#only reason to know cursive

[nordicbananas]

my friend signed my hand today <33 with pencil.

[ectoamerican]

Things your muse can do. BOLD - things that your character can do! ITALICIZED - things that need some work! STRIKE THROUGH - things they have no idea about!

bake a cake from scratch | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a backflip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive/calligraphy | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a machine | roll their tongue | magic tricks | yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read morse code | pick a lock

[indulgentdaydream]

Headcanon about Jason’s and Alfred’s birthday that is five days late BUT:

From any batkid’s perspective other than Dick and Jason’s, it’s just a known fact that Alfred does not celebrate his birthday. No one even knows when it is.

They’ve tried asking him. He won’t budge. It doesn’t help that none of them even know his correct age so they can’t go off of that either.

“Why won’t you let us celebrate your birthday, Alfred?” Steph asked one day while everyone else was around.

“There’s no reason for me to celebrate anymore. I’ve had enough birthdays.”

Not even Bruce will budge on the matter.

Then, long after Jason comes back. Only once he finally reconnects with his family, does anything happen.

Tim walks into the kitchen one day and sees Alfred and Jason at the counter, bowls around them. “What are you two doing?”

“Baking a cake,” Alfred responded. Tim could see the chocolate flavouring from here.

“Can I help?” Cass spoke up from behind Tim.

Jason turned, a stern, cold glare on his face, “No.”

Alfred reached up and tugged on Jason’s ear for a moment before continuing to stir, turning to face the other kids, “It’s a tradition. Best to keep to it.”

That night, they all sat at the dinner table. Alfred set down the cake in front of Jason, who sat at the head of the table with everyone around him.

Damian was the first to notice the writing, “What is this?”

Everyone leaned a little closer. Surrounded by burning candles, in neatly scrawled white icing in cursive font read, “Happy Birthday Jason!"

Then below it, in thick, sloppy, capital letters, read "+ ALFRED"

Everyone’s confused except Dick and Bruce.

“Why is Alfred’s name on the cake?”

“Because it’s his birthday, too? I don’t see what the big fuss is.”

After everything is explained and cake is handed out, there comes to be a mutual, unspoken understanding.

Alfred had lost his reason to celebrate his birthday. Now, after all these years, he had it back.

[stylesispunk]

"You're the loss of my life" | part 2.

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

part one here

summary: you and Joel went from one kiss to getting married to becoming strangers. In the aftermath, some scars hadn't healed. w.c: 12,9k (longest piece of writing I've ever written) warning: some fluff, angst HEAVY angst, mentions of dead, mentions of blood. Some events of the game will be mentioned here but they are not the same. Please forgive any grammar mistakes, since this one is so long I didn't check on everything. Paragraphs in cursive contain flashbacks. a/n: Thank you so much for the amount of love you gave to part 1, I Swear I can't put into words how wonderful was to read all your comments and thoughts. This part ended up being totally different from what I started writing but is already here, please feel free to comment or share your thoughts with me, I'm really excited to read what you think! Happy reading p.s, there is a a/n at the end :)

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You hadn’t counted the hours, nor the seconds after it happened. The pictures of blood and yelp were the only things ringing in your ears as a solemn sound taunting your worst nightmares, which became real.

Your face was dry from the salty tears dripping from your eyes

“It’s done.” Tommy said, tone somber as they look on his eyes.

Neither you or Joel spoke. He was still, 5 ft away from you, his arms red from the blood drying on his skin.

Sarah’s blood.

Your painful sob broke the stillness that was suffocating you three in a moment where words were not enough to describe the pain. The feeling of being ripped out by life itself.

You tried to stand up, walking towards the tree where Tommy had buried her, but your legs shivered, making you fall on your knees on the grass. Tommy wrapped your arms around you

Your painful sob broke the stillness that suffocated the three of you, in a moment where words were not enough to describe the pain. The feeling of being ripped apart by life itself.

You tried to stand up, walking towards the tree where Tommy had buried her, but your legs shivered, making you fall to your knees on the grass. Tommy wrapped his arms around you, trying to offer some semblance of comfort in a world that had suddenly become so cruel and unforgiving.

Joel remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the ground, his mind seemingly a million miles away. The weight of his grief was a palpable thing, a dark cloud that hung over him, suffocating and relentless.

As Tommy held you, you looked over at Joel, searching for some sign that he was still there, that he was still the man you had loved and married. But all you saw was a broken shell, a man consumed by his own despair.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We need to be strong. For Sarah. For each other.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze never leaving the ground. The silence stretched on, a heavy, oppressive thing that threatened to crush you both.

Tommy tightened his grip around you, his own grief evident in the lines of his face. “We’ll get through this,” he said softly, though his voice lacked conviction. “We have to.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure you believed him. The world had become a dark and terrifying place, and you didn’t know how to find the light again.

But as you looked at Joel, you knew that you couldn’t give up. You couldn’t let Sarah’s death be the end of everything. You had to find a way to keep going, to find a reason to keep fighting.

For her. For Joel. For yourself.

And so, as you knelt there in the grass, your heart heavy with grief, you made a silent vow. You would survive. You would find a way to live in this new, terrifying world.

Because you had to. Because there was no other choice.

Another night had enveloped the sky, the darkness a heavy blanket that seemed to press down on you from all sides. You had fallen asleep—or at least that’s what Joel and Tommy thought—as you lay curled up under a thin blanket near the dying embers of the campfire. The exhaustion from the day’s events had left you physically drained, but your mind remained restless, haunted by the images of Sarah and the relentless march of time.

The quiet murmur of Joel and Tommy’s conversation floated over to you, their voices low and filled with an unspoken tension. You kept your eyes closed, not wanting to intrude, but unable to help listening in.

“I just don’t know how to move on,” Joel’s voice was a strained whisper, thick with pain. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. I hear her voice.”

Tommy’s response was equally quiet, a comforting murmur in the darkness. “We’ll get through this, Joel. It’s hard, I know, but we’ll find a way.”

Joel’s voice cracked as he spoke again, the words tearing at your heart. “I should have saved her, Tommy. I should have done something.”

“You did everything you could,” Tommy insisted, his voice firm. “There was nothing more you could have done.”

Joel’s reply was almost inaudible, a broken confession that sent a chill down your spine. “If she hadn’t been there...if I hadn’t had to worry about her...maybe I could have saved Sarah.”

He was talking about you.

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Joel’s words hanging heavily in the air. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as you lay there, paralyzed by the enormity of what you had just heard.

Tommy’s voice was gentle, but there was an edge to it, a protective anger that surprised you. “You don’t mean that, Joel. You can’t blame her for what happened. It’s not fair.”

Joel’s sigh was a long, drawn-out sound, filled with resignation and regret. “I know it’s not fair. But I can’t help it, Tommy. I look at her, and all I see is what I lost. All I feel is this...anger. And I hate myself for it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. The pain of Joel’s words was a sharp, physical ache, a knife twisting in your gut. The man you loved, the man you had always relied on, felt you were a burden, a reason for his greatest loss.

Tommy’s voice softened, a gentle plea. “You need to talk to her, Joel. You both need each other now more than ever. Don’t let this tear you apart.”

There was a long pause, and then Joel spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can, Tommy. I don’t know if I have anything left to give.”

The tears finally escaped, silent trails down your cheeks as you lay there, feeling more alone than you ever had. The love you had once shared with Joel felt like a distant memory, a fragile thing that had shattered under the weight of your loss.

 The next morning dawned bleak and gray, the sky a canvas of muted clouds. You woke early, the remnants of Joel and Tommy's conversation from the night before echoing in your mind. The pain and betrayal still stung, a constant reminder of how much had changed in such a short time. You quietly gathered your things, making sure not to wake them as you slipped away from the camp.

You needed time alone, a chance to clear your head and process the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. The forest surrounding the camp was thick and dark, a labyrinth of trees and shadows that offered a temporary escape from the crushing reality of your grief.

Hours passed as you wandered aimlessly, the solitude a bitter comfort. You tried to make sense of Joel's words, to understand the depth of his pain and the burden of his guilt. But the hurt was too fresh, too raw, and all you could feel was the aching void where your heart used to be.

When you finally returned to the camp, Joel was waiting for you, his expression a storm of worry and anger. "Where the hell have you been?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "You can't just walk off like that!"

You stared at him, your own emotions swirling beneath the surface. But the words wouldn't come. You felt too empty, too drained to respond. The memory of his confession hung between you like a dark cloud, a silent reminder of the chasm that had opened up between you.

Joel's anger faltered as he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for some sign of understanding. He stepped closer, his voice softening. "Please, don't do that again. I can't... I can't lose you too."

Still, you remained silent, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him how much his words had hurt, how deeply they had cut you. But the pain was too great, the wound too fresh.

Seeing your silence, Joel's face crumpled, the anger giving way to a deep, abiding sorrow. He reached out, wrapping his arms around you in a desperate embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

You stood there, enveloped in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. But the sadness was a heavy weight in your chest, a barrier that kept you from fully returning his embrace. The words he had spoken the night before replayed in your mind, a constant reminder of the distance that now lay between you.

For the sake of your marriage, for the fragile hope that someday things might be different, you decided to pretend. To bury the hurt and the anger deep inside, to put on a brave face and move forward as best you could.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Joel with tear-filled eyes. "Let's just... let's just try to get through this," you said softly, your voice trembling. "One day at a time."

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of relief and regret. "One day at a time," he echoed, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go.

Four months had gone by in mere seconds. The story you and Joel carefully built waltzed into flames, and you didn’t look back after that house was set on fire. You had made your point clear, and you kept an oath in your words. You avoided Joel and forced yourself to pretend he didn’t exist. He became just a stranger you once shared your bare soul and body with.

It was not easy. Not for you, not for him. Your feelings were far from being buried, but in the midst of chaos, you couldn’t allow yourself to die from his words. A man falling out of love with you wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to you.

During the time your garden dried of thirst, a new arrival to Jackson caught your attention. A man. Dr. Matt Carter was a soft-spoken, kind-hearted man with a gentle demeanor and a wealth of medical knowledge. His arrival brought fresh air to the whole community. With his skills and charm, you found yourself drawn to his quiet compassion for others, as if this reeked world hadn’t corrupted him into becoming just a gosht of what he once was.

And you found yourself looking for that.

You and Matt had spent time together, sharing stories, sharing time, and the scars that had wounded both of your hearts. He lost his family during the first days of the outbreak, and you had lost yours somehow. His presence brought warmth to your soul; there was a tentative connection born from respect and understanding, hitting you like a wave.

And as if you were falling for another man, Joel watched from afar; his expression remained unreadable every time he had a glimpse of you in town. The sight of you smiling, genuinely smiling after everything he had put you through, stirred something within him—a mix of longing and regret that he had taken you for granted.

He had taken you for granted. He realized that now was far too late. His actions and choices had driven a wedge between you, and now he was paying the price. You had moved on; you had found someone who could offer you the warmth and kindness he had failed to provide. And he was left with the ashes of a life he had burned down with his own hands.

Ellie had become distant, her eyes reflecting a hurt and disappointment that cut Joel to the core. She no longer sought his guidance or comfort, retreating into her world, leaving him more isolated than ever. And Sophie... Oh god, Joel couldn't even bear to stomach her. The guilt and shame were too overwhelming, a constant reminder of his betrayal, but as he followed the figment of his worst intentions inside his head, he ended up in the same bed with her almost every night.

Every night, the guilt clawed at him as he sought solace in Sophie's arms, trying to escape the suffocating regret that consumed him. He hated himself for it, for betraying you even further, but he was trapped in a cycle of self-destruction that he couldn't seem to break free from.

One night, after another argument with Ellie that ended with her storming off, Joel found himself once again in Sophie's bed. The familiarity of her touch did nothing to ease the ache in his heart. Instead, it only deepened the chasm of regret and self-loathing that threatened to swallow him whole.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his choices pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep hurting you, hurting himself, and destroying everything that had once been good in his life.

He slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Sophie, and dressed quickly. He needed to clear his head to find some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of his emotions. He wandered the dark streets of Jackson, the cold night air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it.

His thoughts were a tangled mess of regret and longing, and he found himself standing outside your house, the warm glow of the lights inside casting a soft halo around the doorway. He could see you through the window, laughing with Matt, and the sight of your happiness was like a knife to his heart.

He turned away, unable to bear it, and walked aimlessly until he found himself at the edge of the community, where the world beyond Jackson's walls loomed dark and foreboding. He sat down on a bench, his head in his hands, and let the tears fall.

Every night, the guilt clawed at him as he sought solace in Sophie's arms, trying to escape the suffocating regret that consumed him. He hated himself for it, for betraying you even further, but he was trapped in a cycle of self-destruction that he couldn't seem to break free from.

One night, after another argument with Ellie that ended with her storming off, Joel found himself once again in Sophie's bed. The familiarity of her touch did nothing to ease the ache in his heart. Instead, it only deepened the chasm of regret and self-loathing that threatened to swallow him whole.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his choices pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep hurting you, hurting himself, and destroying everything that had once been good in his life.

He slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Sophie, and dressed quickly. He needed to clear his head to find some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of his emotions. He wandered the dark streets of Jackson, the cold night air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it.

His thoughts were a tangled mess of regret and longing, and he found himself standing outside your house, the warm glow of the lights inside casting a soft halo around the doorway. He could see you through the window, laughing with Matt, and the sight of your happiness was like a knife to his heart.

He turned away, unable to bear it, and walked aimlessly until he found himself at the edge of the community, where the world beyond Jackson's walls loomed dark and foreboding. He sat down on a bench, his head in his hands, and let the tears fall.

"Hey."

Joel looked up to see Tommy approaching, his expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "What are you doing out here, Joel?" Tommy asked, sitting down beside him.

Joel shook his head, unable to find the words to explain the turmoil inside him. "I can't keep doing this, Tommy," he finally said, his voice raw with emotion. "I can't keep hurting everyone."

Tommy placed a hand on Joel's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "You gotta find a way to make things right, Joel. For yourself and for them."

Joel nodded, but the path to redemption felt impossible to navigate. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted.

"Start by being honest," Tommy said gently. "With yourself and with them. It's the only way you're going to find any kind of peace."

Joel sighed, knowing Tommy was right, but the thought of facing you, of admitting everything, filled him with a deep sense of dread. Still, he knew he couldn't keep running from his mistakes. He had to face them head-on, no matter how painful it might be.

The morning air was crisp and cool as Joel and Tommy walked toward the communal dining hall. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow over the town of Jackson. Joel's mind was heavy with the conversation from the night before, but he knew Tommy was right. He had to start making things right, even if it felt impossible.

As they entered the dining hall, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a cooked breakfast greeted them. The room was filled with the chatter of early risers, everyone eager to start their day. Joel's eyes scanned the room, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw you.

You were standing by the serving area, helping with the morning tasks. Your smile was warm as you handed a plate to one of the residents, your laughter ringing out softly. It was a sound Joel hadn't heard in a long time, and it struck him with a bittersweet pang of nostalgia.

Tommy nudged Joel gently. "She's been helping out in the mornings," he explained quietly. "Trying to stay busy, I think."

Joel nodded, his gaze fixed on you. He hadn't seen you like this in months—so alive and vibrant—and it filled him with a mix of longing and regret. He wanted to go over to you to talk, but the weight of his mistakes held him back.

"Come on," Tommy said, leading him to an empty table. They sat down, and Tommy grabbed two mugs of coffee from a passing tray, handing one to Joel. "You should talk to her," he urged, his voice low and earnest. "It's not going to get any easier."

Joel watched as you handed out another plate, your smile lighting up the room. Just as he mustered the courage to stand up and walk over to you, Matt appeared at your side. The doctor wrapped his arm around you and kissed your temple, a gesture so intimate and familiar that it made Joel's heart ache.

He froze, his intentions crumbling. The warmth and ease between you and Matt were unmistakable, a stark contrast to the cold distance that had grown between you and Joel. Tommy, noticing the change in Joel's demeanor, followed his gaze and sighed.

Joel didn’t know, but your heart felt heavy at the sight of him, weighed down by a complicated mix of emotions. Seeing him standing there, so vulnerable and sincere, had stirred something inside you that you had tried to bury for months.

You tried to focus back on Matt, his kind eyes filled with spark. "Is everything okay?" he asked softly, his hand gently touching your arm.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah.”

Matt gave you a reassuring smile. "Take your time," he said. "I'm here if you need to talk."

You appreciated his support, but your thoughts were consumed by Joel. Despite everything that had happened, the sight of him standing there, so lost and full of regret, tugged at your heartstrings. You remembered the man he used to be man you had fallen in love with.

As you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, your gaze kept drifting back to Joel. He was sitting with Tommy, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast. The sight of him like that broke your heart all over again. You could see the pain etched into his features, the remorse and longing that mirrored your own feelings.

The memories of your life together flooded back—moments of joy, field dreams, and quiet nights. It was hard to reconcile those memories with the man who had hurt you so deeply. Yet, despite everything, a part of you still cared for him and still wanted to believe that there was a chance for redemption.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Four more months passed; that meant you and Joel hadn’t spoken to each other in eight months, and that was everything you could think about. The silence between you had become a constant, oppressive presence in your life. Despite your best efforts to move on, Joel's absence was a gaping wound that refused to heal. During this time, your relationship with Matt has grown closer. He had become a steady presence in your life, offering you kindness and understanding in a world that often felt devoid of both.

So, as these months went by, doubts began to creep into your mind. Every time you were with Matt, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The shadow of your past with Joel loomed large, casting a pall over your attempts to forge a new chance.

Winter was fast approaching, and Jackson was bustling with preparations for the colder months. That night, the town had organized a party. The community gathered in the large hall, the warmth of the fire and the sound of music creating a temporary respite from the harsh reality outside.

You were with Matt, trying to enjoy the festivities, but the weight of your unresolved feelings made it difficult to fully immerse yourself in the celebration. You found yourself glancing around, half-expecting to see Joel in the crowd, even though you knew it was unlikely.

Matt noticed your distraction and leaned in closer, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but tinged with worry.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'm just thinking about everything that's happened."

Matt's expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "I know it's been tough, but we're here now. Together."

"I appreciate you spending time with me," Matt said, his eyes warm and sincere. "It's been easy adjusting to everything here, but your company has made it even easier."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad we met, Matt. You've been a great help to all of us, and it's nice to have someone to talk to."

You squeezed his hand, appreciating his support, but the doubt still lingered. As the night wore on, you tried to push your feelings aside and focus on the present, but it was a losing battle.

Later in the evening, you and Matt found a quieter corner of the hall. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. "I've been meaning to talk to you," he began, his voice serious.

You nodded, bracing yourself for the conversation you knew was coming.

"I care about you a lot," Matt continued, "and I want to take this relationship to the next level. But I need to know if you're truly ready for that."

Your heart clenched at his words. You wanted to be ready to move forward and leave the past behind, but doubt gnawed at you. "Matt, I don't know if I can," you admitted, your voice trembling. "There's so much I haven't dealt with, and I don't want to hurt you."

Matt's expression hardened, and he pulled his hand away. "I can't keep waiting forever," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I've been patient, but it feels like you're still holding onto something—or someone."

Matt's expression hardened, and he pulled his hand away. "I can't keep waiting forever," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I've been patient, but it feels like you're still holding onto something—or someone."

The truth of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had been holding onto Joel, to the memories and the pain. You couldn't deny it any longer. "I'm sorry," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't ignore my feelings."

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand, but I can't keep doing this. I need someone who is all in, not someone who's still tied to their past, nor someone who wants to sleep with me."

Before you could respond, he stood up and walked away, leaving you alone in the corner of the hall. The weight of your unresolved feelings and the consequences of your indecision pressed down on you, and you felt more lost than ever.

You stood up, needing some fresh air, and walked out of the hall. The cold night air bit at your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself and took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts.

The night was clear, the stars twinkling above you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. You knew you couldn't keep running from the past, but facing it felt like an insurmountable task.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder where Joel was and if he was struggling with the same unresolved feelings that haunted you.

Because you thought he deserved it.

The dim light from the streetlamp outside your window casts long shadows across the room, its faint glow barely illuminating the small apartment. You had fallen into a restless sleep, your dreams plagued by memories of the past and fears of the future. The mattress beneath you was thin and uncomfortable, and the scratchy blanket offered little warmth against the cold reality of the world outside.

The sensation of an arm wrapping around your waist jolted you awake. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you were disoriented, caught between the remnants of a dream and the harshness of reality. You tensed, ready to defend yourself if necessary, but then you recognized the familiar touch and the scent that belonged to Joel.

"It's just me," he whispered, his voice rough and weary. The tension in your body eased slightly, but the unease remained.

"Where were you?" You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, the worry evident in your tone. "It's past 2 AM."

Joel sighed, his breath warm against the back of his neck. "Out scavenging," he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We needed more supplies, and I couldn't sleep."

You turned to face him, your eyes searching for his in the dim light. The lines of worry and fatigue etched into his face were more pronounced, a testament to the weight he carried on his shoulders. "You can't keep doing this, Joel," you said softly, your hand resting on his cheek. "You need to rest too."

"I know," he admitted, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. "I just... I can't stop thinking about everything. About Sarah, about you, about how we're going to survive."

Your heart ached at his words. The pain of loss and the burden of survival were constant companions in your lives. "We'll get through this," you said, your voice filled with a determination that belied your own fears. "Together."

Joel's eyes opened, and he looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "I don't deserve you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But I'm so damn grateful you're here."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "We're in this together," you repeated, your voice firm. "No matter what."

You had never told him you had heard the words.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperate intensity, as if he feared losing you too. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest; the shared rhythm was a reminder that, despite everything, you were still alive and still fighting.

As you lay there in the darkness, holding each other close, the world outside the tiny apartment seemed to fade away.

You stood there, staring up at the night sky, lost in your thoughts. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you welcomed the sharpness. It kept you grounded and reminded you that you were still here, still feeling, even if every emotion seemed to tear at you from the inside.

A voice broke through your reverie, soft but unmistakable. "It's a clear night, right?"

Startled, you turned to see Joel standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. The lines on his face seemed deeper in the moonlight, and his eyes held a mixture of emotions that mirrored your own.

After eight months, you were there face-to-face.

"Joel," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged slightly, the motion almost imperceptible. "I needed some air. I saw you out here. I thought maybe you could use some company."

You looked back up at the sky, trying to steady your breathing. "I'm not sure I can handle this conversation right now."

Joel took a step closer, his presence both comforting and suffocating at the same time. "I don't want to push you," he said softly. "I just felt like you might need someone to talk to."

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet night. "Talk? What is there to say, Joel? Everything's so messed up."

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I know. I never wanted things to end up like this. I messed up more than I can ever make right."

You shook your head, feeling the sting of tears again. “You ruin everything.”

No more words came out of his mouth, and you closed your eyes, hoping he would leave you alone.

"How long?" Joel asked finally, his voice breaking the silence. "How long have you been with the doctor?”

You looked at him, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. "We're just friends, Joel. He helps me cope with everything. But it's not what you think."

Joel's shoulders slumped, relief mingling with the guilt in his eyes. "I don't know what I think anymore," he admitted. "I just know that I can't keep pretending like this doesn't hurt. Seeing you with him reminds me of what I lost. What I threw away."

+++

 The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the small window. You and Joel had finally found a place to rest in Jackson, a sanctuary after months of navigating through the states with Ellie. It felt surreal to be in a bed again, to have a roof over your heads and a semblance of normalcy.

You lay beside Joel, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The warmth of his body next to yours was a comfort you had almost forgotten. As you turned to face him, you saw his eyes were open, gazing at you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"I can't believe we're here," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the night.

Joel reached out, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Me neither," he replied softly. "Feels like a dream."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "A good dream."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know it's been hard," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything we've been through... but we're here now. And I want you to know that I love you. Always have, always will."

The words took your breath away. It had been so long since you had heard them, since you had felt the certainty of his love. Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out, cupping his face in your hands.

"I love you too, Joel," you whispered, your voice breaking. "More than anything."

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. You buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside might have been falling apart, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was enough.

Joel’s words cut through the night air like a blade. “Sophie is pregnant.”

You felt your breath catch, the weight of his revelation sinking in. Anger, hurt, and confusion are all mixed together in a tumultuous storm inside you. “What do you want me to do? To kill him?” you retorted, your voice sharp with sarcasm and pain.

Joel shook his head, his expression somber. “It isn’t mine.”

“Good,” you snapped. “I can't say what kind of mother Sophie will be, but that child doesn't deserve a father like you.”

Joel flinched at your words, the sting of them evident in his eyes.

“How do you know it’s not yours?” you asked.

“Because she is two months old,” Joel said, his voice steady but filled with a weary resignation. “And do you think I would have the strength to be with her after what happened?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. The weight of the past, the betrayal, and the lingering feelings between you made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like you care about someone’s feelings,” you spat, your voice trembling with emotion.

“Come on,” Joel pleaded, his eyes filled with desperate earnestness. “You should stop being this unfair.”

“Unfair?” You echoed, your voice rising. “You think I’m being unfair? After everything you’ve done?”

Joel took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I’ve hurt you. But I never wanted things to turn out like this. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Then why?” you demanded, tears streaming down your face. “Why did you do it? Why did you throw everything away?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret etched into his features. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I was lost. I was hurting. And I made a terrible mistake. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

He never stopped loving you; he said those words.

You shook your head, and the pain in your chest was almost unbearable. “Loving me wasn’t enough, Joel. It wasn’t enough to keep you from hurting me. And now... now I don’t know if I can ever forgive you.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words crushing him. “I understand,” he said quietly. “But I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. To earn your trust back. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You looked at him, the man you had once loved with all your heart, and felt a flicker of the old connection between you. The weight of unspoken words and lingering pain hung in the air between you, and you took a deep breath, needing to finally voice what had been haunting you for so long.

"After Sarah died..." you began, your voice trembling. "I know you spent weeks wishing it would have been me instead of her. Don’t try to deny it. I heard you the night after. You and Tommy were talking, and he was telling you not to push me away, and you said, "

"She was our daughter," Joel interrupted, his eyes glistening with tears as he realized how horrible he had been to you. "You know what it felt like to lose her."

"I know," you replied, your voice soft but steady. "It would make you feel better to know I did it too, but that's the difference between us. I would never wish that because you mean everything to me, and without Sarah, I needed you to keep going."

Joel's expression crumbled, the weight of your words breaking through the walls he had built around his heart. He took a step closer, his hands trembling as he reached out to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I was so lost in my grief that I couldn't see how much you were hurting too. I pushed you away when I should have held you closer."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability and regret there. It was a glimpse of the man you had once loved—the man you had hoped he could be again.

"I needed you, Joel," you said, your voice breaking. "I needed you to be there for me, but you shut me out. And then... then you betrayed me in the worst possible way."

Joel nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I know. And I can't change what I've done. But I want to make things right, if you'll let me. I want to be the man you deserve—the man who can be there for you like I should have been. All over man”

You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling over you.

Joel's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours with a mix of sorrow and understanding. "I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of reopening old wounds, scared of facing my own guilt and grief, I thought if I buried it deep enough, it would eventually fade away. But I was wrong."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, the pain of years of unspoken grief rising to the surface. "I was scared too," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Scared of losing you, scared of facing the reality of what we had lost together."

As Joel's words hung heavy in the air, you felt a surge of anger and betrayal rising within you. "You're going to talk about her now?" You spat, your voice tinged with bitterness. "You never mentioned her because you felt it was better to pretend, she didn't exist?"

Joel recoiled at the accusation, his eyes filled with pain. "You don't get to tell me how I should feel," he protested, his voice shaking with emotion. "I loved her too, you know. Losing her was... it was the hardest thing I've ever been through. Because when I saved you, she died,"

"So, letting my baby die was your revenge?"

"It was my baby too," Joel insisted, his voice pleading. "I would have given anything to save him; you know that."

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. "You're..." you started, unable to find the words to express the depth of your pain and anger. "I fucking despise you, Joel," you finally spat, the words heavy with the weight of your broken heart. "Fuck you, fuck Sophie, fuck everything that..."

But before you could finish, Joel's voice cut through the chaos, soft and filled with longing. "I miss you," he whispered, his words echoing in the space between you.

"You have to," you replied bitterly, your heart aching with the rawness of your emotions. "When did you stop loving me?"

"I love you," Joel said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You sighed, the weight of his words crashing over you like a tidal wave. "When did you fall out of love with me?" you asked quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"I never did," Joel confessed, his eyes locking with yours. "You're the love of my life. I would marry you in all the universes."

"But?" you pressed, your heart clenching with the fear of his answer.

"But every time I look at you, I see my baby girl in your eyes,” Joel faltered, his voice trailing off.

"You could have told me,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I don't forgive you, Joel. I loved the old you, I was in love with that man. I had a beautiful girl with him, and they both died that night."

"Stop talking like I don't exist anymore," Joel pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

"You don't," you replied, your voice hollow with grief. "The Joel Miller I loved would never do what you did."

As the truth of your words settled over you both, you felt the weight of your shared grief and regret pressing down on your shoulders. But somewhere deep inside, you knew that the man you had loved still lived, intertwined with the veins of your soul, forever a part of you.

You walked away from him.

As the days passed by, the encounter with Joel lingered in your mind, stirring emotions you had tried to bury. The pain, anger, and lingering love for the man he once was weighed heavily on you, despite your attempts to move forward. You found yourself distracted, your thoughts often drifting back to that night and the raw honesty of his words.

Joel, too, was affected by the confrontation. He became more withdrawn, his guilt and regret casting a shadow over his every action. You could see the torment in his eyes whenever your paths crossed in Jackson, a silent acknowledgment of the wounds that had yet to heal.

One cold winter morning, you were busy with your usual tasks, trying to keep your mind occupied. The biting wind swept through the town, and you pulled your coat tighter around you as you made your way through the streets. As you approached the central square, you noticed a commotion near the gates.

Ellie had arrived, her face flushed with anger. She stormed through the gates, her eyes blazing with fury. Concerned, you approached her, hoping to understand what had happened.

"Ellie, what's wrong?" you asked gently, trying to catch her attention.

She glared at you; her anger palpable. "Fuck you," she snapped, her voice filled with a bitterness that cut through you.

Taken aback by her hostility, you stepped back, watching as she continued her march towards the center of Jackson. You followed her with your eyes, your concern growing. It was then that you saw Joel arriving from the opposite direction, his expression tense and troubled.

Joel's eyes found yours across the space, and in that moment, you realized that something she had found out the truth. The weight of his gaze and the anger in Ellie's demeanor pointed to a revelation that had shaken them both to the core.

The air felt fresh against the skin of your face, but for a reason you couldn’t kept going, you paralyzed as you saw Ellie’s back from behind as she kept making her way towards Jackson in complete silence.

You and Joel had sworn everything he had said was true. You had made a choice for her and th guilt began to creep within you.

Joel noticed your distress, and walk backwards until he was in front of you “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I can’t keep this secret” you told him.

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping as he looked into your eyes. "I need you to be strong," he said softly. "For her. For us. We'll protect her from this, together. We can't ever tell her the truth," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "She can't know what really happened with the Fireflies."

You stood beside him, the enormity of his words settling over you. "I know," you replied, your voice heavy with resignation. "But it's going to be hard to keep it from her, Joel. She deserves to know the truth."

Joel turned to face you; his eyes filled with a desperate plea. "Please," he said, his voice breaking. "I need you to promise me. For her sake. For all our sakes."

You met his gaze, seeing the anguish and fear in his eyes. You understood the stakes, the delicate balance that needed to be maintained to protect Ellie. With a heavy heart, you nodded.

"I promise," you said softly. "We'll keep the secret."

Joel exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you," he murmured. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you, but I couldn't bear to lose her. Not after everything."

You reached out and placed a hand on his arm, offering what comfort you could. "We'll protect her, Joel. Together."

Joel's expression softened. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

Ellie’s words stung, but your concern for her outweighed the hurt. Determined to understand what had set her off, you followed her through the bustling streets of Jackson. The winter air was crisp, and your breath was visible as you quickened your pace to keep up with her.

“Ellie, please,” you called after her, but she didn’t slow down. Her steps were fueled by anger and pain, and you knew something significant must have happened.

She finally stopped near the edge of the settlement, in a secluded spot away from prying eyes. You approached her cautiously, giving her space but making it clear you weren’t going anywhere.

“What happened?” You asked, your voice gentle but firm.

Ellie spun around to face you, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and betrayal. “You and Joel think you can just lie to me? About everything?”

Your heart sank. The truth had come out. “Ellie, I—”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, her voice trembling. “Don’t try to explain it away. I know what happened. I know what he did and what you both did.”

The weight of her accusation hung in the air, and you felt the full force of your guilt crashing down on you. “We were trying to protect you,” you said quietly. “We thought it was the only way.”

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears, but her anger didn’t waver. “You had no right to make that choice for me,” she spat. “I deserved to know the truth. I deserved to make my own decisions.”

You took a step closer, your own eyes misting with tears. “I’m sorry, Ellie. We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”

Ellie shook her head, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “You know, you both deserve each other,” she said, her voice breaking. “That baby you lost didn’t deserve a liar mother.”

Ellie’s words cut deeper than any blade. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the pain of her accusation mingling with the agony of your loss. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to find the words to respond.

“Ellie, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t say that.”

Before you could respond, you heard footsteps behind you. Joel had followed, his face etched with worry and regret. “Ellie,” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Save it, Joel,” she said, her voice cold. “I don’t want to hear any more lies.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, his eyes pleading as he looked at her. “Ellie, please. We did what we thought was best. We were trying to protect you.”

Ellie’s anger flared again, and she took a step back, as if physically recoiling from his words. “Protect me? By lying to me? By taking away my choice.”

Joel’s expression crumbled, and he glanced at you, his eyes filled with desperation. “We were wrong,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “We were wrong to keep the truth from you. But we did it out of love. Out of fear of losing you.”

Ellie’s gaze flickered between you and Joel, her emotions a storm of betrayal and hurt. “I need time,” she said finally, her voice cracking. “I need to think.”

You couldn’t bear to look at Joel. The guilt and regret in his eyes were too much to bear. You took a step back, then another, putting distance between you and the man who had once been your anchor. The man who had become a stranger through a web of lies and broken promises.

“Wait!” Joel called out, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t go.”

But you couldn’t stay. Not now. Not with everything crashing down around you. You turned away, your heart heavy with grief and sorrow, and walked away from Joel, leaving him standing alone in the snow.

As you made your way through the town, the cold wind stinging your cheeks, you couldn’t help but replay the events in your mind. The pain in Ellie’s eyes, the desperation in Joel’s voice, and the unbearable weight of your own guilt. You had thought you were protecting her, but in doing so, you had shattered the trust that had once held you all together.

The night was cold, a sharp wind slicing through the darkness as the three of you huddled around the crackling fire. The journey to the hospital had been long and arduous, each day blurring into the next as you traversed through abandoned towns and treacherous terrain. But tonight, there was a strange sense of peace among you.

You rested your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, a welcome contrast to the biting cold. Ellie sat across from you, poking at the fire with a stick, her face illuminated by the dancing flames.

"Ugh, you two are disgusting," Ellie joked, a playful smirk on her lips as she watched the two of you. "Get a room, seriously."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. Joel's arm tightened around you, a subtle yet comforting gesture. "Jealous much?" you teased back, meeting Ellie's eyes with a grin.

"Yeah, right," Ellie snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. "As if I'd want to cuddle up to Joel."

"Hey now," Joel interjected, his voice carrying a mock tone of hurt. "I'm plenty cuddly."

Ellie laughed, the sound infectious and genuine, filling the night with a rare sense of normalcy. It was moments like these that made the hardships of your journey bearable, the little pockets of happiness that you all clung to.

As the laughter died down, a comfortable silence settled over the three of you. You closed your eyes, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Joel's chest beneath your head, the steady beat of his heart a soothing lullaby.

"We're becoming a little family, aren't we?" you mused on Joel’s chest just for him to listen.

"Joel."

He turned back at the sound of your voice, the familiar timbre soothing his demons as only you could tame them. How could he have messed up all he had with you?

You hadn't wanted to talk to him in so long that he felt he could cry just from hearing his name slip from your lips.

"Hey," he stuttered.

"I-" you started, struggling to find the words to begin a conversation with the man you had once shared your bare soul and body with. Carefully, you stepped onto the porch of the house you had once shared, your legs trembling. "I....- knew... well. Ellie found out the truth," you said, standing next to him, barely touching his shoulder with yours.

"She hates me," Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"She doesn't," you declared firmly. "She's mad at me too, but she doesn't really hate you or me."

"You don't have to feel sorry for me," he said, his voice tinged with hurt.

"I don't," you declared, your tone steady. "I don't feel anything for you, but I won't blame you for what you did."

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he turned to face you fully, his eyes searching yours for any sign of the connection you once shared. "I don't know how to make things right," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“You can’t.” You declared, “At least, not for now. You need to let her alone for a while.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mixture of resignation and longing. "I know," he said softly. "I just... I want to fix things, but I don't know where to start."

You met his gaze, seeing the turmoil in his eyes mirrored in your own. "Sometimes, the best thing we can do is give each other space," you said, your voice gentle yet firm. "Let Ellie process everything in her own time. And in the meantime, we need to figure out how to move forward."

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't even know if she'll ever forgive me," he admitted, his voice heavy with doubt.

"You can't control how she feels," you reminded him, your words laced with empathy. "All you can do is show her that you're truly sorry and that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Joel's gaze softened, a hint of gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly, the weight of his words carrying the weight of his remorse. "For not giving up on me."

You gave him a small, sad smile.

Joel swore he could die just to repair what he had done to you, just for having you this close to him. If one thing had been different, what would it be like now?

The innocence of a first kiss doesn't compare to the stolen glances between two people who once knew everything about each other. And when you said so, you meant him.

He knew you; he drew a constellation in your arms, but he didn't allow you to catch a glimpse of himself in you.

You were a thing—a disposable one.

But he was everything, caring while being careless.

He was human; he loved you, but he was a man.

One who didn't know how to love after humanity had taken everything from him.

"Ellie." You said, looking at her sitting outside your house.

"Why the hell were you talking to him?" she asked, bitterness on her tongue.

"Because I knew you talked" you replied

"Yes, but I don't want you to talk to him"

"I was just checking on him" you defended yourself from her accusations.

"Why? Why do you care about him?

"Ellie-“

"No! He makes you cry every time he is near you, I don't want that.'

"I was part of the lie too and I'm sorry but if you would be here now, I wouldn’t be alive

"I don't hate you. I'm sad you did it, but you didn't make that choice for me. Joel did, he is the one to blame.

"Don't even defend him," Ellie snapped, her frustration boiling over. "I swear, I'll get mad at you for that."

You fell silent, the weight of Ellie's words settling over you like a heavy shroud. In that moment, you realized just how much pain and anger Joel's actions had caused, not just for Ellie, but for you too. And as you looked at her sitting outside your house, you knew that navigating this tangled web of emotions was going to be harder than you ever imagined.

As winter settled over Jackson, the town transformed into a snow-covered wonderland, blanketed in pristine white. The days grew shorter, the air colder, and the residents bundled up in layers of warm clothing as they went about their daily routines.

In the weeks that followed Ellie's revelation, tensions remained high among the residents. The fallout from the truth about the Fireflies cast a long shadow over the community, leaving everyone grappling with their own feelings of guilt and betrayal.

For you, the days passed in a blur of routine tasks and quiet contemplation. You found solace in the routine of daily life, throwing yourself into your work and trying to push aside the weight of your own guilt and regret.

As New Year's Eve approached, the town began to buzz with anticipation. Despite the somber mood that hung over Jackson, there was still a sense of hope and renewal in the air. The residents came together to celebrate the passing of another year, eager to leave the pain and heartache of the past behind them.

The streets were decorated with twinkling lights and festive decorations, and the sound of laughter and music filled the air.

The New Year's party was in full swing, with laughter and music filling the air. The community of Jackson was determined to celebrate and to find moments of joy despite the darkness that surrounded them. You were there, mingling and trying to put on a brave face, when suddenly you heard Ellie's voice rise above the din.

The room fell silent after that, all eyes turning towards the confrontation. Joel stood there, looking wounded and weary, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Ellie's words. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

You felt a pang of sympathy for Joel, despite everything that had happened between you. After a moment's hesitation, you followed him outside, needing to see if he was okay.

You found him on the porch of what was once the house you both shared, sitting on the steps with his guitar in his lap. His fingers plucked at the strings absently, creating a soft, melancholic tune. He looked up, startled, as you approached, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

"I didn't expect to come out here," you admitted, taking a seat beside him. "But I heard what happened inside. Are you okay?"

Joel let out a heavy sigh, his fingers stilling on the guitar strings. "Just another fight with Ellie," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "It seems like all we do lately is fight."

You nodded, understanding all too well the strain that grief and guilt could place on relationships. "It's hard," you said softly. "On all of us."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Any of you."

"I know," you said, your voice just as quiet. "But that doesn't change what happened."

Joel nodded; his expression hurt. "I don't know how to fix this," he admitted. "I don't know how to make things right."

For a moment, neither of you spoke; the only sound was the soft strumming of Joel's guitar. The tension between you was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the love and pain that still lingered between you.

"Maybe some things can't be fixed," you said finally, your voice trembling. "Maybe we just have to find a way to live with the pieces."

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with deep, abiding sorrow. "I'm willing to try," he said softly. "If you'll let me."

"I never thought I would see you with a guitar again," you said, ignoring his words and the way your heart constricted against your ribs at the reminiscence of the man you loved, back when Joel was full of life and hope.

Joel glanced down at the guitar in his lap, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess some habits die hard," he murmured, his fingers resuming their gentle strumming. The soft melody hung in the air, a haunting reminder of a time when things were simpler, when love and music filled your lives instead of pain and regret.

You watched him for a moment, the familiar chords stirring memories that you had tried so hard to bury. "Do you remember the first song you played for me?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel nodded, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory. "Of course I do. 'Can't Help Falling in Love.' You said it was your favorite."

"It still is," you admitted, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Even now."

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound being the soft strumming of Joel's guitar. The tension between you eased slightly, replaced by a shared sense of nostalgia and longing.

Joel finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I miss those days," he said quietly.

"So do I," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "But we can't go back, Joel. We can only move forward."

"I know," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But I wish I could make things right between us."

You looked away, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your mind. "Some things can't be fixed, Joel," you said softly. "Some wounds are too deep."

Joel's fingers stilled on the guitar strings, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "For everything."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "I know you are," you said finally. "But sorry isn't enough to change what happened. It isn't enough to heal the hurt."

"I know," he said again, his voice filled with sorrow.

You smiled softly, a memory from the past momentarily lifting the weight on your heart. "Do you remember when I told you I was pregnant with Sarah back then?"

Joel's eyes softened, and he returned your smile, the sadness in his gaze briefly replaced by warmth. "How could I forget? You were glowing. It was the happiest I'd ever seen you."

You chuckled at the bittersweet sound. "You were so stunned, you just sat there for a minute, speechless. I thought you were upset."

Joel shook his head, his fingers stilling on the guitar strings. "I wasn't upset. I was overwhelmed. It was like everything I'd ever wanted was finally coming true."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the shared memory bridging the chasm that had grown between you. The night air was cool, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves nearby.

"I miss those days too," you admitted softly. "When life was simple, and our biggest worries were about making ends meet, not surviving day to day,"

Joel nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We can't go back to those days, but maybe... maybe we can find a way to move forward."

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes touching a chord within you. "It's going to take time, Joel. And a lot of effort."

"I know," he replied, his voice steady. "But I'm willing to try. For us, and for Ellie."

The mention of Ellie brought a fresh wave of emotion. "She's been through so much," you said, your voice thick with concern. "We need to be strong for her."

Joel's fingers resumed their gentle strumming, the soft melody filling the night air once more. "We will be.”

Your heart began to beat faster—a heavy, suffocating rhythm that filled your chest. For a moment, it felt as if the man you once knew, the man you had loved with all your heart, was sitting right there beside you. In that instant, there was no cheating, no dead baby, and no outbreak. Just you and Joel, the way it used to be.

He looked at you with those soft brown eyes of his, eyes that once held nothing but love and hope. The same eyes that had crinkled at the corners when he smiled had looked at you with such adoration and warmth.

Joel's fingers, calloused yet gentle, reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was so light and tender that you almost didn't feel it. But the gesture—the simple, familiar intimacy of it—made your breath catch in your throat.

"Do you ever think about what could have been?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment.

Joel's eyes held yours, and for a moment, you saw the depth of his sorrow and regret. "Every day," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I think about it every day."

The weight of his words settled over you, mingling with your own grief and longing. You wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had grown between you, but the wounds were still too raw, too fresh.

"I'm sorry for everything," he continued, his voice breaking. "For all the pain I've caused you."

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. "Stop saying that," you whispered. "I know you are."

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if the past had dissolved, leaving only the two of you, bound by the love you had once shared. The guitar's soft melody wrapped around you, a bittersweet echo of the happiness you had known.

But reality, harsh and unrelenting, lingered at the edges of your consciousness, reminding you of the chasm that still separated you. The pain, the betrayal, the loss—they were all still there, lurking in the shadows.

Joel's hand lingered on your cheek, his touch a gentle reminder of what you had once had, and what you had lost. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, even as your heart ached with the knowledge that it could never truly be the same.

Joel leaned in; his intentions clear in the way his eyes searched yours. But as his lips neared yours, you instinctively moved your head, redirecting his kiss to your cheek. His lips lingered there for a few seconds, warm and soft against your skin, a hesitant caress that spoke of longing and regret.

The unexpected intimacy of the moment sent a shiver down your spine, and for those few lingering seconds, you let yourself feel the connection, the love that still lingered between you despite everything that had happened.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

You looked at him, your own emotions a tangled mess. "I don't want to lose you either," you admitted, your voice trembling.

"Hey," Ellie said, her voice breaking the fragile silence. "Am I interrupting something?"

Joel pulled back slightly, his expression shifting from the raw vulnerability he'd shown to a more guarded demeanor. "No, Ellie," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. "We were just talking."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Talking, huh? It looked like more than just talking."

You stood up, brushing away the remnants of tears from your cheeks. "It's okay, Ellie," you said, trying to sound reassuring. "We were just... sorting things out."

Ellie crossed her arms, her gaze still flicking between the two of you. "Well, whatever. I just came out to get some fresh air. That party is too loud."

Joel gave her a small, understanding nod. "Yeah, I get that," he said. "Sometimes you need a break from all the noise."

Ellie looked at you, her expression softening slightly. "Are you okay?" she asked, her concern evident.

You managed a small smile, though it felt strained. "I'm getting there," you replied. "One step at a time."

Ellie nodded, seeming to accept your answer. “Can I talk to Joel?” she asked, looking for an answer

As you walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The tension between Ellie and Joel was palpable, and you couldn't help but worry about what their conversation might entail.

The knock on your door startled you awake, pulling you from the restless sleep that had plagued you for hours. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stumbled to the door, heart pounding with uncertainty.

When you opened it, Joel stood on the other side, his expression hesitant yet hopeful. His presence filled the doorway, casting a shadow over the threshold.

"Joel," you said, your voice a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

"Hey," he murmured, his gaze searching yours. "I... I couldn't sleep. Can we talk?"

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to face him again after everything that had happened. But the sincerity in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself nodding, stepping aside to let him in.

Joel's words trailed off as he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, stirring emotions you had tried to bury deep within.

Before you could protest or pull away, his lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a kiss filled with longing and regret, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

For a moment, you were lost in the sensation of his lips against yours, the familiarity of his touch washing over you like a wave. Memories of happier times flooded your mind, threatening to overwhelm you with their intensity.

But as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving you breathless and confused. You pulled away, staring at Joel in shock, searching for answers in the depths of his eyes.

"Joel, what are you doing?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of emotions.

Joel's expression was pained as he stepped back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know what came over me."

You shook your head, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "We can't do this, Joel," you said firmly, though your heart ached at the words.

"I know," he replied, his voice heavy with regret. "I just... I needed to see you. To talk to you. To try to make things right."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It's too late for that," you said softly, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you.

Joel nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I just had this feeling and I couldn’t sleep." Joel met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and resignation. "I just don't know if I can do this without you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice stirring something deep within you. But you knew that giving in to him now would only lead to more heartache in the long run.

"I need space, Joel," you said, your voice firm but gentle. “Go to sleep, please”

Joel nodded, his shoulders slumping further in defeat. “Have a good night, and happy new year” he said, smiling.

“Happy new year.”

As the next day progressed,

you went about your tasks, trying to focus on the bustling activity in Jackson. The town seemed livelier than usual, with people coming and going, laughter filling the air. But something felt off, a nagging sense of unease that lingered at the edges of your consciousness.

Hours passed, and you realized you hadn't seen Joel, Tommy, or Ellie all day. At first, you brushed it off, thinking they might be busy with their own tasks or simply taking some time for themselves. But as the day wore on and the sun began to dip below the horizon, that nagging feeling grew stronger.

You tried to push aside your growing unease, focusing on your tasks with renewed determination. But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

Finally, unable to ignore your instincts any longer, you set out to find out what had happened to Joel, Tommy, and Ellie. You searched the town, asking anyone you came across if they had seen them, but no one had any answers.

As the evening wore on and darkness descended upon Jackson, your anxiety reached a fever pitch. The streets grew quiet, the bustling activity of earlier replaced by an eerie stillness. And still, there was no sign of Joel, Tommy, or Ellie.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

As you approached Ellie, Dina, Tommy, and the rest of the group, the gravity of the situation became painfully clear. Ellie was hurt, her face twisted with grief and anguish, while Dina followed closely behind, offering what comfort she could. Tommy and the others looked devastated, but it was Tommy's expression that caught your attention. When his eyes met yours, he broke down, the weight of his grief too much to bear.

"Ellie? What's wrong?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"He's..." Ellie began, her voice choked with emotion.

"Tommy?" you turned to him, hoping for some clarity.

"Joel died," Tommy finally managed to say, his voice breaking with the weight of his words.

Your heart stopped, the world around you fading into a blur as the reality of his words sank in. Joel, the man you had loved and lost so many times over, was gone. The ghost of your Joel had died, and now you had lost him physically as well.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to process the enormity of the loss. Joel, who had been a constant presence in your life, was gone, leaving behind a void that could never be filled.

You reached out to Ellie, offering whatever comfort you could, but inside, you felt as though a part of you had died along with Joel.

Joel was gone, and with him, a piece of your heart had died too.

You stood in Joel's house, surrounded by the remnants of his life. Every corner held a memory, every object a reminder of the man he had been. It was both comforting and agonizing, a bittersweet symphony of grief and love.

With trembling hands, you began to search through his belongings, desperate to find something that would make you feel less worse, if only for a moment. You opened drawers and cabinets, sifted through papers and trinkets, but nothing seemed to ease the ache in your heart.

when you stepped inside his bedroom, his presence hit you like a wave, so inoffensive yet so violent, strong, with the force to make you fall on your bum and being trapped by its force.

You felt a lump, the air in your lungs hot stuck and you couldn't help but gasp.  You sat on the unmade bed, looking around, caressing the sheets as if him would step for his door and say sorry for what he did.

The room smelled like him, a wooed incandescent essence you would never forget.

When you lifted your eyes to the bed table, there were two frames. A picture of him and Sarah, and your heart stopped for a moment, thinking they were together now. The second held a photo of the two of you, taken on your wedding day, your smiles bright and hopeful.

Tears filled your eyes as you gazed at the images, the pain of loss washing over you anew.

You turned to see Tommy standing in the doorway, his expression mirroring your own somber sadness.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. "I thought I'd find you here."

You nodded, unable to speak as the weight of grief pressed down on you.

Tommy stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the space with a mixture of reverence and sorrow. "It's hard to believe he's gone," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, trying to keep his composure.

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you struggled to find the words to express the depth of your loss. "Yeah," you managed, your voice hoarse with emotion. "It doesn't feel real."

Tommy wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer as you wept. His shoulder was a sturdy anchor, absorbing the weight of your sorrow.

"I know it feels like that," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded heart.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to come to terms with the truth. "I just... I can't shake this feeling that I could have done something differently," you admitted, your voice choked with emotion.

Tommy gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You did everything you could," he said firmly. "Don't blame yourself for his mistakes."

You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his words. In that moment, you knew that no matter how much you mourned Joel's loss, you would always have Tommy by your side, a beacon of light in the darkness of your grief.

"you're the only one left I have from that life"

"You're mine." He smiled as his eyes glistened "you're my sister and the best one Joel brought home'

You chuckled, trying not to break down into pieces in front of him. "I-he was the love of my life'

Tommy's expression softened, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "I know," he said gently, his voice carrying the weight of shared loss.

All the memories you once braid alongside with Joel, engulfed in fire.

With Tommy's comforting presence beside you, you found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavily on your heart.

"It takes a lot of strength to do this, but... I forgive you," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, as your gaze to the photograph of Joel, his image frozen in time, a reminder of the man you had loved and lost. The ache in your chest persisted, but alongside it was a sense of release, a small flicker of peace amidst the storm of emotions.

The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the bustling suburban neighborhood. Children playing in the streets, and the sound of cars and laughing filled the air.

As you walk down the sidewalk, you see a house that you recognize instantly. The house you and Joel shared, the place where so many memories were made. Your heart aches with a longing so intense it nearly takes your breath away.

Pushing open the front door, you step inside and are greeted by the comforting vanilla smell of home. You hear voices coming from the kitchen and follow the sound, your steps quickened with anticipation.

When you reached the kitchen, you saw Joel standing at the stove, cooking breakfast with a smile on his face. He looked younger, his hair missed the grey you got used to, and Sarah was sitting at the table, her eyes sparkling with joy as she was talking with Joel. The sight of them together, so alive and happy, brought tears to your eyes.

Joel looked up and saw you standing in the doorway. "Hey, sweetheart," he says, his voice filled with warmth and love. "You're just in time for breakfast."

Sarah turns in her chair and grins at you. "Morning, Mom! Dad's making our favorite pancakes!"

The flood of emotions was overwhelming you couldn’t even breath. You took a step forward, tears streaming down your face as you struggle to find your voice. "Joel, Sarah," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Joel's smile faded the minute he saw the tears in your eyes. He stepped away from the stove and came to you, concern etched across his features. "What's wrong, honey?" he asks, his hands gently cupping your face. "Why are you crying?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You reached out and pull both Joel and Sarah into a tight embrace, holding them as if they might disappear at any moment. "I missed you so much," you sob, your heart breaking with the realization that this moment, as perfect as it is, can't last.

Joel looked at you, his brow furrowed with worry. "Missed us? What are you talking about? We're right here."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, trying to memorize every detail of his face. "I know," you whispered.

Sarah wrapped her arms around your waist, her voice soft and soothing. "It's okay, Mom. We're here now."

+++

a/n: I know that you possibly waited for another ending, but my mind ended up in different places. So, just to clarify I could never forgive the words or actions Joel did in this story but since the story was tragic, I tried to portray what it was like for them to navigate a world that went into pieces after the outbreak and how they lost themselves in it, how the reader despise what he did but still had that love for him in her because sometimes, evern when we get hurt by someone we may have a bad habit to reach out that person, and finally, I thought the dream was a tragic way to end the story, with the reader having her moment with the Joel and Sarah since she knew that she and the Joel she was in love with died that night too. However, he would end up dead from beginning so, sorry. I also added the new year eve party because you know how the spirits are during those days, like the hope and renewal that joel was waiting for but the reader no. I don't know if I did a good job, but still, bye, thanks for coming here 💌

+

I tagged everyone who asked for part ii and some who read part one, sorry if I forgot someone, or if you want to be removed, you can tell me.

tags: @immyowndefender @persephone-girl @elliaze @ninasully @whirlwindrider29 @missladym1981 @negansbestie @hobiebrowns-wife @zpandaqueen @ilovetaquitosmmmm @midnightbabylon @southernbe @joeldjarin @hiroikegawa @nothingbutaspeckofdust

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh . . . bsd x reader

tattoos the bsd men have ! feat. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai, kunikida, akutagawa, atsushi

~ fluff, headcanons, dubious grammar

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

osamu dazai ~ collarbone

arguably the sluttiest bsd character, i can totally see dazai having a collarbone tattoo

ALWAYS showing that shit off, like opening the top couple buttons of his white shirt so you can see it *drools excessively*

i don’t think he’d ever get anything with personal significance to him because of the loss trauma he already has

that being said, i think *over time* in y’all’s relationship it starts to gain significance to him

i.e., you always kissing that spot <33

slowly, something with limited meaning that was only meant for aethetic reasons becomes something that makes him think of you every time he sees it

ngl, this scares him a little bit since he’s so used to being left

so you gotta stay for him and let him know it’s gonna be okay <333

that being said, the primary reason he got it was to like the way his body looks again (assuming it’s damaged/scarred under the bandages or he’s just insecure)

so the ink PLUS your affections- he’s so happy <33

chuuya nakahara ~ pelvis

oh lord

i’m sorry he’s just so— ESDRUTFYIGUBLVICU

^ me thinking about chuuya with tattoos. anyways

because of his job in the port mafia i don’t think he’d have anything that’s visible in his normal clothes

but this way it would be EXTRA secret and only for your eyes !!!

chuuya would have a tattoo on his pelvis of your name

some couples have tattoos in eachother’s handwriting, but chuuya is a man of refined taste, so he gets it done in an elegant cursive font (not to offend your handwriting, but it is permantly on *his* body after all)

needless to say, you give it lots of attention in general, kisses and gentle touches

but also during *stuff*

he’s so obsessed with you, PLEASE get matching tatts with him

omggg i can see your matching tattoo being in a roman style all-caps font

whether it’s his name or an important date, he doesn’t mind, just the thought that you dedicated something to him gives him butterlies <33

fyodor dostoyevsky ~ sternum

soooo

this crazy religious man/anemic rat would most likely not get tattoos

whether that was due to his religious practices or just his personal preferences i don’t see him ever wanting tattoos at all

BUT we’re gonna ignore that for this

in this case, i think he’d get a cross tattoo down his sternum

something detailed and intricate, and since he’s russian it would most likely me the orthodox cross

MAYBE if you’re extra special *coughs* useful to him *coughs* he’ll get your initials somewhere & very small (just to manipulate you into trusting him more)(okay sorry i’ll stop-)

nikolai gogol ~ thigh

i know we always talk about this man’s thick thighs but like. LETS TALK SOME MORE

ANYWAYS, i can see him getting something really ornate like flowers or fish or something

i think once you’ve been together for a while he’d get something dedicated to you like your name or your initials

i can totally see him getting it in your handwriting (even if it’s messy, you apologize but he doesnt care <3)

STOP CAUSE HE’D TOTALLY GET SOMETHING DEDICATED TO YOU AND ‘FORGET’ TO TELL YOU-

like y’all would be doing *stuff* or just like hanging out or whatever and you’d see it and be like……baby what is this

and he’ll be like ‘oh yeah i got that a few months ago!’ BITCH??!??!?!?!?

anyways ten minutes later you’re tearing up (after berating him) cause he’s just so <333

bonus crack note: i feel like he’d get something so stupid like a meme or wtv and you’re just like. babe you know this is permanant right. and he’s like yeah i know.

doppo kunikida ~ forearm

drooling at the thought of kunikida with tattoosssss

ageyrdfvjeaiofghrufjn

he would get it on his forearm so he could always see it himself, and it wouldn’t matter about his work uniform because he always wears long sleeves in public anyways

i think he would get something like a picture, and kinda detailed

maybe like a cherry blossom or some fishies or something :))

AND he’d have your name tied into the design somehow in like a really intricate way

long story short, it took a long time for you to convince this guy to get a tattoo since he’s so obsessed with his ideals (getting permanant ink etched into his skin is NOT in his notebook)

BUT after careful deliberation the two of y’all planned out matching tattoos

they’re not totally identical & they both reflect y’all’s styles and stuff, but you have eachothers names/important dates in there <3

sigma ~ nape

i feel like sigma (canonically?) doesn't really feel 'human', and he's not sure what getting a tattoo would be like for his body

idk i feel like he wouldn't really 'get' the point of tattoos and kind of question it

anyways, assuming he's working at the casino, he would want something that would be easy to conceal every day

AND he has beautiful luscious hair.....

which leads me to a nape tattoo (i actually didn't know what this was called until today cause i had to google it,.... but basically it's the back of your neck)

would DEFINETELY get something super meaningful, like a symbol to him or something

he would absolutely tie your initials into it too

overall just. 10/10 he's so gorgeous

ryuunoske akutagawa ~ chest

another one i don’t really think would be into tattoos

similar to dazai, i feel like he’s too insecure/subconcious about his body or just doesn’t care about his looks that much

however, after you convince him to get a tattoo on his chest (he vaguely mentioned they looked cool and then you encouraged him) he gains some confidence!!!

i think it would probably be something that looks badass, like a snake or uhhhh something

i don’t think the actual symbol will have much meaning to him, but it’s what you make of it <3

he loves it when you lay your head on his chest (not quite cuddling fully because i don’t think he’d like physical contact that much) and you leave gentle kisses on it <33

tldr: you help him heal.

atsushi nakajima ~ hand

LAST BUT NOT LEAST OKAY!!!!!

idk something about his vibes and that haircut gives me hand tatt vibes <33

he would DEFINTELY get something that had significance to him & likely something related to you

this boy would absolutely get something with your name, screw that he’d get a whole biography of your entire life tattooed on his entire body in fluttery cursive font

this boy is W H I P P E D for you like. it’s bad

i also feel like he’d get colored ink instead of just black

anyways, kiss his hands and tell him he’s pretty <33

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

part 2 anyone????? also i'll do full fics/drabbles of these if anyone wants (SEND ME REQUESTS PLSSSSS ANYTHING)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Probably a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

Audrey Hepburn:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

[risuola]

DON'T HOLD BACK — F. READER x GETO SUGURU, who'’s as sweet as he's mean to you

If anyone got to know Suguru Geto, they would say that he's really nice guy, very kind and soft spoken, and they wouldn't be exactly wrong, but it seemed like you were the only person in the world that knows that Suguru, your tattoo artist boyfriend, is a meanie.

cw: smut, no-curse au, size difference, spanking, hair pulling, cunningulus, slight description of pain (tattoo related), so many pet names, Geto has tattoos and piercings (yup, that's a warning), there's an appearance od Satoru at the end, reader discretion is advised — 7,9k words

masterlist

If anyone would ask you few days ago what will you be doing on friday at 21:38pm, you’d probably respond with a large dose of confidence, that you’ll be resting in your bed. Maybe catching up on your favorite anime because you had no time to watch the newest episode during the week. You’d be lying comfortably, sipping on your favorite, fruity tea and if you’d feel fancy enough, maybe you’d even order yourself a pizza. That’s what you’d assume you’ll be doing late on friday, it sounded reasonable and reasonable is what you liked to call yourself.

Making spontaneous decisions is not a trait you’d give to your personality. You were always the one to think at least twice, usually more like seven times, before you commit to something, especially when it came to serious things such as body modifications or a choice of college. You were an overthinker, a helpless one to be exact, but that got you through life somewhat safely up until the point of reaching the sophomore year at uni. Your grades were fairly good, you had a little circle of people that were close to your heart, and you couldn’t think of many that you’d actually call your enemies. Being called a bore by your best friend was just a side effect of your usually cold and calculated thought process, but it never bothered you.

That was just who you were – a helpless overthinker – so it’s only natural, that you couldn’t find an answer reasonable enough to explain why on earth, on late friday evening, while the clock was slowly but surely heading towards 10pm, you were standing in front of the deep purple, slightly flickering neon sign that read Curseive.

A clever concoction of something so dark and mysterious as a curse and the intricate art of lines and shapes that the font cursive is all about – it hung up high above the entrance, written in a way that mirrored the conflicting feelings and somehow making it work. It was a tattoo salon, a relatively new one in your area, but it already had many good reviews online – or at least that’s what you assumed while doing the quickest research of your life. If scrolling through the messages left by customers for at most thirty seconds could be even called research. Why were you here? You had no clue, but you pushed the doors open and there was that little version of you sitting on your shoulder that wished you’ll just get asked out, because the salon was closing in about 20 minutes, but you decided to ignore the frail voice in your head and move forward.

When you stepped inside, it was empty in the lobby where the little sofa was situated for those who are waiting and a desk that was probably a reception. Dark walls around you were adorned by paintings that on the first glance looked to you like were handmade. Quickly you found yourself lost in the soft sound of buzzing that mixed with the quiet rock music playing somewhere in the background, as you began examining the artworks around you. One of the walls was made into a gallery of sorts, with the photographs of finished tattoos and printed patterns displayed in an array, supplemented with little descriptive notes and sometimes comments, that you assumed were left by clients. All of them were breathtaking and although you couldn’t see yourself rocking most of those heavy inks on your own skin, you were more than happy to appreciate and analyze. The precision of lines, the shading, the colors and composition – all of those tickled your artistic soul in ways not many things could and maybe it was the aesthete in you who stopped you from decorating your own body until this point, because fact is – you thought about getting a tattoo many times before. You really did and even had a pattern you really wanted, but it just scared the shit out of you to think someone could butcher it up and charge you for the mess. So, you never made an appointment. Until now. Now you were determined to do so.

You took one deeper breath, as if encouraging your own self to speak up and make your presence inside more obvious. The subtle scent of antiseptics and inks filled in your lungs as you inhaled, but instead of giving you more courage, you became more nervous. It’s just an appointment, you thought to yourself, you can always call later and say you have to call it off. Yeah, that sounded like a plan in your head and with that plan, your legs automatically moved towards the exit, despite what you wished to do.

“Running away, princess?”

That voice. You couldn’t mistake it for anyone else, you knew the soft, tender tone that even laced with malice sounded so pleasurable to the ear. You knew the owner, although not that close, but you met him many times – not one of them being all that nice. It was Suguru Geto, one of the biggest heartthrobs in your college. He rocked a disposable, black surgical mask that was pulled down under his chin and a pair of black gloves that he was in the process of taking off. Silver earrings glistened in the dim light of the salon, just as his rings were when he finally dealt with the hand protection. Your eyes glazed over the metallic accessories he had on – that also tickled something inside of you, triggering an unknown fantasy of having those long, ringed fingers of him deep in your… Suguru had nice hands.

“I’m not running away,” you told him, hoping that your voice was as firm as you intended it to be. Spoiler alert, it wasn't.

“No? Looked like it.” He chuckled, throwing the latex to the designated trash. His tone was taunting, you felt so small under the weight of his golden gaze. “Are you lost, little girl? You don’t exactly fit in that place now, do you?”

“You’re working here?” The question slipped through your mouth as if it wasn’t completely obvious from the very fact that he was here, alone, equipped in safety gloves and a mask, so near the closing time.

“Do I work here?” He took a look around himself, taking the mask off his ears and throwing it away before once again looking at you. “It’s kinda my place, so yeah, you could say so.”

That actually made sense the more you thought about it. Suguru was your senior, he was two years older and now finishing college. You had some of the faculties joint with his year and you were always the one to sit beside him – by the orders of the teacher, not by your own choice, although sitting next to him wasn’t that bad usually. You can clearly remember that during every lecture, he was doodling something on the screen of his ipad – something that you never really paid attention to because for your own good, you decided that staying away from the so-called frat boys was the best you could do. All this time, he probably was designing tattoo patterns.

“Right, so-“

“I assume, if you’re here that means you’d like to have something inked, is that correct?”

“Y-yeah, but, uh-“

“Are you 100% about it or did you come here to stutter?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious about your decisions or just mocking your nervousness, but either way, you felt it in ways you probably shouldn’t. This man had some power in his demeanor, and when he leaned over the counter, propping himself on the elbows and looking at you like a predator would glance at his pray, you felt small.

Suguru wasn’t the typical fuckboy, although he for sure was a magnet for the ladies, thanks to his absolutely stunning visual. That, you couldn’t deny – he was just gorgeous, with his sharp features that somehow still looked soft and inviting, the golden irises of his eyes that never faltered from eye contact, manly jawline and long, luscious locks of black hair that he often tied in a low bun. You never seen him in anything that wasn’t grey or black – white when it really was an odd day – but other than that, he was dressing in monochrome and you truly couldn’t blame him. He was a type to make the most boring sweats set look like the sexiest outfit on earth with just the fact that it was him who wore it. Yeah, he was gorgeous, you had to give him that, or rather blame him for that, because his apparition was for sure going to be the beginning to your end. Speaking dramatically, of course.

“I’m sure.” You forced out, mentally kicking yourself for being caught off guard just because it was him. You were never that taken aback near him, but you were also never alone with him. It was easier to stay indifferent when there were people around, when all of his focus wasn’t targeted at you and when that gorgeous pair of eyes wasn’t gazing straight into your soul. You felt like he could read your thoughts just by looking at you.

“Cool. So, let me close and you’d tell me what’s your vision.”

Suguru found your presence in his studio amusing. He’s seen you at uni, you were quite known in his circle of friends that unofficially were called the frat boys, even though your college didn’t really have this kind of organization. It’s due to your friendship with the cheerleader’s leader, but thing is – although you’re close with most of the fun girls, you were most definitely no fun whatsoever and for some reason, Geto found it interesting. And the fact you never faltered to speak up for yourself… How he’d wish to fuck the attitude out of you. He himself wasn’t exactly the type to party until blackout, drink until sunrise or have a checklist for girls to screw at the college. He had no wish to cross any names off of any list. Aware of his good looks, he used them to their limits to make his way through studies smoother and there were not many things that he couldn’t achieve if he tried hard enough. Even the principal of his faculty had a soft spot for him, so many things he was able to get away with. That being said, if he really wanted to have a girl, unless she was really hooked in someone else, he would probably face no issues of getting her. That’s what he thought, until you came to picture. Considering every charm and trick he had up his sleeve, he was almost certain that getting you wouldn’t be so easy for him, or for any of his friends. And now you were here, in his shrine, trying to sound confident when you most certainly weren’t. Adorable.

You watched him pulling down the shades in the windows and turning keys in the lock, effectively closing you both inside the studio and in a matter of few minutes, you were situated with him on the couch, sitting quite snug as you scrolled through your phone to find the picture of your little drawing. It took everything from you not to melt into his side. The way he smelled was intoxicating, a mixture of cedar wood, pepper and some kind of citrus – a tangerine if you were to guess. And the warmth of his body was so inviting. Before being so close to him, you didn’t even notice how cold you were – apparently your shorts and a sweatshirt weren’t good enough for the October evening, even though during the day it still was way too warm for the fall attire.

Geto waited patiently for you to find the picture you just told him about. The sketch you did that was meant to present him the idea of what you wanted to have tattooed onto your skin and as you were scrolling through your gallery, he took this time to take you in. He noticed that you have a really nice profile. Your lips were pouty, just slightly pushed forward and so kissable right now, as you were focused on the display in front of your face. Your hair looked good also and he couldn’t deny the fact that you looked like you’d perfectly fit into his arms. And on his dick. You were way smaller than him, but that wasn’t unusual – he was a fucking giant, but something in your frame made you appear like you’d slip into his embrace just right and that thought make him go crazy. It’s been quite some time since he found a girl so captivating.

“Here, I found it,” you informed, showing him the screen, and he placed his hand over yours, slightly shifting the device so he can see it better. A hum left his mouth as he analyzed the drawing you did. It showed two betta fishes, one black and one white, positioned in circle, as if they were chasing each other’s tails. The pattern was intricate – the fins were ruffled and detailed, scales bearing a little bit of shading and yet, the whole image was quite a simple one. It also reminded him a little about the yin and yang symbol. He liked the idea, it worked well with his perception of you and what surprised him was the fact that he as well had a little tandem of bettas tattooed on his body and there was no way you’d know that.

“And where would that be?”

“I thought on the sternum maybe?”

“Oh, that’s going to hurt like hell, princess,” Suguru chuckled, already opening the new canvas on his tablet. “How are you with pain?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be good,” you accentuated the words with a nod at the end and leaned in a little bit to see what he began to draw. The pencil slid over the grey colored screen with skill that stunned you. Just from memory and the little reference you had in your hand, he quite quickly created the basic sketch of what you just showed him.

That night you spent two hours with him on the couch in his salon, admiring in quiet the process of creating a finished artwork. You enjoyed every second of it, the artistic sequence of lines made something unbelievably good, impressing you to the very core, even though you already looked through the little gallery he had on the wall. Seeing it being put down in real time made it that much more captivating and you didn’t even notice how during the process you glued yourself to him, nearly laying your head over his strong shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

When he was about to finish, you understood why he chose grey background to work with. As the last step, he dragged the white color over one of the fishes and that really made the whole piece magical.

“That’s perfect,” you told him when he tilted the screen so you could see it better. Taking his ipad in your hands to closer examine the creation of his hands, you nearly gasped at the incredible detail he put into the scales, shading each and every one individually. And the tails were so beautifully drawn, perfectly reflecting how they would just flow in the water.

Geto would lie if he said that the admiration your eyes were overflowing with wasn’t fueling his pride. Sure, his clients liked his projects – obviously, cause they let themselves be tattooed with them, but somehow the sparkle in your eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

“Is that so?” He purred, wrapping his arm around your back and planting his hand on the curve of your hip. There was no protest from you – quite the contrary, Geto noticed you even scooted a little closer, but the reason made itself apparent sooner than he’d expect. Even through the fabric of his dark washed jeans he could feel how cold was your thigh when it made full contact with the side of his leg. He placed a hand over your naked skin to check if his senses weren’t fooling him. “Gosh, you’re so cold.”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to shrug it off, but the feeling of his palm pressed against your plump flesh sent searing impulses through your nervous system. Slowly, you became almost painfully aware of how pleasant the near proximity of him was. How perfectly warm he felt next to you and your mind couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be even closer. You actively tried to suppress those thoughts, but it was damn difficult, when he was just right there, so easy to reach.

“You look great in those shorts, but the summer is over, pretty,” Suguru muttered, his voice just slightly amused as he let his fingers smooth over the supple flesh of your inner thigh. He was so close to where you wanted him to be and yet so far.

“Yea, I know. It was warm during the day though. I was supposed to be home hours ago,” you confessed with a sigh, already thinking about the cold you have to walk through to get to your apartment. It wasn’t far, but if you were freezing inside Curseive, you’d most likely turn into an icicle when you get out, considering it was already midnight.

“Well, let me schedule your appointment and I’ll take you home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll set you up for next month, so you’ll have plenty of time to chicken out,” he teased, shooting you a wink and making you roll your eyes.

That night, you did many things you’d call unreasonable. You spent few hours in closed space with a man you probably shouldn’t have anything in common, you leaned into him without giving it a second thought. That night you made an appointment to your first tattoo. That night Suguru carried you home in his arms, wrapped in a blanket he kept in the studio in case someone felt cold during the inking process. And that night, you let him into your bed.

If anyone was to meet Suguru for the first time, they’d probably say he’s absolutely perfect human being. Kind and always keen to help, very soft spoken and caring and mostly, they would be right, because he really was all of those things to the public eye. Before, you considered him a red flag, but it turned out, he didn’t leave you alone after he fucked you. You expected him to be gone as soon as he pulled his dick out of you, you expected him to ignore you after that night, but he stayed with you till morning, not even once letting go of you. You woke up to the soft kisses smeared over your shoulder and a little tickle of his hair brushing against your flesh instead of the cold bed.

You spend day after day at learning things about each other. You got to know how he liked his coffee in the morning, what foods he enjoy and what shampoo he uses to keep his hair so luscious and gorgeous all the time. Suguru noted to himself what sweets bring you the most joy, he discovered that the little scrunch on your nose when you’re laughing is the most adorable thing in the world and he also studied the playlist of your favorite music, finding out you share similar taste when it comes to songs. You spent hours drawing with him, creating designs on his tablet while sitting in between his legs, your back pressed to his broad chest. Sometimes he was suggesting changes to what you created and sometimes you were the one to add some details to what came from underneath his pen.

It’s been a month since you got together with him, or at least, since you started paying more attention to each other. With good dose of confidence, you could call him your boyfriend – even though it wasn’t officially talked through between you two, your actions made it pretty hard to deny. It just happened, after the first night together, you just became closer and there was no need to give it a title, when everyone knew you’re in relationship. You were holding hands in the campus, kissing publicly and spending time together for most of the breaks. You got to know his friends, his brothers and even got the password to unlock his phone. Yeah, it’s been only a month, but your bond with him developed quite quickly. Turned out, Suguru Geto wasn’t anything that you assumed he is. He’s lovely, really. Saccharine sweet if he really wants to be, but what no one seemed to be able to notice was that he really is a meanie sometimes.

Just like now, as you laid on the dark leathery bed in Suguru’s salon, already having enough of this whole idea of getting a tattoo and he only just started. To his credit, he did warn you that it’s going to hurt like hell, even suggested picking another place for your first tattoo with real concern in his voice, but you weren’t anticipating this kind of hell when you insisted you wanted it below your cleavage. It really was something you couldn’t compare to anything else in your life – maybe a kick in the shin, but continuous and in the middle of your chest.

Geto was working in focus, keeping his eyes on the pattern he was permanently imprinting onto your skin and taking little breaks from time to time to check on you. Last thing he wanted was you fainting there, and you felt like you were close. You couldn’t even focus on how the chocolate tasted on your tongue – the one he bought you, so you can have something to snack on during the process. The way his needles were stabbing the delicate, sensitive skin of your chest millions of times made you feel sick. The vibration of the machine reverberated directly into the bone below, enhancing the horrible experience and you could have sworn you were actually hearing the pain, while he was going over and over again through some areas. The choice of white ink made it that much worse, because to even make it properly visible, he had to re-trace the shapes more times and you felt each of them.

“Oh, you’re such a crybaby,” he teased softly, noticing the glistening trace of a tear that just rolled down your cheek. “Told you it’s gonna be a painful process.”

“Oh, shut up, Sugu,” you muttered, wiping the salty mark away and taking another chocolate. “Can we take a little break?”

“Let me finish that one and I’ll give you a minute. Sounds cool?”

“Uh-huh…”

You weren’t looking at what he was doing, and those little moments that he promised will get you that breather you asked for seemed to stretch for hours. The constant, sickening poking of the needles seemed to never end and at some point, you really were that close to just yank him by the hair and throw the tattoo gun out the window, just so he’ll stop for even a moment. But the break never came, Suguru just kept going, telling you he needs to just finish that line until the relief washed over you, when he smeared some kind of gel over the area of your sternum. You felt almost orgasmic, when the cold, soothing fluid covered the burning skin between your breasts.

“You can stop crying now, baby girl, we’re all done,” he all but sneered, making sure to cover the entire pattern with the healing formula that he made sure was enriched with anesthetics. He ordered that specially for your session.

“We’re done?” You repeated after him, wiping away the tears.

“Yes, baby, save those tears for me later.” He teased, helping you get up from the bed and you hopped down on the ground to properly see the artwork in the mirror. The skin around the lines was red, but the pattern itself made you gasp. It was made so beautifully, the lines were crisp and very thin, perfectly mirroring the vision you had, and the white ink? Gorgeous. Suguru put his entire soul into your tattoo, it was a mark he left on you that will stay there forever and sometimes you wished he’ll stay with you just as long.

“You’re so mean,” you grumbled, admiring the shapes that now were stuck to you permanently. Geto laughed quietly and wrapped his already ungloved hands around you, standing right behind and checking his work in the reflection.

“And what’s my crybaby gonna do about it?” He couldn’t help the mock and the glare you shot him only made his laughter bigger.

“I’ll ban you from my bed,” you deadpanned, a soft pout forming on your mouth and you slapped his hand away when he tried to undo the only button that held your tiny cardigan together.

“Then I’ll take you to mine and you’ll have to deal with Satoru sleeping with us. You know he can’t help himself and you know how that will end, right?”

“I know, I know…” you sighed, too focused on the lines that adorned your skin to care about the clinginess of Gojo, although you felt the soft cringe washing over you quickly. The artist in you was screaming, giggling and kicking its legs – the tattoo was everything you wished it to be and more. “It’s so beautiful, Sugu.”

“You like it, huh?” Geto smiled, leaning in to have a taste of you. The kiss he pressed to the side of your neck sent immediate shivers down your spine and you tilted your head as an automatic reaction. Your body knew that giving him more space will result in more pleasure. “I like it too,” he purred against your skin. “No bra for you for at least few days, pretty. I’ll be checking.”

“No cum on my tits either, poor little you.”

“You didn’t just call me little, did you?”

“And if I did?”

“Isn’t my dick pretty much the size of your entire forearm?” He joked, looking you up and down in the mirror. It was comical in a sense, to see what buttons you were eager to push when it was clear as day that you’re just tiny next to him.

"I wouldn't say so."

“Oh, you little brat. And to think I felt guilty for making you cry today,” Suguru shook his head and it was you this time who chuckled.

“You shamelessly tortured me for two hours, where’s the guilt in that?”

“I could have tortured you for three. Am I not the best for making it quick?”

“You’d love to make me suffer for longer, wouldn’t you?”

“Not before, but now I might wanna make you cry a little more.”

You shook your head and followed him, so he could put the protective film over the tattoo and once you sat on the edge of the tattooing bed, Geto pressed not only the second skin to your chest but also his lips to yours. The force with which he leaned against you made you almost loose your balance as the metallic frame underneath you squeaked from the sudden weight change. With ease, the man encaged you between his arms, intimidating your small form with his much larger one. You were no match for Geto when it came to sizes. He is a damn giant next to you – tall and broad, nothing but wall of muscle with limbs long and strong. Sometimes, you found it unfair how easily he was able to overpower you, manhandling you any way he wanted, no matter how much you’d fight.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling his weight overpowering you and you tried to push him away, desperate to catch some air into your lungs but that desperation only made you mewling into his mouth. The cold metal of his lip piercing never failed to send shivers down your spine, whenever he was kissing you like his life depended on it. He made you feel special, even though you were far from it.

“My sweet girl,” Suguru praised, his words being kissed away by you, because as much as you needed oxygen, you also needed him just a little bit closer. “My little crybaby.”

“I think you owe me some kind of apology for the pain you’ve put me through,” you muttered, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth and swiftly taking the elastic from his hair. The pitch-black locks fell down his broad shoulders, keeping the slightest curl to them from the way they were tied up.

“Oh yeah?” A grin stretched his lips and his fingers immediately found their way to the front of your jeans. “I’m not going to apologize for something you signed up for, but I’ll gladly eat that pussy as a form of payment.”

His remark made you roll your eyes, but any comment you wished to throw at him got lost when he pressed his digits to your clothed clit. Suguru smiled in satisfaction, feeling the wet patch spreading over your panties. Desperate to see it all, he pulled back and took those jeans off of you completely, taking your underwear along with it. Cold air hit your soaked folds, making you shiver as you spread out for him.

“Look at you,” Geto smirked, sitting down on his stool and spinning your panties around his pointer finger, “all wet and ready and I barely just touched you. Or is it that pain you’re so whiney about what made your panties so soaked?”

“Don’t focus on that,” you muttered, snatching the cotton from his hands. “Focus on me.”

“So demanding.” Suguru chuckled, but truth was, as much as he wished to tease you a little more, his mouth was already watering at the sight in front of him. You were a meal he’d choose to have as his last supper, the most delicious dessert he could slurp on for hours and never get bored. Every inch of you, he found to be perfect, you raised the bar of his standards to the point he couldn’t even look at other girls around him. You really got him addicted and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The feeling of hot kisses Suguru was planting all over your thighs made you scoot closer to the edge. Usually, you’d let him do his thing – you loved his mouth marking your skin. You loved the bruised spots he liked to suck on here and there only to claim his place beside you, you loved the soft touches and harsh grips. But now, you really wanted him to jump straight to action. Those nips and kisses can wait.

You allowed your fingers to brush through his silky locks, your nails scratched his scalp along the way and he purred softly before a gasp cut the sound short – it surprised him how roughly you grabbed the strands of his hair, right next to his scull and pushed his head nose deep into your pussy. It was new to him, no one ever dared to tug at his hair and when it was you, he was more than keen to get used to it. The stinging feeling of the pull at his hair follicles sent an impulse straight down to his already erected cock, making it now impossibly hard and Suguru was thanking himself that his work attire that day consisted of sweatpants and not jeans.

You couldn’t help yourself, you knew he had the strength to fight you back if he really needed, so his suffocation wasn’t any of your concerns. And Geto took the challenge with pleasure. His pierced tongue danced over your clit as if he was trying to tattoo his own name over the swollen bud between your folds. The mixture of his hot muscle and cold metal made you whine above him, squeezing his hair even harder, pushing his head even deeper. A low, deep purr that left his throat reverberated through your entire nervous system and sipping into the bloodstream, making the pleasure rush inside your veins instead of blood.

“Oh my god, Suguru-“, you breathed out, coming undone just underneath the skill he had in his mouth. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, like he would die if he won’t bring you over the edge just with his tongue, like he was born to pleasure you. A coil quickly began to form in your stomach, a string threatening to snap at any given moment if he’ll continue with the intensity of his actions. Your thighs trembled, squeezing around his head, but he held them apart with force. He wasn’t done with you yet.

You couldn’t control the way his name was leaving your mouth; it came out like a prayer that he’d love to listen on repeat for the rest of his life. A music that filled his ears with pleasure and that pleasure seeped down, creating a river of ecstasy running down straight to his straining cock. You really got him to the point he felt he’s going to cum in his pants, but then the hold on his hair loosened. He used that moment to catch a breath before going back to his work.

“Don’t hold back,” he purred, keeping your hand where it belonged over his head, getting rid of any guilt you felt regarding pulling at his hair. You came not long after and he happily slurped you through the bliss, licking away everything you gave him, devouring your pussy as if nothing better was ever going to happen to him. “So sweet,” he grinned, finally pulling away. His face covered with your slick and hair messed up from where you held it, and he looked so beautiful like that when you looked back at him. Surrounded by haze of your release, he looked nearly angelic when he got up, pushing back the stool and taking his rightful place between your still trembling thighs. Giving you a moment to collect yourself, Suguru used it to take off his t-shirt for no other reason that to feel your hands over his skin and you were quick to press your palms over his tattooed flesh.

Geto’s body was only one of things that were impressive about him, but unarguably one of the most breathtaking. Years of training martial arts made his shape resemble the stone statues of gods. A hard wall of muscles covered with a light layer of soft skin and adorned by black lines of ink. You never failed to trace your fingers along the dragon that curled around his entire arm and spreading onto his chest. He also had a line of letters underneath the side of his ribcage and two betta fishes swimming up along his spine, following a trace of abstract lines and dots. He had told you once about the meanings beside all of images that adorned his body, but you couldn’t recall them now as he was once more kissing you feverishly. You tasted yourself all over his mouth, you took in his purrs and low groans that vibrated in his throat when you pushed down the waistline of his sweatpants, palming him through his boxers.

Geto grabbed your thighs, repositioning you closer the edge.

“Shouldn’t I avoid any physical activities with that tattoo so fresh?” You asked him with the littlest teasing undertone and he grinned, kissing your lips and everywhere around them with fervor.

“I’ll go slow, babygirl,” he promised, but slow is hardly the word he’d use once he pushed his girth into you. If you were a drug, Suguru was addicted to the point of no return, he never had enough of you, always too little, always eager for more and more and more. You were a godsend to him, a gift he was certain he never deserved but he cherished it with all of his might. Just like with all of his might he began thrusting into you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking them above his pelvis as if you needed to make sure he’s not going anywhere. Soft pants and whimpers were leaving your mouth every time his hips collided with yours and the sounds you were making concocted an erotic symphony with the low grunts he let slip through his throat. The melodic line of mixed voices, quiet praises and heavy breaths accompanied the desperate squeaking of the bed below you and wet reminders of how he was fucking into your dripping pussy.

Every ruthless push and pull of his hips sent surges of pleasure through your body. Lust and heat erupted inside of you like a volcano and the searing lava of endorphins turned your brain into a flurry. The room around was lapsing, nothing else mattered and even the untrusty bed underneath you, that held there just barely underneath the force of Suguru’s relentless slams couldn’t bother you when he was fucking you that good.

Flaming hot waves of white covered your vision as you hid your face in the crook of Geto’s neck. Panting for air, you held onto his shoulders harshly, digging your nails into the flesh there and marking it in red with crescent moons and scratches. The stinging pain made him whine in excitement, the sound low and prolonged enough to make your walls clench and flex around him. The stretch of his cock was setting your mind ablaze along with your body, your heart was beating fast and threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Sugu-ru-ah~”, you were panting, whimpering shamelessly under the force of his pelvis slamming against yours and he grinned above you, his grip over your hips merciless and bruising.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, smearing wet kisses along the line that led from underneath your ear to your shoulder. Something incoherent left your mouth and you felt yourself close, the swollen walls of your pussy squeezing him repeatedly and he knew you were close but wasn’t ready to give it to you quite yet.

It’s like you blacked out for a moment because it felt like you barely blinked and then your position changed. You didn’t notice how swiftly Geto slid onto the bed himself, situating you over his lap.

“Hop on baby, work for it a little,” he mocked lovingly, giving your ass cheek an encouraging slap. There was barely enough place for the two of you, but you made it work anyway, sliding back down onto his dripping from your juices cock. A soft moan escaped your lips as his girth once again squeezed into your oversensitive insides, pushing against every sweet spot on the way and making you shiver as the tip kissed your cervix. Desperate to feel more of him, you began rolling your hips, working your way into the palace of pleasure that Suguru Geto was and making the most out of the current position. His exposed chest and neck begged to be devoured and you couldn’t leave them neglected, so your mouth was on his skin in no time.

Suguru kept bucking his hips upwards, gasping and growling underneath you. His hands left burning marks over your ass, each slap sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body and the little whines you were letting out against his skin fueled the intense fire that burned inside of him even more. Sometimes Geto couldn’t believe you really were with him. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he’s high on something, maybe he’s imagining you, but only thing he really was high on, was you. Nothing could compare to the way your tight pussy swallowed his cock, to the way your little hands were grasping his arms and shoulders just to steady yourself when his force was becoming too much and absolutely nothing could stand even close to the intoxicating feeling of your lips on top of his. You really were made just for him, it had to be fate that once you stumbled upon his studio. He still remembers the first time you let him in, spontaneously inviting him over and after that, every day seemed to be somehow better than the previous one. Every minute he spent with you managed to surprise him with how good it felt. Suguru was hooked on you. But how could he not, when you had the ability to strip him of everything that was cool about him, leaving him raw and sensitive just for you?

“Fuck, c’mon, cry for me,” he panted, forcing your hips to move even when you clearly were running low on power. Your entire body was tensing, the velvety walls of your pussy squelching over his length and he felt himself flexing inside the hot embrace of you. The rush of ecstasy sent him overboard, it filled his veins and neurons with blissful daze of desire, and he found himself chasing the high, bracing for the impact of upcoming climax.

You whined and melted into him, lost in the haze and diving head first into the puddle of pleasure. The feeling overtook you, you couldn’t think anymore when he was pulling you underneath the euphoric sea. You felt light from pleasure, the ferocity of his movements burning you inside out, sending seething waves throughout your entire form. With vision blurred, nothing felt real anymore and if not for the rough grip he had on your hip and ass, you’d probably fly away and never get back.

Lost in the stars and haze of orgasm, you pushed yourself up, encouraged by few more harsh slaps and Geto followed you to sit up for no other reason than to be able to still taste you. At this point you were sure he tattooed not only betta fishes onto your chest but also the imprint of his hands to your butt cheeks. Gathering every last bit of strength you had in your muscles, you rolled your hips against him few times more. All of the intensity that was building inside of you snapped suddenly. Your spine arched and head rolled back, exposing your neck and chest to his kisses as he pushed you over the edge of bliss and you fell off that cliff with nothing but acceptance. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face and Geto was quick to kiss them away as they gathered along your lashes and down your jawline.

The weak sound of his name slipping down your tongue was enough for Suguru to let go. White hot ribbons of cum sprayed deep inside you as you rode him through both of your orgasms, the movements of your hips now slower and sloppier, bearing no more strength in them and yet, time after time you pulled them back and forth, desperate to feel him a little longer, to take more from him.

“My little crybaby,” he cooed, when you finally run out of battery, settling down on him and leaning against his broad chest, hiding there to catch your breath. You were sore, still overwhelmed by the avalanche of feelings that just fell over your head but satisfied to the point of delirium – so much so that you let the little honey-covered taunt slip. Suguru smoothed your back softly, relaxing in your proximity, once again stunned how somehow, you managed to make all of it feel better than the last time you slept together. Highs with you were unforgettable. Nonreplaceable. Incomparable to anything else he ever felt with anyone.

“Thanks god you’re strong,” you muttered against his skin, planting there few kisses while you’re at it. “I don’t think my legs will work after that.”

Geto chuckled. Yeah, he was going to marry you one day.

“No worries, sweet thing, your place in my arms is secured for lifetime.”

“Good.”

“But first, let me get you cleaned up.”

Your legs were weak when you got off of him, but surprisingly carried you enough to allow you to slowly pull yourself together. Suguru cleaned the space a little while you got dressed and made sure the protective film over your fresh tattoo was unharmed during the activities before you buttoned up your cardigan.

* * *

“Suguru, you still here?” Gojo stormed in, even though the studio was locked, but truth was, nothing could really be locked when it came to Satoru.

“Don’t tell me you copied the keys to my studio.” Geto chuckled, finishing the final wipe of the bed. There was no force that could stop his friend from invading his spaces, he dropped the effort years ago.

“I won’t tell you, you got this.” Satoru shrugged and looked at you. Then at Suguru and back at you, repeating that at least few times. “Were you two fucking here?”

“And why would you ask that?”

“No, the real question is, did that thing endure it?” White haired man pointed at the leathery bed. “What a champ, I thought it’ll collapse.”

“Fair,” you admitted at the same time as Suguru, and handed your man the hair elastic that you snatched from him earlier.

“So, what were you doing here? Besides contaminating the area of course.”

“I got a tattoo,” you replied to him and Satoru grinned.

“For real? That chest piece he told me month ago that you’ll for sure chicken out for?”

“Yeah, that one.” This time it was you who laughed and Geto just shrugged, tying up his hair.

Satoru wasted no time, it’s like he teleported to you and before you registered what was happening, he was already unbuttoning your blouse and truly, you couldn’t really be bothered. It’s been only a little less than a month since you really got to know Gojo, but it was very quickly presented to you that him and your boyfriend have a thing for sharing. It was as natural for them as breathing and whenever you saw them together, you wondered how it happened that they weren’t brothers by blood.

“It’s so cool, Suguru. Who knows, maybe I’ll let you tattoo something on me too.” Snow white grinned, examining the concoction of lines over your sternum. He had to bend in half almost, to be in line with the pattern on your skin so you brushed through his hair, messing them more than they were already.

“Not that it’s my life mission to do so, Satoru.” Geto stretched his body and glanced over the room once more, making sure he can close the studio for that day without leaving any visible remnants of what happened just moments ago.

“Doesn’t it kinda look like us?” Gojo asked, stopping you before you covered yourself back. “The black and white contrast… am I the only one who think so?”

It wasn’t your intention, but as he said it, you began seeing it. It really made sense, especially considering that Geto mixed the tiniest bit of lavender ink to the white, to prevent it from yellowing over time. That lavender coincidentally being the exact shade as the undertone of Gojo’s hair.

“Well, not anymore,” the black haired one sighed and once you managed to button up your blouse, he swooped you up into his arms. “You’re gonna lock the doors, Satoru. Turn off the lights.”

“Sooo…” Gojo nearly sang, flicking off the switches and turning the keys in the locks, making sure everything is well secured before he joined you two, already walking slowly towards your home. “Are you ours now?”

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

Alt text is so incredibly useful when it comes to speakers of other languages. I follow a bunch of fiber artists from different parts of the world, Ukrainian fashion designers and Chinese antique garment collectors and Iranian university professors of textile art history. There are discussions happening in different languages, and resources like books and scholarship, simply not available in the English or French I know.

And a lot of them never even use the Latin alphabet a lot of the time! So sometimes I can photograph a book page or screencap an Instagram story and get my phone's OCR to give me text to paste into Google Translate, and I can sometimes use a Cyrillic keyboard to type out what I'm seeing, but but as soon as something is antiquated or handwritten or viewed at an angle, my goose is cooked. I can't even get the original phrase to try to translate at all.

Unless there's alt text. Because alt text gives me exactly the data I need in the exact right format to take to a dictionary and get the gist of what's going on.

It makes me reconsider how my own content is accessible or inaccessible not just to blind or visually-impaired people, but people who aren't perfectly fluent in English. Because I and a lot of my friends are native English speakers who usually only speak 1-2 languages total, I'm prey to assuming that everyone in my intended audience is like us. That of course everybody can easily process English text, whether it's printed or written in cursive or using some antique calligraphic hand. And of course, that's not true. Now when I look at my analytics for my business's rare medieval name, I occasionally see translation site traffic where people in Farsi or Ukrainian or Chinese have translated me in return.

The curb-cut effect is a wonderful thing, I think. The primary reason I've used alt text is a good one, and it also turns out that it's really useful for a lot of other people too.

[jigeuminunbich]

cherie amour | han dongmin (taesan)

synopsis in which dongmin finds himself falling head over heels for the regular that comes into his job (at a vintage record shop) every afternoon.

genre college!au, fem!reader, s2ls (strangers to lovers), and fluff

warnings halfway proofread ngl, kinda has a princess & the pauper vibe (reader is quite privileged & goes to an elite college), quite a few awkward pauses and bashful stares, and dongmin can’t flirt for the life of him

word count 2k

a/n first ff out of the neo realm, hope you all enjoy!

track-list my cherie amour x stevie wonder, can i call you rose? x thee sacred souls, and all i do is think of you x the jackson 5

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Dongmin’s face. The rickety fan his boss had found from storage was doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the wrath of the summer heat— and the fact he refused to turn on the air conditioning wasn’t helping him in the slightest either.

Despite feeling like he had been transported to the sixth circle of hell, Dongmin didn’t mind his job, it had actually been a juvenile dream of his to work in a place much like this. Somewhere with artifacts filled with history, antique furniture and decor, a devoted community of customers— and surely, that’s what he got following being hired for this position.

But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be overworked as one of the few underlings for his incompetent boss who had inherited the place and having to endure the smell of what could only be described as vintage.

The continuous buzzing of the fan that whirred beside Dongmin’s propped, beat-up sneakers was muffled for a brief moment as in came one of the meager reasons he decided to put up with his job— only, even.

You.

Following the chime on the door, a wave of heat entered the record shop but you graciously came with it, so Dongmin couldn’t really complain. You greeted him with a smile as he hurriedly straightened in his seat and adjusted his posture stiffly. The smile was returned to the best of his abilities, but he’s sure it came off wonky and jarring.

Silently, you waltzed around the shop. It wasn’t very big, and he’s positive you’ve walked each aisle at least a few dozen times but it still had you coming back every other afternoon.

It was ritualistic for you to stumble into the small-scale record shop nestled between an antique boutique and a genuine crystal shop— Dongmin had become hip to this months ago when he had first began working here. Though, it was obvious to him that you had been doing this a lot longer than his time, judging by the way you interacted with veteran staff and even that dense boss of his.

You were around his age, clear from the cardigan you wore that was proudly embroidered in fancy cursive of what he discovered was your home school— the elite college that rivaled his. It had been an initial thought of his that maybe you were an alum and just liked the comfort that the sweater offered but after miraculously seeing you at a rival game between your two schools’ football teams— he knew for sure that you were close in age.

Unfortunately for him, those were the only details he had found on you. Alleged things about you floated around between his coworkers and to his own ears but he ignored them for solid truth. The truth was, you were clearly a devout music lover from a realm he didn’t know of, a school he could only dream of attending, and a lifestyle he had absolutely no experience in.

“Anything new that you recommend?” At the arriose sound of your voice, Dongmin came to a realization that he had been staring at you for far too long.

Under your curious gaze, he stilled. Nearly forgetting to breathe over the fact you were speaking to him. Another fact he had come to realize, is that you enjoyed your solitude. It wasn’t often that you spoke to him outside of your purchase of a vinyl or the rare CD. But when you did, Dongmin always fell into the same trap as if it was happening for the first time again.

“I—uh— what’s your genre?” He knew this already. You had an affinity for 60s music— he came to conclude from the dozen of vinyls he had previously rung up for you.

You hummed, glancing to the spotty ceiling as you contemplated. “I always go for oldies. Anything recent that you like?” As you asked this, you drew closer to the counter where Dongmin was quickly breaking out into a cold sweat over the fact you were verily nearing closer to him.

Your eyes didn’t waver from him, it was clear that you were genuinely interested in his own opinion.

“Well, I don’t listen to too much recent stuff myself, actually.” He managed to respond, not having the capacity to filter his honesty.

Now opposite of him by the counter, you giggled. Dongmin swore his heart skipped a beat, or two for that matter.

“Well, I guess you’re no help then?” Your voice lilted with humor, your head tilting.

“Heh. No, I guess not…” To Dongmin, he was sure your bout of conversation would end here. You would choose something along the lines of your usual, get rung up with some sort of small talk, and go on about your day while he finished out his shift wallowing about how he wished he could’ve said more to you.

“What’s your genre, then,” you squinted momentarily to double-check his nametag. “Dongmin?”

For a moment, Dongmin had forgotten his name was his own. You watched him blink at you for a few beats before visibly collecting himself.

“Me? Well, I like rock— like Nirvana and My Chemical Romance. But I like easy listening stuff too…”

You nodded, “I assumed just as much.”

Dongmin’s eyebrows shot up into his fringe, eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

An endeared smile etched onto your lips instantly. “Yeah, every time you’re here they’re always playing over the speakers. But I hear the Carpenters every now and then, too. You have good taste.”

Dongmin fought the flattered expression that attempted to spread across his features, clearing his throat in an effort to swallow his excitement. “Thanks.”

You nodded, a silence floating in the air as you two both seemed to wait for the other to carry on the conversation. With the atmosphere starting to feel cramped, you open your mouth to ease the awkwardness but Dongmin thankfully beats you to it.

“We—uhm— actually just get in some new vinyls that I think you might like…”

You visibly perk up at this. “Did you?”

Dongmin nods, his tone coming off a bit hesitant. “Well, you get a rotation of the same artists, I noticed…”

Your laughter eases the weight on his shoulders, he finds himself smiling fondly as you nod your head in agreement. “No, yeah, I do. I guess I’m quite predictable,”

Dongmin shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I think your music taste is good too.”

You find yourself smoothing a hand over your jacket, flattered. “Thank you,”

“No problem.”

You both lock eyes for a beat longer than expected, your own being the ones to flit elsewhere as could feel the flutter of butterflies swarm in the base of your belly. Dongmin’s gaze on you is only interrupted when you clear your throat before speaking again.

“Did you want to show them to me?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” As if he had been split from a trance, Dongmin lurches back into reality to begin leading you towards a dusty corner of the shop.

A giggle leaves you as you follow close behind. “No worries.”

It’s safe to say Dongmin did not fabricate that the new selections would be to your liking. You find yourself rifling through the crate carefully, multiple familiar artists’ cover arts calling your name. Dongmin can’t help but admire you as you work your way through the vinyls with pure amazement in your eyes.

“Anything catch your eye?” He gestures toward the basket that you were leisurely searching through.

Your gaze shifts upwards to where Dongmin is standing, sheepishly remembering that he was there. “A lot. I’m supposed to be on a budget for stuff like this but— Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this,” you excitedly pull out a yellowed Lesley Gore vinyl.

Dongmin’s amused laughter catches your attention and you roll your eyes at him before shaking your head. “Damn, why’d you have to know me so well?”

“Heh. I can get you a discount, if you’re interested?” Dongmin approaches you, delivering his sentence carefully to test your reaction.

You jerk away in surprise, shocked that Dongmin would even offer to do that for you. But you can tell he’s genuine as he watches you intently awaiting your response. “No, no. I just need to practice some self-control…”

“You sure? I can’t promise that old guy won’t buy up all the Marvin Gaye in here…” You follow his hands as they skim the top of the distressed and begrimed vinyls, almost like a hypnosis.

A huff leaves you, the memories of your elder competition that most likely had no idea was your competition coming to mind. “Shit— you’re right. Okay, fine. I’ll indulge myself just this once.”

You decide to humor Dongmin and yourself, picking through the crate again to remove several LPs that caught your attention. Dongmin nods, finding confidence in being able to bond with you. After you make your final decision, you both head back over to the counter to finalize your transaction.

“You didn’t have to do this, y’know. I’m sure this is actually against the rules…”

“Nah. It’s fine my boss does it all the time for customers he likes too—“ Dongmin realizes his slip of tongue a little too late, his expression reminding you of a deer in the headlights.

“Really now?” You muse.

“Uh—yeah,” Dongmin coughs. “That’s your total…”

Your eyebrows jump instinctively at the outcome, gladly digging around in your bag for your card. “Damn. I’m glad you like me because inflation is killing me right now, here,”

Dongmin accepts your payment and you don’t miss the way he avoids your eyes bashfully. When everything is squared away, your hefty bag in hand, he decides he’s capable of addressing you head on.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then?” He visibly forces out, internally hoping it comes across as natural (he doesn’t).

You nod automatically but have a sudden train of thought that you decide to take a chance and verbalize. “Actually… do you get off any time soon?”

The boy across from you is clearly stunned at the inquiry, blinking at you a couple times before answering. “Uh— in about an hour, actually…”

“Cool. I’ll be at the café across the street, if you don’t have anything to do that is… I feel like it’s only right that I repay you…” The last of your sentence trails off as you feel you’re rambling on, but Dongmin couldn’t have looked more interested in you.

“No! I mean, I don’t have anything to do— I’m free, yeah.” Dongmin shuffles, setting himself in a pose that he hoped conveyed how nonchalant he wanted to be but was clearly failing to do so.

You find yourself amused with his antics— a bit flattered as well. “Alright then, see you in an hour?” He nods intently while he watches you back away from the till.

“An hour it is.” He affirms, returning the wave you spare him before the shop’s door chimes again. Promptly, your warmth leaves him to the humidity of the shop. But he holds his pose knowing he’ll be engulfed in it once more.

© jigueminunbich ‘24

[catiuskaa]

silly little promises.

SUMMARY: unspoken promises to stay away from your brother’s best friend might work for some, but not when kim seungmin is said man.

WC: 3.1k

CW: mentions of smoking weed, shotgunning, mentions of (fake)enemies to lovers?, slight pain kink?, use of “puppy, darling, beautiful, master”, fingering (f rec.), protected piv sex, (slight meanie?) hard!dom!seungmin, + artistic liberties regarding use of cursive because yes, and I think that’s all, folks!

PAIRING! smoker!seungmin x reader

[☆★🚭★☆]

Kisses in New Year meant nothing.

You wouldn’t have said this a month ago. Not in a chance, considering you and your loving boyfriend were stepping together into 2024.

Or. Well. You were going to.

Because when you turned around to face your boyfriend in midnight, he wasn’t there. You thought he was in his apartment, resting with a cold.

Oh, no.

He was a couple people behind you.

With someone else.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the party.” A low voice greeted cheekily.

You shoulders tensed up slowly.

“You shouldn’t smoke, you know.” You snickered, smiling politely at the silhouette that was leaning against the fence in the terrace.

That sentence you said was as empty as words could be.

Years after years, as someone who wasn’t really close to their family, the only moment you saw each of your close relatives was in events, like weddings and funerals. Or, in this case, New Years. Yet, for some reason, Kim Seungmin could —and would— always tag along.

Always next to your brother, Felix and him were attached to the hip. And, despite the fact that you had known him ever since you had memory, you needed that sentence, because it would secure a reaction in him.

He would roll his eyes. Like how he had done just now.

And usually, he would do that and go fetch your brother, dropping the ciggarette in the terrace of his shared appartment, stepping on it, staining the stone just slightly each time.

“Well, my grandmother got to live a hundred years.”

Huh? Your eyebrows shot up, almost innocently.

You fidgeted with your rings, hands gripping the fence in the terrace. As a seven-store building, you thought maybe you could focus on the small-looking mundane views.

Maybe like that, he’d go.

But he wasn’t leaving. He dared to get closer, in fact. And that shouldn’t be happening. You bit your lip. You needed to remember the one promise you had intended to keep.

Then your breath hitched, not only because his slender fingers brushed against your cheek, but because you remembered who you had promised that to. To that cheater ex-boyfriend of yours. And, cigarette in between his lips, pink and soft to the eye, Seungmin tucked a stray hair behind your ear, and you grasped the fence with force, your knuckles white.

“I can’t trust a man like that.” Your ex had said long ago, struggling to justify himself as to why you shouldn’t get too close to Seungmin. “He looks at you… differently.”

“You know how she did that? How she got to live up to a hundred?” The man in question asked in a low voice, tempting you to go forward, to break the unspoken promise of you not going close to each other.

“Smoking?” You muttered humourlessly, licking your lips, staring at his.

Seungmin snorted. “Oh, no, puppy.” Your entire body shivered. Blinking, slowly, not daring to believe what was happening before your eyes.

But it was real. And you knew it because Seungmin suddenly grasped your cheeks with one hand.

“Minding her own damn business.” He smirked, blowing the smoke on your face.

You started coughing, and hesitated as if to push him away and leave, slam the door close and celebrate New Year somewhere else instead of a party filled with friends of others.

“But I think,” he smiled slyly, bringing you back from your thoughts as he licked the small piercing in his lip. “I think you should try it.”

Your eyes widened at his words, your mind wandering away. Would the piercing be cold? How would it feel on his lips?

How would it feel against yours?

“S-smoking?” You let out in a huff, feeling heat creep up your body. He nodded.

“But…” doubt tinted his tone, his hand not leaving your chin, the grip uncomfortable at first but now relaxing against your skin.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to break that old promise.

Not when Kim Seungmin was related. And not when what you had promised meant not getting… acquainted with him.

After all, he had to make you regret it, right?

“Problem is… I only have this one.” He stated, waving the lit cigarette in his hand. “Unless… you don’t mind sharing.”

He had to make you regret that, for once, you had chosen that sad excuse of a man over him.

Your mind started to turn fuzzy, feeling Seungmin’s lean figure slowly cage you against the fence, his free hand sneakily heading to your waist, stroking down ever-so-slowly to your hip.

Biting your lip, you forced yourself to stop looking at his face, and threatened to burn marks on the necklace that creeped from between the top buttons of his black shirt.

Your cheeks heated up again.

“So, what’s it gonna be, huh?” He scoffed funnily, voice tinted with mockery. “Can a goody-two-shoes like you handle—“

But he stopped talking, because you took the cigarette from his hand and inhaled, siren eyes locked on his, who widened at the sight of you, eyebrows shot up, his features masking contentment.

He liked where this was going. He liked that you had broken the promise. He liked it when he heard that you had slapped your ex in front of everyone in the crowd. He liked how, right then and there, you grasped his face, your nails pressing crescent moons on his cheeks. Painful, but oh, so good.

And then, his breath tasted familiar. In the midst of the smoke you were passing to him, the mix of flavours crossing one mouth to another, exhaling and inhaling.

You backed off after, but he let out a soft grunt.

“Let me do that right.” Seungmin gulped messily, eyes red.

As if shotgunning hadn’t been enough, his right hand cradled your face, his left pushing himself tightly against you. His fingers traced the contour of your jaw, your breaths synchronized.

“Do it.” You panted, the effects of the certainly-not-tobacco substance reeling in your body, taking them in, making you light-headed. “Please, Seungmin, I—”

Your lips met in a fiery embrace, a collision of longing and intensity. It didn’t start with a tender exploration, but rather a fervent exchange of passion. Time seemed to stand still as both of you lost in the intoxicating rhythm of the kiss, all teeth and tongues.

“Just shut up.” He whispered against your lips. “God, just— fuck.”

Heated sighs escaped between kisses, and every touch sent shivers down your spine as Seungmin’s hands roamed freely over your body, gropping and touching to his heart’s content. His cold hands passed underneath your shirt and you whimpered.

“Ah! S-shit, Seungmin!” You shivered against him, trying to quiet your gasps.

He smirked, his other hand grabbing your cheeks and his thumb stroking your red, swollen and so fucking kissable lips.

“Wait, puppy.” He took the cigarette from your hand, took a draw and threw it to the ground, stepping on it lazily.

The smoke came out of his mouth slowly. “Now, I want you to listen closely.” He started. Your lack of response triggered a tug to your bra, and he slapped it back without hesitation, only a mean smile on his features. You whined, nuzziling your face on his neck, and he licked his lips, enjoying himself.

“Are you listening?” Seungmin snickered.

“Y-yes!” You muttered on his neck.

His cold hand trailed soothing patterns on your back, making you squirm on his grasp. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by his antics.

“Yes, what?”

Slowly you stepped back to look at him, his eyes dark with lust and red due to the weed.

You smiled inocently. “Yes, sir?”

He blushed, but slowly shook his head.

“It’s master for you, puppy.” He kissed you again, unable to resist it for longer. “Let’s get the hell out of this place.”

You accept his outstreched hand without hesitation, a contact that made you crave whatever he was thinking at that moment.

Your heels were not at all helpful to take you upstairs, but Seungmin’s kind heart was there to smile at you as his hands took place in the curve of your waist to help you get up safetly. The silk of your dress felt soft under his slender fingers, your body warm to the touch. Every step you took made your hair swish in front of him and the strong scent of your shampoo invaded him completely, wanting to sink his face in and fall asleep.

It was the first time you were able to get a propper look of Seungmin’s room in his shared apartment with your brother. You had seen the door left ajar before, but never dared to cross, keeping your promise in mind.

“I don’t mind if you snoop, you know.” He chuckled next to your ear.

A sudden burst of attitude came right through you when you smirked, turning around to face him, your hands around his neck, playing with his hair.

Fuck that promise.

“I don’t need to snoop. I can always come back for that.”

Seungmin couldn’t help but smirk, moving and pushing you against the door, locking it behind you. He pressed his hands against it, on either side of your head, and leaned down slightly, towering you even with your heels on.

You couldn’t help but gulp, and Seungmin was tempted to press his mouth against your neck just to tease you after feeling your pulse hammering against his lips.

He was not going to kiss you.

Seungmin decided that, against his first intentions, watching you fight yourself was the hottest thing he had the pleasure to view that whole night, your cheeks in a deep shade of red, thighs squeezed together.

He didn’t really need to start anything. Only if you chose to, you would kiss him. And, even if you didn’t, you’d surely come back for more anyways.

Few people could resist Seungmin, and you were certainly not part of that group.

Your breathing deepened when he leaned forward, letting his mouth linger near the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“You never hated me like you pretended, did you, darling?” He was mocking you, and he so knew it. “Keep in mind— I still can make you call me master. Your silly little promises won’t make me stay too far, puppy.”

He was trying to make you beg for it, for him, for anything, anything that Seungmin could do for you to make you feel better, as he kept making the heat that run through your body take control.

But Seungmin needed to get his revenge.

After all, he had been pinning over you for ages now. It was only fair you had to ask for it nicely, right?

“Is this a joke?”

The muttered question grazed past your lips, and it look like it surprised you just as much as it surprised him.

“I don’t joke about consent, dear.” Seungmin’s serious tone mades concentrating a much more difficult task. Not when his messy hair looked so good, and certainly not with those cute flushed cheeks of his.

For a lack of an answer —at this point it wasn’t about if it was better, because the man had almost rendered you speechless— you bit your lip, now soft doe eyes staring at him from below.

“You know what will happen.” His voice was soft and enticing, tempting you to go forward. “You just have to kiss me, hmm?” He snickered, his hum vibrating all through your body.

Seungmin smirked, pressing his body slightly closer, slotting his leg in between yours, setting his thigh just right.

Just a bit more.

“Say that you want it,” he whispered. “Master can fuck you so good once you do it, yeah? Don’t you want that, puppy?”

The sudden tug at the collar of his shirt and the force that you pulled him towards you with almost made Seungmin lose his mind, his thoughts soaked in a puddle of arousal, much like the one you were feeling that kept growing inside you.

Your lips crashed together, giving in to a craving that had been building up for what seemed likeforever. It wasn't just a kiss; it was like a dam breaking, releasing a flood of emotions that had been held back for too damn long.

The urgency was wild, like you couldn't get enough of each other. Seungmin’s mouth moved hungrily, as if trying to make up for all the times he'd missed out on this.

Your hands traveled to the rim of his shirt, but he whined, separating his lips off you. “N-no, wait.” He gasped, running out of air and not giving any fucks about it.

You had ruined him for good.

“Bed. Now.” He panted at you, your eyes as blown out as his. “You’re gonna be the death of me, puppy.”

Seungmin licked the piercing on his lip, as he took off his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed, manspreading. His breath hitched and he buckled his hips unconciously when you sat on his lap, rolling your hips teasingly.

He tutted at you. With a mean smile, he grabbed you by your waist and softly pushed you against the soft fabric of his bed covers. Standing on his knees, he unbuckled his belt, and you happily oogled at his toned body. He wasn’t shredded, but there was no need when all you wanted to do was mark him up in kisses regardless.

You didn’t realize he had taken all his clothes off, left with his boxer briefs, only noticed it after he let his body slot in between your legs, his forearms at the sides of your face so his weight wouldn’t crush you completely.

“Seungmin…”

He chuckled, your hands touring up his lean chest, reaching the nape of his neck.

“So demanding.” His characteristic teasing tone was back, but completely different at the same time. “Say, if I snuck my hand under that beautiful dress of yours,” he mentioned temptingly, enticingly grinding his hips against yours, “how wet would I find you, puppy?”

So fucking wet. So much, in fact, that you didn’t dare to say. Disgustingly so. You let out a trembling sigh, yearning for the man before you to inch even closer, to eat the space between both of you and make it dissapear.

In a swift motion, Seungmin took your dress off and discarded it, not bothering if it would be easy to find later on. In fact, he thought as his stare ate you alive, that he wouldn’t mind if you never found it again.

He rocked against your centre, just once, ripping a pained whimper out of you.

“Tell master what you want, puppy.” His jaw hardened, reeling in the bubbling emotions that ran through him. “Tell me what’s okay for me to do.”

Seungmin’s thumb grazed the skin of your breast, eliciting a deep moan out of you.

“That’s it, puppy. So good— so good for me.” He gulped, filled with lust and craving.

He took your nipple between his slender fingers and pulled softly.

You let out an unrestrained whimper. Loud. Almost obnouxiously so, and quickly brought your hand over your mouth, cheeks reddening in embarrassment and arousal. Seungmin chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your blushing cheek.

“Keep making those pretty sounds for me. Let everyone hear. Let them hear how good your master makes you feel.”

Seungmin’s hold on your hip tightened, making you aware of his hand there, his other hand continuing further down a similar path, finally reaching your wet folds, pressing just for an instant and then gliding down slowly.

Your lips parted as a moan came out. You couldn’t remember feeling so turned on by someone— ever.

He let out a pleased grunt, his hand leaving your core as his eyes locked with yours just so you’d see how he licked your arousal from his fingers, humming with a smirk.

“All of this for me?” He mocked in a deep voice, much deeper than any instance you had ever heard him.

Unable to form any coherent thoughts in your head aside from the chant that numbed your head—Seungmin, more, Seungmin, mine, Seungmin, master,— he didn’t lose anymore time, his fingers sliding inside of you in a swift motion, making you moan at the blissful sensation of finally being somewhat full, also making you realize that only his fingers wouldn’t be enough for the night.

“Hear that, puppy? Those sticky sweet sounds… that’s all you.” Seungmin kept thrusting inside, adding a second finger and bringing a warm sensation that started unravelling itself, as if it was going to crack you wide open. “All drenched for me, fuck.”

After what could’ve been a few minutes, only hearing your own moans and whines, backed my Seungmin’s pleased pants and the sound of your arousal as he scissored you open, he took his hand away from you.

“Open up.” It wasn’t a question, and it made you whine against his fingers when he shoved them in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. “So fucking delicious, my little puppy.”

So primal, so basic, so hot.

He slid down his underwear just enough so his length sprang free.

“Would love to feel those lips of yours around my cock, but we’ll leave that for the next time.”

He planted a lingering kiss on your lips and a second one on your forehead as he fetched a condom and skillfully rolled it down his length.

He stared at you, going back to his place between your thighs.

“Words, puppy.” He demanded.

You almost choked in your spit.

“F-fuck, S-seungmin, I—“ you moaned as he went crazy, claming your breasts, neck, collarbone, marking you with hard-to-cover-up hickeys. You were his, and it was now as real as it could get, his fingers and tongue outlining your body, memorizing every nook and cranny.

He panted. “Don’t stop talking.”

“S-shit. Yes. Yes, fuck, please. S-seungmin.” You bit your lip, squirming in your place. “I-inside.”

He snickered against your skin.

“Say that like you mean it.”

His hips rocked against your core, pushing his length between your legs, the tip sliding down with every sway of his body until reaching my entrance.

“M-master.” You could’ve sworn you would cry. “Please.”

With a kiss below your ear, Seungmin finally pressed into you, slowly, and it made you moan loudly, the feeling of his cock sliding inside of you in a deep thrust, filling you completely.

“We’re in for a long night, puppy.” Seungmin whined, almost moaning, and it was delicious. “F-fuck…”

He kissed you fiercily, his lips making your body burn underneath him.

“Now, keep moaning how good your master makes you feel.”

~Kats, who wanted to post this before going crazy with overdue homework and future exams! (HELP!)

Almost forgot! Tagging @dumplingsjinson bc their (outstanding, gorgeous) prompts helped me out, so quick, go check them out! hehe<3

[deedeeznoots]

You’re? Correction! I’m Yours 

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, GN!Reader 

➺ Word Count: 900+ 

➺ Genre: Fluff

➺ Content: Non-Curse!AU, Nerd!Sukuna, Established Relationship (with some pre-relationship sprinkled in), Swearing

➺ A/N: Shout out to my wonderful mutual @heian-era-housewife for this post about Heian Era Sukuna doing poetry. If she’s reading this: I hope you don’t mind the tag but your post seriously inspired a huge chunk of these headcanons 🥹

➺ Synopsis: Headcanons of all the nerdy things Sukuna does because deep down inside that’s all he is and all he wishes to be ❤️

➺ At first glance he doesn’t read as someone who would be super nerdy or all that interested in learning. 

➺ I mean, can you blame anyone? No one really expects the dude constantly looking for a fight to pull up with some textbooks during his free time.

➺ Once you get to know him though, you realize that on the inside he is in fact a giant nerd about basically everything.

➺ It starts off subtly: at first you’d ask him questions and he’d be able to easily come up with answers without even giving it a second thought.

➺It could be a question about anything, regardless of the subject or perceived difficulty, and Sukuna would be able to explain it to you. Not only that, but he’d be able to explain it to you in a way that made it sound like the simplest thing in the world. 

➺ At one point you basically just started playing trivia and just started asking him stuff normal people didn’t know the answers for and he’d answer with ease, albeit he’d get really annoyed with your constant random questions.

➺ Sometimes if he’s really excited about a subject his explanations would turn into full lectures that’d put most college professors to shame.

➺ Although it was shocking at first, it started to make sense when you realized that the main reason why he takes time to learn about stuff is because he’s constantly bored and looking for new things to entertain him.

➺ He’s good at basically everything so long as it piques his curiosity, but his one and only love will forever be literature, mostly because of how infinite the possibilities are with the medium.

➺ He’s well versed in literature of all genres and different cultures, but he is the most drawn toward Japanese works (and let’s be honest, his favorites would probably come from the Heian Period).

➺ Ever since getting with you, he’s been leaning more toward the romance genre. Just in case he needs any inspiration on how to spice up your relationship, you know? 

➺ He’s taught himself multiple languages just for fun and to see how far he could go.

➺ He LOVES poetry, he both writes and reads it a lot and it’s his favorite hobby besides eating.

➺ Other than literature, he also has a huge fascination with art.

➺ He designed his own tattoos because he wanted to play with the idea of turning his body into a canvas. It also just so happened to make him look intimidating as hell which was a plus in his book.

➺ He also has a little journal that he carries around and he sketches a lot whenever he’s bored or sees something interesting.

➺ As for styles, he’s a really big fan of Sumi-e painting because he’s allergic to color but he basically just uses and does whatever he feels like at the moment. 

➺ He’s the type of person who draws what he sees, but he would especially enjoy drawing nature. 

➺ He would go out on hikes whenever he felt the need to draw and would walk until he found something interesting. 

➺ He’s really into meditation while he draws and he uses sketching as a way to keep himself level headed during particularly annoying days.

➺ He isn’t too fond of drawing people, but you’d be the exception. 

➺ He would 1000% draw you while you sleep. It’s the perfect time since you’d be still for most of it. 

➺ Sukuna is able to write really good cursive and also does calligraphy because he got bored one time (shocker) and so decided to see if he was able to do it well and to no one’s surprise, he was eventually able to.

➺ The reason why he leans towards the humanities so much is because they’re both subjects no one can really “master”. With both art and literature, there isn’t a point where someone knows absolutely everything about either subject. Since Sukuna loves a challenge, he wants to be the first person to go “Fuck you, I DO know everything about this”.

➺ One of the little things he does every day includes writing you short little romantic poems on a post it note and leaving them in out random spots for you to find. 

➺ Sometimes they would be in your pocket or other times on the bathroom mirror, wherever it is they would make you smile. 

➺ Though, sometimes he would stick them onto such odd spots that you’d wonder just how he did it?

➺ He has TONS of pride in his writing (to be fair, he’s prideful about basically anything he does) and he always appreciates it when you mention his little notes and complement the work he put into writing them.

➺ Sometimes when the both of you are talking together he’d say some of the most poetic sentences that you’ve ever heard like it’s nothing. 

➺ When you gasp he just goes “What? Why are you staring at me like that?” as if he didn’t randomly drop lines that sounded like they came from straight out of a novel.

➺ He’s a dick when it comes to spelling and grammar, especially during petty arguments.

➺ “How many times do I have to tell you, if your going to the restroom put the damn seat down afterwards” ➺ “It’s YOU’RE*, actually” ➺ “Fine, YOU'RE** a piece of shit Ryomen!”

➺ Don’t fret though, because while Ryomen Sukuna wants to know anything and everything there is to know about the world, he knows deep down inside that the best thing the world could have ever offered him was you.

-

➺ Edit: Okay I made this story quite a while ago but I HAVE ANOTHER HEADCANON TO ADD! I think his observation skills are super on point which is how he’s able to understand things so easily

A/N: Everyone list what you think Sukuna’s favorite book(s) would be 🗣️

A/N: If you enjoyed my thoughts on Sukuna, you’d love this story I also wrote paired with some headcanons! 

[marswritesstuff]

aot boys + writing their name on you

contains: armin arlert, eren jaeger, zeke jaeger, erwin smith, levi ackerman, jean kirstein x gn!reader

nicknames: darling (erwin), baby (jean)

warnings: reader and armin are implied to be in high school/college in armin's, reader and erwin are implied to be of drinking age in erwin's, mentions of drinking and reader getting drunk, kinda suggestive, reader's breasts are mentioned but never mentioned to be male or female

armin:

When your relationship is still private to just you and your friends, he loves talking about you to the people who know. “My partner” this and “my partner” that- he tries not to be annoying about it, but he loves that people know.

When football season rolls around, all the players are giving their spare jerseys to their partners to wear.

Armin, being the manager, doesn’t have a jersey to give you, and you two are still trying to keep your relationship on the down-low until you’re more settled.

Armin pulls you into a corner on the morning of the homecoming game and pulls a sharpie out of his pocket. He grabs your hand and smiles, before writing “ARLERT” in big bold letters across the back of your hand.

He plants a kiss on your warm cheek before slipping away to his first class.

It’s subtle enough that not many people even take notice of it, but every time you see a peek of black while you’re writing, your mind floods with images of your beaming boyfriend.

(By the end of the season, you have a varsity jacket with his name embroidered onto it. You wear it to every game.)

eren:

Eren isn’t dumb- you’re hot as fuck, and he knows other people want you. He trust you with his entire heart, but still, he doesn’t like the idea of people who don’t know about you two looking at you like that.

So, like a completely reasonable person, after hugging you good morning, he drops to his knees in front of you and slips a hand under your shirt.

While you don’t know what he’s doing at first, he looks up to you for permission when he pulls out the sharpie. When you give him a nod, he writes “JAEGER” in small blocky lettering just below your belly button, then, with a hand on your hip, turns you around to do the same on the small of your back.

You appear the same when he pulls away from you to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, but all day, whenever you lean down to grab anything or stretch your arms above your head, anyone watching can see your boyfriend’s name scrawled on you.

zeke:

Zeke isn’t jealous. He doesn’t care if other people want you, and he doesn’t need to show you off, because you’re his and his only, and you both know that. He’s yours as well.

But… good lord, if seeing his name on you doesn’t turn him on.

One night Zeke brings up the idea. At first, he’s joking, but he feels a shudder run through you from where his arm is wrapped around you, and suddenly the idea is invading his thoughts regularly.

So one night Zeke presents you with a marker and tells you his idea. After you give him permission and pull off your shirt when he asks, he takes his time kissing all over you and worshipping your chest and torso.

Eventually, you run your fingers through his hair and guide him back to the topic at hand, and he watches goosebumps rise on your stomach as he writes “ZEKE JAEGER” in his curvy letters below your breasts.

The next day, whenever Zeke’s arm is around you, his fingers run over the faked ink through your clothes, and you shudder in his arms.

It may have started as a joke, but that sharpie never leaves Zeke’s bedroom again.

erwin:

One night, before you go out drinking with all your friends, Erwin gently takes your arm at the door and grabs a sharpie off the table.

“Darling, we both know you’re a… friendly drunk. I’d simply like to have some assurance that everyone knows you are taken.”

You roll up your sleeve and allow your boyfriend to scrawl “if lost return to ERWIN SMITH” in his perfect cursive across your arm. He places a gentle kiss over the ink after he recaps the marker, and then another on your lips before he leads you out to the car.

Hange teases you about the words when you get to the bar (“wow, can’t take you anywhere, huh?”), but your heart warms when you’re stumbling back to your car with your boyfriend and he finally tugs your sleeve down after a long night.

levi:

Levi isn’t quite so civil about it. He’s not incredible at expressing his feelings, but he really loves you and does his best to make sure you know it.

The first time he sees someone blatantly flirting with you after you start dating, he cuts into the conversation and drags you away as soon as he can.

Later, in private, he pushes past his own mental barriers and tells you, “I don’t like seeing other people look at you like that. Only I’m supposed to look at you like that.”

Neither of you come up with something easily to let people know you’re taken, aside from something like cheesy t-shirts (which Levi vetoes immediately).

A few days later, Levi approaches you with a sharpie and pushes your chin up. You respond easily to his hands, and sit still as he writes “LEVI” in his sloppy lettering across your collarbone.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, running his fingers across it when he finishes.

“Baby, I love the idea, but…” your neck cranes to see the letters. “You know I can barely read that, right?”

He doesn’t quite blush, but you can tell he’s nearly there. You take his hand in yours, smiling.

“Hey. It’s perfect. It’s you, and that’s what really matters, right?”

jean:

When you, Jean, Connie, and Sasha are hanging out, Connie dares Jean to write his name on you.

It starts as a joke, funny for everyone: Jean writes “KIRSTEIN” in thick letters on your cheek, and you both giggle, while Connie and Sasha crack up and take photos.

But later that night, after Sasha and Connie leave, Jean pulls you into his lap and kisses over his name on your cheek.

“Hey baby? Do you think I could make you a Kirstein for real some day?”

You push his hair back and smile. “A bit fast for that, don’t you think, Mr. Kirstein?”

He grins back and kisses you deeply, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and thumb over the sharpie.

“Someday,” you mumble into the kiss, and he lifts you up to take you to his bedroom.

[minhosimthings]

Cherry Chapstick

Synopsis: Chapstick being the most romantic part of your wedding ceremony was something you had never planned. Even so when the session that came afterwards was the best you had ever had

Pairings: Jake × fem!reader, non idol au

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fluff at the beginning, smut with plot, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f.recieving), overstimulation, dacryphillia, rough sex, unprotected sex (not for you baby), Jake calls reader many nicknames, there's a wedding scene and a very sappy vows scene because I am a simp

A/N: to simply put it I wanted to write a Jake wedding scene so I wrote it and then I proceeded to add some more plot to it AND THEN I wrote some nice wedding sex at the end because why not? Also please tell me how yall feel about this I NEED TO KNOW.

How could we ever know that the stars love us? How could we ever tell that the constellations form pretty panoramas just for us? How could we ever tell that our souls are just parts of those stars that have been broken up into two and that we have to find the other half just to keep going?

The answers to questions which have been unanswered for centuries can never be revealed to the world, lest everyone knows what was needed for you to find those answers. Might it be a little boring of me to say the only answer to all those questions is love? But of course love is powerful.

Love is the word you'd used to describe the time your mother used to braid your hair. Love would be the syllable coming out of your mouth when you took a scent of the new book Amazon so amazingly delivered you. Love would be the fluffy haired boy sitting next to you, leaning against a tree and trying to understand what's written in his physics book, while biting his lips voraciously.

"Jake for God's sake-" you rolled your eyes, fumbling with the straps of your bag, "-stop biting those pretty lips of yours."

Jake tilted his head to look at you and grinned. "You know I can't do that darling." He cocked a smile, edging ever closer to you, "I bite my lips when I'm nervous and if a pretty girl is in front of me all the time, how could I never not be nervous?" You tried to gave him a stern look as you pulled out a pink coloured tube from the interior of your bag. "You and your flirting skills aren't gonna get you anywhere Sim Jaeyun." You scoffed, uncapping the lip balm. Bringing a hand up to his cheek, you held his face in position as you carefully applied the lip balm onto Jake's soft albeit broken lips. He popped his lips together after you let go of his face and took the lip balm from your hands. "baby I already have my lip balm on." You sniggered, trying to escape from his hands. "Nuh uh how will I taste the lip balm properly then?" Jake argued, sticking his tongue out in concentration and carefully applying the lip balm onto your lips.

He brought his lips to yours as soon as he was finished and pressed then tightly, trying to taste the lingering bitterness of the balm.

The kiss didn't last as long as you would have liked it too, as Jake pulled back and closed his eyes, a picture of him in deep thought. "Ah ha!" He snapped his eyes open along with a snap of his fingers, "It's blueberry isn't it?"

You hung your head and sighed dramatically. "Yeah it is." You grumbled to which Jake positively exploded. "I knew it would be blueberry!" He giggled and pulled out a tiny green notebook, frantically writing something in it.

"You're still keeping track of all the lip balms?" You peeked inside his notebook, which had beautiful cursive writing sprawled across the pages.

"How could I not?" Jake scoffed, looking up at you with a cheeky grin, "I have to keep track of my girlfriend's love for me don't I?" "That book is almost full Jayeun." You rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in his sweet cologne, "Plus the only reason you write in that notebook is to note all the times you've tasted the lip balm from my lips." "It tastes better that way!" Jake defended himself, earning himself a giggle from you.

"How many flavours of lip balm do you think exist on the world?" You asked him, head still rested on his shoulder and hands warmed by his. Jake laughed softly and wrapped his arms around you. "No matter how many there are, I promise to buy every single one of them and apply them on those pretty lips of yours so I can taste them."

Yet another giggle escaped your lips at your boyfriend's flirtatious nature. The air around you seemed to cool down as the evening slowly set in. Time never seemed to pass when you were with Jake, carefully applying lip balm to his cracked lips and him kissing it off of yours, like a sun sweet lullaby.

"I am so fucking proud of you." Jake hugged you tightly in his arms, providing you with warmth, and pressed soft kisses to your head. Your graduation cap hung clumsily on your head as everyone around you hugged and cheered loudly.

"Valedictorian huh?" Jake grinned at you, not letting go of your waist, "My smart little baby." "Not little anymore Jaeyun." You looked at him, "We're finally 21!" Jake chuckled and pulled you in for another hug, stroking your hair gently. "Oh I have a surprise for you." Jake pulled you aside from the screaming frat boys ripping off their shirts. "You mean a surprise other than the ten million surprises you've gotten for me since yesterday?" You giggled while Jake glared at you playfully.

"This is going to be the best surprise and oh best part?" He poked his cheek with his tongue, "It's up at our tree."

"Jake this is....." You gasped, "So beautiful." The tree had never looked prettier than it had now. A mighty willow tree, it had always stood strong, letting you and Jake lean against it, cooling down from the shade of the leaves. You hadn't ever noticed it's true beauty until now. Fairy lights and white satin ribbons hung from the tree like dangling angel wings.

"You like it?" Jake looked at you with uncertainty clouding his expression. "Are you kidding?" You laughed, "I fucking love this. And I love you." You booped his nose, causing a giggle to come out of his mouth. "Oh but that's not the only thing!" Jake clapped his hands excitedly, "I got you a new chapstick too!"

He reached into his bag slowly and bought out a purple coloured tube, handing it to you. You took it from his soft hands and examined it. Lavender probably, you thought, before your eyes went to something else on the chapstick.

A ring.

A beautiful emerald ring.

"Earth to Y/N." Jake waved his hands in front of your face, snapping you out from your staring contest with the chapstick. "Jake I-" "Y/N I don't think I can tell you in words how much I truly love you." Jake kneeled down in front of you, as tears enveloped your eye lids, "But if I had to choose two words to tell you, it would be-" he took the ring from your hands,

"Marry me?"

The rest of that evening passed in tears, cheap beer, and showing off your ring finger, beautifully decorated with the piece of emerald to your friends and family, earning big, warm embraces from there. But nothing was better that day than Jake's bright smile engulfing his face, as he kissed you over and over again. Every second seemed to be precious to him, as he wasted not even a grain of sand in peppering kisses to your face.

You had always heard from your mother that the days leading upto the wedding must be cherished and remembered forever. But for some reason unknown to you as well as the world, you didn't even have a single morsel of memory from those days. It was a wedding dress fitting one and the cake the other day and suddenly it was the day of the wedding.

The venue was beautiful, blue satin decorating the seams just like you had wanted, with everyone dressed in baby blue, well almost everyone as your older brother, Heeseung admired your beautiful white dress.

"You look beautiful Y/N stop worrying." "Im not worrying Heeseung." You scoffed, as you clutched your flowers tightly, "Alright I'm ready."

Blur was a proper word to describe how you felt while you walked down the aisle, arm looped around Heeseung's. You did not notice the tear stains of all your relatives and friends, nor did you notice your favourite melody playing in the background.

All that was on your mind was Jake. Standing beneath a beautiful arrangement of lilies, dressed handsomely in a white suit, with a big goofy grin on his face, and a few crystals in his eyes, he looked like heaven's incarnate. Well atleast your, heaven's incarnate.

"Baby~" he cooed as you stepped in front of him, "You look like an angel." He caressed your cheek as a single teardrop fell out of its prison.

"The vows." Sunghoon whispered from behind Jake's back as he cleared his throat loudly and looked down at a piece of paper, his hands trembling. You placed your own hand on top of his, providing him a sense of calm as his hands stopped shivering and he took a deep breath.

"You know I never really understand why people wrote vows and everything when they get married. I mean-" he chuckled, "What more words can describe the person you're about to be with for the rest of eternity? But when I was writing this, going through my cringy diaries for inspiration, and getting drunk on the whiskey Sunghoon so graciously gifted me-" the crowd laughed, as you giggled at Jake unseriousness, "I realised that these words are not to you, and not to the entire world to hear, but to me." He paused and took a breath, "They are to tell me what I truly fell for. Because if I'm going to be honest, I fell for a lot of things." You felt tears form in your ears, which you struggled to hold back, "Pinpointing the thing that made me tell you that my heart years for you is a difficult thing. It could be sitting with you under a tree, relishing the autumn sunlight. It could be gazing at all the stars in the sky with you, knowing you're the prettiest one out of all of them." You let out a choked sob at that, and wiped a tear from your ear. You saw Jake's eyes soften more as he caressed your cheek gently. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you're a panorama of all the things I didn't know I had been searching for my entire life Y/N. I love you. God I love you so much. I'll write my love for you in the waves, if it means you'll be satisfied. I'll etch it onto my very heart if that means you'll fall for me again." The chirping of the birds and the honeycomb scent never seemed sweeter that they were now, as they played to the melody of Jake's voice, " You, my dearest, are the sunlight falling through the trees, the joy breaking through the sadness, you are my descent to madness, my chaos and my peace, my black and white. You are my world and if you weren't in life, I would still be alive, just not living."

Your world has never seemed so pretty before, so filled with flowers and pink satin and whatnot, as you looked on at Jake's eyes, always filled with Saturn's rings, at his hair, which reminded you on Sunday dates and lazy Monday mornings, at his lips, yet again cracked and dry.

"Oh and I almost forgot." Jake perked up, reaching into his breast pocket and taking out a red coloured tube. You recognised it. Cherry Chapstick.

"You've always taken care of me, my Y/N, and more so of my lips. I think they're grateful for you to have entered and saved their lives, otherwise my lips would have been blood by now."

"We've always had this pretty tradition, where I'd kiss the chapstick right off of your lips, pretending I can taste it better like that. Which is not entirely a lie, because things always taste better when they're filled with love don't they? So my dearest-" He pressed the chapstick into your hands.

"Would you like to kiss it off of my lips today?"

Your heart had already erupted into a million shards of pink and red and it seemed that Jake reached into your soul now, tearing it apart and placing himself inside it, wrapping it around him like a blanket. You looked down at the chapstick, slowly uncapping it. Cherry, of course, the first flavour of chapstick you had ever applied on him.

You caressed Jake's cheek gently and applied the lip balm onto his lips, as he looked down at you, holding your universe in his brown orbs. You leaned forward to him, getting drunk on his cologne.

Kisses were your favourite part of the day, brushing your lips against his, his arms holding your waist ever so gently as yours wrapped around his neck. And now, as you kissed him in a slow dance of sensuality, with every ounce of love in you, fingers searching for him and only him, as everyone cheered in the background, you knew that this was something your memory would remember even in death. Till death do us part, right?

"Angel?" Jake whispered, as you climbed onto the bed, your veil and dress now deposited on the ground. "Yes Jake?" You answered as he got on top of you, cologne still poisoning your nostrils. "I love you so much." He said as he bent down to you neck, kissing it with the same lips that you had enjoyed today. "I love you too Jak- ah fuck." You moaned, as Jake left deeper kisses and marks onto your collarbone.

"I'll prove it." Jake whispered again, fingers digging into your waist, "Prove my love." "Jake ngh-" you moaned again, as his bulge pressed against your panties. You had thought that buying new lingerie in Jake's favourite colour for you to wear on the night of your wedding would be a good idea and it was, as Jake carried you upstairs to the bedroom, eyes faltering as you revealed what was under the layer of tulle.

"Are you ready Mrs Sim?" Jake looks at you with darkened eyes. You whimper in response to him, trapped under his body, your cunt itching for something.

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

Jake's taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

"Jake- don't tease." You whine, feeling his hair brush against the skin of your leg. He chuckles and rests your legs on his shoulders.

Jake doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth. 

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

Your skin was so soft under his touch, so warm. You smelled so good. He could get lost in the scent of your skin, melt underneath it. He wanted to feel you all, touch you all and as you ground your hips back and forth and your nipples brushed his chest, your husband felt like he had bought a piece of heaven all for himself. 

Your whines and tightened grip on his curls must have alerted him as he loosened his grip on your pussy and looked up at you.

"Tell me what you want darling." He rose up to your level, admiring your moonlit face, "Your fingers- please." You said, feeling his warm breath on your skin, the veins on his hand turning you on.

Your whole body is on edge, and it almost hurts. Every fiber of your body aches for his touch until your breath gets stuck and breaks through your throat in a moan. His long fingers start to move in and out of you with a rapid speed. He massages your walls, stretching and filling you while your clit burns and makes your hips jerk. You grind against his palm, forcing him deeper and deeper.

Jake can almost feel the hot coil in your lower belly. It stretches to the point your lips part in a throaty moan, breathing in and out his name repeatedly. He closes his eyes at your prayer, biting the soft spot between your shoulder and neck as you cum on his fingers. You suck him in, trembling in his strong arms until you are limp and sated.

"Don't worry baby." Jake gasped, a thin line of sweat enveloping him, "I'll finish you good."

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Jake groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you shake in pleasure. Your husband looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with darkness and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

"Just like that baby." Jake whispered to your whimpers, "Moan for me come on now." "Jake -ah - want-to cum." You moaned, tears forming from the overstimulation.

You knew you were close when you started to feel something up in your lower stomach, the urge to cum increases with every thrust. You knew Jake was close too when you felt him twitch inside you, a warm liquid beginning to leak.

“I know, baby. Cum with me. C’mon, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster. You could feel the amazing sensation of warmth touch your clit gently as Jake's cum shot into you.

You almost screamed when you reached your orgasm, Jake following shortly after with a deep groan. Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Jake rubbed your back and slowly pulled himself out of you, both of you moaning in the process. You sighed as he collapsed on the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. The moonlight was in her full glimmer now, as it illuminated both of your faces.

"That-" you breathed out, "was quite possibly the best you've ever fucked me." Jake chuckled lowly and kissed the top of your head gently.

"Anything for you, my dearest." He whispered, as you felt sleep coming into your corneas.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." You giggled.

"I love you too angel."

[gnvrkhuroo]

sweet letters

pairing. leon kennedy x f. reader

warning. smut. cnc. i won't list every single kink; i think it would be better if you read the story yourself and discover them along the way! enjoy reading ;)

word count. 3.9k

notes. this piece is fictional and solely intended for the reader's satisfaction and imagination. the author does NOT condone or endorse any real-life activities that may be depicted. reader discretion is advised.

a/n. you thought this would be a soft and sweet comfort smut? haha, no.

finishing the note with a small heart, i put on lipstick again. gently pressing my lips to the empty space below the letter, i leave a kiss mark—

"no, no, no, that's too much," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head.

you hurled your pen across the desk, its scratches tearing through the words. with a frustrated grunt, you ripped a page from your notebook, crumpled it, and flung it to the far corner of your room. leaning heavily on your desk, you buried your face in your hands. it had been weeks since you started working on your college project, yet aside from the title—sweet letters—you hadn't made any progress.

you stared at the cursive title, fingers gently hovering over it, while your other hand massaged your forehead to ease your growing headache. still, nothing came to mind.

after a moment of contemplation, you decided a change of scenery might help. you gathered your notebook, pen, phone, and laptop, stuffing them into your white shoulder tote.

securing the locked door of your dorm behind you, you made your way to the elevator. as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, your eyes immediately fixated on a bouquet of lavender resting on the rail inside, wrapped in newspaper and tied with a plain, shiny purple ribbon.

you stepped inside, positioning yourself near the buttons, and pressed the ground floor button. contemplating for a moment, you stole glances at the bouquet reflected in the elevator mirror.

curiosity piqued, you reasoned that checking it out a little closer wouldn't hurt, especially since you were alone. you just wanted to know who it was addressed to and why it had been left there.

approaching cautiously, you gently picked up the bouquet, inspecting it for any clues—perhaps a name or a hidden note—but found nothing.

you gasped as your phone began to ring, softly lowering the bouquet back into place. a smile spread across your lips.

"leon, baby!" you greeted with excitement.

a faint chuckle echoed through the line, followed by his soothing voice. "hello, love," he greeted in return. you could hear the smile in his voice. "how have you been, pretty girl? did you like the lavenders?"

you gazed at the bouquet, feeling your shoulders relax. "are these from you?" you asked, lifting the lavenders again and hugging them close to your chest.

you heard your boyfriend hum in response. "figured you needed something to boost your mood, so i got them for you. from my garden, by the way—finally able to grow them myself," he boasted.

"thank you," you said, inhaling the lavender's scent before snapping a photo of yourself with it and sending it to leon.

he chuckled. "so beautiful. i miss you."

"i miss you more," you replied. then a realization struck you.

the elevator dinged again, and its doors began to open. your eyes widened in alarm as you repeatedly pressed the close button. finally, they landed on him outside the building, staring straight at you.

adrenaline surged, and you nearly punched the button to your dorm floor as leon sprinted towards the elevator. thankfully, it closed just as he reached it. collapsing against the wall, you sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror for a bit.

as the elevator ascended, you knew you only had a few seconds to reach your dorm and lock the door before he caught up. when it finally reached your floor, you bolted through the hallway.

another ding echoed behind you, signaling his arrival on the other elevator.

you heard his slow footsteps as he exited the elevator, and your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when his pace suddenly quickened, transitioning from walking to running straight toward you. your heart thumped loudly, and your ears began to ring with anxiety.

fumbling through your bag, you searched for your keys, finally slowing down as you reached your door. struggling to unlock it, you managed after a while and immediately turned the knob to enter. you threw everything you were carrying onto the floor and attempted to shut the door.

to your dismay, he was already behind you. before you could slam the door shut, his foot blocked it, preventing you from closing it completely. a hand slipped through the gap, pushing against the door with force. you were too small and light to push it shut, so you stepped back and darted towards your bedroom door instead.

but he was too fast. leon managed to catch the bedroom door and flung it open. you backed away slowly, retreating as he stood in the doorway, blocking your escape route with his imposing frame as he stared down at you.

leon lifted you over his shoulders and carried you to the bed. with a swift motion, he threw you onto the mattress and climbed on top, effortlessly flipping you onto your stomach. his weight pinned you down, preventing any escape. with a swift motion, he used the shiny purple ribbon from the now scattered lavender bouquet on the ground to tie your wrists together behind your back.

you kicked and screamed, legs thrashing to push him off, but he only pressed down harder. his bulge pressed against the curve of your ass and chest flattened against your back as he slid his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure on the sides to make you feel lightheaded, without cutting off your airflow directly at the larynx.

"look what you did," he shouted, nuzzling his nose against your shoulder while his hand tilted your head to look at the mess on the floor. "i grew them for you. it took months for them to bloom so beautifully, love," he chuckled darkly, sending shivers down your spine.

leon tapped the pad of his index finger under your chin before sighing and moving back. he knelt behind you, his hands tracing down your spine and over your ass. he gave them a rough squeeze, causing you to hiss, then suddenly delivered a sharp slap that made you jolt forward in pain.

"keep pissing me off, love," he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt before lifting it up. you heard him take a sharp intake of breath as your bare back was exposed to him. your shirt got caught on your tied wrists, so he ripped the clothing off and threw it onto the ground, your skirt followed suit. "i do enjoy hurting you, especially when i hear you cry."

"so fucking beautiful," he breathed, his hand brushing your hair aside to get a better look.

he then hooked his fingers onto the strap of your underwear, playing with the lace for a moment before letting go. the band snapped back against your skin, causing you to bite your lip to stifle a cry of pain.

"are you crying already, love?" he teased in a mocking tone, grabbing your arm and yanking you up to face him. "baby, i haven't even done anything to you yet."

his face softened when he saw you sobbing silently, tears streaming down your adorably flushed cheeks. his heart ached for a moment seeing you like this, but the way you bit onto your soft, plump lower lip made him believe you wanted more.

"do you feel sorry, love?"

it took you a second to process his words over the loud beating of your heart, and you nodded in response.

"you have a mouth. use your words, baby," he said warningly, giving you a gentle slap on your hip.

"yes," you managed to sob out, eyes shutting to avoid his stare.

"yes, what?" he demanded, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look directly at him.

"yes, leon, i'm sorry—" you replied almost instantly as he delivered a gentle slap across your face, cutting your words off. his other hand still gripped your jaw, making the impact worse since you had to keep steady.

"sir," he corrected sternly, "you'll address me as sir."

you bit your lip, chest heaving from sobbing as you tried to quiet down. "yes, sir. i'm sorry."

he hummed in satisfaction, his posture straightening as he continued, "why are you sorry, pretty girl? what did you do wrong?"

"i ruined the lavender bouquet you grew and arranged just for me. i shouldn't have done that. i'm sorry," you added quickly, panicking, "sir." you stared at him with widened eyes, hoping he'd let you off the hook.

he released your jaw, pushing you back onto the bed. you whimpered silently as you fell, struggling to get comfortable with your hands bound behind your back. the position was awkward, but you shifted as best you could to ease the discomfort.

"spread your legs," he commanded.

you hesitated for a moment, propping yourself up on your elbows. slowly, you complied, spreading your legs apart. the embarrassment was overwhelming, so you avoided his gaze once again.

leon's brows furrowed as he leaned in, his hands tracing your legs until they settled below your knees. he pulled you towards him, causing you to slump down on the bed, your legs pushed up toward your shoulders.

he began rubbing your clothed core, feeling your wetness coat his fingers through the fabric. for a brief moment, you stopped breathing, overwhelmed by embarrassment at your vulnerable state, unable to cover your face or hide from him.

your breath hitched as he pushed your underwear to the side and spat on your clit. "pretty," he commented, his thumb beginning to circle on the bundle of nerves, eliciting silent gasps from your lips. "i'm going to breed this fucking pussy, yeah? fill you up with my seed until your little tummy's swollen with my seed."

"leon—"

he delivered a sharp slap to your needy clit, making you wince and instinctively shut your legs in pain. he forcefully opened them apart, his knees painfully pinning yours in place.

"what did i say?" he demanded sharply as he slipped a finger in without warning.

you couldn't respond, arching your back from the sudden intrusion. your eyes shut tight as your mouth hung open slightly. his roughness intensified as he moved his hand behind your head, grabbing a chunk of your hair and yanking your head back to look at him. you yelped, tears clouding your eyes as you stared up at him through your dampened lashes.

"to address you as sir," you choked out, your body trembling as he pumped his finger in slowly and agonizingly.

he hummed in response, slowly releasing your hair and slipping in another finger, making it two. leon maintained the same torturous pace, causing you to sigh in disappointment.

he chuckled, leaning in close to your ear, his unusual smirk drawing your eyes to his face. "such a needy little slut," he cooed. immediately, you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "did you tightened up? fucking whore," he scoffed, his fingers beginning to move in a scissoring motion, forcing your walls to adjust. "did that turn you on?"

you nodded shamefully in response, which annoyed leon slightly since you had forgotten again. "speak up, dumb bitch," he demanded sharply.

out of nowhere, he increased the pace of his fingers, his palm slapping against your clit with just enough friction to send waves of shock through your body. his fingers curled to hit that spot that made you arch your back and see stars. your head fell back, brows furrowing as you started to feel lightheaded. leon planted soft, wet kisses on your exposed neck. his free hand finding its place on your breast, gently groping it while his thumb and forefinger occasionally pinched your nipple.

"s-sir," you stuttered, trying to call out. "'s too much."

his hand that had been on your breast swiftly moved to your clit, rubbing it while his other hand continued its torture inside your needy cunt. you arched your back, unable to move away, his knees digging into your legs adding to the pain and pleasure you were feeling.

leon roughly pressed your lower abdomen flat onto the bed, his fingers relentless in their mission to force an orgasm from you. you shrieked out, unable to do anything but accept the overwhelming stimulation. the more you struggled against the ribbon binding your hands behind your back, the tighter it became around your sore wrists.

feeling the knot in your lower abdomen about to snap, you closed your eyes tightly, anticipating that satisfying release—

but it never came. leon had pulled his hands away and stepped off the bed, a huge grin playing across his lips as he stared down at you—needy, whimpering from the loss, and disappointed.

“not yet, love,” he teased, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them as if savoring the moment.

your breath hitched, tears spilling from your eyes as you pleaded, “please.”

leon shushed you softly, leaning back towards you. his hands caressed your cheeks, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. “i need more from you,” he whispered before meeting your lips with a soft peck that quickly deepened into a passionate kiss. you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of his neediness instead of your growing frustration. “give me a few more, baby, and i promise it’ll be worth it.”

you pulled back, gasping softly, your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. “c-can’t, sir,” you murmured.

“yes, you can,” he sighed. “now, please turn around love and get on your knees. i’ll untie the ribbon, okay?” with a firm but gentle touch, leon turned you over, his hands on your hips guiding you carefully to prevent you from face-planting onto the bed. “that’s my good fucking girl,”

leon crawls closer behind you, caging you with his body as he plants loving kisses on your shoulder. he unties the ribbon around your wrist, caressing and rubbing the bruised skin where the tight ribbon had left marks. tenderly, he allows the blood to flow freely for a moment, easing your discomfort with his touch.

he then gently separated your wrists and guided them onto the bed to support yourself on all fours. leon shifted to the edge of the bed as you glanced back in curiosity. in his hand, a stack of envelopes, tied together with another shiny purple ribbon, awaited your attention. handing them to you, he gestured for you to open them.

“open the letters one by one, baby,” he began, “and read them aloud, please. i wrote these during my missions away from you. i want to hear your voice.” leaning closer, he nestled his nose against the tender skin between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent.

"o-okay,"

“okay?” his voice sharpened with a warning.

“yes, sir,” you reply almost immediately.

you removed the ribbon from the stack and selected the top envelope, adorned with delicate cursive: "for you, my love." setting the remaining envelopes beside you and leon on the bed, your hands trembled as you tore open the envelope and gently extracted the paper to read:

november 2004

i've been infected by the las plagas parasite; signs of the transformation are showing. veins are creeping across my body, love. i fucking miss you so much. 

leon’s hand settled on your hip, tracing soothing circles on your skin while you read aloud. his lips moved to your neck, sucking, nipping, and leaving his mark.

i miss the feel of your soft, warm skin against mine. your warmth gives me an inexplicable feeling of relaxation when i'm with you. how i wish i was on the couch with you tonight, fucking you until your legs give out.

his hand slid down to the curve of your ass, then began tracing along your slit. he lubricated his fingers before pushing them in. your mouth hung open in a silent moan, your back arching as you lose balance, shifting from supporting yourself with one hand holding the letter to resting on your elbows.

“keep reading,” leon commanded sternly from behind you.

“y-yes, sir,”

the thought alone makes me long to return home and see you, your pretty face contorted in pleasure as i look down at you. i want to feel you tightening around my cock so badly, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

you bit your lip, pausing to bury your face in the sheets as he continued to drill your dripping cunt with his thick fingers, his other hand rested on your hips firmly to keep you steady. leon’s thumb poked and prodded on your other hole, pressing deeper to gauge your reaction.

you gasped and leaned away from his touch, prompting leon to pull you back towards him abruptly.

i fucking imagine biting down on your clit, hear you scream my name until you're squirting all over my face. i want to devour you completely. for now, all i can do is jerk my dick off to your picture and imagine you're doing it for me. i'm going insane.

fucking need you.

sincerely, leon

you let out a sharp cry, eyes squeezing shut as you moan that you’re so close to finishing, toes curling as the tension in your stomach tightens. you cry out in ecstasy until—

leon pulls away once more. you whimper as your body collapses sideways on the bed, already exhausted.

"alright, next one, baby," leon took the paper from your hand and set it aside before reaching for another envelope. as he did, you took a deep breath, brazing yourself.

leon grew increasingly forceful with each letter in the stack, fucking his fingers harder into you with every word. adding one finger at a time until all four were deep inside your abused cunt. with each stroke, leon teased you, denying you the sweet release you craved. by the time you reached the second-to-last letter, you had lost track of how many times he had edged you, leaving you struggling to form coherent words. your speech had devolved into gibberish, much to leon’s thorough amusement.

"leon, please, no more," you sobbed, pleading desperately.

"be patient, baby," he said, the grin on his face replaced by a gentle smile.

your eyes trailed down, following the movements of his hands as he began undoing his pants. they fell to the floor, followed by his boxers. you gazed at his length; it was long and thick, the tip red and aching in need, pre-cum leaking from it. he stroked himself a few times before climbing back onto the bed and kneeling in front of your face, his knees positioned on either side of your head.

holding his length in one hand, he tapped the tip against your lips. "suck," he commanded.

you stared up at him through your lashes, licking your lips to moisten them before giving the slit of his tip an experimental lick. his brows furrowed as he held back a groan, his hand finding its place on the top of your head, guiding you.

you gave his shaft one long lick before taking the tip into your mouth. swirling your tongue around, you began to bob your head, slowly taking him in inch by inch until his entire length was inside your mouth. he held you in place for a moment, letting his whole cock rest in your throat. only when you started to gag did he pull your head back.

leon backed away slightly, his hands now resting under your knees again. he pushed them up until they were almost on your shoulders. guiding his cock with one hand, he rubbed the tip against your folds to lubricate himself before pushing in slightly.

you gasped as you felt his tip spread you wide open. you could barely handle how girthy he was, let alone the thought of taking his full length.

leon leaned in further, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close until his lips found the back of your ear, where he nipped at the skin, leaving bruises. "big stretch, love," he murmured as your brows knitted together. without warning, he slammed his entire length inside you.

you bit your lip to suppress any sound, tears threatening to spill as you stared up at him with hazy vision. he settled into a slow, gentle pace, allowing you to accommodate his size. leon's hands cupped your cheeks, pampering you with soft, ticklish kisses all over your face, making you giggle amidst the pain.

"you alright, baby?" he asked, pausing from kissing you to gaze into your eyes with concern.

"y-yeah."

leon gradually increased his pace until he found the rhythm that made you moan louder. he settled into long, deep thrusts, maintaining a steady pace that allowed you to feel his length brushing against every sensitive spot, sending shivers of delight through you.

your boyfriend maneuvered your position, pulling you closer to him. he placed your legs together on his left shoulder and began pounding harder. you hadn't realized how flexible you were until now, as leon explored different positions to deepen his penetration and feel more of you. he just couldn't get enough; your arousal seemed to draw him in further, your walls tightening around his cock with each movement. it was as if you were urging him to cum inside you.

"sir," you moaned out.

he grunted, feeling you tighten even more because you were already so sensitive and nearly at your peak again. edging you really heightened your nerves; even a simple caress on your skin made you feel hot and bothered. but leon wasn't complaining. he loves how responsive your body is, knowing that only he could bring you to this state.

your moans echoed off the walls and filled the room, mingling with leon's deep groans that reverberated in your ears. your throat, legs, and hips all began to feel sore as your body became drenched in sweat and your own juices. his grip on your legs started to hurt with each deep thrust of his hips, and all you could do was whimper.

"are you about to cum, pretty girl?" he smirked, but his focus faltered as you come undone. he shut his eyes as he felt your walls squeeze around him, forcing him to pause his movements. his shaft was now coated in your cum, some dripping from your cunt down towards your ass.

"l-leon!" you cried out, almost screaming, as leon continued pounding into you relentlessly, fucking you through your climax. he leaned in to kiss your lips, your eyes rolling to the back in your head, unable to focus as you tried to catch up to his kisses.

"i haven't cum yet," he said, pulling you onto his lap without slipping his cock out even an inch. "so fucking beautiful," your lover wrapped his arms around your waist and began bouncing you up and down on his cock. your hands flew to grip onto his shoulders, your fingernails digging into his skin, likely leaving deep crescent marks later.

"am sensitive," you whispered almost too quietly, your legs already giving out, your body limp. leon manhandled your body fully, and you were unable to control anything anymore. you laid your head on his shoulder, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past your lips every time your ass met his balls.

he chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose into the valley between your breasts, inhaling your sweet scent. "i know, slut. already so fucked dumb," he whispered beside your ear. "have i finally filled that useless brain of yours with nothing but my cock?" he scoffed. "disgusting, greedy slut. such a good fucking girl for me." his mouth latched onto your nipple, abusing the overly sensitive bud with his teeth. his fingers then found your clit, rubbing circles to intensify the sensation, coaxing one final orgasm from you.

you yelped, attempting to escape but his arm around your waist tightened, restraining you furthur. "wait, leon, am going to break. s-sir, can't cum anymore—"

"yes, you can, love. you know i won’t stop when i'm this close. i'm going to come inside you. is that okay, baby? i mean, you do love me, don't you?" he gazes up at you, his pleading eyes and a genuine smile suggesting that it might be okay to let him do it inside you. with one final, deep thrust, leon buries himself completely, ensuring not a single drop was wasted. "imagine mini versions of us running around. you'd want that too, right? of course you fucking do."

closing author's note. this took longer than expected, and although it might seem rushed, i'm pleased with how it turned out. i made some last-minute additions to align with the title, but overall, i hope everyone finds it satisfactory. more oneshots will be released soon, and i plan to publish them during this break as i'll be busier once university starts again. ♡

[pasukiyo]

Hey, ignore if u arent still doing requests but I've had this storyline in my head for ages and I think ur a perfect writer for tom. Basically, the reader is a muggleborn but she attends Hogwarts and it's like half term where they are all home for a break. Shes either avery or lestranges adopted sibling and it's kinda been kept a secret from tom because.. well yknow shes a muggleborn lol(he knows about her now because her adoptive brother had to explain before bringing Tom over) anyways so hes at every or lestranges house for some reason (you make it up) and shes in her room, her adoptive brother needs something so he asks tom to get it from her desk in her room and they preferably have 🌶 time. Sorry if it sounds stupid but I've been thinking about this for ages!!😭

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader 8,104 words warnings: smut. sort of angst. also lots of prejudice against muggle-borns. read part two here. notes: reader is hufflepuff and muggle-born in this one. summary: every year, the lestranges will hold a christmas party for only the oldest of pure-blood wizarding families. every year you are locked in your room while the party rages downstairs, but everything will change when tom riddle is invited to this year’s party. everything…

 The Lestrange name definitely held some irony, considering how strange the family truly was. The Mother sent an owl at lunch, the rolled parchment dropping onto the plate in front of Tiernan Lestrange. On either side of him sat Clarence Avery and Liam Mulciber, who gazed down at the rolled parchment sealed with the Lestrange family crest with sparkling irises. 

 “Is it for the party, Lestrange?” Avery asked as Lestrange took another bite of his sandwich, dusting his hands off before finally taking a hold of the parchment, untying the ribbon keeping it closed. “More than likely,” he replied as the parchment unraveled, his mother’s handwriting gazing back up at him in inky black cursive letters. 

 ‘To my dearest son,

 Tell your friends they’re more than welcome to join us on Christmas Eve for the party. Invite that Head Boy you were writing to me about too. I am most interested to meet him, since you speak so highly of him. Remind the Girl that she is to not speak of the party, I simply cannot have any more of her kind in the house. I will see you at King’s Cross Station, my darling. 

 With all my love, your mother.’

 Of course, the Girl referred to the Hufflepuff sitting all the way across the Great Hall at her own House’s table, her head down as she ate, so as to not catch the attention of her brother or any of his friends. She didn’t choose this family— and if it were her choice, she’d be far away from them— and neither did they. 

 It was the fault of whomever it was who dropped her onto the Lestranges’ doorstep in the wee hours of the morning when she was only an infant. The Mother had given birth to her son only a few months before, and found the crying baby on her doorstep to be quite a burden. 

 She asked herself why the Mother and the Father even bothered keeping her, for even before they learned of her blood status, they hated her. Perhaps it was to uphold their reputation— taking in a child who wasn’t theirs? It was the perfect foundation for the story of a kind-hearted pure-blood family— how could the Lestranges let that opportunity go?

 Of course, behind closed doors, she was treated less than a family member, some would argue far less than a house elf. She may as well have been a house elf if you ask her. She was treated like how they believed anyone of her kind should be treated— a mudblood deserved to be treated like the rubbish they are, they’d say. 

 Up until she got her Hogwarts letter, she believed them. She believed she deserved to be treated this way, that she deserved to be put through the torture that came with living with the Lestranges. She believed she had filthy blood, demon blood. 

 But all of that changed the second she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Of course, the Lestranges were at first very against letting her attend Hogwarts— mudbloods shouldn’t be taught magic, they’d say— but even they could only take so many letters flying through the fireplace or popping up in the stew before they gave in. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone of her blood status— “you are not to tell anyone of your filthy blood status,” the Father had told her with an accusatory finger in her face. “As far as anyone is concerned, you are pure-blood. So I expect you to act like it.” 

 Her school robes and supplies were not as grand as Tiernan’s, and she wasn’t allowed an owl or a cat or a toad. But she told herself that she would make do with what she had, and she felt at least a little bit grateful that the Lestranges didn’t give her tattered secondhand, even third-hand clothes, even if she knew it was all for the act. 

 When the Lestranges found out she had been sorted into Hufflepuff however, oh, it gave them all the more reason to ridicule and torture her back at home. “Of course the mudblood is in the weakest House,” the Mother would mutter beneath her breath as she and her husband read the letter their son had written. “We were fools to think that old ratty hat would sort her into Slytherin.”

 Tiernan and his friends— they made certain that her life at Hogwarts was just as bad as her life at home. Of course, Tiernan was the only one who knew the truth about her blood, Avery, Mulciber, and the others just tagged along because they found it funny. They loved calling her names, making her trip in the hallways, pulling pranks such as jinxing her school books so that they may not open no matter how hard she tried. 

 And still, she didn’t dare stand her ground, for she knew all too well that the Mother and the Father would catch wind of it, and make certain that she’d be on the first train back to King’s Cross Station. So instead, she dealt with Tiernan and his friends, just like she learned to deal with everything else. 

 But Tom… Tom Riddle was different. 

 Tiernan Lestrange and his friends worshiped the ground Tom Riddle walked on, and it was no secret. She remembered when she first saw Tom, all the way back in the Sorting Ceremony in her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered hearing his name ‘Riddle, Tom’ being called and she remembered watching as he approached the platform, settling himself down onto the stool. 

 She remembered the way their eyes met and she swore her knees turned into jelly when she gazed into those dark ravines he had for irises. And she remembered when the Sorting Hat exclaimed “Slytherin!” hardly before it had even touched a hair on his head. 

 And she remembered how disappointed she felt when she was called up to be sorted, the Sorting Hat put her into Hufflepuff. She wanted to be a Slytherin— she wanted to be wherever Tom Riddle was. 

 In all her time at Hogwarts, she’d never even spoken a word to Tom Riddle. They’d pass each other in the halls, but thanks to her brother, she’d never been given the chance to even tell him hello. And Tiernan made it clear that she never would. 

 So life went on, and she got older. She hoped that over time, she’d forget about Tom. But it was hard when he was made prefect, and when he was given the Special Award for Services to the School, and when he was made Head Boy at the beginning of their seventh and final year. 

 She remembered her fifth year during all the attacks on muggle-borns vividly as if it were only yesterday. She remembered how frightened she was when she realized it was muggle-borns whatever it was was attacking. She remembered the panic she felt when Hogwarts was on the brink of being closed— she couldn’t have that! She belonged at Hogwarts, not out there with the Lestranges where she was treated like vermin. 

 At least here, she could pretend to be someone she was not. 

 Of course Tiernan was no help, always taunting her and teasing her that she’d be next. She remembered when she heard that it was Rubeus Hagrid who had freed the muggle-born killing beast, how although she felt that it could not be Hagrid, she felt a sense of relief when he was expelled, when all the attacks had stopped. 

 And of course it was Tom Riddle who caught him. And of course it just made her admire him more and more. 

 But she would keep her distance. She’d admire him from afar. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment Tiernan would put her through if he found out she liked Tom Riddle. 

 “Yes! Looks like we’re invited, Mulciber,” Avery exclaimed, pumping his fist. Tiernan rolled his eyes at his friends, “you’re invited every year,” he replied, just as Tom entered the Great Hall, and they fell into silence as he approached. 

 She could see Tom over the tops of the heads of the Hufflepuffs in front of her, and she slowly sat up to get a better look. That was when Tom blinked up and she swore their eyes met, just for a moment, before he settled down into his seat, disappearing behind the heads of the other Hogwarts students. She felt herself flush as she hunched over her plate again, a small smile creeping onto her face. 

 “My Lord,” Tiernan Lestrange nodded as Tom settled himself between him and Liam Mulciber. Tom nodded in acknowledgement as he placed a few pieces of chicken onto his plate, and Tiernan’s gaze flickered from him to the rolled parchment in his lap. “My mother sent an owl,” he said, and Tom hummed in reply, nodding. Still, he said nothing. 

 Tiernan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, and Tom, with his eyes slightly narrower than before, peered up at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. Tiernan turned pink beneath Tom’s stare, and he presented the letter to him, Tom’s dark eyes flicking down to the inky black words on the scroll. 

 “My family, we… we hold a Christmas party every year,” he said, and when Tom glanced back up at him, he flushed again. “And you would’ve been invited! But it’s only for the oldest pure-blood families, and, well…” Tiernan trailed off when he saw the shadow looming over Tom’s already dark gaze, and Mulciber and Avery shifted in their seats uncomfortably. 

 Tiernan cleared his throat again, “but I’ve been speaking very highly of you to my mother. She wants you to come,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. Tom pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he stared back up at Lestrange, handing back the parchment. “Yes, I know. I can read, Tiernan,” Tom said sternly, and Tiernan clawed at his knees to prevent himself from trembling. 

 “Yes… well…” Lestrange said shakily as he rolled back up the parchment, slipping it inside one of his pockets. “…I’d really love it if you come. We’ll all be there— me, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott— and our families too, so you can meet them all!”

 Tom took a bite out of one of the chicken wings on his plate, placing it back down before wringing a napkin between his hands, gesturing towards Lestrange’s robes with his head. “Who is your mother referring to when she speaks of ‘the Girl?’” He asked, and heat crept back into Tiernan’s cheeks until they glowed scarlet. “Oh, you know… my sister…” he muttered, and Tom’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t she refer to her daughter by name?” Tom questioned, turning his body to fully face Tiernan, his interest piqued. “What does she mean by she ‘cannot have any more of her kind in the house?’”

 The other boys leaned in to hear what Tiernan would say next, and he knew now that there was no way to get out of this. He’d have to tell the truth not only to his friends, but to his Lord. 

 “Forgive me, my Lord, for asking this of you,” Tiernan hung his head and muttered lowly towards Tom. “But I must ask that you promise you won’t tell another soul about this. This goes for all of you, too,” he said towards Tom and the rest of their group. Lestrange gazed into each of their eyes and held contact for a moment with each, to make it known that he was serious. 

 Tom shrugged, “I promise.”

 Tiernan inhaled a shaky breath, before finally saying, “she… as you know, is not my sister,” he began. “And she’s not pure-blood, either. She’s a mudblood.”

 Mulciber, Avery, and the others all leaned closer and broke into a sea of murmurs, “that sure explains a lot. But a mudblood? In the Lestrange family?” Tom remained silent as he stared at Lestrange, beckoning for him to continue. “Her filthy muggle parents left her on our doorstep after she was born. My mother and father took her in purely out of the goodness of their hearts,” Tiernan sat up and stuck out his chest proudly. “And they kept her, even when they learned where she came from. So you see now why she never comes to the party. Mother always tells guests she’s never home for the party anyways.”

 The boys all laughed and ridiculed her while Tom, again, remained silent, staring absentmindedly down at his plate. He wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel. All this time he’d spent watching her, only catching glimpses of her from afar when he felt a gaze on him, watching as she turned away whenever she saw him with Tiernan and the others. 

 All this time he secretly lusted after her, the outcast of her family, the black sheep of the family. All this time he felt some sort of connection to her, all this time he felt he could relate to her because he, too, felt like an outcast. The outcast of the orphanage he grew up in, the outcast of the Gaunt family, the outcast of his muggle father’s family. 

 Tom Riddle never belonged anywhere, but he belonged here, at Hogwarts. And he knew she felt the same. 

 But would things change now that he knew she was muggle-born? Should he feel disgusted with himself now for ever thinking of pursuing her, for ever thinking of taking her in whichever way he pleased? Was it wrong of him to still lust for her, to still think of having his way with her? 

 Tom was clever but this, this he wasn’t sure of. 

 “So where has she been hiding during the parties?” Liam Mulciber asked, and Tiernan Lestrange snickered. “Mother and father force her up into her room. Says they’ll punish her accordingly if they hear even the smallest of noises coming from her room,” he replied, the boys erupting into another fit of snickers. Tom was still silent as he stared at his plate— he suddenly didn’t feel like eating. 

 The next day, she and a group of other Hogwarts students waiting to go home for the holidays gathered at Hogsmeade station, waiting for the arrival of the train. She snuck glances over to where Tiernan and his friends stood together, Tom in the middle of them all. She flushed and turned away when his head began to turn, and she moved to hide herself behind a few of her fellow Hufflepuffs, safe away from Tom Riddle’s view. 

 The train’s whistle echoed as the train emerged, slowing down to a stop before them. She dared gaze back over to where Tiernan stood with his friends as she waited for the doors to open, and when she did, Tom was no longer looking her way. She let herself stare for a little moment longer before she felt someone tap her shoulder, and blinked at the Hufflepuff girl in front of her with brown skin and shoulder length black hair she recognized as Clara Wingrave. 

 “Are you coming?” Clara asked, a furrow in her brow. She blinked and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat back down. “Yes, sorry Clara,” she mumbled as she followed the Hufflepuff girl onto the train, sliding into the seat opposite the one Clara chose. She sighed as she settled herself into the seat just as footsteps thundered through the train, and she hardly had any time to register what was happening before their compartment door slid open, revealing none other than Tiernan Lestrange, Clarence Avery, and Liam Mulciber, Tom and the other three boys nowhere in sight. 

 Clara narrowed her eyes at their intruders, “hey, go find your own—“

 “Shut it,” Mulciber hissed towards her. “No one allowed you to speak.”

 Clara’s glare hardened as Tiernan leaned down to block his adopted sister’s view, his lips curving into a cheshire grin. Her hands balled into fists, and she suddenly felt the strongest urge to slam them right into that crooked smile of his. 

 “Mother sent the owl this afternoon,” Tiernan muttered, and he needn’t elaborate, for she was already used to the rules she was forced to follow every year during the annual Lestrange Christmas party. “Oh yeah? And let me guess…  I’m not to speak of the party, I’m not to attend the party, I’m to stay up in my room and if I make even the smallest of noises, I’ll be punished accordingly? Is that all?” She asked quietly, so that the girl across from her could not hear. 

 Tiernan scowled and grabbed for her throat, much to Clara’s shock as she shrieked, giving her a firm shake. She pressed her lips closed and gazed into Tiernan’s dark umber eyes as they gleamed with mischief. “You dare give me attitude?” He tsked. “You just wait. I’ll tell mother and father about this and—“

 “—Tiernan? Won’t you leave her alone for Merlin’s sake, the train is about to leave.”

 She along with Clara, Tiernan, and his friends snapped their heads to the open compartment door where the Head Boy now stood, a furrow in his brow. He narrowed his eyes every so slightly, and he looked irritated. She flushed when she saw him and turned away as Tiernan released her, dusting off his clothes. She glimpsed up at him as he turned to leave, not without making sure to flash a dirty look her way over his shoulder before he slid the compartment door closed behind him. 

 “What the hell was that about?” Clara gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “I know it is common for siblings to fight, but that was just absurd.”

 She shook her head as she shifted in her seat, gazing out the window as the train began to move, and Hogsmeade station grew further and further away until it disappeared altogether. 

 “He’s not my brother.”

 The train ride back to King’s Cross Station seemed to go by quicker than usual, much to her dismay. She wished she could stay on the train forever rather than have to go back to living with the Lestranges, and wished that she had an invisibility cloak so that she could hide and be on her way back to Hogwarts within the hour. 

 But, since she didn’t, she sighed as she collected her bag with her few belongings and exited her compartment, stepping out of the train and onto Platform 9¾, where her eyes immediately fell upon the Mother and the Father where they stood, eyes narrowed when they fell upon their muggle-born adopted daughter. She huffed as she made her way over to them, standing beside the Mother with a considerable amount of distance between them. 

 “Where is my son?” The Mother asked through gritted teeth, and she shrugged her shoulders. “He and his friends should be getting off soon,” she replied, not daring to turn to look at the Mother. Sure enough, almost as soon as she finished saying it, there stepped out Tiernan and his friends, Tom Riddle close behind. The other boys left to greet their own parents, but Tiernan and Tom made their way over to where she stood beside the Lestranges, and she flushed. 

 Why was Tom coming over here?

 “Tiernan,” the Mother smiled, drawing her son into her chest for a hug. “And you must be… Tom, is that right? Hogwarts’ Head Boy?”

 She glanced over to where Tom stood, a charming smile plastered his face and she could feel heat creep back up her neck. She turned away from him before he could catch her staring.

 “It is nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Lestrange,” Tom greeted them, shaking Mr Lestrange’s hand and giving the top of Mrs Lestrange’s a polite kiss. “Oh!” Mrs Lestrange giggled. “I like this one. The manners!”

 Tom flashed his best smile but snuck a glimpse over to where the Lestranges adopted daughter stood, her arms crossed over herself as she looked anywhere but at him. He eyed her up and down just as Mrs Lestrange clutched either of his forearms, and he was forced to tear his attention away from the girl behind her.

 “Tiernan here tells me you’re from the orphanage?” Mrs Lestrange asked and Tiernan felt like shriveling away beside Tom. Tom only nodded in reply to which Mrs Lestrange tutted, “how about this? You’re welcome to come and stay with us for the holidays. We’d be delighted to have you.”

 She froze at this and her lips fell agape with the intent to protest, but nothing came out. She knew nothing she said would matter anyways, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being around Tom for the entirety of the holidays. She’d been comfortable leaving him at a safe distance away from her at school, but now she’d have to deal with seeing him at the Lestranges? She simply wouldn’t be able to trust herself being around him for so long. 

 “Thank you for your hospitality,” Tom beamed as Mrs Lestrange fussed over him, leading him away from the platform, and she, the Father, and Tiernan followed close behind. Tiernan made a point of ramming his shoulder into her every once in a while, and it took everything within her to control herself, to not shout or push him away. The Father saw this was happening but did nothing to stop it. 

 It wasn’t longer before they finally entered the Leaky Cauldron and made their way to the fireplace, and they each grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. The Father went first, then Mrs Lestrange, and Tiernan before it was down to her and Tom. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had ever been alone together, and she forced herself to look away as he stepped into the fireplace. 

 Tom was no stranger to her shy nature. He tilted his head to try and get a better look at her, watching as she peeked over at him only to find he was staring, and looked away again. He smiled, exclaimed “Lestrange Manor!” and he was gone, leaving her alone. 

 Soon, she too was back in the Lestrange Manor, and she nearly ran into Tom where he stood just before the fireplace. Her palms instinctively fell onto his back to find her balance, and oh, how she felt she’d explode where she stood. 

 It was the first time she had ever touched Tom, and she truly did not expect him to be so warm. Tom glanced back over his shoulder when he felt her hands on him and swiftly stepped out of her way, feeling her touch lingering on his back where she had touched him. Something ignited within him at that touch, and every doubt he had about still wanting to pursue her seemed to fray away. 

 He wanted her. 

 “Welcome to our home!” The Mother exclaimed with a smile as she dusted off the shoulder of Tom’s coat where some ash had fallen, letting her palms soothe back down all the way to his elbows. “Tiernan will show you where you will be staying. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

 She began to follow Tiernan and Tom as they headed for the staircase leading to the next level, but just before she could, the Mother grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her backwards to face her and the Father. She scowled down at her adopted daughter as soon as she made certain Tom was out of sight and leaned down until they were eye level. 

 “Listen to me, girl, and listen to me good,” the Mother said lowly. “You are to be on your best behavior while we have a guest in the home. You are to stay up in your room for the holidays except for meals, do you understand me, girl?”

 She blinked— normally, she’d hate the fact that she had to stay up in her room all hours of the day, but instead, she felt relief surge through her. At least she wouldn’t have to see Tom, at least she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself in front of him. 

 “Yes, Madam Lestrange,” she said as the Mother released her elbow, and the Father stepped forward, leaning down to eye level.

 “And you mustn’t leave your room under any circumstances during the party tomorrow evening,” he muttered. “If I hear even the smallest of sounds coming from your bedroom, I will punish accordingly and do understand, I will not show mercy.”

 She heard this rule every year, but still to this day, the way the Father threatened her sent chills down her spine. “Yes, Mr Lestrange,” she nodded and when the Father waved her off, she walked as fast as she could towards the stairs, practically sprinting up the steps and down the hallway until she finally reached her bedroom. 

 Tom and the rest of the Lestranges were already in the dining room when she finally bounded down the steps, and he could tell Mr and Mrs Lestrange were using all the self restraint they had within them to not blow up at her, most likely for his sake. He watched as she sat down across the table from where he and Tiernan sat, carefully only placing a small selection of food onto her plate. 

 He glanced back over to where Mr Lestrange sat on one end of the long dining table before looking over at Mrs Lestrange on the other end. Neither paid her any attention, or showed any intention of speaking to her. She didn’t seem to want to talk either. 

 “So, Tom, Tiernan tells me you’re exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Mr Lestrange said, shaking Tom from his thoughts. He forced a small smile as he nodded, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Yes, actually, I wish to become Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher one day.”

 She listened as she finished her dinner as quickly as she could, but she didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Tom’s story. She gazed over at the Mother who only nodded that she may be excused before she gathered her plate and hurried off to the kitchen where the Lestranges house elf cleaned. 

 “Thank you for the food, Gimbel,” she nodded at the house elf who only nodded back as she set her dirty plate on the pile of unclean dishes the house elf had stacked on the countertop. She hurried back upstairs where she shut herself in her room, sighing as she fell onto her mattress. 

 All she had left to endure was breakfast tomorrow morning, and she’d be free of seeing Tom for the rest of the day. She rested her arm over her eyes, her heart beating against her chest. She couldn’t believe the boy she’s been pining after since her first year is in her house, staying in only a few rooms down from hers. How she wished she could talk to him, to treat him like a guest rather than act like he wasn’t even there at all. 

 She even, for a moment, wished she was a true member of the Lestrange family, so that she could be treated as an equal. 

 Tom hardly saw her for breakfast the next morning, for as soon as he and Tiernan had entered the dining room, she was seemingly finished with her food, and once again scurried off towards the kitchen as she did the night before. Tiernan scoffed when he saw this as they took their seats on one side of the long dining table, loading their plates with biscuits and bacon and eggs. 

 “I apologize for her… strange behavior, my Lord,” Tiernan muttered to home as Tom took a sip of milk. “She’s always like this, you see.” Tom didn’t care to listen to whatever else Tiernan had to say about his adopted sister. Tom had already made up his mind about her, it was how he’d find the chance to talk to her that was the problem. 

 She seemed to avoid him like the plague, and he knew he more than likely wouldn’t be seeing her at all the rest of the day, since the Lestranges locked her in her room while they hosted their party. Tom was clever, so surely he’d be able to find a way around it?

 But as the time for the party to begin approached, he still came up with nothing. He had no excuse for wanting to see her, and with Tiernan practically breathing down his neck, he hadn’t any chance of sneaking away any time soon. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see her at all when the party began and Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, and Nott all came rushing towards him and Lestrange. He had no space absolutely no space and no time to sneak away. 

 “Don’t worry,” Lestrange was saying to his friends. “The mudblood is upstairs in her bedroom. Won’t be coming out at all tonight, that one.” The boys snickered as they called her names and made jokes about her, but Tom wasn’t listening. Even though it seemed as if all hope of seeing her tonight was lost, he was still thinking of every possible excuse he could come up with to sneak away. 

 But fortunately, he wouldn’t have to contemplate for much longer. 

 “Blast,” Lestrange cursed, feeling around his pockets. Clarence Avery furrowed his eyebrows as he watched his friend, the others soon joining in. “What is it?” Liam Mulciber asked as Lestrange emptied each of his pockets, coming up with nothing. “Left my damn wand in my room,” Lestrange muttered, and Tom perked at this. Lestrange turned to Tom and stepped closer to murmur close to his ear, “forgive me for asking you of this, my Lord, but I simply do not trust the others. Will you go upstairs and retrieve my wand for me? I can’t go upstairs, mother and father said I need to stay down here.”

 If Tom was the type, he’d laugh and jump up and down at the request. All day he had been trying to come up with some sort of excuse to slip away from the party, and now he finally had one. He cleared his throat and nodded, “of course,” he said to Lestrange before making his way over towards the staircase, but he did not stop at Tiernan’s bedroom door as he passed. 

 Instead, he walked a little further down the Lestranges upstairs hallway, stopping at the last door on the left where she was, the black wooden door the only thing separating him from her now. Tom raised a fist to the door and knocked, and for a moment, it was silent on the other side. 

 Who could possibly be knocking at her door?

 She knew it could not be any of the Lestranges, for they would’ve just burst through the door without any respect for her privacy anyways. It couldn’t be Gimbel either, the house elf never came to her room. She grew weary as she closed her book and set it down on the mattress beside her, clearing her throat before murmuring a low, “come in.”

 She watched as the handle to her door twisted and it swung open, and when she saw who was standing there in her doorway, she felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. She’d only ever dreamed of Tom Riddle being in her bedroom, but never before did she actually think he’d really come in here. 

 But there he was. There Tom Riddle stood, closing the door behind him and turning to gaze at her where she sat on her bed, his eyes entrancing as they were dark. Even from across the room, his irises seemed to pull her in like they were magnets and she was metal, and she lost herself further and further into his soul…

 “Forgive me,” Tom said, and she blinked. Those were the first words she had ever heard him direct towards her. “I would not usually barge into a lady’s room like this.”

 Fire raged across her skin, up her neck, and to her cheeks until they were seared with flame. She suddenly had the strongest urge to open the window, wondering if she had broken into a sweat yet or not. 

 She blinked again, and the corner of Tom’s lips curved into a soft smile. He knew he already had her wrapped around his finger. 

 “Your brother thought he left something in here,” he said, gesturing towards her desk against the far wall of the room. “May I?” 

 She could not think of anything Tiernan could have possibly left in her room, but she wouldn’t dare question Tom, so instead she nodded, and she watched as he strode across the room, opening her desk drawers and sifting through its contents. 

 Of course, Tom wasn’t searching for anything. But she needn’t know that yet. 

 “Hm,” Tom hummed, closing the drawers he had opened and turning to face her again, leaning back against the wooden desk. “Perhaps, your brother was mistaken.”

 She felt small underneath Tom’s gaze, and she felt as though she could curl herself into a ball right now and shrivel away. But instead she sat still on her bed, unable to speak, unable to move. Tom chuckled and she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, mentally cursing herself for being so shy. Typical Hufflepuff, she could imagine her adopted brother sneering. 

 “You know, you should really join the party,” Tom said, hoping to break the ice between them. She soothed the skin of her arms with her palms and rubbed at her elbows, shaking her head. “The Mother and the Father won’t let me attend,” she managed to speak at last, and she gulped down the lump in her throat. 

 Although Tom already knew the answer, he still tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Why is that?” He asked, and she swallowed again, forcing back down the truth. She dropped her head and shrugged, “because I’m different.”

 Tom blinked, and he suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, still living at the orphanage he grew up in. For over ten years, he grew up unlike all the other children, and even at an early and young age, he knew that he was different. It wasn't until Albus Dumbledore came to visit him that he finally understood why he felt this way. 

 It was different in her case, because at least she knew why she was different. But they were still treated the same, like they were misfits, rejects, outcasts. It was then that he understood the connection he felt towards her with a different meaning, that he first noticed this string tethering them together. 

 They had both been lost before, but just like he had found himself, she could be found too. Tom could be the one to find her, for he seemed to be the only one who understood her. 

 Tom’s footsteps permeated her bedroom as he made his way over towards her bed, setting himself down on the mattress beside her. She flinched when she felt the bed dip beneath his weight, and it was then that it occurred to her just how close he was. 

 They had never ever been this close before. 

 “Why are you different?” He asked, gazing down at her as she peered up, their eyes meeting closer than they ever have before. For a moment she said nothing, only continued to lose herself further in the dark depths of the treacherous caverns that were his eyes. He studied her— her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her lips. 

 It was no secret that she was beautiful, even Tom could admit that. But she was vulnerable, it was clear the moment Tom met her eyes again. And Tom could work with vulnerability. 

 “Well…” she trailed off, contemplating how much she should tell him. Tom’s fingers grazed against her knee and she trembled, her eyes flicking down to his hand and back up to his face. “You can tell me,” Tom said warmly. “You can tell me anything.”

 She blinked. Never before had she heard those words. Nobody has ever wanted to hear her story before, for they all thought they already knew it all by now. She was the child who was left on the Lestranges doorstep as a baby, the child the Lestranges took in to ‘raise as their own’ because they just couldn’t bear giving such a young girl away since they were so kindhearted. 

 So never had she ever thought she’d be given the chance to tell someone about herself, to let someone read her story. But there was something about Tom, and she felt like she could trust him. 

 “I’m… I was left on their doorstep as a baby,” she began, and Tom nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I was… I am muggle-born…” she trailed off, wincing as she searched Tom’s face for disgust, but he didn’t even recoil. He only gazed at her with that same patient stare, waiting for her to keep going. 

 So she did. 

 “They hate me for it,” she added. “For having dirty blood. I’m not sure why they kept me, I could’ve been a Squib or not even a witch at all for that matter. Thankfully, I got my Hogwarts letter when Tiernan did.” She wrung her hands together in her lap, Tom’s warmth drawing her even closer to him. “It certainly didn’t help that I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.”

 She swallowed the lump in her throat back down again, and Tom let his palm rest on her knee again, his touch warm, like a kiss from the sun itself. She felt relaxed when he touched her, despite how nervous she actually was inside. 

 “They treat me… so bad,” she whispered. “They treat me like I’m nothing.”

 Her voice wavered before it broke, and when it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to continue, the hand that had previously been resting on her knee retreated so that it may instead reach her face. Gently, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face up to his, her teary eyes searching his for something, anything she could hold onto. Warmth, comfort, reassurance, hope, anything. 

 So Tom would tell her what she wanted to hear. 

 “You are not nothing,”  Tom murmured, and her lip quivered the longer she stared at him. “You are somebody. Don’t let them take that feeling away from you.”

 She blinked and her brow softened, her vision blurring with tears. She was somebody. Tom Riddle thought she was somebody. 

 And somehow, that seemed to be all she needed to hear. 

 A silence ensued and they only gazed deeper into one another’s eyes. With the grip still on her chin, he drew her near and he leaned down to meet her halfway, his lips pressing against hers softly, as tenderly as he could. He felt the way she shuddered under his touch, as if his kiss was a tranquilizer, and she was becoming limp and pliant, all for him. 

 So he kissed her deeper, he kissed her harder. His tongue was warm in her mouth as she let him reign dominance over her own, her hands shaking as one cupped the side of his face and the other grabbed his bicep. 

 This was what Tom Riddle had been fantasizing about for years. To have her compliant beneath him, to have her completely under his control. He loved how easy it was, how easy it was to have her. Although he’d admit, this connection he felt towards her was growing, and it was growing at an alarming rate. As he pushed her down onto the mattress and trailed his kisses down from her lips to her jaw, he found that his heart burned, as if she had set it aflame, and this feeling was foreign to him. 

 He had no idea what this tenderness he felt was, whether he dared call it love or not. For eighteen years, he was under the impression that he couldn’t love, that love simply just wasn’t in the cards for him, and he was completely okay with that. 

 But this feeling, whatever it was he felt for her, came unexpectedly, and he was unsure whether or not he should embrace it or push it away. 

 For now, he worked at unbuttoning her blouse as he sucked marks into her neck, his tongue swirling around her collarbone. 

 She pressed her lips together to contain her noises as Tom slipped her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms, discarding it down onto the floor altogether. He made quick work of her brassiere, his lips previously kissing her collarbone venturing down between the valley of her breasts, sucking marks onto either mounds of flesh. 

 “T… Tom,” she mewled as he pressed a kiss to one of her nipples, kneading her opposite breast with his palm. He hummed in reply, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he sucked the erect bud, releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to the other. She squirmed beneath him and squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back up off of the mattress. “T… Tom, I… they will punish me if they hear me.”

 Tom smirked against her skin as he released her nipple from his mouth and kissed down her stomach, past her belly button, all the way to the hem of her skirt. He pushed himself up by the elbows as he hooked his fingers over the hem, beginning to tug them down her thighs. 

 “Then I suggest you stay quiet,” he said simply as he removed her skirt from her ankles, her panties soon joining the sea of clothes on the floor as well. 

 She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip so hard when he placed a kiss just above her aching clit, she feared she’d draw blood. Tom eyed her through his hooded stare as he teasingly dipped his tongue past her folds, testing the waters. He watched as her face scrunched and she kicked her legs, arching her back at just the simplest of touches. 

 So eager, he thought. 

 He soothed her stomach with one of his palms as he pecked her clit, watching the way she trembled and writhed, whining behind closed lips, silent pleading for more. Tears broke past the glossy barrier of her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks like crystals, and he smirked as he pressed his lips down against her heat, sucking her clit as it throbbed and ached to be touched. 

 She threw her hands down on the mattress on either side of her, her fingernails clawing at the sheets as he flicked his tongue up and down her slit, humming at the taste of her nectar on his tongue. She tried to watch as he lapped up the juices spilling down her folds before flicking his tongue against her bud again, but she couldn’t even hold herself up, much less keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds. 

 “P… please,” she mewled quietly as one of her hands ventured down between her legs to grip at his hair, and she ground her hips against his face, eager for more. That was when Tom stopped and pried her hand away from his head, and she blinked up at him through her bleary eyes. 

 “Do you want to come?” He asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, shouldering it off of him and tossing it to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. She gaped at the sight of his chest, but he grabbed her face again and forced her to look at him, squishing her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.”

 She trembled and felt her walls clench at his words, nodding up and down. “Yes. Yes please,” she whimpered as he tore his hand away from her face to work on his belt, tossing it and his trousers away until he stood before her completely in the nude, in all of his glory. 

 He was beautiful. And he was already beautiful to begin with but this, she never could have even imagined how he looked underneath the clothes. He wasn’t muscular or built like a statue or even a Quidditch player, but still, his arms and torso were toned, and his cock…

 She could feel her patience slipping away the longer he kept her waiting. She watched as he took a hold of his cock and stared down at her, maintaining eye contact as he gave himself a few pumps, his other hand absentmindedly stroking up and down her slick. She bit down onto her lip as she gazed up at him, watching him in anticipation for what was to come next. 

 Tom leaned back down to her face and captured her lips with his, unable to resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her again and again and again as he slipped inside of her, her moans muffled by his mouth on hers. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin, etching crescent moons into his flesh. Tom broke their kiss and let his forehead drop onto hers as he rocked his hips into her, slowly at first. One of her hands slithered to cup the back of his neck as tears streamed down the sides of her face, never feeling this good in all her years. 

 Tom let his gaze fall upon her face again, her eyelids squeezed shut but her face scrunched in pleasure, every once in a while muffling her sounds by pressing her face into his shoulder. He began to thrust harder than before, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing, beckoning him further inside of her. So he fucked her harder, and harder and harder and harder as if he intended to break her, to shatter her into a million pieces. 

 And maybe that was the goal all along. 

 Never has Tom felt this good, never had he felt so intoxicated by another person, and never did he believe he could be so attached to someone else before. Part of him hated it, part of him wanted to throw it away and stomp on it and set it on fire. 

 But the other part of him embraced it, another part of him felt powerful as he fucked into her with reckless abandon, powerful having someone underneath his control. He never imagined another person could feel so good, he never imagined someone else could make him feel so infinite. As far as he was concerned, he was doing just fine on his own. 

 But this was different. This was on a whole other level of power. He felt strong, even when she clenched around him and gushed around his cock, even when he felt himself so close to the edge, so close to releasing himself for another person. 

 He pushed away from from her and groped her chest with one hand, holding onto her shoulder with the other as he fucked her harder than before, without a care for how much noise they were making. He’d make it up to the Lestranges, he’d go down and tell them it was him making all the noise, it wasn’t like they’d punish him. 

 For now, he focused on chasing his release, on the way she felt around him, on the way he was so close to climax he could practically taste it. She sobbed beneath him and her lips fell agape with the intent of screaming his name but he clapped his hand around her mouth before she could as he thrusted again and again and again until finally he released, and warmth surged through her. 

 Tom’s chest heaved and he fell on top of her as she cried, motionless beneath him. Sweat made her skin glisten and tears made her cheeks swollen and sticky, but he found that he admired her all the same. 

 This warmth in his chest was new, and it was a feeling he couldn’t quite place or put a finger on. But if whatever it was could make him feel like he was on top of the world, like he was the most powerful being on this Earth, like he was infinite…

 …then surely he could learn to embrace it. 

a/n; oop this is the longest imagine i’ve ever written 🙈 thank you so much for the request anon! i wrote this one up pretty fast because i really liked the idea, it definitely wasn’t stupid! so i hope this is close to what you’ve been imagining!! and feel free to send in more requests if you’d like! i love writing requests!

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza 🥹🫶

[dirtylittlecubbs]

❥ Pairing ➳ Best friend!Seungmin x Fem!Reader

❥ Genre ➳ Smut

❥ Word Count ➳ 1K

❥ Warnings ➳ Pervert!Seungmin, panty stealing, invasion of privacy but that's a given with pervert au's, Seungmin is down bad and a little obsessed but we'll let it slide cause Reader kind of is too

Seungmin was frozen in place on the floor beside your bed. His knees were beginning to ache from the position but he couldn't move. The warm forest green cover of the book slipping out from under your mattress stared back at him, rooting him in place. The word “𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦” written in gold cursive along the spine echoed in his brain.

He should get up and leave. He shouldn't stay in your room any longer. He had what he'd come for. The soft linen underwear from your dirty laundry hamper safely tucked away in the pocket of his jeans. He couldn't read your diary. That would be too much. (As if stealing your underwear wasn't already bad in itself) He just couldn't invade even more of your privacy like that.

The thought of how you'd react if you came back from the mall and found him on your bedroom floor, your diary in his hands made his stomach churn. You'd be angry no doubt and he'd have to explain why he was in your room to begin with. The thought of having to confess he's the reason your underwear has been disappearing and reappearing made him want to throw up with guilt.

Seungmin's fingers were beginning to itch, they burned with the desire to feel the hardcover of the book, to trace along the roses indented into it. He wonders for a moment if it'd smell like you. The design was just like you, you loved flowers, especially roses. Of course you'd choose a book so perfect for you to write your most precious thoughts in. Did you write about him? Seungmin wonders. If you did, what did you say? What do you think of him? Did you like him? Did you secretly hate his guts?

He needed to know.

Seungmin reaches out for the book and yanks it from underneath your mattress. He scrambles to his feet and runs to hide in your guys’ shared bathroom. He locks the door behind him and drops to the floor right in front of the door. His breathing quickens as he stares down at the embroidered green cover, gold flecks placed here and there along the edges & inside the indented roses.

With shaky hands he opens to the first page. It seems you'd only gotten the diary recently because you've been a little stressed and needed a way to vent about some thoughts you've been having. A pang of guilt rushes through Seungmin's heart.

The way you write is so endearing to Seungmin. You write as though you were sharing your thoughts with someone, speaking to the diary and not just simply writing in a book. There's cute little doodles along the edges of the pages and what Seungmin assumes to be emoji's written in between your paragraphs. It's cute the way they're all drawn misshapen and some are even colored in with markers.

Seungmin can't help but be endeared, his love for you and your creativity growing even more. Adoration fills his heart while he reads each page. Up until this point you'd only written about Seungmin in passing. From what he can tell, you see him as a very cool, fun & caring friend. Seungmin would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit annoyed at the term “friend” being used to describe him, until he turned onto an entry that seemed to have been written only a few days ago.

𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐

𝗍һᥙrsძᥲᥡ 23rძ ####

ᥱᥒ𝗍rᥡ ##

і ძ᥆ᥒ'𝗍 kᥒ᥆ᥕ ᥕһᥲ𝗍 𝗍᥆ ძ᥆. і𝗍 ᥴrᥱᥱ⍴ᥱძ ᥙ⍴ ᥆ᥒ mᥱ ᥲᥒძ і ძ᥆ᥒ'𝗍 kᥒ᥆ᥕ һ᥆ᥕ 𝗍᥆ 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ ᥲᥒᥡm᥆rᥱ. і ძ᥆ᥒ'𝗍 kᥒ᥆ᥕ ᥕһᥱᥒ і𝗍 һᥲ⍴⍴ᥱᥒᥱძ ᥆r һ᥆ᥕ ᥆r ᥕһᥡ, і'᥎ᥱ ᥆ᥒᥣᥡ ᥱ᥎ᥱr sᥱᥱᥒ һіm ᥲs ᥲ g᥆᥆ძ 𝖿rіᥱᥒძ. ᥲ ᥴᥣ᥆sᥱ ᥆ᥒᥱ ᥱ᥎ᥱᥒ. і ძ᥆ᥒ'𝗍 kᥒ᥆ᥕ ᥕһᥲ𝗍 һᥲ⍴⍴ᥱᥒᥱძ.

𝗍һᥱsᥱ 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣіᥒgs і'm gᥱ𝗍𝗍іᥒg, і'm s᥆ һ᥆rᥒᥡ 𝖿᥆r һіm ᥲᥒძ і һᥲ᥎ᥱ ᥒ᥆ іძᥱᥲ ᥕһᥱrᥱ і𝗍 ᥴᥲmᥱ 𝖿r᥆m. 𝗍һᥱ 𝗍ᥱᥒsі᥆ᥒ ᑲᥱ𝗍ᥕᥱᥱᥒ ᥙs іs s᥆ 𝗍һіᥴk, 𝗍һᥱ ᥕᥲᥡ һᥱ 𝗍᥆ᥙᥴһᥱs mᥱ sᥱ𝗍s mᥡ ᑲᥣ᥆᥆ძ ᥆ᥒ 𝖿іrᥱ, і𝗍 ᥱ᥊ᥴі𝗍ᥱs mᥱ, і ᥴᥲᥒ'𝗍 һᥱᥣ⍴ ᑲᥙ𝗍 𝗍һіᥒk ᥕһᥲ𝗍 һᥱ'ᥣᥣ ძ᥆ ᥒᥱ᥊𝗍.

і𝖿 𝗍һᥱrᥱ ᥕᥱrᥱᥒ'𝗍 ⍴ᥱ᥆⍴ᥣᥱ ᥲr᥆ᥙᥒძ, ᥕ᥆ᥙᥣძ һᥱ ᑲᥱ ᑲ᥆ᥣძᥱr? ᥕ᥆ᥙᥣძ һіs 𝗍᥆ᥙᥴһᥱs ᑲᥱ m᥆rᥱ ძᥲrіᥒg? іᥒsіs𝗍ᥱᥒ𝗍?

ȷᥙs𝗍 sі𝗍𝗍іᥒg һᥱrᥱ ᥕrі𝗍іᥒg 𝗍һіs і ᥴᥲᥒ'𝗍 һᥱᥣ⍴ ᑲᥙ𝗍 𝗍һіᥒk ᥲᑲ᥆ᥙ𝗍 һіm 𝖿ᥙᥴkіᥒg mᥱ. һіm 𝗍ᥲkіᥒg mᥱ 𝖿r᥆m ᑲᥱһіᥒძ, ᑲᥙrіᥱძ s᥆ ძᥱᥱ⍴ іᥒsіძᥱ mᥱ 😩 і ᥴᥲᥒ'𝗍 s𝗍᥆⍴ 𝗍һіᥒkіᥒg ᥲᑲ᥆ᥙ𝗍 і𝗍 ᥲᥒძ і𝗍's s᥆ 𝖿rᥙs𝗍rᥲ𝗍іᥒg!

і ᥕᥲᥒ𝗍 𝗍᥆ rіძᥱ һіm, і ᥕᥲᥒ𝗍 һіm 𝗍᥆ s⍴ᥲᥒk mᥱ. і ᑲᥱ𝗍 һіs 𝖿іᥒgᥱrs ᥕ᥆ᥙᥣძ 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ s᥆ g᥆᥆ძ іᥒsіძᥱ mᥱ. 𝗍һᥱᥡ'rᥱ ᥣ᥆ᥒgᥱr ᥲᥒძ 𝗍һіᥴkᥱr 𝗍һᥲᥒ mіᥒᥱ ᥲᥒძ ᥴ᥆ᥙᥣძ ⍴r᥆ᑲᥲᑲᥣᥡ rᥱᥲᥴһ ⍴ᥣᥲᥴᥱs іᥒ ᥒᥱ᥎ᥱr ᥴ᥆ᥙᥣძ.

і 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ ᥲᥣm᥆s𝗍 ᑲᥲძ s𝗍іᥣᥣ 𝗍ᥲᥣkіᥒg 𝗍᥆ һіm ᥲs і𝖿 һᥱ's ȷᥙs𝗍 ᥲ 𝖿rіᥱᥒძ. һᥱ mᥲkᥱs mᥱ 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ s᥆ g᥆᥆ძ ᥲᑲ᥆ᥙ𝗍 mᥡsᥱᥣ. і 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ s᥆ gᥙіᥣ𝗍ᥡ һᥲ᥎іᥒg 𝗍һᥱsᥱ 𝗍һ᥆ᥙgһ𝗍s ᥲᑲ᥆ᥙ𝗍 һіm ᥕһᥱᥒ һᥱ ⍴r᥆ᑲᥲᑲᥣᥡ ძ᥆ᥱsᥒ'𝗍 ᥱ᥎ᥱᥒ sᥱᥱ mᥱ 𝗍һᥲ𝗍 ᥕᥲᥡ. ᑲᥙ𝗍 ᥒ᥆ ȷᥙs𝗍 ᥴᥲᥒ'𝗍 һᥱᥣ⍴ і𝗍!

ᥱ᥎ᥱᥒ ᥒ᥆ᥕ і'm s᥆ᥲkіᥒg 𝗍һr᥆ᥙgһ mᥡ ᥙᥒძᥱrᥕᥱᥲr ȷᥙs𝗍 𝗍һіᥒkіᥒg ᥲᑲ᥆ᥙ𝗍 һ᥆ᥕ ᑲіg һіs ძіᥴk ⍴r᥆ᑲᥲᑲᥣᥡ іs. һ᥆ᥕ і𝗍'ძ 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ іᥒsіძᥱ mᥱ. і'm ᥴrᥲ᥎іᥒg і𝗍. ძ᥆ і s᥆ᥙᥒძ іᥒsᥲᥒᥱ? і s᥆ᥙᥒძ ᥆ᑲsᥱssᥱძ 😅 іs 𝗍һᥲ𝗍 ᑲᥲძ? 😕 і 𝖿ᥱᥱᥣ ᥣіkᥱ і'm ᥲᑲ᥆ᥙ𝗍 𝗍᥆ ᥱ᥊⍴ᥣ᥆ძᥱ 😬 ᥕһᥡ ᥲrᥱ ᥡ᥆ᥙ ᥲ𝖿𝖿ᥱᥴ𝗍іᥒg mᥱ s᥆ mᥙᥴһ kіm sᥱᥙᥒgmіᥒ??? 😫

ᥕrі𝗍𝗍ᥱᥒ ᑲᥡ Y/ᑎ ᒪ/ᑎ

𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐

Seungmin’s vision is blurry. He feels faint. He can barely hear the thrumming of his own heart through the flood of blood that's rushed through his ears. You like him back. You like him. And you want him. You want him as much as he wants you. You crave him.

Seungmin is pulled out of his head by the sound of the living room door unlocking and opening. Shit. He quickly dives out of the bathroom and runs back over to your bed as quietly as possible, slipping the book back under the mattress exactly where and how he'd found it before slipping back into your shared bathroom and into his own room.

You open your bedroom door and enter, it's the same as you'd left it. Well…except for the underwear you apparently left sitting on the floor in the middle of your room. It probably fell out of your laundry in your hurry to leave this morning.

As you're reaching out to pick it up and throw it back in the hamper beside your dresser you jump at the sound of a yell coming from Seungmin's room. A very loud “Fuck!” breaching the thin walls of your shared apartment.

╭✧────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ──────────✧╮

@stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut @skzms @skzdarlings @kaciidubs @hanjibug

╰✧────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ──────────✧╯

Note: This was inspired by one of my lovely irl's Kimchi (my nickname for her) So y'all thank her for this👏🏼❤✨

© 143-hornycore 2024 | Do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto other platforms without my ppermission.