#at least in the ways that matters to them

[ggukivrse]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

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You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just�� hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

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[npookie0]

Rap Your Way To His Soul

In a world where hunters fight demons every day and try to keep the Honmoon strong with their songs, you are a demon different than any other - instead of stealing souls and working for Gwi Ma, you are a niche soloist rapper who found another way to not die from starvation and block his voice. One day, the world shifts and a new boys band appears our of thin air, a demon boy band. You tried to keep away from the conflict between Huntrix and the Saja Boys, until one day you've been paired with the boys band's rapper who discovered your secret. "But Gwi Ma never mentioned another demon being on surface…?" "Yeah? Well he never said that he'd build a boys band either."

Words: [ 2954 ]

Tropes: forced proximity, you help him discover something about himself

cws: scenes of fighting, spoilers for Kpop Demon Hunters

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So I'll give you a heads up for my idea about Baby's personality before you read it! To me Baby is a unbothered king basically, he doesn't really care (his face when they're at the signing with Huntrix) but he can also be a cunning bastard when he needs to be (Your Idol rap moment the faces he makes there, the way he's smirking at Huntrix when Saja Boys takes their leave) but since his band archetype is being the baby of the group (his name is literally Baby) so I will assume that he's the Maknae and is the youngest so he will also be childish in a way, please accept my interpretation of that guy

You were a niche rapper in the Korean music industry, sometimes you were invited to some variety shows, either doing some rap challenges, do things that were supposed to bring entertained to the viewer like trying to sing a popular song that didn't include any rap, or, rarely, had an opportunity to talk about yourself.

You enjoyed these moments, interacting with your fans, performing for them, even if there weren't that many people you were still excited to give them a chance to see you again and grow a bigger audience.

Even a demon like yourself was weak to the charm of happy fans.

Though, you would hardly call yourself a demon. Besides the patterns and abilities you used for special effects you weren't that demonic. Not after you found yourself on the surface at least.

At first, you were like any other demon, trying to devour human souls, you heard Gwi Ma, you felt shame and misery. Yet, after finding your love for music everything changed, you started your small rapper career, gained fans and most importantly of all, got your soul back. Thanks to regaining your soul you were able to stop feeding off the energy stealing souls gave you, instead you got energy from your fans singing your songs with you.

You knew about Huntrix and their identity as demon hunters so you avoided them at all costs, you didn't want to fight them and lose the life you built for yourself. Every time you were invited to an event for idols, no matter how tempted you were to go, if you knew that Huntrix would be there too you would make up an excuse to not go and politely refused the introductions.

Other than Huntrix, you didn't follow any news from the high ranked pop groups, so you were unaware of the Saja Boys blow up and their rivalry with the three hunters, to you they were a boys band that you didn't really care about.

So meeting one of them on a variety show was a surprise to say the least. Especially after you saw what he was.

But, let's start from the beginning.

You got a call from Play Games With Us, they invited you to take part in a new game they came up with "Rapper Wars", since you are a soloist rapper yourself you accepted their invitation.

"Hi Y/n! It's good to see you after so long!" The host greeted you when you entered the stage. Your fans screamed and clapped when they saw you, chanting your name.

"Hi everybody! It's good to see y'all after so long!" You replied, waving at your fans.

The TV crew fixed up your and a few others rappers' make up, while that was happening you looked around the stage. You knew all the rappers present there, with some you even made songs together.

You know all of them, except one. A guy with teal hair, wearing a pink baggy sweater, yellow beanie, skinny jeans and sneakers. He had a lollipop in his mouth, he had a thoughtless expression, like he didn't really care about being there. But where the lights turned on he suddenly became all sweet, sending hearts to the camera and smiling.

Sure, a lot of idols have two personas, that wasn't a shocker, but at least they pretended to be nice and sweet if the cameras were off too.

"Hello, hello! We hope you're excited because today we have prepared a special game for everyone!" Said one of the hosts.

The other host chimed in with a big beaming smile. "The game is "Rapper Wars!" But our favourite handsome host, what is the game about? You all are probably asking yourself and don't worry, we will explain it now!"

"Yes, yes, yes. Explanation time! So, as you guys can see we have all our favourite rappers; Chaeyoung from Twice..." The host introduced each guests, while camera pointed at them to smile and wave. "And finally we have our newest rap stage star, Baby Saja from Saja Boys and our beloved soloist Y/n!"

Baby? That's an.... interesting name....

"So, in our game these talented artists will make teams of two and will have to perform together, the duo who wins with all other contestants will perform a song they have to write together in the next episode of Play Games With Us!"

After some more explanation everyone started to pair up and soon you and the guy from Saja Boys were the only people left. You made your way over to him and outstretched your hand to him.

"Guess that we'll work together now." You said with a gentle smile. You had no reason to not like him so you could be friendly.

He looked at your hand and then at your face, he squeezed your hand. "Yeah." Was his only response. Well that was definitely a start.

You two were asked to sit down in one of the "rap thinking zone" areas that the hosts prepared for all of you.

When you two sat down you took a closer look at Baby and noticed a weird shift on his skin, you focused on his neck and then you saw them; the patterns.

The same patters you had. That guy's weird behaviour and name made sense now, he's a demon. But why would a demon be in a boys band? Were the rest of them demons too? Was it Gwi Ma's idea? What if they discover you too?

You were so lost in thought that you didn't realise that Baby was calling you until he started poking you with a pen. "Hey. Hey, hey! We have to win this, so work." He pointed at the papers in front of you.

"What? Oh. Yeah, right. Sorry." You coughed and picked up the papers filled with song lyrics.

You were glad that the demonic rapper wasn't really paying attention to you so he wouldn't notice the patterns you had to bear on your own skin. Maybe having your soul helped you seeming more human to the demon.

The two of you worked, silently rapping the lines you assigned to each other. You had to admit that for a demon he was pretty good, even better than most people you worked with before.

"Do you want to perform with a choreography or just focus on rapping?" You asked.

"I don't really care." He had a similar reply to most questions you asked. You started to notice that he was lacking in dealing with interactions. Sure, maybe he was a good rapper and had some acting skills, he barely spoke and couldn't keep up the sweet act all the time. It was almost funny to look at.

"Now Baby and Y/n will be fighting Syngwon and Joel! Let's see who wins!" The host annouced and all lights turned at you, Baby and your opponents.

You shared glances with Baby, who was still unaware of your secret, and the performance began.

You felt energy fill you when the show's fans joined in, chanting and singing. You didn't pay attention to anything other than the feeling of freedom and love that filled you. You performed perfectly, interacting with the fans and encouraging them to join in.

You won. This round and then five more. You won the event.

You were filled with excitement to the brim, a mix of your own feelings and the emotions you absorbed from the fans. It felt great, you didn't even care about the weird looks Baby gave you when you stood together on the stage and said goodbye to the viewers.

"Didn't know that demons walked so freely amongst humans." You stopped in your tracks when you heard an ominous and monotone voice coming from behind you.

You were on your way back home, groceries in your hand. You slowly turned around and there he was, Baby in his full glory. Instead of cute clothes he was wearing black robes and a gat, his hair was darker, his skin was greyshly-blue with darker patterns all over it and his eyes, piercing deep into your own, were yellow. He looked similar to how you looked in your demon form.

"You didn't have to sneak up to me, y'know?" You groaned. "So, you found me out, huh?"

He smirked, circling a lollipop in his hand. "Wasn't at all hard, I saw the souls that shared their energy with you, I saw your patterns." He pushed himself of the wall and teleported right in front of you. "it's really interesting."

"What is?" You looked at him, unimpressed with his confidence.

"Y'know," he took your hand in his and your patterns showed, "the fact that a demon has a music career and doesn't eat souls." He raised an eyebrow. "Why's that Gwi Ma didn't receive any soul."

"I don't work for the tragic king of demons." You shrugged and started walking, if he wanted to talk to you he could follow you.

"Wait, what?" He asked confused, going after you.

"That. I don't do anything for Gwi Ma, I don't send him souls, I don't hear him. He doesn't know that I'm here."

He chuckled, amused by your words. "Don't joke around, we all hear Gwi Ma, it's impossible not to hear him!"

You turned to him and sighed. "Yeah? Guess I'm a human then."

Your pace fastened suddenly and teleported away from him, creating a longer distance with you.

Baby caught up to you and grabbed you by your wrist. "How did you... how did you get your soul back?" He suddenly sounded serious, there was a tinge of hope in his eyes.

You looked at his hand holding your wrist and pulled it away from his embrace. "I can tell you about it later. We have to work on a song together anyway, so why not figure each other out while we do that. hm?"

"Hah, you could rival Mystery with your secrecy. Sure, sure, demon soloist, I'll see you." He saluted you before teleporting away.

You shook your head and made your way back to your apartament. Looks like you've got yourself a very interesting artist to work with.

"So, what's the deal with you and the cute appearance?" You asked once you and Baby were in your recording studio. It was secluded so no one would hear your demon related discussion and you knew it well enough to be safe if he tried anything.

Baby looked at you from over the lyrics you were writing. "Jinu came up with the whole boys band idea, we're supposed to steal the hunters' fans and destroy the Honmoon." He shrugged.

"Destroy Honmood to feed the dying king?"

"Something like that, yeah. I don't really care, I just want to get a reward for suffering like this."

You chuckled. "Really, what a terrible fate you must be living. Wearing cute clothes and beign adored by all. What a nightmare."

Baby looked offended with your reply, just scoffed and suddenly was very eager to work on the lyrics.

"I'm so glad that this whole suffering is done for me, no more Gwi Ma, no more killing humans."

"About that, how do you not starve?"

"Hm? Oh, that." You leaned back in your chair. "Basically it's about people willingly sharing their love with me, if they share it, it flows into me like river water into the sea and that's my main source of energy."

"So that's why you went for music huh?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of?" He titled his head, confused.

"Yeah, kind of. I love singing, always did, even with my broken demon voice. I love the adoration I receive and the fans. This is why I'm still stuck in Korea even if I know that Huntrix could find me at any moment." You looked at him. "You don't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The happiness coming from love. Your fans love you, adore you."

Baby looked at you after hearing your words. He took some time to answer. "They're humans. I eat their souls and that's what matters."

"You don't believe that."

"I do!" He shouted. "I know what I believe, and humans are nothing but food to me. I sing to steal their souls."

"Whatever makes you happier, Baby Saja." You looked at the papers in front of you. "What if... I take you out tomorrow?"

"Huh? What?"

You ignored his question. "Do you like amusement parks?"

"..." He looked away. "I never was to an amusement park."

You perked up after hearing his answer. You took him by his hand and he jumped up in his chair. "Well, you'll be in one tomorrow! Cancel all your evil-world-domination plans, cause we'll be having lots of fun." You smiled beamingly and you could swear that you had a tinge of smile on Baby's face.

The following way was truly magical. You took Baby to your favourite amusement park and the fun started when you barely stepped through the main gates. Fans surrounded the two of you, asking for pictures, autographs, declaring their love and so on. You glanced at Baby between every fan interaction and you could tell that even if he felt a slight discomfort, overall he had fun. He eagerly signed every picture and even laughed when his fans recreated his famous "goo goo ga ga" from his first appearance in the variety show.

After the first big wave of fans you took him to a roller coaster and many other attractions. For you, they were somethings you already did so you had more occasions to pay attention to the growing kpop star next to you. And saying that he had was an understatement. Shooting targets, bumper cars, even the Ferris wheel.

You saw the light in his eyes, the excitement and pure emotions. He didn't look like a gloomy, tired of everything demon like the first time you met him. He was actually interested in the attraction he took part in.

You took a break on a bench before your last surprise stop. A corndog in your hand while Baby had a giant pink cotton candy. He swayed his legs back and forth as he pulled away pieces of the sweet snack and ate them.

"Enjoying yourself?" You asked, reaching your hand to wipe a piece of cotton candy from the man's cheek. He nodded energetically, his eyes glowing. "Didn't know you had such a sweet tooth." You chuckled.

You waited until the two of you were done eating and pulled him off the bench. "C'mon! There's one more place I want to show you." You rushed him and forced him to follow behind you as you led him through the crowded amusement park.

You reached it, the aquarium. You were wondering if taking him there was really that good of an idea since he seemed to like the adrenaline quickening attractions more, but your worries were washed away when you saw him glued to the glass and gently poking it with his finger while a fish tried to catch his finger. He looked like a kid who saw real fishes for the first time.

You were forced to hold his hand while you walked through the building or he'd get lost while he looks at sharks or something. You didn't really talk, Baby was busy watching and chasing fish - not really caring if he forced you to chase them with him. And you were watching him, seeing the slight shifts in his aura. He felt less hostile and negative than he did before, maybe it wasn't a big chance, but you saw potential in him.

You saw a chance for your new companion to find freedom.

"Hey, Y/n?" He asked suddenly when the two of you stood in the middle of the biggest room in the whole aquarium.

"Hm?" You hummed in response, looking at a hoard of jellyfishes swimming by.

"How does it feel... to not hear him?"

You turned around, looking at the man who's expression was now stiff and serious.

"Ah, Gwi Ma." You turned back to the jellyfishes and pointed at them. "I feel like them. Unbothered, just swimming by everything. They know that they won't be safe forever, but they live by present not future." You smiled and looked back at him. "That's how it's for me. I know that I'm stil a demon and the hunters may not be forgiving even if I wish they would, but it doesn't matter to me. I have the things I love and the people who love me, that's what I live by now and I know that there's no demon king who can take that away."

Baby didn't answer, he looked at his hand holding yours and...

There was a glow, it was slight, weak, barely there.

The blue glow of his soul.

It was warm, gentle, but still had some sharp corners.

It seemed like he didn't notice that, but maybe it was for the better. You wanted to see the progress yourself, for him to not feel terrified or pushed to do more or less, to maintain or reject that soul that came back to him.

"We should get back, we have a song to make." You squeezed his hand.

He pouted. "But it's so fun here."

"We can return after our performance, you big kid."

"Pfft, okay." He scoffed.

"I've got an idea for the title." You said when you left the amusement park.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we'll call it; Freedom."

Maybe it wasn't a very original idea, but in your mind it created a perfect image of what Baby could get if he and hid friends tried hard enough to accept their mistakes instead of living in endless misery because of them.

Okay my first ever Baby x reader fic done! Writing it was hard but I hope that you guys like it! The next ones will be better I swear <3 I just need to get a better hang on writing these handsome demon boys

See you my dear Kpop Demon Hunters fans

Nate <3

[distuff]

Demon Boys' and Sharing

Featuring: : Jinu Saja, Abs Saja, Mystery Saja, Romance Saja, Baby Saja Reader: gender neutral

📍Requests

If ya enjoyed yourself and ya have some ideas for prompt please don't hesitate to send me "Ask" with your prompt and which Demon boy you want to see appear in the prompt)

_ _ _ _ _

Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ Jinu would argue to the demon realm and back that he was not possessive of what was his... maybe just a bit. But no one, and he means no one, had the proof of this besides the Magpie and the Tiger - and both swore to secrecy. He even made them sign non-disclosure agreements, since he didn't trust the damn bird.

🐦‍⬛ However, hypothetically, if someone from the guys were to, let's say, try and pet his Tiger... Jinu really didn't know where the demonic flame came from: "You know how moody Gwi-Ma can be," he would say with an 'innocent' smile, which was always met with unimpressed expressions from the guys.

🐦‍⬛ Safe to say, when Jinu introduced you to the others with a subtle threat that regarded your safety, the guys watched with unimpressed gazes as Jinu steered you to his room - neither feeling the need to warn you about Jinu's possessive nature. Too curious to see what their 'leader' would do once you touched the Tiger.

It was late afternoon when you and Jinu were resting on the couch in the guys' living room - you against Jinu's chest as he went through the latest notes of their song belonging to their newer album, Abby, Romance, and Baby all playing UNO on the kitchen counter - when it happened. You’d dated Jinu over a month now, taking the news of him and the others being demons as well as any human - by trying to run away, no matter how good-looking he was; self-preservation was strong. You got over it like any healthy couple would, calling it a bumpy road in your relationship that strengthened it more. So, seeing the neon-blue Tiger with large eyes that seemed to stare endlessly at you - and looked about ready for the eyes to bulge out - step, or rather prowl, very slowly towards you, you both felt a bit of the natural fear, but also— "Awwweee!!" You immediately sat up with glittering eyes - ignoring the way the trio at the counter snapped their heads towards you, eagerly awaiting Jinu's reaction - as you went and let the Tiger smell your hand. The Tiger, however, just slowly moved its head down, staring at the hand unblinkingly before it slowly bumped it and, after a second, started to purr without moving its head. Feeling a little creeped out but still filled with the cuteness, you started carefully petting it, marvelling at the softness. The trio's mouths dropped as they stared at how the Tiger was now attempting to crawl onto you, with Jinu just continuing to read through his notebook with laser focus, not minding that you - and now the large cat - were occupying his lap. "Fucking bullshit," Baby muttered before putting his lollipop back into his mouth and turning to the game.

Abs Saja

💪 Abby was the least possessive out of the five of them. Unlike the others, he reacted to none of your advances. You took a piece of the street food he bought? Go at it! You want more? You took his clothes? It's fine - he has more! You snatched his phone? He doesn't even know how to work with it! Want to teach him? Abby was attached to nothing you asked for and didn't consider anything that you took from him his.

💪 At least, that’s what it looks like until you decided to do laundry day. Having been dating for a month, you basically lived with the others in their shared apartment, where it was normal for yours and Abby's clothes to be just dumped together in one laundry basket and be done with - besides the underwear, of course. You were not that close... yet.

💪 So, imagine Abby’s surprise when he walked into his room and saw you holding what once was a gently woven bracelet that he had kept with him from his era before he was taken to the demon realm and chained by Gwi-Ma, now innocently being held in your hands - all destroyed.

💪 You looked confused when you glanced at him before your eyes widened. Abby didn’t know what he looked like as he silently walked towards you. He could only focus on holding onto the boiling anger that was fighting to seep through.

💪 Abby was silent when you gently handed him what once was his bracelet, gifted to him for 'luck'. He stayed silent when you walked past him, having to feel the tension seeping from him. He stayed silent once you gently shut the door behind yourself.

💪 Only then did Abby allow himself to let his demonic form take over, as his hands burned - setting the useless piece of strings on fire, leaving only a few ashes in his hands that easily fell down as he opened his palm, eyes cold as he watched it fall on the carpet below.

A few days had passed with radio silence between you and him. Abby didn’t know what to text you, what to tell you, what to do if he saw you - so, guessed it was a good thing you two had some space between each other. At least that was what Mystery was telling him while Abby was being held by the other three as he was currently trying to crawl towards the entrance door to go and track you. Demon senses be finally useful for other shit than smelling the lust on his fans or feeling itchy when wearing nothing but silk. "For the love of - stop squirming!" Jinu bit at him as he sat on his back together with Romance, while Baby was trying - and failing - dragging him back by his legs. "The pain, the sorrow, the tragedy!" Romance wailed as he placed his hand on his forehead dramatically, leaning back before he blinked and looked at Mystery with a deadpan expression, "What happened again?" he asked, all but disinterested. Before Mystery could answer, the entrance door clicked open, freezing the five of them in place and making the Tiger slowly tilt his head, causing the Magpie to squawk from nearly falling. When Abby saw you walking in with hesitation but a sense of determination - as you seemed to be clutching something to your chest - Abby all but easily got up, throwing down Romance and Jinu who flailed as they fell on the floor, glaring nastily at Abby, who ignored all of them as he all but sprinted towards you. Before you could react, you were suspended in the air as Abby twirled you with a large grin before gently setting you down and hugging you to his chest, nuzzling into your hair and taking in your sweet and savoury scent. The two of you ignored the guys shuffling and Baby’s gagging noise as they walked further into the apartment, leaving the two of you. After a moment, though, you tried to get out - which Abby was not making easier. "Abby, hold up—I... I have something for you..." you said, trailing off a bit, but it was enough to pique Abby's curiosity. Letting you go, Abby blinked down at you as you seemed to be gathering courage before you finally presented to him what you were holding to your chest. It was a messy replica of the bracelet you’d destroyed. With steady hands, Abby took it, inspecting it as you went on about how it took longer than you thought, how you paid for a course that taught this, and how you didn’t know it was from such a late era. "I mean, I just thought it was something you’d made when you were little," you chuckled sheepishly, "I didn’t know it was this old way of tying knots that was for protection—huh?" You stopped talking - cut off by the sudden hug from Abby. After a moment, you hugged him back as he nuzzled into your neck. Putting his hand on the back of your head, he pressed you further as he stared boredly at the bracelet in his hand with eyes seeping with glowing yellow and slitting a bit. A sharp grin made its way onto his face as he clutched the useless jewellery. Who cares about that shit anyway? With the painful distance you put him through, Abby realised he had something better than some bracelet. You. You were his - and he would die before he let someone destroy you, accidentally or not. You were Abby’s new ‘lucky charm’.

Mystery Saja

🐶 For such a silent being, Mystery wasn't surprised when the others thought he was... calm. Or rather, that he was reasonable. Human language was so complicated...

🐶 Mystery just chose to use his energy wisely. Teasing? Celebrating? The chaotic laughter the guys sometimes broke into in the middle of planning HUNTER/X's downfall? His desperate... puppies? What was the word Jinu said to call them— Ah... "Fans." All these, Mystery labelled as "Waste of energy," while everyone else labelled him as "Cool and Collected." ...Haaah.

🐶 It was Baby who first saw him snap. Mystery thought it was useful that the youngest of the demons saw him, as Baby was blunt to his very core and wouldn't make stuff up, unlike Romance or Abs. But he was gossipy enough to say it to others, unlike Jinu, who would keep it to himself.

🐶 It was only the two of them, as the other three were asked to join some body contest among other boybands, not needing all five of them. Baby was openly bored, and Mystery was openly ignoring him. That is, until Baby dragged himself to his bookshelf - neatly organised by genre and book title - and was about to pluck one from the Dark Noir section.

🐶 The only thing that saved the other one from having his fingers bitten off was his abnormal reflexes, as he sidestepped with bulging eyes, hand moving up and fingers twisting into sharp claws aimed at the danger - before Baby jerked, locking his demonic eyes with Mystery’s glowing ones peering up at him over his fringe. They were slitted horizontally, unlike the other demons, whose eyes slit vertically.

🐶 Mystery was crouched, a low growl vibrating from his chest as Baby watched the two upper canines grow, twisting out from his lips. There was a silence before Baby took a step back and relaxed his hand, his eyes seeping into dark steel blue as he scoffed - making Mystery ease and let his human form take over once more as he slowly rose.

🐶 Baby gave him a once-over before he huffed, turning to leave and flipping him off with his back to him. Mystery watched over his bangs before calmly returning to the couch to continue reading.

Baby, being the unfortunate victim, the young demon was all but traumatised by his senior, staying clear of that bookshelf from that day onwards. So... imagine the younger’s surprise as he slowly ate the disgusting cereal that tasted like wheat with milk he wanted to throw out - but couldn’t, because you, a human Mystery had taken as a pet, were here. Baby couldn’t even turn and glare at you as you were doing Gwi-Ma knows what, while Mystery sat near you reading - releasing the oppressive aura the guys found he had been holding back when you first showed up. Everything was relatively peaceful until you started to whine about having nothing to read. Mystery tilted his head, attention focused on you with piercing eyes through the thick fringe that Jinu said should be kept hidden for their bright intensity. He may have messed up a bit on the transformation he guessed. Mystery rested his hand with the book on his lap so you would see he was attentive to you, listening as you explained how you’d tried reading all sorts of books - even fics! - but none had caught your interest. He listened further as you described what sort of book you felt like reading and, without hesitation, he answered in a steady voice, "The twelfth row from the top - use the stepping stairs over there," he pointed first at his bookshelf, then at the hidden wooden stairs at the very end, before continuing - neither of you paying attention to the choking noises coming from Baby in the kitchen - "In the ‘O’ section, the book with the deep blue spine and silver letters. That one should be good for you." Mystery felt his hand twitch as you beamed at him, brushing his side strands - and thus brushing his cheek - with your gentle hand. You thanked him as you stood up and went to search for his book he’d described, all the while watching you sort through his bookshelf. Seeing all that belonged to him so close to one another made him roll his shoulders, and he straightened - releasing more of his demonic energy from how pleased he felt - followed by the sound of something, or someone, hitting the floor in the background. Your head finally snapped towards the sound, and with widened eyes you called out, "Oh my God, Baby!" All the while, Mystery only kept his eyes on you - his hair parting as he followed your hurried footsteps to look at the younger, revealing one of his eyes with a horizontal slit that expanded into a black moon.

Romance Saja

🌹 Romance was openly possessive. He saw no shame in protecting what was his. This also kept him away from the unnecessary stressful experiences where he would have to threaten one of the guys if they tried taking something of his.

🌹 It was just that easy! Romance always shook his head at the others' antics when one took or touched something of another, leaning away when he saw a wrinkle appear on one of their foreheads - prepping himself that day for some ‘spa time’ for himself and whichever member had such an imperfection on his face.

🌹 So, when you caught his attention and began to... date him - was that the new term that humans called the betrothal phase in the modern world? Jinu did say something on this topic, but Romance only remembers fixing his hair so it wouldn’t lose volume. ...Where was he...

🌹 Ah! Him, with you.

So when you started to become part of his routine and thus his life, you really believed you were getting any ‘special treatment,’ darling?

Flushed skin was one of Romance’s favourite sights, he thought, as he trailed a clawed finger over the bite marks on the back of your shoulder and arm, until he laced your fingers together and brought them to his lips - nibbling carefully with the set of sharp teeth that were a far cry from those in his full demon form. What was the point of hiding his true nature from you when you began dating, when he knew showing it would lead him exactly where the two of you were now? The two of you snuggling, your back against his chest, and coming down from such a satisfying moment. That is, until you began to stir - and Romance saw no reason not to let you go, curious to see what you were trying to do. Kiss him? Be the one to hold him? Another round, perhaps? Seems like neither, as he watched you, like a curious cat, rise. Still on his bed, you moved to the edge, with Romance following to see what you wanted to— A deep growl resonated through his room, freezing you as you reached down to take the shirt he wore today - the one you took off him before falling under his masterful hands that reshaped you each time. With owlishly wide eyes, you turned to him as he watched you with narrowed ones, no doubt dark carmine now overtaken by glowing gold and slitted pupils. His mouth was partly open, flashing his sharper teeth as his clawed hands dug into the duvet. He only stopped growling when you finally got the message and moved away. He huffed, watching as fear gave way to what could only be described as a mix of disappointment and hesitation on your face. Your eyes were turned downward, which Romance did not like. Gently, he placed a clawed finger under your chin and brought it up, his nose barely brushing yours as his golden eyes glowed, the slits expanding a bit as you locked eyes with him - his grin sharpening dangerously. “Silly human~” he cooed, brushing your cheek and placing his hand below your ear as he leaned forward, lips brushing yours as he spoke, "Can’t remember me telling you not to touch what is mine?" he all but growled the last word before devouring you that night once more. A few weeks after, Romance could still sense some longing from you. He didn’t understand the need for humans these days to share their clothes with their other half, but oh well… so be it. On that day, he went and bought you two matching sets of clothes. Teasingly dangling them in front of you, Romance told himself this set would be the first and the last. However, when you squealed and all but jumped on him - hooking your legs around his midsection before jumping off, grabbing your part of the set, and running into his room to change - only to come back in the colours he chose for you, Romance all but started cataloguing all the types of clothing you’d need. Romance still didn’t understand the notion of sharing clothes with your partner - dare he say humans were foolish in this day and age - as seeing you in the clothes he picked for you made him feel more like he claimed you than you wearing what was his.

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby could give two shits about the guys taking something of his. Jinu wanted to use his hairbrush? Go wild. Jinu should make sure he wouldn’t find a strand of black hair on it, though. Otherwise, Baby would plug the iron-pointed teeth of the brush and perfectly align it on Jinu’s mattress in a way he wouldn’t notice until bedtime.

🍼 Romance dressing him up and throwing out the clothes he bought for him? Hands raised - Baby would listen, not really caring as long as Romance left him alone for the rest of the day.

🍼 Abs lost another toothbrush? Here. But Baby wasn’t responsible for the spicy taste it had when he handed it to the tall demon. And Mystery wanting the cookie one of the braindead humans�� cough, fans, gifted him with yet another baby bottle? ...Here. He’d give it, as long as Mystery got rid of that cursed bottle.

🍼 So no. Baby was not possessive, materialistic, territorial, or whatever other fancy word humans decided to use to describe the simple need to keep their deluded autonomy. Baby had none of that. He knew who and what he was - he didn’t need anything to prove it.

🍼 That was until you came into the picture. You were no different from the other humans - just another soul for Gwi-Ma to consume... or at least in the beginning. The closer you got, the more Baby wanted to keep your vibrant soul all for himself. They were allowed by their King to eat a few of the souls themselves, after all... not that you needed to know. Knowing he was a demon was enough for you - a selfish decision that allowed him to ease up some of the illusion and harness more energy, as well as be with you.

🍼 However, as a human once himself - and not that long ago turned demon too - Baby should have remembered humans were far too greedy~

It was just the two of you, the others having gone out, and since you refused to tag along, why should Baby bother? He was resting between your legs, sucking on a lollipop, watching some shitty story on that slim box Jinu called the “TV” - and the story a “movie with actors” - while you were doing your own thing. Baby didn’t move much when you stood up, telling him you needed some sugar to keep going. He hummed as he sucked on the lollipop, imagining it was the bitter-sweet taste of a human soul instead of the pungent medicine - sweet devotion and bitter fear - just like he liked it. He busied himself by commenting on the movie and how badly the humans played their part - until he suddenly stopped, mouth parted, the lollipop hanging loosely from his lips. His eyes widened in sharp alertness as his canines lengthened, easily cracking the candy between his teeth as his jaw snapped shut. His ears strained as he heard the faint sound of the glass cap being moved. Within seconds, Baby had your chest pressed against the kitchen counter, his own chest firm against your back, one hand gripping your wrist - the one holding the glass lid from the jar that held multiple lollipops. Even if Baby’s grip bruised, your fear of what he might do if the glass cap broke was stronger, and you didn’t let go. You saw Baby’s other hand - claws extended - near your face, as he leaned over, growling warningly into your ear, the vibration in his chest trailing down your spine. “Drop… it,” Baby growled, his already deep voice dipping lower, causing you to shut your eyes and obey. But instead of a shattering sound, your wrist was released. Cold air hit your flushed skin, and the second Baby’s chest moved away from your back, you immediately straightened and backed away - putting distance between yourself and the man- demon. You held your slightly burned wrist in your other hand, chest rising and falling, watching as Baby carefully placed the cap back onto the jar. Before he could turn, you followed your instincts and sprinted out of the guys’ apartment, praying he wouldn’t follow - needing time to process what had happened. Baby was not impressed. Three whole days without your attention. Instead, it was Romance, Abs, Mystery, Jinu - damn, even the stupid-looking chicken with that cat got your affection. All but him. He was not pouting, fuck you. How dare you still come to their apartment and ignore him - and for what? For him telling you - politely, mind you - to keep your hands off what was his? Baby’s glare hardened as he stood in the kitchen behind the bar counter, but you were too busy petting Jinu’s creepy cat that he’d somehow found down in the demon realm. Baby huffed when, instead of your gaze, he met the tiger’s unblinking stare - one that seemed to pierce through his hollowed chest. He looked away, eyes landing on the stupid jar that caused all of this. Fucking petty human, he growled internally, stepping forward and ignoring the hollow ache tugging him towards you - the urge to jump on you and demand why, why, whywhywhy! Instead, Baby grumbled as he walked over and snatched the cursed glass jar from its place, turning towards the living room.

Once his shadow fell over you, you froze - which made Baby frown. It was becoming painfully clear you weren’t ignoring him because of the jar - and that made him want to both shatter the jar in his hands and fall to his knees to rip his hair out, trying to understand what he did wrong when nothing he did had felt wrong to him. But instead, Baby slowly crouched down, head bowed, eyes staring at the lollipops in the jar. With a steady voice, he spoke. “Here,” he said simply, holding the jar out to your back. He didn’t know what expression you wore, but he knew you hadn’t moved. Still, he remained in place, having no other idea how to show that he meant no harm - that he was… “Mianhae…” he said, instead of just thinking it, his voice quiet. Baby started to grit his teeth, embarrassed at the slip, until he felt your fingers - warm and gentle - wrap around his where they held the jar. His head snapped up, eyes wide and doe-like, meeting your soft gaze - and in that moment, he straightened a little, like a sunflower stretching toward the sun’s first beam of light after a long, cold night. Baby was not possessive, materialistic, or territorial - or any other fancy term. But… He recognised attachment. The kind he felt towards the others, towards the sweets on sticks he enjoyed from the human world - even if they did taste awful - and most of all, towards you. So, when you suddenly withdrew from him, it felt like a piece of himself had gone with you. As you happily enjoyed one of his lollipops - after agreeing that you could take one only after asking - Baby rested his head on your shoulder like a pillow, while the others were in their rooms or out - alive, judging from the demonic waves subtly wafting in between the honmoon. Baby nuzzled deeper into your neck, feeling your soul’s steady thrum, and comfortably sank into the realisation that- You were now part of him, too.

[what-username-where]

I still have never started a relationship without being asked out BY someone, and then not believing them until they repeatedly tell me that yes they ARE actually serious

and then I spend the entire time thinking oh god oh fuck when is the other shoe gonna drop when are they gonna start laughing at me for being so gullible to believe they actually liked me and reveal this was all an elaborate prank the entire time or that they just found me useful enough to put up with and play along so I'd keep doing things for them

Which unfortunately the only people who ever asked me out were a pedo, an entitled manipulative self centered emotional abuser, and a wildly out of control mentally ill asshole

All of whom I got incredibly attached to and planned on marrying and building my entire life around because at least having someone to indulge my highly romantic sappy touchy self would be better than just yearning from the sidelines my whole life and watching other people get things I'd dreamed about being able to have but never thought would actually be possible for me

because there was something innately wrong with me that other people saw but I didn't and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't fix it or even identify the problem

so I had to give up everything I possibly could give in order to make myself worth putting up with for other people and if I didn't I would spend the rest of my life isolated and alone because no one would want to be around me unless I was of sufficient benefit and service to them

Needless to say none of my exes helped that feeling at all

I still struggle deeply with it and have slowly come to accept that my friends are here because they genuinely enjoy me

but I still have the intense problems around romance and romantic relationships and feeling like the only way I'll ever have something close to what I want is by doing it myself quite literally and relying on my system for it

which while being amazing and wonderful and I love my system so much it still has some things that are physically impossible to do and thus leaves me with a longing just the same, whether that's a longing for another body for them to inhabit or longing for another person to be romantically interested in me both of which feel equally impossible

because no other person could possibly want to be anything romantic with me without either not knowing what they're getting into and later wanting to back out or wanting to take advantage of me because they know I'll stick around serving them a feast if they toss a breadcrumb my way once in a while

Which no amount of logic and comforting and repeating positive phrases and reassuring myself "I don't need a romantic relationship to be fulfilled as a person and that's a really toxic attitude to have" has ever really made go away despite my best efforts and years of therapy both professional and self guided

Man if you did that bullshit as a kid where you fake asked someone out to embarrass them or said your friend liked them I hope that shit haunts you somewhere inside now. I hope you know that never leaves the person you did that too. I've been out of school for 8 blessed fucking years and I still do not believe people when they say they like me or are attracted to me. Doing that shit straight up makes you a bad person. You completely destroy someone's ability to perceive themselves as loveable.

[madwcman]

paring: arranged husband! bruce wayne x reader

wc: 1k | tw: smut | MNDI 18+ | a/n at end!

you huff and puff as you walk through the front door, bags in hand from shopping. you loved shopping, loved it more when you figured out it pissed off your husband. it’s not that you hated your husband, you just wanted to piss him off. you were in an arranged marriage with bruce wayne. a marriage of convenience. though you’re not sure if it was actually convenient for you. maybe convenient for bruce and your family.

sighing to another day of an empty house. bruce usually worked all day and late into the night. keeping a distance from you. it’s been this way since you first met. you pegged bruce’s behavior for simply hating you. or at least disliking you. it didn’t really matter, he just wasn’t interested in you. which is fine. who cares? definitely not you. tossing the keys onto a side table, you grab your shopping bags and pump your legs up the staircase, walking up to the bedroom.

placing your hand onto the doorknob to the closed bedroom door your eyebrows furrow. hearing heavy grunts and rough curse words through the eerily silent manor catches you off guard. bruce was home. your eyebrows shooting up, you hear your name from his lips, his tone rough and breathless.

you should leave him alone. but you were curious, he was home early and he was grunting your name. squeezing your eyes shut, you grab the door knob and swing the door open. opening your eyes you internally scream. there he was in all his glory. your husband, sitting at the head of the bed. on his side, naked. you drop your shopping bags.

it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing. your eyes bulged larger.

lifting his head up, his eyes glancing to your shocked expression then to the multiple shopping bags at your feet, then back to your face. eyes heated. he raises an eyebrow up at you. “shopping, again?”

“um, yeah.” shifting from foot to foot, you stand in the doorway. uncomfortable with how calm and unaffected he was by this. “you have a shopping problem.” he mutters.

shrugging your shoulders, you keep your eyes on his, not daring to take another glance at his naked muscular form. “come in. shut the door.”

you do as he says, you step into the bedroom and shut the door behind you. your thighs clench as you stand at the end of the bed, your eyes wandering on their own. you really couldn’t help it. bruce was just so much bigger, muscular than you. it did something to you.

leaning against the headboard, bruce gives you a bored look as you stand in front of him. eyes still wide as you look over his nude body. bruce wayne has always been known for being attractive. you found him attractive too, but obviously kept your distance knowing he hated you. but seeing him like this, exposed out, made your body shiver and achy. “are you just going to stand there and watch?” he goes on, gently stroking his dick. his eyes on you. “or are you going to be useful?”

you can feel your neck heat up due to what he’s asking you. slightly turned on and a bit mortified by this, you step closer to your side of the bed. “what do you want me to do?” you mumble, flustered as you crawl into bed next to him.

twisting his body, bruce looks at you with hazy eyes, heat burning in them. glancing down at your lips then back into your eyes. he leans in, his lips brush against yours. “just let me use that pretty mouth.” he presses a few soft pecks to your lips. it shocks you for a moment, he hasn’t kissed you since your wedding. sucking in a breath you simply nod. craving for any type of touch and affection from bruce. you’ve been starving for it for too long.

pulling away, one hand cups your face, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “so pretty, sweetheart.” he whispers. his lips tick up as his other hand grabs the back of your head, a bit too hard and leads your mouth to his cock.

your lips close around him, his large palm gripping your head. bobbing it to the pace he wants. “be good for your husband,”bruce grunts, breathing through his nose. “and take it all.” his grip tightens against the back of your head as he pushes you further, using your mouth as his own personal toy. his pace is fast and rough. not caring that it burns a bit, not caring that your eyes are watering.

having the need to grip onto something. your hand finds its way to his thigh, your nails dig into his skin, causing him to groan. “tap if it’s too much, okay?” he murmurs. dragging your head up and down. “fuck, do you know how many times i’ve thought of this?”

what? your eyebrows furrow in confusion, so caught off. you hum, trying to tell him no. you know his question was most likely rhetorical, but you answered. “how many times i dreamt of you like this? listening to everything i say.”

“taking my cock however i want you to.” he grunts, your tongue swirls around him as he pushes you further, making sure you take all of his cock in your mouth.

he’s harsh, he’s mean. and it feels so good, as he comes in your mouth. his fingers gripping your head so tight. making sure you stay in place. his thighs tense as he struggles to breathe. “swallow, slut.”

you do as he says, you swallow even when it’s hard to breathe, you just feel the need to please your husband. pulling you off, you’re face to face with bruce. your breath heavy as your eyes trail over bruce’s face. his hard blue eyes narrow in your face, his voice still harsh. “come here.”

he smashes his lips to yours. there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. it’s rough and fast. his tongue thrust into your parted lips. taking control of your mouth however he wants to. not caring how your mouth still tastes of him. he pulls away, his rough calloused hand grips your jaw tight, his cold stare softens when he stares at your swollen lips and flustered state.

“you did good.” he mumbles as he leans in again.

a/n: i might write a part two, if anyone wants it!

[your-bait-and-swich]

Random Date Everything characters NSFW headcanons

Characters featured: Hector, Parker, Lux, Dunk

Ageless/minors DNI

Hector

His favorite part of sex is not actually the sex itself it's the foreplay before anything.

He loves to tease your body by gently moving his hands around your body, and soft kissing anywhere he can like it's some sort of worship. He tries his best to make you squirm and relishes it

This might be a surprise, but most times he doesn't like being a bottom yet he doesn't like to be a dominant top either. He's definitely a soft top wanting you taking the lead, and tell him how to please you

That's not to say that he minds being a bottom but he prefers to help you

Definitely not avoid to be kinky specially if his God wants it. He loves doing anything and everything he can to please you

Except for pain and degrading. He would never even let himself insult you let alone hurt you. the most he'll do is biting and very light choking. Phantom choking basically.

He's actually very silent during sex, and masturbating. The vents aren't really that private you know

Most you'll hear in sex is small panting, and whines but he'll give you more noise if you request

Probably goes without saying, but he loves when you're somewhat demanding. Don't be too cruel about it, but he does love someone that knows what they want

He also wants to know he's doing well. Please praise him for anything he does right for communication sake, and his praise kink

He love's adding temperature play anyway he can to your love making

If you were cold/hot he would make purposeful effort to make his body the opposite so when he touches you, you would feel all the more

Subtly raise the heat slowly forcing you to strip more and more

Occasionally when you're in the middle of sex he'll use the grate on his outfit to blow one thing of cold air to shock you

Aftercare is a must every time. He does not let himself rest until you are clean and taking care of

Lux

(Not sure where to put this but I did give them a dick despite them not having a confirmed sex I think so keep that in mind I guess. I'll keep from doing this in the future tho)

I hate them *proceeds to make these anyway*

When they said you guys only have sex when they wants to upload something on Fans Only they means it. It's hard to convince them when they're not in the mood especially so when they're in the middle of a stream

But if you convince them mostly by sucking up to then they'll end a stream like "I guess that's it for today's stream luxxies! Make sure to check Fans Only soon byeee!~"

Recordings, live and photos are a given.

And if you're lucky enough even outside of Fans Only "Don't count on it"

They're most definitely a grower. A absurdly nice grower bigger than you'd expect. Along with that they're very smooth not having any body hair.

They moans like a pornstar. It's unclear if it's for the recording or they're just like that

Very into exhibition. They don't mind anyone watching honestly they're into it frankly. If they're in the mood it's happening no matter what

Also slightly masochist very into hair pulling and one or two nice slap on the ass

Obviously mostly a bottom, but if they feeling particularly devilish they'll top

When they top they do it to prove a point/a punishment

Favorite "punishment" is you choking on their dick for sure

They love too cum on your face then lay their dick on your tongue. It just makes you so pretty for their Fans Only

They'll say stuff like "good girl/boy/slut" in a condescending way to you after taking these punishments

You will at least have to have a threesome once with some other person Lux choose

Parker Brandley

Good fucking luck buddy

First you got to win that love dice roll and now you need to somehow make board games sex related or it's not happening

Lucky for you strip poker does technically count. Maybe not a board game but it has clear rules and if Uno counts this can count to. He will not let you get away with using this all the time tho

Despite how stingy he can be with it he's very easy to work up. Just a little too much skin and/or touching a certain way can give him a boner instantly

He's quite nervous. Being awkward, and fidget quite a bit for your first time, but he quickly gets into the groove after a bit

When you finally get to the stage of actually doing something he's a feral animal with it

Massive switch! He doesn't really care what way it goes

Bottoming he's very noisy, and reacts very intensely. Unless you gag him the whole house is going to hear his semi screaming

Topping intense, and quick. Boy does not waste a second he acts like it's the end of the world as a plows into you speeding up.

Still a delightful mix of serious and a bit goofy during sex "Ohohoh~! Holy fucking shit!"

When he's more comfortable he'll probably confront you directly for his wants. "Whoever wins tops" he says putting a board game in front of you abruptly.

If you do cheat he will deny having sex outright tho

Nothing sexy like orgasm denial just straight up denying sex maybe for multiple days depending how pissed he is. You only get orgasm denial privileges when you play rightfully and you try to distract him in the game because it's only fair then

He's secretly not really so secretly a pervert his eyes widening cartoonously if you wear a skimpy outfit. Looking over your body secretly whenever he can (it's very obvious)

I feel in my heart of hearts that he is a thighs guy and he wants to be crushed by your thighs so badly

Dunk Shuttlecock

Let's just say it up front and right here you have to tell him if you want sex. He will not and won't catch on to hints or innuendos

His mentality on sports is similar to the mentality he has with sex. He just wants it to be enjoyable doesn't matter how fast, slow, intense, goofy, as long as your both having a great time

Tho if you ask him to give you it to you rough oh he sure will but the chance of you accidentally getting a bruise from it and him apologizing after is higher then maybe preferable(depending who you are) but it's a small risk for a unbelievably great time

However regularly he still has pretty good pace at least enough to make you a little weak after

His stamina is crazy willing to do like 3 to 4 rounds if you're up to it of course. He'll makes sure not to exhaust you too much taking decent breaks in between rounds to get yourself prepared

He's doesn't take sex not all too seriously grinning like a goof, and sometimes giggling

If you're the ticklish type he would definitely tickle you randomly during sex just to hear your laugh

He would be so into funny role play sex. Porno quality stuff as you both try to keep a straight face

Think of stuff you typical would expect like jock and cheerleader, jock and nerd, ect ect. Maybe even a pizza delivery thing too

He's not against a little exhibition. Sometimes grabbing you by the wrist to go somewhere more quiet

Something something shake weight joke

Eats pussy like a champ I know he does. That's not to say he's not good with a dick too [insert shuttlecock joke]

Naked yoga into sex. That's it

Quite a big fan of cockwarming while cuddling in between rounds or after sex

He's naturally a top and prefers being top too but if you ask him cute/sexually enough he'll gladly take the back seat

[horny-marbles]

Hihi! Unsure if you’d recognize me as 🧃 anon over on Tiv’s blog,,(I’m always found in the trenches over there) but I’ve been lurking on here for a bit now and can hold silent no longer!

As a fellow Ej main,,,, I gotta ask u. Erm what’s ur take on what HE would be like during period sex??? 👉👈

Ehe I love your work sm!!!!

hiiii yes i know u!! OK SO i'm using this as an excuse to post this fic i wrote a few months ago because i wasn't sure if i'd be shunned off this app for it lmfao, so like. i hope you got your answer 🫡

(also this is just some munch behaviour, but p in v is basically the same. he WILL get rabies. godspeed if you're on your period while he has his rut, you might actually get dicked into a coma)

(also also i'm not the proudest of this one but i've been fiending to post it so WHATEVER go my cannibal bf)

Bloodhound (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: period oral, multiple orgasms, kinda public

wordcount 2.6k

It took forever to get to this point with Jack.

He’s not emotionally available. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t cuddle. He doesn’t care—at least, that’s what everyone at the mansion thought. He always keeps a distance, clinically cold, silent unless necessary. Most creeps only interact with him when they're dying and hoping he’d patch them up in time. You? You got in somehow.

It started with shared silences. You didn’t push, didn’t ask invasive questions. You treated him like a person, not a monster, not someone you can get something from. Maybe that’s what cracked him open.

Nothing about it was fast. It was Jack, after all. Glacial patience, iron self-control. And he… was a project in erosion. Small conversations, slow touches. Letting him fix a cut on your hand, not flinching at his claws, letting him hear your heartbeat up close while he stitched you up.

It took weeks for him to even look at you like something more than another resident of the mansion. Even longer to speak to you like you mattered. And months before you saw him with his guard down. Just a little. A crooked smile when you said something that caught him off-guard. He was cautious—frustratingly so—but over time, he allowed you closer.

Something changed along the lines. Eventually, you broke through. Maybe it was your quiet persistence. Maybe it was just time. Maybe he got tired of pretending your presence hadn't become sought out rather than just a nice surprise on the occasion.

Whatever it was, you were his now. And he was yours. Carefully. Quietly. Privately. Like something precious. It was gentler than you could've anticipated, but it felt monumental.

You knew he was demon enough to survive off flesh. You knew his senses were heightened—he’d mentioned it once, bluntly, like a clinical report. “Everyone in this house reeks. I ignore it. Easier that way.” You didn’t ask more.

So when your period started, you didn’t even think to tell him. Why would you? You weren’t the kind of person to make a big deal out of it out loud. You’d stuff a pad in your jacket, pop some ibuprofen, sulk, call it a day. Maybe mention it if sex came up to make sure he wasn't squeamish, but otherwise—whatever.

He was NOT squeamish.

He was a fucking wreck, in such a visceral way that it knocked him off balance.

He didn’t realize it at first. Not consciously. There was just… a difference.

Your heartbeat was lower. Your temperature ran hotter. A subtle change in the chemistry of your sweat. Not bad—nothing ever was with you. But different. Complicated.

Jack tuned these things out. Hormones, sweat, stress, sex—this mansion stank of it. He’d learned long ago that the only way to keep his sanity was to ignore everything that wasn’t essential. If he let it in—really let it in—he’d never get peace again.

But this wasn’t the house. This wasn’t “ambient noise.” This was you.

And your scent had changed.

At first, it was small. Just enough to raise the hair on his arms. His instincts whispered to him in the background, tugged at the base of his spine like a hooked wire. Something important was happening. Something ripe.

The smell started sweet. Then it got wet. Iron and heat. Blood and sugar and skin. A slick, dizzying cocktail of copper and pheromones that made something deep in his gut twitch.

He realized—too late—that you were bleeding.

He’d smelled it before, of course. Lived with women in this house. It had never meant anything to him. Just another reason to stay away for a few days, let the hormone cloud settle and spare himself the migraine.

But this wasn’t just any blood. It wasn't the viscera and gore he was so used to when feeding. This wasn't about hunger and survival. It was about you. About everything else that came with it — your hormones, the heat under your skin, the scent of pain and lust and life. You were a walking furnace, and he was standing downwind from the smoke.

Jack hadn’t accounted for that when he lowered his defenses to let you in. He hadn’t even considered that it might affect him differently.

But now it was like every cell in his body was tuned to you. Your scent dragged claws down his brainstem, lit every nerve like a chemical explosion. His mouth filled with saliva he didn’t need. His muscles locked so tight it hurt to move.

And his cock was constantly throbbing. There was barely any angle to adjust, no distraction strong enough. His body was betraying him, rock-solid and aching, cock flushed and twitching behind his jeans like it wanted to rip through.

Not just hard. Rigid. Like his entire body was bracing against some invisible force. His shoulders tense. Jaw clenched. Claws scraping gouges into the inside of his palm just to focus.

He stayed away that first day. Locked himself in his room. Didn’t answer when you knocked.

But the second day, your scent wafted behind you when you passed by him in the hall, grazing under his nose like it was both mocking and luring him in, and his knees buckled.

You were too busy chasing your cramps away with painkillers and heat pads to notice your boyfriend's change in behaviour, though.

You never noticed the way he breathed around you, measured and tight and absolutely refusing to inhale through his nose. The way he kept his hands in his pockets, hidden, clenched. The way his voice went low and clipped when you got too close.

But the way he wouldn't even look in your general direction—allusive to an actual glance as it would've been—became too on the nose. The way his shirt clung to his chest. The sheen of sweat permanently on his collar.

His breath stuttered when you leaned over the sink at some point before heading to bed. You were just getting a glass of water.

And Jack folded like laundry.

“Sit down.” His voice was low, firm, strained. Out of nowhere.

You blinked and turned around slowly. “What?”

His head was tilted slightly downward, jaw clenched like he was about to snap it off at the hinge. “The couch. Sit.”

You sat, confused. Bracing for the talk. Surely, the strange behaviour meant he was just done, for some reason. That's what your homonal mind jumped to anyway.

He knelt between your legs without another word. Okay, so no talk.

You stare down at him.

He's kneeling. Still. Broad hands braced on your thighs, fingers twitching like he’s holding himself back from shredding you to ribbons. He’s staring at your padded pussy like he can see it through your pajamas, like it owes him money. Like it promised him something and he came to collect.

Your legs spread a little—not even fully open—but his breath shudders out like he’s been punched.

“Jack?” you murmur, half-laughing, half-nervous. “What are you doing?”

His claws curl tighter into your thighs. He doesn’t answer right away. You can see the war in his head, muscles in his jaw doing Olympics when they twitch. He lifts a hand and rubs his face hard, dragging clawed fingers from brow to chin like he’s trying to scrape the hunger out of his skull.

He leans closer. Breathes in. Then again.

“Fuck—”

It’s a hiss. Half-formed. Desperate. Almost makes you jerk back, not with fear or disgust, but with realization.

“Jack—people could walk in—”

“Don’t care,” he growls. Not harsh—just raw. Like it costs him to speak at all. “I'll kill them. You need to—fuck—open your legs.”

You’re already open, but you listen. You shift. Knees wider. Hips tilted forward.

The second you do it, he twitches. Full body.

And then he leaps. Not violent—but like a man dying of thirst finally handed a glass of water. He buries his face in your clothed pussy and groans.

You feel it all: heat, vibration, desperation. He’s nuzzling hard through the fabric like it’s not enough, like he needs skin, taste, your fucking soul. His breath is hot, fast. You can feel him mouthing you over the cotton, and it sends sparks ripping through your spine.

“Jack—Jesus—wait, I'm on my—”

“Exactly,” he growls again, this time muffled against your cunt. “I need this.”

He yanks at your waistband, fast but careful. Pants and padded panties yanked off your ankles and tossed behind him on the floor. He looks deranged, mouth slightly parted, nostrils flaring, sweat beading at his temples.

And then—without asking, without warning—he leans in.

You jolt when you feel the first tongue.

Wet. Hot and starved. It licks from the bottom of your pussy to your clit in one slow, savoring drag. A moan vibrates against you—deep, long, throaty—and you feel how hard he’s gripping your thighs now, claws pressing in like they’re the only things tethering him to the floor.

The second tongue follows. Then the third. One on your clit. One swirling around your folds to pick up any trace of blood like he's licking a plate clean. The last one dips inside.

You choke out a sound that’s not even a word.

Jack doesn’t stop. Doesn’t breathe. He’s full-body focused, shuddering between your legs like he’s being electrocuted with pleasure just from tasting you. His tongues move in urgent patterns—suckling, lapping, sliding inside you—and the third one curls deep, pumping in slow, sinful thrusts like he’s tongue-fucking your cervix.

He's drinking you. Literally. You feel the small gush as your blood mixes with your arousal and his growl deepens. His head tilts, adjusting his angle like he’s trying to get more of it, and he moans again.

Jack doesn’t moan. He barely talks.

But right now, he’s loud and messy and desperate, to the point where—if you could have a moment of clarity—you would think his mating season came early.

Slurping noises echo off the walls, obscene and wet. You realize again where you are—the common room—and your whole body flushes.

“Jack—fucking hell, w-what if someone walks in—”

His only answer is to suck your clit into his mouth while his third tongue curls up inside you, pressing so deep it makes your vision stutter.

Your hips buck. He groans, and the vibration rattles your bones.

He moves faster.

Tongue on your clit flicking now, licking in fast little swipes. Second tongue dragging figure-eights across your folds. Third tongue fucking you like it’s trying to crawl into your womb.

Your thighs are trembling. Your head tips back, hand flying to his head, burying in his hair. You feel his body—solid, trembling, tense with restraint.

You cum so fast it makes you choke.

It hits you like lightning, shattering through your spine, hips jerking, thighs locking around his head. You hear yourself whimper trying to stay silent, feel your body clamp around his tongues, and Jack just growls into you like it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever experienced.

He doesn’t stop. Not even when you’re shaking. Not even when the blood runs thicker.

He just pulls back slightly to breathe—and fuck, he looks wrecked. His mouth is soaked—chin slick with blood and spit, dark red smeared halfway up to his cheeks, coating his skin like warpaint. He stares at your cunt like he’s starving, heaving like it's hurting him to unlatch his mouth from your taste.

You see his hand now. The one not gripping your thigh with bruising force, wrapped around his cock. Fist pumping slow and vicious—like he’s trying not to cum from the taste of you alone.

Because he almost did.

You feel the heat of his stare. Like he’s burned every inch of your cunt into his brain. Like nothing else exists in this moment but your flushed, swollen pussy and the mess he just made of you.

He looks up at you with bloodied lips parted and tongues curling, one of them flicking over his bottom lip in a slow, hungry drag.

“You’re gonna cum again,” he says, voice rough and quiet like a threat. “You're gonna give me everything."

You whimper simply from the way he leans back in like he owns you, like he was born for this.

The first tongue enters slow this time—broad and heavy, pushing past your bullied entrance with a wet, obscene squelch. Your hips twitch. You’re already sensitive, but your body opens for him anyway, clenches like it knows what’s coming.

He groans low in his throat. You feel the way your blood drips down his tongue, how he laps it deeper inside you like honey from the comb.

Then the second tongue slips in. Coiling around the first like a twisting vine, filling and stretching.

You cry out softly, biting your lip. Jack moans, long and muffled and fuck just drown me in this pussy.

His third tongue curls upward, lashes across your clit in maddening, lazy strokes like he’s teasing you on purpose. Tongue-fucking up into your walls with two thick lengths, while the third plays you like an instrument.

You don’t even realize your legs are shaking again until your hips lift off the couch.

He follows, grinding his face deeper, mouth slightly clumsy from the way he's stroking his cock—so hungry and fast it's shaking his whole body between your legs. You glance down through half-lidded eyes just to see him leaking, twitching with every slick drag of his tongues inside you.

He’s drenched in you.

From the mouth down. His chin, neck, part of his chest where he pressed in too close. The scent of blood and heat clings to him like paint, thick and sweet and wrong, but he looks exalted.

“Fffuck,” he slurs against you. “Your blood—fuck, your cunt, tastes like fucking life—”

The words shake you. Filthy and sincere. He’s never been this devastated before, this starved. His tongues are working you over like you’re his last meal, like he’s feeding off of you. And fuck, maybe he is. Maybe something deep in his instincts, something more primal, is actually reveling in this.

His pace quickens. You can feel it—that edge coming again. Too fast. Too hard. Overstimulated but desperate, everything in your body pulling tight like a bowstring.

You grab at his hair, desperate to ground yourself.

One tongue thrusts hard, firm and deep. The second curls tighter, twisting against your walls. The third presses flat to your clit, and when he moans into you again, the vibration alone is enough to split you.

“Jack—Jack I’m—”

“Cum for me,” he growls. Muffled, throat clicking and rasping. Tongue still deep inside you. “Cum with my fucking name in your mouth.”

You do, and it leaves you raw.

Back arching. Hands clawing at the couch. Legs locking around his head so tight he grunts, but doesn’t stop. He leans into it, forces the orgasm to drag out, mouth still moving until you’re jerking, twitching, moaning high and sharp as your body convulses under the weight of your second release.

You have to pry him away with a weak hand on his forehead and a choked sob for him to unlatch his lips from your clit with a wet pop.

He’s panting against your pussy, blood and slick coating his face, and you can feel his body shaking between your legs with every feral pump of his fist, tight and harsh around his cock.

And he growls, low and feral, and you can only jerk back and look around to make sure no one was around as he cums hard between his knees, untouched by you, just from tasting your cunt and blood. Hot ropes splatter against the floor. His head tips back, face the most beautifully grotesque picture of bliss.

The room is silent but for your breaths. Heavy. Laced with the obscene stink of sex and blood and pure animalistic worship.

Jack wipes his face with the back of his hand only to lick the smeared blood off his knuckles. Not slow. Not seductive. Just hungry.

He looks at you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever need to taste.

“…We’re doing this every month,” he says, voice hoarse. “Every month.”

[abbinurmel]

It really is mentally healthier and more mature looking. Ironically, even if you are confronted by this person you have grievances with. One friend of my crossed a lot of my boundaries but she is still a nice person and I knew from the get-go she had no desire to hurt anyone. She's just one of those people who are very touchy feely and socially inappropriate without realizing it isn't for everyone, especially for autistic people like me who aren't as gregarious or like being publicly smothered by pals with their hugs or hands touching their hair. I knew it was platonic touch. I knew she was sorry. But no matter how many times I told her to stop, she kept forgetting and doing it. I never cut her off officially but told myself I am no longer going out of my way to be outreaching her as a friend, & other people around me know this.

Should I berate her? Should I judge my friend as an insensitive asshole or call her a creep? No. But I feel like if she we're a mutual on tumblr and we hosted our awkward misgivings personal tiny drama on public display, like a lot of these kids do now, EVERY single viewer would offer up their rage and 2 cents and she would be dogpiled or I would be by mockery and unwarranted hate. My friend isn't a creep, she's just extroverted and it is annoying and she was sincerely regretful each time I brought up her mistake of being too grossly sentimental. I felt like a jerk, and still do. I cannot define every person's level of touch acceptance and be a mind reader any more than she. Every time she has been told not to she stops, however, her slipping up kept on repeating though, and by forgetting to address changing this mistake, no matter how many times I brought it up how uncomfortable it made me, she often would get defensive about how her other friends let her always bear hug them, or give them light cheek peck "French style greeting" kiss as a greeting. We could be just foolish pearl clutchers for all I really know, or at least if we were abroad. Petty of me, perhaps, to design what's appropriate in other cultures. It may be trivial and reading into things too much. ... But, at end of the day, I know my limits. She isn't a pervert, or being bad, but yes, she IS very much so too annoying for me to deal with anymore. I have to just accept the dislike that I have is for an innocent person and on the whole, one who's behavior genuinely is completely naively unintentional and harmless. But that complicated feeling of disgust, petty or not, is within my right to still feel.

In my opinion it's a lot more healthy to be able to own that you dislike someone for petty reasons than to do all kinds of mental gymnastics to make everyone you don't really vibe with out to be a bad person actually

[hauntedtrait]

Drama In The Family: A Legacy Challenge

by yours truly, and my friend @greglunvik

For a little bit of a preamble, if you'll allow me... About a year ago, Fae and I were talking about wanting legacies with more drama, so one thing led to another and we started writing our own. As the title suggests, the focus of the legacy challenge is on drama within families. We put a lot of thought and love into this, so I hope you enjoy this as much as we do!

The DITF legacy challenge currently has 7 generations, with a lot of pack integration. We might, in the future, add more gens as new packs come out or we have more ideas, but for now, we've got these seven.

The guidelines + first generation will be under the cut, but the rest you'll be able to see by going to:

THE GOOGLE DOCS

Guidelines

Firstly and most importantly: have fun! The challenge guidelines are just that, they are not a strict rule set you absolutely must follow no matter what, feel free to change things around as you see fit. If it works for you, then it’s right. 

This challenge was created with all packs and some mods in mind to enhance gameplay, but do not let that stop you, adapt as needed.

Wanna cheat, feel free to cheat, who are we to stop you! (That said you miiight have more fun if you don’t — unless you absolutely need to) 

Some gens are meant to be played immediately after the one listed above it, but the overall order isn’t absolute and you’re welcome to change it around. The only hard rule is that the White Picket Fence MUST be the founding generation.

For each generation multiple traits, skills, careers and aspiration options will be presented to you. We recommend picking 2 or 3 of the suggested traits, and the third (or more, if you use the 5 traits mod) is up to you, and 3 or more skills. It’s also up to you which aspiration(s) you complete, as long as you complete at least one from the list! 

Reaching career level 10 is not required unless specified.

Each gen starts at the young adult life stage. 

Suggestions

Medium and long lifespans will offer more time and opportunities to fully experience all aspects of this legacy challenge, but if you prefer to play on short you are more than welcome to.

Utilize gameplay from L&D and Growing Together if you have them to give each generation more depth, like Wills, Bucket List, Heirlooms and Keepsake boxes.

If you have the Businesses & Hobbies expansion and like that kind of gameplay, you could use a Small Business in place of the career option to make it more immersive (ie. if the career is lawyer, you could make a law firm small business)

Generation One: White Picket Fence

You come from a very traditional household and always imagined yourself following the same path as your parents: marrying your high school sweetheart, having three kids together and living in the perfect white picket fence home. Unfortunately, things have not turned out that way so far – there was no childhood sweetheart and your apartment is far from perfect.  You start university, but you find yourself struggling to stay on track. You work odd jobs and part time to make ends meet while you try to figure it out. At this point in your life, you’re actually not sure if everything you’ve always dreamed of having is what you really wanted.

Career: Any 

Aspirations: Any

Traits (Pick 2-3): Hates Children, Self-Absorbed, Romantically Reserved (or Unflirty if you do not have the Lovestruck pack), Non-Committal, Lazy. 

Skills (Pick 3 or more): Charisma, Logic, Writing, Knitting, Pottery, 

Goals

Start in a small apartment or still living with your family. Cheat or use SNB bank mod to give your sim 2000 simoleons or less. 

Work odd jobs or part time until you get pregnant/get someone pregnant from a one night stand or short relationship.

Shotgun wedding! Marry the first sim you get pregnant with during the pregnancy. Bonus points: your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Once married, move into a fixer upper home and renovate as family funds grow, doing the nursery first of course. 

Start your career, you can’t keep up a family of three and a house on gig work after all.

At some point, have an affair with a coworker. 

Situations

College Cram: Finals are almost here and… you’re not prepared at all. Truth is, you’re beyond stressed and unsure if you’re cut out for this kind of thing.

Option A: You decide it’s worth pushing through and getting this done. You’re nearing the finish line, just one more semester, you can make it work, so you pull some all-nighters and ignore the looming dread, successfully getting your degree.

Option B: The struggle is too real and you can’t deny it anymore: college isn’t for you. Your parents are disappointed and you’re not sure what you’ll do about career prospects, but you just had to get out. You drop out of college and try a different path in life than the one you chose when you were 18.

The Affair: You’ve been seeing your coworker for some time now… and your spouse finds out.

Option A: Despite your mistake, your partner forgives you, and you both promise to work to mend this relationship, after all, the kids don’t deserve the difficulties of a divorce. Unfortunately, you remain unable to stay away from your coworker… so you get better at hiding it.

Option B: This is it, the end of the line. Your partner will never see past what you’ve done. Divorce is filed, it is not amicable, but it is fair, each one gets half, and custody is split evenly, with the kids spending equal time with each parent.

Extras/Optional

Live and bicker with a roommate while living in the apartment. 

Despite what the description implies, you don’t HAVE to go to uni and work at the same time. 

Also feel free to cheat for university if you’re not a fan of that kind of gameplay. 

Your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Your coworker must have great compatibility with you.  

Make your sims parents and siblings, if they’re still alive!

Have more than one kid, maybe even one with your lover?

[starrbishops]

⟡Filthy Mouth⟡

(Bob Reynolds x Reader)

Summary: Bob finally lets you give him a blowjob. - prequel to Sidelines based on a request from @princess312

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: Oral sex, blowjob, established relationship, Post-Thunderbolts*, porn without plot, so much swearing, Bob Reynolds curses like a sailor,

a/n: Uhhhh yeah this is just pornography. Straight up written word porn. With some Bob character study mixed in on his background and behaviors in a relationship. But mostly porn. Enjoy!

Bob wasn’t used to being powerful.

It was strange, having his new abilities. He felt stronger, healthier, but he still felt like himself. Robert Reynolds, the vagrant drug addict dropout. He did his best to keep his powers at the forefront of his mind after remembering what he’d done to New York. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially not his new friends. And especially not you.

Bob tried to take things slow with you, always leaving you chances to back out. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to be with, and he honestly didn’t fully understand what you saw in him. But you stayed everytime. No matter how much he pointed out his faults, his flaws, you’d just smile and tell him you liked him anyways, as is.

It’s part of why he likes you so much. More than anyone he’s ever known.

Still, he tries to not come on too strong. He always makes sure to put you first. All the bare minimum boyfriend tasks; walk closer to the street, hold doors open for you, remind you everyday how incredible you are. In bed, it translates to making sure you cum at least once, preferably twice or more, before he does. Which is why it takes so long for him to let you blow him.

When it comes to sex, Bob is first and foremost concerned with not hurting you. He still gets nightmares of when you beat up you and the rest of the team as Sentry. You all laugh it off as a funny memory, tell him you forgive him, but it nags at him. He could hurt you so easily, and he would sooner die than do that on purpose. Anyways, he much prefers the way you look when he eats you out, eyes rolling back in your head, hands gripping his hair while he raves at you. He prioritizes your pleasure over anything else. The fact that you even let him have sex with you is the win from his perspective. Apparently, you don’t see it that way.

You’re seated in his lap, the two of you making out in his bedroom while the rest of the team is away on a mission. You palm at the grown bulge in his pants, breaking the kiss. “Can I please blow you?” you ask, with just a hint of a pout on your face. “I’m good at it, so I’ve been told.”

Bob is about to reply before you cut him off. “And if you say you just want me to have a good time, I will have a good time. I like taking care of you Bob. I just want you to let me.” 

He shuts his mouth, looking up at you. It feels like a fever dream, a beautiful girl in his lap who desperately wants to suck his dick. It’s not like he hasn’t imagined it before. There’ve been plenty of long missions where he’s had to deal with his erections himself, and thought of you while doing so. Imagine it was your hand rather than his, how it would feel to have your lips wrap around his length, taking all of him into your mouth and down your throat. Just thinking about it now makes it even harder.

So instead of his usual deflection, he nods. “You sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You just grin, already tugging at his waistband. “Bob, we’ve had sex before. I know your dick is big. Congratulations, I will survive.”

He chuckles as he assists you in removing his pants, lifting his hips so you can pull them off along with his boxers before tossing them across the room. You settle yourself between his legs, licking your lips as you take in the image before you. 

Bob’s cock stands at attention, red and desperate for touch, precum leaking from the tip. You glance up, waiting for consent before you make a move. Bob nods, awkwardly settling his hands by his sides, not wanting to touch you too intensely at first.

Bob Reynolds is no blushing virgin. He’s had sex, and had blowjobs before. He’s trying not to be too loud. He really, really does. Still, the moment your tongue swipes over his tip, he’s already groaning. “Fuck, baby.” he gasps, one hand flying to your head while the other grips the sheets beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. “So good, fuck.”

You take the base of his cock in our hand, getting a firm hold before you lick up the underside of him, taking your time to coat him with your spit. He does his best not to hold too tightly onto your hair for fear of pulling too hard. He keeps his eyes on you, memorizing the sight of your tongue sliding along his length, the feeling of you against his most sensitive parts.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.” you mutter, looking up at him with lust darkened eyes. “Don’t hold it in.”

Bob’s always been the talkative type. Before you, he tried to tone it down, considering most of his sexual experience was just flings. When you said you liked when he made noise, he took it to heart, letting his inner monologue escape his lips as you ravished him. 

He nods, another moan escaping him as you take him in your mouth, at the heavenly feeling of your lips around his cock. 

Try as you might, you can’t take his whole length in your mouth. You compensate with your hand on what you can’t fit, stroking him as you begin to bob your head on him, Bob groaning at the sensation.

“Holy shit, babe, oh my god.” he rambles as you take him in and out of your mouth, his knuckles beginning to turn white with how hard he grips the sheets. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this, mouth full of cock. Should’ve let you do this sooner, fuck-”

He interrupts himself with another moan as you manage to take him ever deeper into your throat, his tip just touching the back of your throat. You continue at your pace, laser focused on his every move and sound, noting what gets the most reaction. You do it again, take him just that much deeper, and Bob almost cums on the spot.

“Oh my god, you’re so good. Holy fuck, you’re perfect, your mouth is fucking incredible.” He can feel your own moan vibrate around him, and he groans at the feeling in turn. He’s becoming convinced you’re trying to suck his soul out through his cock. He’d let you, if it feels this good. He’d let you do anything you want to him.

He’s still talking aloud, he realizes as you make a sound that at first verges on a laugh, shifting quickly to a moan as he accidentally jerks his hips up just a bit. “Shit, I’m sorry, a-are you good? Okay?”

You nod, wiping your mouth quickly and smiling innocently as you lower your mouth back onto him, one hand moving to cup his balls beneath his cock. Yet another string of curses escapes him at the feeling, the combined sensation of your mouth and hands becoming all too much. He can feel himself hurtling off the edge, towards absolute ecstasy.

“Oh, god, baby I’m gonna cum, where should I- can I cum in your mouth? Please? Wanna fill you, let you taste me.”

You moan around him, and Bob takes that as the affirmative. You continue, eyes closed as you concentrate on maximizing his pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, ‘m gonna cum, fuck, fuck!” he practically yells out your name as he finally cums, you taking as much of him as possible as he does, hot spurts of cum sliding down your throat. You take it like a champ, holding your position, still stroking the base of him and massaging his balls beneath that.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Bob groans as he tries to collect himself, eyes coming back into focus to see you sit up, swallowing before licking what’s left of his cum off the tip of his softened dick. “You’re amazing.”

“You have a filthy mouth.” you chuckle, crawling up his body. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse that much.”

“The things you do to me.” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you. He can taste the salty flavor of himself on your lips. “We should do that again sometime.”

You brush some fallen hair out of his face, grinning with satisfaction. “Told you I was good.”

“I never doubted you.” he assures you, pulling you into his arms as he flips you onto your back. “But now it’s my turn.”

a/n: i'm gonna be fr blowjobs are not my specialty but i did my bset here and honestly it was good practice. Insane thing to say about writing about blowjobs but damn here we are. uhhhh bob fans enjoy!

[ashortcuttomushrooms]

[Image Description: The first image is a screenshot of a tiktok. It shows a bottle of soda inside a fridge, captioned: "Grief shows in the weirdest ways. This was my dads favorite soda. It has been sitting in the fridge untouched for 4 years and will likely stay there forever". The rest of the screenshots show comments left on the video. They say:

I still pay my dads phone bill cus I don't want anyone else to have his number

I have my dad's wallet where he has $37 and 3 years later, no matter how broke I am, I have not touched that money.

My grandpa asked for a KitKat the day before he passed, I got it for him but he never got to eat it. It's been in my fridge ever since.

When my daughter died, she had a carton of ice cream in the freezer. I would open it to look at the spoon tracks raked across the surface. It was comforting... like she was still there.

Mt brother was murdered in 2012. I still have a pair of his clothes in case it was all a mistake and he needs something to wear when he finds his way back to us.

My husbands phone line is still active after 2 years. His body wash, toothbrush, shampoo are all still in the same place he left them. Makes me feel like he will be back to use them again.

Before my mom passed she put a chocolate Christmas's tree in the fridge and said "no one eat this please it's mine!". When we moved it moved with us and will be in my fridge forever.

I still buy my dad something every year for Fathers Day. It's been fifty years. (Rose emoji)

I still have a body powder that he gave me when I was 6. I applied a little bit in my wedding day at 19.

I have the last meal my little sister cooked in the freezer. I miss her so much

The whiteboard in our house that my dad would write things on still has his handwriting on it from the last thing he wrote (three two hearts emojis) he's been gone almost 10 years, I miss him (smiling face with halo emoji)

My dad left me his car in 2019 when he passed. The trunk is full of beach towels and coats and hats. He was always prepared for any weather. Now I am too.

My dad passed away 22 years ago and I still have a jar of the last batch of jam he ever made in my fridge.

We emptied out the container of my moms coffee creamer and filled it with water and it's been in the fridge for nine years

my sister's still in my favorite contacts. she's been gone since 2016 & i've gotten at least 4 new phones...

End Image Description]

I saw this post on tiktok and as soon as I opened the comments I started sobbing

[iluvsanrio444]

╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮

chapter one plot ⋆˚࿔ : Ever since interactions between Huntrix and The Saja Boys, Romance had been eyeing you down. The exchanged glances and personal space not being a thing each time till the point you find yourself in a fling with Romance. That’s how you thought to view it as, no more than a fling, right? Humans and demons aren’t capable to love each other. Even hunters wouldn’t be capable. What makes you expect this would actually turn out right?

word count -> 2,624

#Fluff #mild-angst #comedic #romcom #movies-plot #context based

ʚɞ A/N: Depending on the performance for this chapter, i’ll turn this into a series with many more chapters to come by! Any suggestions after this feel free to send me anything or maybe feedback :3 ENJOYY!!

╰┈•┈୨୧┈•┈╯

There were a millions of reasons why this shouldn’t be happening. Not like this.

It started with innocent long glances between the two when both HuntriX and The Saja Boys would conflict with each other. Nothing out of the norm, right? However, whenever interactions like these happen, you can't help but always feel a pair of eyes on you, you only. The way he lingered a little longer before following the others to exit. Softening gazes when you did make eye contact, one where.. he— he meant no harm? Nonsense, he's a demon. All demons are nefarious.

Even knowing this, being the odd one out it felt weird at first, but soon after it tingled within your heart, the strings being tugged on like wireless cables. This was only the result of Celine's parenting, continuously doting on Rumi even after knowing both you and she possess your father's demon traits. The only difference was she had it all: the talent, the aspiration, the ability, and the power. Everything. You? …Yeah maybe some aspiration and some strength but never the talent. At least not up to Rumi's level.

As days passed by, there were challenges between the sisters, but this played out well since it did make them grow fonder and understanding of each other, trying to accept their roles. It wasn't so bad; you didn't have to hide the staggering markings with Rumi and Rumi too. It only hit you meticulously at times, looking at the group performing from the wings, fans cheering them on..being loved, acknowledged for who you are, and recognised for you.

You were supposed to be up there if only your mother had just… put a little oomph into you, you know? Instead, you were just their helper, a personal manager next to Bobby. Although you did have trouble accepting this, the only way was to force yourself. It was, in fact, inevitable at the end of the day.

Who the hell would be contempt with this? You must be Buddha to be!

Every time it was like someone immensely poking drumsticks at your abdomen each time fans recognised the trio whilst you had to stand at the sides. Invisible. To you it felt like you were their clerk at times, nothing less different than from a Joseon princess's eunuch; you might as well scream jeonhaaa. Ugh. Anyone who knew your situation would take pity on you or, matter of fact, just clown you for it. Yeah, you were the clown near the trio, - it felt like putting rouge on a corpse.

Being Rumi’s sister, you were already built to despise the Saja boys ever since they debuted with their song “Soda Pop”. Even Zoey, who always was headed to whichever guy she comically popped popcorn out of her eyes and even bopped her shoulders to their song, had some hatred for them. Yet here you are, hands limp on the metal railing, tinging your forearms with its mint. Again he had come by one of the members in the same very group you were told to despise. Romance. The palpable, effortlessly charming, labelled ‘playboy’ in the group, the annoying sugar-gazing... loveable… enduring — okay, what the flip. As your eyes followed the pink-haired man swiftly but silently jumping over the railing, a sigh left, knowing where your thoughts were headed about this overly love-addict bastard.

“You’re here..- again?” Your eyes still focus on Romance, clearly not fazed by this in the moment. You didn't have any energy to be bothered. It was already midnight, and Huntrix was making their comeback song “TakeDown” for the idol awards. A long day being a dog, to be honest. At least Romance came by then and there; honestly, his timing is really meaningful to you, obviously. He's a weird demon or whatnot; what feelings does he have?

Romance gave that same earnest gaze along with that bitchboy smirk, “Don’t act like you enjoy it—“

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t Romance.”

“Oh yeah?” He took his place beside you, having his elbow rest on the railing whilst the other hand cupped his cheek, hunching his back a bit to your height, looking down. “Then why did you even notice me in the first place?”

A scoff leaves your mouth, “Who the hell wouldn’t notice a tall ass pink heart shaped hair climbing onto my damn balcony?” Romance couldn't help but let out a laugh seeing how pent up you had gotten. He was the ‘playboy’ in the Saja Boys, but that didn't stop him from being a damn heartthrob who noticed even the littlest things. That charm of his grabbed you, and he knew it.

“What's so funny?” You gave him a sideways glance, “You, getting so worked up.” Your entire head was facing him with your face getting more of a scowl in annoyance, “How does Jinu even handle you..”

In response, Romance dramatically tugged on his shirt, his hand on his heart and a grunt in pain, “Mentioning another man when I'm here… ack—!” Followed by that adoring smile his fans go ballistic for, “Y/N!”

Rolling your eyes, a staggering smile threatening to appear on your lips. You nudged him a bit by your elbow near his ribs, “Shut it, you sound like a damn rat dog.”

“RAT DOG?!”

Romance made even more grunting in comical pain, intentionally making it louder for the trio to hear him. In a haste you snapped your head to your room door and back to him. What if they heard? “Aii! Okay okay..” She placed her hand now on his forearm. “A— uh.. Pomeranian dog okay? Happy?” He bent down a bit more to meet her eyes. “Happy.” The sudden closure brought both of you to an airtight silence, feeling the rise in warming tension between the two, face to face. It stayed like that for a while, with not many words or bickering said but a lot more meaningful intent. This thing you and him had going on… this fling – who knows what can happen to them? A mouthy ‘why’ tried to escape your mouth but was immediately greeted by Romance having another hearing of Gwi-Ma's malicious announces.

Already weakening his knees, he was forced to buckle down onto the floor whilst his hands hastily made their way to his ears. Trying to block out any sound or just Gwi-Ma's voice in general. Moments like these made you question if all demons were truly wicked. You didn't have the slightest clue what to do, but you went through it, kneeling down to his height. Taking in what was going on, you knew it was Gwi-Ma's daily threats he told you about, seeing how he blocked his ears, his eyes trembling, sweat running down and, most importantly, his demon marks showing through. You never had any of these Gwi-Ma stuff for whatever reason, but the least you could really do is comfort the poor gu— demon.

Your hand made its way to his back; at first he flinched away slightly but soon realised that your hand made gentle pats. Soothing your hand up and down his back with small pats filled with genuine worry, soft enough to not throw him off yet enough to signal him you’re here. “Aii rat dog, I'm here, okay?” With a small smile, you jokingly cooed to him, just trying to get his mind out of the gutters in Gwi-Ma's constant threats. What if some demons aren't that bad? Your doubt with Celine's life teachings against demons only grew the more you saw Romance in pain.

He flashed a quick smile hearing what you called him again, giving a weakened expression, one that was vulnerable. Nevertheless, only you saw the one he felt most comfortable with. “Seriously? Is 'rat dog' going to be my new nickname or what?” The snigger left before you could even reply, giving out a smile that was once hidden with others. Even your own sister. “It suits you.” However, despite the sniggers that escaped, you felt his eyes only on you. He didn't laugh with you; he followed you with that adoring gaze yet again, only smiling in response, admiring your raw self.

“Whatt?” You asked as you calmed down from the high in the joke, your smile still in contact. A small “hm” noise when she tilted her head left and right, patting her hand on his back more. “Romance?”

“Cute.”

“Eh?”

“Sometimes you can be adorable, Y/N, even when I get under your ski—.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A snap back to reality caused you to shoot up from the floor; the beaten red look on your cheeks went against you. Hitting him multiple times on the shoulder, causing him to go, “Ah! What the hell?!” You quickly dragged Romance up on his feet and pushed him into your room. “Yah! Y/N? She's going to see me, dumbass; I'm too big-!” He retaliated against you trying to keep himself outside of the closet. You gritted your teeth, “Shut up and get in the damn closet!” In one big push you managed to shove him into your closet. Whilst being practically plunged into the closet, he put his hand on top of his heart-shaped hair and yelled in a long whisper, “No, my hairr..!”

Thud.

Knock, knock, knocₖₖₖₖₖ

“I’m coming!” You yelled out at the continuous knocking, Who the hell was it? Looking around your room for any hints that Romance, who is literally here, left to indicate his presence. Why? Well, I don't know. Maybe because Huntrix HATED him and his group's guts? You didn't see any signals that would suggest Romance being here, so in a swift gallop skip, you opened the door to see the three: Rumi, Mira, and Zoey.

“What took you so longg?” Zoey asked in her high-pitched tone, draping her arm around your shoulder whilst Mira walked inside, no questions asked, “Took you long enough; the hell were you doing?”

“Oh, me? “Uh...” you quickly retorted in a giggle whilst scratching the side of your neck, letting out a believable yawn, “I was trying to sleep.” Zoey, Mira and you were already up to the shenanigans before Rumi walked in. “We need to talk.” Everyone's head snapped to Rumi with a curious yet nervous look. “Together. All of us.” This made your personal nerves even more tense knowing that Romance was in your closet doing God knows what.. probably worrying for his hair like usual. However, it wasn't just that; it was the look on Rumi's face. A look that she was familiar with whenever something happened with guilt.

Rumi sat everyone down in the living room, —Zoey on the singular rounded chair, Mira cross-legged beside me, and Rumi leg crossed in the centre. An uneasy feeling was known for a bit which didn't stop you from glancing at your bedroom door, worried for that pinky who was in your closet still. Hopefully. Ugh..you prayed to whatever god up there that he wasn’t snooping about and just stayed in your room like a good dog. Ironic.

Rumi took a deep breath and looked at everyone, “I know we don’t keep secrets between each other.” She startled you, thinking it was about time that Zoey and Mira knew about the half-demon breed you and Rumi are. But as soon as you heard the name, ‘Jinu’ you leaned back on the couch and exhaled, knowing where this one was going. It was obvious – maybe not to Zoey or Mira, but to you it was your sisters at the end of the day. Nothing can go unnoticed between the two… That being said, did Rumi know about your fling with Romance? You shook your head slightly, knowing you had to focus on what Rumi had to say.

Zoey and Mira were almost at the edge of their seats as soon as Rumi brought up Jinu. Zoey, of course, was giggling her ass off, whilst Mira had a weirded-out expression. “So.. I and Jinu have been talking…” Zoey was the one to scream first, “Talking as in how?!” Rumi couldn't keep her eyes on us. Keeping her hand grasped onto her forearm in embarrassment, she finally awkwardly responded, “I think we all know.. how..”

“Rumi, you were the one who told us not to get close with them.”

“I know..”

“Rumi, what's going to happen?”

“I don’t know.. but we’re trying to figure it out.”

“What about Gwi-Ma?” Your arms were crossed and dead set on Rumi. The only reason why you were serious in this question was because of.. Romance. What if there was a world where manipulated demons could live by with humans? Hunters? Why the hell did you care either way, let alone for Romance, its a damn fling. The three ladies had turned their eyes onto you, whilst Rumis widened slightly, “That.. we don’t know… It's only based on a theory.”

“Which is?”

“If we seal the honmoon before Gwi-Ma can even get fed more soul, the weaker he gets, right?” We all nod.

“No souls being fed is equal to no Gwi-Ma; he wouldn't be powerful enough.” Rumi kept doting on either of us as she explained the theory, “Don’t forget that the honmoon will seal the demons out for good, the demons alongside Gwi-Ma himself.”

“If, in some miracle, Jinu and probably the other Saja Boys don’t get into that sealing process, then maybe… just maybe they can get a second chance, a second life here… away from Gwi-Ma's torturous attacks.”

It was silent. Piercingly silent. You, Zoey and Mira were processing what the hell Rumi's theory was going on about. To be honest, in her case, it was making sense, and it did line up perfectly, but... where's the evidence? What happens if-

“What happens if it doesn’t work, Rumi?” Ah, Mira already caught you to the chase. “It will work, Mira. If we could tell Celine this and what she's told me beforehand, it will wor—“

“She told you stuff…?” Mira focused on that part. Shit. You already knew what Rumi was going on about, but these two don't know. You looked at Rumi in urgency as her own eyes flickered to yours in a second. “Celines told us about the honmoon no?” You chimed in, trying to save Rumi out of the corner, “She’s made it clear if the honmoon is sealed, the demons within that seal are gone for good. We never knew Gwi-Ma would even think to make a demon boy band and allow them to roam freely in the human world.” After my saving, Rumi could finally breathe, seeing Zoey and Mira buy into it. I gave a quick smile and half-hidden thumbs up to Rumi, in which she smiled back gratefully. It did make sense what I said. Its just.. the risk behind it.

“Would the Saja Boys even agree with this?” Zoey asked, already Googling, on the fact that she could keep that purple-haired, face-covered strange guy, Mystery. It made you laugh seeing Zoey always admiring mystery even though she denies all claims so freely. A tug on the dumbbells latched on your heart each time she did, though. Supposing that could be Romance and you… even if it was a fling or just interest.

“We can convince them!” Rumi declared loudly when Mira just smirked like she was the devil herself, cracking her knuckles, “If they do anything funny, I swear I’ll kill them all.”

Amidst everything going down and between the exchanged laughs and perseverance in comedic speeches about the Saja Boys, you noticed something off. At the edge of your vision, you spotted your bedroom door opened ajar. It dawned on you the possibility that Romance had heard everything; how much did he hear?

[evnseokz]

☆ pervy fwb jungwon

req: CAN I REQ PERVERT BEST FRIEND JUNGWON 👅👅👅👅

- pairing: fwb jungwon x f. reader

- contents: perv jungwon who’s also lowk a menace, pet names, mentions of filming during sex, kissing, idek what else

- i lowk made this more like fwb i hope that’s okay 🤞

MINORS DNI

perv jungwon who notices everything — the way your shirt rides up when you stretch, the curve of your thighs when you sit, how your lips look when you pout. he never says it out loud… just files it away and stares when he thinks you won’t notice.

perv jungwon who hums softly and goes, “your skirt’s a little short today, huh?” without even looking up — like he’s trying to sound innocent, but you feel his eyes burning into you anyway.

perv jungwon who has the dirtiest thoughts about you but hides them behind a calm smile. no one would guess he’s picturing you on your knees while you’re rambling about your day — but he is. he always is.

perv jungwon who once watched you sleep in his bed, shorts riding up, skin soft and warm under his blanket, and whispered, “if you knew the things i think about when you’re like this…” with his hand already slipping into his boxers.

perv jungwon who steals one of your panties. just once. maybe twice. definitely more. folds them neatly and keeps them tucked somewhere secret — and yeah, he uses them when he’s thinking about you.

perv jungwon who zips up your dress slowly, fingertips brushing along your back like he has all the time in the world. pauses just above your ass, then whispers a soft, “there you go, baby,” like he didn’t just pop half a boner from it.

perv jungwon who offers his lap when there’s nowhere to sit, then grips your thighs just a little too tight. his voice is soft when he says, “you’re fine right here,” but his cock twitches the second you shift your weight.

perv jungwon who gets hard when you tease him, and just blinks at you like, “what did you expect? you’re straddling me in those tiny shorts, baby. i’m not made of stone.”

perv jungwon who looks like he’s listening when you talk, but he’s actually just staring at your chest — then calmly says something like, “your top’s kinda see-through. just thought you should know.”

perv jungwon who lets you cuddle him while watching a movie, even though your leg is pressed right up against his cock. he keeps his hands still, but his breathing changes. you pretend not to notice. he knows you notice.

perv jungwon who makes the softest little moans when you accidentally brush your hand over him. he always plays it off like nothing happened, but his face gets pink and his eyes don’t meet yours for the next five minutes.

perv jungwon who stands in the doorway just watching you bend over. arms crossed, head tilted, eyes shameless. and when you call him out, he just smiles and says, “don’t let me stop you.”

perv jungwon who jokes about filming you during sex — or at least pretends it’s a joke. “you’d look so fucking good on camera, drooling for me like that.” and when you squirm, he grins and licks his lips.

perv jungwon who calls you “baby”, “princess”, and “sweet girl” when you’re mad at him. and when you roll your eyes, he leans in and murmurs, “c’mon, you only hate me when i stop touching you.”

perv jungwon who whispers in your ear, “you act shy, but i can feel how warm you’re getting.” and when you try to deny it, he presses closer and murmurs, “mm-mm. don’t lie to me, baby.”

perv jungwon who finally kisses you one night — slow, deep, controlled. pulls away with swollen lips and a ragged breath, then says, “been dying to do that. thought i was gonna lose my mind every time you smiled at me.”

perv jungwon who wrecks you soft — fingers gripping tight, kisses messy, voice shaking. and when it’s over, he holds you close, and wraps you in his arms like you’re the only thing that matters.

…

..

.

[dotpointping]

I was indifferent to Phainon at first but now when I look at him I have to resist the urge to write the most gut wrenching tragic love story for this man. Seriously, it's too easy to torture the men of Amphoreus.

Spoilers for 3.4 down below.

This is based entirely on my understanding of the leaks. That being said, I didn’t understand them very well because I only brushed over them lol. 

You were probably just a randomly coded npc made to fill the population of his hometown and just another kid he used to play with. But as the cycles went on, you grew more and more attached to him and subsequently he grew attached to you as well. Or maybe, you didn’t even originally exist in Amphoreus until Lygus determined Phainon was seriously too emotionally unstable and kept fucking up some of the earlier cycles due to his wrath and genuine disillusion with who he should be and what he’s fighting for. 

Either way, you were crafted to be Phainon’s. 

Phainon adores you. You have always been by his side and you have always supported him. You are who he fights for, you are who he returns to after war, you are the one who greets him warmly and kisses the crown of his head. You are the one to tell him that he is doing a wonderful job, that no matter what happens, you will stand by his side and support him. While he may bring about dawn to the world, you are the only one to embrace him when his dawn gives in to night. With you, he is not a hero, but a man. He is the son of a simple farmer and the son of Aedes Elysiae. With you, he does not bear the weight of the world, does not need to placate the people with smile and charm, and can cry as often as he needs. You are always there to hold him gently, caress his face, and kiss his tears away. 

You are the only one to call his name. Not the name he adorns as the Chrysos Heir, but the name his mother and father bestowed him years ago. The one he shed to ascend his role as hero. You say his name so sweetly, as though you were caressing every letter and breathing life into every drawn syllable, until it became unrecognizable from your lips. You beckon him with your gaze, and he can never say no when you bat your lashes at him so sweetly. 

“Rest, my sun,” You would say to him, kissing the curve of his nose, brow, and cheeks. But, never his lips. No, you always made sure to save his lips for last. Instead, you straddle his hips, and cradle his face gently in your hands. You whisper his name again and again, as though it was the only prayer you had ever been taught, as though he had already ascended Godhood and you were his patron worshiper, left behind on the altar as an offering. Perhaps you were— an offering, that is. He is unworthy of your love, unworthy of your warmth and affection, and unworthy of your loyalty. 

And I imagine the first time Era Nova is brought about, Phainon didn’t know everyone had to die. You are no exception— you may mean the world to him, but to this simulation you are no more pieces of code meant to ensure he will bring about the new world. He screamed and begged, cursed the Gods until his voice died and it was nothing more than a pathetic rasp. He had grown so used to fighting monsters and spilling his own golden blood, that he forgot the color of human death. What remains of you soaks his hair and smears across his skin, seeping deep into his pristine white armor. You are the final nail in the coffin that ensures he will destroy the current world, because if not for freeing the souls of his friends, then at the very least, finding a way to be with you.

In those thirty million cycles, he tries to flee his destiny. He takes you far away to the edge of Amphoreus borders, where you live peacefully together, untouched by the Black Tide and Fate. In this life, the floor creaks beneath your bare feet, the sheep bleat in the morning fog, and the cattle graze lazily while he clings to you as you hang the linen. The dogs will bark at every passing bird and the cats will curl like soft shadows in every sunlit corner. There is never silence in your small home, only laughter-- yours and the children's. He will give you as many as you ask for. They will cling to his legs, cry in the night, and tug on his cloak as he sharpens the scythe. You will hum as you work the soil, dirt underneath your nails and sweat on your brow, singing to the clouds until even the sirens fall quiet, greedy for a voice they'll never have. But of course, he should know that Heroes do not get happily ever afters. In these timelines, you always die young. Either you are killed by the Flame Reaver, the Black Tide, or even just Lygus trying to start the story, Phainon is unable to pursue this blissful existence with you. These deaths are the most horrific— where your body is mangled beyond recognition and carelessly tossed aside. Sometimes, he fails to find you at all. Even your children are not spared this gruesome fate, wretched from his hands and into the mouths of beasts.

The world mocks him for daring to dream of happiness.

No matter what he does, you will always part from him. Just as you cradle him to sleep every night, he must bid you farewell in a warm casket of your blood. Once you arrive in his arms, he knows that the dawning of the new world has come. What point is there in this world, when you no longer exist? Thirty million, sixty million, one-hundred million. He will traverse as many cycles as need be. In all timelines, you are his. You saved him from his never ending misery, you are the brightest light of his life, you are an angel sent from the heavens, you are the breath he takes at dawn to keep himself alive. You are his and he is yours.

He will stop at nothing until you are safe in his arms. One day, he will witness the hair on your head turn grey and your face adorned in wrinkles from all your laughter and joy. One day, he will take your hand into his own and he will never have to fear your warmth being taken from him. One day, he will awake in your shared bed as nothing more than your husband. 

But until then, he will continue to rebuild the world anew. He will take your corpse with him as he ascends to the skies, the smell of burning flesh accompanying him every step of the way. Even now, he cannot weep for you, for the tears die the moment they touch his body. He is the bearer of the world, the dawn that shines upon kingdoms and the light that they worship, but he is left behind, left to wander the darkness, searching for the dawn that once called his name. 

In all broken cycles, he will hold you close. From the foundations of your remains, he shall craft anew the world.

[ivorydragoncat]

Inspiring stuff. I've begun to realise that all that modern writing advice gives me more stress and more grief than it helps. If I focus too much on trying to meticulously craft the "perfect story" according to all the conventions, it muddies the water for my creative flow. A story is what it is, no matter how you write it. The most important part is to enjoy writing it, because that will shine through and the readers that want to read your story for how it is, they will come to you eventually.

Trying to apply to a broader audience will inevitably stunt your enthusiasm, creativity and individuality. Those three things are what makes an author a good author imo. Never lose those.

"Write the story that you would want to read" - my best friend, several years ago.

And that is the key to great writing. It's not a science, it's not a construction. It is art. Can it be done as a science? Can it be done as a construction? Yeah! But it doesn't HAVE to be. That's the key takeaway here.

I still need to learn to follow this advice myself. It can be difficult. For some however, the opposite may be true: perhaps you know your style and you got your flow, but you want to appeal to a wider audience? THEN these modern tips can be useful. Sometimes we need a little bit of a structure to build upon, sometimes we need rules we can break with intention to create our own unique narrative.

What I'm saying is that none of the modern advice is necessarily bad, and that it's always good to learn the conventions and rules and trends. But just like with all artistic fields, rules exist so that you can learn to break them in the "right way" to create something new and unique. These old authors weren't just "writing willy nilly". They knew the conventions - at least the ones at the time - and they knew they could break them in the perfect way to entice readers in a different way, or to attract a whole new type of audience. An audience far closer to themselves in taste.

No writing can be for everyone. No writing should try to be for everyone. But all writing is for someone.

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

[nofilterwaterfilter]

also on the voice thing, we all know kris is one of the most autism coded characters to ever exist, but i really do love everything that both routes of chapter four when taken in conjunction told us about kris, being nonverbal, and how that's not painted as a bad thing?

it's pretty common i've seen for silent protagonists to be headcanoned as nonverbal autistic, but i think this is the first time i've seen it be explicitly canon, and also have it be pretty intrinsic to the narrative?

and like no, kris isn't entirely nonverbal, they do speak occasionally. but deltarune in general, and particularly ch4, paints a very strong picture of someone who (at least when they have control over their own voice) does not use words as their primary method of communication

like you can start with quiet people piss me off, or the fact that music is such an important avenue of self expression for them (made all the worse when they're not in control). noelle in ch1 asks if kris is okay when the player asks her the same background/lore questions we can ask everyone, because kris talking this much pings immediately as wrong to her. then there's everything we know about kris as a kid, and how yeah they had a bit of a mean sense of humor, but also pranks and fucking with people was a very good way for them to get attention without having to talk at all

noelle's story of the ferris wheel if you listen to all her and susie's dialogue in dess' room sticks out to me for this, and i really do love that anecdote. noelle mentions she and kris were pushed into riding the ferris wheel together as kids, she didn't really want to be there. and kris didn't say anything the whole time, for the first half they were just looking out the window. but then they decided to jump up and down and shake the entire capsule, and that's when they turned to noelle and smiled. susie goes "is that good or bad?" in response to that story and noelle says she doesn't know, but it's one of the things that gets kris' attention! and whether you believe that they were doing it to freak noelle out or because they also thought this was dumb and wanted to make it more fun for both of them (noelle isn't sure which it was either), that is how they communicate!

and when they do use words. this is the bit that makes me most emotional - noelle in weird route describes kris' voice as deadpan and mumbly. they don't like being loud, they don't talk very often, and they really struggle with inflection. all things that are normally criticisms when directed at autistic people, they're stuff autism moms use to justify their "i know my real child is in there somewhere" bullshit. but when noelle hears it again from soulless kris for the first time since the soul stuff started, she starts crying over how much she's missed hearing them talk. the soul (as we know from a variety of susie and noelle conversations) is louder, more charismatic, more confident and articulate, and it's not kris. so all those traits that are normally things autistic people get told to be more, are explicitly condemned by the narrative

and that's what makes kris being largely nonverbal such an excellent additional dimension to their story. because everything the soul does, at least in the normal routes, pretty much aligns with how people are expected to behave? kris under our control has a great social life, has friends, is likeable, isn't weird and hard to understand. and a crueler person, the kind autistic people have to deal with far too often, would say "well it's good we gave them a voice, they're not using theirs anyway"

but that's what makes it evil! it doesn't matter if kris is the kind of autistic that everyone hates, if there are things about them that don't fit in with society but that they either can't or don't want to change. their life and their voice, as infrequently heard as it is, is still theirs. and they deserve the freedom to use it however they want to