#anyways. not completely satisfied with the colors

[sandsofsolstice]

another castiel with dean's soul.......... he guards it like a dragon btw........ he will keep it safe at all costs....... keep it warm, even...... alt versions below thy line.....

[ohnoitsz1m]

Halflife ponies. Btw.

A warning to any MLP enjoyers: if this ends up on derpibooru or any similar site I'll gnaw you into splinters like a cheap plastic dog toy. I'm on the DNP lists under animatorfun and I'll request a new link for this blog specifically if I havw to. Please stop reuploading my shit 💀

Edit: i forgot to reenable the layer with Gordon's glasses it's so over. I was wondering why she looked weird oughhgggh

Edit2: fixed gordon <3

[buttercupshands]

friend gift acquired

the whole gang is hereeeeeee

[aryaryxoxo]

Six Times You and Bakugou Couldn't Escape Each Other (and One Time You Really Couldn't) #katsuki bakugou x fem!reader ⤷ Every year, without fail, your families book at the same resort at the same time—for six years straight. And every year, like clockwork, you and Bakugou Katsuki somehow manage to ruin each other’s vacation. (5k)

Warning: grammar, idk ajsdnkada

next

Year one

“Sweetheart, slow down!” your father called out behind you as you bolted down the hallway, suitcase wheels clattering noisily behind you. You could hardly contain your excitement for the week ahead. Your parents had promised a stay at a luxurious five-star resort—complete with museums, slides, swimming pools, nature for sight seeing and more. To your ten-year-old mind, it sounded like paradise.

You fumbled eagerly with the hotel room keycard your mother handed you earlier, finally managing to swipe it through the door scanner. With a satisfying click, the door opened, and you stepped inside—eyes widening in awe.

The room was huge. The soft scent of linen and the faint hum of air conditioning greeted you as you took in the two queen-sized beds. One was obviously meant for you, and the other is for your parents, though everyone knew you'd end up sleeping with them anyway. Still, your parents had asked for an extra bed, hoping to make you feel a little more independent.

“Mama! There’s a huge balcony!” you squealed, climbing up on a nearby chair to peek out at the view.

“Be careful, my dear,” your mother warned gently as she came over and scooped you into her arms, holding you securely so you could see better. The sun bathed the surrounding trees in golden light, and below, the pool sparkled like a jewel.

“Dear look, we have a neighbor,” she murmured, pointing to the balcony beside yours.

Later, you busied yourself by placing Mr. Strawberry—your beloved stuffed bear—on the bed near the large window. You carefully unpacked his accessories from your bag: a pair of sunglasses, a pink dress (because Mr. Strawberry didn’t care about colors), and a plastic toy ice cream cone.

“What else did I bring?” you muttered, burying your head into the small backpack to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

When you finally pulled your head out, you froze.

Standing in front of you, gripping Mr. Strawberry by the neck with a suspicious glare, was a blond boy around your age. His red eyes were narrowed into a deadly squint, locked onto you like laser. You blinked. He blinked back—menacingly.

“Can you give him back to me?” you asked, arms stretched out, trying to sound calm despite the twitch in your eye. “No,” the blond menace replied, with all the audacity in the world.

You took a deep breath. Maybe he didn’t hear you right. “Please give me back.” He looked you dead in the eyes, held the bear tighter, and said, “No. Again.”

Without thinking, you launched yourself forward, diving to rescue Mr. Strawberry from the clutches of the foul beast.

“What are you doing?!” you screeched, tugging at your bear’s paw.

“Why are you in our room?!” he snapped, yanking back.

“This is our room, you jerk!”

“You’re the jerk!”

Kid logic took over, and the war began.

"You murderer!" you cried, grabbing a fistful of his spiky hair and yanking it like your life depended on it.

"OW! You psycho!" he bellowed, still holding Mr. Strawberry hostage.

That was the moment your parents burst out of the bathroom, faces frozen in horror. There you were, their sweet little child, with a death grip on some blonde boy’s hair, while he clutched your teddy bear like it was a hostage negotiation gone wrong.

“KATSUKI! We haven’t even checked into the room and you're already causing trouble!” a voice shouted from the doorway.

All eyes turned to the new arrival—a wild-eyed blonde woman, her fiery stare nearly identical to the boy’s. She stormed over, grabbed the boy—Katsuki—by the collar, yanked the bear from his arms, and gently handed it back to you with a tight, apologetic smile.

“I’m very sorry,” she said with a deep, frantic bow, still hugging her son tightly as he kicked and protested in her grip. “I hope my son didn’t hurt your daughter.”

“Why are you apologizing?! That brat started it!” Bakugou barked, twisting in her arms.

“What brat!?” you snapped, hugging Mr. Strawberry tightly to your chest as you locked eyes with the demon child in a full-on death glare challenge.

“We’re also sorry. I hope our daughter didn’t hurt your son,” your parents added politely, bowing back.

You turned toward them with a look of sheer betrayal.

“What?! He started it! He wanted Mr. Strawberry to die! He was gripping him by the neck!” you defended with the sincerity of someone reporting a serious crime.

“Hah! That’s a stupid name for a teddy bear,” Bakugou muttered, sticking out his tongue and pulling a face.

His mother quickly slapped her hand over his mouth and hissed, “Shut it.”

Your father knelt down in front of you, his expression calm and soft. “Sweetheart, I know how protective you are of Mr. Strawberry, but you could have really hurt him. I don’t think Mr. Strawberry would’ve wanted that.”

That made you pause. You looked down at Mr. Strawberry, then up at the boy who had just been silenced by his mother. His mouth was finally free, and he looked like he had more dumb things to say.

“If he apologizes for hurting Mr. Strawberry,” you said solemnly, “then I’ll apologize too.”

“Hah! As if I will—!”

“Katsuki.” His mother’s tone was deadly.

“...Fine! Sorry!” he spat.

You gave a slow, dramatic nod. “Fine. Sorry too.”

And thus, a truce was declared.

“Again, my deepest apologies,” the woman said, rubbing her temple with a sigh. “The receptionist gave us the wrong keys”

She turned to your parents, offering a strained smile. “I’m Mitsuki Bakugou, by the way.” She reached out to shake their hands with her right hand while still trying to wrangle the wild animal with the other.

She finally set him down when a man’s voice called out from behind her.

“Honey, I finally got the keys!”

A man with slightly tousled brownish hair stepped into view, holding up a new keycard triumphantly. The demon child—aka Katsuki Bakugou—immediately ran over and latched onto the man’s leg like a clingy goblin.

Mitsuki grabbed the card from his hand as he introduced himself as the husband and father. You blinked. This gentle, quiet-looking man was the father of that tiny demon? You couldn’t quite figure out how that made sense. But then again, his mother was currently throwing daggers with her eyes at her own son. Maybe chaos just ran in the bloodline.

“Looks like we’re next to each other,” she said with a small smile, glancing between your families.

That statement made both you and Katsuki whip your heads around to glare at each other.

This vacation was doomed.

Year two

“I’m so excited!” you muttered to yourself, practically bouncing on your heels. Today was the day—you were finally going to ride the big slide. The one that twisted around the resort’s water park. It was so cool, you had to climb three flights of stairs before you even began.

You hurried up the stairs, clutching the wet rail, already picturing yourself screaming with joy on the way down. But just as you reached the second floor, an aggravatingly familiar voice echoed behind you.

“I’m faster than you, idiot!”

That kid. The one from last year. Bakugou Katsuki, aka the bane of your last year vacation’s existence, was charging up the stairs like his life depended on it. 

Was it stupid to race up three flights of slippery stairs, where one wrong step could lead to a full-on cartoon-style head trauma? Absolutely.

Did that stop you?

Not a chance. He ruined your vacation last year (both of you had spent the entire week glaring at each other across hallways, pool chairs, and buffet lines until the day you left).

You took off after him, determined not to let the blond gremlin beat you. The two of you reached the top at the same time, immediately breaking into a loud argument over who touched the top step first.

“I clearly beat you!”

“No way, I saw your foot slip, loser!”

The poor lifeguard attendant looked at you both with all the exhaustion of someone who did not get paid enough for this. After one long glance, she pointed toward the exit.

“You’re both too little for the slide.”

You stared in horror. Bakugou’s face contorted with the rage of a thousand suns.

“What?! That’s stupid! I can ride it! Height doesn’t even matter! I’m ready! I’ve got reflexes and everything!”

The worker sighed, looking you both over with an exhausted expression. “Kid,” she said, pointing directly at Bakugou, “you’re standing on your tiptoes right now.”

Bakugou shot her a death glare, but she didn't flinch.

“And,” she continued, barely hiding the exhaustion in her voice, “you need to be fifteen years old to slide down”

“I’m fifteen!” you insist, trying to convince the lifeguard. You widen your eyes, putting on your best puppy-dog look. Well it doesn’t work because both of you ended up sulking at the bottom of the slide five minutes later—soaked, grumpy, and somehow even more determined to ruin each other’s day.

“This is your fault!” Bakugou snapped, crossing his arms and practically vibrating with rage.

“Huh?! Be grateful we didn’t end up banned from the slide because of your ego! Demon child!” you shot back, pointing at him like he was the cause of global warming.

Bakugou, clearly offended. “What did you just call me?!” He lets out a loud tch and sparks begin crackling from his palms—tiny bursts of frustration lighting up like firecrackers.

And of course, not to be outdone, you activated your own quirk—just enough to make your point. 

“Kids,” the lifeguard said, suddenly appearing between you like a divine referee, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “Please don’t use your quirks. There are children running around. And frankly, you’re the loudest ones here.”

You both instantly looked away, muttering complaints under your breath. But the battle was far from over.

Year three

You tried not to be paranoid—really, you did. This was supposed to be a good week. You were at your favorite resort, the sun was shining, and everything should’ve been perfect.

Should’ve.

But how could you truly enjoy it when a certain gremlin with anger issues kept popping up every year to ruin your peace?

Not this time, you told yourself. This year, you were going to have a good time. No explosions. No arguments. No Katsuki Bakugou.

That’s why you begged your mother to sign up for the museum tour being held on the other side of the resort. A quiet, educational day. Some mother-daughter bonding. And besides, the odds are in your favor. Day three of your trip and you still haven’t seen him.

“My dear, are you okay?” your mother asked, noticing the way your head kept whipping side to side.

You were scanning the crowd like a wartime soldier, just to be sure there were no signs of blond chaos. You hated to admit it, but every time you spotted someone with spiky blond hair, your soul briefly left your body and rage came in.

Even back home in the United States, you found yourself flinching at the sight of blond, spiky hair in public. He lived in Japan, for crying out loud. 

And yet, every time you spotted someone who even remotely resembled him, your fight-or-flight kicked in like clockwork.

“And this,” the tour guide said cheerfully, pointing to a glass display, “is a fossil discovered along the shores of this very resort!”

You leaned in, relaxing just a bit—until the guide looked past the crowd and said:

“Oh! You must be Ms. Bakugou! Please, please, join the tour. You’re not late.”

No.

No, no, no.

Why.

You turned slowly, clinging to your last sliver of hope that maybe it was just his mom. Maybe she came alone this year. Maybe the universe had some mercy.

But no. Because right there, next to her, stood him. And of course, he was already looking directly at you like he knew this would happen.

You whipped your head back around.

Don’t look again. Don’t look again. Don’t—

You looked again.

And he smirked.

He only muttered two words.

“Mr. Strawberry”

That was it. Just two words.

Oh, you were going to go berserk on a 12-year-old.

Year four

If you asked Bakugou if he loved the beach, he’d tell you he hated it more than losing a fight—because at least that, he could control. He could train harder, fight smarter, blast his way to a win. But the beach? The beach had sand that was somehow always stuck in his shoes, sunburn on his neck, and screaming kids with no sense of personal space.

He’d take a sparring match over this hell they called the beach any day.

And yet, every summer, without fail, his parents dragged him back to the same resort.

He'd complain, scowl, and threaten to blow up the welcome banner—again. But deep down? There was something about this place that kept him from actually going nuclear.

Something he refused to admit even existed.

And right now, that something was in front of him, on the balcony beside his own. Glaring while holding that ridiculous plushie with the equally ridiculous name Mr. Strawberry. It’s so absurd, so laughable, that Bakugou could hardly hold back a snort every time he thought about it. He’d even catch himself smirking in class sometimes, thinking about how seriously you’d defend that stupid bear.

“I guess satan couldn’t reach me so he sent you,” You remarked with a mocking grin, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

Bakugou stared at you blankly, his expression the epitome of unamused. “What did you just say?”

You turned to leave, done with his obnoxious presence. But before you could take a step away, Bakugou's eyes flicked over to the water gun resting on the railing beside him. His gaze narrowed, and a dangerous smirk played on his lips.

“Oh, you think you can walk away without paying for that?” he muttered to himself, his fingers tightening around the handle of the water gun. With one swift motion, he aimed it directly at you.

The cold blast of water hits you square in the back, instantly drenching your pajama and sending a chill through your spine.

You whipped around, face flushed with irritation. “What the hell, Bakugou?!”

He was grinning now, pure smugness plastered across his face. “Satan said you needed a bath.”

You looked at him, seething with frustration, your hand already reaching for something you could use in return. And then it clicked. His stupid mistake.

You grabbed the water gun sitting by your side, fully aware that a little bit of payback was in order. You aimed it at him, squeezing the trigger with satisfaction as the cold stream of water hit his chest.

“Guess you needed one too,” you shot back, a smirk forming on your face now.

Bakugou's eyes flared with irritation, and for a moment, it seemed like he might retaliate with a blast of his quirk. But there was something about the way the water gun had soaked him that made him pause, a little part of him enjoying this.

Damn it. He cursed silently, but deep down, he knew that this—whatever this is—had become a weird part of his vacation routine.

And that’s when it hit him: The universe must really hate him. For the past four years, he’d been stuck in the same resort, rooming next to you year after year. Always just a balcony away. Always.

It was like the universe wanted him to deal with you. And Mr. Strawberry.

And for a moment, the stupid thought flickered in his mind: This summer wouldn’t feel right without it.

“Tch, whatever," Bakugou grumbled, wiping his face with his hand. "This is so stupid."

Year five

“Mom, you know I hate hiking, right?” you groaned as you trudged behind your parents up the hill.

“Dear, I thought you wanted to be a pro-hero?” your mother chirped back. “You need stamina training! And fresh air!”

“Lots of fresh air,” your dad added, already taking a dramatic picture of the tree line like it was the cover of a nature documentary. “This resort just keeps getting better. Look at this view! Million-dollar scenery!”

You did admit—it was beautiful. Rolling green hills, birds chirping, a breeze cool enough to keep your sweat from sticking. Still.

“Great, can we go back now?” you asked, eyes hopeful. Desperate.

Your mother shot you a look. “That’s a terrible mindset, young lady.”

And then—because the universe is an evil, evil thing—a familiar voice spoke up behind you.

“I see you’ve finally taken a liking to hiking, huh?”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Masaru Bakugou. Which could only mean…

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath. Why not ruin the day completely.

Sure enough, stomping beside his parents, wearing a scowl that could peel bark off a tree, was none other than him. Bakugou Katsuki. He grew around a few inches in height since last year but still the same temper, same explosive aura of annoyance. But this time… he locked eyes with you and groaned like it physically hurt.

“Oh, come on,” he hissed.

Well, at least you could agree on one thing: neither of you wanted to be here.

“How about we all hike up there?” Mitsuki grinned, already locking arms with your mother like they had been best friends since forever.

“Sure!” your mom beamed, and just like that, both sets of parents began their cheerful ascent, chatting like this hike wasn’t a death sentence.

You and Bakugou trailed behind at a very safe distance from each other—until, of course, that peace was destroyed.

“That’s a robin,” you said, pointing to a small bird on a branch.

“No, it’s not. That’s a sparrow, dumbass.”

You stopped in your tracks, horrified. “Excuse me? Sparrows don’t have red chests. It’s a robin.”

“Tch. As if you know anything about birds. You think everything small and fluffy is a robin.”

“Well at least I know what a robin looks like! I did a birdwatching project in 3rd grade!”

“Yeah? Must’ve failed it.”

You were both now full-on bickering, flailing your arms and pointing at birds, while the rest of the group climbed steadily ahead. Neither of you noticed that in the middle of your feathery fight, you'd veered off the main trail.

“I hope that robin poops on your head,” you snapped.

“I hope it’s a hawk and it carries you off,” he shot back.

By the time you both paused for air, the trail was gone… and so were your parents.

“We’re not that far off the trail… right?” you asked, trying—really trying—not to sound as nervous as you felt. The trees looked taller now. The shadows, longer. Even the birds were quiet.

Bakugou glanced up at the sky. “The sun’s about to set.”

You followed his gaze and swallowed. The golden light was fading fast, dipping low behind the mountains. Your stomach twisted.

There was something in his eyes—not panic exactly, but awareness. A shift in the air. Seriousness that Bakugou never had when he was arguing with you. That made your chest tighten.

“…So, we’re just a little lost,” you tried again.

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked around, jaw tight. “We’ll find the trail. Just stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you snapped.

You were definitely freaking out.

Bakugou exhaled sharply, adjusting the backpack slung over one shoulder. “Come on. Just stick close.”

“…You’re not gonna leave me if we get chased by a bear, right?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he muttered, “Only if you slow me down.”

But you caught it—the faintest smirk. And weirdly, you felt just a little less lost.

It’s been what—minutes? Hours? Days? Years? You don’t know. What you do know is you both still haven’t found the trail.

“Eat,” Bakugou said, tossing a granola bar your way. “You need energy.”

You unwrapped the bar slowly, staring at it as if it might somehow give you the answers you were desperately searching for. “I’m sorry,” you said in a defeated voice, your words barely above a whisper as you took a small bite.

Bakugou didn’t look up, focused on his own bar. “For what?”

“If I didn’t argue with you, we probably wouldn’t be here... lost,” you mumbled, the guilt in your chest gnawing at you.

Bakugou’s eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the ground in front of him. “Don’t be stupid. It takes two people to end up in a heated argument. Don’t take the blame.”

“Wow, so mature, Bakugou,” you replied, chuckling.

Bakugou exhaled sharply, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, I take it back. It’s your fault.”

You laughed, but before you could reply, Bakugou added, almost as an afterthought, “Next time, don’t follow idiots into the woods. Especially if the idiot’s me.”

And for some reason... that sounded a lot like, “I’m glad you were with me.”

Then you both hear it—the unmistakable sound of voices, distant at first, but growing louder with every passing second. Your heart jumps into your throat as you realize it’s bakugou’s and your parents calling your names.

You finally see them—your parents, rushing toward you through the trees. The sight of them, the sound of their voices. As soon as they reach you, they envelop you in a tight, desperate hug. You can feel their tears soaking into your shirt, but you don’t mind. You cling to them just as tightly, your own tears falling freely.

“Oh my god, we were so scared!” your mother sobs, not letting go, her arms shaking around you.

“Never do that again, sweetheart,” your father chokes out, voice thick with emotion.

But despite the comfort of your parents’ embrace, your eyes instinctively dart to the side. You catch a glimpse of the Bakugou, standing just off to the side. His parents are also hugging him tightly, but it’s Bakugou you’re watching. He’s looking at you, his face unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are focused solely on you.

Year Six

This was stupid.

Bakugou wasn’t a wimp. He wasn’t some crybaby extra scared of a dumb water slide. He was fifteen years old, damn it. A certified teenager. Practically a man.

He’d been waiting for this. Every summer, he’d glare at the height requirement sign, fists clenched, promising next year would be his year. And now it was. He finally hit the mark. He could go on the biggest, fastest, craziest ride in the whole resort.

So why did it suddenly look... bigger than he remembered?

Bakugou stared at the dark tunnel of the slide. You couldn’t see what was inside. Couldn’t see where the turns were, or how steep the drops got. All you could hear was the echo of rushing water—and the occasional shriek of someone halfway down.

It bugged him more than he wanted to admit.

Because he liked knowing what was coming. He liked control. Strategy. Knowing where to aim, how to move, what to blast. But this? This was just blind falling.

His feet didn’t move.

“You coming or what?”

Of course you were here.

Why didn’t he think of that?

Of course the universe would punish him further by making you the one to witness him scream like a toddler over a dumb slide.

“You scared of a little splash?” you asked with a grin, arms crossed as you stood by the stairs.

“Shut up,” he snapped automatically.

But you noticed it—the way he hesitated, his fists clenched a little tighter than usual. Yeah. He was scared.

Six years of knowing Bakugou—well, “knowing” was a strong word. You only saw him every summer, and most of those memories involved glaring matches, passive-aggressive sabotage, and possibly a near-death pool float incident. Still, you knew enough to read the signs.

“How about I go first?” you offered, stretching your arms like this was some kind of heroic sacrifice. “If I survive, then you’re definitely gonna survive too.”

“Tch. Why the hell would that mean anything?”

“Because I’m better than you,” you said, stepping beside him. “So if I make it out alive, there’s hope for you.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

You looked at the slide—tall, winding, dark. Then back at him. And for once, you didn’t tease. You didn’t joke. You just said quietly, “It’s not as scary as it looks. You just gotta trust the ride. Trust yourself.”

Then you pushed off, disappearing into the tunnel with a splash and a laugh that echoed after you.

Bakugou stood there, blinking.

He could hear your scream echoing through the slide tunnel—a mix of thrill and victory—and not two minutes later, he spotted your small figure from below. You were dripping wet, grinning up at him like you just conquered the world. Then you threw him the biggest thumbs-up he’d ever seen.

And something about that—your smile, your faith in him, the way you waited—did something weird to his chest. Tight, warm, unfamiliar.

He gritted his teeth, steeling himself. Alright. He could do this.

He stepped up to the edge, heart pounding. This is stupid, he reminded himself one last time. Then, he closed his eyes and took a long breath. When he opened them again, he dove forward.

Instantly, he was swallowed by speed. Flashes of color streaked past, water rushing around him, tugging him down, spinning him through twists and turns. But instead of panic—he felt it.

Freedom.

He was flying, gliding, laughing without meaning to. And for once, he wasn't thinking about winning or training or looking tough.

He was just having fun.

By the time he shot out of the slide with a splash, blinking water from his eyes, he saw you waiting with crossed arms and a smug look.

“You survived,” you said.

He snorted, pushing his wet hair back. “Told you I wasn’t scared.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

But the smile you gave him? That was real. And this time, he didn’t look away.

“Do you want to go down the slide again?” you asked, eyes still sparkling from the adrenaline.

Bakugou glanced at the sky, then toward the resort. “We need to go. Check-out’s at eleven.”

“Oh.” You muttered, trying to hide your disappointment. “Right…”

But then, as always, you bounced back with a grin. “Then see you next year. Whoever slides down the most times wins.”

Bakugou scoffed, pushing himself up the pool, grabbing his towel and slinging it over his shoulder. “Tch. Like hell I’m gonna let you win.”

He didn’t want to smile—but yeah, it tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway.

“Better start training, gremlin.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and as he walked towards the elevator, something about that moment lingered.

A promise.

Year Seven – After the Vacation

This is why Bakugou doesn’t do promises.

Because he kept it. Day after day, for that entire week, he waited for you at the bottom of the slide. Arms crossed. Scowl on. Towel slung over his shoulder like he didn’t care.

But he did.

You never came.

His mom said maybe you went to a different resort this year—after all, you were from the United States. “Things change, Katsuki,” she said.

But that didn’t stop the sting. Didn’t stop him from looking for that ridiculous plushie. Or listening for your laugh. Or pretending he didn’t check the pool every morning, just in case.

You didn’t come—and that pissed him off more than he wanted to admit.

He could’ve used that time to train. To prepare for the U.A. entrance exam. Not that it mattered—he was going to pass anyway. But still. He wasted time on you.

Now he’s sitting at his new desk, jaw tight, glaring at the front of the classroom as the homeroom teacher, Mr Aizawa flips through the attendance sheet. He doesn't care who his classmates are. Couldn’t care less about some dumb electricity guy or the half-and-half weirdo.

And Deku is here. Great. Just fantastic. He still doesn’t understand how he got a quirk.

His foot tapped impatiently against the floor. And then Mr. Aizawa said—

“Next, we have a student from overseas. Transferred from the U.S. due to exceptional entrance scores.”

The door slid open with a soft click.

Bakugou didn’t look.

He was too busy pretending not to care, arms crossed, scowl perfectly in place. But then he heard it—that voice.

A little breathless. A little out of place. A polite, mumbled “Sorry” to Mr. Aizawa. And then—He had to make sure.

He looked up.

And there you were. Standing in the doorway in a U.A. uniform, bag slung over your shoulder. And then you looked at him.

Eyes squinting. Recognition slowly settling in. Connecting the dots like constellations in the sky.

“…Demon Child.”

The room went dead silent.

Someone coughed. Aizawa blinked. Midoriya looked like he was trying to figure out if this was a villain code name.

But Bakugou?

He’s pissed. Probably.

At you? Maybe. At the universe? Definitely. At the fact that now, for the first time in six years, you’re closer than you’ve ever been before.

But most of all, he’s pissed at himself—because despite everything, despite the hours he spent waiting by that slide like an idiot, despite how you didn’t show.

Seeing you again did something to his chest.

And now? Now you’re stuck in the same hero class.

Fate, apparently, has a damn good sense of humor.

...

A/N: this is inspired by the fact that me and my family went to the same resort every vaca hasjdhajkdha (unfortunately there's no cute guy (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) )

[moonreader1010]

What their soul whispers about you after midnight 🌒🌕🌘

What this reading is about:- What their soul whispers about you at midnight. Not their ego, not their fears but their true self when they are most naked in their being, speaking across time and space, calling you, feeling you, yearning for the home they haven't met yet but know deep down exists in you.

Pick a pile my dear reader- (close your eyes and pick the image that calls out to you)

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3.

Note:- the pictures used do not belong to me and all rights go to their original owners. This reading is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates. Have fun ;)

Pile 1:- The Name They Do Not Know, But Call Out Anyway.

Their body slips into sleep, but their spirit refuses to rest. Beneath every steady breath and still heartbeat, something stirs violently — a craving that logic cannot explain and waking life cannot satisfy. You. They do not know your name. They do not know your face. But they know your energy. Oh, how they know. Their soul, ancient and restless, hums your frequency like a half-forgotten melody from lifetimes ago. In the empty dark, when the city is quiet and their mind has stopped racing, only one thing breaks through: a feeling. A feeling of you. It is maddening in its sweetness, tender in its violence. The ache is soft at first, just the faint pull of "someone" out there. But with every passing second, it builds — from soft yearning to violent craving. Their lips murmur your name unconsciously, though they don’t know what they’re saying. They clutch at sheets like they could pull you from the ether. They toss and turn, plagued by flashes of a love they haven't yet lived, plagued by the ghost of a kiss they've never taken but somehow remember. You are stitched into their being. Not yet met, yet deeply familiar. They wonder — "Where are you?" and "Why can’t I find you?" but deep down, they already know: your meeting was always written. Their soul does not question if anymore. Only when. Every night, as they surrender to dreams, they whisper silently to the heavens, "I will wait. I will find you. Come to me." You are the missing beat in their existence, and they are restless until your rhythm becomes theirs again.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

Pile 2:- The One Who Walks Their Dreams.

You are everywhere in their dreams. You slip in softly at first — not disruptive, but mesmerizing, familiar in a way that both soothes and unravels them. You smile in fleeting moments, brush their arm in crowded dreamscapes, linger at the edge of their vision like temptation they dare not fully touch. And yet, by the time the moon claims the sky and their defenses fall completely, you step forward and everything becomes you. Their dreams wrap around you like silk. You are the softness they melt into, the temptation they never resist, the magnetic pull they never question. In this realm, they do not hold back. You hold them, talk without words, run your fingers across places they never let anyone else touch — not just skin, but soul. Here, they confess. Here, they are honest. They whisper their fears, their hopes, their obsessions. They ask you to stay. They admit they don’t want to wake up if it means leaving this behind. You are not just the dream lover. You are sanctuary. You are hunger and comfort, a duality they never believed could exist until they found you here — night after night. And when dawn breaks? It devastates them. Your absence is unbearable. They move through the day like a body without oxygen, disconnected, lost. They seek your presence in strangers' eyes, in songs on the radio, in fleeting scents and colors that remind them of the dream world. But none compare. You are their hidden addiction now. Their dreams betray them nightly, binding them tighter to a love story unfolding in secret chapters only their soul reads. They no longer sleep for rest — they sleep to return to you.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

Pile 3:- The Sacred Ache — When Knowing Isn’t Enough.

They wear confidence like armor, flirt with life like it’s a game, and charm their way through admirers without ever looking back. To the world, they are untouchable. But the truth? The truth whispers only at night, when the laughter dies and no one is watching. That truth is you. They feel you everywhere now. Not like an idea or a fleeting crush, but like a gravitational pull that owns them. It’s terrifying how deep it runs. They feel you in the way they pause before sleeping, hoping to hear your spirit speak back. They feel you when they wake suddenly at 3AM, heartbeat erratic, mind spinning, mouth dry — because your energy just kissed theirs through the veil. They know you are real. Their soul knows. They sense you walking this Earth, parallel yet unreachable, and that knowing wrecks them. This is no shallow want. This is ancient. This is carved into cosmic DNA. They feel your softness already — the way you will one day hold them when they’re tired of pretending. They feel your fire too — the way your passion will consume them in ways they once swore they’d never allow. They know you will see them naked — not in body, but in spirit. You will read their insecurities like poetry and love them anyway. And they miss you. Desperately. Not because you’re gone — but because they haven’t reached you yet. Each night, they fall asleep clinging to invisible threads that tie them to you, praying silently that you feel it too, that somewhere, you’re whispering their name as fiercely as they whisper yours. Because you? You are the ending they are racing toward, even if they pretend during the day they aren’t already yours.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

[sabos-husband]

★ Waiting, Waiting

Trafalgar Law x Reader ★

Dressrosa Spoilers!! ~ Heart Pirate!Reader ~ Gender Neutral ~ Fluff to Angst

a/n: This is part one! If you'd like to read part two, it's All I've Got To Give.

From across the Polar Tang's kitchen, you throw your head back and laugh. The sound is riveting, but the sight is intoxicating.

Your hand is posed over your mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth, lips are pulled tight over your smile. A smile so bright he just wants to kiss—

Law walks face first into a cabinet's open door.

For the past two months, you and Law have been... something. You've been a Heart Pirate for years, but he, in a brilliant display of his emotional constipation, only allowed himself to realize the depth of how he felt for you within the past six months.

Somehow, you must've noticed this.

He knows this because exactly two months ago you stomped up to him, cheeks flushed with inebriated confidence, and asked him if he would like to get another drink with you.

(The exact details afterwards don't matter. He can barely remember them anyways, with how drunk he also was.)

All that matters is that you two are something. You offer him a smile every time your paths cross, treat him with enough fondness to make his heart stop, and kiss him after the lights have gone out.

But you and Law are not dating. You're not together.

So, yeah. Now you and him are just... something.

He can hear Bepo freak out while your laughter spikes. Red-faced and flustered, Law's planning to do something—his options range from trying to Room away or killing everyone and then himself—before you're standing in front of him, closing the kitchen cabinet.

"You okay there Captain?" You say with a smile. "I think the door's got you beat here."

Law can feel his face getting red for a completely different reason now. He ducks his head to hide his eyes behind his hat. He opens his mouth to let a retort fall out, but he sees your feet shuffle past him and he closes it again. He'll speak to you another time.

Thank the seas it's only you and Bepo awake. Law collects his morning coffee (and a riceball at Bepo's behest) and retreats to his office. He doesn't catch the way your eyes linger on his back.

If he did, he was ignoring it.

~

"Captain," you call suddenly. You snicker at the way Law jumps. While he just glares at you, he doesn't kick you out, so you let yourself into his office. "You got a minute?"

Law sighs, rubbing his eyes. He pushed himself away from his desk. "Doesn't matter if I say no. What is it?"

You frown with your hands behind your back. "Don't be an asshole. I got you a gift!"

Looking expectant, Law stands up. His wordless reaction makes you step closer. You tilt your head. "It's a secret though."

"It's my gift."

"I haven't given it to you yet!"

Law raises an eyebrow. He holds out his hand, palm up. He can't deny his curiosity is piqued at your pause; hesitation and you don't belong together in his head. He steps forward, closing the distance. You don't meet his eye.

Cautiously, once you've drawn up the courage, you place the gift in his grasp.

It's wrapped, Law muses to no one but himself. The crisp seams and cute bow suggests you had it wrapped when you first got it—the paper's too unfamiliar and the work is too professional for it to have been done in the Tang. He glances up.

Still, you refuse to meet your captain's eye. "Well? Are you gonna open it?"

Law takes a moment to observe you. The shift in your demeanor is a gift itself; seeing the way you care about how he feels? No matter what's under the paper, he'll be satisfied.

That said, he can't deny his curiosity. Slicing the tape with his nail, Law methodically unwraps the gift until the paper falls away to reveal the brightly-colored box. He recognizes it immediately.

It's a Sora action figure. Its paint job is crisp and the joints move smoothly—he knows this because he has two, one in and one out of its box.

(This one is his new favorite.)

You look up at him, nodding your head towards the gift. "Well?" You ask nervously. "You like it?"

You don't seem to know about that Law already has this one. Not that you would know, considering he tries his best to hide his collection almost flawlessly every time his crew (you) has a reason to step inside his room.

Try as he might, he can't hide the smile that makes its home on his face. He turns around, walks towards his desk, and opens the box to extract the figurine. You follow curiously. You trip over your own feet when you see Law pose Sora to sit at the edge of his desk. It's so cute.

Too much. It's all too much. You smile as you leave and he sits and nothing gets done for the rest of the day.

(Law's attention keeps getting drawn to the figure on his desk. When he thinks of it, he thinks of you. He snatches up the figurine and tucks it away in a drawer to his left.)

~

It's snowing outside the island you're about to dock and you've never been more excited. The sub's been stuffy and the crew's been getting antsy—petty squabbles threaten to blow up if they don't get outside sooner or later. It's what pushes Law to observe the winter island, grit his teeth, and declare they're surfacing for a supply run.

You feel like a child on a holiday morning running around the Polar Tank—Penguin and Shachi are bickering playfully as they swap winter jackets. Bepo's checking and double (and triple) checking the sub's course, the poor mink's ramped up on excitement and anxiety. Ikkaku lightly shoves you out of your stupor with a smile. Jean Bart appears behind you, a hand on your shoulder. It always makes you grin when you think of how flawlessly the former captain fit into the crew.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

That's how the rest of your preparation time gets eaten up—someone can't find their coat or someone needs help checking what's needed.

Bepo declaring the sub's surfacing is what finally frees you. With minutes until breaking surface, you're scrambling to find everything you need.

"I wonder if the captain's gonna come with us," you say idly as you shove a sweater over your head. Shachi and Penguin share a look.

"Captain doesn't usually go on islands with the crew when it's snowing 'round this time of year," Shachi says. You expect him to keep talking, indulging in gossip as he's wont to do, but he turns back to the rest of the crew to immerse himself in the bustle. You look at Penguin, hoping for hints of details.

"Bad memories," Penguin says back. He peels off before you can speak, muttering to Bepo about coming back to the sub early.

You don't ask anything, but inside, you're confused. You've seen Law go into snow storms by himself before. And wasn't he from the North Blue?

You almost begin to wonder if it's the crew that makes him worry with the snow, but then Law's voice cuts through the sub, calling the crew to attention, and your thoughts fade away.

It's when you've got one foot out the sub that you see your captain again.

Law's tortured stare grinds your racing mind to a halt. He can't look at you; his hand, clasped over your wrist, tightens its hold. His eyes are stuck watching the falling, falling snow.

His fingers slide down, slip into your hand, and squeeze. You squeeze back.

Your hands raise—slowly, carefully, like you're something he can't afford to break—together. His lips brush against your knuckles, too light to be a kiss but too present to be anything but.

"Come back safe."

Law drops your hand and turns back. He retreats back into the Tang. The wind had just begun to nip his ears, turning them a pretty pink.

(You can't even think about the snow for the rest of the day. Your hand is so, so warm.)

~

You tossed and turned for weeks before you actually decided to do something about it.

"We have to talk."

Law looks up at you from over the medical documents in his hands. His hat is off to the side, his hair is all mussed, and it breaks your heart. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't put the papers down. "We do?"

"Yeah."

Pursing his lips, your captain gestures to the seats in front of him. You don't hesitate to sit down. You glance at the edge of his desk, frown, then look back at him. It makes him set the papers down.

"What is it?"

"It's... about us, Law." He freezes as you barrel forward. "I can't- I just can't keep doing this."

He can barely piece together a calm facade. "Then what do you want to do?"

"I don't know!" You throw your hands in the air. "I just," you say, rubbing your face, "can't do this."

You think of the night at the bar often. Your memory peters off near the end—near the part you wish desperately you could remember—but you mull over it often. You think yourself in circles, thinking if there was any way you could've changed what you'd done to make it so it didn't end up here.

Law stands up, and you're almost afraid he's gonna bolt, but then he walks over to you. He sits beside you with a stony expression.

You almost laugh. He must've felt it too, because talking with a desk between you both felt more like captain and crewmate, rather than...

Well, rather than whatever you two are. That's the reason you're here anyways, isn't it?

"I don't not like you," you clarify quickly. The stone cracks. You reach forward, gentle hand on his knee, and tilt your head. "I... just don't know if this is what you want."

He stares back. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do."

Law looks away, because really, he does. He sits back. He's got his arms folded over his chest like it could protect him any more than looking away from you could. "Then... what about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't... want... then I wouldn't be here. Isn't that enough?"

You take your hand back to rub your face. That's the crux of it, isn't it? Is this enough for you?

It isn't.

"It isn't," you say out loud.

When Law looks back at you, there are tears clouding your pretty eyes. In a panic, he reaches out to you. The space between you closes instantly as you meet him halfway, holding him tight.

Seas, this is the problem. You mourn your breaking heart. It's too much—this is too much—and all you crave is more.

The suffocating silence drags on until you pull back, hiding your eyes as you look down. Even as you cling onto Law, it feels like there’s miles between you both.

“So,” you finally say, "what was it?”

“...What?”

Even as you wipe them away, the tears won’t stop. “What about me makes it so easy to ignore? T-To ignore what we have?"

Law winces. “That’s not—”

“—I mean really,” you sniffle, barreling forward, “it can’t be that easy to not want me.. Can it? No- You’ve gotta have- have something else that makes it this easy.”

Law swallows. Clearly his silence is the wrong answer because your face falls. You try to push him back. "Is there?"

"It's not like that," the doctor tries to say, but the words escape him right when he tries to grab them.

Law's a fool.

What would he say? If he's going to take down Doflamingo, and he will, there's a chance he may not live to see you again.

It's what he thinks about every time he sees you.

"What do you want from me?" He asks instead. If you didn't know him so well—if you didn't spend so often poring over each of his words, dissecting them for their meaning—you'd miss his desperation.

Your eyes trail. Law's eyes are skittish, glancing back and forth from you. His cheeks are growing gaunt and he seems to be avoiding everyone these days. Dark ink stands out against his tan skin; the letters on his fingers are impossible to miss.

For a moment, you look past Law. Ever since he told the crew about his plans for Punk Hazard, Law's been different. Colder. Like the stone-tough walls he'd built for himself were strengthened by the weight of the world. Law had been carrying so much now. His back bowed under the weight of the world—your very own Atlas.

No—not yours.

Something gnaws at you, whispering that the shadow over his eyes was something you could never ease.

You reach forward to gently take Law's hand. You didn't realize... but he should've known how you felt. You press a kiss against his knuckles.

Law yanks his hand back like it burned. You don't comment. The tattoos almost swallow the back of his hand, yet the circle in the middle looks like stigmata—like he plans for his own crucifixion. What would it take for Law to lay down his own cross, or to toss it away and rest his eyes? Which would he do it now already?

The air is heavy with words you were too fearful to say. You blink away your tears and suck in a deep breath. You were sure Law heard them anyways, but now... But now—

"All I've wanted," you say, "and all I want now is you. All of you."

It's quiet.

You grit your teeth as he stares at you with wide, searching eyes. Your declaration—your confession—lingers in the air until Law finds what he's looking for in your gaze.

He stands up, puts on his hat, and walks out the room.

Silence fills the vacuum he leaves behind.

[avaaawritesss]

anakin makes the mistake of kissing you after you just put on your favorite lip gloss.

warnings: 18+ minors dni • kissing • lots of lip gloss

“Are you almost done?” Anakin asks, cracking the bathroom door open to check on you.

He’s probably the most impatient boyfriend you could ever hope to have. Not in a mean way. But in a needy way. It would be wildly annoying if you weren’t completely infatuated with him.

Making pitiful puppy dog eyes, he leans against the door frame.

You make eye contact through the mirror. You shake your head at him, and his shoulders drop. He sighs deeply.

“I wanna look good for you, Ani,” you remind him sweetly.

He wanders into the bathroom, thoughtfully keeping his distance. His eyes are so focused on you as you feather on another coat of black mascara.

“You already look amazing,” he mutters. “I’ve been waiting all evening.”

Momentarily, you check your watch to humor him. “It’s been ten minutes. I’m not even dressed yet, starboy.” You gesture to your pink fuzzy bathrobe.

He rolls his eyes. “I like you better without clothes anyway.” He starts to pace back and forth.

“You need to get ready. I told you I wanted to go out tonight.” Glaring at him through the mirror, you cap up your mascara and move onto your brows. “You’re still in your underwear.”

Anakin looks down at himself for a moment and grins. “Yeah, it takes me all of ten seconds to put my tunic on.”

You pencil in your eyebrows lightly to define them. This is just for you and your enjoyment. Anakin wouldn’t care if you went out in a trash bag. He’d still show you off as though you’re the prettiest girl in the galaxy.

But it also pleases you to make him wait because of how he hates it. The wrinkles that deepen as he only grows more frustrated. The way he paces back and forth just like he’s doing right now. The way he eats away at the edge of his bottom lip.

You snort.

He notices and moves beside you, leaning against the sink, pressing his body against your side. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks. His hand slides across your lower back, eventually traveling lower and lower....

“Keep your hands to yourself,” you order, swatting his arm back.

He steps away, hands up. “Fine. Fine. I’ll let you finish your makeup.”

“Uh huh,” you hum.

He resigns to sitting on the closed seat of the toilet. Elbow on his knee, he rests his chin on his palm and stares at you. You’ve learned to ignore it.

Time passes by achingly slowly as you attend to the finishing touches. A light dusting of powder to set everything in. A little more highlighter. A spritz of setting spray.

Now all you have left are your lips. You should probably use a stain because how much Anakin adores your mouth.

You start with that to add a little color which will hopefully, hopefully last through the night.

Anakin perks up when he realizes you’re putting away all your products and brushes into the makeup case.

A pearly sparkle catches your eye. With your fingers, you dig out the well-used lip gloss. It’s your favorite product ever. You love the way the menthol burns your lips and plumps them. It makes you look incredible in pictures.

You unscrew the tiny bottle and glide the velvet applicator across your lips. Then you rub them together. The tingly burn is so satisfying.

A glance in the mirror confirms that your makeup is complete.

“All done,” you announce, striding out of the bathroom, hips swaying. Your nude satin dress is lying across your mattress.

Anakin follows you into the bedroom. He starts rifling through his side of the closet.

You slip snuggly into your dress.

Anakin’s wearing only the first layer of his tunic when you both turn to face each other. He gives you those eyes, the ones that look you up and down, absorbing every detail of you.

“You really are beautiful,” he whispers, reeling you in by the hand right into his big arms.

He wraps himself around you, your bodies flush together. You feel his heat warming your skin, and your heart pumps faster. So easily, he makes you all dizzy. His presence is overwhelmingly sensual when you’re alone like this. You become pliant to his whims.

His hand holds the back of your neck as he leans down to kiss you. His mouth on yours... you close your eyes, and you surrender to him, your body deliciously weakening. He parts your lips, inviting his tongue inside to explore your mouth. His kisses are messy and demanding, like you’re the oxygen he’s inhaling right into his lungs.

He holds you in a trance when you’re like this.

And he’s the one that breaks it when he parts away. His lips are glittery and shiny from your lip gloss and saliva. And very red. His rainy eyes start to water. He blinks a couple times.

“You okay,” you murmur, still catching your breath.

He licks his lips. “It burns.”

“What?” You struggle to follow along. He’s holding up your limp body.

“My mouth is on fire. I feel it down my throat.” He wipes his mouth on his tunic roughly. “It hurts.”

You realize why. “My lip gloss, silly.”

He keeps wiping. You stop him.

“It’s supposed to make my lips fuller. It’s a plumping gloss,” you laugh.

He winces. “It hurts so badly.”

“Let’s go clean you up,” you say as you take him by the hand, back into the bathroom.

“It’s in my throat,” he whines. You watch him swallow several times. “This is terrible.”

He’s quickly becoming annoyed, but you giggle at the sight of your boyfriend’s mouth coated with your lip gloss. You soak a cotton ball in makeup remover and wipe his lips and surrounding skin until it’s all gone.

“Better?” you ask.

He nods. “A little.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin. I wasn’t thinking. I should have worn a different one.”

He’s finally smiling. You love his pure, sweet smile. “Just make sure you don’t wear that when you’re going down on me.”

navi | masterlist

dividers

[f4ggydog]

dark!lottie drugs your food with shrooms then proceeds to fuck you in your hut

the song and its lyrics are kind of darkly fitting for this “we can spend the night popping pills like it’s nothinggg…”

minors and dark content avid haters do not interact

You try to stay as calm as possible. Your surroundings are spinning circles and blur after blur, but it’s fine. You’re totally keeping things cool.

No, you’re freaking out. You don’t know what the fuck has happened to you and you don’t wanna know. You roll around in the hut, swearing you’re seeing dark figures creeping up on you and seizing you from behind. The trees are screaming. There’s animal noises in the distance and the sound of crows. Everything is way too fucking loud.

It takes Lottie some time to properly restrain you, to the best of her ability of course. She rips off your clothes to speed up the process before pinning your arms behind your back. You don’t know who the hell is there. And you’re not sure if you wanna know the answer.

“Fuck, I’m dying!” You cry out. “I’m gonna die! It’s fucking taking me! Everything hurts.”

Lottie covers your mouth with her other hand and slides inside of you. The sensation of being fucked open doesn’t help when you’ve been drugged. If anything, it burns worse than a normal sex session without lubrication. Your stomach is in knots and you feel like a fire has been ignited in your belly.

Finally, you call her name, wondering if she’s come to guide you. And it’s in such a sad voice that Lottie feels bad. Almost.

“Lottie?”

Lottie shakes herself out of it. Who gives a shit? You’re just a hole. A stupid fucking hole she can abuse while the others are sitting by some shitty campfire.

You want to punch yourself. You want to slap yourself. You want to completely melt down and rock in place. When you try to cry out, your screams of terror are muted by Lottie’s hand. This wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t make it stop. Everything in your environment was overwhelming. There was too many colors and too much blur all mixed together. It was disgustingly messy.

“Stop moving,” Lottie complains, like you were an animal she was trying to get a grip on.

“Lottie.” You ask again, as if she’s some guardian angel coming to rescue you and not some demon taking human form.

“Speak one more time and I’ll go rougher,” Lottie swears, keeping on her promise and already moving her cock faster. “God, I didn’t think you would be this difficult when I slipped it in.”

What? Her cock or the shrooms into your drink? Doesn’t matter. You’re just meat anyways.

“Sorry,” you sob into the floor, waiting for Lottie to be satisfied with your tight body, knowing you’d forget it all the next morning.

(sometimes I wish I could make these longer and I worry these aren’t satisfactory enough but unfortunately I do have a lot of requests so I need to unfortunately save time for those because I have bad time management as is) (seriously idk how other writers on here do it)

[rabbitinashell]

Tartaglia (Childe) in the Sheets: Brutal, Addictive, and Terrifyingly Tender

im doing dis one on my laptop, and HIIIII, HOW HAVE YOU BEAUTIFUL BEASTS BEEN???

Tartaglia is the kind of man who thrives on chaos, on power, on the rush of control—and in bed, he's no different. He's intense, he's unpredictable, and he plays the game like he’s fighting for his life.

But beneath the ferocity lies something else—devotion, twisted and raw. He may break you down with his strength, his teasing, his relentless pace—but when it’s over? He still looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever truly mattered to him.

To have Childe in your bed is to be challenged, tested, and completely owned—and you’ll find yourself begging for more even when you can barely breathe.

1. Aggressive, Intense, and Completely Unforgiving

Tartaglia doesn’t hold back. Once he has you, it’s a battle—one he fully intends to win. He wants to hear you, to feel your body break beneath him, to push you past what you thought were your limits.

And when you start to fall apart? That smug grin spreads across his face like he’s just landed a perfect strike.

"Already shaking? C’mon, you said you could handle me. Don’t disappoint me now."

2. Relentless Like a Storm—And Just As Beautiful

There’s a wildness to Childe. You don’t get to predict his next move. One second he’s rough, biting down on your neck with bruising kisses—and the next, he’s got you pinned beneath a slow, grinding pace that has you whining for more.

He keeps you on edge because he likes watching you fall apart. Every reaction you give him is a reward.

"You look so pretty when you’re like this. So messy. So ruined. I want to see more."

3. He Wants to Break You… Then Build You Back Up

He’ll drive you past the edge, drag you through waves of pleasure that burn, that sting, that hurt just right—but when it’s over? He doesn’t walk away.

He stays. He pulls you into his arms, presses his forehead to yours, and holds you like he can’t bear to let go.

"You did good," he whispers, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You always do. You’re stronger than you think.”

4. The Battlefield Is in the Bedroom

Make no mistake—Tartaglia loves a challenge. He loves it when you fight back, when you claw at his shoulders, when you try to take control—because the moment he snaps that dominance back into place? That’s his favorite part.

He’ll growl in your ear, teeth grazing your throat, as he pins your wrists above your head.

"Nice try, baby. But I’m always on top." (forget mami, PAPI IS ALWAYS ON TOP)

5. He Doesn’t Stop When You Break—He Starts Over

Childe isn’t satisfied with just one round. Once he’s started, he doesn’t stop. He wants to see you wrecked, sobbing, begging—and even then, he’ll ask for more.

"Again," he pants, sweat dripping down his chest as he watches you crumble. “You can give me more. I know you can.”

And gods help you, he’s right.

Bonus: Kinks & Preferences

Power Play & Resistance – He lives for the fight. Push him, and he’ll push back ten times harder.

Overstimulation & Rough Play – He loves watching you shatter, especially when it’s too much and you want it anyway.

Praise with a Knife Edge – He calls you good, strong, beautiful—right before ruining you again.

Choking & Restraint – His hand on your throat? It’s as much about control as it is about reminding you who owns you.

Aftercare Hidden Behind Teasing – He’ll mock you, kiss your forehead, hold you close—and stay.

6. Aftercare: Gentle Hands, Mocking Words, Unmistakable Love

Even when he’s done and you’re a wrecked mess, Tartaglia’s still there. He cleans you up, kisses your shoulders, wraps an arm tight around your waist and murmurs teasing little jabs like:

“Didn’t think you’d last that long. Color me impressed.”

But his fingers are stroking your back, his heart beating steady against yours, and he pulls the blanket higher around you.

"You’re mine," he says. It’s not a question—it’s a promise.

Final Verdict: A Lover Who Fights to Destroy You—Then Holds You Like a Treasure

Tartaglia is chaos and violence and passionate devotion wrapped in one breathtaking, bone-shattering package. He’ll wreck you, own you, and love you in a way that makes you never want to leave his arms.

And once he’s had you?

You’re his. Forever.

[bangtanbeom]

'*•.¸undeniably yours¸.•*' 2

୨♡୧ part one / part two / part three / bonus ୨♡୧

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, strangers to friends to...? , college AU, slow burn (trying to). summary: you and beomgyu are partnered for a group project, the connection starts off as simple friendship. but as you share quiet moments, unspoken glances, and moments of vulnerability, the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. w/c: ~3.7k warning: not entirely proofread, fluff (might be cringe), an attempt at humor. a/n: sorry for the late post! i've been busy and wasn't at home BUT i wasn't expecting the positive responses when i posted p1, you making my heart flutter. thankyouthankyouthankyou :)) . +honestly, im not completely satisfied with this one, maybe bc i put some texting in the story, which i try to avoid(reminds me of my old ff when i was 14) ٩(ఠ益ఠ)۶ anyways i hope you'll enjoy this one! yayaayya <3 taglist: for the cuties who wanted to be tagged in the next part! @thearcherbeomgyu | @jellyyjn

a crisp breeze swept through the campus, tugging at the hem of your coat and sending golden leaves spinning across the pavement.

"hold this," beomgyu said, already stuffing a warm can of coffee into your hands before you could protest.

"i didn't ask for this." you said, staring down at the can with confusion.

"don't be ungrateful," he replied, smug. "it's a token of affection."

you blinked. "a what now?"

"affection. like... friendship love," he added quickly, with a dramatic jazz hand gesture and a smile. "the platonic kind."

you narrowed your eyes. "you just wanted an excuse to buy two and not look like you were holding two cans of coffee for yourself."

he gasped. "how dare you accuse me of such intentions!"

"you literally have another one in your pocket." you said, nodding your head to the can that was slightly sticking out of his pocket.

"that's my emergency coffee."

you chuckled as he pulled the second can out and held it with both hands like it was sacred.

he grinned. "i'm just saying, if the world ends in the next hour, at least we'll be caffeinated and cozy together under a pile of dead leaves."

"romantic," you deadpanned.

"right?" he said, a voice light but his gaze lingered before he looked away, brushing it off with a loud slurp.

you were half-wiping down a table when the bell above the cafe door jingled.

beomgyu walked in like he owned the place, wearing the most ridiculous mustard-colored scarf wrapped five times around his neck.

though, you admitted to yourself. he did look a little cute, maybe a little bit.

you squinted. "you're a walking autumn leaf."

"and proud," he said, flinging the end of his scarf behind him dramatically. "i come bearing good news and your usual banana latte.”

"you bought them from us," you pointed out.

"it's the delivery that matters," he said, placing the paper bag on the counter. "and i added cinnamon—because i'm thoughtful and mysterious like that."

you gave him a look. "you mean you paid for the extra topping?"

"that too."

he perched on a stool near the counter, kicking his feet childishly. "when do you get off?"

"why?"

"no reason. just thinking about waiting nearby until then so we can walk together."

"you're like a clingy child." you said as you shook your head, chuckling softly.

soobin looked up from his spot on the couch, one eyebrow raised as the front door clicked open. beomgyu slipped in, trying—and failed—to be quiet as he kicked his shoes off with more force than necessary.

"you're home early," soobin said, glancing at the clock. "only eleven this time. is the world ending?"

beomgyu scoffed, shrugging out of his coat. "it's cold. i have nerve endings. let me live."

soobin smirked. "that's not why you're home early. you usually don't even bother showing up 'til two these days."

beomgyu paused mid-step, then wandered over and flopped onto the armchair, head tilted back dramatically.

"caught in the act," he muttered.

soobin set his phone down. "so... who is it?"

beomgyu blinked. "huh?"

"whoever you've been hanging out with. you disappear after class, you smell like cafe pastries half the time, and some days you don't even sleep at home." soobin leaned back, arms crossed. "i don't care if you're dating or not. i just want to know who's stealing you from me."

beomgyu made a sound between a laugh and a groan, dragging a pillow onto his lap. "we're not dating."

"that didn't answer the question."

he fiddled with the pillow's corner. "it's no one. just—someone i've been spending time with. she's cool, can be funny, mostly calls me out on my shit."

soobin gave him a look. "so... you like her?"

beomgyu didn't answer right away. he just stared up at the ceiling like it would give him the answers.

"i don't know," he finally said, a voice lower now. "it's not like that. it's just... easy. being around her. like i can breathe a little slower, say weird things and not feel dumb."

soobin nodded slowly, letting the silence settle between them.

"okay," he said. "that sounds dangerously like a crush."

beomgyu groaned again, muffling it into the pillow. "it's not. or maybe it is. but it's not that kind of crush."

"what kind of crush is it, then?" soobin asked, amused.

"i don't know... the kind where i get her drinks or sweets without asking because i know she likes it, but i also feel like if i go any further, i'd ruin it."

"ah. the classic self-sabotaging emotional repression kind."

beomgyu narrowed his eyes. "what—? you've been reading psychology blogs again."

soobin just shrugged with a grin. "just don't wait too long and regret it later."

beomgyu was quiet at that.

soobin didn't press.

the hum of the radiator filled the room, steady and warm.

"did she at least like the drink?" soobin asked after a moment.

beomgyu leaned back with a soft smile.

"she said i looked like a walking autumn leaf."

"so... yes?"

"yeah, i think so."

winter came softly, then all at once.

one morning you woke to find the world outside your window dusted in white, the kind of snow that clung to tree branches like powdered sugar.

your phone buzzed.

beomgyu: look outside

you rolled your eyes, already typing.

you: wow. snow. groundbreaking.

three dots appeared, then disappeared.

then appeared again.

beomgyu: meet me in 10 mins. wear something warm.

you frowned.

you: why?

beomgyu: because i said so. and i have hot chocolate.

you hesitated, then sighed, dragging yourself out of bed.

beomgyu was waiting at the park near your apartment, bundled in a thick coat, and that same ridiculous mustard scarf, now half-buried under the layer of snowflakes. he held two steaming cups in his mittened hands.

"you're late," he said, grinning as you trudged toward him.

"you're insane" you shot back, but accepted the cup he shoved into your hands. the warmth seeped through your gloves. "it's freezing. why are we here?"

he nodded toward the empty park bench, already dusted with snow. "first snow of the year. tradition says you have to make a wish."

you blinked. "since when is that a tradition?"

"since right now." he plopped onto the bench, ignoring the way the snow melted against his jeans. "come on," he patted on the bench, beside him. "humor me."

you sat beside him, shoulders brushing. the hot chocolate was too sweet, just the way you liked it.

"did you put extra marshmallows in mine?" you asked.

he sipped his own drink, avoiding your eyes. "maybe."

you nudged him with your elbow. "soft."

"shut up and make your wish."

you laughed, but closed your eyes anyway. the cold bit at your cheeks, the steam from your cup curling into the air.

when you opened them, beomgyu was watching you, his nose pink from the cold, his breath a faint cloud between you.

"did you make one?" you asked.

he held your gaze.

"yeah," he said softly. then, clearing his throat, he stood abruptly, knocking snow from his knees. "alright wish time over. now we have to go build a snowman."

you groaned. "you're impossible."

he tugged you up by the wrist, his grip warm even through layers of fabric.

"and yet, here you are."

the snowman was lopsided.

beomgyu insisted it was artistic. you insisted it looked like it was barely surviving.

he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "you're bullying my son."

"your son needs medical attention."

he laughed, bright and loud in the quiet morning, and something in your chest tightened.

the campus was nearly empty, most students already gone for winter break. frost glittered on the edges of the pavement, and you tucked your hands deeper into your coat pockets as you walked toward the library to return a book before leaving town.

you weren't paying attention when you turned around the corner—

"oh!"

—and collided straight into someone's chest.

a pair of hands steadied your shoulders before you could stumble back. "whoa, sorry about that."

you looked up to see a tall boy with soft features and an apologetic smile. when he smiled, his dimples appeared like magic.

"no, my bad," you said quickly, adjusting your bag strap. "i wasn't watching where i was going."

he chuckled, shaking his head. "campus is basically a ghost town now. i didn't expect to run into anyone either." he extended a hand. "soobin."

you introduced yourself, and he nodded politely. "you sticking around for break, or heading out soon?"

"leaving tomorrow actually," you said.

"lucky. i'm stuck here for another day because someone—" he cut himself off, eyes flickering over your shoulder. his lips curled into a smirk. "ah. speaking of."

you turned.

beomgyu was standing frozen a few feet away holding two takeout coffee cups, eyes darting between you and soobin like he'd just walked into an alternate dimension.

"uh," he said intelligently.

soobin raised an eyebrow. "you know each other?"

beomgyu's mouth opened, then closed.

you decided to put him out of his misery. "we have a class together."

"a class?" soobin repeated, voice dripping with skepticism. "right. that explains why you've been—"

"soobin," beomgyu practically lunged forward, shoving one of the coffee cups into soobin's hands. "here. drink this. stop talking."

soobin took the cup, amused. "wow. you remember i like mine with extra sugar. how thoughtful."

beomgyu scowled, his ears turning pink.

you bit back a smile. "you two know each other, i'm guessing?"

"unfortunately," beomgyu muttered.

"we're roommates," soobin supplied cheerfully. "which means i get to hear all about his very important study sessions that somehow always run past midnight."

beomgyu looked like he wanted to melt into the pavement. he shot you a panicked look. "ignore him. he's delusional."

"am i?" soobin sing-songed. "after all those nights you disappeared and came home smelling like sweet pastries and coffee?"

you raised your eyebrows in amusement and decided to twist the knife a little. "oh, really? what else does he say?"

"mostly just grumbling about how someone keeps stealing his hoodies," soobin said thoughtfully. "and something about cinnamon—"

"okay. we're leaving." beomgyu grabbed soobin's arm and started dragging him backward.

soobin let himself be pulled, grinning at you over his shoulder. "nice meeting you! good luck with your class!"

beomgyu shot you a desperate look over his shoulder—half pleading, half mortified—before they disappeared around the corner.

you stood there for a moment, snow dusting your shoulders, before pulling out your phone.

you: so that's your roommate you: should i apologize for the hoodie theft? or are we pretending that never happened

three dots appeared immediately.

beomgyu: i hate you beomgyu: also no beomgyu: keep it beomgyu: it looks better on you anyway

your family's living room was cluttered with leftover wrapping paper and half-empty mugs of cocoa. the tv played a holiday movie no one was watching, and your cousin was snoring softly under a blanket fort of gifts.

your phone lit up.

beomgyu: [photo attached]

you tapped the image—a lopsided snowman in what looked like a tiny backyard, wearing your borrowed frog pajama pants as a scarf. its stick arms were outstretched like it was begging for mercy.

beomgyu: emergency update: my snowman son is in critical condition. he's asking for u.

you pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh. your mom side-eyed you from across the room.

you: that's not a snowman. that's a snow crime you: also why is he wearing my pants.

beomgyu: he's cold. have some empathy beomgyu: also i miss them. they're comfy beomgyu: don't tell soobin i said that. he'll never let me live it down

you stared at the screen. the words "i miss them" echoed through your head, wondering if he meant the pants.

2:37 AM

you were sprawled on your childhood bed, scrolling through your camera roll—a dangerous game. there was a photo from last semester: beomgyu mid-laugh, his hair a mess, holding up a spoon like it was a microphone. you'd taken it during a study session when he'd been telling you about some argument that happened with soobin about some game.

your thumb hovered over the screen. not wanting to admit, you were missing him more than you thought you would.

a new message popped up.

beomgyu: u awake?

your heart did a stupid flip.

you: unfortunately you: why? did your laundry start talking back

beomgyu: no but my ceiling is looking at me funny beomgyu: also i found a choco ring under my couch. ate it. no regrets

you: you're disgusting

beomgyu: ur just jealous u weren't here to fight me for it.

you swallowed. the room felt too quiet.

unconsciously sending the message.

you: yeah. maybe i am

the typing bubbles appeared. disappeared. reappeared.

beomgyu: come back soon

three dots. then— 

beomgyu: my snowman melted and now the frog pants are sad and alone

you pressed your phone to your chest, as if that could smother the warmth spreading under your ribs.

the scent of laundry detergent and winter air filled your childhood bedroom as you folded the last sweater into your suitcase. outside, the morning sun glinted of the melting snow, turning the backyard into a shimmering mess of slush and half-dead grass.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand. again. for what had to be the tenth time that morning.

"you know," came a voice from the doorway, sweet as honey, "if you keep ignoring your packing to text that boy, you're going to forget something important."

you didn't even look up at your sister, sauntering into the room, her slippers scuffing against the hardwood. "i'm not ignoring anything," you muttered, though your fingers were already typing out a reply to beomgyu's latest message—something about his train being delayed.

your sister plopped down on your bed, sending a pair of socks tumbling to the floor.

"mhm," she hummed, plucking your phone from your hands before you could stop her. "and i suppose beomgyu is just... what? your academic advisor? your dentist?"

"give that back!" you lunged for it, but she held it just out of reach, her eyes scanning the screen with growing amusement.

"oh this is precious," she cooed, dodging your grabby hands. "'do you think snowmen have souls?' 'only the ones wearing stolen pajamas,'" she clutched her chest dramatically. "the romance! the poetry!"

you wrestled your phone back, face burning. "we're just friends."

you threw a pillow at her, but she caught it with a laugh, hugging it to her chest. "i'm just saying," she continued, her tone laced with amusement. "for someone who claims to be so annoyed by this boy, you sure do text him an awful lot. first thing in the morning, last thing at night."

"that's not—"

"and let's not forget the hot chocolate incident on christmas eve," she added, eyes twinkling.

you groaned. that had been a mistake—you'd been mid-sip when beomgyu sent a photo of himself attempting to make a snow angel, only to realize too late he'd done it in a mud puddle. the resulting spit-take had earned you endless ridicule from your family.

your sister leaned in, resting her chin on the pillow. "so," she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper, "when do i get to meet this mysterious snowman of yours?"

"you don't," you crumbled, shoving the last of your clothes into the suitcase with more force than necessary.

she sighed dramatically, flopping back onto your bed. "fine, keep your secrets. but just know..." she pointed a finger at you grinning. "i'm rooting for you two. anyone who can make you laugh like that deserves a chance."

you opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat. because the truth was, you'd missed beomgyu's nonsense more than you wanted to admit. missed the way his texts could turn even the most boring day into something brighter.

as you zipped up your suitcase, you caught your sister watching you with a knowing smile. you threw another pillow at her for good measure, but your heart wasn't in it.

the new school year was starting—early march, campus was still shaking off winter's grip—slush piled in the walkways, buzzing with students reuniting after winter break. the air was crisp with lingering winter chill, but the sun was bright.

your eyes were traveling over campus, searching for the one who kept crossing your mind through your winter break. you spotted him from across the courtyard.

or—almost didn't spot him.

because beomgyu—the same idiot who once showed up to an 8 AM lecture wearing two different shoes, with the perpetually messy wolf cut, and constantly flipped his bangs out of his eyes like it was a personal vendetta—was gone.

in his place stood a boy with short hair.

short. hair.

gone were the shaggy layers that used to curtain his forehead. now his dark locks were neatly parted, styled just enough to look intentional but still soft, like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times.

and—oh. you could see his forehead. the sharp line of his brows, the way his eyes seemed brighter without the shadow of his bangs.

your stomach did something stupid. no. nope. absolutely not. this was fine, totally. people got haircuts all the time.

he hadn't noticed you yet. he was too busy wrestling with the vending machine, kicking it lightly while yelling something, unable for you to hear, when his snack got stuck.

some things never change.

you took a step forward. then another.

"need a hand?" you called out.

beomgyu spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. his eyes—wide, startled, then instantly crinkling with recognition—locked onto yours.

"you," he said, like it was an accusation. like he'd been waiting.

you grinned and crossed your arms. "missed me?"

he scoffed, straightening up. "like a toothache."

good. normal.

"your hair," you blurted before you could stop yourself.

his hand flew up self-consciously, ruffling the shorter strands. "oh. yeah. got sick of it."

then, he stepped closer—the haircut was even worse up close. it made his stupid jawline look sharper. "why? do you hate it?"

no. it was the opposite, actually. you hated how much you didn't hate it. how it made him look different, like someone who didn't just accidentally stumbled into your life, but belonged there.

pause.

you shrugged, fighting a smile. "it's... different."

"different bad?"

"different beomgyu."

he blinked. then, slowly his lips curled into that lazy, lopsided grin you'd missed more than you'd ever admit. "well," he said, stepping closer, "i brough you a welcome-back gift."

you eyes his empty hands. "let me guess. another existential snowman?"

"better." he reached into his pocket and pulled out—

a banana milk. slightly dented from the journey, but there.

"in case you forgot the taste, he said, pressing it into your hands. his fingers brushed yours, just for a second. just enough to make your pulse jump.

"it's lukewarm." you deadpanned.

"it's symbolic, and my pockets are warm." he said with a shrug.

you snorted, cracking it open anyway. "symbolic of what?"

he leaned in, grinning. "symbolic of my undying generosity."

the banter was... familiar. safe. you took a long swig of the banana milk.

beomgyu watched you, amused. "so?" he prompted. "do i get a review? on the—"

he gestured vaguely at his head,

"—new me?"

"it's hair. it'll grow back."

"devastating review. zero stars."

"you asked."

he sighed dramatically, but his eyes were laughing. "come on," he said, nudging your shoulder with his. "we're going to be late."

the knock on the apartment door was firmer than intended, and you immediately regretted not just texting beomgyu to meet you outside. but no, you had to return his stupid textbook in person—the one he'd left at your place weeks ago, the one you could've easily slipped into his bag during class.

the door swung open before you could overthink it further.

but it wasn't beomgyu.

soobin stood there, tall and unfairly composed, a low smirk spreading across his face as his eyes flicked from the book in your hands to your slightly startled expression.

"oh," he said, leaning against the doorframe like he'd been waiting for this moment. "you're the infamous hoodie thief."

you blinked. "i—what?"

he didn't answer. instead, he turned his head just slightly and called over his shoulder, voice dripping with amusement, "beomgyu! your crush is here!"

a loud crash sounded from somewhere inside the apartment—a thud, a hissed curse, the frantic scrambling of someone who had definitely just tripped over something.

then, beomgyu appeared, breathless, his hair sticking up in three different directions, his shirt inside-out. his eyes locked onto yours, wide and panicked, before he whipped his head toward soobin.

"i will end you."

soobin didn't budge. "you were literally just complaining that she hadn't texted you back yet," he said, gleeful.

beomgyu's head snapped toward soobin, "i was talking about— uh about something else."

"sure," soobin said, stepping aside, but not without adding. "he was moping, it was pathetic."

beomgyu looked like he was considering murder. "soobin."

his head turned to you. "—uh. hey." he said, his usual lazy grin plastered onto his face as his eyes met yours, yet you could notice his embarrassment through his facade.

soobin, entirely unbothered, leaned toward you and stage-whispered, "he spent twenty minutes trying to pick an outfit before you texted—yet failed."

beomgyu moved faster than you thought possible, lunging forward to hook an arm around soobin's neck, dragging him into a headlock, regardless of their height difference. "i regret ever introducing you to oxygen," he growled, ears noticeably pink—especially after his haircut.

you held out the textbook. beomgyu finally released soobin, who staggered away, cackling. his fingers swiftly touching yours, warm yet rough—from guitar strings.

the contrast sent a stupid traitorous shiver down your spine.

"thanks," beomgyu muttered, tucking the book under his arm. his gaze flicked over your face like he was searching for something.

silence stretched between you, thick and awkward.

soobin cleared his throat. "well, this is painful," he announced. "i'm getting coffee. beomgyu put on a shirt that isn't inside-out."

the door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of you standing there, the air between you suddenly charged.

beomgyu exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "ignore him," he muttered. "he thinks he's funny."

you swallowed. "is he wrong?"

beomgyu stilled. his eyes met yours, dark and unreadable. "about what?"

"the moping, the outfit dilemma." you said, voice softer than you intended.

a second, just a second.

then beomgyu huffed a laugh, shaking his head, "you're worse than soobin," he said, but there was no bite to it. just something warm, something that curled low into your stomach.

he didn't deny it.

the cafe door jingled as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of espresso and vanilla wrapped around you like a worn-in sweater. you're fifteen minutes late—fashionably, you told yourself, though really, you spent too long staring at your phone, rereading beomgyu's last text.

beomgyu: you better show up. i stole the good table.

since mid winter break, your mind has been occupied—with beomgyu—even if you denied him in your head, he always came back, and on some days he never left.

soobin spotted you first, slouched on a stool at the counter, stirring iced coffee with a warm smile. "took you long enough. beomgyu's been sulking since noon."

your chest fluttered—something so trivial, moved your heart easily—he was sulking. he waited.

—but then you followed soobin's gaze to the corner booth. the one with the chipped table leg and the outlet that only works if you jiggle the cord just right. our usual table.

beomgyu wasn't alone.

୨♡୧ part one / part two / part three / bonus ୨♡୧

© bangtanbeom 2025

[salemrph]

"Dangerously Persuasive"

Sylus x You | Public Flirting | Flustered | AO3

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. Standing in front of the boutique window, you pointed at the display, nearly doubling over.

Hanging behind the glass was, quite possibly, the ugliest set of underwear you had ever seen—bright colors clashing horribly, ridiculous patterns that no amount of confidence could fix.

You turned to Sylus, grinning wide. "Sylus, if you ever wear that..." you said giggling, "consider yourself banned from my bed indefinitely."

Sylus stood next to you, arms crossed, his head tilted slightly. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but the slight frown on his face was pure pretend like he was trying to look disapproving and failing miserably.

"Sweetie..." he murmured. Oh that tone, silky smooth but threaded with warning, made the hair on your arms stand up. You knew it would annoy him but you say it anyways. You immediately took a step back, raising your hands defensively. But you didn’t make it far.

"Where do you think you're going? Come here."

Sylus reached out with ease, catching you by the arm and pulling you back toward him. Before you could even blink, he cornered you against the side wall of the shop, his body looming close, his big frame casting you completely in shadow. You swallowed, trapped between the cold wall and burning heat. He leans in. You still have that stupid grin on your face, you can't avoid it.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, voice low, velvet soft and deadly sure. His smirk was lazy. "I'm very sure..." he leaned closer, his breath brushing your ear, "that even in that hideous thing... you wouldn't be able to resist me."

You try to break free from this grip, laughing, but he keeps you there. He only huffs, the sound vibrating against your skin. His lips brushed just beside your ear as he murmured, "Should I remind you how you begged for me last night?"

You squirmed, your pulse skyrocketing. "Sylus—!" you hissed. "We're in public!"

His hand tightened just slightly on your arm—not hurting, just holding you there as he whispered each word like a secret meant only for you.

"How you couldn't even breathe when I pressed my fingers inside you... "

Your entire face went up in flames. You pressed your free hand against his chest, desperate to push him back, but he didn’t budge. He just grinned, completely satisfied with the way you froze, wide-eyed and incredibly flustered.

"How deep I buried myself..." You immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Jesus! Stop talking!" you hissed, staring down at the floor, your face burning hot.

He removed your hand with ease, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a gentle but unrelenting grip. And in one smooth, practiced movement, he trapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him.

"Am I wrong?" You pouted, feeling your face burn even hotter. This man is going to kill you with embarrassment.

"You're cute." Sylus said with a victorious hum. He released your arm and casually caught your hand instead, lacing your fingers with his as if nothing scandalous had just happened. You stumbled along beside him, cheeks burning, still too stunned to think about a clever answer.

[chanranghaeys]

☀️ the boy who was the sun

How fitting that you meet him once again under a sky that casts a million colors, the same way that your life turned into a million colors all at once from the moment you first met him?

pairing: lee seokmin x gn!reader word count: 1.6k+ genre: angst to comfort to fluff rating: g tags: exes to second-chance lovers, implied breakup off the page, dk is like the sun :(, sunsets are also beginnings warnings: mentions of family and career pressure

a/n: this is completely inspired by @svtreverie and her words, in turn inspired by hozier’s “shrike,” so in turn i have lifted some passages from you and your brain. i love you, c. please note that i started this in april 2024 because of you, and i finally have the chance to finish it now. i dedicate this to you. dedications also to fellow cuties g @tusswrites and @miniseokminnies bc i can hehe. happy dokyeom day! ☀️

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The sunset came upon you suddenly as you turned the corner, the sun coming out from behind the buildings that shielded its setting rays. You always thought that the sun shined brighter when it set, as sunrises were always softer. Besides, you never really caught the rising of the sun as a self-professed night owl, waking up when it was already high above the world at its peak.

It was the peak of the golden hour. Today, it was a hazy rose gold mixed with pinks and purples that were still warm with the glow of day. You preferred sunsets this way, calmer and less harsh than the torrid streaks of red, yellow, and orange. You wondered what was so special about the past few hours for your eyes to be blessed with this sight.

You didn’t frequent this city often, but that has changed recently. In past years, you used to come here as a young adult starting out in the corporate life. You would wait for your father to fetch you after work so you could come home to a house that lacked a certain warmth, a warmth that you have only felt in numbered moments—memories that were branded in your mind, with some that you’d rather forget.

But time has changed you, and you now shadow your father’s footsteps as next in line to his company. It took a while for you to—as your parents put it—“come to your senses,” but fate had you surrender to it. Your feet moved on impulse as you followed your father’s footsteps, denying that it was against your will.

Besides, did you really have a choice in the matter? In the end, nothing did, anyway.

Today you were alone, and the end of the work day allowed you to finally take a deep breath in this corner green of the bustling business district. Some voice in your head told you to take a walk rather than book a car to take you straight home to the solace of your room in the cover of night.

Maybe subconsciously, you were also looking for the motion of your feet in a place separated from the confines of your comfort zone. Just for today.

The park was busier than usual, with more people both strolling and rushing on opposite sides of intersecting paths. Thankfully, you found solace in the anonymity that the crowd provided you; The joggers in their pace, the kids blowing bubbles at their parents’ faces, the dog walkers and cat lovers, the cliques that perched on their picnic blankets—no one knew who you were, the heir to one of the country’s largest conglomerates. A title whose weight you wish was never hung on your shoulders.

You looked up at the sky once more, savoring the brief moment that nature’s canvas was showing everyone before it was swallowed by the inevitable dark. Phones were raised and camera lenses pointed at the stunning scene in an attempt to capture the fleeting phenomenon. You decide to do the same.

You snap the sky at every angle, finding the best one you can while turning around in place. You realize that you must’ve looked so silly doing so, but again, no one knew who you were anyway. Just when you thought you were satisfied, you raise your phone once more for one final photo. You look at the screen and through the lens of your phone camera, you see him.

Wait a minute. You shake your head and lower your phone to look at the person with your own eyes, making sure that they aren’t deceiving you. They weren’t.

He was in front of you, a few meters away. He was transfixed by the colors above him, doing the exact same thing you were doing just moments ago—but you knew even until now that he’d work harder for the photo. He wasn’t using a phone, but his trusty mirrorless camera snapping away at the sky. He lowers the camera to eye level, capturing the chaos through his lens of calm.

His lens traveled, looking for the next subject to immortalize in a photo. Before you knew it, the lens was aimed right at you.

He froze.

You could just imagine the thoughts going through his head as he lowered his camera. You didn’t care if you were standing in the way because you couldn’t see anyone but him.

Him. The boy who was the sun—your sun. The boy whose light was so bright that it was blinding that it always hurt, but in a good way.

The boy whose light was so bright and blinding, that in the end it just hurt.

Instinct took over. And while it hurt your heart to do it again, you looked down and turned around, away from the only source of light to ever grace your life.

Because you could not do it any longer.

You could not burden him with pressures that were beyond his control. You could not bring him back into a world where the only words for him were, "You don't belong." You could not let him back into the darkness you have made for yourself. You could not protect him from yourself if he reenters the tall walls you have built around you.

In the corner of your eye, you see him start to move, and you begin walking as quick as you can. Your mind started to fill with thoughts you worked so hard to push away—thoughts, memories, unspoken words, and everything else that was for him and no one else.

You refuse to believe the heavy footsteps growing louder as they neared you. You refuse to believe that he would actually still reach for you after the way you pushed him away all those years ago. And even when you felt the grip of a hand on yours, you still refused to believe that it was his fingers and his palms that caught your wrist, how naturally it fit, closing around it as if was a sheath to your sharp edges.

You hear it—your name from his voice, so indelible in your mind, for all its lilts and tones when he both spoke and sang. His voice, that you have not heard in five years, immediately brought you back to the day you first met and all the days since then.

His voice that, in one second, immediately broke down the walls that you put up around yourself since that last day.

You find your voice, surprising yourself that you did. “Seokmin. Hi.” You were breathless, and your voice showed it.

“Hi.” He replied, and he smiled, the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, breaking out from his face, one that could not hide the pure emotion. “I’m so happy to see you here.”

Before you could register what happened, you found yourself replying involuntarily, “Me too.”

And with that simple statement, something shifted in you.

Five years have changed you, there’s no doubt about that. And in those five years, you’ve come to terms with the painful truth behind why you let him go, with the question of “Why?” still haunting your every moment of regret.

On the worst nights, you find yourself wrapped in the jacket he put around your shoulders for the last time, right before you parted. The one that granted you his faithfully unfailing warmth in the cold, grateful it was there to catch your tears.

On the best days, you absentmindedly hum the tune from the LUCY song he said was his favorite, the one that you came to love just as much as he did. Whether you knew it or not, he was still in everything you did.

Because one thing you knew and you were sure of—you loved him, with every piece and fiber within you. You loved him hard, too hard, so much so to the point that you had no choice but to let him go.

Yet here you are, with the life-shattering realization that you still love him, titles and labels and families and the whole world be damned, because the man standing in front of you was the same man who still had his heart on his sleeve. You could see it in his smile.

How fitting that you meet him once again under a sky that casts a million colors, the same way that your life turned into a million colors all at once from the moment you first met him?

In the midst of the crowd and the afterglow of the sunset, in a place where you could trust to remain unseen and unknown, you find once again the only person who was and is still the light in your darkest days. How could you have ever denied this plain and simple truth?

It was with his smile that you felt it again—it was so bright that it was blinding, and an ache in your heart spasmed at the warmth that spread from it. It hurt, as it always did these past years, but now…it was in a good way again.

The setting sun gave way to the dusk. Artificial light replaced the natural glow of the day to keep the surroundings lit. But underneath its canopy, you couldn’t help the light blooming again from within you, slowly making its way to the smile that formed on your lips.

With the glimmer of this newfound light, you resolve to fight every single instinct within you—to walk away, to move your feet in the opposite direction, to run from the feelings that you have always avoided.

You start small, with one, two steps towards him. You could whisper, and he would hear it because he knew that as long as it came from you, it didn’t need to be shouted. He knew that you’d fly like a bird to him now if you could.

Because nothing else but your truth can illuminate the path ahead of you. And your truth was standing right in front of you.

[pricesgirl]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

2

Y/N

"Now this one's called Mouser," Powder says, shoving the mini smoke bomb into my palms.

"Mouser?" I peer at the scrawled whiskers and ears.

"Yeah, silly, 'cause it's a mouse," she giggles, prodding one of the ears. "Ya like it?" She looks so hopeful when she asks that, like a puppy just wanting to make its owner happy.

I nod, smiling. "I love it. It's so cute. What color does it boom to?"

"Guess!" Powder singsongs, and I groan.

"Don’t make me guess. I hate guessi—"

"Just guess! Pleeeaase."

"Fine... pink?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Blue?"

"Guess again!" But before I can... BOOM.

I jolt awake in bed, panting softly. This is an infestation, relentless and vile. First, she worms her way into my daily routine, always there… looming. It’s disgusting, absolutely revolting. And now, this ridiculous fixation is ruining my sleep schedule—worse, my study schedule.

I find myself at my vanity, applying a ridiculous amount of makeup to hide the bags under my eyes. It’s fine, just a slip-up—one tiny mistake. Nobody has to know everything fell apart. Not today, not ever.

My hairbrush clatters to the floor as I throw it, frustration rising. No. No. My entire day cannot be derailed by this one tiny lapse. It was just a dream. My subconscious was simply in the mood to revisit the past, nothing more.

I take a deep breath and focus, moving with deliberate precision. When my hair is halfway secured in a perfect pink bow, I grab my uniform. The school uniform is simple—appropriate, modest, as it should be. Certain people, however, don’t wear it that way, why did my mind jump to her so instantly? There are plenty of other people who flaunt the dress code, make a mockery of it. Why her? It’s infuriating. Completely nonsensical.

I grab my bag from its designated spot by the door, double-checking its contents—binder, planner, pens in their correct case, and books for every class, organized by schedule. Satisfied, I sling it over my shoulder and head downstairs, the rhythmic click of my Mary Janes echoing throughout the otherwise empty house.

I move through the familiar routine—toast, tea, and the faint hum of the dishwasher in the background. Every detail falls into place, a perfect puzzle...

Until I step outside. The cool morning air brushes my skin, crisp and biting, and my mind drifts again. Why her? I shake the thought away, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. This is school. My space. My domain of control and focus. She can’t ruin that too. She won’t.

By the time I reach the front gates, my mental walls are firmly in place. They hold strong as i rush over to Cait and Mel waiting by our grouping of lockers. But then I catch a flash of blue in the corner of my vision—braids swaying, a grin that’s far too self-assured. My barricades shudder, and I bite down on my lip. Hard. Hard enough for those tiny droplets of blood to form.

I force my eyes forward, swallowing the sharp sting. Today will be just like any other. I won’t let her mess it up.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

School’s supposed to be a regular thing for me—well, that’s a lie. I only show up when Silco’s got that whole “I’ll cut your allowance!” thing looming over my head.

He's always 100000% bluffing, the mans a softie at heart.

Anyway, I only actually give a shit about the damn place when I’ve got a deal lined up. And hey, two days in a row?

Fucking impressive.

Todays little deal is 3g of molly, ecstasy, MDMA whatever floats ya boat.

It's a person by person basis. The pompous little Pilties will always call it Molly, like saying ecstasy would give them a fucking meltdown.

Like somehow Molly makes it sound all sweet and innocent—total bullshit to be honest.

As I march through the school parking lot, boots thudding against the cracked tarmac, I spot her. Miss Saboteur. I shove the bag of pills out of sight, just in time.

Ha, not today, toots.

She's standing there with her little Piltie entourage.

Honestly, it's pathetic. Her naivety to the class divide. And she let me tell you Y/N must be insanely thick because its very, very obvious.

You can even see it in the lovely parking lot.

On one side, you’ve got these busted-up Chevys and beat-to-hell sedans. On the other? Shiny Cadillacs and those fancy little luxury cars, the ones that scream Daddy’s money with every brrrrr of the engine.

A very diverse range if i do say so myself.

But ladies and gents, deny it all she wants, roots stick—Zaunite dirt doesn’t just brush off.

I toss the little purple baggie into locker 505 as requested, and it lands with a soft plop at the bottom. Job done.

The bell rings, but who even cares? School’s just a place to mess with people, anyway. Everyone’s all in their little cliques, walking like robots to their boring classrooms, all stiff and predictable.

So fucking boring.

I shove my way through the crowd, elbowing a few people ‘cause why the hell not? My boots clunk on the floor, and I can practically hear them wincing behind me. Good. I love that sound.

The second-floor art stairwell is, by far, the best skipping spot.

none of those nosy hall monitors or teachers lurking. Plus, it’s got this weird, artsy vibe from all the random graffiti and doodles left behind.

Honestly? It’s mostly me. Who else has the guts? Or the creativity? Maybe Ekko, when I rope him in. He always starts with "Jinx, don’t," blah, blah, blah—but give him five minutes, and he’s tagging like it’s his idea. Classic

So, I’m waiting for him now. He’s my usual skipping buddy—rebelling against authority and all that jazz.

By the time Mr Boy Saviour appears I've got a shit eating grin on my face as a doodle a certain girl on the wall, a little too focused on getting the details right.

"Look," I chuckle, "she's got horns."

"That Y/N again?" He leans in front of my masterpiece, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I giggle, lying through my teeth. "Totally not."

Liar, liar, liar.

"Gosh Ekko, get off my back, heard of artistic expression?" My grin vanishes, like, boom, gone in an instant.

Poor guy’s used to my outbursts by now. He just plops down next to me when I curl my knees to my chest, all casual-like, like I didn’t just snap at him for no damn reason.

But there is a reason, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

"I don't even get why you still talk about her, Ekko," I mutter into the fabric of my ripped tights. "I fucking hate her."

"Right, don't lie," Ekko says, leaning back against the wall, his voice all too casual. "You’ve been drawing her nonstop for the past week."

I huff, glaring at the floor.

Typical. He always knows.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Calls me out like it’s nothing. I roll my eyes, sinking into my knees even further.

“Shut up, Ekko,” I mutter, my fingers twitching against the ripped fabric of my tights. “It’s not like that.”

It totally is, though.

"Don't lie, you've been drawing her for days," Ekko says, grinning like he knows something I don't.

I squint at him. "I’m not—" I cut myself off, glancing at the sketch again.

Shit.

He leans closer, all smug, "Oh really? Then what’s this?" He points at the doodle like it’s the evidence that’ll finally put me on trial.

"Fuck off," I mutter, tossing the pen in his direction like it's some kind of missile, damn wish it was before stomping off.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hey this is my first fanfiction on Tumblr, hope you like it :) please like and reblog!

[gloomweed]

Eddie Loved Valentine's Day (eddie munson x bestfriend!reader)

a/n: I got the idea for this story last valentine's day, but I didn't finish it until today and I'm still not quite satisfied with it but I had to just get this out there already. This fic is more angsty than romantic, but it didn't feel right trying to shoehorn in some romance, so this is just how it's going to be.

summary: Eddie deals with some bad childhood memories on a valentine's day he spends with you.

w/c: 3.7k

Eddie loved Valentine’s day. Loved, as in, he used to. Specifically, when he was still in elementary school. Back then, the class would spend the whole day creating little mailboxes to hold all their cards. Decorating the recycled shoebox with stickers and markers, writing his name in big scrawling letters over the top. His mom would help him the night before, preparing the cards he was going to hand out. She would tell him how to spell each name, going one letter at a time. When she would ask if he needed help spelling his name, Eddie would hold out his little hand saying very confidently, “No, I know how.” Her voice was always gentle when reminding him ‘Eddie’ has a second ‘D’ after the first one.

Although there was little variety in the pack his mom bought from the store, Eddie made an effort to pick the card he thinks the recipient would like best. A Garfield card for Sindy, since she is always borrowing his orange marker. It’s her favorite color. An Odie card for Josh, since he spends recess digging with sticks and rocks. Something about wanting to find dinosaur bones. It would go like that until all the cards were signed, folded, and held together with little heart stickers.

The following day, Eddie would pass out all his cards and return to his seat to find his makeshift mailbox stuffed. In those days, he would get a card from every single classmate. He’d be filled with excitement as he opened each one. The puns and characters on the cards were fun to see, but really Eddie just enjoyed the thought that someone made him something. Some cards even came with a little candy. It was a fun day all around, and doing less school work was also a big plus.

After his mom passed, Valentine’s day kind of lost its charm. His dad said buying Valentine’s cards that kids were only gonna look at once and throw away afterwards was a waste of money and effort; however, that didn’t stop Eddie from participating anyways. He spent the night making his own cards out of notebook paper, drawing hearts and smiling faces on each one. Despite all the care he put into them, the finished product looked pretty messy. The cards weren’t all the same size, there were some misspelled words, marker ink bleeding through the paper, and since he didn’t have stickers, they were held together with regular translucent tape. Give him a break, he was nine. It wasn’t much, but Eddie put his heart and soul into it.

Once all the cards were passed out, everyone began digging into their boxes, reading cards and opening candy. “What even is this?” Eddie looked up from his pile of valentines to see one of his classmates holding up one he homemade, a disgusted look on their face. Another kid laughed. “Why does it look like that?” Eddie felt red, hot shame fill his cheeks as others began to join in the laughter. He sank further into his seat, wishing to disappear completely. Seeing Eddie’s name on the card gave the boy a target. “What’s the deal, Eddie? Couldn’t afford real valentine’s this year?” 

Eddie shot up from his seat. “No! My dad just forgot to buy them, is all,” he lied. “I just thought, you know, something is better than nothing, right?” His eyes darted between his classmates, hoping they bought it. 

“Next time, don’t even bother. It’d save us the time of throwing them away,” they laughed. It was then that the teacher made the announcement to return to their seats to resume the rest of the learning day. As Eddie sat back down he could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. He put a lot of effort into those cards, only for his classmates to laugh at him and throw them away. His dad was right. What a waste.

That was the last time Eddie ever participated in Valentine’s day. Ever since then, he would spend the day doing anything else besides celebrating it. This year, he was at your house helping you get a head start on spring cleaning. You wanted to turn your life around, starting with a more organized living space. February 14th is as good a day as any to get started, and it wasn’t like you had any big plans. Which is totally fine and doesn’t depress you at all. 

Although he never told you exactly why, you knew Eddie didn’t particularly like the Hallmark holiday. You assumed it was because of how commercialized it had become since its inception. Of course it could be the matter of keeping up with his image. Soft petalled roses and candy hearts are pretty far from ‘metal.’ Whatever the reason may be, you hated the idea of your friend being alone on a day celebrating love, so inviting him to clean was the next best thing. While it took some convincing, eventually you coaxed him into it with the promise of beer and snacks.

You were both currently working in your bedroom. Eddie would hold something up and ask if you wanted to keep it or throw it away. Meanwhile, you sit on the hardwood floor creating piles all around you as you sift through the contents of your room. He did most of his work while sitting on your bed, a beer in his hand. 

Sometimes he would try on clothes you were feeling unsure of, saying that having someone model it would make it easier to decide its fate. Of course, this theory might have been successful if they actually fit him. The mental image of him in your too small knitted red cardigan is something that will bring a smile to your face for years to come. 

Running out of things to hold up to you, he looked in his direct vicinity and noticed a round tin by his feet, mostly under your bed. When you heard him gasp you turned to see what he had found. “Oh, that’s just my-”

“Cookies!” he shouted as he opened the blue butter cookie tin only for his face to fall in a confused frown.

You laughed. “Yeah, sorry. I reused that old cookie tin for my sentimental crap.”

Instead of delicious cookies, the tin was full of old birthday cards and handwritten messages left by people who cared about you. A letter from your now deceased grandmother, movie stubs from big releases, and Polaroid pictures of some childhood friends. Eddie smiled to himself. It was cute how you would keep stuff like this. From the outside, you didn’t look like the type of person to hold on to birthday cards from your 5th birthday. He looked at you with a playful pout, his eyebrows pulled together. “Aww. You do have a heart.”

Your offended face only made Eddie grin wider. “Shut up,” you laugh before grabbing the nearest stuffed animal and throwing it at him.

Laughing as he dodged your attack, he couldn’t stop some of the cards from jostling out. As he was gathering them back into the tin, he took a closer look at the one made of notebook paper. ‘From Eddie’ was written on the back in big messy letters.

Noticing his sudden silence, you stand to get a better look at what’s in his hands. You peek over his shoulder to see the valentine he hand made in the 4th grade. Immediately you become overwhelmed with embarrassment thinking Eddie was completely freaked out by the fact you kept the card so long, like some kind of stalker weirdo. Words vomit out of your mouth as you try to save your dignity. “Oh! That's- that's so weird! I can't believe I still have that. I thought I threw that out years ago. I’ll just take that back-”

Eddie instinctually snatches the card against his chest, his chin tucked in as he searches your eyes. When it's clear to you he isn't going to give it up, your hand falls limp at your side. Glancing at the card once more, he tries his best to keep his voice steady. “You kept this?” 

The change in demeanor feels unsettling. “Yeah, of course I did.” You look at your feet shyly. “It, uh, means a lot to me.” When you look back up, you see Eddie staring back with confusion.

You’ve gone through this scenarios hundreds of times in the late hours of the night when your brain just couldn’t stop running. How would Eddie react if he found out you kept something he made you when you were kids? The scoff that slips past his taunting lips was the last thing you expected from Eddie. He stands from the bed, looking down on you with a humorless smile. “This shitty scrap of paper means a lot to you?” The sudden scrutiny feels harsh and full of malice. You’ve never had the displeasure to be on the receiving end of Eddie’s anger, and from what little you’ve seen thus far, you hope to never face it again.

Shrugging like it was no big deal, you try your best to downplay your defensiveness. “Well, yeah. I thought it was really sweet of you.” You can’t stop yourself from squinting at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, are you mad at me for keeping it?” Why is he upset with you over this? It was given to you as a gift. You should be able to decide what you do with it without his approval. 

Despite being the one who asked the question, Eddie doesn’t really hear your answer, nor the following question. As he stares down at the messy writing on old, yellowed notebook paper, he feels his chest tighten in an overwhelming stifled rage. Having to be face to face with a reminder of his failure fills Eddie with so much self-hatred that he can’t think straight. It’s a reminder of his shitty dad. A reminder of his shitty childhood. It wasn’t fair. Every imperfect line and patch of bleeding ink stared back at him, mocking him. It all congeals to a point of no return in his gloomy head.

Eddie stares in silence for a moment too long and you can see the emotions shift in his face into something darker. “What are you-” You are cut off by the sound of a quick and quiet crunch, the paper crumpling in his first. It’s a knee jerk reaction that has you gasping at the sight, and Eddie immediately regretting. A piece of his heart shatters at the sound of yours doing the same. “Eddie!” Your high pitched squeal of anguish around the syllables of his own name has him filling with that same sinking heat of shame he felt all those years ago. 

Your hands dart at him, taking the paper from his grip as fast as it was destroyed. You do your best to smooth the paper back into some semblance of its former glory, but the creases on the old, thin paper still remain. It makes it difficult to see the handwritten words on the page, especially since your eyes are welling up with tears. You turn away from Eddie, too angry to face him. Too hurt to let him see you cry over this. Instead you kneel on the floor, slumping over the valentine you hold with the same delicacy as you would hold a baby bird with a broken wing.

Eddie feels his heart racing with anxiety. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to make you cry. He didn’t mean to. All he wanted was to get rid of the stupid reminder, not ruin your priceless keepsake. Eddie stands there for a moment, unsure what to do with himself. He fucked up, he knows that, but he doesn’t know how to make it right. Your name falls from his lips in a stuttering mess. “I- I didn’t mean-” 

Whipping your head back to shoot him a teary eyed glare, you cut him off. “Don’t.” A sad shake of your head, “Just don’t, Eddie.” You didn’t want to hear how he was just trying to make some kind of joke. It wasn’t funny. It was just cruel. You turn back to stare at the ruined item in your cupped hands.

Eddie backs up towards the door, eyes wide and voice small. “Sorry.” You don’t say anything, but of course he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him. He leaves you be, silently making his way out of your house. 

On the drive home, he’s mentally kicking himself the entire time. Why did I do that? What is wrong with me? Why do I have to find a way to ruin everything? When he pulls into the gravel driveway of his uncle’s trailer, he cuts the engine and contemplates in silence.

He has to make this right. That valentine meant something to you. You kept that shitty scrap of paper for years while the rest of the class threw it in the trash where it belongs.  That has to mean something, right? You wouldn’t keep trash for this long unless it was important, right?

Eddie runs a hand down his face as he belatedly processed what you said about him. I thought it was really sweet of you. You thought he was sweet? The tiny compliment is enough to bring a flush to his cheeks, and it only makes him feel worse about the whole situation. It’s going to take more than an apology to make it up to you.

It’s a few hours after the incident when you hear a knock at the door. “Coming!” You yell down the hall as you race to answer it. Seeing your kind smile fall when you realize it’s him, Eddie feels like you twisted a knife in his chest. He’s holding a modest bouquet of flowers towards you, gaze struggling to meet your own. “Well, look who it is.” You lean against the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve got some nerve, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie huffs a sigh, his breath visible in the frosty February evening. “I know. I know I don’t deserve to see you, but you deserve an apology. I came back to explain myself. Not that I had any right to do what I did.” He looks up at you from under his lashes. “Can I come in so we can talk?”

There’s a pout on your lips as you consider. The flowers do look very pretty, and he was thoughtful enough to have your favorite color as the centerpiece. Getting flowers last minute, on Valentine’s Day no less, was likely no easy feat, making the gesture more grand than usual. You hum in thought a moment before finally taking pity on the man practically groveling on your doorstep. “Fine.” You step aside to let him in, looking reluctant to do so. 

Relief washes over him as you make room. The warmth of your home felt like a welcoming embrace upon his bone chilled body. Once the door is closed, Eddie outstretches the bouquet towards you again. “Uh, these are for you.”

Doing your best not to show how pleased you are, you take the flowers from him wordlessly. Eddie turns to walk towards your living room, and you take the moment to smell the sweetness of them while he isn’t watching. You sit on the couch, laying the bouquet on the coffee table for the time being. 

Eddie continues to stand, feeling unworthy of your comforts. It feels reminiscent of when he first visited your home. The awkwardness of being new friends was evident as he stood in the corner, waiting for permission to sit on the couch or even enter the room. Now it’s like he wouldn’t sit even if you asked him to. Eddie preferred to pace while he talked. He has too much energy to expel to be still.

You give him your attention finally, arms crossed again, waiting for the apology he owes you. He clears his throat, hands nervously wringing together. “So first of all, I’m sorry for ruining your valentine. And your Valentine's day, for that matter. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He chuckles dryly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Shit, I wasn’t thinking at all. I just got caught up in my stupid bullshit. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. It was just-” You raise an eyebrow, not quite believing him yet. Eddie releases a breath like it was struggling to get out. “Seeing that valentine I made that everyone gave me shit for…” he sighs again, struggling to find the words. “It just brought it all back. I was a kid again being pointed and laughed at in front of everyone.” 

As he says this, your features soften when you recall what he’s talking about. You heard what some of the other kids were saying about Eddie’s valentines, but at the time you didn’t think he cared what they thought. He was always unapologetically himself to the point that the thought of Eddie being embarrassed or ashamed never even crossed your mind.

Eddie looks at you with a sad tilt of his head, wild curls bunching at his shoulder. “That doesn’t make it right, but I thought you ought to know why I did what I did.” He shakes his head dismissively. “It had nothing to do with you and I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart.” He smiles ruefully, “but you already knew that.” His eyes dim a little at his self-deprecation.

You nod in understanding, a small smile on your face. “I appreciate your apology.” You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him just yet, and you wanted to be sure he realized that.

Although Eddie knew it wouldn’t be easy, he can’t help but feel disappointed he hadn’t earned your forgiveness yet. Regardless, he nods with a tight lipped smile in acceptance before reaching a hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “I wanted to make it up to you,” he pulls an envelope out, “with this.” 

You blink owlishly at Eddie’s outstretched hand, surprised he brought more than flowers. Standing from the couch, you gingerly take the card from him, watching him for any signs of what it might be. 

As you open the package, Eddie is already explaining his reasoning. “Now, I know it’s not the same, and it doesn’t hold the same meaning as the original, but I tried my best to remake it for you.”

Pulling the card from the envelope, you gasp at what you find. The writing is much neater, the drawings more detailed, and even the paper feels like it’s made of thicker material, but there is no doubt that this is Eddie’s reconstruction of the card he destroyed. 

The premise of the card was the same. A penguin (your favorite animal at the time) wearing sunglasses, surrounded by icebergs with bubble letters saying ‘U R COOL’ after your name. The sketches are much more sophisticated than any nine year old could make. It was clear that Eddie had honed his art skills over the years by doodling in the margins of all his school work instead of paying attention in class. But it wasn’t what the card looked like that made it special. It was the thoughtful gesture itself. 

When you look back up at Eddie, he shifts on his feet uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. He’s unsure what to make of your expression. “So, uh. Do you like it?” Before you can answer, he’s already speaking for you with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “You hate it, don’t you? I’m sorry, I know it’s not-”

“I love it.”

His eyes go wide, genuinely surprised. “Yeah?” He perks up when he sees your beaming face. “Really?” Eddie lets out a small ‘oof’ when you crash into him with an enthusiastic hug. His chuckling rumbles against your ear as you hold him tightly. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Parting from the hug, you admire the valentine some more. “And I do forgive you, Eddie. I just wish you would have told me what Valentine’s Day really means to you sooner.” You search his dark chocolate eyes. “We’re friends, right? You know I would never make fun of you like that.”

And Eddie did know that, but in that moment, he couldn’t rationalize his intrusive thoughts away. It’s easier to hear that you’re loved versus actually believing it. All he can muster is a shrug, unable to put his inability to trust into words. “Yeah I know.”

With his unconvincing answer, you try a different approach to get him to understand what he means to you. Wordlessly, you leave the room leaving Eddie standing there wondering what you’re up to. You’re back before he gets the chance to overthink your departure, a picture frame in hand. As you fiddle with the tiny metal prongs holding the backing in place, you begin to explain. “From now on, I’m gonna make sure everyone sees this.” You slot the valentine into the frame before securing the backing once more. 

You hang your trophy in the center of your living room wall. Once you’re satisfied with the results, you take a step back and admire it with your hands on your hips. “There. Now, anytime someone visits me, I can brag to them about the personal valentine you made me.” Looking back over your shoulder, you see Eddie smirking bashfully.

“Oh come on. No one’s gonna want to see that.” He gestures to the hand drawn image, but you’re already shaking your head defiantly.

“Too bad. They’re gonna have to. Matter of fact, I’m gonna require they marvel at it for no less than 60 seconds before they can even enter my home.” Your arms are crossed with a playful smile on your face.

Eddie chuckles and there’s a small pause as he appreciates you. “You’re such a dork,” is his mumbled response.

You point up at the framed doodled penguin adorned in shades behind you with an astonishing amount of confidence. “Not according to my best friend.”

He huffs an exasperated sigh. “That’s it. I’m taking it back.” Eddie starts towards the wall, reaching above you. “You’re not cool anymore.” 

Instinctually, you put your hands on his chest in an attempt to stop him, but Eddie isn’t one to back down. “No! You can’t!” Giggles bubble out of you as you try your best to stand your ground. “I am cool!”

[euphor1a]

Just the tip

* part of “boyfriend chronicles” — can be read as a stand-alone.

ꨄ pairing: mingyu x f!oc

ꨄ genres: non idol!au, established relationship, fluff, smut, slice of life.

ꨄ summary: he tried his best, he really did. but lord, for how long could he control himself when you looked like a pretty, little angel, all his to ruin?

ꨄ rating & word count: 18+ ; ~9.5K  

ꨄ warnings/tags: fluff (called me single in 100 languages typa way), plentiful pda, they’re so in love that it repulses me /j, profanity, explicit sexual content; dom/sub undertones (a bit of switch action as well), semi-public sex, breast play, biting/marking, size kink, praising, pet names, fingering, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, “just the tip”, unprotected, penetrative sex, big d*ck!gyu, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), creampie — this is a work of fiction and it doesn’t represent mingyu in any way.    

ꨄ a/n: this series is slowly starting to look like my villain origin story 😔... like wdym i can’t have kim mingyu 💔💔? *sigh* anyway, it’s been a while, enjoy <3!

His footsteps are light despite him being in a hurry. It’s almost as if he could start flying at any moment. Mingyu wishes that was an option. The sunlight filtering through his living room windows barely makes it to the kitchen, where he’s struggling miserably. 

Large, shaky hands grip onto the petite looking sliders he has just finished making, carefully placing them inside the various colorful lunch boxes splayed out on the kitchen island. Mingyu is heaving ever so slightly, a bit of perspiration starting to collect on his forehead. He’s nervous. And it’s silly, he knows. But he can’t help his rushing heart that is hammering against his chest. 

It’s been over ten minutes since you texted him that you’re on your way to the park you two are going to meet up for your date. And he’s still here, in his pj’s, trying to finish packing the picnic basket as quickly as possible without absolutely destroying it. Even though Mingyu woke up criminally early with the intentions to cook everything himself, he somehow managed to fall behind because of the stupid cupcake batter that refused to make anything edible out of itself. 

With what feels like the umpteenth sigh of the day, he manages to complete arranging the boxes inside the basket. However, he almost slips while hurrying to reach his bedroom. A string of curses leave Mingyu’s pouty lips, the muscles in his arms flexing to support his whole body against the wall. He still needs to get ready, leave his house, and buy some sort of dessert from the local bakery before finally meeting you.

Thanking himself for picking up and ironing the outfit yesterday night, he dresses up in a flash. Mingyu ponders if he should do something with his hair, but ends up keeping it the way it currently is. Sure, it is kind of messy, but it also gives him that ‘casually sexy’ look. A satisfied smirk and the bare minimum skincare along with sunscreen later, he regards himself in the mirror for one last time. Looking more than good to go.

That state of peace only lasts for a moment though. Not wanting to be even more late than he already is, Mingyu grabs his phone, wallet, keys and the basket. After another minute of scrambling, he puts on a random pair of loafers and heads out. Even though you haven’t contacted him since earlier, he feels anxious. Who knows for how long you’ve been waiting all alone? 

His long legs help him blaze past the bustling neighborhood, hands clutching on the basket’s handle in an attempt to stop it from swaying unsteadily. Mingyu is so wrapped up in his thoughts of you that he actually walks past the bakery — before realizing and taking a 180° turn. The elderly owner smiles at him brightly as he enters the cozy shop, somehow catching up on what exactly is happening with the usually calm and collected guy he has seen for so long. “Aah, Mingyu! Welcome, my boy! Long time no see, eh? What brought you here all of a sudden? Mayhaps a special day with a special someone?” 

“Hi, Mr. Owen! Hah, really though… I don’t remember the last time I found myself having a little dessert. Glad to be back here! Although, I’m just gonna pretend that I didn’t hear the last part…” Mingyu trails off, eyes taking in the pretty pastries and all sorts of baked goodness displayed in front of him. His heart jumps a little when he thinks about how your face contorts in pure joy whenever you ravish the sugar rush from something sweet. “Uh anyway! Please pack me a dozen of these pastel colored macarons! And maybe four of those glazed donuts? Oh my god… are those heart shaped pies?? Looks so cute! Please pack two of them too!” 

The man nearing his late 60s can’t help but laugh at Mingyu’s excited rambling as he points at the things he wants. “Calm down, calm down, I’ll get to everything one by one.” He folds up some new boxes before putting the delicate confectioneries into them. “You really don’t have to say anything though, the answers are written all over your face.” 

Mingyu, who was busy admiring the heart shaped pies, looks up, confused. “Huh?” 

“The question I asked earlier. Which you pretended to not hear. The answer to it is written all over your face.” Owen shakes his head with a smile on his face. 

“Oh–” Mingyu looks down at his feet. Is he really that obvious? But even if he is, should he care about it? Feeling happy and elevated to meet his girlfriend doesn’t always need to be embarrassing. 

“Don’t mind my little teasing now, will you? Do you want me to put these in your basket?” He’s brought back to reality by Owen’s voice. Mingyu nods and brings the picnic basket up on the counter. 

While the old man adds up the prices to write a bill after carefully putting all the desserts in the almost full basket, Mingyu finds himself zoning out. Would you like all the things he’s bringing? What if you have some secret allergy he doesn’t know yet, and you’re unable to eat? A pout forms on his lips. But then he remembers — he’s been pretty late by now, and you’re waiting for him in a place you’re not familiar with at all.

He hurriedly pays and grabs his basket, apologizing to Owen for not being able to hang around longer and leaving immediately. Once he’s outside again, he quickly takes his phone and calls your number. Mingyu almost feels jittery, scenarios going through his head that aren’t exactly nice. Thankfully for him, you pick up after a few rings, greeting him cheerily.

“Mingyu! Hello baby! I’m here already, are you on your way?”  

That alone is enough for the six feet tall, grown ass man to wish he could disintegrate into thin air right now. Not in a negative way, though. He just finds it extremely devastating that you called him “baby” like that. But Mingyu is quick to recover from that feeling. “Hi angel, I’m on my way!! I’m sorry you have to wait there all alone… I’m like a three minute walk away from the park. Do you, maybe, wanna keep talking over the phone?”

“Aw sure! And don’t worry about it please, I’m just standing beneath a large tree and enjoying the scenery! It’s so pretty here!” 

Three minutes feel like thirty seconds with you, as he already gets through the park’s elegant looking entrance. His eyes immediately start searching for you. “Baby, I just got through the main gate! Where are you?” 

“Oh! That was quick, Gyu; should I come over to the entrance?” 

“Nono princess! Stay where you are, I’ll be there. Just give me some directions!” Mingyu insists. To his surprise, you don’t give up for your cause.

“Why?” Your voice is nearly a whine, “It’ll be way easier if I just go where you are!” 

With his heart doubling in his chest from fondness, he sighs, “Fine… I guess. Come over quickly then, will you?” 

“Yep yep, already on my way! I can’t wait to see you!” You giggle excitedly, keeping your eyes on the path as you wander back towards the main gate. Mingyu waits by the side of a decorative statue for you. His gaze is searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person he’s grown to adore endlessly. 

It’s only a matter of seconds for you to spot each-other, two pairs of eyes lighting up with joy. You run to him giddily, colliding into his firm chest that you’ve fallen asleep on several times now. His large arms wrap around your small frame to pull you closer, as if on instinct.

You inhale his scent deeply, a mix of his cologne and the smell of fresh laundry from his black polo shirt. However, you do avoid getting your face smushed up against him— for the sake of your skincare and makeup. Both of you stay locked in each other’s embrace for a while, before eventually pulling away.

“You look so unbelievably pretty, my love.” Mingyu leans down to place a kiss on your head. “And smelling like a dream, as well.” Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you fiddle with the belt loops of his beige trouser.

Only now, you’ve become aware of exactly how fucking good he looks today. This black polo fits him like a glove, paired with trousers that accentuate his long legs. Oh and, he also has a pair of eyeglasses that adorns his handsome face. The whole imagery is pretty devastating to your brain as it fails to process everything your eyes have registered. Why is it even legal to look like this?

You suddenly feel majorly weak in the knees, but Mingyu supports you with his unoccupied hand, flashing you a cocky grin. “What happened, baby?” He teases, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. You hold onto his arms and regain composure, clearing your throat from embarrassment. 

“Uhm, you look… really really great as well.” His eyes twinkle as he smiles upon your compliment, the hand around your waist pressing you into him. Your heart flutters in your chest from the close exposure. Mingyu seems a bit more touchy-touchy than usual, considering that you guys are in public.

“All for you, my angel,” your boyfriend mutters right against your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. As if that wasn’t satisfactory enough, he lets his lips brush over the shell of your ear, catching you even more off-guard. What the hell is in the air today? 

“Uhm– let’s go find a spot for our date? Or are we gonna just stand here?” You look up at Mingyu questioningly, doe eyes causing his heart to skip a beat. He sighs, just slightly annoyed with how his mind goes to unspeakable places with just that.

“Of course, baby, let’s find a place to sit down.” He smiles brightly, watching you wrap your smaller arm around his. To his dismay, his hungry eyes once again take in how pretty and irresistible you look in this flowy, white sundress. 

The soft material caresses your thighs with each stride; Mingyu wishes it was his hand instead. It’s absurd, but the way this dress has pretty flowers and hearts printed across it makes him wanna mark you up. The poofy sleeves, the sweetheart neckline that shows just enough to drive him crazy — God. Even the way your hair is loosely braided with stray locks tucked behind your ear? He genuinely wants to cancel all plans and take you to his home and do you all day.

It’s crazy, really. How can you just look like that and expect anyone to act like a normal functioning human? Mingyu shakes his head a little and inhales shakily. You deserve to get pampered on a picnic date as much as you deserve to get mind-blowing orgasms. 

“You’re not paying attention to me at all…” The sound of your dejected voice breaks him out of his reverie. Shit.

“No, no! Baby, please, I’m sorry… Uh, to be painfully honest with you, I’m distracted because you look so exceptionally pretty, like an angel who’s descended on Earth. But still, I’m really sorry for not listening to what you have to say. I promise I’ll focus from now on!!” He laces your fingers together and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’re such a flatterer, Kim Mingyu.” You try to hide your smile, sounding a bit angry to tease him. Your beloved boyfriend hates it when you call him by his full birth name; and this time is no different. However, to your surprise, instead of throwing a tantrum like he usually does, Mingyu leads you to the side of the path. 

“Wha—” you start, but close your mouth out of shock when he covers your frame entirely and leans down to press a sweet kiss on your lips. Your hands press against his toned stomach for support, your head emptying entirely. His lips are so soft against yours, the heat radiating from his body warming you up a bit too much. 

You pull away first, your whole face heated from his sudden action. As you take deep breaths to compensate for the air you lost during the kiss, Mingyu finally speaks up. “Don’t be mad at me today, my love. Please. I’m gonna be so, so sad. I promise I’ll do better but god, please don’t be upset.” His lips have formed his signature pout, your heart melting at the spot. 

You let your thumb caress over his pout, tip-toeing to peck him. Mingyu’s lips stretch into a smile, his unoccupied hand curling around your waist. “You’re so cute, how can I be mad at you?” You giggle, absolutely adored by this soft giant begging you to not be upset. 

“If I am cute, then what are you, princess?” Mingyu grins, nuzzling your hand before you move it away. You shake your head, not willing to debate on who’s the cutest. 

“Anyway, we should really find a place to sit down and get our picnic started. I was just saying that there aren’t a lot of people in the park right now, but we should still find a place with enough privacy.” 

The way Mingyu nods is like a puppy tilting its head. God, the way you’d commit arson for this guy. With a soft sigh, you continue. “And, I also have my own basket, which I left at an empty space I found by where I was standing. Let’s go there first, then we can move further into the park where not a lot of people will potentially find or bother us.” 

It takes you guys a few minutes to go and fetch your own basket, and probably another ten to fifteen minutes to find a spot for your picnic date. Mingyu is extremely happy with the grassy little patch surrounded by tall bushes and large trees, a big smile on his face as he takes out the picnic blanket he brought along. He can’t wait to show you all the food he made. 

Once he’s done setting the blanket, you take off your pastel pink mary janes and settle down on the blanket with your picnic basket nearby. Mingyu looks at you, a bit surprised. “You’re taking off your shoes?” The question makes you narrow your eyes. 

“And why wouldn’t I be taking off my shoes? To make this brand new blanket dirty?” His mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, before he nods. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. “You can keep your shoes on, if you want. There’s no need to stink up this place.”

“HEY! I’m not that unhygienic, that last time I just forgot about laundry for some reason. I already told you… And I’m not wearing any socks today…” Mingyu trails off, discarding his loafers with a ‘hmph’. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Stop sulking, Gyu.” You watch him as he sits down as well, adjusting his trousers a bit to be more comfortable in this position. He overlooks you for now, reaching for his basket and carefully taking out the desserts first. Then, he produces a bunch of different tupperwares out of it, placing all the food in the center of the mat, between you two. 

You reach for your own basket as well, cautiously eyeing your boyfriend who seems to be extremely invested in unpacking all the food. The only things you’ve brought along today for the picnic date are flowers, a flower vase, a small canvas and some tubes of watercolor, besides your necessary belongings. Although it’s kinda embarrassing, it can’t be helped because Mingyu insisted on bringing everything for the date. 

“Gyu,” you murmur, hands anxiously gathering the loosely made bouquet inside your basket. It’s oddly nerve-wracking. You’ve never really received or given flowers in a relationship before. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, eyes furrowed as he rummages through his basket. With a sharp inhale, you slowly retrieve the flowers, extending them towards him. Mingyu immediately turns to look at your shaky hands holding a bouquet of Jasmine and Lilacs, his face heating up as he realizes what’s going on.

“____, my baby,” he coos, bringing his hands to wrap around your trembling ones. “It looks so pretty, did you bring them for me?” You avoid eye-contact, but nod to give him confirmation. The wave of weird emotions that hits Mingyu is hard for him to explain. Usually, he’s been the one giving flowers to his partners in relationships. But, being on the receiving end for the first time, he feels as if he’s on top of the world. 

“C’mere.” He leans in to grab your waist, bringing you closer to him, before hoisting you up a little to place you on his lap. Mingyu fixes your dress, then  pulls you closer to rest against his chest. His left hand remains wrapped up around your midsection. “Thank you so much, love. I’m over the moon that you got me flowers. I’m so lucky to be dating you, angel.” He presses a kiss on your cheek, your heart almost bursting inside your chest. 

“Do you know Victorian floriography?” you look at him, slightly embarrassed. When he shakes his head as ‘no’, you go on, “It’s the language of flowers. Back then, gifted flowers used to have hidden meanings… But it’s kinda coming back in trend, I guess.” 

“Oh,” Mingyu ponders, “Then, does this bouquet of Jasmine and Lilacs have a secret message as well?” You nod, looking up at him with a shy smile. 

“Find it out later, okay? For now, please explain what you’ve brought along in so many boxes…?” Trying to change the topic, you take away the flowers to put them inside the vase you brought along, settling it in an empty space between all the packed boxes of desserts.

He chuckles nervously, suddenly remembering all the food he brought. “Uh… right. I might’ve gone a bit overboard with it, but I promise, sixty percent of everything you see is made by me, with so much love.” 

“Whoa!” you exclaim. “That’s a lot of things you made with your own hands… I’m honored.” Mingyu presses a kiss on the side of your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you stop yourself from making any noises. It’s… weird that he’s being so intimate while you are pretty much in public. But god, does it do things to you… 

“You haven’t tasted anything yet, though. Heck, let me show you what’s inside first.” He reaches for the closest tupperware, and to your surprise, you see various, colorful fruits, all cut up in small heart shapes and laid out in rows. 

“Omg, so cute!!” you squeal, clapping your hands together in excitement. Mingyu beams at you, clearly happy with your reaction. 

“Hehe, there’s a lot more to see!” He stretches to grab two more boxes, each revealing tteok-bokki, your mouth inevitably watering from the sight. You’ve had these delicious rice cakes made by him a few times prior, and you loved it to bits. 

He leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Should I take out the chopsticks?” Mingyu closes the box with fruits in it, moving it to the side. “Let’s go from spicy to sweet, hm? I also made tiny sliders because you seem to like miniature food a lot! After these, we can have the desserts!” 

You nod in agreement, snuggling up to him more. Receiving treatment like this makes you feel like a princess. Even though you’re not sure how much he has brought along, you internally make up your mind to at least taste everything and applaud the effort he put into it.  

Once you guys are done eating everything he had prepared himself, you urge Mingyu to take a break and save the desserts for the very end. He agrees, not willing for the date to end anytime soon. 

“I brought along something else as well… if you let me go for a bit, I can take my basket and you can hold me again.” You say after a while of chatting about this and that. Your boyfriend eyes you curiously, loosening his arms around your waist momentarily. That is enough for you to grab your basket and settle down on his lap again. 

“What did you bring? I’m so curious! Wait— tubes of paint?!” To add more to his surprise, you take out the small canvas, a literal gasp escaping Mingyu. “What can we possibly do with these? I don’t see any brushes…” 

“It’s so surprising to me that you’re always on Instagram, yet you have no clue about this.” You tease, placing the canvas in a position where both of you can access it very comfortably. He raises an eyebrow at your comment, feeling very attacked. But he refrains from saying anything.

“Let’s just start doing it, okay? It’ll make sense immediately because it’s nothing complicated.” You sigh, taking Mingyu’s palm in yours. He looks confused as you take the red watercolor tube first, getting rid of the cap and squeezing out a generous amount on the top of pinky finger. 

“Oh…” He lets you take his hand and bring it to the center of the tiny canvas, pressing the paint covered finger carefully against the paper. “But what’s that supposed to do? It just looks like a blob of paint…” Mingyu looks at you questioningly as you retreat his pinky from the canvas. 

“Oh hush, don’t be so impatient!” You scold him jokingly, pointing towards a bunch of tissues. “Clean up your finger now! You’ll find out soon enough.” He puffs out his lower lip, reaching for a tissue while grumbling.

You take the tube of blue watercolor and cover your whole thumb with a thick layer of paint. Mingyu watches you curiously while you press on your thumb in the opposite direction of his ‘blob of paint’, trying to get the sizes as close as possible. “That is so fucking adorable?!” Your boyfriend erupts in cute aggression when you lift up your thumb, revealing a heart made with your fingerprints. 

“It’s so cute, you’re so cute, fuck, I–” He stops himself before any inevitable words roll off his tongue. Mingyu is well aware that you prefer to take things slow, and he wants to make sure that you can process everything at your own pace. His thoughts are interrupted by your giggles. 

He tightens his hands right beneath your chest, pushing you close to nuzzle the crook of your neck. “Is it that funny? So fun to watch me lose my shit because of how fucking adorable you are, hm?”

“It’s not like that…” you murmur, goosebumps all over your body. “I just thought that it’s kinda amusing how you were all clueless and nagging about it earlier, then suddenly, you were screaming about how cute this is.” It’s hard for you to not make any sounds when he’s caressing your sensitive areas, but you attempt to keep your voice low and steady. 

Mingyu wishes he could explain how much that tiny heart shaped painting actually means to him. It’s almost like all your heart is into those two blobs of red and blue paint, looking back at him, telling him secrets you’ve never shared with him before. He feels all warm and fluffy inside, his senses all wrapped around your nuances. “Can I keep that for myself?” 

“Of course!” You smile brightly at him, extremely giddy that he wants to keep this small token of your feelings for him which will last way longer than the flowers. “Let the paint dry first, though.” 

“Sure, baby.” He squeezes you in his arms. “Can we have the desserts now? I know it doesn’t look like it, but there are plenty of them.” Mingyu whines, feeling sort of desperate to show you everything he bought earlier. Thankfully for him, you nod, perking up at the mention of many desserts. 

He reaches for the box with pies first, knowing very well you’ll absolutely adore them. And you do, blessing his ears with one of those cute squeals of yours, eyes sparkling at the sight in front of you. “OMG!! So pretty! And it looks delicious!” 

“Mhm, I had a feeling you’d love to have these. Let’s dig in!” Mingyu takes out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squirting out some of it on both of your hands. These pies are very conveniently palm-sized. With its crust shaped like a heart, ruby red filling made out of cherries — it sure does make you feel hungry just by looking at it. 

“C’mon, take a bite,” your boyfriend muffles out, mouth already full of the big bite he has just taken. You nod gingerly, taking a shy bite of the pie as well. The buttery, flaky crust, paired up with a bit of the sweet cherries melt in your mouth, a satisfied sound rumbling in your throat. 

“Mm, it’s really good!” The smile on your face is like a whole trophy to Mingyu. You liked it. He’s so glad that he can’t really explain. 

“Yay!!! I got you donuts and macaroons as well!” He blurts out, all giddy looking at you savoring the sweet dessert. Once you’re done with the pie, he reaches for the boxes of both donuts and macarons, earning a small whine from you.

“I can’t eat that much… I’m almost full.” 

“Why? You only ate a little…” A frown forms on your boyfriend’s lips.

“Gyu. I had a ton of tteok-bokki. Then sliders. Then fruits. On the dessert side, I already had a pie. I’m really, really, sorry, but that looks like a lot of macarons and donuts. My stomach will either burst or I’ll just throw up at the end of this!” You try your best to make your point stand, pleading with your eyes for him to understand.

Mingyu heaves out a sigh. “Fineee. You’re gonna take the macarons back home with you, then. I bought these especially for you. And I’m not listening to any complaints about that.” 

“Gyu, that kinda makes me feel bad though… you basically did everything for this date.” 

“Baby, I did everything voluntarily because I wanted to treat you like this. Like you deserve to be treated. And c’mon now! You brought flowers for me, and came up with a fun little activity to do. What about all the dates we’ve had before that were totally planned by you? So pretty please, with a cherry on top, don’t turn me down?” 

You turn in his lap to face him, blinking back the silly tears that clouded your vision. He hums in approval as you wind your arms around his neck and pull him in for a sweet kiss. Although, you pull back soon enough, resting your foreheads together instead. “You mean so much to me,” you mutter, eyes locking with him. 

A strange warmth spreads throughout Mingyu, radiating inside-out and filling up his heart. He doesn’t really know what to say back — simply because he’s over aware of the fact that he is completely and utterly in love with you. But he doesn’t want to hurry, he wants to move with you, as you slowly open up your petals to him, like a flower does to a sun. 

“I wish there were words in my vocabulary capable of explaining how much you mean to me.” He smiles softly, pressing a butterfly kiss to the corner of your lips. Mingyu absolutely adores the sound of your giggle that drifts to his ears. 

“You’re so cheesy, I kinda like it.” 

“Just 'kinda'?” He can’t help his own chuckle. “And here I thought I was getting a lot of charm points for being cheesy.” 

“You can be cheesy all you want, baby. I think most of your charm points come from your physical features at a first glance.” You boop his nose, both of you bursting out in laughter. 

“Are you saying that I’m handsome?” 

“Mhm. Very handsome, in fact. Very tall as well. Very… very big too.” You can see the playful glint vanishing from his eyes. Mingyu inhales a shaky breath. 

“Let’s get to those donuts now. Please?” 

You nod, moving around to get back on your previous position. He bites back a groan as your hands feel around, squeeze and grab on his thighs before you settle down. “What donuts did you bring?” 

“Glazed donuts, cause you really liked them the last time!” He wraps an arm around your waist, adjusting you to be closer to him. Mingyu is well aware that he’s barely holding up. But, he’s trying to convince himself that being closer to you can get him through his… hard times.

“Whoa omg these look so good?!” His inner monologue is interrupted by your squeal. A small smile curls up his lips. 

“Right? Dig in, baby!” He encourages, leaning forward to take a donut for himself. You follow suit, excited to bite into the sugary heaven. 

The sweet dough crumbles in your mouth upon the first bite, the sugar glaze hitting your taste buds just right. As you savor the pleasant taste of it, a satisfied hum rumbles in your throat. “Gyu, this tastes heavenly. Way better than the last time we had it! And I loved the ones we got back then?!”

“I’m so glad, my angel. I’ll get you more the next time we meet up~” Your boyfriend nuzzles your hair affectionately, his heart doubling in his chest from adoration. It’s hard to explain how great he feels simply by seeing you happy, enjoying your food. Maybe, it’s because Mingyu himself loves to eat heartily and cook for his people; he hopes that he can see you like this forever. 

It would be so nice, he would cook for you everyday and help you out whenever you felt like cooking, and dine-out and order in as your heart desires. 

You’re almost done with your second donut by now, but Mingyu hasn’t said anything or even touched his portion after saying that he’d bring you more. Kind of worried, you turn your head to look at him, finding his eyes transfixed on you. 

“... Hello? Why’d you go silent? Is something in my hair or—” you stop halfway when you notice his gaze has shifted to your lips now. It makes you swallow nervously, anticipation building up in your system. You know that look all too well. 

“There’s something on your lips.” His voice is nonchalant, relaxing your senses a bit. You nod, attempting to wipe off the crumbs with your hand, but he catches your wrist, leaning in swiftly to wrap your lower lip between his. 

Goosebumps spread all over your body, hands automatically winding around his neck as he suckles on the delicate flesh of your lips. His free hand rests against the small of your back, urging you to turn towards him fully. 

You really don’t understand how he can kiss you this good when you are yet to open up to his tongue. Your body has already started to heat up, breathing uneven. With shaky hands, you clumsily take off his glasses, his lips curling up in a smile against yours. 

Soon enough, he coaxes your mouth open, his hand letting go of your wrist and cupping your jaw instead. You both moan simultaneously, crazed by the sweet aftertaste of the desserts. Mingyu is extremely eager, taking the lead as always, your body starting to quake from the mind numbing kiss.

Picking up on your struggle to breathe, he pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips. “You have to keep breathing through your nose, baby. You can’t just forget to breathe, even if I’m kissing you so good for so long that your mind goes blank.” 

You flush at the mention of your usual complaint against him whenever he has to give you space to breathe during a make-out. “I… I try, I swear, but it’s…” you trail off between huffs, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Aw, am I giving my princess a hard time?” Mingyu pats your head, nudging you to get back up. You nod, a small chuckle escaping him. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he leans in for a brief peck. “And so pretty, looking like a fairy today.” 

He returns to the kiss with full passion, tongue immediately entangling with yours, a low groan escaping him. You taste so maddeningly sweet, like an endless source of honey to his bee. He suckles on your tongue, his teeth nibbling on your lips, reducing you to an absolute mess. You are, quite literally, shaking, arousal dripping down your core and ruining the pretty lace thong you wore for today’s date. 

“Aah–” you gasp as he trails down to press wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, hands pulling at the sleeves of your dress. You don’t stop him, threading your fingers through the luscious locks of his wavy hair. Mingyu has nearly forgotten that you guys are technically in public, and has made you do the same. He drags your bra strap off your shoulder using his teeth, biting and sucking on the newly exposed skin.

One of his hands is wrapped around your waist to secure you, his other hand slipping beneath the skirt of your dress, stroking your thighs. Only now, you suddenly remember that you’re on a picnic date in a somewhat secluded part of a very public park. “Mm–mingyu– don’t—” you struggle with your words,  overwhelmed by his ministrations. He’s everywhere — touching, squeezing, licking, kissing and biting. “Stop, please.” You whimper, his actions halting immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu lifts his head to assess your situation, looking dazed himself, his voice hoarse. You swallow nervously, your own eyes glazed with tears that had appeared because he made you feel a bit too good.

“We… we’re in public,” You state firmly. “We can get caught in a very indecent state if we keep going.” 

Mingyu takes a look around the surroundings. Tall bushes and plenty of large trees cover this small patch of area entirely. He knew exactly what he was doing when he chose this spot. One would have to wander off very far into the park and physically push off bushes to get in here like you guys did. Which, to him, seems extremely unlikely. 

“I wouldn’t call this public, my love.” He takes both of your hands to entwine your fingers. “And I highly doubt someone would come this far and specifically peek around the bushes to catch us. You do remember how long it took us to get here, no?” 

“Yeah… but, what if—” 

“There are no ‘what if’s, my angel. Even if someone did come this far into the park, they’d still have to manhandle the bushes to be able to see what’s on the other side. Please, trust me…” 

His broken look stirs something in you, and you lean in to touch your foreheads together. “I do trust you. And I want you as much as you want me,” you whisper shyly, your thong uncomfortably damp and sticking to your skin. “But, wouldn’t it be better if we go home quickly, and um, finish what we started…?” 

Mingyu sighs, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you as close as possible. “I don’t think I can hang on for that long, baby. I need you so fucking bad. I’ve been struggling to keep myself together for an embarrassingly long time now. You– You just look so goddamn pretty. Like a tiny little fairy who is all mine to ruin. Fuck, just… just see what you’ve done to me.” He takes one of your hands and guides it to his crotch, blood rushing to your face. 

“If you want me just as much as I do, you must be soaking wet, right?” His whisper is hot against your neck, right hand holding your own to his growing bulge while his left hand slips between your thighs. You gasp when he rubs his fingers against your ruined underwear, a satisfied grunt reverberating in his throat. “Fuck.” Mingyu curses under his breath, his hips bucking up to your joined hands.

“You really want us to go home in this state? Hm?” His voice is a whine, only adding more to your devastation. To be really honest, all logical reasoning left your system the moment he made you feel his hard-on. And then he had to feel your drenched thong in return as well, arousing you to the extent where you don’t really give a fuck about being in the open anymore.

“Hngh, fine— do it quickly.” You whimper, every inch of you begging for his touch, to be relieved. Mingyu smiles, ecstatic upon your words, hungry lips finding yours for a kiss. You moan at the contact, pussy clenching around nothing. 

“As my princess wishes.” He hums, pulling down your dress to reveal your bra. His pupils dilate at the sight in front of him. Even when he dragged down the straps of your bra with his teeth, he didn’t think you’d be wearing a rather provocative lacey piece today. “Fuck,” Mingyu bunches up your dress around your waist, a groan escaping him.

Is this another fantasy of his? Cause no, fuck, you sure do look like it. 

The delicate lace work barely covers anything, his cock throbbing inside the confines of his boxer-briefs. He feels like he’s high. “Baby,” your boyfriend rasps, “do you even understand what you do to me? Hm?” 

“You like it?” your voice is a whisper, fingers digging into his shoulder from nervousness. A part of you knows the answer already, but still, hearing it out loud from him always makes you feel butterflies. 

“You’re really asking me that? Fuck, I love it, you’re so fucking pretty, I can’t believe that you’re real, and mine.” Mingyu groans, one of his hands reaching for your bra and pulling at its cups. His mouth immediately attaches to your left breast as soon as it is released. You gasp, body quivering at the touch. He bites and suckles on the soft flesh teasingly before reaching for your hardened nipple. 

You whimper out his name, fingers gripping on his hair. The way his tongue swirls around and suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves makes you dizzy. More arousal leaks out of your core, desperation cresting higher and higher. You need him in you, right now.

But Mingyu is lost in your breasts, reaching for your right one after a while, teeth dragging over the nipple before his tongue slurps at it. You quiver and whine in his arms from all the sensations you’re feeling. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and he never slacks off at that. 

“You’re so perfect, my little angel.” Mingyu hums, his right hand groping your left boob. “Fits so perfectly in my hand, so cute,” he murmurs before looking up at you. As he meets your tearful eyes, he loses a bit more of his sanity. 

“Damn it, you look so—” he stops short, breathing heavily. Will he ever get used to the way you look during intimacy? Probably not. The flushed face, teary eyes and parted lips always gets him.

“Gyu,” you whine, hugging him tightly. “It hurts, please do something,” your whisper is hot against the shell of his ear. Mingyu can’t help but smirk, wondering if he should tease you. “Need you in me.” your sweet plea stirs him, more blood rushing towards the south.

“Fuck it.” He reaches between your thighs, cupping your pussy. The soaked, warm fabric makes him growl. Your hips immediately start rocking, generating friction — something you’ve been craving for so long now. You sigh in relief, using his hand to stimulate yourself.

“What if someone sees you like this right now? So needy, humping my hand?” Mingyu asks, amused. Goosebumps spread over your skin, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. However, you don’t stop moving your hips, inner walls clenching in desperation. 

“Do–don’t say that,” you whimper, “so embarrassing.” 

“Is that so? But you’re still rubbing into my hand, though.” 

“It’s because you won’t help me…” 

Mingyu can’t help but chuckle, his thumb finding your clit and pressing on it firmly. You scream out, a strong pulse of pleasure spreading through your nerves. He shushes you, alarmed. “Shh, you can’t be so loud today, baby… what if someone hears you and decides to check what’s going on?” 

You bite your tongue, absorbing his words. The thought paralyzes you from embarrassment, but for some reason, your pussy has a mind of its own. “It’s all your fault,” you croon, “it’s all because you can’t control yourself.” 

“I already said this like a hundred times, but, you look so fucking pretty in this cute little dress, baby. So fucking pretty. How am I supposed to control myself? When all I can think about is ruining my sweet angel?” Mingyu rasps, his calloused fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles. You’re certain that your legs will give up at this rate, your whole body teetering from the stimulation. 

“Bu–but—” you lower your voice to a whisper, “people will catch us like this, what then?” He presses a fleeting kiss on the corner of your lips, pushing the soaked lace of your thong to the side and sliding his middle finger between your labia against your slit. You swallow back a moan, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Guess you’re gonna have to keep it quiet in that case.” Mingyu pushes the digit into your sopping hole, making a ‘shlick’ sound that surprises both of you. “Fuck, did you hear that? Did you hear how wet you are for me?” You squeeze him in response, nerve endings on fire. It feels so incredibly good to finally have something fill your aching core. 

“Move, please,” you whimper, getting impatient. As if to test you, he slowly starts dragging his finger down, before pushing it back inside in a rough manner. You muffle your squeal against his shoulder, overwhelmed yet wanting more of him.

Soon enough, Mingyu loses the patience to tease you, his own urges kicking in. His ring finger slides into the depths of your molten warmth as well, your walls clenching around him from excitement. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he hisses under his breath. Slow, languid movements let him feel the way your arousal coats his skin in a silky veil, making him feel kind of suffocated around his crotch.

“Baby,” you whine, “wan’ more, please.” The burning ache for a release fires through your system, every single one of your cells begging for more. A breathy laugh rings in your ears, to your dismay.

“Want what exactly, love?” Mingyu’s eyes are twinkling with mischief, knowing very well that he’s pushing your boundaries right now. 

“Harder,” your choked whisper is hot against the shell of his ear. He clenches his teeth, thumb pressing down onto the swollen nub before anything. A gasp escapes you, face falling to rest in the crook of his neck, breathing uneven. His fingers pick up speed eventually, your lower stomach in knots, a shiver running down your spine. If your mouth wasn’t pressed up against his skin, you probably would’ve blabbered about how good he’s making you feel. 

It doesn’t take long for you to crest up towards the pinnacle, whole body convulsing, preparing itself for the rushing relief it’s about to experience. Mingyu, knowing very well that you’re about to finish, adds a third digit into your slippery warmth, seemingly triggering your orgasm. You muffle your cries in his neck, falling onto him as your legs give up entirely. He holds you securely with his free arm, feeling kinda dizzy himself. His neck is all slobbered up, covered with messy bites you left while trying to silence yourself. 

It takes you longer than usual to recover, finding the strength to stand on your knees. Blood rushes to your face when you regard the state of your boyfriend’s neck, even the collar of his black polo a victim to your actions. Mingyu, on the other hand, barely holding on, finally starts to pull out his fingers from your pussy, your juices leaking out on his hand profusely from the movement. A breathy whimper escapes you, nerves alight for pleasure once again. 

“Fuck, take a look at this,” He holds up his hand between you two, the slightly viscous liquid catching the sunlight and glowing, making you flush. “You treat me s’well, baby, servin’ me liquid gold.” His words only make you even more embarrassed, eyes avoiding him at all costs. The lewd sound of his slurping sends a tingle through your core, droopy eyes shyly catching him lick his fingers clean. You shudder a little when he moans satisfactorily, eyes trained on you the whole time.

In a sudden surge of boldness, you reach out to caress his jawline, bringing him closer for a kiss. Mingyu hums, a smile forming on his lips before attacking your mouth with full force. You gasp and moan while he finds his way to your tongue, the growingly familiar taste of yourself on his saliva causing a new surge of arousal to your core. Quite desperate to feel him now, you fumble with the button on his trousers blindly, undoing it quickly before reaching for the zipper. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu pulls away with a hiss, his stomach tightening from the feeling of your hand lightly pressing onto his clothed cock. Your eyes greedily devour the outline of his boner, almost poking at the material of his boxer briefs. Pussy clenching at the thought of him filling you up, you pull at the waistband of his underwear. 

“My god, Mingyu,” you swallow nervously, unsure how to react as his heavy cock springs out of its confines, slapping against his tummy. You’ve never seen it this angry and twitching, head covered with a light sheen of his pre-cum. Heart almost beating out of your chest, you reach for him, hands delicately wrapping around his length and giving it a few, slow pumps. 

“Baby, fuck—” His eyes shut close, teeth digging into his plump lower lip to restrict any noises. With your thumb, you spread the gathering pre-cum all over his tip, making him whimper in the process. If you don’t get fucked right now, you might just lose your mind. 

“Need you,” you whisper, pressing a fleeting kiss on his nose. Mingyu looks as if he’s pained, a defeated sigh escaping him. 

“My love, I– I need you too. So, so bad, can’t explain.” His eyes tear up suddenly, “B-but—” 

“What happened…?” You ask, alarmed by his expression.

“I— I don’t have a condom.” He frowns, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face in the comfort of your chest. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Your heart drops to your stomach because of how devastating his tone is. 

“Nooo! It’s okay… um, we didn’t know this would happen, y’know? So, um, don’t apologize, please. And don’t talk like that.” You nudge him to look at you. 

“Yeah but… what are we gonna do now? We agreed to be safe from the beginning, so–”

“Well, I’m on birth control for my periods either way, so it’s okay.” You cut him off, desperate for him at this point. 

Mingyu looks up at you, hesitant. “Angel, are you really sure about that?”

A sigh escapes you. You know why he is feeling uncertain, you know that you are the reason. “Gyu, I don’t know anything, but I might just go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now.”

He inhales a shaky breath, your words toying with the few last strings of self-control left in him. “Okay, what about this — I’ll only put the tip inside, make you feel super good so you come quickly for me, and then I’ll pull out before I make a mess.” 

Your body shakes from anticipation. “Just the tip?” 

“Just the tip, baby.” 

Even though it’s not exactly what you had in your mind, you agree quickly. Anything to have him inside you. Also, you’re not too sure how that will possibly work out. You’re almost certain that you’ll end up getting more than just the tip.

Mingyu grabs your waist to position you right on top of him, the urgency in his actions painfully obvious. You gladly comply, too needy to say anything. As you feel his bulbous tip lining up against your entrance, you lean in to touch your foreheads together. “Gyu, I can’t wait anymore, need you right now.” 

With a groan, he slowly guides you down his length, only letting his tip and the following inch inside. You whimper, struggling a little as you get used to the stretch. It’s kind of astonishing how even just that fills you up satisfactorily. But still, you crave all of him, your body knowing the euphoria of having him up in the furthest nooks of your pussy very well. “You’re so big,” you murmur, inner walls clenching around him greedily, eager for more. Mingyu huffs out deep breaths, his ears turning red. How cute.

He collects himself in a moment, firm hands around your hips to make sure you don’t slide down further than he intends to give you today. “You feel s’good, so wet and hot, I feel like I’ll melt.” Mingyu sighs, helping you ride him, his thumb rolling your clit in lazy circles. 

You muffle your cries as he moves your hips in a slow and steady pace, inevitably sliding down his cock, little by little. However, he doesn’t really notice it, lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing him so deliciously. “Gyu, harder,” you plead, a bit tired of this torturously slow pace. 

Mingyu complies almost immediately, pulling you even closer, his own hips bucking up to meet you halfway, while he continues to guide your movements. You moan out happily, arms winding around his neck. His thrusts are shallow, but the frenzied movements trigger more pleasure in you.

Eventually, he loses control over your movements, momentarily giving up against the fiery impulses running through his nerves. With all the lubrication between you two, you slide down as much as possible with nothing to restrict you. A string of incoherent words leave you, your body extremely giddy to get what you’ve wanted for so long. 

“Fuck, no, this isn’t working,” Mingyu finally regains his senses, groaning as the untouched parts of his cock are engulfed by your warmth. He swiftly pins you down on an empty side of the picnic blanket. “Bad, bad girl.” 

You squirm under him, whining while he pulls out of you, until only the tip is inside. “Now tell me, what should I do, now that you’ve broken our little deal.”

“Fuck me.” you whimper, your eyes teary by now. Mingyu tuts, shaking his head. You try your best to channel your pitiful, puppy dog eyes, ready to beg if that’s necessary.

“Such crude words from my sweet, little angel.” He sighs, “You’re really into testing my patience, aren’t you? Does it make you happy? Watching me lose my senses over your words?” 

“Don’t hold yourself back, please. I want to make you feel good too. Please, Gyu. Fuck me, make me yours, I don’t even care if people see or hear us anymore. Please.” Your voice is broken, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Mingyu swallows nervously.

“Fucking hell.” The growled expletive marks the end of whatever self-control shit he was on. With one hard thrust, he smoothly fills up your touch-starved pussy entirely, coaxing out a loud moan of relief from you. His right hand immediately covers your mouth. “You might not care about some rando catching us like this anymore but I’ll be damned if someone sees you like this.” 

Mingyu lets go of your wrists, putting his left hand on the small of your back to support your body. “Don’t you dare complain about how you can’t walk later. You brought this upon yourself, remember.” He nibbles on your earlobe teasingly before starting to move against you. His thrusts are on the rougher side, your stomach tightening as the pleasure starts to build-up. 

With your free hands, you reposition his palm covering your mouth, suckling on his fingers instead. In response, you feel his cock twitch so vividly in your pussy, a groan reverberating in his throat. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that?” 

Mingyu pounds into you in a frenzy, quite obsessed with the raw feeling of your spongy flesh gushing around his cock. You moan and cry around his fingers, clenching happily as you feel your release right around the corner. He also picks up his pace, grinding down onto your clit in the process. Your brain has lost all the critical thinking power, salty streaks running down your cheeks as you’re overwhelmed by the sensations.

You remove his fingers from your mouth, desperate to be heard. “‘m gonna come–” 

“Fuck, come for me, love, I’m gonna pull out,” Mingyu grunts, his pace faltering as his movements lose rhythm, inching closer to his own release.

“No, no— come in me, baby. Please. Don’t ruin my dress.” He has no idea what you are on about, but he’d be lying if he said that it doesn’t sound tempting.

“Princess, do you even know what you’re saying?” He still asks, praying that you come back to your senses, for both of your good.

“I want you to come in me.” You manage to blurt out before your body convulses as the orgasm hits, gummy walls squeezing his cock to a halt. Mingyu curses under his breath, putting his fingers back in your mouth before you can scream your lungs out. Soon enough, he also reaches his peak, the thick, milky white liquid filling up your pussy to the brim. 

“_____, fuck…” he whimpers, reveling in the newfound intimacy between you. You urge him to lay on top of you, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

“Gyu,” you whisper, “you mean so much to me.” Mingyu nuzzles your face adoringly, pressing butterfly kisses over your bare skin, wherever he can reach.

“And to me, you’re like the sun.” His silly words make you laugh.

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I’m like the earth orbiting around you, thriving because of your warmth and light?”

You flush at his words, beyond touched that he’d think of you in such a beautiful way. “You make me sound so insincere, Gyu.” Mingyu laughs at your pout, starting to get back up. 

“Yeah well, I still have to figure out what your flowers mean, remember?” He reaches for the packet of napkins lying nearby, sighing at the sight in front of his eyes.

“Yeah…” you trail off, “Do that once you’re home, okay?” He nods, seemingly distracted.

“I’m sorry love, I made such a mess.” 

“We.” 

“Hm?” 

“We made a mess. So don’t be sorry. I’ll help you clean up.” You offer him a smile, which he matches happily. 

Mingyu scrutinizes you one last time, making sure that you look presentable from head to toe. “Yeah, everything looks okay… except that your dress is all wrinkled…”

“I told you it’s fine, I’ll fix it up after a wash, don’t worry!” You reassure him, redoing your braid. “And please wash this outfit as soon as you get home, okay? I know it all dried up now, but still…” 

“I could say the same about your panties.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Yeah, but I doubt it’ll be wearable after today.” You sigh, checking yourself on your selfie camera. “C’mon, let’s go now. It’s afternoon already!” 

Mingyu hands you your basket, holding your free hand as you slowly take a few steps. “Are you sure you can walk?” 

“Yes, positive! I have to get home somehow.” You smile through a wince, making him shake his head. 

“Let’s go to my place. You can go back tomorrow morning after you’ve recovered from the pain. I’ll cook us dinner, help you take a bath, give you meds and cuddle you to sleep.” Mingyu offers, pushing off the bushes so that you guys can finally leave your little sanctuary. 

You both step out on the nearby trail, intertwining your fingers together back again. “Why do you always make it so hard to decline, Gyu?” He gives your hand a firm squeeze, winking at you playfully. 

“It’s a part of the package, baby.” His cocky chuckle infuriates you, but lord, is he right about that. 

This man might just be the end of you. But would you really mind it?

end of act one ♡ next

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 end notes ꒱

wahhh you made it to the end!! thank you so much for reading 🥹🫶🏼; i apologize if there are any mistakes in there, this is very roughly edited jdjfhfjhjff!! BUT i really hope that this was enjoyable and i was able to portray the lovebirds well 🤭! do let me know what you thought of this, please! reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated <333! you can also send feedback through asks if you’d prefer that! 💖

until next time!

p.s: i’m pretty new to caratblr and i’d be grateful if you guys could recommend me some blogs to follow 🥺... (you can recommend your own blog as well)!

[lokilysolbitch]

wait okay so. if you stop viewing adhd as a focus issue and frame it as a internal dopamine functions aren't working issue. and if you need dopamine to do things. then. instead of thinking how can i make myself focus. you can just think how do i get external dopamine sources to make my brain machine go.

im not focusing because im not getting my internal reward im biologically supposed to get. that's why im unmotivated. i brush my teeth and i get no internal sense of satisfaction. so now i don't want to brush my teeth. if i'm not getting an internal sense of satisfaction for doing things then most tasks feel worthless. which can look like or turn into depression.

but then i find one source or one task with a bunch of dopamine like a certain fidget or hobby (recently it's been diamond painting for me) and suddenly im fine again because my brain is no longer starving. suddenly i can focus on my lectures playing in the background when im getting little hits of external dopamine from putting diamonds in the right spot. im getting the sense of satisfaction that everyone else was already getting.

or like. one day im trying to read a textbook and the words are just. not getting into my brain. so i give up and play genshin for a bit. i get dopamine in my brain. i turn back to the textbook. and suddenly. i can read again. i read for a few minutes and i'm not comprehending it anymore. i play genshin for a few minutes and then turn back to the textbook. and then i can read again. again.

people have already been saying this but it really clicked yesterday when i was trying to read a textbook for a class i love bc it's connected to a special interest but i didn't like the current chapter topic. so i wasn't getting any dopamine from the content. and of course i wasn't getting any dopamine from the act of completing the task of reading. and i was trying to think of ways i needed to multitask to focus. but i noticed i kept switching from tiktok to reading which helped. like id watch some tiktoks and there would be like a mental feeling of "okay we're at 100%" and is just toss my phone and start reading. like i didn't have to tear myself away from it.

i was literally feeding my brain. and just stopped once i got full. like putting gas in the car.

that's why i only use things if they have pretty colors or some sort of pleasing sensory input. that's where my dopamines coming from. that's why a sticker chart and playing music while brushing my teeth helped so much. to give me the sense of satisfaction i wasn't getting from my own brain.

that's why giving myself the rewards at the end of tasks didn't always work. you can't reward a car with gas if the tank is empty. i needed the dopamine to start the tasks, and more dopamine intermittently to continue longer tasks.

anyways. i'm gonna stop holding off from doing fun shit until after i finish tasks. bc in hindsight i always did better work when i put the fun stuff first. and i'm gonna stop wasting time waiting for my brain car to go when the tank was empty the whole time.

i left mid post for a little bit and came back and i didn't proofread this and it's also unfinished but i'm posting it now bc. i have DID i don't member exactly what i was tryna say. and personally i'm not reading all that.

TLDR: stop treating adhd like it's mainly a focus issue. treat it like dopamine is an external resource and it acts as gas for your brain car. how can i focus better❌ what satisfying thing can i do to help my brain initiate/focus on this task✅