted the two of you to make up, or something.”

Your figure erupts in laughter, but Kiri’s unflinching demeanour suggests that she wasn’t trying to make you laugh with a joke. Your giggles fizzle out within seconds. “You’re serious?”

Kiri only huffs, shooting up from her seat. “I dunno, but just give him a chance. Maybe Sunghoon changed for the better?”

You watched Kiri’s back as she trekked out of your room. You only scoffed. Now that was something impossible.

Despite the relentless physical activities, and clamour of people within the building, going to the gym was one of your favourite pastimes. It allowed you and your teammates to unwind after a long day of idol activities. All of your worries and troubles—washed away by a quick jog on the treadmill. 

Right now, you needed that more than anything. 

“Gonna run today?” Kiri probed, sinking into a wide leg stretch and twisting her shoulders around. You hum positive, crossing your arm over in a stretch. “Yeah, I need to clear my head.”

Kiri only nodded, yanking dumbbells off of a community rack before sinking into the first squat of her first session. You trek a few paces over to the treadmill aisles, sliding your headphones over your ears and swiping at your phone screen to play some music. Soon enough, you were off, your heels and toes pressing repeatedly onto the platform, your heart rate rising at a steady pace. Step by step, your mind was gradually clearing, de-stressing. Like a cloud flying away from an otherwise bluesky, all of your worries surrounding your idol activities, that stupid drama, and that stupid Park Sunghoon whisked themselves away. For once in what seemed like forever, you were at peace.

“y/n.”

A voice roughly jolted you back to reality. Hastily, you push your headphones off, hooking them around your neck before glancing around to find the owner of the voice. The voice that ruined your peaceful evening. 

You choke. 

Park Sunghoon stood before you, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned back in a nonchalant manner. You took note of his black shirt; the way it was tight enough to see his chest peeking through, the way his short sleeves were rolled up, exposing his biceps. You cursed at yourself for looking.

You simply stood there, eyes wide and spilling from their sockets. Your hand snakes up, fiddling with the treadmill dashboard to stop the equipment from moving. You cling onto the handle bars; maybe for stability, maybe for protection. You weren’t sure. You glance to the side, another figure taking up your view. He looked vaguely familiar; you’ve probably seen him during live shows before. A gulp runs down your throat as you collect yourself.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, your eyes glance at his pecks. Bruh. “I came here to work out. What’s wrong with that?”

“Isn’t there another gym near you?”

“This is my gym. I go here regularly.”

Your brows furrow. “What? This is my gym! I never see you here.”

“That’s a you problem,” Sunghoon tilted his head coyly, earning a groan from you. Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m not here for you. Jake wanted to say hi.”

Sunghoon jutted a thumb at the man beside him. His face held a wide grin as he held out his hand. You clung onto his palm in a swift hand shake, a smile now plastered onto your face. Jake’s eye smile never went away as he introduced himself. 

“I’m Jake, one of Sunghoon’s teammates! So nice to finally meet you!”

With a grin, you reciprocate his kind words. The two of you fell into wholesome small talk, completely forgetting the nuisance beside you. You already liked this guy way more. You and Jake talked endlessly about your similar hobbies, your overlapping interests. You enjoyed it, talking to the personified bundle of joy. It made you wonder why he was friends with someone like Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon cleared his throat, the sudden boom startling both you and Jake. 

“Let’s head back, man. I wanna get started on my reps.”

Jake only glanced back before turning around to face you, waving his hand at Sunghoon. “Start without me. I’ll catch up later.”

Sunghoon grumbled, turning around before marching over to the dumbbells. Only after he turned around did you notice the shells of his ears burning bright pink. Weird. 

You and Jake continued but something was off. You couldn’t quite focus. As the two of you were about to enter the conversation topic of favourite foods, your stubborn eyes began to wander to the view of Park Sunghoon. You watched as he sat hunched over on a random bench, his hands clinging onto a dumbbell as he curled the equipment up to his chin, and back down slowly. You watched as his muscles tensed, his sweat beaded off of his face, drenching his hairline. He looked good; and you hated it. 

Sunghoon’s eyes darted towards you, scanning back and forth between you and Jake. His eyes burned a hole through his teammate’s chest. His tongue poked beneath his cheek before his eyes darted away. Watching him, you found your heart racing. Odd, considering you hadn’t been running for a while. Something was really wrong with you. 

You waited for Jake to leave before collecting your belongings and dashing off the treadmill. You made a b-line for Kiri, innocently working out. Kiri glances up, a confused and weary look on her face. “You good?”

“No.” You murmur, your heart racing even more. What was going on? “I wanna go home.”

“That’s a wrap for today!” The director’s voice echoed through the building, signalling the end of another successful shoot, but you could barely pay any mind. Not with your stomach grumbling like a lion dying of hunger. 

This should’ve been an easy fix. With the table of refreshments, reserved just for the staff and cast members just 4 paces away from you, it was easy for anyone to take a quick bit and become instantly satisfied. Yet,your case was awfully special. You were currently on a diet. 

It was a common occurrence for someone in the industry in order to look your best in time for a special event. With group activities fast approaching for you and your group, the practice of dieting was natural to expect. 

Suddenly, the crackles of an open wrapper stung through your ears. Your head snaps to the sound, your senses heightened by the possibility of food. You squinted to get a better look. An overly seasoned rice ball, burning auburn in colour, with a dark strip of crispy seaweed running down the middle. It was a sight for sore eyes; your mouth watered. The way the oil glistened under the setlights above, the way each rice grain fell between the perfect balance of crisp and chewy, it all made your cravings skyrocket. You were about to take a step towards the godlike piece of food before your eyes remembered to scan the rest of the figure; the owner of the seaweed-wrapped gold. 

You stopped.

It was Park Sunghoon. He was the one digging into the last riceball from the refreshments table. He was the one responsible for your suffering. 

Your mind replays images from the gym; your last unfortunate encounter with the man you hated. The way your eyes wandered to places you didn’t want to see, the way your heart raced at his presence. It all stung you. And yet, here he was, making his way over to you. You found yourself coddling your stomach.  

“What do you want?”

“You were the one staring at me, y/n.”

You gulp. You try to look away from the bothersome man, you really did. However, with Sunghoon bringing the rice ball closer and closer to your starving frame, facing away from him was even hard to manage. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two from his mouth watering snack. 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” You only gulp. Were you that obvious?

You stepped back from the idol. “I’m dieting. Everything makes me hungry.” You noticed your words wavering at the last half or your sentence. 

Slowly, you walked away. You were expecting that interaction to be over, anyway. There was no use talking to him if he wasn’t going to provide you with any sort of solace. And besides, this was Park Sunghoon. Since when did you give him the light of day?

“There’s a convenience store down the street,” You heard Sunghoon’s voice as he jogged over to your escaping frame. “Let’s go.”

The convenience store? With Park Sunghoon?

“Are you dumb? My manager will kill me!”

A sudden warmth ghosted around the curve of your wrist. Sunghoon’s fingers clung gently around your skin, dragging your frame closer to his. 

“We’ll be quick.”

Running. You and Park Sunghoon were running. Pushing past the equipment and staff members scattered across the filming set, all yelling at you to come back. With your hand in his, and an optimal view of Sunghoon’s back, the two of you dashed out of the filming set doors, escaping into the daylight. It was odd. It was as if the world surrounding you completely vanished, leaving the two of you secluded. Just for this maybe 5 minute run to the convenience store, the world was your and yours alone. 

“You’re paying?”

“Yeah. You need to eat.” 

Your brows furrowed. Since when did he care? 

Your shoulder was nudged, and a rice ball fell into your hand. Your eyes met Sunghoon’s, whose eyes were already on you. “Here.”

You clear your throat. Your voice was small; an attempt to hide your fluttering heart. “Thanks.”

You dash in front of him, not wanting to look at him more than you needed to. This was the end of it all, anyways. You got what you wanted, and you were now on your merry way. 

“Wait—” A tug on your wrist once again. Sunghoon pulled your frame close to his chest, away from the sliding doors behind you. 

“Let’s stay here. Our managers will both have our heads if they see where we are,” Sunghoon huffed a chuckle. 

“You only realised that now?”

“Just eat your rice ball” Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

Unwrapping the golden deity of rice and seaweed, you and Sunghoon step to the side, huddling together at the corner of the lottery ticket station. The silver light above you flickered, the buzzing of the electricity humming across the entire room. However, you couldn’t give your surroundings even a sliver of your attention. You were too busy dying of hunger to care. 

“Look at you two!” The honey-like voice of an elderly woman seeped through your ears, breaking your attention away from your feast. It was the cashier, taking 5 from her work. “What a cute couple you are!”

You choked on your rice. A couple? Was that what the two of you looked like? Sure, Sunghoon bought your food for you, and you did just come running into the store holding hands. You sort of understood the confusion. But hell, was this lady ever wrong. Never in a million years would Park Sunghoon come close to someone you’d want to be a couple with. You would never give the thought the light of day. Dating Park Sunghoon? Nice try. He would need a heart of his own before getting a chance at capturing yours. 

You shined a bogus smile. “Oh no—”

“Thank you!” Sunghoon’s voice collided with yours. You choke on your rice again, despite no rice being ingested to begin with. Maybe you were simply choking on the audacity Park Sunghoon had at this very moment. You step up, desperately in need of clearing up the miscommunication, but the lady was already occupied with her next customer. You huff a sigh, returning to the last bites of your blessed rice ball.  

As you shoved the remaining food into your jacket, you and Sunghoon slip out of the convenience store, a cloud rumbling over your head, and your cheeks erupting into flames. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Grumbling, you turn to him. 

“What was that!?” Your voice squeaked a little.

Sunghoon only shrugged, throwing his elbows in the air and his palms at the back of his head. “I couldn’t correct that sweet old lady! Plus, it’s not like we’re ever gonna see her again.”

The speed in which Sunghoon dismissed the situation agitated you to your core, but you couldn’t help but notice the shell of Sunghoon’s ear flashing red again.

Currently, you sat on the curb as you took 5 from an outdoor shoot. Knees tucked into your chest, and your lunch balancing on your kneecaps, you munched on your food peacefully. The sky that was suspended over your head painted a simple wash of blue. It carried a few splotches of white clouds, the same way your brain carried few thoughts in its head. For the first time in a while, your mind was at peace.

A certain warmth ghosted your side, snapping you out of your peaceful trance. It was Sunghoon, choosing to sit right next to you. Sunghoon waited a few paces before taking a bite of his lunch. Only then did he consider looking over at you. You, however, were already looking in his direction. Baffled.

“Relax. This was the only place I could sit.”

You grumbled under your breath.

You glance at Sunghoon’s lunch. A simple fruit salad; pieces of fruit cubed and tossed together in a plastic bowl. You watched as Sunghoon periodically pushed the mountain of mangoes further into the corner, minimising the chances of them mixing into the rest of his salad. Suddenly, memories from your trainee days flooded your brain. Memories of Sunghoon scooping the mangoes off of a fruit cake; of Sunghoon wincing the moment he tasted mangoes in his fruit cup; of Sunghoon always remembering to give you the pieces he never wanted because he knew you liked them.

Your chest twinged.

“You still don’t like mangoes?” Your words were uttered before you could think them through. You wince; only now realising that the usage of ‘still’ implies that you remembered the past. Fuck.

You watch the corner of Sunghoon’s lip twitch up before his head hangs down, as if he was trying to hide a smile. “You still remember that?”

You stayed silent. The answer was obvious, unfortunately. A lump jumped from your throat. “You’re still weird for that, by the way. Who the hell doesn’t like mangoes?”

“They're always bad. Too sour.”

“You’re just bad at picking them out.”

“Also they’re slimy. Gross.”

“They’re not—” You heave a sigh. “You’re so dumb.”

The two of you pause, your eyes holding onto each other as if a thread had hung in the balance. As if on queue, the two of you suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. You didn’t know exactly what came over you at that moment. It was as if your body had become possessed, manoeuvred by a puppet master. Yet somehow, sitting here, on this random curb, laughing with Park Sunghoon—it brought you a strange sense of comfort.

As the laughter dialled down, and the two you grew silent, Sunghoon still held onto your attention. Slowly, Sunghoon picked off the mango cubes from his bowl, reached over and plopped down onto yours. You only looked up at him, confused.

“They’re your favourite, right?” Sunghoon simply asked, a grin stretching across his face. Your stomach felt queasy. “You’re not the only one who remembers, you know.”

Why was your heart racing?

Today was the day. The day you dreaded the most.

“You’ve already survived this far, I really doubt today’s gonna be any different,” Kiri reasoned from her end of the company van. You hated how logical and indifferent she was, and how you were the complete opposite right now. 

You curled up in a ball on your car seat, your forehead resting on your knees. “Do you even know what scene we’re filming?” 

Kiri only huffed as the company van slowly pulled into the driveway. “Yes, y/n. You’ve only told me everyday for the past week.” You huffed. So much for having a friend who understood you. 

The van shifted into park, and Kiri released herself from the confines of her seat belt. With one last glance back at you, your teammate hops out of her car door, making her way to her individual schedule for the day. It took you every ounce of energy in your body to not reach over and grab her in a tight hug; steal her for yourself and your much needed moral support. 

“You’ll be okay, y/n. Trust me.” The car door slammed shut. 

Kiri definitely could not be trusted. Not when the particular scene you had scheduled was a kiss scene. With the one and only Park Sunghoon. You had every right to be just a little bit panicked. 

The director’s run down of today’s schedule seemed shorter than usual. Or maybe it wasn’t—maybe you were just desperate to stall the inevitable. Either way, you still found yourself sitting behind the snack table. It was the corner of the room; the farthest corner from the filming set. The set you’d soon occupy with the man of the hour.

Park Sunghoon was the man you hated. He was the man that broke your promise, leaving you to bask in your loneliness. He was the man that abandoned your friendship in favour of fame. You hated him for all of it. Kissing Park Sunghoon went against everything your entire being had to offer.  

And yet, you couldn’t get the thought of him out of your mind. 

You let your stubborn eyes wander as you stood in the middle of the scene. Now, you were in-between takes, and you simply stood there as a makeup artist touched up Sunghoon’s face. Slowly, your eyes approached him. In the next 5 minutes, you would’ve kissed him, and this will all be over. 

In 5 minutes. you would have kissed Park Sunghoon.

You’ll kiss Park Sunghoon.

“I’m yours, Choi Min Ah. No one else’s.” Sunghoon’s toasted breath wrapped your skin in a blanket of warmth. His voice was sweet; dipped in honey. Or, his character, Kwang Ill Han’s voice was. That’s who the voice belonged to—not Sunghoon. Recently, you’ve been having a difficult time differentiating the two. Sunghoon folded a hand over your cheek, slowly and gently linking his lips with yours. You crashed into the plush of his lips, your skin swiping at his. Your heart was racing again.

This was the kiss scene between Choi Min Ah and Kwang Ill Han. Not yours. So why was it affecting you? 

The director yells cut, and the last scene for the day finishes. The clamour of staff members and actors run around, preparing to leave. However, you simply stood there. Trapped in the middle of the filming platform. Trapped in your own thoughts. Thoughts that Park Sunghoon had selfishly plagued. 

You knew it was childish. You knew it was stupid. But it was what you needed to quell your erratic heart. 

So you ran.

Park Sunghoon was a selfish prick.

It was the thought that tainted Sunghoon’s mind as he watched you escape the film set earlier that afternoon, and it stayed plaguing his mind for the duration of that evening—even until he got home. He sunk into the plush of the couch, not bothering to pay any mind to the colossal mess his members left in the living room. Instead, Sunghoon simply gazed at the lamp above him, glowing a deep amber—letting his thoughts eat him alive. 

He let himself get carried away.

Sunghoon knew this would happen. He knew the risks that laced the opportunity of a reunion with you. He knew that, at just the slightest chance, Sunghoon would fall in love with you all over again. And, as far as his career was concerned; falling in love was forbidden. 

It all started years ago, a couple of years after the two of you joined the same entertainment company—though Sunghoon remembered it like it was yesterday. Sunghoon had just finished up his vocal lessons for the evening when the company CEO sat Sunghoon down in front of a laptop. It was littered with pictures that Sunghoon was a part of. However, all these shots had one thing in common; they were all pictures of you and him. Pictures of Sunghoon staring into your eyes lovingly as you decorated a cake for your group leader, of Sunghoon intimately adjusting your hair, clueless to the cameras filming you. Pictures of Sunghoon that expose his feelings for you.

In other words; a relationship rumour was bound to spread, if it hadn’t already, and Park Sunghoon was screwed.

The CEO goes on to tell Sunghoon the dangers that this holds. How a dating rumour during their trainee years had a greater chance of ruining their careers, their images. He scolded Sunghoon for being dumb and reckless. It was natural; you had a knack for making Sunghoon go crazy ever since he first met you in grade school. Park Sunghoon was smitten for you, and now he finally had to pay the price. 

The CEO, however, proposes a solution that would dial down the situation. Sunghoon would transfer to BELIFT LAB, a company in need of a male trainee for an upcoming debut of their new boy group. With Sunghoon now out of the way, there would be no room for rumours between the two trainees to spread. And with the sudden news of  Sunghoon signing with a new company ranking first in the spotlight, dedicated fans were bound to simply forget any rumours would even exist. 

Sunghoon didn’t know much when it came to this line of work. So, he agreed to the scheme. Anything to keep his career, and you, safe. 

The hardest part about it all was keeping it a secret from you. It was on company’s orders; you didn’t have a clue what was going on at the time, so it was best to just leave you in your blissful ignorance. The company ordered him to distance himself from you. To break away from the bond the two of you shared for years. It was no wonder you hated him; you had every right. And so, Park Sunghoon tried to shut down his feelings for you. Hiding his heart behind a fake persona that hated you the same way you hated him—thorns against his skin. Nevertheless, it was the only way to keep you somewhat in his life. 

Park Sunghoon knew it was bad news when he found out the two of you would reunite under the shackles of this web drama project. Park Sunghoon knew he couldn’t control himself around you; that you knew just how to drive his heart crazy. That was exactly why he was left here, alone in the living room, with the image of you running away from him replaying in his brain. 

His feelings for you have sparked once again. He wasn’t quite sure if they even left to begin with.  

But there was no way in hell your feelings would ever reciprocate. Not in a million years. It was clear the moment you ran away from him. 

A ping! jumps from Sunghoon’s phone, the light from the screen catching his attention. His thumb swipes at the notification; a message from his manager. It reveals a calendar with the upcoming weekend highlighted a bright green. The coloured boxes read only one sentence, but it was a sentence that would be burned in Sunghoon’s brain for a lifetime. 

FILMING AT JEJU - WEEKEND SHOOT + WRAP UP PARTY

A weekend away at Jeju island. With you. 

Sunghoon’s heart leaped from his chest.

Jeju island was a tourist spot most notably known for its beach resorts, pearl blue ocean water, and unique cuisine. For most, it’s considered a home away from home, a paradise to let your hair down, to destress from the chaos of life. 

For you, however, it’s a different story. 

“There must’ve been some mistake!” Your manager’s voice echoed through the hotel lobby. You still managed to hear her loud and clear despite sitting across the large room. “You mean there’s no room booked?”

The hotel staff only glared back at your manager, face deadpan. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t see your name on the list. We’re fully booked at the moment. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

With a huff escaping her lips, your manager treks back to your figure, her shoulders slumped to the ground. You didn’t even need to ask. Based on her defeated demeanour, and the fact that you overheard the whole conversation from where you sat, you understood; you had no place to stay. Here you were; in the paradise of Jeju Island, homeless for the weekend. Stress washed over you.

Your manager whips her phone out, swiping aggressively as she buried her face into the screen. “I’m so sorry, y/n, but we’re gonna have to find a motel tonight. I’ll look for the nearest one right now.” 

“That isn’t necessary, miss.”  A voice perks up behind you. A voice that needed no introduction as your frame froze in its place. Sunghoon sauntered away from his visibly worried manager, and towards your sunken figures, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “You two can stay with me and my manager.”  

You choked. What sick game was Sunghoon playing? 

Your manager politely waves her hands to refuse, but you quickly step in, hands crossed over your puffed chest as an act of defence. You barely even managed to keep steady eye contact. “We don’t want your help. A motel will do just fine.”

“No one should have to pay extra just for a motel,” Sunghoon reasons, not backing down. “We also booked the deluxe suite; there’s plenty of room for the four of us.” 

Your manager’s resolve quickly faded away the moment Sunghoon mentioned paying extra for a last minute room. Her eyes grew wary, shaky. The harsh reality of finances crashing down on her in an instant. She wasn’t going to give in so easily, was she? 

She was.

She looked at you with doe-like eyes. “We should accept their offer, y/n. It’s only for the weekend.”

Before you knew it, you and your bags were being taken up to the top floor of the hotel. Into the deluxe suite that belonged to the one and only Park Sunghoon.

A defeated sigh. It was the only reaction your body could muster amidst the sheer buffoonery of your current situation. Being forced to room with the man that drove you crazy; how's that for comedy?

You shot up from the edge of the bed, the thought of your depressing situation suddenly parching your throat. You pivot towards the kitchen, attempting to pay no mind to the series of zips and rummaging of luggage currently happening in the living room. You didn’t want to give Sunghoon the light of day, even if he was just innocently unpacking his suitcase. 

Crisp ice water slides down your throat as your eyes wander. Stubbornly. Eventually landing on the man you swore you would ignore. 

His eyes were on you, too.  

You quickly dart away, your heart beating rapidly.

Sunghoon roughly clears his throat, the sound echoing around the walls of the living room. You glance back, watching him cling unto the nape of his neck with one hand, while the other loosely tosses a card onto the armrest of the couch. Almost immediately after, Sunghoon turned away from you. “Here’s the second keycard—your manager forgot to pick it up before she left.” 

You only nodded, shuffling over to retrieve it. Of course he didn’t consider throwing it somewhere actually close to you.

The closer you got to the furniture, the more Sunghoon’s belongings appeared before you. His sweaters and shirts were folded in a neat and compact manner and sitting at the corner of the couch, his towel draped over the backrest. Miscellaneous items were littered across the surface of the couch, items you didn’t pay much attention to. Except for one.

A polaroid stuck out of Sunghoon’s wallet. You checked to see if Sunghoon was watching before snatching it away. It was an image of a younger Sunghoon standing in the middle, holding up a cake as frosting was smudged on his nose and cheek. A wide grin was plastered on his face as other trainees surrounded him. You were in the picture, too, right by his side as you held onto one side of the cake. A finger covered in frosting suggests that you were the culprit of his smudged face. He didn’t seem to care, considering Sunghoon’s cheeky grin was directed at you. Devil horns were drawn on Sunghoon’s head, and a messy heart was traced around your face. 

A date was etched into the bottom of the polaroid. 12/08/2018. Sunghoon’s birthday; the last birthday he had before leaving the company. Your eyes widen, heart racing.

Why would he keep something like this?

“You still have this?” Your voice trembled. Sunghoon’s head whips back to find you holding the polaroid, his eyes widened in surprise. He treks over to you, swatting the picture away from your hands. “What are you doing!?”

You fidget with your fingers, eyes gazing on the carpet. How long has he had that picture? What did that mean? You look up at Sunghoon once again, slow steps bringing you closer to his frame. 

“Why do you still have this?”

“I just do.” Sunghoon’s eyes held yours hostage. He didn’t say much, yet the weight of his stare was enough to move worlds.

His eyes quickly diverted from your gaze as he continued to unpack. You nipped at your lip; Sunghoon’s answer wasn’t enough. Questions spiralled in your head. Your world was unravelling before you. You retired back to your room, your back keeping the door shut. Your face was flushed, your chest heaved. 

What was Park Sunghoon doing to you? 

“We’ll have you two start from the couch and then move onto the bed. We’ll end the scene when Sunghoon takes his shirt off.” Your director instructs, his hands blocking the scene directions on your last official filming session. 

Normally, you would’ve been elated at that fact. However, if this trip has proven anything to you, it's that the universe wants you to suffer. And so, this exciting final scene you were currently stuck filming was none other than a steamy makeout session between the two main characters at a romantic getaway. 

Fear shot down your spine, your brain hot-wiring at that very moment. You were already overwhelmed with the revelation that Sunghoon’s polaroid from last night brought you. By then, your heart was already leaping from your chest. The last thing you needed was to lock lips with the man responsible for your malfunctioning brain. 

Nevertheless, you hiked towards the couch like a mindless drone. You’ve given up on fighting for what you want. Sitting on the couch, you suddenly grew overwhelmingly conscious of your clothes—or lack thereof. You dawned a tank top etched in lace trim, shorts of the same pattern, and a satin robe to cover your arms. You knew that this outfit was necessary for the scene, but that didn’t stop fear from shooting down your spine.

Sunghoon soon joins you on the couch, dawning a simple white button down, with a few buttons undone—exposing his bare chest. Instinctively, you hug your chest, shielding your skin with the satin fabric of your robe. You caught a glance of his collarbones, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. Heat creeped against your cheeks. 

Sunghoon averted his gaze from you, yet you still felt as though all attention was within your grasp. His hand rested on his knee, fingers fidgeting the wrinkles of his trousers. 

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable, alright? I’ll stop—even if the scene isn’t finished.”

There he was, reassuring you like the caring asshole he is. Your heart leaped.

“Okay.”

It didn’t take long before your lips were snug against his, his weight overpowering yours as he moved to lay on top of you. Sunghoon’s hand snaked against your jaw, gently creeping further to the back of your head to provide you a makeshift headrest. Your hands reached up around his neck and his shirt collar, pulling his frame closer against your exposed chest. Sunghoon’s skin was warm. His other hand grips your waist, a finger poking beneath your shield of fabric. His touch was soft.

Your heart was pounding so hard, it pulsated through your ears.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself. 

Your breaths grew hazy as Sunghoon lifted your frame into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his hips instantly—clockwork. In just a few steps, Sunghoon’s knees reached the edge of the bed. He laid you back down gently, your frame sinking into the plush of the bed. Your arms refused to let go, holding him closer for more kisses. Your stomach flipped in on itself. Sunghoon gently pulled himself away, standing up straight. You watched as his hands trailed up to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Within seconds, Sunghoon slipped the white fabric off of his broad shoulders, tossing it aside before bending back down to meet your lips once more. Your fingertips grazed against his skin tracing his shoulder blades. His skin grew warmer against your touch, as if you were lighting him on fire.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself once more.

“CUT!” Your director’s voice pierced through your ears, pulling you back to reality. Sunghoon immediately jumps off of you, trekking off to retrieve his shirt back. His back was turned towards you, but a quick glance could confirm his cheeks were currently flaring red. You, however, couldn’t say much on the matter—you were in even more of a mess than he was. 

The two of you linked eyes for a split second, tension fogging up the air around you. All while your heart was still pounding so loud your ears could hear. 

Distracted. Park Sunghoon was distracted. And it was all thanks to you. 

The spice of liquor scratched against his throat, the ice cubes kissing his lips. He huffed a sigh, running a hand through his hair for the umteenth time that evening of the wrap up party. He didn’t even bother listening to the boring speech his director was giving, or anyone else who was talking that night—it all washed away, like grains of sand parallel to a body of water. 

Sunghoon couldn’t figure out what exactly was causing this feeling. Maybe it was the fact that he so foolishly let you stay over in his hotel room. Now, he was stuck sleeping just a few paces away from the woman he loved but couldn’t have. Torture. He gulped down another sour sip. Or maybe it was the way you kissed him that afternoon. Even if it was just for a simple scene, the way you melted into his lips made Sunghoon wish everything was real. Maybe he was drunk on your kisses, and a little bit of booze, too. 

His eyes wandered, only to be led straight to you. With a glass of wine in your hand, you stood in a small huddle consisting of your manager and a few other faces Sunghoon couldn’t recognize. 

Maybe it was the way you glistened without the need for any light. You lit the dim banquet hall up with your smile. The smile Sunghoon missed so dearly.

Another gulp.

Or maybe it was the way you wouldn’t even spare Sunghoon a glance since the wrap up party. The way he had let himself get carried away trying to get close to you, and ultimately driving you further away. Maybe Sunghoon just needed to finally accept everything. 

A distraction. You needed a distraction. From Park Sunghoon, specifically.

Park Sunghoon had unwantedly staked his claim on your brain for longer than you wanted. The man you knew to be selfish and cruel, willing to break your friendship in the blink of an eye, was turning your world upside down. He was caring for you, ensuring your comfort, putting you first. It all confused you, set your brain into overdrive. 

And that polaroid. The picture the size of your palm, capable of burning everything you knew into flames of the unknown. It left you with endless questions; though one stood out like a sore thumb. 

Did Sunghoon miss you?

That was an absurd thought. 

Nevertheless, it was a thought that nipped and itched at your brain for the rest of the evening, and you needed a way out. Your first course of action was to hide. Sitting at a table that was oceans away from where Sunghoon and his manager sat during your director’s long and drawn out speech. Shoving and squeezing yourself into groups of people you barely knew; you basically trailed your manager around like a lost puppy. 

When you weren’t wandering around aimlessly, however, you were tucked away in the washrooms, calling Kiri as you sat hunched over on a closed toilet seat, whisper-shouting as you explained the escalated situation.  

“Just ask him, y/n.” Kiri huffed over the phone. “It’ll give you peace of mind.”

“I can’t just approach him!”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I just can’t think straight around him! He’s constantly on my mind and he drives me crazy! I think my blood pressure spikes the moment I’m near him—”

“y/n?” Kiri interrupts. You gulp. “Yeah?”

“Do you like Sunghoon?”

You choked, turning a few heads of guests washing their hands at the bathroom sink. Was Kiri being serious? You didn’t like Sunghoon. He drove you clinically insane, he was so unpredictable it made you want to rip your own hair out. Whenever you were around him, your heart stubbornly danced beneath your chest, your mind went haywire.

Oh god. 

You liked Park Sunghoon.

“I-I have to go.” You hung up at the speed of light. 

You didn’t need a distraction. You needed answers. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you scanned the venue. Your eyes landed on a glass of wine resting in someone’s hand. Your eyes then pivot to the open bar, empty and barren. A lightbulb springs from your head. 

The last thing Sunghoon expected to see tonight was you, piss drunk and toppled over on the counter of the open bar. 

Your face was hidden in the nest of your forearms, your hair was messy and spread out. Sunghoon was positive a strand or two had fallen into your mouth. Peaking through the bush of your hair, Sunghoon gazed at your droopy eyes, eyelids practically sealed shut by fatigue. Empty glasses outlined your figure, but you couldn’t bother to pay it any mind. The outside world didn’t matter when you were this drunk. 

That was the problem. You couldn’t care less about your surroundings; it was dangerous. 

Sunghoon nipped at his lips, his eyes holding onto your frame like his life depended on it. He knew leaving you alone and unattended was irresponsible, that it would place your life in grave danger. You were smack dab in the middle of a social event, strangers littered all around you. Anything could happen at any moment. 

Nevertheless, Sunghoon also knew your current resolve when it came to him. He knew you hated him, you couldn’t stand being near him. A hand ran through his hair. Would he even be of any help?

Sunghoon sighed, drilling his hands through his pockets. Someone else could probably help you just fine. You probably didn’t need him. 

In 3 seconds he changed his mind.

A fire burned in his chest, his jaw tensing as he saw your passed out frame. Sunghoon marched over to your seat, his blazer slipping off of his shoulders and into his hands. Sunghoon soon spread the blazer over your shoulders, which were exposed and laced with goosebumps from the air-conditioned room. He caught the attention of people passing by when he pulled your frame up by your shoulders, gently resting your head against his chest as he swung down to pick up your legs. He swung your frame away from the open bar and out of the banquet hall. 

He trudged towards the hotel elevators, your figure slumped in his arms. He couldn’t help but glance at your sleeping frame. 

Even now, you looked beautiful as ever. 

Opening your eyes, you were greeted with two things; the hotel room’s ceiling, and Park Sunghoon’s blazer enveloping your torso. 

Your stomach was flipping in on itself, your heart racing. It actually worked. Your suspicions were right. Park Sunghoon actually brought you to your hotel room—your and his room, anyway. 

To say that you didn’t feel just a little bit guilty would be a big understatement. Pretending you were drunk out of your mind at an open bar, hoping the man you just found out you had feelings for would see you and take you to his room just to test whether or not he cared for you—maybe it wasn’t the best idea. You, however, were desperate. You needed to know where Sunghoon’s heart stood.

As you rose up into a sitting position, A figure shuffled into the room. A figure that needed no introduction.

“You’re not really drunk, are you?” Sunghoon accused, a hand dropping a glass of water gently onto the desk left of his hips. You only gulp, murmuring your response. 

“M-maybe.”

Exasperated, Sunghoon heaves a deep sigh. His head is thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You watched as he shuffled over to you, his figure plopping onto the edge of your bed. 

“Don’t scare me like that!”

Sunghoon’s eyes held you hostage, boring into you. As if he was reaching into your soul and claiming it as his own. You, however, stood still, in a trance. Unable to move under his presence. A blanket of silence fell on top of you—it was so silent you could hear your heartbeat pulsating in your ears. Quickly, you snap out of your trance, eyes severing the contact as you scurried away from his frame. 

“Then don’t get so scared.” you spat defensively.

Sunghoon clung onto the nape of his neck. “How could I not? It’s dangerous—”

“Just—stop it already!” you snapped, interrupting him as your palms pushed into the mattress. “Stop getting scared for me, caring for me—stop that!”

Sunghoon's eyes gaze down at his feet before trailing up to meet yours. As you continue, your eyes couldn’t help but follow suit, hanging onto his gaze like your life depended on it. You shoot up from your spot on the bed, your heart stuck in your windpipe as you towered over him.

“You’re supposed to hate me! Call me names, make fun of me. Instead, you’re this caring, sweet guy that I can’t stop thinking about! I mean, we’re supposed to be enemies. You know, when you left the agency that day; when you left me that day, I swore I would hate you with all my heart. How the hell are you gonna be my enemy when my heart races at the thought of you? If you’re all that's on my mind?”

You gulp. “How the hell am I supposed to hate you when I like you so much?” 

“You like me?”

A hand slapped over your mouth. Sunghoon’s eyes widened as he gazed up at you. His jaw practically grazed the floor. He blinked a few times as your heartbeat pounded again in your ears. 

“Leaving the agency was never my choice.” Sunghoon’s voice was hushed.

What?

Slowly you sat down. Sunghoon watched you, his eyes holding yours hostage the entire time you sunk down onto your side of the bed. 

“I know that this sounds like some sick excuse, but I never wanted to leave. The CEO saw how close we were during our days as trainees, and thought that it would threaten our careers if we ever had any rumours spread about us.” A hand brushed over Sunghoon’s hair. “So, he asked me to leave. The CEO had no plans on telling you about any of this, so I had to keep it from you, too.”

Suddenly, Sunghoon slid off of the bed, kneeling before your figure. He gazed up at you once more. “I’m sorry—for everything.”

Your heart was racing. Sunghoon continued. “I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you, for leaving you that day. None of that would’ve happened if I was careful, if my heart wasn’t so stubborn.”

“What are you saying?” Your voice trembled. 

Sunghoon heaved a deep sigh. “I liked you, y/n. I liked you so much that I could barely keep it in, barely keep composure. I tried my hardest to get over you, but it was no use.”

Sunghoon’s eyes glistened under the amber hotel lights. “I knew my feelings for you only grew.”

A thread hung in the balance as the two of you continued to stare into each other’s eyes—a thread you wouldn’t dare sever, never in this lifetime. You watched as they sparkled; held the stars beneath their surface. You watched as they stared lovingly at you, yet hungry for you all at the same time. You also watched as your own hands grew minds of their own, reaching out to Sunghoon’s cheek before stopping mid-air. “Sunghoon?”

“Hm?”

“I think I need to kiss you.”

As he pressed your trembling hands up against his soft cheek, Sunghoon’s lips folded up into a grin, his voice melting like honey. “I’m all yours.”

Park Sunghoon tasted sweet against your lips— Sweet floral scents, most likely his cologne, puffed out from his frame as you held him close. You snaked an arm around his neck, fingers clinging around the nape. His palms hooked onto your waist, fingertips digging into your skin. As if you were minutes away from leaving his touch; he wasn’t about to let that happen again. Your grip on him grew tighter, too. You didn’t want him slipping from your fingertips either. Never again. 

A part of you felt warm and fuzzy; this kiss was real. 

With his weight overtaking you, Sunghoon leans further into the kiss, his lips pushing deep into yours. Your shoulders press deep into the plush of the mattress as his figure shells over you, shielding you from the outside world. Fireworks pop against your skin. Your stomach flips in on itself each time Sunghoon nibbles at your bottom lip; teasing you. Your hands roam around his back, tracing each bump and crevice of his body, relishing in his touch. His palm cradled your head, lacing between your hair strands. It was as if you were floating on a cloud. 

With one swipe of his tongue at your lips, Sunghoon deepened your kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His movements grow rash, fierce. As if he’d been starving for centuries; and you were his next meal. His hand glides up and down your waist, your skin tight dress doing nothing to conceal the friction. Heat bundles up between your legs.

You wanted more.

A moan slips from your lips, entrapped in your kiss. That, however, didn’t stop Sunghoon from hearing you loud and clear; from igniting a flame within his chest. With you, his mind was a ticking bomb. Gently, Sunghoon pushes away from the kiss, his breath hazing against your lips. His eyes flickered open, immediately gazing down at you. 

“How far are we going, tonight?” Sunghoon huffed. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

Your fingers traced his muscles. They were tense and flexed; he was clearly restraining himself. Stopping himself from indulging in you like some beast. You gazed up at him. The way his collar bones peaked through his neckline, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink; as if he was drunk on your presence. The way his hair hung over his starry eyes. 

You’ve never felt more certain of something in your life.

Your hand cradled Sunghoon’s cheeks. “I want you, Hoonie. All of you.

At the sound of your nickname, Sunghoon’s eyes grew hungry, dark as he harshly pressed into your lips. His tongue slid up against yours. They tangle, intertwine; eliciting another mewl from your lips. Sunghoon was certain his brain short circuited at your voice. Slyly, Sunghoon pressed his knee against your inner thigh, outlining its frame before slowly inching closer to your centre. The pressure sent shivers down your spine, your back instinctively arching forwards. Like you were aching to be closer, to hold him tighter. 

Sunghoon’s knee pressed further into your clothed core; one that was practically soaked. He moved the knee up and down, left to right; your brows furrowed in euphoria. A full, booming moan echoed, earning a needy grunt from the man who drove you insane. 

“That sound is driving me crazy, baby.” Sunghoon gritted through his teeth. “Moan more for me, yeah?” 

You didn’t even need to try. 

Slowly, Sunghoon peppered kisses down your jaw, sucking against your searing skin. With a hand at the small of your back, Sunghoon lifts you up from the bed, his hand trailing up and fiddling with the zipper of your dress. He pulls the zipper down, and you’ve never been more grateful for built-in bra pads. His lips, however, never once breached contact, his lips gently migrating down to your collar bones, your chest, and eventually the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched as you felt his warmth circulate your nipples. Sunghoon takes a breast into his lips, his tongue swirling and flicking against your stiffened. You whimper at the contact, your core pooling in lust.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

After blindly searching for his hand, you tug on his wrist, positioning it between his thighs. Sunghoon smirked against your skin, the vibrations of his chuckle shuddering through your body—he heard you, loud and clear. After pulling down the rest of your dress, Sunghoon feathers his touch against your inner thighs, teasing you. You throw your head back, swimming in ecstasy. 

Softly, too soft, he drew circles around your clothed pussy. He grazed against your clit, driving you crazy. For a split second, Sunghoon parted his lips from your skin, moving up to meet your ear. “Where do you want my fingers, darling?”

You whimper, trying to find the words as Sunghoon toyed with your folds beneath the fabric. “In—fuck—inside. Please.” 

In an instant, Sunghoon pushed aside the measly fabric, finding your core dripping in heat; dripping for him. A digit slides into your folds, exploring your walls. He pumps his finger slowly, in and out as your back arches in desire. Your body spazzed and jolted. His knuckles grazed against your walls as he pumped faster and faster. Sunghoon slyly pushes in another finger, and then another, stretching your pussy around the width. You felt every inch of him, every section of his skin. As his pumps grow faster, harsher, Sunghoon’s fingers curl inwards, hitting your spot. 

You couldn’t keep in your noises, your lew moan bouncing against the walls, the same way your hips bounced against his fingers. In a weak effort to quiet down, you bite your finger. Sunghoon, however, quickly notices, gripping your hand by the wrist. “Don’t—I wanna hear you, princess.” 

You only whimper a response, your legs growing further apart with each pump of his fingers. A knot begins to crumple together at the pit of your stomach, your moans growing louder and louder. You found yourself shouting Sunghoon’s name without realising it, gripping into his skin. Sunghoon dips his hips against your bare core, pressing his digits further into you. You felt a tenting sensation against your core. 

The knot grew tighter and tighter as Sunghoon’s pumps grew hasty and messy. Wet sloshes echo in the room, though they were overpowered by your lust-ridden mewls. Sunghoon grinds into you, the metal of his belt buckle shocking your core frozen. 

“Cum on me, princess.” Sunghoon demands.

On cue, the knot finally pops open, and juices drip out of your pussy as you scream out his name. It coated your walls, his fingers, even the bed beneath you. Sunghoon made sure you watched as he took his dirty fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweet juices dry. 

“How much more can you handle, baby?” Sunghoon askes between huffs. You glance down, the zipper of his pant’s barely holding in the tent beneath his pants. You only nod, lust hazing over your eyes. Sunghoon smiles, kissing your temple. “Good. We’re not even close to done, princess.”

In a few swift moments, Sunghoon unbuckled his pants. You watched as the fabric dropped down to his knees, his length revealing itself. Your eyes gawked at the sight, earning only a chuckle from Sunghoon as he brought your wrist up to his lips.

“Only you make me like this, y/n.” He kissed your skin. 

An ache clouded your pussy. Suddenly, you felt empty, needy. You needed him. You mewl, gaining his attention in an instant. “I need your cock, Hoon.”

Rolling a condom around his dick, Sunghoon positions his tip at your entrance. You send a signal before Sunghoon presses into you. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the heavens at the contact. His cock filled you up, grazing and sliding against your walls. Your skin slaps against each other with each slow thrust, the dirty noises filling up the room. Sunghoon throws your legs over his shoulders, giving him more access to your wet, needy pussy. Your hands gripped the sheets; anything to stay tethered to reality. 

Sunghoon’s thrusts grow messy and rough. That familiar knot bundles up beneath your stomach as an idea pops into your mind. 

“Can I go on top?” You huff breathlessly. Sunghoon gulps, covering his embarrassed face with the back of his palm. “Y-yeah. Please.”

You and Sunghoon clamour around to switch positions, reaching for random kisses back and forth. Your back faced him, your ass grinding against his abs, your shoulder blades rubbing against his chest. Slowly, you sink onto his dick, your folds enveloping his throbbing length. Sunghoon grunts closely behind you, concealing his sounds with kisses against your neck. His hands roam around you; digging into your hips, fondling your breasts. Though, it was the mischievous massaging of your clit that sent your brain to short circuit. You bounced on his cock faster, your and his moans intertwining in the night air. 

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of this, princess,” Sunghoon strained. “Of you bouncing on my cock—shit—just like that.”

His words send butterflies through your stomach. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as the two of you scream each other’s name. You weren’t far from your second climax of the night. One more bounce against his dick sent your juices overflowing. Sunghoon’s pools up at the tip of his condom. Slowly, you pull away from his length, plopping down beside him on the bed, huffing from exhaustion. Sunghoon lays down with you, cradling his frame in your arms. 

“That was amazing.” You hum into his skin. Sunghoon traces small shapes along your bare back. “You were amazing, baby.”

Suddenly, the jingle of keys sound from across the hotel room. 

Your managers. They were back from the party.

Uh oh.

“You realise how dangerous this is, right?” Your CEO pinches his nose bridge, leaning back into his office chair. “The press won’t react lightly to this.”

You and Sunghoon glanced at each other, shoulders pressed against one another as you stood before your CEO. Sweat beaded from your forehead. Though, you had every right to be nervous; you were currently asking for permission to go public with Park Sunghoon. The man you loved most. 

“Yes—” 

“Let me finish,” Your CEO raised his hand. “But, seeing as though you both are highly regarded and successful artists, and no longer trainees—I’ll allow it.”

The two of you lit up, immediately gazing at each other with smiles. You cling onto one another in a sweet embrace. As he only half-payed attention to your CEO’s orders of letting his company know, Sunghoon peppers kisses on your cheek. 

Sunghoon pushes your hair behind your ear, smiling. “You’re finally mine, baby.”

[yujo-nishimura]

All the rage

A fauxpax at your job leads to some intimate time with your boss Sir Crocodile and even a promotion...

Warning: gore, blood, violence, smut, Sir Crocodile x female reader (It is not as gory as I intended it to write because I also do not want my readers to be disgusted)

NSFW - minors do not interact

words: 1932

I am tagging @lostfirefly since she has explicitly asked for it and she will understand the background of the story.. ;)

What began as a promising career path quickly transformed into a daily grind filled with frustration. Your boss had placed you on the front lines of sales, fully aware that it was your charm and physical appearance that kept customers engaged, rather than the actual product you were selling. Initially, the attention may have been enjoyable, but it rapidly developed into an arduous routine of forcing a smile and feigning interest in even the most absurd customer requests.

In addition to your job-related frustrations, you hated the commute, enduring endless waits for public transportation alongside the empty expressions of fellow passengers. To make things even more difficult, you had developed romantic feelings for your boss, Mr. Crocodile, who failed to provide the attention you yearned for. Nevertheless, he remained the sole reason you clung to the job, at least for a little while longer. 

After enduring yet another exhausting and sweltering morning commute, coupled with three customer calls riddled with complaints, it's no wonder that you finally reached your breaking point.

The client you were scheduled to meet today had already displayed unpleasant behavior over the phone. However, you tried to stay optimistic, believing that people tend to be kinder in person compared to phone or email interactions. As the clock struck 10, the client was still nowhere to be seen, and impatience crept in, knowing your aversion to tardiness. Eventually, he arrived at 10:30, nearly an hour late. Upon entering your office, he offered no apology, opting instead for a shy smile. With his greasy blonde hair, ill-fitting suit, and repulsive demeanor, you took a deep breath and, attempting to maintain your professionalism, offered him a seat and asked if he wanted tea or coffee. To your annoyance, he requested soda water, the one thing you hadn't offered. You reluctantly went to the small fridge in search of anything to satisfy his stupid request.

Upon your return, he sported a sly grin and made inappropriate comments about your appearance as you turned around to face him. For a moment, you contemplated ending the conversation then and there. Not only because of the harassment, but also because he had already exhibited a series of missteps from the start, leading you to believe it would only worsen. However, you reminded yourself that this client had promised substantial purchases, resulting in a significant deal that would not only make you proud but also capture your boss's attention.

As you settled down before the client, you ensured your suit jacket and skirt were impeccably aligned, carefully placing product flyers on the glass coffee table. "So, as we discussed on the phone, this is what we can offer, and we're willing to negotiate a generous discount for bulk purchases," you initiated your customary sales pitch, fully aware that the man was likely not paying attention at all.

"I wasn't aware that they allowed women to work at Cross Guild Corp. as well," he suddenly remarked. 

"Pardon me?" you replied, looking up at him, meeting his watery blue eyes and sly grin once again. 

"I believe men excel in sales and business, but I can see why they placed you on the front line. You're a cute little Missy with a nice little butt. Are they sharing you around here?" 

"Sir...!" you sighed deeply, mustering all your strength to restrain yourself from snapping at him. "At Cross Guild Corp., our team strives to create an inclusive environment that does not discriminate based on gender or sexuality..." you trailed off, realizing that you sounded like a spokesperson for your company's marketing campaign. 

"I actually came here just to find out about your sexuality, girl, since you sounded so nice on the phone!" To your horror, the client stood up, walked around the table, and sat down next to you on the large leather couch. His sly grin remained etched on his face, and you understood that he had no intention of making any purchases. As he forcefully grabbed your hand and pushed it between his legs, you gasped. Your phone lay on the table, and the imposing wooden doors prevented any sound from escaping to alert your colleagues of your distress. Your eyes fell on the letter opener on the table, next to the flyers and paperwork from the morning. 

“I will give you a good tip, so show me - how is your head…!”, he murmured and the grip on your hand got tighter. That was your breaking point. In a split-second decision, you instinctively reached for the letter opener resting on your desk. Its design was reminiscent of the sword once wielded by your chief manager Mihawk, a renowned sword master.

With a swift motion and without any regret you stabbed the small iron blade into the neck of your attacker, making his eyes go wide in disbelief over the blood fountain suddenly gushing out from under his ear. He gargled, trying to cover the wound and hissed “You fucking bitch!” but you had already stood up, trying to get away from the fountain of blood spilling over the leather couch and your black suit and sheer tights.

The guy had finally stopped smiling and you felt a sense of relief. Still heavily breathing you went to your desk trying to grab anything to hold on to. You were still in shock but you also felt like this was the only thing you needed to do today. Your work was done here, time to punch out and go home.

As the client gasped for his final breaths on the couch, a sudden knock at the door startled you. Without hesitation, your boss, Sir Crocodile, made his entrance into the office, dressed impeccably in a sleek black suit, his presence accentuated by the cigar he held. 

"Y/n, I was just coming in to discuss the sales numbers from last month and review our plans for Q3..." he began, but his words trailed off abruptly as his gaze fell upon your pale face, the crimson stains on your hands, and the somber scene that unfolded on the couch before him. 

"Oh..." he remarked, his reaction to a dying person being the one you least expected from all possible responses.

“I…!”, that was all you were able to say, looking in horror at your own hands and the blood stains on the carpet. 

"Did the sales proposal go wrong?" your boss inquired, carefully placing the documents on a nearby shelf to avoid any stains. 

"He... he tried to assault me," you stammered, your voice trembling as you spoke. 

Crocodile approached the lifeless figure and casually lifted his arm before letting it drop back onto the couch with a nonchalant "flop." 

"What a tasteless suit brand. He reeks of cheap whiskey as well... I think you handled the situation very well, dear Y/n!" 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing as your boss praised you. 

"Are you alright, though? It must have been quite a shock for you..." 

With just two swift strides, your boss stood before you, his towering presence simultaneously intimidating and comforting. He gently took hold of your blood-stained hands, inspecting them as though he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure. 

"I'm... I'm fine, I suppose," you whispered, relieved to be able to utter any words at all. 

"How about you take the rest of the day off, my dear?" Crocodile suddenly suggested, causing your heart to race. Did your beloved boss just refer to you as "my dear"?

“I am fine, Sir..!”, you tried to utter and you looked into his dark purple eyes. A rush of adrenaline had run through your body, heightened now by the sensation of Crocodile's warm skin on yours.

He gently raised your hands to his mouth and you gasped in disbelief as he carefully opened his lips, licking over the blood on your fingers.

The tension in the office got unbearable and you suddenly realized that the death of the client and you having killed him had turned Sir Crocodile on. He didn't even ask for your approval, he did not need to hear it, seeing the same fire in your eyes as mirrored in his own was enough proof for him. Without hesitation he quickly grabbed your hips, pushing you up on your wooden office desk, starting to greedily kiss you. His lips tasted like cigar smoke and blood and it made your mind go blank.

Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist and put your arms around his shoulders. You were only kissing but you already felt like moaning into his mouth, your arousal palpable. Crocodile did not wait any longer. While still kissing you, he unbuckled his belt, pulling down both his trousers and underwear. His throbbing cock was so huge, pressing against your clothed folds, for a moment you were not sure if you could take it all. He did not give you a choice. Ripping your tights apart, he pulled down your panties and pushed your skirt up. Your bare ass was seated now on documents from the morning briefing and before your boss embraced you, he quickly checked with his fingers if you were ready for him. The slick sound made him smile, he kissed your neck and gently whispered: 

“Killing that guy turned you on, didn't it?”

Without waiting for your reply he pushed into you, his full length filling you in an instant. Surprisingly you were ready to take him - there was no pain, only pleasure. As he started to move relentlessly into you, your thighs and your butt started slapping against the wood of the desk. You moaned into his shoulder, feeling his big cock filling you to the brim. As you held onto him you were able to peek over his shoulder, seeing the lifeless body of the client still slightly bleeding, but much less than earlier, leaving a big crimson puddle on the floor. 

Crocodile gently but vigorously pulled your hair forcing you to look at him. 

“Focus on me, baby. I want you to enjoy every moment of this…!” his deep voice was laced with desire, you could feel his cock pulsating against your velvet folds. 

His demand made you feel getting close to your own orgasm, he pressed his hand on your mouth, trying to stifle your moans and holding on to you while his motions grew more forceful and vigorous. 

“Almost there..!”, he leaned over and whispered these words into your ear.

“I underestimated you, I knew you were beautiful and charming.. but I did not think you had the guts to kill someone…!”, his voice turned husky from the fast-paced breaths.

You pushed your nails into his skin and threw your head back as the orgasm washed over you like a wave. Seeing you squirting all over his cock made him go wild, with some last stuttering movements he pushed his cum inside of you, gently collapsing with his massive body on your suit jacket. You both were panting, the room was hot and sticky, the scent of blood and wrongdoing hung in the air.

He slowly stood upright, handing you your underwear and pulling up his trousers, adjusting his tie in a swift movement. 

Still overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment you silently grabbed your panties, pushing them into your jacket pocket instead of putting them back on. 

"Well, I've been in need of a personal assistant for quite some time now," Crocodile cleared his throat, smoothing back his slicked hair with a swift gesture. "How about we tidy up this mess together and then discuss your well-deserved promotion?"

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist !

Bellamy Blake - Drop ship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You're an Azgeda assassin sent to kill Bellamy after the mass genocides to Trikru. Azgeda assassins are supposed to be stone-cold, and feel nothing, but what happens when a certain boy tries to gain your trust ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, nsfw, oral, a little violence

Day two

Sitting atop my horse, Swan, I was studying the boy beyond the trees. He knew I was here, he was also studying me as well. He goes by the name 'Bellamy Blake', an oddly long name, but a name you don't see every day.

I was here to kill him.

To deliver his head to my buyers, Titus, the fleimkepa, and King Roan.

I had been following this Bellamy for two days, he's known I was following him for a few hours, and my horse had given it away.

I like to study my targets, see what they are like, study their mannerisms, and how they survive. It isn't standard, most assassins would've had it done within the hour. I've had the chance to kill him plenty of times. He is always so vulnerable to attacks, or maybe he knows that and is testing me.

Bellamy carries himself well for the most part, he's a good shot but very loud, as most Skaikru are. It was fairly easy to track him. The first day I was sent he was at their initial landing spot, what they call a 'dropship'. I wasn't sure why he wasn't behind the walls of Arkadia, could they have banished him?

My thoughts were cut short when I realized I had lost sight of him, I couldn't believe I got so caught up in my own thoughts to realize he was gone.

I hitched Swan and treaded lightly to his last position by the river.

Under a rock was a note and a piece of fish, the note would've been nice if I could read it.

The ignorance of Skaikru.

It wasn't that I couldn't speak English, in fact, I was fluent, as all warriors and assassins are. Only the warriors are taught English along with Trigdasleng, it was so we could understand the Mountain Men, well when they were a threat.

Thank you, Clarke.

I had tossed the piece of fish back into the river as I didn't trust Bellamy, I mean I was here to kill him after all.

Looking into the dirt I saw a heavy set of footprints, foolish boy. They were leading back to the dropship, were he was spending most of his days. His schedule was very plain, wake up, walk to the river, eat, walk back. Very boring for a sky person.

I walked back to Swan to hitch her somewhere safe and headed towards the dropship carefully.

Clearly not careful enough as I ended up in a trap, a bear trap of some sorts. It didn't have jagged edges like a normal trap, it was flat and only applied enough pressure to injure my foot and land me on the ground.

"Who are you?"

I heard a voice call from the bushes, it was very easy to spot him as he was a fairly tall man. How stupid could I have been? I wasn't even watching where I was looking? The trap wasn't even hidden that well and I walked right into it. I got weak. Clumsy. I let my guard down. I could never call myself an Azgeda assassin after this.

Moments passed without an answer from me and he was growing impatient.

"I said who are you? I am not afraid to kill you, grounder." Bellamy yelled, now emerging from the bushes with a pistol in hand. I may have let my guard down but I wouldn't let this man intimidate me.

"Azgeda," I say flatly, not revealing anything else.

Bellamy pondered for a moment, his gaze on me remained strong, not daring to look away, it was clear I intimidated him.

"Ice Nation? I said who are you."

No response.

"Tell me or I swear I will pull this trigger!" He shouted, stepping closer until the barrel of the gun was against my forehead.

I had already accepted death.

"Ai gonplei ste odon." My fight is over.

Bellamy had pistol-whipped me, and before I knew it I was knocked out.

Day three

I had awoken tied to the ladder in the dropship. Looking around I saw that most things were covered in tar from the fire, the only clean things being Bellamy's makeshift bed and his other belongings, as well as all my armor and layers, leaving me in a simple t-shirt; which I could only assume was his, and my jeans.

I was tied down with leftover seatbelts, very sturdy, I had struggled before finally giving in after a headache caught up with me.

I groaned in pain, death would've been kinder than a pistolwhip. Where even was he? Had he just left me here to rot?

A few moments after Bellamy had appeared from behind the red tarp acting as a door, he was wearing what he always wears. A gray shirt paired with his usual black jacket, with certain patches gone missing. His hair and face had been littered with dirt and blood, though I was sure the blood wasn't his.

"Good, you're awake. Makes this a lot easier." Bellamy spoke, swiftly walking to his pack next to his bed. My worry grew when he pulled something out, was he going to kill me now?

He pulled out a water flask and walked over to me, I'd never drink from an enemy's flask.

Bellamy put the flask to my mouth, when I pulled my face away he sighed and took a sip himself to show me it was safe. I still didn't trust it.

I took a big sip, and once he pulled it away I spit the water back into his face. He pursed his lips, seemingly trying to keep his anger down. I'd never be this man's peace.

"A bath would do you good, ripa." Murderer. Even without a bath, his scent was.. likable.

He scoffed amusingly, "That's funny coming from you, grounder."

Bellamy stood up, wiping away the water with his hand and turning his back towards me.

"What do you want from me?" He continued, grabbing a chair and sitting it close in front of me.

I refused to answer, I only stared at him with anger.

"I have all day, princess." He spoke, leaning back in the chair and pulling out a wrapped ration from his pocket. He was going to eat in front of me, what kind of torture method was this? And princess? Who does Bellamy think he is?

A few hours had passed since then and I really had to go. I'd been holding it in for hours but I was at my limit. Bellamy was still staring at me through it all, he could tell I was starting to get uneasy.

"I need to go..." I let out in a barely audible whisper, quickly regaining his attention.

"What was that?"

"I need to go."

The dots seemed to connect in his mind and he nodded, getting up ready to let my wrists free.

"Tell me your name first," Bellamy demanded.

Are you serious? Of course, he would stoop this low.

"y/n," I spoke with a sigh, I had no other choice but to give in. And with a nod, he freed me- well, for the most part, one of my hands was still attached to a seatbelt, which he was holding.

Bellamy led me out of the dropship and to the side, god, this was so embarrassing.

"Can you at least turn around?" I questioned, my voice wavering for the first time since I met him. So much for not being intimidated.

With a silent nod he turned to the side and I did my business, a real gentleman, pistol-whipping me, and tying me up.

Though I had no room to speak.

Day four

I was back on the ladder, and Bellamy was in his now usual spot. Right in front of me. I hadn't eaten in two days, he knew this. And he used it against me.

"Now, princess, why were you following me?" Bellamy questioned, waving a piece of fish in his hand, like I was some dog he was rewarding for good behavior.

Was he trying to train me?

I had come to the conclusion I either answer the question or die of starvation. I already failed the mission, I could never return to Azgeda or Polis. I couldn't face what was waiting for me.

"I was hired to kill you." I flatly state, eyeing the fish and practically drooling over it.

Bellamy seemed satisfied with this answer and handed me the piece with a small nod, which I quickly scarfed down. I watched him pull another from the little silver bag.

He really was training me.

"Why didn't you? You've been following me for a few days, and had plenty of chances."

I thought about my answer for a few seconds, "You were intriguing. You didn't act like how they described."

He only smiled at this, for reasons I couldn't comprehend. But I got another piece of fish so I didn't really care.

"Well, until you pistolwhipped me," I added in between bites. His smile slowly faded.

"Sorry about that, I didn't wanna kill you."

"Cause you needed answers?"

He hesitated.

"Yeah."

Day five - smut

The isolation had started to get to me, Bellamy being the only person I could see, and I started to notice more things about him. The way his back muscles would flex when he changed clothes. How defined his arms were and how defined his entire body was.

I cursed myself for having these thoughts about Bellamy, I was his prisoner, and I should be scared for my life.

It was particularly hot this morning, so Bellamy decided the best option was to be shirtless. All. Day.

His chest was well shaven surprisingly, and his pants sagged low, low enough to see his V line. That only brought worse thoughts. Thoughts I couldn't suppress.

He hadn't asked me any questions since I've awoken, I assume he's given up and doesn't need me anymore.

"Like the view?" He asks, snapping me out of my trance, how long had he known I was staring?

His gaze on me was intense. He knew I wouldn't answer his question so he only stepped closer and closer, leaning down when he got close enough to me.

"Keep looking pretty for me, yeah princess?" He spoke, his voice becoming husky.

A bright red tint lined my face at his words. Nobody had ever spoken to me in that way. I couldn't reply, too filled with nerves to form a comprehensible sentence, all I could do was stare at the handsome man before me and hope he didn't notice how vulnerable he made me.

Bellamy seemed to get an idea, with a smirk he stood up and sat back in the chair.

Leaning back he began unbuckling his belt, pushing his pants just below his bulge. I was more turned on than I'd ever been. Was he really going to do what I think he's gonna do? Now this is torture. Not being able to touch him.

Bellamy started palming himself through his boxers, letting little grunts slip past his mouth, meanwhile maintaining full eye contact with me- though my eyes were focused on his hands. I wanted so desperately for that to be my hands touching him, my hands making him feel good.

A few seconds passed before he pulled his boxers down just enough to reveal his entire cock, causing me to clench my thighs together tightly; craving any friction I could get. I now only realized the shirt I was wearing still had his scent on it, it was intoxicating.

He started stroking himself slowly, leaning his head back in pleasure. I needed him.

"Bellamy," I spoke, my voice laced with lust and need, my entire body feeling warm. His name sounded so good coming from my mouth. Bellamy's eyes locked back with mine as his pace quickened.

"Princess," His voice sounded breathy. The nickname did no help in calming me down. I wasn't sure what to say next.

Bellamy stood up and walked closer to me.

"On your knees." He demanded, to which I quickly obliged, finally getting what I wanted. I got to my knees and looked up at him, his cock resting on my rose-tinted cheek while his hand caressed my other cheek, moving down to my mouth and running his thumb along my lower lip; asking for entrance.

Opening my mouth I felt his thumb explore it, pressing softly against my tongue, all the while maintaining eye contact with me.

"So good for me." Bellamy praised before tapping his tip against my tongue, the taste being surprisingly good given the limited resources. He slowly inserted his cock into my mouth, releasing a loud groan of pleasure once he hit the back of my throat, the warmth feeling amazing against his dick.

His hand instinctively grabbed ahold of my hair, holding my head in place as he started throat fucking me. I began breathing through my nose and using my tongue to feel against his shaft. Bellamy's moans only grew louder and his breathing became erratic.

My mouth was doing this to him, I was making him feel so good.

"Just like that." He whispered between moans, noticing the tears that began to coat my cheeks.

His free hand gripped the ladder steps above my head. The hand on my hair gripped tighter than before, I could tell he was close.

His tip hit the back of my throat relentlessly, I was sure I'd have trouble speaking after this, but its be so worth it. I could feel his cock twitch in my mouth, his thrust slowly becoming sloppy.

"Doing so good, princess, so good, so fucking good."

My throat began to hurt from the abuse of his dick, and with one final deep thrust, I felt his warm cum fill my throat, forcing me to swallow every drop of the salty substance. Once he was sure he was done Bellamy pulled out, leaving my mouth feeling empty, missing the feeling of his cock. He was covered in sweat and I was covered in tears, but in this moment he never looked sexier.

I felt my hands drop to my sides, was he letting me free?

"Let's get cleaned up." He spoke, dropping the seat belt completely and helping me up. I stumbled a bit but used him as support. I was free but I didn't want to run.

In this moment nothing else mattered but him.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[restinslices]

If Kuai Liang Was A Sub

This has been sitting on my docs and for whatever reason, I didn’t post it. Anyway imma make the same disclaimer I did for Bi-Han’s part. I am a virgin. I get zero bitches. Absolutely zero play. Take everything I say with a grain of salt and if you think it’s inaccurate then damn. Idk. Minors MOOOOVEEE.

I feel like unlike Bi-Han, he'd be way more accepting of his role. Bi-Han is like, "sub? could never be me!", and Kuai Liang is like "yeah, absolutely"

I could see foreplay being his thing. To him, what adds up to sex is just as important as sex. 

Honestly I think he'd see all parts of sex as equally important. The leading up to, the actual act, and the aftercare. 

Remember when I said Bi-Han pissed you off on purpose because he enjoyed punishments? I don't think Kuai Liang would be like that. 

Don't get me wrong, he could do stupid shit at times or break rules but I feel like it'd legit be on accident. 

Like you'd tell him he can't touch you as you ride him, but he'd completely forget that and do it anyway. 

Your pleasure to him would be the most important. If he doesn't cum, it's a bummer. But you not cumming? Absolutely not. 

He moans loudly and gasps. idk why I get this vibe, but I do. 

He's also shameless. I feel like if someone was like "I heard you having sex last night", Bi-Han would be confrontational. Tomas would be embarrassed. Kuai Liang would apologize but would turn around and ask you to fuck him harder this time. 

Because let's bffr, what is anyone gonna do to him? 

He'd be into being tied up by his own ropes. It'll be all he could think of when he's using them in other situations and honestly? Gets him determined to return home to you. 

Kinks I'd think he'd have would be restraints, overstimulation, roleplay, orgasm control, praise and/or degradation (idk if he'd like one over the other. pick whichever you like), and dare I say a knife kink?

Obviously don't fucking stab him but some threatening? He's into it. 

He loves making you feel good and loves when you use him to make yourself feel good 

Adding onto that, idk why but he's giving "ride me in my sleep" energy. consensually of course, this would obviously be something discussed. 

I can't put my finger on why, but I just really feel like he'd enjoy waking up to you using him. Maybe he enjoys the thought that you constantly want him. Once again though, this would be something discussed beforehand. Don't just try this shit at home. This would require lots of talks, boundaries, knowing when it'd be ok, shit like that. imma say it again, do not randomly try this shit. 

A punishment I think he'd hate is not being able to touch you. He'd be away a lot on Liu Kang's orders, so when you're together he wants to touch you so he remembers it when he's away. When you're having sex, he especially wants to touch you. So you saying "no" would be hard for him

I know we're mainly talking about sex but I think it'd be more than that for him. I'm not saying you control everything he does but this man is probably stressed out all the time. He has two brothers who have constant beef (which is one sided fr), he's probably still missing his dad, he's constantly risking his life for others, and life just has a lot of bullshit going on. 

Serving Earthrealm means he's always doing stuff for other people. So sometimes he likes when you're the one choosing what he'll do for the day because he knows you'll pick stuff that would benefit him. Does that make sense?

Like, non sexually you may say “hey I want you to go take a long bath, then put some clothes on. I already have the water and your clothes ready”. Shit like that. Don't get it misconstrued, you're not becoming his mom. You're just taking more of a leadership role, which he appreciates. 

Sexually though, it'd tie into orgasm control. You'd tell him what to do, where to touch, when to stop, where to look, etc. He knows whatever you're having him do is to make him feel good. To put himself first, which he has a hard time doing. 

I'm not saying y'all don't have straight “I'm tryna fuck” type of sex, but I think he'd enjoy some soft stuff occasionally. Helps him relax. 

As for aftercare I think unlike Bi-Han, he'd enjoy talking after. Especially depending on what was going on. 

Softer sex probably results in cuddling then talking about whatever. Something more intense would include a breather, checking in, then whatever else he needs. Sometimes it's a bath immediately, sometimes it's playing with his hair to bring him back down. 

Sometimes it's you reminding him that he's doing his best. Sex can be a good way to relieve tension, but it's not a permanent fix. You like to remind him that he's a good person and sometimes bad shit happens to good people. Just a nice deep chat. 

He gives me “I'm tryna find my wife” at the club vibes, idk. is that outta line?😭

He's not as soft as Tomas but he's not as hardheaded as Bi-Han. He's a nice in between. 

Y’all already know Tomas is next. Stay tuned

[jeonqkooks]

kyoho | ksj

You love your grape boy, and your grape boy... well, he might just love you a little too much.

pairing: seokjin x f!reader

rating: pg13

genre/warnings: established relationship, swearing bc when is there no swearing in my fics, mentions of seggs, suggestive themes, fluff, crack?? idk, my brand of fics is Unedited y'all know that's how we roll

word count: 1.8k

notes: i've been buying a lot of grapes lately (am i a grape person now??) and i've been eating them almost every day and of course i had to think about grape jinnie my beloved, my ultimate favorite seokjin and i want him to come back to me :((( idk that's how this lil thang came to me lmao it's the most crackhead shit i've ever written sOoOoOoOo please laugh or else ! 👿 jk but not really

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

"If you do this, we're done."

"Y/N."

"I swear, if you go through with this, we are over!"

Seokjin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly not expecting you to be so passionate about the subject at hand. "The appointment is in an hour," he says.

"Cancel it. I don't care!" you cry. "Please don't do this. Don't take him away. He means the world to me."

Your boyfriend stares at you, mouth agape, then points to his head incredulously. "Him? My hair?"

"Yes!" You crawl over to his side of the couch to straddle his lap, actual tears welling in your eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and silky it feels in your hands. His gorgeous, gorgeous purple locks. The ones he's ready to sacrifice in favor of half blond, half red hair by demand of one Jeon Jungkook.

You shouldn't be this upset over him dyeing his hair, but you are, despite knowing full well that the purple will be gone soon anyway. His dark roots are starting to show already.

It's shark week, and there are not enough words in the dictionary to express how devastated you are that he's taking away your emotional support Grape Jinnie.

A couple months ago, when he told you that he'd be dyeing his hair purple, you were highly skeptical of the decision. You didn't know if he had the face to pull off purple of all colors, even though you had already seen him sport every other color of the rainbow and absolutely rocked every single one.

The whole week leading up to his salon appointment, you teased him endlessly - started calling him Grape Boy, bought him box after box of Kyoho grapes, photoshopping Kylie Jenner's purple hair onto his head and making it your lockscreen... It was mostly just grape puns, you were really milking that whole thing.

But then he came home, hair freshly bleached and colored, and your jaw dropped to the ground and stayed there for ten whole minutes.

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets from how good he looked.

No, he didn't just look good. He was stunning, breathtaking, mindbogglingly beautiful and all the other synonyms that one could name.

The man fucking ate and left no crumbs.

That night was one of the best sex you two have ever had.

To say that you were obsessed with this shade on him is the understatement of the year.

"Don't do it," you plead. "If you really love me, you won't do it."

"You're being so dramatic. It's just hair." Seokjin puts his hands on your waist while you keep yours on his head, clutching his strands like a lifeline. "Plus, I have to honor the bet!"

Your expression turns stony then, as your eyes travel from the silky purple down to his face. You tighten your grip on his hair and tug on it sharply until your boyfriend is scowling in discomfort.

The bet. The stupid fucking bet he made with Jungkook.

You had explicitly told him there no chance in hell that he could win, but Seokjin could be an overly confident asshole sometimes.

He was in way over his head, and now you're the one suffering.

"You idiot," you hiss, pulling on his hair again, "why the fuck did you think you could do more pushups than Jungkook?"

"I don't know! We were tipsy and it seemed possible at the time!"

Releasing his hair, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply.

"Why am I being punished for your actions?" you mumble against his skin, then you ask, voice full of futile hope. "What if you just... don't do it?"

"Then I have to buy him a new mattress. He cut his mattress with scissors to make it fit into his bed frame and now it's all fucked up."

You give yourself a minute to think. There has to be a solution to your distress. You just gotta think. Think, brain, think!

And then you remember. Seokjin is still a man.

You lean back to look at him properly, straightening your position on his lap. You give him your biggest puppy dog eyes before you say, "I promise I will blow you every day from now on if you keep the hair."

If he was drinking water, you're fairly certain that he would've choked. Your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise, his skin turning a dozen shades warmer, blushing from his cheeks all the way to the top of his ears.

Bingo.

"What?" he asks, like this is something so scandalous.

You lean forward to pepper kisses all over his face, putting more weight on your offer. "I promise," you say, pecking his cute cheek, "to blow you," then his forehead, "every single day," then his nose, "from now on," and finally his lips.

You linger near his mouth, not pulling away just yet. Your lips brush against his once more until you feel his hands tighten on your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer as you press forward, giving him a proper kiss to seal the deal.

Seokjin practically melts underneath you. Victory is so close that you can taste it. You're doing this for the greater good of mankind, for Grape Jinnie. Jungkook can fuck off with his half seasoned, half fried bullshit.

But then, Seokjin abruptly rips away from you to shriek, nearly blowing your eardrums out. The suddenness of his movements almost make you tumble off the couch.

"No, don't try to tempt me! Mattresses are expensive as fuck!"

It's been a few hours. He should be back any minute now.

Ever since Seokjin left to go to his hair appointment after having to peel you off of him because you were clinging to his body like a goddamn koala, you've been wallowing in your misery. You even busted out the big guns - Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream (with real peanut butter cups!) - to help you through this difficult time.

You're in full grieving mode now. Goddamnit. Fate is a cruel mistress.

Or in this case, Jungkook. Jungkook is a cruel mistress. That fucking guy.

When you hear the door open and the subsequent clanging of Seokjin's keys as he hangs them on one of the hooks in the entryway, you prepare to give him the biggest pout you can manage.

But then, he comes into view a few seconds later, and you gasp. You actually gasp. Before he knows what's happening, you're rising from the couch and sprinting toward him, launching into his arms with the biggest smile on your face like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You're still a grape!" you squeal joyously.

Seokjin lets out a surprise Oof! at the sudden force of your body knocking the breath out of him.

"What a warm welcome," he mutters. "I don't think you've ever been this happy to see me."

"What happened?!" you ask, eyes wide, grin even wider. "Did you change your mind because you love me so much?"

You run your hands through his hair to make sure that it's real, that you're not hallucinating this because you just love the purple so goddamn much.

And it is! It's still here! His hair is still that luscious shade of purple that you adore with your entire being.

Seokjin eyes you for a moment before he says, "I compromised with Jungkook. Did something else instead."

"What did you do?"

"I got a tattoo."

"You what?!"

"He said I wouldn't have to dye my hair if I got a tattoo of his choosing."

"Oh, no," you try to sound sympathetic but fail miserably. You cover your mouth with your hand to hide your smile, already sensing the absolute crackhead chaos that will ensue in a matter of minutes. Having been friends with Jungkook for years, you know that dude comes up with the craziest shit sometimes.

Seokjin turns around and pulls up his shirt, and you almost die from the fit of ugly snorting laughter that immediately rips itself free from your mouth. His skin underneath the transparent cling film is still slightly red, but the letters adorning the expanse of his lower back is clear as day.

You cannot find it in yourself to blink, not when the black ink is just staring at you like that. The font, so formal and classic, and yet the content of it... what a contrast.

"Kim Seokjin!" you wheeze, wiping tears from your eyes and struggling to catch your breath. "How could you possibly think that this is a better idea than to just dye your hair!"

"You begged me to keep the hair!"

"I did," you agree, clutching your stomach as giggles continue wracking through your whole body. It's almost painful at this point. "But I don't want my boyfriend to have a tramp stamp that says fucking Chicken in Times New Roman!"

"It was either this," he says, turning back to face you, "or a sketch of his head on a chicken's body."

"What is up with him and chickens? Is that his new thing now?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Well, thank you for doing that for me," you say appreciatively as you pull him in for a kiss, which isn't very graceful because you're still tittering the whole time. "But please tell me that's not permanent."

Seokjin stays quiet, his eyes dropping to the floor, and you stop laughing immediately.

"Oh my god," you say. "Is the Chicken tramp stamp permanent?!"

"No," he finally admits after a moment of hanging it over your head. As funny as the whole thing is, you do not want the love of your life to walk around sporting the most ridiculous tattoo in human history. "It's supposed to fade after a month."

You lean into him again, heaving a giant sigh of relief and wrapping your arms around his neck. One of your hands go for his hair again, weaving through the soft locks with your fingers because how could you not? "I love you, Grape," you say, pecking his cheek with a grin.

Seokjin rolls his eyes affectionately, but returns a peck to your own cheek. "I have a tramp stamp of the word Chicken and my parents might disown me for that, but at least you get to keep your Grape Boy," he says, making you giggle again.

"Because you love me so much, right?"

"Hmm. You're lucky I do."

You give him another kiss, one full of gratitude, for indulging your antics. When you move to return to the couch, Seokjin tugs on your wrist, pulling you back into him.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong," he says, acting all coy and shit, "but I recall you making me a promise earlier, no? What was it again?"

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 16.04.2023]

[bethanydelleman]

The reason I go on about hating unwarranted jealousy so much is because it's one of the tropes that tricked me. I won't fall for "I can fix him with love" but jealousy is often given as a trait to male characters who are otherwise a green flag. They are unhealthily jealous and it's not treated as a bad thing.

I went into my first serious relationship expecting jealousy to be normal and kind of surprised when my partner was never jealous. But why would he have been? I never gave him a reason to be jealous or to not trust me. I hadn't been in a serious relationship before and I thought it was standard.

When I actually examined my life and what would make a movie character jealous, I realized it was stupid because my situation would have been the most jealousy inducing thing on TV. I lived in a five bedroom student house with 4 guys (Am I New Girl?). My best friend was a guy whom I lived with and cooked for. I worked with engineers and my team was all men except for me, my floor at work had 4 women on it out of at least 50 employees. I'm sure a TV version of me would have had my boyfriend showing up at work to "mark his territory" or some B.S. or wanting me to move out of my house. But as Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey points out:

"Would he thank you, either on his own account or Miss Thorpe’s, for supposing that her affection, or at least her good behaviour, is only to be secured by her seeing nothing of Captain Tilney? Is he safe only in solitude? Or is her heart constant to him only when unsolicited by anyone else?"

You are always going to have people around you that you might be able to date, that is life. The important part is how you act. It didn't matter who I lived with because I treated them like roommates. It didn't matter who I worked with because I treated them as colleagues. It didn't matter who my best friend was because he was a friend. What mattered is that I considered myself taken. That is the best assurance of faithfulness.

I don't mind Jealousy that Reveals Feelings in media, but I do mind things that border on or are straight up abusive, controlling behaviour that is portrayed as sexy. It can be a delicate balance, if what you need is for the female lead to realize the male lead likes her, then him showing some overt jealousy may be necessary. but it shouldn't go too far into control. I've seen it used well where a character overreacts jealously but then apologizes, so you get the passion and the healthy relationship. It makes sense to see jealousy if one side of a partnership isn't setting boundaries in public or seems to not mind that someone is hitting on them. But jealousy without cause is just toxic.

I hope I've explained myself well. This post is ignoring poly relationships because I know nothing about them.

[heartfullofleeches]

This is such a silly and stupid idea but I am desperate for a Yandere x Reader where the Yandere is this extremely paranoid/depressed fuck who thinks the world is diseased and the only way for it to get clean is to get rid of all human life on it, they are willing to kill for a "better cause" and have absolutely no mercy...and then there is Reader (the only person they don't hate entirely), who is into Eurodance, is extremely positive and is a complete fashion disaster who believes it is good in everything and everyone.

This is very much based on my recent obsession with Planet of the Bass but let's not talk about it lol.

I just want these two completely opposite bitches to try and teach each other their points of view while one slowly falls in love with the other

[Here's a blurbo I had in limbo with a similar plot. Yan is indeed depressed/hates the world and Reader's moreso into rave because I dunno anything about Eurodance. Tw: themes of suicide]

This is it. Their final night alive.

They'd done all they needed. Returned a book collecting dust on their desk. Disposed of the tools used on corpses in some other lake to keep their name from more attention. It's crazy how in their last moments all that mattered was the thoughts and options of those who lead them to this fate. How disgusting. They did their victims a favor by leaving them nameless. The murky waters below reflect a dread known long before the plunge. There is nothing waiting for them. Not here. Not on the other side.

Their final night alive. Or so it would have been.

Right as they climbed on the bridge's ledge, back facing the sky, small beads of light rose from the hill adjacent. The tiny orbs merge into separate distinct figures on the horizon. Wheeling onto the scene, the group ride with vehicles unusual for the terrain. Rollerskates, skateboards, electric scooters. They wear some matter of bright clothing with glowsticks and lights dangling from their person in flashy jewelry and attached to headphones they wore. They all seemed to be equipped with some type of earwear and dancing to their own beat while still moving as one.

The group stop at the other side of the road, all oblivious to the shadow lurking across the way. They glared - climbing down from the ledge and sitting upon it, seething. The group may not notice them now, but they'd surely catch on at most inconvenient time. It would seem their presence wasn't completely ignored as one head turns their way. One of the figures wearing skates waves, pointing to one of the many necklaces around their neck. The shadow avoids their smile, praying they get the message.

They don't.

Sparkling wheels crunch over gravel. "Hey."

Silence.

They remove their headphones. "Hey!"

Nothing. Persisting, the person wheels over to the railing, leaning against it as they breath in the salty air. "Long drop down. Won't be quick."

As if that would deter them.

"I won't get on your case. We've all been there at some point. Life sucks, and then you did. Feels like your taking control by going out on your own terms, but you won't and may never will. That's why it's important to enjoy the little things. It's why I hang out with those guys. We get together every once and a while. Party on wheels as some of us call it. Lots of fun."

The party-goer takes off their headphones and places their music player on the railing. "This is what I listen to when I'm down. Maybe it can help you. Maybe not - but I'd like you to return it some day. My name is Y/n, by the way. Just so you know when we meet again."

You take off your necklace and offer it to them. They take it - just to get you to leave them alone. You solemnly wave again, returning to your group and taking over the mantle of carrying the portable speaker another brought with them. You take their arm, balancing skillfully on your wheels as you dance the fleeting night away with no care of the coming dawn.

Your type were the worse of all. Giving them more tasks to complete before they departed from this miserable world. They hated carrying the duties given by others on their shoulders so much they couldn't pass on, but looking at your smiling face, sorting through the music that got you through the toughest - they couldn't see themselves from fulfilling their end of the deal you set anywhere in the near future.

For once in their life living in someone's else's shadow didn't seem so bad.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

HEAVY TF2 TUMMY ‼️‼️‼️

Hello! Hi! I am very excited to receive this ask! I'm no artist, but I hope you'll accept this instead of art :)

————————————————————

Medic was a strange man, Heavy thought to himself. He was the only man that would make him stand in front of a mirror, showing exactly where he’d be placing each cut in his next surgery. He never understood why Medic felt the need to do this. Maybe he just wanted to make sure Heavy understood, maybe it was just fun for him. But one thing that Heavy understood is that he had started to feel…uncomfortable in moments like these. His chest was exposed, but more importantly, to him, his stomach was. He had never been one to be self conscious, at least, he couldn’t remember it ever being a problem. But something in his brain had changed, something gave him a sinking feeling whenever his stomach had to be exposed, he wished he knew what had changed, how to get rid of this feeling, this ever growing internal anxiety building inside of him, even the feelings of discomfort that filled him as he stood there. What was there to be scared of, really? He couldn’t answer that. He just knew he wasn’t happy with the sight in front of him. It was-

“Heavy? Are you even listening to me?” Medic’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts quickly. He saw the doctor's disappointed gaze fall on him. He hated disappointing Medic, he did love him after all, and he truly cared that he was excited and ready to ramble off to him, but lately, his thoughts got the better of him, taking his attention away, and he felt more than a little bad about his neglect of the conversation,

“Sorry, Doktor.” He says quickly, his tone genuine. Medic’s gaze shifts from one of disappointment to one of momentary confusion,

“I’ve noticed your mind has been wandering when I try to talk about these surgeries. Have I come to bore you?” His voice remains neutral, but a slight shift in his gaze expresses worry.

“No, no, Heavy could never be bored of Doktor.” Heavy says wanting to rid Medic of the thought, the possibility of that ever happening as soon as possible. Medic only hums, trying to ponder the issue. Wondering what could have caused this sudden change, then it clicks, his eyes widened with realization, 

“Ah, I see…” he starts, “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the way you can’t seem to look at yourself in the mirror as of late?” At first, Medic had assumed that it was a sudden bout of nerves, sure, his surgeries were painless, but no doubt his way of expressing love through them could lead to a few tense moments while he showed Heavy in great detail how he planned to cut him up this time. Medic may not have been a stupid man, but he was a dense one, but the second everything clicked, he could plan out his next moves accordingly. 

Heavy, for his part, felt seen through. There was something about the man in front of him, the man he fell in love with, that terrified him. It wasn’t the blood, guts, or general gore, but the fact that he could read him so well. He felt Medic’s presence shift from on his right side to his back, Medic’s head resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me what is bothering you.” He said softly, in a gentler tone, a tone he rarely used, reserved for the soft moments the two shared. “Tell me, why will you not look?” He gestures at the mirror, “You are so beautiful after all,” he hums, “I just wish for you to see what I can see.” Heavy felt himself tense. He wanted to believe him. He truly did, but some mental mind block, some part of him that he came to despise told him it was all too good to be true. Heavy, however, smiled, suppressing a sigh, 

"Thank you, but Doktor does not have to say nice things just to make Heavy feel better." Medic blinked, laughing softly.

"Oh come now Heavy, I thought you would know by now I'm not one to lie." He pauses, "Especially to those I love." He smiles, "Now! You did not tell me what is bothering you! What seems to be causing you the most trouble, hm?" He says cheerfully, moving slightly away from him. Heavy doesn't know what to say, he could tell the truth, but it was like his mind wouldn't allow his mouth to move.

"I see, too nervous to speak about this?" Medic asks, "I am sure we can figure it out with out any words. I am good at reading people, no?" He smiles as he gets closer to Heavy. "Is it your arms?" He asks watching for a response, an indicator, anything. He continues. Prompting for any part of his torso, until... "Oh, do not tell me it is your stomach you are worried about." He says softly. He sees Heavy's eyes flick away from the slight in the mirror, feels him tense slightly, he's got him.  "Meine Liebe..." he says, his words softer than ever, he leans close to Heavy, "This," he starts, putting his hands on his stomach softly "is beautiful." He continues, touching it softly. "You are beautiful." He kisses his cheek. "I do love you, truly," he smiles softly, "all of you."  He continues as he rubs his stomach softly. Heavy feels his body relax, and his mind be put at ease. He turns slightly to Medic, smiling, he's happy, so, so happy. 

"Thank you, Doktor." He says, reaching a hand to hold Medic's. "Thank you." Medic smiles, making his way in front of Heavy. 

"I love you, Misha." He says as he smiles,

"I love you too, Ludwig." Heavy replies, kissing him softly. And in that moment, things were perfect, and he was loved, and he felt beautiful.

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I'm glad I finally pushed myself to write this because I definitely had fun doing it. I hope you liked it! Happy birthday by the way, I hope this is a good present :D