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sunderwight · 1 month ago

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Okay, so the canonically confirmed Cang Qiong peaks are:

Qiong Ding (leader peak, CEO peak, politician/diplomacy peak, admin peak, etc)

Qing Jing (scholar & artists peak, knowledge peak, strategic advisor peak, etc)

Wan Jian (sword guy peak, blacksmith peak, armory peak, etc)

An Ding (logistics peak, servants peak, peak of the cang qiong labor party, delivery guys & messengers peak, supplies & catering peak, etc)

Xian Shu (gender segregation peak: girl flavor)

UNKNOWN

Bai Zhan (shounen anime peak)

Qian Cao (healer peak, pharmacy peak, first responders peak, etc)

Ku Xing (gender segregation peak: boy flavor, ascetic peak)

Zui Xian (alcohol peak)

UNKNOWN

So we only have three peaks that are entirely unnamed and unaccounted for. This has pretty good utility if you want to do a transmigration fic where Airplane and Shen Yuan are there as peak lords, but so are OG Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu. You can just give them two of the three mystery peaks, and then there's only one peak remaining for an OC and kapow, you've got all twelve peak lords sorted.

But the question of course, is what should these peaks actually be? What should they specialize in?

Fandom has argued in favor of a Beast Peak, and I actually endorse this idea, although I think specializing in demonic beasts is more of a Bai Zhan and Qing Jing thing. But while we can suppose that between An Ding, Qian Cao, and (probably) Zui Xian the agricultural needs of the sect are being met (or met sufficiently for what they can also supplement through trade), there's no clear existing peak to outsource things like training spirit animals or keeping any livestock that the peak might require. And hey, if there is a Beast Peak, then them also having some expertise in demonic beasts would be interesting.

I think the Beast Peak would slot in most logically between Xian Shu and Bai Zhan.

For the lowest peaks, things get more interesting. While there are obvious roles such as talisman making, barriers, musical cultivation, etc, most of those things seem like they'd either be covered by one of the other peaks (i.e. Qing Jing and musical cultivation) or else would be strange things for the sect to acquire so late, literally after the peak that specializes entirely in brewing.

But, that actually can work out, if we assume that these peaks have taken as specialties things that were previously secondary or tertiary interests to other peaks. Perhaps even owing their origins to particularly capable disciples from the other, more highly ranked peaks who showed such prodigal skill or innovation in that area that they were allowed to establish new peaks focusing on it.

For my money, I'd go with a Barrier Peak, specializing in protective barriers, talismans, and spiritual cultivation that shot off from Qing Jing during some long-prior generation. This peak could also be responsible for guard duties in the sect, basically sending disciples to close off unsafe or prohibited areas, to manage things like access to the various branches of the Lingxi caves, sealing off dangerous items, and (probably) helping to maintain existing barriers, arrays, and other such systems throughout the sect.

I think this peak would be a decent fit for Airplane, as it would once again situate him pretty close to matters of daily sect operations, and put him in position to know a lot of the secrets and goings on beneath the surface of things. So a plausible explanation for his authorial knowledge and insights would simply be, Barrier Peak are the flies on the wall of a lot of high-level matters. If someone breaks into a restricted area, they know about it. If someone wants something hidden, sealed, or disguised, they know about it.

Bonus angst: this would probably mean that the Barrier Peak's head disciple assisted in sealing a young Yue Qi inside the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su. If that's Airplane, well, that's twisting a knife a bit now isn't it?

Which just leaves peak no.12, which frankly could be any damn thing. After Booze Peak and Girl Peak, the field is wide open. Dance Battle Peak. Transit System Peak. Spiritually Infused Textiles Peak.

My personal favorite, though, is Sex Worker Peak. Not only because that is the most fanfic-y option, but also because it actually kind of makes sense.

The PIDWorld is just chock full of fuck-or-die tropes, which makes there are countless substances, ailments, curses, etc that can only be cured via sex. Not just for cultivators, but also for everyone else in the world. Like imagine you're an NPC magistrate or something just out there managing your district, having only the most tangential connection to the plot, and one day you're going for a walk and you trip and fall and manage to land right in a field full of sex pollen that cropped up like weeds overnight. Because that's just how this shit works, it doesn't wait for the protagonist to exist in order to activate, it's all got to be out there all the time in order to be there when the wife plot happens, and also for various experts to have accumulated all the mandatory exposition points about how it works.

But you're just some normal guy! You don't want to die of Horny, but the best way to clear this up is not just to have sex, but to have sex with a cultivator who is at least moderately good at using the exchange of spiritual energy to purge your body of the sex pollen poison.

Unless you're lucky enough to know someone, you're probably going to be in the market for professional help here, like even apart from all the other reasons people like to hire sex workers. This is a situation that probably happens fairly often and for which "hire someone to fix it and then move on with your life" is probably the ideal solution. As a bonus, a professional sex cultivation expert is probably also going to minimize your risks for unwanted side effect like STDs and pregnancy, too.

So, imagine we have Qian Cao peak struggling under the workload of all these requests for help with dual cultivation. The problem isn't prudery, but that this stuff is so commonplace it eats up time that could also be allocated to things like research and other medical emergencies. Plus, you have political leaders (kings, princes, emperors, etc) always demanding to be sent your "best" disciples to attend to them, when quite frankly their condition is something even an outer disciple could handle in less time than it would take them to travel out to their location, and these fuckers are not-infrequently liable to try and steal your people away into concubinage too.

One day then, much like with Qing Jing and the Barrier Peak, the Qian Cao peak lord of yore gets fucking fed up and is just like, this requires it's own department. Zhangmen-shijie we're starting a new peak. I'm not asking you I'm telling you. It's a medical peak entirely devoted to sex work. My best disciple at sex, who is in the running for Head Disciple status almost entirely because of this shit, is going to be the new Peak Lord. Any time some princess gets her vagina cursed and needs dick badly, the new peak are going to handle it, while I get to finally fucking finish my research into organ transplants.

And the sect leader of that era, knowing what was good for her, was like yes okay rubber stamp that we have twelve peaks now. Twelve's a good number we probably should have done this sooner anyway. What do you mean we don't have that much mountain? Eh, we'll haul some dirt in and make it happen.

Other Sex Worker Peak Thoughts:

Obviously, raising disciples from the age of ten upwards into this kind of work is controversial at best. Depending on tone, a fic author could either accept that grooming children for sex work was a historical practice and examine the fucked-up-ness of it all, or, we could go another direction and make a case that this is generally the peak which takes on older prospective disciples.

After all, dual cultivation is actually good at helping with setbacks and restoring a damaged cultivation base. You could argue for it being the ideal cultivation approach for latecomers. There could even be a precedent for adult disciples from the other peaks transferring to the Twelfth Peak/Sex Worker Peak if they show an aptitude for the work, and for disciples to temporarily join them as part of repairing or preventing damage from qi deviations.

This could also be a contributing factor to Shen Jiu being like, I have to not only be on Qing Jing Peak but also be the absolute boss of Qing Jing Peak with as few people able to gainsay me as possible, because he's terrified of being ordered to pimp himself out.

Not that he would be, though, because I imagine the sexpert cultivators are pretty well aware of how trauma works and who does or doesn't actually have the right temperament for their business, or what jobs within that business. It's their specialty, after all. If someone is going to have a panic attack and qi deviate over doing the job, that someone is not a good candidate for the job, or for these types of treatments overall.

Sometimes Twelfth Peak loses people on account of them falling in love with their clients or deciding to take some king up on his concubinage offers, but it happens less than one might think. After all, it's basically like working for the best brothel in existence. They have rigorous hygiene and healthcare standards, you get access to all the generalized medical care from Qian Cao, travel expenses are covered and you don't have to work out of your home if you don't want to, your food and housing is supplied by the sect, you're trained in cultivation and martial arts, with a shot at achieving immortality, and you don't even have to work every day because the jobs are contingent on what's being requested, not on you making rent money. In addition to physical cultivation, you can also make and sell tons of erotic art or "love tokens" and it will sell for a lot because of the social mystique of sexy cultivators. A pair of twelfth peak lord's panties probably goes for just as much as one of Shen Qingqiu's fancy calligraphy paintings. So unless you really want to live with some dude, switching over to depending on him for your upkeep doesn't seem all that appealing as a prospect.

Additional fun with this idea is that it would also potentially be an interesting peak lord role for either Airplane or Shen Yuan to end up in. Airplane would probably be like, well I guess this is karma for putting so much gratuitous smut in my stories, and then actually manage the hell out of the whole peak and enjoy himself by only taking on the jobs he actually cares to. Not a bad gig, especially compared to his previous grind. On the other hand, Shen Yuan's internal freak out and subsequent attempts to somehow be the Sex Peak Lord while not actually having any sex would be a potential comedy/suspense goldmine.

#svsss #svsss meta #long post #scum villain #scum villain's self saving system #bonus luo binghe transferring to the sex peak as soon as he's old enough because he wants to be with shen yuan shishu #and shen yuan is just like. well maybe this IS his true calling. all things considered #but then why does he keep turning down jobs and spending all of his time in shen yuan's rooms...?#don't tell him the stallion protagonist is shy!

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rosierin · 3 months ago

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double trouble | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; the twins are doing some manual labour under the hot sun and (y/n) can't help but catch a sneaky glance or two or three when they eventually take off their shirts.

a/n; what can i say guys? im in france and the sun's got me feeling all silly

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

In her defence, (y/n) hadn’t meant to stare.

It just… sort of happened. Like blinking. Or breathing. One moment she was sitting in the kitchen sipping iced tea, gloriously unbothered. The next—

Well.

The twins had taken their shirts off.

And really, there should’ve been a warning. A government-issued alert. Maybe a health advisory. Something to prepare the public. Because this? This was just cruel.

They were scattered across their tiny backyard, moving a bunch of supplies from the car to the shed—lumber, bags of soil, some mystery item Osamu had bought for his garden project that weighed roughly the same as a baby elephant.

And okay, yeah, she could have offered to help.

But someone had to supervise. For... For safety reasons.

And hydration. Since she was already sipping tea.

It was boiling out—sun glaring, air thick, the kind of summer heat that made everything sticky and slightly unbearable. It made sense that they’d stripped their shirts off. Necessary, if you asked her.

Now, here’s the thing about the Miya twins: sure, they were genetically identical. But when it came to thirst?

Very different flavours.

Atsumu was golden and obnoxiously pretty, all tan skin and arrogant smirks. Every time he flexed his biceps lifting something heavy—grunting like an Olympic athlete, on purpose, she was sure—she could've sworn she'd seen God. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and every time he reached for something overhead, his whole torso flexed—showcasing toned abs and the kind of sinful V-line that made her question her faith.

Meanwhile, Osamu looked like he’d walked out of a home renovation fantasy. Dust on his forearms, jaw tense with focus, sweat beading down his neck. Those forearms. Those shoulders. The way his back flexed when he lifted a bag of gravel? Criminal.

The kind of guy who could build you a deck and then build you a reputation, if you caught her drift.

He grunted once. (Y/n) almost passed out.

She bit her lip so hard she nearly bruised it.

"I’m not better than a man," she whispered to herself, staring through the window like a Victorian widow at sea.

Double the muscles.

Double the sweat.

Double the hotness.

She was dizzy. Delirious. Probably dehydrated from the sheer amount of drool she was swallowing.

“You’re disgusting,” came a voice to her left.

She jumped.

Suna.

Of course it was Suna.

He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at her like a disappointed parent.

“Do I even wanna know what’s going through your filthy little mind right now?”

“No,” she said quickly. “And also, yes. But mostly no.”

He snorted. “Why don’t you just go up to them and tell them they’re hot?”

“No way,” she said, aghast. “That’s like walking up to a fire and saying, ‘hi, I’m flammable.’”

He raised a brow. “So you’re gonna keep ogling from the shadows like a little perv?”

“Correct.”

Suna poured himself a drink. Took a sip. Didn't argue. “Respect.”

She thought the worst of it was over.

She thought, I’ll survive this. I’ll just finish my tea, cool off, pretend I didn’t spend the last ten minutes mentally objectifying my friends.

She thought wrong.

Because a few minutes later, the screen door slid open with a bang, and in walked Atsumu—shirtless, sweaty, pressing a water bottle to the side of his neck.

Condensation trickled down his shoulder. His collarbone. His chest...

(Y/n) choked on her peach tea.

Suna snickered into his glass. “Karma’s so efficient these days.”

Atsumu didn’t seem to notice her state of physical and spiritual collapse—at first. He crossed the kitchen with casual swagger, cracked open the fridge, and stood there like he didn’t just set the room on fire.

That’s when it happened.

He looked over his shoulder—right at her. His eyes flicked across her face, clocking the flushed cheeks, the guilty stillness.

Then he grinned.

“Ya been watchin’ me, angel?”

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip, brain absolutely blank.

No thoughts. Just panic. And lust. And more panic.

“I—what—no,” she said, like someone who had absolutely been watching him. “No, I was looking at… the shed.”

Atsumu turned fully, eyebrow raised, lips twitching like he just knew. “Oh yeah? …The shed," he deadpanned.

“Yeah,” she said, defensive. “Very… shed-y. Strong architectural presence.”

He tilted his head, slow and smug. “Right.”

Suna, from behind his drink, drawled, “She almost passed out when Osamu grunted.”

“RIN.”

Atsumu burst into laughter, clutching his glorious sixpack stomach. “Shit, you were watchin’ us!”

(Y/n) dragged her hands down her burning face. “I hate this house.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Atsumu cooed, leaning against the counter with full, blinding confidence. “If ya wanted a private show, all ya had to do was ask.”

She groaned into her palms. “I’m gonna combust."

“‘Cause of the heat?” Atsumu asked innocently.

“Because of you,” she snapped, glaring like this was all his fault. "And your stupid brother."

"You guys talkin' shit about me?"

(Y/n) nearly fainted on the spot.

Osamu had just walked in from the yard—towel around his neck, water bottle in hand, faintly furrowed brow and a voice that somehow always sounded like it was five minutes from dragging someone by the collar.

“She’s been oglin’ us,” Atsumu said gleefully.

(Y/n) bristled. “I HAVE NOT—”

Suna twirled his glass between his fingers like a fine wine. “She has. She's a closeted pervert."

Osamu raised a brow, turning to glance at her—really glance. His eyes flicked from the way she was half-curled on the chair, to her burning cheeks, to her wildly defensive expression. His mouth quirked.

“Ah,” he said mildly. “So that’s why I felt eyes burnin’ into my back. Or was it my chest? Abs?”

“I hate all of you,” she muttered.

That was when it happened. The unholy alliance.

Atsumu and Osamu exchanged a glance—brief, wordless, deadly.

Twin telepathy.

And just like that, they moved in. One on each side. Like predators scenting blood.

(Y/n) blinked. “What—?"

Atsumu leaned down on her left, arm braced behind her chair, golden skin still glistening from the sun.

Osamu mirrored him on the right, towel draped lazily around his shoulders, bottle of water dangling from his fingers.

“Ya like this, sweetheart?” Atsumu murmured.

“Yer lookin’ a little flushed,” Osamu added smoothly.

(Y/n) was actively dying. Palms sweaty. Heart racing. Brain spiralling. She could barely breathe—and she was no longer even outside.

This was a coordinated attack. A planned execution.

It was rare for the twins to agree on anything. They thrived on bickering, on chaos, on contradicting each other at every turn.

But when they did team up?

It was borderline lethal.

“Don’t you two have something heavy to go lift?” she managed to croak.

Atsumu smirked. “Thought you liked watchin’.”

“I’ll throw this tea at you,” she warned.

Osamu tilted his head. “Seems like a waste of good tea.”

(Y/n) groaned and dropped her face into her hands again. “I prefer it when you guys are arguing.”

Suna snickered under his breath, but everyone caught his next words:

"Bet you'd prefer it if they did something else."

Atsumu barked a laugh at the insinuation.

Osamu groaned and swatted at him with the towel. “Don’t make it weird."

(Y/n) didn’t dare look at any of them. She folded her arms on the table and buried her face like a horny ostrich.

Did that stop her from feeling Atsumu’s hot breath at the back of her neck?

No. No it did not.

“Maybe if ya ask nicely…” he murmured.

Her mind went rampant.

Curse Suna for throwing her under the bus.

Curse the twins and their stupid muscles and their criminally good genes.

Curse this house for being the most cursed and blessed thing to have ever happened to her.

And curse her, most of all—for loving every second of it.

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w2mini · 4 months ago

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“Inarizaki with a manager who…” randoms !!

warnings: reader is reserved, fem reader, swearing, platonic or romantic idgaf

IDK bout’ you guys, but every time I think about Inarizaki having a manager, I think about someone who:

Is stereotyped as your typical “quiet” and “reserved” demeanor girlie when in actuality—she just finds herself in a difficult position to open up to the boys. 😓

- I mean, who wouldn’t have a hard time, they’re like top two in the nation and HIGHKEY intimidating to be with, I have respect 4u girl. 🫡 but a job is a job. Kita recruited you since he had to balance his club and academics at one point (also following the coach’s suggestion).

Also should I just mention that you are such a beauty??? Like, maybe if you weren’t so pretty and mysterious then they wouldn’t be bothering you so much just to talk with you!! 😾

- Suna tries to small talk with you sometimes, keyword: tries (his way of trying is giving you the most unnoticeable hints that he wants to talk with you).

- Whenever you begin to feel tired during a long day in practice, Osamu won’t just let it slip past him and hands you some of his mint candy that he has to help you stay awake as he suggests. Yall chill like that🤞

- You and Kita are the ones who are always together, since you guys discuss about the team’s schedule and strategies alongside coach. But that’s just about it.

- Aran and Omimi tends to help you with your duties, especially if it requires lifting heavy weight or a lot of items to carry. We love gentlemen. 🫡

- Riseki is TOO shy to chat with you, but he’s trying his best I swear. 🥲 Your glamorous self just makes him feel like standing beside you feel like a huge offense.

- The closest (🤏) I would consider to be close to you is proably Akagi and Ginjima, they were the ones who approached you with a warm welcome and introduced you to the team as they showed you the ropes of being a manager.

As for Atsumu? I’m gonna need a whole separate section for him hol’ on.

- How do I even start with him.

- Because for the first time, he doesn’t attract your attention, he’s chasing for it.

- You’re supposed to praise him! fangirl over him! shower him with your undying attention! Not just awkwardly standing there and nodding every now and then! 😾

- Can’t you see how hurt his pride is. 😞 (his fault for expecting too much tbh 😹)

- His last straw was during when he was practicing his sets and you were there to watch. So when you approached him, he was expecting the words: “wow you’re amazing Atsumu!”

- Your response?

- “Miya you should probably extend your arms further more so you have better accuracy on the ball.”

- his jaw dropped to the floor.

- YOU? THE MANAGER? giving him TIPS?

- and what’s worst is that you were right and it genuinely improved his sets slightly better, oh he’s never forgetting about this.

But even after all that, you genuinely just could not bring yourself to be close and open up to them, your reason? a lot.

- The volleyball team of Inarizaki is undeniably well known around the campus and to be their manager is either a curse or a blessing.

- actually scrap that. It’s a fucking curse.

- number one. the top on the damn list. their fangirls.

- the amount of them that question you about the team is just too much for your poor social battery to handle. You were their victim number one to harass about the team. (props to Aran for always saving you during times like these 🙂‍↕️)

- which is also why you have a set of rules to yourself whenever you encounter one of the members in the campus: 1) walk quickly past them in the hallways, 2) only talk to them when they initiate it first, and 3) to never bring up anything about them around the campus.

- number two would be the team itself. why? very self explanatory. 😊

- you do not get an ounce of peace and rest around those guys. Especially Atsumu’s endless cycle of jokes and teasing just to get a reaction out of you.

- and that one time Osamu accidentally served a ball towards you. You were on the tribunes just taking notes. WHO SERVES AT THE TRIBUNES.

- but its okay, he bought you a snack as an apology after that on the convenience store run on the way home. His motherfucker of a twin however just laughed at you like a maniac.

- also the amount of strays you have to pick up during practice is EXHAUSTING. Being their manager made your spine feel like 85 years old.

However, you are genuinely such a hardworking girlie🥹 your actions spoke louder than words, it’s just your way of showing you care for them but sometimes you just don’t feel like it’s enough and you don’t think they notice it either because of how reserved you could be.

- Inarizaki’s volleyball team was independent, they didn’t need a manager.

- which is what they think.

- because ever since you arrived, Kita has felt a heavy weight lift off his shoulders (++ coach too). You’ve genuinely helped them in ways that you didn’t deem possible

- you also took notes of the smallest things or even the quiet observations about the team on your notebook (e.g. “Make sure Atsumu doesn’t forget about his water” or “Osamu gets grumpy if he skips meals” etc.)

- Although they may not be vocal about it or have mentioned about it—the team just has so much respect for you. To be able to manage a team like them is impressive. They don’t think anyone would be able to top your managing skills EVER.

So yeah, it kinda just went on like that… not for long. You strictly kept a classmate relationship between them and just went on being their manager—you do your job, but you kept a distance. That is until Inarizaki gets their win against another strong team.

It wasn’t anything serious or sad with what became the turning point in your relationship with the team, I’d say its very Inarizaki like.

- It happened when Inarizaki won against a really strong team, the game was fierce and stressful to watch, but in the end they were able to snatch the gold.

- Undeniably, the boys are all hyped. “We should celebrate! C’mon let’s go out to eat!” Akagi says as he excitedly suggested.

- the others agreed with the idea, especially a certain twin. On the way, they all discussed their orders and plans for later. In the end they all decided to go for ramen.

- You on the other hand kept silent. You decided it was best for you to go home already and let them have their fun, your social battery was draining anyways.

- which COULD’VE been the plan.

- Until Kita turns around to your direction, then offhandedly says: “You’re coming too right?”

- your brain short circuits.

- it doesn’t help with the fact now that the rest is also waiting for your answer.

- is this what they call peer pressure. 😵‍💫

- but it was in this moment that you realize that—they actually want you to be there. Not just as their manager, but as part of the team.

- So you agreed.

- It was a warm moment when you guys were inside the ramen bar, everyone made an effort to include you, making stupid jokes, teasing you slightly, sharing food, etc.

- And, probably for the first time ever, you were laughing with them.

- And, they all just. froze.

- Because they rarely saw you express emotions around them. Heck, not even a laugh!

- They all glanced at each other and nodded, yep, it was like they had antennas saying their common goal: to see you smile more.

In the end, Inarizaki needs a manager who can handle their shit—and love them anyway.

WOOO kinda short but hope u guys enjoyed, I just kinda wanted to share my thoughts BECAUSE every time I write about Inarizaki having a manager, I always imagine someone who’s just keeps to herself yk, but thas js me🤷‍♀️ Thats why I chose Haerin for today’s layout because the personality matches her sm lowk omg

I kinda wanna make this a series tbh, LIKE that one shiratorizawa series in Ao3 I FORGOT THE NAME but you guys know right….. right.

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usedpidemo · 7 months ago

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Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)

“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”

You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.

She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.”

Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.

You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.

—————

The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.

Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most.

She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.

So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer.

(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.

It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)

The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.

Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?

Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership.

Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven.

Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.

Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded.

It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.

Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.

“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”

Her words ring through your head.

If not now, then when?

The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.

You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.

It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said.

The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.

During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.

Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.

Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras.

Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.

Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.

She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters.

“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”

“Stop.”

You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip.

Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed.

But for what?

“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot.

Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”

You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.

What more do you have to lose?

This will all be behind you soon enough.

You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”

Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.

“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.

You’ve really got no other choice.

“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone.

Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be.

“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.

“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.

“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.

It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.

But she would love to hear it straight from the source.

“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you.

Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.

“Love you—Hyem, please—”

Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.

She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.

“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”

Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.

Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.

And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.

“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind.

You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent.

Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.

None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—

“Stop.”

You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away.

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?”

Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”

The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”

She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of.

Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display. Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you.

Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.

“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you.

“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.

And you’re only getting started.

Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.

She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.

You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her.

It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.

You mutter the very words against her skin.

“If not now, then when.”

They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.

Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.

“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”

You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.

Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied.

It ends up being your biggest mistake.

Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later.

From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.

Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.

To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.

Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized.

And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.

“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”

She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”

“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”

Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television.

Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.

“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.

“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”

A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many.

Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.

“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”

She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.

Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you.

It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful.

It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake.

“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”

Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”

She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.

As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive.

You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”

You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too.

As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.

With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.

And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest.

So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.

“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.

And you’re going to do just that.

You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.

“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.

Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one.

Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength.

The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.

You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.

And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired.

By all accounts, it should be a happy ending.

Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.

Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.

The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower.

Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise.

With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself.

Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.

Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.

You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.

You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.

“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second.

Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.

The tattoo on her rib.

Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can.

With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom.

You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.

—————

“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”

It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.

At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”

She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”

You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh.

Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing.

“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”

“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.”

Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.

She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”

You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.

“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”

“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”

She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.

But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.

Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, but—” she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”

You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”

She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Check your phone.”

After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well.

Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention.

Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.

Some jokes can go a little too far.

“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”

“Yep.”

“And it’s not—”

“It’s not.”

You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.

“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”

“No better way to go out.”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #izone smut #hyewon smut #izone #hyewon

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circeyoru · 27 days ago

Text

Inhumans Among Humans _ Part 1: Long Desired Companions

[Sung Jinwoo x Alter AU Shadow Monarch Female!Reader - Romantic | Monarch Change AU] Request Base ― Teaser/Prologue ― Part 1 (here)

“This isn’t… I want… I want to live too…! Why can you all live while I die? Why must I die for you to live? If I can choose… I chose me!”

After waking up from the disastrous Double Dungeon Incident, there was one change that turned your life around. You had woken up to a screen painstakingly close to your face that welcomed you to some program to become strong. You thought you were dreaming and gave it a try, only to find that you weren’t dreaming at all. First up, these screens were only visible to you. Secondly, these screens interact with you as if it was sentient. Thirdly, these screens actually work. By that…

You cut down another wolf and swung your sword to remove its blood from the blade, and an exhale escaped from your lips as you stared at the fallen pack before you. Words of congratulations and notifications of your level-up popped up beside you.

You meant that it actually made you stronger than ever. Once you were an E-Rank that was mocked by the world as the weakest and you could never imagine tanking a dungeon alone. Now though, with this newfound strength you gained, you managed to clear the dungeons provided by the screens. All thanks to the mysterious screens that entered your life from that point onwards.

At a certain point, you started to call it ‘System’ and it responded in kind. Ironically, it acted more like a doting family member than what you had now, or friends who would joke and help you at times of need.

! ALARM [YOU ARE ADVISED TO TAKE THE <JOB CHANGE QUEST>.]

“Aw, but I wanted to be more prepared, you know?” You looked away as you collected the loot you gained from the defeated monsters.

[YOU HAVE BEEN PUSHING THIS QUEST BACK FOR TOO LONG.]

[OVERQUALIFICATION WILL HINDER YOUR GROWTH.]

You pouted and eyed your status window. Each stat was well over 100, and your weakest was vitality, then strength, since you prioritized your agility and sense over all five stats. Now you’re questioning if you should invest more in strength.

[YOU ARE ADVISED TO TAKE THE <JOB CHANGE QUEST> NOW!]

“Ahh! Fine! If I die, it’s your fault, System!”

! ALARM [YOU CANNOT LEAVE THIS DUNGEON UNTIL YOU HAVE CLEARED IT.]

! ALARM [IN THIS AREA, YOUR POTION AND SHOP ABILITY IS RESTRICTED. ON LEVEL UP, YOU DO NOT RECEIVE STATUS HEALING.]

! ALARM [ITEMS SAVED IN YOUR INVENTORY CAN BE USED.]

The moment you finished reading the messages from the System, the battle had begun. You were ambushed from everywhere, removing your ability to hide in the shadows and assess before acting. At first, you were flustered, but you soon got the hang of it as you changed from long-range attack to melee combat. While your raw power left much to be desired, your overpreparations made up for what you lacked. Had you actually taken the quest when you first got it at level 40, you would have struggled immensely, but now you were level 50. It was a cheat, but then… Life’s not fair.

You hummed happily as you picked up the rewards from the fallen knights and animals, equipping yourself with gears and accessories that boosted your stats. The plus side was that they turned invisible after you wore them, and they weren’t even touchable, so there was no hindrance at all. Not to mention, you look pretty stupid if someone could see them on your form.

That wasn’t the main point. You have yet to face a challenge that would be considered as such. Your mind thought back to the System’s nagging and sweatdropped; perhaps you should have listened earlier on. You stopped before a gigantic pair of doors, an ominous aura creeping through the narrow cracks. You took a deep breath and exhaled with your eyes closed. It was a routine action of yours, but one that got you into the zone as you saw it. As childish as it may be, you called your other self that was perfect for dungeon fights above you.

When your eyes opened, your gaze sharpened, and the previous carefree aura you had was gone like a candle flame blown out by the wind. You took out your twin daggers from your inventory and swiftly kicked open the doors, you slipped in through the gap and surveyed your surroundings. Flames atop the pillar lit up one by one, illuminating the giant hall. You quickly ran up the pillar and kicked away the plate with a flame, you watched from a bird’s eye view. There was an empty throne at the end of the room, no enemy in sight.

A chill ran down your spine when you heard clanking metal before you saw it. A knight dressed from head to toe in red armour, a window displayed overhead in red reading [Knight Commander: Igris the Bloodred]. Even with your level raised to 50, this enemy was still red, meaning the odds weren’t in your favour.

Immediately, you switched weapons to your infinite quiver and bow. Just as you drew an arrow to fire, Igris moved at lightning speed. In a panic, you fired, only grazing the side of his helmet instead of the eyes you aimed for. The pillar you were perched on was cut through like butter and proceeded to collapse on you. You jumped to the next pillar, in midair, you turned to fire again at his eyes but this time he blocked it with his sword.

How is he that fast?! The second your feet touched the pillar, Igris had already cut through it again. You didn’t get a moment to boost yourself to another pillar and started to fall. Igris met you halfway and swiped his sword directly at you. You had used your bow to defeat yourself with its [Shield] effect but you were still knocked back into the wall. You coughed and fell to the ground, you looked behind you to find a crater created where you landed on the wall. Weakly, you looked back at your enemy. You knew this wasn’t a fight you could easily win. You couldn’t fight with hand-to-hand combat, it was impossible. Or is it?

You put away your quiver and bow. Instead, you took out two pieces of clothing to tie around your hands. If you could destroy his sword, that would— Huh? You watched in mild confusion as Igris discarded his long sword, even the daggers behind his back. You gulped, this was an enemy that could switch techniques mid-battle?!

There was no time to think as you immediately went into for a punch while Igris appeared to be still shifting gears. You were dead wrong as Igris punched you in the gut, well, he would have if your agility was low. You darted to the side and then behind him, kicking him in the back to make him stumble. There was barely one with his larger form, but you continued the assault. The only weakness you could find was his head, particularly his eyes. Though he must have know where you were targeting since every time you were anywhere close to his head, he’d knock you far away.

What you needed was to limit his movements.

In secret, you wore your clawed metallic fingertip caps and nimbly went from pillar to pillar. It didn’t matter if Igris was destroying them or not, but you just needed him to follow you while you laid the groundwork for your trap. From time to time, you had to avoid his grip that would attempt to grab your ankle as you gained higher ground, so you weren’t swung into the wall. It was more complicated than you’d like since your fatigue meter was increasing bit by bit.

“Ha…” You stopped at the center of the raised platform to admire your work at play. Igris was now immobilized, the thread glistening under the flickering flames. Steel threads, a weapon that strengthened with each snap. You had continuously broken it so that it could come back stronger and stronger, it took a while but now it was unbreakable. Not wasting anytime, you pulled on the threads and they constricted him until eventually they cut through his armour and turned him into pieces of metal.

You collapsed on the throne behind you with a sigh and leaned your head on the back of the throne. If you hadn’t taken this as you were now… You might have died. Now you knew you needed to focus on your [Strength] stats. If your weapons weren’t right and you lacked raw power… You would have died. Period. You glanced back at Igris’ fallen form. This time, you won by sheer luck, it was a mere fluke.

! ALARM [YOU LEVELLED UP!] [YOU LEVELLED UP!]

[RED KNIGHT’S HELMET] [DOMINATOR’S TOUCH] [LEATHER POUCH] [HEARTHSTONE] HAVE BEEN OBTAINED.

[THE JOB CHANGE QUEST WILL BEGIN.]

“What!? But, System, I haven’t checked my rewards!!!” You flinched at the notice. Within seconds, several dark swirling vortexes appeared around you and the fallen knight commander. You glanced back at Igris and then the vortexes, “Don’t tell… Knights are going to come out any second…”

[THE LONGER YOU LAST, THE MORE POINTS YOU CAN COLLECT THAT WILL PLACE YOU INTO A HIGHER-TIER JOB.]

[00:00:00]

[GOOD LUCK.]

“Points…” You eyed the voxtexes and immediately wore your gloves with metallic clawed fingertip caps. Threads came out from the clawed tips and surrounded each vortex like a spider web.

[EVEN THOUGH YOU MIGHT NOT NEED IT.]

As you suspected, knights walked out of the vortexes and immediately walked right into the steel web you had set up. The first few had their armour cut into shreds. The others halted and those with shields came forward to try and overpower the threads, only to be cut as well. You let out a small grin, the threads may look weak and fragile, and they were when you first got them. Though that’s not what they are now.

“Hold still a bit while I get back my rewards, please.” You hummed as you glared at thin air. Sure enough, the window screens of your rewards came back.

[ITEM: LEATHER POUCH] HAS BEEN OPENED. - YOU HAVE RECEIVED [1,500,000,000 GOLD].

[TOTAL: 4,829,572,924G]

“If only this can be used in my daily life as well… Then I wouldn’t have to be making camp in the forest…” You looked to the side. “Then again… It’s hard to afford for an apartment…”

[ITEM: RED KNIGHT’S HELMET] ITEM CLASS: S TYPE: ARMOUR +15% PHYSICAL DAMAGE REDUCTION +20 STAMINA, +20 STRENGTH

“Help me wear it, System~~” You chimed at the window screen, your fingers twitched and wiggled to emphasise your point. “My hands are a bit tied up at the moment, thanks!” While that was going on for you, you weren’t aware that your slight movements sliced up a few knights crowded at your threads.

[RUNE STONE: DOMINATOR’S TOUCH] TYPE: RUNE STONE - A SKILL CAN BE OBTAINED BY BREAKING THE RUNE.

“Oh, drop the stone at the threads! It’ll break that way, right?” You jumped at the chance to gain another skill, its name touches ominous vibes, but also an empowering title all the same, so you were eager to have it. You watched as the rune stone was dropped onto your threads and broke. Immediately, you felt something within you and read the new screen.

[SKILL: DOMINATOR’S TOUCH LV.1] ACTIVE SKILL NO MANA REQUIRED - YOU CAN CONTROL OBJECTS WITHOUT TOUCHING THEM.

“So… Telekinese… Basically.” Your head tilted at the description. The no mana part was something you keyed in on since you didn’t have to watch your mana, using this skill would be very useful in battle. If your guess is correct, you’ll have to level it up to move objects bigger and heavier. “Alright, last one.”

[ITEM: HEARTSTONE] TYPE: CONSUMABLE - A QUEST-EXCLUSIVE ITEM. IF YOU BREAK THE HEARTHSTONE, YOU WILL INSTANTLY LEAVE THE DUNGEON. IF THE JOB QUEST ENDS, THE DUNGEON IS AUTOMATICALLY DESTROYED. CANNOT BE STORED.

“What?!” You watched in slow motion as the stone was dropped from thin air. If it drops and breaks, your quest ends! You immediately discarded the hold on one of your hands that controlled the threads to activate {Dominator’s Touch}, catching it before it could touch the ground and break in any way. “Why can’t it be stored?!”

The knights came at you with the threads gone from their vortex entrance. You placed the stone in your pocket for safekeeping before trying to reinstate your threads again. However, their distance was too close, and you couldn’t pull on them for the same effect. You abandoned your plan and ran at them, exchanging your gloves for daggers as you swiped at them any chance you got until you made it to the walls and ran up. You stabbed the daggers into the walls to serve as your footholds, and you pulled out your bow and quiver of arrows, shooting at any that came close to you.

The unusual aspect of this situation was the absence of a level-up notification. While the healing after levelling up would be restricted, the level-up function was still active since you had levelled up after defeating the knight commander. You observed the crowded knights and spotted a few clothed figures that were set apart from the knights. Why haven’t the mage been attacking you now or when the threads were still present? Were their magic that weak or…

“Summons.” You aimed an arrow at one and they disintegrated into nothingness, leaving only a pendant and their cloak behind. A number of knight armours broke down and fell to the ground in pieces.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

[SKILL: ‘DEAD SHOT’ HAS BEEN LEARNED.]

“That’s confirmation enough.” You took out more arrows and aimed. The vortexes are the mages’ spell, the knights are the summons that continuously come out of them as long as the vortex’s active with the mage’s survivability. Kill the root of the cause, kill the knights.

[EFFECT: ‘BIRD’S EYE VIEW’ HAS ACTIVATED.]

A holographic eyeglass appeared over your dominant eye as a clear view of the crowd came into view, the view moved as it followed your line of sight. So you searched for the cloaked hooded figures within the crowd. There are five mages remaining, so you have five targets. You let your arrows fly, but they only hit two of them and the other three had the intelligence to use the knights around them as shields to deflect your arrows.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.] [YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

You moved quickly when the remaining three got together on their knees for what appeared to be some form of larger spell. You abandoned your bow back into your inventory and took your daggers out of the wall as you fell to the ground. You reached out your hand and curled your fingers inwards to your palm. Using {Dominator’s Touch}, you grabbed onto the neck of one of the mages and and squeezed it tight until the notification popped up.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

Though the spell was completed. The remains of the fallen knights merged together as a neon purple glow turned them into a larger and stronger form as a golem that towered over everything in the room. It stomped its feet at you as if trying to crush a bug, but with your agility, you were far superior in speed. Merging the knights wasn’t a smart move since you had more space to act. You used {Dominator’s Touch} to give yourself a boost as you dragged yourself right into the magicians’ summoning party. You slashed your daggers at them and that was game.

[YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.] [YOU HAVE SLAIN A MAGICIAN.]

You turned your head to make sure your enemies were all defeated. The knights all dropped dead to the ground, even the golem collapsed back into the pile of knight armours it once was. You breathed in and out, in and out, catching yourself as you calmed your heartbeat. You glanced to the timer, “Is it over, System?”

[00:29:21]

[ALL THE MONSTERS IN THE ROOM HAVE BEEN SLAIN, THE QUEST WILL END NOW.]

“So hey… I didn’t exactly last a long time… Given that the digits are in hours too, but does that mean I’ll be in a low-ranking job?” You nervously asked your nice companion.

[YOU WILL BE GIVEN A CLASS BASED ON THE PERFORMANCE YOU HAVE GIVEN DURING THE QUEST.]

[A JOB WILL BE GRANTED AFTER THE PLAYER’S ACTIONS HAVE BEEN ANALYSED.] - PLEASE WAIT PATIENTLY.

You hummed as you waited. Your mind replayed what you did. You went straight to the point, analyzed the situation, and acted without delay. You could be placed into an assassin class, a spy, maybe, or a ninja? If there were such a thing available. You don’t see yourself as tank or mage at least. You could understand a ranger with your mastery over the bow and the use of threads, and a fighter since you did rely on your daggers.

[WHEREVER THE PLAYER GOES, THE REAPER FOLLOWS.] [THE PLAYER’S PATH IS LITTERED WITH CORPSES, THE SMELL OF BLOOD, AND CARNAGE.] [AS THE PLAYER POSSESSES STRENGTH, SHE DOES NOT LEAVE ANYTHING TO HER TEAMMATES, AND OVERCOMES EVERYTHING WITH HER OWN STRENGTH AND INTELLIGENCE.] [YOUR DESIRE FOR POWER BURNS STRONG ENOUGH TO CALL THOSE WHO WANDER THE VALLEY OF DEATH, AND THE ARMY OF THE DEAD WHO FOLLOWS YOUR COMMANDS SHALL CREATE A PATH WHERE YOUR WORD WILL BE THE LAW AND YOU WOULD NEVER NEED OUTSIDERS’ HELP AGAIN.]

[YOUR JOB IS “NECROMANCER”.]

“Huh?” You blinked at the windows with their cryptic messages. “Are you sure that’s me? I’m not that scary… Am I?”

[YOU ARE.]

“Hey now…” You chuckled. You stared at the window that displayed your result. A necromancer is a magic sub-class, and while you have increased your [Intelligence] stat to master your various weapons and their unique skills, you don’t focus much on magic. Could it be because of your continuous use of {Dominator’s Touch} during the quest?

A grim magician that summons an army of undead to do their bidding. Wait, summon? You eyed the fallen knights and mages around the room. If you did have companions that helped you like the System, then you could earn more money no problem and make life easier. Plus, these undead should be loyal beings, right? They would be betraying you and follow your commands, they would be practically immortal as well, as long as you were alive.

You really wouldn’t need to rely on another person. You chuckled bitterly and smiled with your eyebrows furrowed. How pathetic. Are you that desperate for companionship that you would take a job like this? To be friends with your own power? You pushed it to the back of your mind. Who had the right to judge or question you. You had been on your own for too long. If being a necromancer was the only way you could surround yourself with trusted beings for your own good, then so be it.

True, you’re not sure about whether the undead you summon would be able to grow stronger, but you could. The stronger you grow, the stronger your summons as logic would point to. In time, you’d be able to clear dungeons alone with relative ease. Either way, you can grow stronger and so can your future companions.

! ALARM [WILL YOU ACCEPT YOUR JOB?] YES NO

“No need to ask, yes.” You smiled.

[YOUR JOB HAS BEEN CHOSEN.]

[BASED ON YOUR PERFORMANCE AND POINTS, YOU WILL BE GIVEN A CHANCE TO PROMOTE TO A SUPERIOR CLASS.]

[YOU HAVE OVERACHIEVED THE EXPECTED PLAY TIME.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[YOU DID NOT USE A HEARTSTONE.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[FINAL HEALTH IS ABOVE 80%.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[ALL ENEMIES HAVE BEEN SLAIN.] [POINTS WILL BE ADDED.]

[THE TOTAL POINTS HAVE EXCEEDED THE FEAT LIMIT.]

[YOU WILL BE PROMOTED FROM ‘NECROMANCER’ TO ‘SHADOW MONARCH’.]

Shadows swirled and came at you, instead of devouring you or overwhelming you, it felt like a blanket over your form. It clung to you and cloaked you with a refreshing chill. Exhale and you could see your breath for a few seconds before it disappeared. “Woah…”

[YOU HAVE LEARNED A JOB-EXCLUSIVE SKILL.]

[YOU HAVE OBTAINED BONUS STATS.]

[YOU HAVE OBTAINED THE TITLE ‘THE ONE WHO OVERCAME ADVERSITY’.]

Your head turned to the screams and cries you heard all around you, your eyes glowed as you spotted the faint shadowy whisps from the knight armoury.

[SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.] [SHADOW EXTRACTION CAN BE USED ON THIS TARGET.]

“So it’s more like turning corpses into summons than randomly summoning stuff…” You remarked aloud after understanding the System’s windows. You blinked and turned to the first and hardest opponent you faced, you skipped over the knight armours to what remains of the knight commander Igris. You only had a hard time when you faced him, if he was your companion…

[PLEASE SELECT YOUR COMMAND PHRASE FOR SHADOW EXTRACTION.]

“Wakey wakey~”

[ARE YOU SURE?]

“....Get up?”

[LAST CHANCE.]

“Fine fine…” You gave up and offered your hand to Igris, your eyes closed briefly before reopening with a purple hue. Like you were possessed by some force or destiny, the word came naturally to you. “Arise.”

Shadows shifted at your word and chilling tone, the black smoke twirled and twisted from the gaps of the armour. The translucent state slowly formed a solid figure you recalled moments ago. Only this time, he wasn’t plated in blood-red armour but pitch-black from head to toe; the only colours were the ponytail at the top of the helmet that flowed down to his back, and between the gaps of his armour were neon blue, even his eyes.

[SHADOW’S LEVEL WILL BE 7.]

[SHADOWS HIGHER THAN RANK KNIGHT CAN BE NAMED.]

“A name…” You hummed at the knight commander, frankly you have no talent for naming and his old name had a ring to it so… “Igris. You are simply Igris now.”

[IGRIS LV.7] RANK: KNIGHT

[YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY EXTRACTED THE SHADOW.]

“Let’s call on other companions to join you. Can’t be a commander without soldiers.” You shifted your attention to the piles of armour. You had more than enough space to extract more Shadows into your army of the dead. You had to thank yourself for waiting a while before doing this quest, since if you had done so when you level and stats were lower, you might be able to accomplish much. “Arise.”

[SHADOW INFANTRY LV.1] RANK: NORMAL

[SHADOW MAGICIAN LV.1] RANK: ELITE

[SHADOWS ABLE TO BE EXTRACTED: 37/50]

[REMINDER: YOU CANNOT RECALL SHADOW SOLDIERS THAT HAVE BEEN SENT TO NOTHINGNESS.]

You smiled at them as they all bowed to you, your eyes glowing blue, “Let’s enjoy our time together, my faithful comrades in arms.”

Note: Now, Jinwoo won't be appearing a while, so don't go asking where is Jinwoo and such in the comments section or my inbox. There's a lot to cover before Jinwoo appears and the story moves on. As polled before, this story is now a romantic one between Jinwoo and Reader, the ending of this story will be before the Jeju Arc, meaning Beru and the JP Hunters onwards won't be appearing in this series. All parts are around this length, around 2800-3000+ words, so it'll take a while to update. Please be patient.

With all that out of the way~ I'm happy to officially kick start this series!!

Guys, please tell me you got the reference near the end!!!! I laughed my head off at those. If you didn’t, shame on you (just kidding). Just check it out below with the links

English VA for Jinwoo Threatens Haters Recording for “Arise” ― Animation Version

Hope you guys like this and won't be too bored since Jinwoo won't be appearing for a while~ Enjoy guys~~

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST *(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @stoats-a-dork @daiyanomochi @snowy-violet @sleepyamaya @thetruepair @aixaingela @weponxwrites @nk1023 @mariajgn-blog1 @floralcharmer @whocaresim18 @yanderelver @soft-dots @genniecokkie @midorimashintaro707 @kazudare @yoonseokerist @kyreahnvae @amayakurusu13 @pokemonaora @misakicchi @e-23-2001 @baleria @nshasy @mysticalwonderlandnacho @solojklins @darkness-of-the-sakura @time-shardz

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling insert #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #Monarch Change AU #shadow monarch #Inhumans Among Humans

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moncesita-te4lblu · 8 months ago

Text

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Characters : Art the Clown (Terrifier), afab!reader

Warning/CW : harscore(ish) smut, incorrect use of a gun, sex toys (vibrator, dildos, anal plug), triple penetration, double penetration, squirting, oral (f! Receiving), gagging, some blood, reader gets carried, hair pulling, some butt stuff (no shit or piss dw), and other things I forgot

A/N : is this long idk (that's what she said), enjoy u freaks, sorry in advance for rushing or spelling mistakes

Art is into some harsh shit. In every way. You already know how he handles his victims. But he's also into harsh shit in bed. You two have already discussed a safe"word" in case he takes something too far. Shake your head three times and times over. That's what you two agreed on.

Now here you are, tired to the bed. You're slumped against the headboard, fully naked, your hands tied behind your back, your legs tied apart. Your calves are pressed against your thighs, then are tied to the legs of the bed, forcing them apart. Apart enough to be uncomfortable a little, but not painful.

Art grabs some "toys" from the nightstand drawer, placing it next to you, just like he does when he's getting ready to torture someone; laying out the weapons in front of them as they're tied up, helpless. He sets out the toys on the bed but sets out some items on the floor, out of your sight. You feel yourself getting wetter as you look down at Arts display, imaging him using them on you.

Art happily walks to the bed and sits in front of your open legs. He grabs the dildo next to you first, pressing it against your lips. You open your mouth and he shoves as much as he can down your throat, making you gag a couple times as he lets it sit there. He pulls it out, and pressed it against your bare pussy; massaging your clit with it for a second before he fully puts it into you. You let out a moan. Art uses his fingers to keep the plastic dick inside you, pressing into the bottom of the base.

He takes a vibrator from next to you, instantly turning it on the highest sitting and pressing it against your clit. You yelp out a moan and Art grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you. He uses one hand to keep the vibrator against you, the other one starting to thrust the dildo in and out of you, fast. You throw your head back and moan more, Art responding by moving the vibrator up at down your clit, continuing his fast pace with the dildo.

You squirm around in the rope, Art not slowing down. He continues his pace until you moan out that you're cumming, pressing the plastic dick fully inside you and the vibrator still against your clit, on the same high setting. You reach your climax and eventually Art pulls the dildo out and turns off the vibrator. Art bends down and licks your pussy, making out with it for a bit before he gets back up. He bunches his fingers together, kissing his fingertips cartoonishly, silently saying "delicious!".

Art grabs an anal plug, putting the plug in his mouth for a second and taking it out with a "pop" sound (it's clean ya nasties). He- surprisingly gentle- puts it into your ass and pats your thigh encouragingly.

He looks at the mysterious items on the floor, and he looks up at you with a huge, almost sinister, grin on his face. Art reaches down, grabbing a... gun. You look more confused than scared. Art opens the gun, showing you there's no bullets, shooting it a couple times to prove it too. You're panting, silently questioning him. He puts the safety on so it won't shoot, loaded or not, and grins up at you. He teases your pussy with the gun, nudging your clit with it. You let out a soft moan, not questioning the gun anymore. Art pushes the long end of the gun into you and you moan again.

Art wasn't going as fast on the gun as he did with the dildo, put he wasn't going slow, persay. Art never goes slow. Or nice. Art goes to lay on stomach, giving your clit a kiss. His lips wrap around it, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking on it as he fucks you with his gun. He grinds his clothed dick against the bed as he looks up at you, with an almost animalistic look in his eyes.

He starts thrusting the gun in and out if you faster. You moan louder and throw your head back. You feel the vibrations of a groan on your clit, though you couldn't hear the groan, and your thighs shake. You buck your hips against him as you get closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night. After a while, you cum on the gun. Art stop grinding against the bed and pulls the gun out of you, sitting up again and inspecting your juices on the gun. He licks up the mess on the metal, maintaining eye contact with you. And it did turn you on more watching that.

Art puts the gun back down and shoves two fingers into your pussy, curling his fingers up and moving his fingers at a fast pace- the fastest he's been so far. You yell out a moan and your legs shake as you squirt all over Arts fingers, wrist, arm, and bedsheets. He pulls his fingers out and shoves them down your throat, making you drink your own juices and gag on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and slaps you across the face and you bite your lip.

"That all you got?" You ask shakingly. His eyes become daring and he slaps you on the opposite cheek, harder than the first. Your lip starts bleeding and you look up to him, dazed. Art grabs your chin, looking at the wound on your lip. He watches the blood run from your lip to your chin and onto his hand. He licks up your chin, to your lips. He kisses you feverishly, and roughly.

As you two kiss, Art undos the rope holding your legs apart. Once your legs are free, Art pulls away from the kiss and flips you over. Your hands are still tied behind your back, your face in a pillow, and your ass in the air. Art undresses himself. He pulls out your anal plug and sets it with the rest of the toys on the side. Art picks up another dildo, a little short than the last one, and shoves it in your pussy. He moves it a couple times while it's inside, then pulls it out. Art presses the now wet dildo up to your asshole and push it inside, slowly.

You moan, and pant when it's fully inside. Art grabs your asscheek with one hand, his thumb keeping the dildo in place- inside. He uses his other hand to guide his dick into your pussy. You moan, muffled a bit because of the pillow your face is in, when he's fully inside. Art grips onto your hips with both hands and he starts a brutal, harsh pace- the harshest he's been all night. Your hands are still tied behind your back, your hands gripping onto the rope tightly. You sob out moans as he moves against you, your eyes rolling back.

Art grips onto your ass, massaging it and spanking it every once in a while. Art reaches over and grabs the other- bigger- dildo. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pull your head back harshly, your loud, desperate moans being very audible now. With his other hand, he shoves the dildo down your throat, moving it in and out in a fast pace. You gag and moan, tears streaming down your face, drool down your chin.

After a while, you cum again, and Art pulls the dildo away from your mouth as you moan loudly, though the thrusts of his own dick inside you never falters. Once you calm down a bit from your orgasm, Art shoves the dildo right back down your throat, face fucking you with it. Your hands grip onto the rope tying them together until your knuckles turn white.

Your legs shake and you keep gagging on the plastic dick Art keeps shoving into your mouth, drool spilling and pooling under you, onto the pillow. Your face is red and there's a bit of dry blood smudged on your lower lip. All the while, Art looks down at you with his usual sinister grin, his shoulders moving in a silent laugh when you get louder or gag.

Suddenly, Art pulls the dildo out of your mouth, setting it to the side. He grabs onto your hips with both hands and go harder than he was going before. You scream out a moan and a couple curses, making him silently laugh at you as he continues. He smacks your ass a couple times before he fully presses against your ass, cumming inside you. At the feeling, you orgasm again, this time less violent and spratic as the other few times.

Art stays inside, not moving, just listening to your pants and whimpers. "Kiss?" You pant out. Art nods and leans forward, kissing you gently on the lips. Finally, he pulls away and pulls his dick out of you, looking at the mess between your legs. You gently takes the dildo out of your ass and you body finally relaxes. Your knees give out and you lay fully on your stomach, your arms still tied behind your back.

Art unties you and flips you over so your laying on your back. He gives you a questioning look and a thumbs up, then thumbs down, asking you if you're ok. You smile and nod up at him, giving him a thumbs up. He leans down and kisses you before getting up, putting on some clothes, and grabbing everything he put inside you that night. He hold up a finger, telling you to wait a minute, and he walks out of the room. He comes back a couple minutes later, everything he was holding now cleaned and dried- included the gun. You watch as he puts every toy back into the drawer on the nightstand.

He stands up, cracking his back. Art looks over to your tired, fucked out state. Your face red, hair messed up, blood on your lower lip, dried up tears and drool on your face, rope marks on your arms and legs and your body shaking. He grins a little at the mess he made, but quickly wipes it off his face and goes to carry you, bridal style. Art carries you to the bathroom, carefully placing you on the toilet. He gives you another questioning look and a thumbs up. You give a thumbs up back.

He hops onto the counter next to you. After what you two just did you couldn't give half a fuck that he sits there while you pee. You tell him to look away while you wipe and he does. You close the lid and flush and Art hops off the counter and carries you to bed. He lays down with you, you two snuggling and clinging onto eachother. You fall asleep, feeling safe in his arms. The safest anyone has ever felt in his arms.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

I TYPED HALF THIS SHIT OUT AT NIGHT AND WOKE UP AND FINISHED IT AND WHAT I WROTE TODAY DIDNT SAVEEEEEEE

I HAD TO REWRITE TS

#fanfics #x reader #female reader #gn reader #smut #terrifer 3 #terrifier 2 #terrifier #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #art the clown

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akisteahouse · 1 month ago

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Thinking about introducing the dorms to spotify…

Synopsis: after getting isekaied into Twisted Wonderland, the only item left in your possession is your phone - great! you can call for help! nvm - every other app except spotify isn’t working. but hey, at least you get to share some stuff from your world with your new friends, right?

Featuring: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia,,,,

Warnings: gn!reader, reader is prefect, reader is implied to have spotify before arriving in twisted wonderland, specific artists are mentioned, reader is cool with multiple people sharing their spotify acc

Heartslabyul!

this probably happens at one of the many unbirthday parties you get invited to after Riddle’s overblot.

freshly baked and frosted cakes are getting sliced, the tea is just right, and the roses are all painted ruby red.

so, all you need now is some nice music to liven things up - hence, appropriately opting for Short n’ Sweet by Sabrina Carpenter.

this is a grave mistake.

for starters, the album isn’t exactly PG.

you can see Ace snickering at a few lines, Trey hiding his laughter slightly better but not really, Cater gushing about how Magicammable the music is, Deuce’s ears flushing pink whenever Sabrina says something that simply can’t fly past his head.

oh, and Riddle?

he may have been a sheltered child, but he most definitely knows what Juno means. (probably through overhearing his mother say atrocious things about teen pregnancy, but still.)

so combine that word + position? his face is practically burning red, flushed all the way from his neck to his hairline.

unfortunately for you, you don’t get to play any more music for unbirthday parties. :(

unfortunately for Heartslabyul, Cater convinces you to share your spotify with him, and performs some black magic trickery(internet blackmail)to get Idia to create a one-to-one copy of spotify on his phone.

congrats! now Cay Cay’s got full control of your world’s music! I don’t see how this could go wrong!

did I mention that Cater’s a repeat listener? like the type to listen to the same song for hours on end? and probably likes to blast his music?

no one is spared.

Trey’s baking? cool, let him play some songs that totally fit the vibe! (just searches up ‘songs to bake to’ on spotify and ignores Trey’s look of horror when Cake By The Ocean starts playing.) Riddle’s studying? nice, let’s listen to some lyricless music to help him focus! (which does sound promising at first, only for Cater to stumble upon the Undertale soundtrack. Megalovania is played on repeat twelve times. Riddle is about to burst a vessel.) Ace and Deuce get into trouble? sweet, he has a full sound board for that! (it’s just a sound board with stupid sound effects he plays <\333)

Adeuce practically runs to you to beg for you to change your spotify password, but to no avail - they even try to bribe you with food from Trey, but that doesn’t work either.

Riddle can’t really do anything about it either, ‘cause there are no rules opposing this. you don’t need to check. he’s memorised all eight hundred and ten.

but hey, at least they’re not completely ruined - in fact, a few good things has come out of this.

for starters, Riddle has gotten from listening to some classical music from your world to full on punk, now! (you don’t really know where he discovered it, but he seems calmer recently, so oh well!)

Trey has discovered his affection towards true crime! (yeah you don’t really know where he started listening to those either don’t question it) It really does come in handy whenever he has to bake for long periods of time.

Ace and Deuce get way too invested in Weezer for a bit. (another mystery. things escalate when they try to get some of the first years to do their album cover poses for a photo unironically.)

how Cater convinced Idia to install the app on the others phones will forever be shrouded in secrecy.

yay you now have six people sharing one spotify account! this action will have consequences.

Savanaclaw!

similar to Heartslabyul, the first instance of you using spotify is when you decide to abuse it during book 3 to get Leona’s lazy ass to help you.

and so, you play the most grating, eardrum shattering, migraine inducing song you can humanly think of - baby shark on loop for an hour.

things go over well because Leona folds after twenty minutes and seven death threats - hooray!!!

afterwards, you don’t really use spotify much.

Leona thinks of it as the noise making app, Jack has his own PoisonPod, Ruggie’s always been more of an ambient noise kinda guy…

until Ruggie walks up to you one fine day, asking for a favour. Oh?

turns out when you blasted the-song-that-shall-not-be-named woke Leona up faster than Ruggie’s ever been able to, and you still owe him for that time he snagged you a sandwich during lunch rush, so if you could just hand other your password, shyheehee…

since then, every morning for Leona is an absolute nightmare.

It got even worse when Cheka, that insufferable little fur ball, somehow learnt the song and begged him to sing it. (Leona caved to get Cheka to shut it. It didn’t work because Cheka ended up begging him to sing it for a second time. Then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth. Suffice to say Leona wasn’t very happy.)

Ruggie can and will abuse your free spotify subscription to its fullest - also somehow getting it on his worn out phone(though thievery or bullying Idia with social interaction, I bet).

listens to those saving money and food podcasts while working, opting for someone like Odetari to listen to during warm-ups for spelldrive.

at some point, Leona just walks up to you, brows furrowed, staring you down, before asking “how much?” (To change your spotify password because he can’t take it anymore <\333)

you end up giving it to him but he can’t change it because he needs to verify it with your email, and that sounds like too much effort.

gets you spotify premium instead.

only ever listens to lo-fi.

tried to listen to something else for once but found it too noisy and switched back.

also k.k. slider, for some reason???

just know his favourite song is k.k. lullaby.

Jack is the last person to use your spotify, after much raving from Ace and Deuce. Admittedly, he’s pretty curious.

listens to those motivational podcasts - y’know the ones with titles like ‘Five ways You’re Holding Yourself Back In Daily Life’ yes those. Quotes them and everything.

music wise, I don’t really think Jack’s much of a music enjoyer, but he can appreciate some Fall Out Boy from time to time.

(they all probably scared the shit outta my poor boy Idia asking him to install spotify on their phones.)

wow you now have eight people sharing one account! ahahahahahahahahaha are you feeling it yet?

Octavinelle!

probably would happen in book 4, after you run to the lounge after being held hostage in Scarbia for a bit.

listening to music with the shitty wire earbuds you bought at Sam’s Mystery shop while walking to Scarbia when the Tweels come to badger you.

Floyd legit just rips one earbud off and grins.

“Whatcha’ listening to, shrimpy?”

jams it into his own ear and walks along, while Jade just gives you the most polite shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen in your life next to you. Asshole.

Floyd basically demands you to give him your spotify password, which wouldn’t really be a problem if he didn’t ask for it mid-fight with OB! Jamil. Azul was not pleased.

is the most inconsistent with his music on this list.

like seriously, he could go from metal to pop to break beat to rap in less than an hour.

(how did he even get into so many genres… did he listen to the others playlists?)

plus, he’s made at least forty different playlists by now, which has garnered multiple complaints from the other members abusing using your spotify account.

Jade got curious and you know what that means…

You got cornered after class and he very politely inquired for your spotify password.

you caved because he shoved you in a corner and it looked like he’d cannibalize you if you said no.

listens purely to Nat Geo podcasts. that’s it. smiling eerily about ‘learning more about nature’.

at least he’s having fun?

also oddly knowledgeable about the others choices in music now???

(yup, he definitely snooped through the others playlists.)

azul was the last one to give in to the hype that was sharing your singular spotify account.

inviting you to his VIP lounge, bringing out a contract, face flushing pink when you started snickering at it.

a full document, written entirely in legalese, penning down what time he could use your account, how many playlists he could make, etc etc…

you just give him your password and leave. (as well as snagging a free drink on your way out. score!)

azul probably only has one playlist, comprising of mostly just jazz - Micheal Bublé and the like, classy stuff he can play at the lounge. (secretly has a soft spot for Laufey and beabadoobee. almost got caught listening to them by the Tweels once, fully dropping his phone on the floor, fumbling with it for a good twenty seconds before shoving it into his pocket. Jade wishes he’d filmed it.)

(They all used some form of intimidation to get Idia to install spotify onto their phones. poor Idia.)

Eleven people using one account. This… is… so… fun!!

Scarabia!

you first used spotify in front of them during the after Jamil overblotted party.

playing fun music is necessary for a good party, after all!

and things turn out pretty well!! you play the all-time classic macarena and it’s a smash hit!

you even end up teaching the Scarabian students how to dance the macarena and they even form a conga line!

in fact, it’s such a hit that Kalim keeps inviting you to his parties to play more music for them!

you end up teaching Scarabia a wide array of 2000’s dances, all to their respective songs.

Jamil eventually asks for your spotify because he’s aware you can’t show up to every single party Kalim hosts.

he creates a playlist to play at each party, with the appropriate songs.

it takes Jamil finding out that Azul uses your spotify account for the Monstro Lounge to really pique his interest and start using it for himself.

listens to hip-hop tracks if he wants to practise his street dancing.

probably listens to those cleaning hack podcasts too… and maybe those parenting a toddler ones too, as well as the psychology ones.

tries a lot of the parenting ‘hacks’ on Kalim. pleasantly surprised when a few work.

like Trey, yet another true crime listener.

Kalim asks if he can join in the fun, and you let him!

he probably falls down a rabbit hole of bright, cheery K-pop - Red Velvet, TWICE, Boy Next Door…

got so sad when he learnt he couldn’t collect photo cards or albums, but settled for printing out photos of the album covers and using them as makeshift posters instead.

masters way too many choreographies, but hey, Jamil’s mostly fine with it - after all, Kalim can’t cause too much trouble for him if he’s just dancing in one of the many dance studios that Scarabia houses.

Kalim almost immediately follows like twenty different artists, causing complaints from the other like eleven people using your account.

In total, there are now thirteen people sharing your singular account!

this is just whats been plaguing my brain for the past days... the other dorms will come soon trust

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prettybugsinbandages · 1 month ago

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Blot!reader pt. 8

Part 8 to this

This is a darker story. I suggest you refrain from reading it if you're in a fragile mental state or unable to handle darker themes.

The days blurred together, spinning like a carousel that had lost its rhythm—too fast, too bright, too sweet in all the wrong ways. It was beautiful, almost nostalgically so, but nauseating. As if time had decided to move forward with a cruel sort of cheer, indifferent to the heaviness you carried with each step.

After that night, no one asked questions.

Perhaps they didn't know how. Perhaps they feared the answers. Or maybe, deep down, they understood that no explanation offered could make any of it easier to bear. No truth would be gentle enough to soothe the ache or clean enough to satisfy curiosity.

The Blot, once a constant presence—whispering in corners of your mind, teasing you, luring and lamenting in equal measure—had gone quiet. It had curled into some hidden recess of your mind and fallen silent. No more murmurs. No more laughter. Not even sorrow.

Just stillness.

And in that silence, the days continued. Time didn't heal so much as it dulled. The pain didn't vanish, but its edges softened, becoming something you could carry without crumbling.

Word of your circumstances had reached others too. Rook, ever the optimist, had suggested involving more minds might help—perhaps a collective pursuit would bring clarity, or even a solution. But all it did was wrap you in an uncomfortable awareness. You weren't a mystery to solve. You were a burden to be managed.

A melancholy settled over campus like mist, creeping into everything and everyone. Even the most powerful students, the most composed individuals, wore subtle changes in their expressions. It was like ripples in still water—small, but undeniable. You noticed them. And worse, you knew you had caused them.

Ruggie caught your eye in passing once. His ears drooped, not out of fear this time, but something gentler. Understanding, maybe. He shifted his weight like he might walk toward you—might say something—but in the end, he turned away. He didn't blame you. He knew what happened was terrifying. But he also knew you were terrified too. Still, things weren't the same, and that subtle drift between you stung sharper than outright blame ever could.

Then there was Riddle.

He said nothing. But you caught him watching you in the reflection of your teacup—eyes focused not on your face, but on the quiet tension in your hands, the way you rubbed the edge of the porcelain like it might fray under your touch. Your tea had gone cold long ago, but you remained seated, fingers tracing delicate swirls as if hoping to anchor yourself in something familiar.

In a quiet, grand gesture of hope—or maybe desperation—Heartslabyul's signature rose guardian had been unearthed. The flowers replanted, replaced with blooms of your choosing. Riddle hadn't mentioned it aloud. He didn't need to. Somewhere beneath his rules and routines, he hoped you'd still be around when the first buds opened. As if time itself could become a clock, counting down not to an end—but to a beginning.

One late night, as you lay motionless in bed, half-present and barely breathing through the static of your own thoughts, a soft ping from your phone flickered through the silence. The shadows in your room flickered, signaling that the Blot had also been startled by the sound. Idia had sent you a message—long, rambling, awkward, and painfully sincere. He apologized for the last tense interaction, for the things he'd said and the things he hadn't. Attached were coordinates.

Curiosity, or maybe something gentler than that, stirred in your chest as you followed them in-game.

What waited for you was a massive, underground bunker built block by block with obsessive care—stocked with everything you liked and needed, every silly item you'd once casually mentioned, every rare collectible he knew you adored, and even every animal—tamable and untamable—neatly confined in entity-friendly spaces as well. It was a digital sanctuary, crafted with shaking hands and a quiet breaking heart. He didn't say he missed you. He didn't have to. The base was the confession.

Idia: I just want you to keep going. Even if it's not for me.

His last message read, surprisingly written with perfect grammar.

Meanwhile, outside your actual window, Malleus continued his nightly rituals. The gentle tap of wind or the faint glimmer of magic was all that marked his passing. The gifts he left behind were unique and otherworldly—small fae tokens: a branch from his favorite tree, a stone somehow carved into an intricate small gargoyle, a piece of glass shaped like a tear that never fell. Each one left in hope, in helplessness, in longing. He was trying to help. Trying to understand. But even the great faerie prince could not comprehend the wound inside you, only mourn that he couldn't soothe it.

Silver never said much. His silences were eloquent and graceful. He continued his quiet patrols past Ramshackle, watching from a respectful distance. He'd always been a guardian of dreams and peace—but he couldn't guard you from yourself. Or the Blot. So instead, he left small flowers woven into crowns and rings on your doorstep when he could, humble blooms from his walks. But they were always wilted by morning. As if even nature understood the fragility of his offering.

You never mentioned the state you often found them in, not wanting to see the boy wilt himself.

The Yuus were gentler now, but more intense in their presence. Always hovering, always nearby. They didn't speak of the truth—but it haunted the spaces between your conversations. The weight of your confession clung to them like a second skin. They smiled at you as if afraid the wrong word might shatter the air around you.

You hated the way they all looked at you—as if you were glass set on the edge of a high shelf. As if breathing too hard might tip you over.

But the truth?

Nothing had changed.

Not really.

Somewhere deep down, you had already made your choice—long before any of them noticed the fracture. It sat inside you like a quiet star: constant, cold, inevitable. You didn't know when the moment would come, only that you'd know it when it did.

And for all their efforts—sweet, sincere, achingly kind—you couldn't be saved in the way they hoped. But overtime it became painfully clear how difficult that goal truly was.

And it wasn't their fault.

It only made the guilt worse.

Like a debt you wished they'd stop trying to repay.

Because the person they were fighting to save—the one who had held them all together—was slipping quietly out of reach. And no one, not even you, knew if they could come back.

The news spread like fire on dry grass—swift, bright, and impossible to ignore.

A way home had been found.

Reactions rippled across campus in a tangled mess of emotions: elation, sorrow, disbelief, anxiety, longing. Some students whispered with hope in their voices; others stared blankly at the walls, caught in a strange limbo of what-ifs and memories. And through it all, one truth remained: you had changed them.

The way people looked at you—the way they felt about you—had shifted. No longer were you just a strange newcomer from another world. Somewhere along the line, you'd become theirs. A friend, a rival, a confidant, a source of chaos and comfort.

And now you were all leaving.

Headmage Crowley called a formal meeting, though even he lacked his usual flair. He stood a little straighter than usual, voice more solemn than usual. The mirror home was open, stable. The stars had aligned in a rare cosmic arrangement. The gate thrummed with raw energy—ready to bring you back where it all began.

Your world. Or... was it?

Because deep inside you, a whisper lingered. Faint. Familiar. The Blot's story. The idea that this—this—was your real world. That your soul had bloomed here once before. Perhaps that's why the ocean reached for you on calm days, why the wind danced with you when you in lonely moments, why the snow and sun kissed you with reverence instead of indifference.

The world here didn't just accept you. It welcomed you. Embraced you. And so did the people within it.

And as the final day drew nearer, fleeting moments played in your mind like petals caught in a breeze:

Deuce had leaned over during class, whispering urgently as if trying to catch time by the tail. His teal eyes shimmered with quiet urgency, like deep ponds stirred with emotion. "You should text me if you go," he said, lips tugged into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "All of us. Even if it's like... cross-dimensional." It wasn't meant to sway your choice, just a promise: you are loved here.

Leona dropped his thoughts at lunch like they didn't weigh as much as they clearly did. He sat across from you, lazily pushing a tray your way. "Ordered too much." he muttered—though you both knew he didn't. As you ate, his gaze lingered, not on your face, but on the simple fact that you were still here. Still present. Still real. "You're stronger than you think. Even without all that Blot junk." The lion gave a soft scoff, one ear flicking. "You'd fit in at the Sunset Savanna. People respect lions there. And you have the strength of a Lion." You knew what he meant: There was a place waiting for you.

And Kalim? He couldn't sit still. Ever since the news broke, he'd been rushing around like a whirlwind of joy and dread, putting together elaborate gift boxes for each of you. Trinkets, silks, spices, ornate keepsakes—things that would make jaws drop back in your world. He said it was so you'd never forget him. And oddly enough, Jamil never once protested. He simply helped. Quietly. Carefully. Like he, too, wanted to give you something that could never be repaid.

The hour before your departure arrived too quickly, yet dragged with unbearable weight.

Within the quiet hush of the Mirror Chamber, everything was illuminated by an eerie softness—like the world itself knew this was a moment it should handle delicately. The usual chatter had fallen to a hush. The air was heavy with unsaid things.

Trey approaches first, carrying bags loaded with care. You could tell he'd packed them himself. Neatly arranged inside were tarts—your favorites—alongside sweets he'd made over the years. Some were crumbling a little from being hastily prepared. Others were packed carefully in tins or paper to preserve their shape. Between them, he'd slipped in small, handwritten notes. Jokes. Memories. Reminders. Pieces of a life he can't follow.

"For the road," he said, voice rough and cracked, like he hadn't spoken all morning. Not quite the easygoing Trey you remembered. As Yuuken reached in to quietly take one of the signature sweets, there was a shared understanding—this was the last taste of Heartslabyul you would have. The last sweetness made for you.

The Mirror Chamber had filled with those closest to you, all huddled in a makeshift half-circle, as though any moment now they'd try to block the mirror with their bodies. A final attempt to keep you here.

Confessions clung to the walls like mold. Unspoken apologies floated like dust in the morning light. It felt like being at the edge of something vast—something you couldn't see beyond, but could feel.

Vil approached you next. Always composed, always immaculate, his heels clicked quietly against the floorboards as he came to fix your collar. His fingers moved with precision, but his touch lingered just a second longer than it needed to.

"You've always made an impression," he said, eyes narrowing though the edges of his expression faltered, "Now make an even better one when you go back. Hold your head high. Don't cry in front of that portal." His voice lowered, the gentleness slipping out against his will. "You deserve to leave with dignity. After everything, you deserve it."

You stood surrounded by uncharacteristic warmth, by familiarity, by those you'd once hated, distrusted, or even feared—only to later realize their cruelty wasn't personal. They'd simply been broken in their own ways, the reality around all of you unknowingly manipulated by something beyond comprehension. And still, you had come to matter to them.

The mirror at the center of the room pulsed gently, casting an otherworldly green glow that flickered across their faces—across your face. The kind of glow that seemed to hum with power, with promise.

Beyond that glass: a world you had once called home. You could almost hear it—distant sounds, the hush of a subway station, the hum of the bus, rain against a window, a fan left on all year. You could smell it, too—concrete warmed by the sun, your favorite food spot down the street, old paper and familiar detergent.

It called to you like a siren, and inside, something shifted.

The Blot was silent now. Dormant. Patient. Maybe it hoped to return with you. Maybe it simply waited to see what you'd choose.

Because that's what this moment truly was: a choice.

You, standing between two lives. Two worlds. Two versions of yourself. Whole, but scattered. Loved, but always longing.

The mirror ripples.

And somewhere behind you, someone whispered—maybe it was Azul, perhaps Jamil—"Are you really going to leave?"

With Lilia's assistance, Grim carefully raised the old ghost camera to capture you all in a final, treasured moment. For once, the lens faces the Ramshackle Prefects and not their subjects; A final keepsake for those you're leaving behind.

You swallow down a lump in your throat as you watch the Yuus all leave one-by-one, your feet now rooted to the ground.

Your decision, chosen long ago, came into play now.

Break the contract.

Remain with the Blot.

Reach for him.

Go home.

Thank you all so much for following me on this journey through my second posted story since I was a kid.

I hope I wrote this well and many doubts still linger about it. Some parts I'm proud of, others I'm a little hesitant to admire.

Reading your comments and asks always made my day better and writing this gave me something to do. I apologize if the endings seemed shitty. The fanfic writer curse really got me while I was trying to write the endings and they're written pretty far apart from everything.

I hope I can keep improving on on writing, maybe I'll post another long fic like this but I'll likely do requests for smaller things if anyone would like.

All these endings took me a whole month. This part began on April 17th and it's now May 17th. I hope the long wait has been worth this for you all.

Again, thank you.

I've been thinking about writing my own original story if anybody would be interested. Though everything is rough in drafts.

taglist: @tachibubu @shirp-collector-of-fixations @goatsmilksblog @iris-arcadia @pumpkindevil @gabile18 @sugarxrt @fancyhawk45 @mewchiili @olxh @muffinenergy @citrus-cinnamon @boredselkie @tipsyon-tea @blerp-22 @is-it-night-or-day @xinfinityx @ashieeeesh @b0nesandskin @texas-fox @owl778 @ghostlysyntaxed @youwannatrade @jar-03 @brights-place @pebble-bb @boredwithlifeatthispoint @casperandcats @rinart89 @raineondrugs @o-ffic @chloemari-e @roseinbloom02 @mandalay7y @s0up-good @the-unhinged-raccoon @cecil-the-crybaby @mr-crawlings-wife @ironsaladwitch @kiki-kuku @annexblogs @linaaeatsfamilies @pokedragon7 @dondonrulerofall @heavy-blanket-enjoyer @bluewolfangel01 @m1lly69 @yesthisisrookhunt @sarraisme @blueberriesblueberri @gracegarnet @kttgwsh @yapper-and-dapper @kashasenpai

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lynnuvo · 1 year ago

Text

Puppy Love ( ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა )

Characters: Monoma Neito x Female (Y/N)

How you managed to grow attracted to the loud, arrogant mascot of Class 1B is a mystery to your peers. This is so to even yourself, though you chalked it up to a "curiosity killed the cat" scenario. Over the course of your first three weeks of being in UA’s Class 1B, you decided to be the annoying cat poking at his side. It was hard to not pay attention to him, so why not make it fun?

He was a bit irritated at first. You were pretty sure he had some underlying insecurity because every time you mentioned him being scared of being outshone by Class 1A, he'd get into a hissy fit. You stopped talking about this as much when Kendo Itsuka indirectly hinted it'd be best to, but that didn't stop your other antics. You'd leave sticky notes of hilarious drawings about him on his desk, in his backpack, and in his shoe locker. You'd follow him around like a lost puppy in the building--sometimes to the bathroom door on accident. You'd pester him with questions too. There's been several occasions you asked about his favorite snacks or other items and got just as much the opposite as possible.

A few classmates joked that you were bullying him, but it wouldn't really be bullying if Monoma Neito eventually learned to save a seat for you in the cafeteria or keep the gifts you gave him despite not liking them, right? Would he have hated you if he'd ask to walk you home back before the dorms were built, chiding that someone as weak as you needed someone as strong as him? Did he really want you to stop pestering him if he sought out for you in the girl's section of the dorm watching TV in the living room for two hours? It was unusual you weren’t already a trumpet in his ear by that time, after all.

"What are you doing here?" Tokage Setsuna questioned when she exited her room to see Monoma walking down the hall in her direction. "You know the boys' section is on the other side, right?"

Monoma startled but settled his composure quick. "Yes, I know. I'm just looking for something. I seem to have lost it."

"So you're looking for it here?"

"Well, I haven't found it anywhere else yet. Perhaps someone picked it up and dropped it."

"What are you looking for?"

"Uh—a decorated blue hair pin. It's small but fits well with one of my polos."

"You wear hair pins?"

He scoffed. "Hair pins are an accessory not just for girls. It could be that someone on this side picked it up, thought it was cute, and kept it."

"Sure...." Tokage leaned her back against her door and crossed her arms. A smirk crept onto her face. "You sure you didn't lose anything else? Maybe someone with (your hair color) hair?"

"I'm sure."

"Well then, I'll help you look for this pin."

"Oh! No need!" Monoma replied, waving his hands in front of his chest. "I think I can find it on my own. Even if I don't find it, I can easily buy another one later."

Tokage's smirk grew into a wide grin. "Come on, it's better to search with two pairs of eyes instead of one!"

"Really, thank you, but—!”

"Monoma-kun?"

The two turned to a door further down the hall that just opened. Out came you in your pajamas, hair a bit of an entangled mess. A yawn escaped your lips. "Do we have class today?"

"No, we don't. And what are you doing just now getting out of bed?!" He hurried over to you and brushed some hairs from your face. "It's 3 in the afternoon, for goodness' sake!"

You furrowed your brows. "'m sorry. I slept in."

Tokage watched him chide you for wasting the morning away. It was comical how both of you denied romantic feelings for each other, and yet here you two were acting like a relationship was in progress. Her stomach suddenly growled. She pushed herself off her door. "I'm gonna get some lunch. Good luck. (Y/N)-chan, Monoma said he lost a blue hairpin. Why don't you help him find it? See you guys!"

After bidding Tokage goodbye, you looked up at the blond boy. "You wear hair pins?"

"Well—sometimes! Not recently, just—uh—on occasion. But no matter! I can buy another one some other time!" Monoma bumped your shoulder, urging you forward. "Hurry and get ready for the day. I'm so awfully bored."

You chuckled. "Aww, you missed me?"

"As if!"

You and Monoma's dynamic was fun and rather straightforward at first—an enemies to friends type of dynamic. Most of the class could see through the teasing that you two cared about each other and enjoyed each other's company. Overtime, however, you found yourself growing frustrated with the boy. Weeks of being by his side made your heart grow fond of him, but he didn't state anything of the same effect your companionship had on him. When you teased that he loved you or missed you, he shut it down fast. Although not out of character, it began to hurt you.

After an in-depth confession to Kendo in her room (and a small moment of you crying on her shoulder), she messaged you the next day to go on hangouts with her after school every other day with Hiryu Rin. She mentioned in the text conversation that she believes some time away from Monoma might help. You agreed.

You and Rin were good friends, but you two never hung out or talked outside of classes and when you both happened to be in the same vicinity. The first day all three of you hung out started a little awkward, but it became an entertaining pasttime quick. You three hung out at an arcade, at coffee shops, in the gym training, and even on runs to the grocery store. When you three didn't feel like going outside, you guys would sit on the floor in front of the TV and parallel play.

When the dorms were established, Monoma walked by your side with the rest of class to the dorms. With you on hangouts immediately after school now, he bid you, Kendo, and Rin a simple farewell and continued chatting with the rest of your classmates. A pang hit your heart upon his nonchalant goodbye, but you shoved it down. Once the three of you returned, you'd hangout with him and a few others in the dorm after settling down.

So imagine your surprise when a knock sounded on your door two hours after you returned from another fun hangout with Kendo and Rin. You hadn't been expecting anyone since you planned on resting in that day, so you were especially not expecting Monoma to be standing there when you popped the door open a tad.

He looked at you sternly. "Can we talk?"

"Oh—uh—sure," you replied, caught off guard by his unusual facial expression. You welcomed him inside and gestured for him to sit on your desk's chair, which he did so as you shut the door and sat on your bed. Your fingers fiddled with the blanket beneath you. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Do you like Rin?"

Your shrimp posture was no longer as you shot up. "What?! No! I mean, he's a great friend, but I haven't thought about...like...dating him yet."

"Yet?"

"I mean it like I didn't consider it!"

He pulled out his phone, opened a text message thread, clicked on an image to expand it, and showed it to you. "What's this?"

It was a selfie Kendo took of you, Rin, and her on a grocery store run. The angle was pointed down at the group, with only Kendo's eyes coming into frame while she held the phone up. Not realizing she was taking a selfie until the picture was taken, you and Rin stood side by side picking avocados. You had to admit the side profile of you and Rin's laugh was kind of adorable, but you were pulled from reminiscing that day by Monoma clearing his throat.

You backed away from the phone. "This happened last week. Why are you bringing it up?"

"You and Rin look awfully close." He put his phone away and crossed his arms. Contrary to the indication of his body language, his face softened as well as his tone. "You know, if you like Rin, you can tell me. I just want to know."

"Why?"

"Well, since we both hangout a lot, I wouldn't want to interfere with your time with him. Maybe you two could—I don't know—I could offer him my seat in class from now on so you two can get to talk more."

You shook your head. "It's fine, really! Me and Rin can talk after class."

He got up from your chair and laughed, rolling his eyes. "Then you two can talk during class as well. A desk is just a desk, after all. I'll tell him to switch seats with me after dinner."

Once he started heading for the door, you jumped from your bed and snatched his wrist, trying to pull him back. "Monoma, stop! It's okay, really! I don't mind!"

He wretched his wrist free only for you to grab it again. "And I don't mind playing matchmaker for my dear friends, believe me."

"Stop! Please don't!"

"I like sitting with you! Trust me, it's okay!"

"Yes, but it'd be a good idea to help you with your love ordeal."

Escaping your grasp once more, his hand fell on the door handle and his shoulder touched the door. In a last ditch effort, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him back in. "I LIKE YOU! STOP!"

And that he did.

Time skipped a beat before he backed away from the door, turning wide-eyed to look at you. Tears rested on your waterline. After darting his eyes around the room, Monoma hurriedly guided you to your bed again. "I'm so sorry, please don't cry."

"I like you! I've been liking you!" you whined as you clung onto Monoma's shirt despite him trying to lay you down. He gave up and embraced your body in one hand while patting your back with the other. You buried your face in his neck. "I told you I like you!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you liked me so much." He shushed you for a while before adding, "I shouldn't have questioned you this way. I'm so sorry. Please don't cry, (Y/N)-chan."

"I already am..."

"Oh. Right."

Needless to say, Monoma was not the best source of comfort. But he did his best. Once your breathing calmed down, he sat behind you and rested you against his body. You couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you cry, so you were grateful when he passed you a tissue. After wiping your face and tossing the tissue in the trash can, you leaned your head against his chest. His heart raced; you could feel it.

Monoma’s hands wrapped around both of yours. “I’m so sorry.”

Heat rushed to your face at the sight of your hands. A headache began to form in the back of your head. “It’s okay. I know you want to help me, but I really do like you. I have for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you didn’t look like you liked me back.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Um. You don’t really do anything romantic. Sure, we hang out a lot, but it just feels like hangouts as friends. Well, it did to me until I caught feelings, but you know what I mean. I just—I didn’t know what to do about these feelings.”

You raised your head and finally looked at guilty expression on his face. The question of whether he liked you back caught in your throat, but the twitches in his lips as he struggled to find the words to speak left a sinking feeling in your gut.

At last, he let out a sigh and squeezed you in an embrace. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. Thank you for—uh—for thinking of me so, but I need to figure out how to go about this. Can you give me some time to respond properly?”

You squeezed him back. “Yes, of course.”

After sitting in your room for a good five minutes doing nothing but holding each other, Monoma exclaimed he needed to help prepare dinner downstairs and excused himself. You cursed yourself in your head for confessing in such a way. But there was no turning back now.

At dinner, you both sat next to each other as normal, but conversation was awkward, to say the least. Neither of you could properly look the other in the eye despite briefly talking about subjects unrelated to the incident. For most of the meal, you both opted to talk to other peers. Things were not so different in class. Despite sitting beside each other, you two spoke little. You couldn’t bring yourself to tease him after the fool you made of yourself, and it felt like Monoma was distancing himself despite the fact that he still sat next to you at lunch and walked beside you on the way to the dorms.

Kendo Itsuka messaged you only three days later, questioning what on earth happened. You told her about the incident, and the next thing you knew, Kendo barged into your room professing apology after apology. She explained that although she did want to give you space from Monoma, another purpose of the hangouts with her, you, and Rin was to make Monoma jealous. She’d gotten the idea from movies but hadn't expected this outcome. You forgave her and thanked her for her efforts. After all, you could see the potential. It was unfortunate Monoma was not like the guys in her movies.

A week passed. The awkward silence was getting unbearable. You really wished you’d demanded a deadline for his consideration.

For once, your bedroom felt suffocating, so while other students opted for the privacy of their rooms, you sat on the couch watching a drama on a very casual day. You were pretty bored until footsteps sounded behind you. You turned your head to see Monoma. You moved your legs off the couch and watched as he sat beside you.

He nodded. “Hey.”

“Uh—hi.”

You both faced the TV. After a week of this, all you two could muster was a simple greeting? You internally cringed. It was enough to suffer through silence with others around. Why would he come down just for this?

You soon found out why as you felt something on your hand—that something turning out to be Monoma’s hand. Your heart pounded faster. “What are you doing?”

He turned to you and sputtered, “I—um—nothing.”

Before he could remove his hand, you snatched it and held it firmly. His admittedly cute, nervous face fueled your nearly dead desire to tease him. “Monoma-kun, there’s no way you could have accidentally done that.”

“Well—I—!” He pursed his lips then shook his head. “I’m not used to this.”

“We’ve never held hands before.”

“I mean romance, stupid!” He scowled, lifting your conjoined hands and shaking it as if it was an obvious clue in a murder mystery. “I tell you I need to think it over. Then, I am holding your hand! What do you think that means?!”

Your eyes widened. “You…like me?”

“Come on! I’m leaving.”

Before he could get up, you lurched forward and took a hold of his arm. “Monoma-kun, no! You have to say it! Tell me if it’s a yes or no. Please?”

After a moment of continuing to look away, he finally turned to face you again with furrowed brows. “I like you. I have also been for a while now.”

“AWW, YOU LOVEEE ME?”

“I’M LEAVING!”

“NO! I’M JUST KIDDING!”

Joy couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. Apparently so didn’t it describe Monoma’s feelings because despite numerous statements of saying he’d leave, he buried himself further into your company until he ended up lying with his head in your lap, still holding your hand.

You still needed to figure out whether you two were going to officially date right after this, but that can wait. Only this time, you were going to make sure he compensated for the overthinking your situation has caused.

#bnha x reader #fanfiction #writerscommunity #x y/n #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #writing #female reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #monoma neito #bnha monoma #mha monoma #monoma x reader #neito monoma #slight angst

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