#the ending of this one was very sweet and just what I needed though

[yoongiseesawmp3]

too sweet - san

summary: model!san x designer!reader. it's love at first sight when you see san. he's perfect...for your runway show! he's the top model right now, and everyone wants him. you want him a little more, but we'll unpack that later. can you get the it boy into your collection?

word count: 8.6k

warnings: afab reader

masterlist

"how many more?" you whine, collapsing onto the table in front of you. your dramatics shuffle all of the model cards out of order after you spent the last hour organizing them. your system is ruined, so your mood goes too. the only thing to pull you back to reality is jen, your right hand man. she pulls you up, encouraging words on her lips, and gets to reordering the cards you just messed up.

"we only have a few more," she reminds you. "and the last few have been good! i think we'll have plenty of options for your show."

"yeah, the girls have been great," you agree. "but the guys are all meh. i thought i was being all forward thinking doing a coed collection but now i wish i hadn't."

"oh come on," jen nudges you. "these guys were hot!"

"they're pretty, but this guy tripped, this one didn't bring a portfolio, and this one has conflicts from now until the show," you list off. "i need at least two more, or i'll have to cut the men's pieces."

"we'll find one," jen ruffles your hair. "you want me to go bring in the next model?"

"nah, we've got a few more minutes on our break," you tell her. "i'm gonna go get a coffee, do you need anything?"

"a water is fine," she replies as you slip out the door. you try to avoid the waiting area so you won't run into any potential models. you make it to the coffee machine down the hall, and of course it's just your luck that there's a tall skinny man already there.

"y/n?" he smiles. "i didn't know this was your show!"

"seonghwa?" you smile back. "i swear, you get taller every time i see you."

"what can i say? i eat my wheaties," he jokes, pulling you in for a polite hug. "how long have you had this gig?"

"few months," you reply. "i've been shitting bricks the whole time."

"i'm sure," he nods. "but you're doing a great job. i've never seen this many top models in the same place for years. everyone wants to walk for you."

"well that's very flattering," you mumble. "but you'd think 'top models' would come more prepared. half of these bozos have not impressed me."

"she's talented and determined," seonghwa notes. "guess i gotta bring my a game."

"i guess you do," you tease him. "hey, you don't know anyone who could come audition before the end of the day, do you? i need more guys."

"i could make a few calls," he thinks. "what do you have in mind?"

"is it too vain to say someone sexy?" you laugh. "we're looking for someone intimidating, good walk, strong features. it's a dramatic piece so i want someone unique."

"i might know a guy," seonghwa nods.

"anyone i'd know?"

"i guess you'll know when you see him," he replies. "i gotta go, i think i'm next, so-"

"right, right, go make yourself pretty," you tell him. "it was so good to see you!"

"you too," he smiles at you genuinely. "proud of you."

"hey, no shmoozing before your audition."

-

seonghwa got a place in your show, obviously. now you only need one more guy. jen convinced you the tripper could work with some help, and there was another model from earlier in the day that you think deserves a call. you still need someone for your final piece, though, and you're running out of hope.

"so how do you know seonghwa again?" jen asks as you wait for the last model to show. "and how well do you know him? and how well would he like to know me?"

"we worked together a few years ago," you laugh. "he was one of the models in my first show."

"so you gave him his big break? he's indebted to you?" jen asks. "he has to make it up to you by, i don't know, going on a date with your best friend and best stylist?"

"we'll see," you frown. "you know i don't like messing with models."

"i hate that rule," jen mumbles as she sits back in her seat. "where's this last model? i wanna go home."

"seonghwa said he pulled a favor getting him here," you explain as you check your phone. "so he might be running behind. i can wait for him if you wanna go."

"no, if he's anything like seonghwa i want to be here to ogle him."

at that, there's a knock at the door, and you call out for them to come in. who steps through the door is maybe the most beautiful man you've ever seen. he's striking, strong, and smiling shyly like he's not used to having eyes on him despite his profession.

"hi, i hope i'm not too late?" he asks, standing by the door.

"no," you quickly reply. "not at all, come in. you're seonghwa's friend?"

"yep," he confirms, walking up to hand you the most professional looking portfolio you've seen all day. and this guy wasn't even expecting to walk! no way you're hiring those other losers now. "i'm san."

"san, hi," you smile at him, and jen stifles a laugh next to you. somebody's smitten, she thinks, but she won't say anything just yet. "i'm y/n, i'm the designer, and this is jen, my stylist."

"nice to meet you," jen presents her hand, and san tentatively shakes it. "firm handshake, i like it. you have soft hands."

"thanks?" he laughs nervously. "um, so do i just-"

"yes, yes," you motion for him to head to the back of the room. "whenever you're ready."

as if you weren't already convinced this was the guy for you (i mean, for your show) then his walk sold it. his presence is so commanding, his movements so precise, and you've never seen someone with such perfect posture. it makes you sit up straighter as he walks toward you, and you almost swoon when he winks at you before turning around. you squeeze jen's hand under the table, and when san finishes his walk you fight the urge to applaud.

"that was great!" jen comments once san is finished. "y/n, what did you think?"

"you're perfect," you breathe out, and jen nudging you brings you back to earth. "uh, for the collection."

"thanks," san smiles proudly. "hopefully i'll hear from you soon."

"hopefully you will," you smile back. "thanks for coming on such short notice."

"it was my pleasure," san says, waving as he ducks out into the hall. as soon as the door is shut, you turn to jen and say, "i love him."

"i know you do," she laughs. "so is he in the show?"

"in the show?" you scoff. "he is the show. he's exactly what i was imagining. i want ten more of him."

"i'm sure you'd like that," she says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"stop," you roll your eyes. "i just said i don't mess with models."

"mhm," jen nods. "so who else are we casting? we have one spot for sure..."

-

san and seonghwa were cast immediately. well, maybe not immediately. you both looked through their portfolios, ooh'ing and aah'ing over their looks before deciding they had to be in the show. when you and jen decided on the next two male models quickly, you figured this would be an easy discussion. wrong! you have four female models you're willing to fight tooth and nail for, and jen has her own four that she's just as committed to. you've been deliberating for a while now, so you decide to take a break. you head to that same break room you met seonghwa in earlier, and you thought briefly about taking san's portfolio with you. for research purposes, obviously, but you decided against it.

as soon as you step into the hallway, you hear faint sounds of music. not unusual for this studio space, but still, you proceed with caution. you don't want to interrupt anybody, so you walk quietly until you find the the source of the sound. it's san! and he's...dancing?

"oh god, sorry," he bumbles as soon as he sees you. he rushes to his phone, propped against the window in front of him. "god. that's embarrassing."

"what were you doing?" you smile at him.

"embarrassing myself," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. he wiggles his phone in the air and explains, "my agent wants me to post more, says it'll help me get booked, and he sent me a couple tiktok trends he wants me to do. so i was.."

"dancin' your heart out?" you tease, and he blushes.

"you could say that," he smiles shyly, again making it seem like he's not used to having attention on him. does he know he's a model?

"wait, how long have you been out here?" you ask, worried he might have heard you and jen (mostly you) gawking over his portfolio.

"just a few minutes," he shrugs. "part of why i was able to come walk for you is because of another audition i had on the other side of this building. so i was over there for a while, and came back here to humiliate myself in front of my favorite designer, it seems."

"your favorite, huh?" you ask. "good thing we've cast my show already, otherwise i'd think you're sucking up."

"damn, so i'm too late?" san laughs.

"who else is auditioning models here?" you change the subject.

"kim hongjoong?" san says it like a question, and you nod in recognition.

"he's good," you hum. "i hope you don't get it though."

"what?" san balks. "why?"

"because i want you in my show," you shrug. "and i don't wanna fight hongjoong for you, even though i know i'd win."

"you sure about that?" san asks. "he's been working out, i hear."

"oh i could so take him," you assure san. "i'm a biter." you notice a flicker in san's eyes, a hint of something, but you feel yourself blushing and cough so you have an excuse to cover your face. "excuse me. i should probably go, we've got a few more models to cast.."

"wait, so you just drop the bomb that i'm in your show and then you're gone?" san asks, following you down the hall. "how do i know you're serious?"

"because you have my word," you furrow your eyebrows. "but if you really need the confirmation, i'm sure my people will call your people soon." as if on cue, san's phone starts buzzing, still perched on the window. san looks to it, then you. you feel vindicated as you turn and walk on to the break room with a flick of your hair over your shoulder, leaving a stunned model and the smell of peaches in your wake.

-

all the models have been cast, and it's the morning of your first fitting. you slept in your studio last night because you had so much work to do. it was mostly tiny alterations to ensure the pieces fit their new models, but you also spent half the night cleaning. you don't let people into your studio usually, or if you do, it's people that know you well enough to know you and your work are a mess. but today, you're the boss. you need to look put together, and so does your studio.

you're standing by the door, taking everything in, and decide that this is as clean as you'll get it. there's still fabric, zippers, stray threads strewn all over your work tables, but you're a designer. that's normal. if the models have complaints they can deal. being next to the door, you hear something in the hall, but write it off as one of your artistic neighbors at work. you start to walk away, toward your coffee station in the back, when the doorknob to your studio jiggles. you hear a quiet "shit" and then a polite knock, so you walk over cautiously. one look through the peephole reveals who it is.

"san?" you ask, opening the door. "what are you doing here?"

"realizing i am," he checks his ridiculously expensive watch, "an hour early for my fitting. sorry." he adds a sheepish smile at the end and you fight the urge to coo. he looks like he just woke up, and that he definitely rushed here. his clothes are mussed, hair in a beanie to hide it not being done, eyes puffy with sleep. still, he looks perfect.

"was the email confusing?" you ask. "i was worried that-"

"no," he shakes his head. "no, i was just, um, i'm really excited," he explains shyly. "i almost couldn't sleep last night, so when i woke up this morning i thought i had overslept. i should've checked."

"no worries," you say as you blush. he was excited? for a fitting? man must love his job. "here, come in. i just finished cleaning, so you get first dibs on space. there's a couch in the back if you want to nap before we get started."

"how long have you been here?" san asks, looking around at the studio. he sees a lot of chaos, but it's beautiful chaos. colors that compliment each other perfectly, strange techniques that have made something stunning. he can't believe he'll be part of this show.

"uh, since last night," you admit, finally reaching your coffee machine. "i had a lot to do."

"you slept here?" san frowns, tossing his stuff onto a table before joining you. he leans against the wall as he watches you.

"yeah," you shrug. "i hate waking up early, so it saved me from getting here grumpy if anything."

"but did you rest?" he asks, looking out at the studio. "this is a big space for one person to clean."

"jen helped," you tell him. "she was here last night to bring over the shoes for each outfit."

"which one is mine?" san asks with an eager smile.

"wouldn't you like to know?" you stick your tongue out at him for good measure. "yours isn't out here. it's so big i had to keep it in my office, i couldn't move it out here by myself."

"it's big?" he looks a little scared.

"that may not be the right word," you think. "it's heavy, so that's why i needed someone strong to wear it."

"you think i'm strong?" san smirks, and you blush. "how'd you know?"

your mind thinks to his portfolio still sitting on your desk, full to the brim of him in scantily clad photoshoots. you've seen pictures of his chest, his abs, his arms. muscles that had to take hours in the gym to sculpt. you wonder shyly if his portfolio is still on your desk, open to a picture of him in a pink outfit with a hint of his chest on display. you'll have to cover it quickly if it is.

"i asked seonghwa how you two met, and he said you go to the same snooty model gym," you explain, which is the truth. seonghwa had been in a couple shows with san before they became friends, but it took the two of them working out together to actually become buddies. they've been looking out for each other ever since, seonghwa told you. san seems to think your explanation was enough, so he hums and nods before turning his attention back to your collection.

"so how did you and seonghwa meet?" he asks casually. you tell him about your first show, as an independent designer no less, and how seonghwa found you stress crying backstage. as you always do when describing seonghwa, you stress how your relationship was friendly, but nothing more. you never want anyone to think you're fooling around with one of your models. but san finds himself thinking, hm, that means seonghwa isn't his competition.

"do you want anything to drink?" your voice pulling san from his thoughts. he looks at you, cupping a warm mug of coffee, and smiles.

"no, thank you," he says. "i try not to have anything before a fitting, i never want to mess up the sizing and put more work on the designer."

"san that doesn't sound healthy," you frown. "and what kind of designer is sticking you in clothes so skin tight you can't have a glass of water? i need names."

"it's a lot of them, i'm afraid," he laughs. "most people cast me expecting to show off my abs, or something else, so i don't have much space to mess up during show season."

"yeah, you are always showing some kind of skin," you think about it.

"you been studying me?" san teases, and you blush.

"i'm a designer, it's my job," you mumble. "i reviewed everyone's portfolio thoroughly."

"what was seonghwa's last shoot then?" san quizzes you. you make a guess, but you get it wrong. "and what was mine?"

"vogue, right?" you answer immediately, and san responds with a shit eating grin.

"i'm so telling hwa i'm your favorite model now," he says, resting against the wall again as he folds his arms over his chest. his very muscled arms, and his broad-

"knock knock!" jen shouts from the door. she steps inside and asks, "you know you didn't lock this- oh hey san."

"good morning," he nods to her. "nice to see you again."

"nice to see you too, so bright and early," jen says as she looks at you. "how long have we been here?"

"me since last night, san since a few minutes ago. he didn't read the email."

"i read the email!" he whines. "i was just excited!"

"that's sweet," jen coos as she dumps bags onto one of your worktables. "i hope i'm not interrupting anything?"

"jen, do you have a favorite model?" san asks, and she thinks for a moment.

"no, i don't," she shakes her head. "there's too many good ones, so it depends on the day. why do you ask?"

"i just found out i'm y/n's favorite," san explains with a smile.

"you just found out?" jen laughs, and you groan. san looks like he's gonna say something else but you speak before he can.

"hey, since y'all are both here, come help me move this table," you command. "we need space for the models to walk." they do as you say, but share a knowing look while you're distracted. it's a bad thing to have your best friend and your crush in cahoots, but you'll figure that out later.

-

since san was here early, you got to work on his fitting first. jen finished setting up the workroom while you and san went to your office. jen made a show of putting headphones in to listen to music, and you wanted to pinch her so hard. she's making it obvious that you have a thing for san, and you're hoping beyond hope he doesn't notice.

"oh my god," he whispers when you open the door to your office, revealing the piece you've dedicated the past few months to. "that's incredible."

"you like it?" you turn to him, unsure. "it's a lot, i know."

"i love it," he smiles from ear to ear. "i've never worn something like this before."

"i hope no one has," you laugh nervously. "i tried a technique to emulate fur, so i'm hoping this is a super cool fashion innovation that'll take the industry by storm."

"how'd you do it?" san asks, looking at the piece in awe. "and how long did it take?"

"so, i shredded pounds and pounds of natural fabric until it looked so fine it could be a better alternative to faux fur," you explain. "and it took me about...four months?" san whistles lowly, his hands twitching at his sides. "you can touch it if you want."

"i want to put it on," he turns to you excitedly. "how do you want me to wear it?"

"don't hate me," you beg. "since this is such a big piece, and i want it to draw attention, i don't have a shirt for you."

"that's ok," san nods. "adds to the natural element."

"exactly," you smile, blushing anyway. "and there's just white pants underneath, for contrast. they should be super comfy, to make up for the workout you'll get walking around in the jacket."

"i can't wait," san says happily. he turns to you fully, looking between the outfit and you. "do you want me to strip, or...?"

"oh god, let me turn around," you say. "the pants are on the desk. let me know when you have them on."

"you're very polite," san chuckles. "most designers try to manage every single thing, including how models get dressed."

"it's pants," you scoff. "if you can't put pants on how did you get out the house?"

"i'm ready," he says, and you turn back to find him in the pants, yes, but still with his shirt on.

"um, do you mind?" you ask, tugging at the neckline of your own shirt hoping he gets the hint. it distracts him just enough that you have to call his name, and he looks at you with a hum. "can you, uh, take your shirt off?" he responds with actions, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. you squeak out, "great!" and then shuffle toward the mannequin. "i might need help lifting this."

"no worries," he hurries to your aid, his hands brushing yours as you push the jacket off the form. "wow, this is no joke."

"if it's too heavy i can-"

"i can handle it," san says firmly. "help me into it?"

you hold up one side while san slips his arm in, and then help him into the rest. you take a step closer, trying to fasten the clasp on the front, but it won't meet. you struggle for a minute, hands ghosting so softly over san's chest. he doesn't realize he's holding his breath until your voice pulls him from his focus.

"what?" he looks down at you. "why are you frowning? it looks great."

"it doesn't fit over your chest," you pout. "i thought i had your measurements right-"

"oh, sorry, i've been working out," san admits. "and i think i gave you an old portfolio since i was in a rush, so my information may not be up to date..."

"shit," you mumble, and san tries to fix the situation. he starts tugging at the jacket, but you gasp and grab his hands, stilling them instantly. you look at him sternly as you instruct, "i'll make it fit, you just have to wear it. please don't do my job for me."

"sorry," san whispers. you're so close he could just lean down and kiss that pout from your lips, but that wouldn't be professional of him. but boy does he want to.

"before you take it off, let me find your shoes," you look around. "i want to see the whole look together...maybe jen knows where they are."

you open your office door and peek your head out, gasping at what you find. jen is pushed up against one of your work tables, and seonghwa is standing before her holding her waist like she could slip away at any moment. they're making out like they've done this before, and you clear your throat to get their attention.

"hi," seonghwa mewls. "this isn't what it looks like."

"looks like two of my employees are goofing off when they should be doing their jobs," you mumble, wandering around the studio. "jen, where are san's shoes?"

"um, by the door?" she guesses. "i didn't see his outfit in here, so i didn't know where to put them."

"it's in my office," you respond. "that's why i took him in there."

"i didn't know," she shrugs. you find the shoes and then glare at them, but neither one takes you seriously.

"seonghwa, your outfit is labeled with your name. it's an easy piece, simple closures, so you shouldn't need any help getting it on," you explain. "jen, come here. we have a problem."

"holy shit, you look awesome," jen says as soon as she sees san. she looks at you and asks, "what's wrong with it?"

"his chest is too broad," you frown again, staring at san's chest. "i can't get the jacket to close."

"he can't hold it when he walks?" jen suggests, and san tries it out. you start shaking your head before he finishes, and he actually whines when he sees your reaction.

"no, it's gonna fall off your shoulders if you do that," you say. "i want it to stay in place, and i need the clasp to work for that to happen."

"so what are you gonna do?" jen asks.

"not sleep until i fix it?" you reply. you look at her in defeat and add, "i don't know what else i can do."

"can i help?" san offers, but you shake your head again as jen says, "yes, you can." you try to protest, but she cuts you off.

"he can cut the initial shreds!" she offers. "then you do your magic putting them into the jacket. it takes out a step for you so hopefully it'll be quicker."

"what she said," san butts in. "let me help, please."

"i can't pay you for your extra time," you say softly. "i don't want to impose-"

"don't care," san shakes his head. "i've got nothing else going on."

"perfect!" jen claps her hands together. "you two figure that out, i'm gonna check on hwa..."

-

the rest of the fitting goes well. it's perfect, actually. you have the best models you've ever worked with, every piece fits, and the collection looks beautiful all together. you tear up watching them all walk before you, and the piece san is wearing literally makes a hush fall over the room. he still walks toward you with a wink, but this time it doesn't affect you as much. you're too focused on how much time it'll take to add a couple more inches to the coat. when san finishes, everyone looks to you expectantly, and it takes jen calling your name for your mind to catch up with your mouth.

"i don't know what to say," you admit. "you all did an amazing job, and this was just a fitting! imagine what this show will look like on a real stage. um, a couple things to note..."

once you finish your boss spiel, the models all start changing and leave one by one. you make sure to thank them all before they leave, and in a few minutes it's just you, jen, and san left.

"seonghwa didn't wanna stick around?" you ask jen.

"you scared him," she replies. "he left so fast i'm surprised he didn't leave a trail of smoke."

"i'll talk to him," you brush it off. "keep your paws off him in my studio though."

"no promises," jen sighs, gathering her things. "i need to go get another pair of heels for our tall girl, so do you need anything else from me before i go?"

"a hug?" you think. "i couldn't have done this without you."

"she loves me!" jen says to san, and he smiles encouragingly.

"you two are amazing," san says. "i don't know how just two people put together such a stunning show."

"lots of work," you say.

"i cried a few times," jen adds.

"we both did," you conclude. "but it was fun, so it was worth it. right?"

"fun, sure!" jen agrees.

"get out of here," you push her playfully. "please rest. no boys."

"you too," jen wags her finger at you. then to san, "don't let her work too hard!"

"i'll try my best," he salutes her, and jen leaves with a laugh. he turns to you and asks, "what can i help with?"

"i need to buy more fabric," you think. "so if you want to grab food while i-"

"no, we'll both grab food, and then fabric," san decides. "or fabric then food. either way, i'm buying your lunch."

"but-"

"nope," he pulls you into his side and walks toward the door. "can't work hard on an empty stomach!"

-

you find yourself enjoying san's company more than you were expecting. he's easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, and he's so kind. he insisted on buying your lunch, even though that was going to be your payment to him for helping. he even tried to buy the extra fabric, claiming it's his fault you had to buy more anyway. you get back to your studio, smiles on both your faces, and get to work.

"so we need these in strips about an inch wide," you explain as you lay a few yards of fabric out on a work table. "tear them into strips, then we'll cut them in half, and then i can start shredding and adding them to the coat. sound good?"

"got it, captain," san nods. "how many do you need?"

"i don't know yet," you make a face. "you're a big guy."

"i'm just so strong," san rolls his eyes, flexing a little bit as he does.

"stop that," you laugh. "get to work. you want music on?"

"yeah, whatever you wanna listen to," san says as he straightens the fabric. you watch as he measures carefully, taking the fabric cutter over the material slowly. he holds up his first strip, looking to you for approval. "is this good?"

"perfect," you tell him. "now make like a thousand more."

"what are you gonna do while i work, hm?" san asks. "i've got a lot to do and you're just gonna watch me?"

"gotta make sure you're doing it right," you reply. "but i need to pack up some of these other pieces, they're getting shipped to the venue in the morning. my least favorite part of the job."

"how many shows have you done now?" san asks, and you fall into comfortable conversation with him while you work. you get most of the collection packed up before you know it, so you walk over to his table to check on his progress.

"not bad for a model," you say as you inspect the pieces. "you could make a mean designer's assistant."

"you in the market for one?" san asks, and you notice how close you are. he's a little taller than you, so all you'd have to do is stand on your toes and- "what are you thinking about?"

"what?" you whisper, taking a step back. san's hand catches your waist, holding you in place.

"what were you thinking about, just now?" he asks again. "you were staring."

"you're a model, i'd expect you'd be used to everyone staring at you," you whisper back.

"you're not everyone," he says softly. his eyes flit down to your lips, and before you can think you lean in and kiss him. it's quick, barely a touch, but you kissed him, and his hand on your waist tightens. when you look up at him, he's blushing. "what was that for?"

"um, for helping me with your outfit?" you reply.

"anything else you need my help with?" san smirks.

"san, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that," you whisper.

"yeah, you pulled back too quickly," he pouts.

"no," you laugh shyly. "no, um, i have a rule that i don't mess around with my models."

"got it," san sighs. "bummer, but i understand."

"i should start shredding these," you say, grabbing a pile of fabric. san's still holding onto you though, so you look at him expectantly. "you gonna let me go?"

"you don't mess with models, ever?" san asks. "or is it just models that are working for you?"

"um, the second one," you think. "but san-"

"then we'll talk about this again when the show is over," san says with finality. "i don't mind waiting."

"as long as you can keep things professional," you tell him.

"says the one who kissed me," san teases.

"whatever," you roll your eyes. "i'm gonna go work on the jacket."

"um, do you think these are enough strips for now?" san asks sheepishly. "i actually have to leave for an audition..."

"my god," you look at the time. "please, go. i'm sorry i kept you for so long."

"i'll come back when i'm done," san says like it's nothing. "i don't really want this show anyway, but my agent booked it, so i have to go."

"that's good to hear," you mumble. "because i don't like sharing."

"make sure you take a break while i'm gone," san points at you accusingly.

"go to your audition," you say as you walk to your office. "i'll be here when you get back."

-

san thinks about you the whole time he's gone. he breezes through the audition and gets an offer before he leaves, but after being in your show this designer seems scattered, unprofessional, and just not as good as you. his collection is fine, but it's nothing impressive. san can't wait to get back to your studio and see the progress on your coat, but when he knocks at the door there's no response. he waits, tries again, and still nothing. he tries the door and it opens easily, so san wanders in calling out your name. he doesn't see you in the work room, but there's a light on in your office.

"y/n?" he calls, stopping at the door when he sees you slumped over your desk, snoring softly. he looks at the mannequin next to you and lets out a gasp. it's more dramatic now with more fabric, and san thinks briefly it'll be even heavier to wear. he doesn't care though. right now, he's more concerned about getting you to someplace you can rest.

"you're back," you mumble, sitting up as you rub your eyes. "i fell asleep."

"i see that," san chuckles. he walks over to you and holds his arms out. "come on, we gotta get you home."

"what are you doing?" you ask, letting out a shriek when san picks you up. you hit his back weakly, but he carries you out of your office, through your studio, turning lights off as he goes.

"where's your bag?" san asks. you point and he carries you still, handing your things to you before doing a sweep of the studio. "ready to go?"

"where are we going?" you mumble into his shoulder. "i was sleeping just fine-"

"i'm taking you home," san says. "you need to sleep in a bed. not hunched over your desk."

"why are you being so nice to me?" you whisper as you nuzzle into him further. he doesn't reply, but you wouldn't hear it anyway. you drift off in his arms, only waking up when san slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

"you know how to get home from here, sleepyhead?" san asks as he ruffles your hair. you type your address into your phone, handing it to him before he closes the door carefully to rush to the driver's side. he laughs nervously when he sits down and finds you staring, so he asks, "what? too much?"

"i really want to kiss you again," you admit.

"but you can't," san coos. "remember your silly rules?"

"hmph, i was gonna say screw my rules, but then you made fun of me, so-"

"no, no i take it back!" san cries, but you turn and lay your head against the window. you smile to yourself as san begs you to turn back around, giggling as he tugs on your arm. you pretend to snore and san gives up, but his hand has moved from tugging your arm to just holding your hand. you stay like that the whole way home.

-

the runway show is tomorrow. you still aren't done with san's jacket. and you still aren't sure what to do since you kissed him. jen has ideas, though.

"climb him like a tree," she tells you for the nth time as she helps you unpack outfits at the venue. "he sooo wants you. and you sooo want him."

"doesn't matter who wants who," you mumble as you try to hold at least three pins by your teeth. you're securing a new zipper to your favorite dress. it wouldn't be a runway show without things falling apart last minute, and you could have punched a wall when you unpacked this dress to find the zipper literally holding on by a thread.

"the show is tomorrow, y/n," jen says sternly. "you can't hide behind your silly 'no models' rule for much longer."

"i won't," you assure her. she looks at you surprised, but she can't ask any follow ups because there are voices coming from the entrance.

"hello?" seonghwa calls out. you yell back that you're backstage, and when he appears he immediately finds jen to pull her into a hug.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him. "you don't have a fitting today."

"i brought him for moral support," san says from behind you. he's so close, and you didn't hear him come up, so it makes you jump. his hands fly to your waist, trying to soothe you, but the touch makes you jump too. "why are you so skittish?"

"i'm stressed," you respond, stepping away so you can find his coat. you look over your shoulder as you tell him, "the jacket still isn't done."

"what?" he whines. "do i need to tear more fabric?"

"no," you laugh. "just come here." he joins you further among the mess that is your collection, following closely behind you through the maze of clothing racks. you stop by his mannequin, turning to find him still incredibly close to you. "it just needs a clasp. as long as you didn't get broader over night."

"no promises," he smirks before pulling his shirt off. "can you help me get it on?"

"you've never needed my help before," you frown as you try avoid staring at his chest.

"yeah well, it's like ten pounds heavier now," san says. "and i'm just so weak..."

"bullshit," you laugh, helping him lift the coat anyway. you hold one side for him while he slips his arm in, then help him hold onto the other. "ok, stay here." you scurry off to get your sewing kit, and san finds jen's gaze through the clothes. she gives him a thumbs up and an exaggerated wink, and he stifles a laugh as you come back. you're holding more pins between your teeth, and san cries out. "what?"

"that can't be safe," he says as he reaches for one, but ends up pricking himself. "ouch."

"no touching," you mumble. "and hold the jacket like this." you guide his hands to hold the coat in place, and san watches intently as you work. you have to hand sew extra buttons on to support the new weight, so it takes a while. san tries to talk to you, but he's so worried about the pins in your mouth he can't focus.

"let me hold these," he grumbles, carefully pulling a pin from your lips. he takes the rest and cups them in his hand, accidentally pricking himself again. "ouch."

"that's what you get," you laugh. "you didn't have to hold them for me, i'm an expert at this by now."

"yeah, but if you had pins in your mouth, i couldn't do this," san says as he uses his free hand to cup your chin. he looks down at you with a smile before he kisses you. he kisses you and holds you against him, his lips so soft on yours. you sigh into the kiss, lost in the feeling of having him so close to you. you can feel his heart beating in his chest, and your hand that had been gripping the coat falls to his warm skin. you push him away, a little gasp on your lips when it hits you what's happened.

"what happened to being ok with waiting?" you ask him, and his head falls to your neck, leaving one kiss against your skin before he pulls back.

"i forgot," he whispers.

"well remember at least until i finish these buttons," you tell him.

"and then what?"

"then you gotta show me your walk," you say. the way you look up at him makes san want to kiss you again, but he does his best to refrain. you hold your hand out for the pins, and you put them back in your sewing kit as you say, "in a few minutes, your coat will finally be done."

"can't wait," san hums, his hands back to holding the jacket in place. "but i admit i'll miss having a reason for you to be so close to me."

"i'm sure you'll find more," you mumble, focusing on the last button. when it's sturdy enough to hold weight, you try securing the jacket together just enough for it to stay on san's shoulders. "hands off," you instruct, and san moves his hands from the coat to your shoulders. "hands to yourself."

"aw," he pouts. you start to walk away and he follows, but you tell him to stay put.

"stay there, then walk toward me," you direct him. "i wanna see how it moves now."

"you want me to go full model mode?" san asks. "can you handle it?"

"just show me," you groan, and the cocky grin on san's face should've warned you. it's like he changes into another person, his demeanor completely different. you realize now that the san you know is not model san, because the man before you is...intimidating? you almost back up as he walks toward you, his gait powerful and his stare petrifying. everything is so dramatic and the movement matches the coat perfectly. he still winks at you as he comes closer and turns, moving the coat so each layer of fabric, each shred explodes into an arc before you. san finishes his walk, turning over his shoulder with a shy smile on his face. he's back to the san you know as he asks, "how was that?"

"you're perfect," you stammer out, mimicking your words from the first time san walked for you. "for the collection. for this piece. everything. this is exactly what i imagined."

"good," his smile widens. "and the weight isn't too bad. it's distributed better now."

"good," you cough, trying to calm yourself down. watching that made everything real to you. this show is happening tomorrow. your nerves are hitting you now, and san can tell.

"are you ok?" he asks, rushing to your aide. he looks like he's going to pull you into a hug when you hear jen calling for you somewhere, and you disappear before san gets a chance.

-

the hours leading up to the show are a blur. in the hours leading up to the show, you are a blur. you don't stay still for more than a few minutes at a time. there's just so much for you to do, so many people to talk to, and so many people that need your help. a stylist asking your opinion. a model with loose threads down her back. a man with pleading eyes that you know is watching you from afar, ready to jump in if you collapse from nerves, or exhaustion, or both. you find jen at the accessories table, helping a model find bangles that won't fall off her arm as she walks. you grab onto jen, leaning in closely to rest your head against hers.

"i'm so tired," you whine. "and scared. and sweaty."

"ew, then get off me," jen pushes you away playfully. she finishes up with the model and sends her away before asking, "are you ok though? really?"

"why did i think dressing san without a shirt would be a good idea?" you whisper to her, watching him as he laughs with seonghwa about something. it's like he can feel your eyes on him, because he looks toward you and winks.

"because it is a good idea," jen says. "and he's not gonna be shirtless for long. you need to go help him into the coat, the show's about to start."

"shit," you curse, checking the time. "i have so much to do-"

"wait!" jen shouts, holding you in place. "something's missing."

"my will to go on?"

"no, you need lipstick," jen decides. she digs into the bag at her hip and finds the perfect pink shade for you. it matches your dress (that you designed) and it matches the warm pinks that you sprinkled into the collection. "there. you're ready."

"no i'm not," you mumble. "i didn't get to practice my welcome speech."

"go practice it with san!" jen pushes you in his direction. "five minutes!"

your palms get sweaty the closer you get to san. you're not sure if it's him, or the running countdown in your head reminding you that your show is about to happen. when you finally make it to san, he's alone, and he's smiling at you nervously.

"time for the coat?" he asks. you nod, and he follows you to the mannequin in the back. "how do you feel?"

"like i'm gonna pass out."

"i'll catch you," san jokes.

"arms up please," you squeak out. he helps you lift the coat silently, sliding into it like it's the most comfortable thing in the world. "and just let me secure it..."

"y/n," san whispers. "look at me." you don't listen, fussing over the buttons instead. you're smoothing out the warm pink fabric as san's hands cover yours, stilling them over his chest. "breathe for a second."

"i'm freaking out," you admit, looking up at him. "i have to go out there, and do a speech, and then watch my clothes, my life for the past year, all be judged by these strangers, and-"

"and you've done it before, and you survived," san smiles softly. "you're pretty great at this, in case you didn't know."

"but-"

"nope," he shakes his head. "it'll be great."

"it will," you say unsurely.

"say it like you mean it."

"the show will be great," you declare, and san squeezes your hands before he lets them go.

"and then after the show..." san trails off, and you feel your heart start to race. "i don't know, maybe i could take you out to celebrate?"

"san, i can't think about that right now," you shake your head. "i can't-"

the stage manager starts calling out models for the line up, and san looks away sadly. he nods like he's got his answer and starts to walk away, but you pull him back. you don't say anything, just cup his chin and leave a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"we'll talk after the show," you whisper. the stage manager calls for him again, and he looks at you one more time before he leaves. you let out a nervous breath, checking your reflection in the vanity next to you. it's now or never. you walk up to the side of the stage, and your heart drops to your ass. something is wrong.

"what's going on?" you hiss, walking up to find make up artists swarming san. "this can't be happening."

"you did this," one of the artists whisper shouts back, pointing to san's cheek. fuck. the lipstick. your lipstick left a bright pink mark on his skin. "we don't have time to fix it!"

"then don't," san shrugs. "i like it."

"y/n?" the stage manager looks at you. "we have one minute. are we fixing this?"

"uh, n-no," you stammer, and the crowd disperses, leaving you and san again. "here, i can wipe it-"

"don't," san swats your hands away. "now i'll have a piece of you with me while i walk."

"you're wearing my clothes, you already had a piece of me with you," you tell him.

"yeah, but this one's just for me," he smiles. "plus the lipstick matches my jacket."

"y/n, you're on!" jen grabs you, a gleeful look on her face. "oh, your lipstick is smudged."

"i don't know how you planned that, but i hate you for it," you say as you try to hide your smile.

"i just thought it would be a cute touch for photos later," she smiles as she fixes the smudge and reapplies more. "i didn't know you'd go around kissing him, marking your territory."

"that's not what i did," you blush.

"we don't have time to argue about this," she pushes you toward the stage entrance. "go be great!"

-

you're able to introduce the collection without tripping or fumbling over your words, so you'll call that a win. even bigger win: the collection is a hit. each piece got the reaction you wanted, but the show stopper was definitely san. the crowd hushed when he walked out, and they went wild when he got to the end of the runway with his flourish move he showed you the other night. as you watch the show backstage, you blush when you see the lipstick mark shining under the bright lights.

it ends up being a hit, almost as much as the coat itself. fashion bloggers lauded it as a perfect touch, basically sealing the collection with a kiss. they also speculated about your relationship with san, which certainly wasn't helped by the fact that he held your hand tightly in his as the collection walked the runway all together. san lifted your hand in triumph as you made it to the end of the stage, and he lets go, stepping back so you can have your moment. you soak it in as long as you can take, then scurry back to his side and grab his hand as you run backstage. he lifts you into a hug as soon as the curtain closes behind you, surrounded by cheers and models talking about how great the show was.

"put me down!" you squeal, swatting at san's chest so he'll let you go. "i need to talk to everybody."

"you can do it from up there," san says. you don't think you'll win this one, and he's right. it might be easier to address your models and your team from a few inches higher up.

"first of all, thank you," you say sincerely. "i wouldn't have a show without you all, and i had the best show because of you all. so thank you. if i could make you all vow to only ever work with me forever until the end of time, i would, but that's not ethical. so instead i'll say: you all have a spot in any show i do for the rest of my career. thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou."

the crowd thins out as models get undressed, artists pack up their things, and the stage crew follows everyone around to remind them to clean up after themselves. miraculously, you and san are alone again.

"so," he hums. "i walked good?"

"you didn't trip," you nod.

"everyone loved it," san smiles.

"they loved you," you say, busying yourself with straightening the coat again.

"all i care about is what you thought."

"i've told you already," you start. "you're perfect."

"you say that, but earlier i think you were about to turn me down," san laughs nervously.

"what?" you're confused. "oh, i didn't finish. i was gonna say i can't go out with you tonight, but i'm free tomorrow."

"tomorrow? you'd make me wait so long?" san smirks.

"i have a business dinner to go to tonight," you explain. "so unless you wanna be my arm candy for the people who sponsored the show, then yes, you have to wait so long."

"i'm good at being arm candy," san says. "it's basically my job."

"fine," you shrug. "then put a shirt on and come with me?"

[mixtapedoh]

and it was all yellow | y.j.

welcome back to SVTU ! lost your way? refer to our campus map for directions.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader with guest appearances from c. seungcheol, h. joshua, w. junhui, and more !

word count: ~5.9k genre: neighbors to friends to lovers warnings: language, intermittent Lore Dumping™ (i have to kick us off into svtu somehow), jeonghan is a little shit, light suggestive themes (heavily lampshaded and perhaps only occuring twice?)

☄. *. ⋆

olive's notes: these individual headcanon sets are going to be very ~stream of consciousness~, so bear with me, here. second, cheol and jeonghan are brothers (and there's a secret third brother i'll introduce eventually, don't you worry), also, thank you for stopping by <3. now here's the content you signed up for.

☄. *. ⋆

now playing... ılı.lıllılı.ıllı. ... ⌜ angel baby — troye sivan ⌟

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW ☄. *. ⋆

— it all started when jeonghan realized that jun was loaded.

now, don't get him wrong. it wasn't as though he had befriended jun because jeonghan had been looking for someone rich and easily persuaded. it's not like jeonghan used his ineffable charm to win over the quasi-cryptid that was wen junhui because of jun's apparent legacy funds.

not that jeonghan couldn't have done — he clearly had the persuasion and cunning to do it — he just didn't. jeonghan wasn't in need of someone else's money. please. he was very capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much, he was just also, however, very good at knowing things.

especially those things that could be used to his advantage.

— and well... wen junhui was loaded. wealthy as shit. a classic trust fund baby. a walking dollar sign that just so happened to share classes with jeonghan every year since he started SVTU as a political science major (of arts, of course. he hadn't taken latin in high school to not absolutely crush the romance languages in uni).

— you see, SVTU had this fun little program for long-suffering students interested in the government and manipulating it to their will wherein if you took merger courses — lectures that ate up a hell of a lot of your time and money but gave substantial credit hours that counted for both applied and allied course credit — you could get a jump start on your degree, be offered more opportunities for internship, and explore a subject's "many facets" through "multiple lenses."

to jeonghan, it meant working faster and harder so that he might graduate early and get into the actual politics of pol sci quicker — at a more “genius” and “revolutionary” age.

(half of politics, after all, was being appealing enough to make headlines. there wasn’t time to waste, in the long run.)

to wen junhui it had to mean something different — after all, jun was a pre-law student with a completely different career path from the other party involved (though jeonghan had considered law at one point in time — something he’s not above admitting though certainly not pining after). merger courses for him likely meant an expedited process to law school. but that was truly beside the point. an aside.

— what mattered in the end, was that jeonghan and jun had more than enough shared merger courses to go around, and in the process of things, had gone from strangers to acquaintances, then study partners (blame it on the fact that jun — the altruistic leaning bastard he was — actually tutored in his free time. willingly. as in, not a joke.) to committed group project members, and eventually to that nebulous thing called friendship.

ask them both when that final stage commenced and you’d get varying responses — jeonghan always far more generous than jun in such regards, but almost annoyingly so, like he wanted to be the one leaning more on the ridiculous.

— yes, it was quite a ways into their friendship when jeonghan learned that wen junhui, his sweet jun, was loaded. like, living alone off of campus in his own two bedroom apartment on the wealthy side of the city that prospered from the University Living Aesthetic™, loaded. as in, so loaded he could have easily found more than enough willing bodies to become roommates with him and help pay for the exorbitant expenses but simply decided against it because he hadn’t, and i quote “thought about it before.”

“never thought about it? jun. how much does this place cost?”

and jun had to think for a minute. genuinely think about how much he paid in monthly rent. “i suppose for a month’s rent i pay around… [REDACTED].”

and jeonghan was no stranger to dramatics, to be sure, but anyone else would have gaped the same as him. “[REDACTED]??”

"[REDACTED]."

"...shit."

— yes, jeonghan finding out that jun was loaded, living in a (rather well kept) apartment with an empty room, no roommates, and an assortment of (dying) houseplants that needed care, was truly the beginning of it all.

— after all, while the chaos settled in a year after the fact when he and joshua would finally move in with jun because of circumstances that aren't truly relevant to the here and now, all true origins start a little before dramatic changes. there's always a gentle precursor, something soft that sets the stage. rumblings of change are necessary forefathers to the strength of revolution; jeonghan learning that jun was a walking line of credit with property to his name and a work ethic that would make any professor blush was necessary groundwork for the events that would follow.

and goddamn, if things didn't follow.

— but i suppose, if we're back tracking all the way to jeonghan and shua moving in with jun on one very ill timed sunday (jun had an exam in his special topics in deviance, crime, & the law course the next day), we are also brushing up against jeonghan meeting you.

another precursor to the chaos that would follow. another tremor that would shake the ground and cause things to tumble.

— you also lived in the terraces on 17th and attended svtu. you lived on the same floor as jun — two apartments down from his, no less — and his first week there, you showed jeonghan the campus shuttle routes that passed right outside the complex (he'd come to learn that the domino route was the one you took most often, as it led right to the heart of the university, but the pinwheel route was also a convenient option for evening courses).

— you and jeonghan weren't friends right away. no, you were always a friendly face around the complex and a decent conversationalist when stuck in the elevator together, but it wasn't as though you and jeonghan became fast friends. you were just neighbors for a while; just another person grabbing mail on monday afternoons, stopping at the in-residence coffee shop on bleak wednesday mornings, ordering pizza on saturday evenings and giving joshua a slice after he weaponizes his big, brown eyes.

— and then came The Series of Fire Alarm Mishaps.

— you see, at some point in the middle of the semester, someone new moved into the apartment building, in the same hall as you and jeonghan. at first, you barely even noticed the change, and then they started cooking.

— which wouldn't have been a problem. if they had been good at it.

the first few times the (incredibly loud and not unreasonably sensitive) fire alarms from down the hall had gone off, it had been unfortunate - a mild nuisance that disrupted what jeonghan had been doing, and nothing more. but then, the first few times became multiple, and from multiple, came a pattern. every other day, at least twice, the fire alarm next door would go off. and it would always be at different times - breakfast, the afternoon, early evening, even sometimes at 1:28 in the morning. the fire alarm would sound, and while it would mostly be no longer than a minute or two, it was still enough to be irritating.

you and jeonghan talked about it every time you saw each other in passing, or just so happened to be taking the same shuttle to campus (which happened quite often, anymore, since jeonghan enrolled in an extra course to help him graduate all the sooner). your neighbor and that damn fire alarm. your neighbor and their inability to cook, yet unnecessary dedication to the craft. you both joked about the inevitability of them actually burning the apartment down.

— and then, one day, the fire alarm went off at 2:19, waking jeonghan up out of a dead sleep (he hadn't meant to fall asleep at his desk, and his neck would pay for it all the next day). he heard it, and immediately decided to ignore it, knowing it would stop soon.

but then it didn't.

at about 3.5 minutes of non-stop alarms, jeonghan was annoyed enough that he left his room and staggered into the kitchen for some water, where shua and jun were already waiting around, likely with the same idea (though it was clear that shua hadn't ever fallen asleep, and perhaps jun was in the same boat, though he'd changed into sweats and a light t-shirt).

at about 6 minutes, jeonghan opened the door to see if anyone else was, well... concerned.

and at 13 minutes, he was standing outside in the brisk autumn air, agreeing with jun as he whispered that if there wasn't an actual fire but just their talentless neighbor attempting to cook in the middle of the night, he was going to kill the bastard himself.

— and there, in the middle of all this stupidity — sleepily rocking back and forth from one foot to another — and on the other side of him, was you.

— and, well, when you offered to buy him and the rest of his roommates coffee at the convenience store that was just down the street, not far, he couldn't do much beyond say yes. what was he going to do? decline your offer?

and so all four of you walked to the convenience store and aimlessly wound your way through the almost neon colored aisles. jeonghan used the opportunity to stick to you like glue and get you to open up — about yourself and your roommates, both of whom had gone home for two weeks for (separate) family vacations (not that you were jealous. clearly the superior option was to stay at the apartment, embroiled in course work and standing outside at 2:00 am because of some loser neighbor who can't cook a singular meal without burning the building to the ground, and yet refuses to have anything delivered).

— in the end, the fire hadn't been bigger than something contained in the pan ("thank god," you had said, shaking your hands in lackluster triumph, "i have a physics exam next week. i need those notes more than you know"), but at only 4 months of having a new neighbor, someone new moved in within 2 weeks at most. and, after being neighbors for almost 7 months, you and jeonghan were decidedly friends.

after all, you bought him a triangular gimbap, ice cream, and convenience store coffee. jun had slipped away with just a banana milk (which he promptly paid back the next day), and shua nearly bought out the whole store once the two of you got to talking about the best midnight (and hours after) snacks lining the walls. at the least, he was indebted to you, which could only be solved by more trips to the convenience store with more mindless conversation, and more time for the both of you to endear yourself to the other.

and the way jeonghan saw it, friendship at that point was inevitable. especially when, at the start of the next semester, you and jeonghan both had an early morning class and used the domino route to get to class via campus shuttle.

(and sure, jun had an early class, too, and drove himself to campus everyday, meaning jeonghan could have easily just gotten a ride, but he didn't. for no particular reason, really, he just never did; but one frost bitten morning after a snowstorm, when jeonghan was waiting at the shuttle stop and you stood beside him, bundled up in a thick winter coat and rubbing the tips of your fingers to keep them warm, you turned to him, the cord of the wired headphones the both of you always shared swaying from the movement (a streak of yellow against all this white, the sun in the middle of stark winter), and smiled, "i'm glad you're here with me." and maybe — just maybe — that was reason enough.)

— and thus, for reasons above explained, in the end, it all started with jeonghan learning jun was loaded. if it weren't for that simple knowledge, he wouldn't be anywhere near where he currently stood.

— which was the open doorway of jun's apartment, garbage in hand, falling in love with you.

"what?"

and you at least had the presence of mind to be flustered by it.

jeonghan could laugh, really. "is that my jacket?"

it totally was, and perhaps the way you fiddled with the sleeve of it and scoffed awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes, was the true giveaway that you knew it most certainly was. "i don't know, is it?"

you were met with smug silence, so of course, you'd elaborate.

"i thought it belonged to my ex. i just chose what looked the warmest. it's storming out there — you might want something more than a sweatshirt if you're taking that all the way to cans." you gestured to the garbage bag — a detail jeonghan had almost forgotten at the sight of you in his clothing.

"you think your ex would have bought that?"

of course he wasn't going to take your bait in changing the subject. that would make things easy. you rolled your eyes, spinning your key ring and making it jingle. "hoseok has great style. it's just different from yours."

"and that jacket is more my style than his."

"it is," you conceded. under jeonghan's gaze you stuck one half of the jacket out, towards him. "do you want it now? you'll need it out there."

"i don't think i will. not when i'll have your sunny presence to warm me."

and for a split second your eyes narrowed. you had just come in from the storm — that much was plain to see from the wet of the jacket to the reusable grocery bag in your hand, full of pantry odds and ends. there was no need to go back out, and you and jeonghan both knew it. and not to mention that the invitation (thinly veiled) was unattractive — stay inside where it was warm or brave the stormy weather once more, all for a garbage run?

"race you to the elevator."

— and see, the truth of the fact was, it wasn't as though you made it difficult to fall in love with you (though even if you had, jeonghan would have liked the challenge, perhaps. there's fun in plenty of things). you were generous, a good conversationalist, you bitched about people with jeonghan but still tried to see the best in them, you were knowledgeable about the most random yet oddly applicable things, and for all of his teasing, you put up with him. perhaps enjoyed him.

— it certainly confused seungcheol, to say the least (but don't such things always confuse brothers).

"as someone who's had a lifetime to cherish your personality, there has to be something wrong with this y/n if they're willingly spending time with you. i'm trying to save my soul, putting up with you on the daily. they have no excuse."

"if i'm going to respond to that, you'll have to give me five minutes to run first."

and it ended with jeonghan quickly pushing away from the table, trying to duck out of seungcheol's grasp; but of course, the older brother and president of the boxing club would get him anyway, and through laughter, attempt to knock some humility into jeonghan (it wouldn't stick).

— but no need to focus on all of that, now. after all, this deep into the semester, jeonghan was busy enough without Crippling Thoughts of Romance.

— the worst damage you wrought thus far was making him choke that day you wandered into karaoke club and he was in the middle of a duet joshuji had managed to cajole him into doing on the spot (you swore up and down that you didn't know he was even in the club to begin with, but something about your flustered behavior and shua's glee at the whole affair made him consider otherwise); while it had been a (minor, he claimed) blow to his pride, it was easily pushed aside. jihoon, the bastard, might bring it up on occasion — the one (1) time angel voice yoon jeonghan chokes, and it's all on camera — but other than that, jeonghan? cool as a cucumber.

the last thing he'd do is be awkward around a crush. jeonghan was cool; jeonghan was suave; jeonghan was speaking in the third person because joshuji had been on a self-love bender a few months back and had said daily affirmations into the mirror every morning, and after finding out and teasing him relentlessly for it, jeonghan unfortunately picked up the habit.

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW (CONT.) ☄. *. ⋆

— and now that we've gotten this far, i suppose it's time we bring up Jeonghan Habits™ because there were many, the closer you and jeonghan got to each other, strings of fate drawing you ever nearer, joining you at the hip.

— for one, it seemed that ever since that first unfortunately timed run to the convenience store at hours after-midnight, jeonghan felt comfortable just showing up at all odd hours of the evening, all messy hair and too-big hooded sweatshirts (most stolen from seungcheol, he'd reveal to you one day when you were confused as to just when jeonghan had picked up a love of maltese puppy conventions — enough to get a commemoriative sweatshirt, no less), with the oh-so-enticing offer of going to grab a snack.

he even called it a date, once, when you were wrapped up in three blankets and your fuzzy house slippers, weakly try to convince him to just rummage through you're cupboards instead

"you're so cold you're going to cancel our date? and here i thought we had something real."

(you'd been so flustered by the whole exchange you simply ended up going to the with him, hoping that the act of Just Doing It would buy you time against his rapid fire machine gun comebacks — probably exactly what the fucker had planned in his 4d chessboard of a brain — and jeonghan took the opportunity to file away in his mind the cute expression that crossed your face in the split second that the words hit you fully in the chest and you floundered, wide-eyed into recovery)

— another, of course, was his habit of casually leaving things at your place whenever the two of you hung out; the first few times he left something — his jacket, a pair of sunglasses, necklaces that you don't ever quite recall him taking off to begin with — you promptly returned it with the naive belief that it was a one-off mistake not like to happen again. but it just kept happening, and so eventually, you just stopped returning.

if it were important, jeonghan would have texted you about it — he texted you about all kinds of random things, anyway, his lost socks would be no more strange than texts of ootds or how particularly sparkly his eyes looked that day.

and he never did...

until you started to wear the things he left, of course.

'should i get two of these?' the text came in while you were walking to your next class, taking your sweet time since the weather had cleared up nicely and the campus shuttles were running smoothly — not a single one hand been late all week, a sure change from usual. a moment later your phone chimed again, and jeonghan had sent a picture of a silver ring with a greek key styling. it was cool enough, and fit in nicely with jeonghan's usual style of accessory (not that you were particularly knowledgeable of such things... haha.)

'sure, but why 2?'

'so you can have one of your own instead of stealing it.'

'???!?'

'look at your outfit right now. you're wearing MY necklace. it's been missing for weeks.'

'YOU LEFT IT AT *MY* APARTMENT??????'

'you still have necklaces of your own; didn't have to be mine.'

'😑'

'so what's your ring size?'

'stfu'

— in your defense, you didn't think it was an issue, borrowing the things he'd randomly leave at your apartment. it had started off innocuously enough — seonghwa and momo (your roommates, bless them) needed you to go grab a few last minute ingredients for dinner (they were the ones cooking, so charitably you offered to do the grunt work) and when you couldn't find your own sunglasses, there were jeonghan's, just sitting on your dresser and waiting to be used.

and after that, well... jeonghan had nice style, okay? you were not immune to convenient and accessible clothing. if jeonghan wasn't so forgetful of his own articles of clothing, it wouldn't be the case that you steal his favorite sunglasses and borrow his usual rings and get a little too caught up in the way his cologne lingers on his jackets and night shirts, a smell all-too comforting and somehow tempting...

— you attempted to give the necklace back later that week when you and jeonghan met up to take the domino route to university, but he just shrugged it off and told you that you might as well keep it. he already bought himself another.

and besides. it looked good on you.

— and as for the last of Jeonghan's Habits™ (certified and trademarked, of course, everything jeonghan did was protected by common law)... well... the discovery of this one came later, at a time you weren't expecting it, and so perhaps that explains why it makes you as flustered as it does.

— see, it's of no surprise that yoon jeonghan is clingy in a very positive sense.

being friends with jeonghan is always being kept in the loop, having an ongoing dialogue about most everything, doing lot of Things together and always knowing that if there's something you're even thinking of doing, jeonghan has already cleared his schedule in anticipation of going to do said thing alongside you.

— what surprised you, but really shouldn't have (so perhaps the right word is simply astonished, flustered, made giddy by the realization of), was that he was also very cuddly. and very hard to be talked out of, no less.

— and like, okay, sure, it was kind of hypocritical of you to be taken aback when you'd been indulging jeonghan of his affinity for physical touch for quite some time, now.

the surprise hugs whenever he caught you waiting for the campus shuttle or simply Minding Your Own Business, his inclination towards taking your hand to make you walk a little faster when the two of you were going convenience store diving (yes, again), the quite literal poking and prodding whenever he was attempting to get you to change your mind and agree with his worst impulses... it was all pretty damning, in retrospect. but it never really fazed you: jeonghan's cuddly sort of behavior.

though you had gotten a smug kind of glee whenever you initiated contact and jeonghan's cheeks would warm to a beautiful shade of pink before he'd counter his own seeming embarrassment with a comment like "aaahhhh y/n, you're so familiar, what would others think if they saw you?"

randomly touch jeonghan's forearm, whether to pull him closer for some reason or another or just to softly massage the skin while you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone (instagram scrolling was sacred time you and jeonghan shared — then you didn't have to send him the reel with your comments, you could just tap him on the shoulder and show him). they way jeonghan would get all shy at the touch — like maybe he felt some of those butterflies that perpetually fluttered about in your stomach whenever he was around — was all the satisfaction you could ever need.

— so yes, you were quite used to clingy jeonghan. but cuddly? you had never quite strayed into full cuddle territory... until you did.

— that fateful night, you had lovingly been given notice via a very abrupt group text that you would not be able to return to your apartment for the evening (someone was going to have company over, doing... things that familiar company do) and when you had told jeonghan of your plans to join seonghwa in his trip to the computer rooms at crescent hub (they were open 24 hours and while it was based on reservation, you were almost always able to get a seat), he offered you come to his apartment instead.

either that, or i guess you could spend your time watching the gaming club host whatever tournament they had going on — apparently jun was planning to be gone for Quite Some Time (as a senior member of the club) and shua was there... for moral support? that part was unclear, to be quite honest, but it wasn't as though shua ever needed a reason to be Busy and Outgoing, so it didn't quite matter much, in the end.

"why aren't you at crescent hub with your roommates, then?"

"and encourage them? ah... don't make me look soft."

and you're sure that the way you roll your eyes can be heard through the phone.

"i had an assignment to finish." / "you had work to finish."

"but! it's all been submitted now."

"then i'll meet you."

— after all, it's not like you were a stranger to jun's apartment — you'd hung out there plenty of times as your bond with jeonghan deepened and your friendship to shua and jun grew — and they did have a rather comfy couch... you were almost certain jeonghan's offer implied and unspoken 'you can at least get some comfortable sleep on our vertiable cloud of a couch when i'm done prying at the finer details as to just who momo decided to bring home.'

you both, after all, had a deep-seeded delight for gossip.

— and when you got there, it was exactly what you expected: jeonghan had seemingly raided the pantry finding ingredients so the two of you could make dakdoritang — excepting the carrot, of course.

despite his seeming love for convenience store runs and general lazy attitude toward preparing his own meals, cooking together seemed to be something jeonghan enjoyed lately — or at least, that's what you surmised. to you, it seemed that one day jeonghan woke up and chose cooking as a new hobby.

if you were to ask jeonghan, he would brush it off, of course, probably saying something about his mom visiting and praising jun's affinity for cooking and there was no way jeonghan could let the bastard win — but really all it had taken was one (1) absentminded hand on his chest from you and a "hannie, can you pass me the garlic cloves?" for him to make cooking with you a new personality trait of his. go figure.

— and so the two of you made your stew while debating which movie you should watch when you were done. you ended up compromising on some drama that you'd seen people claim was so bad it was good, and it really was. the cringe,,,, the mutual yelling at the tv,,,,,,, threatening the lives of fictional characters,,,,,,, talking over whole dialogue scenes because you had a brilliant rewrite in mind and jeonghan simply couldn't resist the way you looked when there was an earnestness in your eyes and an opinion on your lips,,,,

it was quite late, indeed, before you even knew it. and when you switched the tv to a music video you really wanted to show jeonghan, the autoplay sort of took over, and your mind sort of shut down... drifted off to sleep.

— you woke up at some point in the early morning; the sound of the lock clicking and the door opening wasn't the sound you were used to, in your apartment two doors down, and it was just enough to snap you awake momentarily, still half in dream yet with one foot in reality.

it was just shua and jun, and they whispered an apology before padding off to their respective rooms (jun his own, shua his shared room with hannie), clearly worn out from their gaming activities.

— but that little push to semi-wakefulness was just enough for you to take stock of where you were, and you noticed belatedly that jeonghan had never left to go back to his room. you were both sleeping on the couch, legs intertwined; jeonghan was resting his head on your shoulder and your hands were reaching out, as if almost to give him a subconscious hug.

— the embarrassment ran through your nervous system almost instantly, and when you made to slowly and gently move your limbs so you were less... interwoven, jeonghan stirred and, still sleeping, pulled you back towards him. perhaps even closer than before.

you couldn't help yourself. a giggle escaped you; perhaps half nerves, mostly endearment. jeonghan stirred again and the sound and you covered your mouth, not wanting to wake him.

he stilled soon enough, and before drifting off again, you kissed him on the forehead.

— when you fully woke up the next morning, jeonghan had already began his day, but he didn't even try to hide the fact that the both of you had unwittingly unlocked a new feature in this friendship of yours. he sort of just... took the night prior as a confirmation that cuddling was on the list of approved actions and refused to let go of you, after.

not that it bothered you, of course.

it just seemed that the butterflies in your stomach were given wild energy at this new development; all your strategies for calming them suddenly ineffective.

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW (CONT.) ☄. *. ⋆

— so.

if you had asked jeonghan at any point in his life if he were good at manipulating, his answer would be an unequivocable yes.

deceit? of course.

scheming? obviously.

lying? naturally.

blackmailing? most assuredly.

gaslighting, gatekeeping, girlbossing? undoubtedly.

changing criteria? yes.

moving goalposts? clearly.

hiding the apparent? well...

— see, the thing is... you get so good at the others that concealing the obvious isn't exactly necessary. everyone might know to be wary of the scheming, cheating, self-serving yoon jeonghan, but it didn't change the fact that he was so astute at the rest of it, image didn't exactly matter.

and besides, why save face when it was so fun to see people accuse him of what they were all very aware?

— so yes, jeonghan was quite skilled at all manner of deception. the one facet he was not so adept in was hiding his feelings toward the matter.

— thus, it should be no surprise that everyone and their mother knew jeonghan had a crush.

and it was only getting worse.

— don't ask jun when he put the dots together — he was more emotionally intellectual than he let on most of the time — and don't ask joshuji when either — that fucker had this quirk where he joked about something before it had real honest basis, but in some way only attributed to the gift of clairvoyance, he always seemed to be right. if you were to ask joshua, he'd likely recall the first time he had looked at jeonghan and wiggled his eyebrows and call that he knew then (he didn't; at least, not really).

— as for s.coups... well, don't ever ask cheol anything about jeonghan. he'd rather die than give it to you straight.

please. when he could embarrass jeonghan? seungcheol lives for that shit.

after all, what else are older brothers for?

— so yes, it was obvious to those close to him that jeonghan was in the long-suffering limbo of Having A Thing For Your Best Friend But Not Acting On It, and it had been apparent for months.

— after all, it felt like centuries ago that joshua had offered to play matchmaker for jeonghan and you — the veritable apple of his eye — and set the two of you up on a date.

it had been some lazy morning and jun nearly spit out his breakfast.

"you'd both love it! i'd get jihoon to play something romantic on the violin; well, maybe recorder—"

cue jun choking once more.

"and you could be there waiting in full suit and tie."

"with couples rings waiting in the bread basket." and joshua's eyes went comically and maniacally wide at jun's inclusion.

"ah, cheol would crash any date like that."

"but then y/n could get his blessing!"

— at some point, jun was at his wits end.

in his defense, it was him who had to see the two of you be all sweet and love-struck all the time, giggling and teasing each other on his couch in his apartment while all he's trying to do is eat a sorry excuse of a subway sandwich (eat fresh.) before jetting off to his internship again.

if you had to see that shit while eating soggy bread you'd be annoyed, too.

one more "aigoooo" while jeonghan squishes your cheeks, and you bat him away with a roll of your eyes and jun would take a knife out of the block behind him.

— especially when jeonghan started calling you "angel" at every chance he got. had jun's eye twitching, it did. never had he regretted getting roommates until jeonghan fell in love.

one day jun learned that the phrase "get a room" made at least one of you self conscious enough to at least tone it down, and he never stopped weaponizing it, since.

— of course, overtime jun's protests became background noise, but once, when your roommates and jeonghan's all went to the museum of fine arts together to celebrate the end of finals week (it was free admission so long as you had your svtu activities card), jun had deadpanned his new favorite phrase in the middle of the outdoor conversation area. jeonghan had turned to you grinning, like it was the excuse he'd been waiting for all day, and after a lighthearted "shall we?" you grabbed his hand and the two of you pranced off to explore the sculpture terrace.

jeonghan had raised an eyebrow at your choice of exhibit, but you pulled him over to a sculpture of a human figure with black wings and flashed a smile: “it’s not a private room, but i think it works.”

“if you’d prefer it, i’m sure there’s a custodial closet we could go to instead. i bet there's one right outside, even.”

you snorted. “and if i did kiss you? what would you do then?"

— you stunned him into silence. him. yoon jeonghan. 

— right as he was about to recover and shoot back some smartass comment, you laughed — the sound clear and playful, bright and radiating with warmth — and then you wandered to where they showcased student work.

— umm... uhhh... WHATTHEFUCKWEREYOUDOING WHATTHEFUCKWASGOINGONNNNNN

“angel.”

you hummed absentmindedly, only half hearing jeonghan through the internal screaming reverberating in your skull.

“y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”

he was closer now, if you focused, you were sure you could feel him, inching closer, right behind you, just to your right…

— he kissed your cheek: half on the corner of your lips, half on the soft of your skin.

— you couldn’t help yourself. you turned.

“if you were bold enough to kiss me here, i’d kiss you back. then i’d be scandalized, ‘how forward!’”

your mouth opened: in shock, in delight, in laughter, in a heavenly mix of the three. jeonghan just stood there, all self-satisfied grin.

“you could waste your time finding a comeback, or you could be forward.”

“i think i have time for both.”

☄. *. ⋆

end of file .

SVT (sophrosyne; virtù; truth) University hopes you've enjoyed your stay !

[archetypal-archivist]

Riddle x Yuu - Secret Garden

In which there's an enchanted place in Riddle's backyard where the edges of two worlds blur together. In the walled garden that resides there, Riddle meets Yuu.

( @yuri-is-online I blame you for this.)

Thought: Consider a Riddle/Yuu story with Secret Garden elements. A very young Riddle whose mother decides he needs time outside at least a few times a week so she sends him out into their gardens to do his homework. Riddle enjoys the sun well enough, the weeks flow more gently, a honey-slow, sun-sweet pace. Then one summer day when it's just a little too hot to be outside for long, one of his work sheets catches on the wind and blows away.

Riddle chases it and ends up in the rose maze, eventually stumbling into a place where there are walls and a gate, almost fully overgrown in thick red blooms. Riddle is curious and the shade of the overgrown garden looks inviting, so he slips past the gate to do his work at the picnic table he can just make out inside. Only, when he steps through, there's another child sitting at the table- Yuu.

At first it's all accusations and competition, then Riddle tries to make Yuu go away with magic and that flips the conversation on its head because Yuu is very convinced that magic isn't real. Riddle can hear his mother calling (Yuu can hear it too) and tells Yuu to come back tomorrow, he'll prove magic is real. And despite a brief scolding from his mother, Riddle is indeed able to come back tomorrow, bringing with him some of his textbooks.

Yuu comes back too, only they have a few books of their own on technology. Riddle is astounded by the illustrations of planes, the way metal wraps over wooden framework, the precise mathematics that go into the elegant curve of the propeller. Yuu is astonished by the production of flame from thought, flowers from incantation. How incredible it would be, to have coal-less stoves and fields of wheat springing up on demand!

Both very convinced, Riddle and Yuu spend weeks getting to know each other and participating in cultural exchange. Helping each other with their homework makes it go twice as quickly, though they often have to take breaks to explain some concept or another, such as health potions and quinine.

Yuu and Riddle also experiment with the magic of the walled garden, insisting on the scientific method as two kids understand it to try and figure out the rules. They bring different toys/objects into the garden, try standing at the gate and yelling for attention, Riddle even sneaks his broom in to see if there's a vertical limit. What they discover is that anything brought into the garden will stay, and things can travel outside the walls, but their respective yelling is only heard in their respective worlds (Riddle's mother got worried but only heard her son's voice) and once Riddle flew up past a certain point, he could no longer see Yuu. They just flickered from view, vanishing in a blink, which freaked Riddle out so much he immediately flew back down and crushed Yuu into a hug.

Riddle asks Yuu about him maybe traveling back to their world to visit as he really wants to see the planes they speak of so fondly, but both are hesitant because they aren't sure of what it would do to him. Yuu and Riddle make do with playing make believe, tying fake wings to Riddle's broom and Riddle taking them up, careful of the vertical limit.

Yuu, wistful, wants to fly freely, not having to worry about speed or limited space, but both are too cautious to actually do anything risky. At last, they conclude that things can be brought into the garden but nothing from the other world can fully travel out of it to the opposite realm. Only when Yuu and Riddle are in the garden together can they see each other.

Then Chenya and Trey meet Riddle and Riddle's world expands that much more. He knows plenty about the world beyond his own and he feels so grown up compared to his new friends, but there's still so much he doesn't know and Riddle takes to learning about tag and tarts and playtime with aplomb. He tries to introduce them to stuff from beyond their world, like fizzy lemonade (he uses a minor air spell to 'carbonate' it, give him a break, he's, like, nine) and matchbox cars. They don't really get it though and Riddle realizes many times over that his life is very, very different from everyone else's.

Between his mother's rules and Yuu, no one else is like Riddle at all. It suddenly feels very isolating, and not one to be helpless, Riddle drags Chenya and Trey to the secret garden. Yuu is there and introductions go well enough but it's clear that Trey and Chenya don't really believe the duo, thinking it's the pair playing pretend. Both are very annoyed by this and it's the only interaction the quartet have before Riddle's mother catches Riddle at the Clover bakery.

House arrest in effect, Riddle feels terrible being inside, so used to the freedom of fresh air and sunshine, doing his homework at his own pace with a companion to help him. Now he's trapped under his mother's attention and it's stifling. It's a whole three months before he's allowed to do his work outside again and his broom is still confiscated (the wings long torn off), but he'll take it.

Riddle beelines for the walled garden only to find a small white rose bush, a pile of letters, and no Yuu. He feels torn over doing his work or reading the letters first and he eventually decides on work, tense and anxious the whole time. A couple hours later- still no Yuu. Riddle reads the letters and tries not to cry.

Apparently, Yuu had thought something had happened when he didn't come back for over a week and had taken to writing him letters so he'd remain up to date with their daily life. They call him their friend, too, starting each with 'to my dear friend Riddle' and ending with sincere wishes for his happiness and safety. The pleas for his safety grow more desperate with each letter and it's revealed that political tensions in Yuu's world are growing. It's leery enough at home, they want him and his world to be okay too. The white rose bushes were apparently from their own world, a gift since his last name was Rosehearts and something to remember them with.

Riddle is deeply touched and also deeply fed up with his mother so he resolves to wait for Yuu so they can spend time together again. The hours slip past until it's early evening but Riddle is too stubborn to give up. As the first stars creep over the horizon, Yuu finally appears, letter in hand. They burst into tears at the sight of him and Riddle finds himself crying too, running to hug his friend, work forgotten.

Riddle asks Yuu again if he can travel to their world with them in a fit of impulse but Yuu denies him. They explain sorrowfully that in a few days, they'll be going away to boarding school as it's unsafe where they currently live. However, they have a few days- they can make the most of them. Yuu's eyes burn with resolve and they run through the gate, coming back with an old canvas tent and a bunch of water, snacks, and books.

The duo camp out in the secret garden for two days, Riddle so caught up in enjoying the time and committing every bit of it to memory that he forgets his mother entirely. Indeed, it's the least stressed he's been in a while. At the dawning of the third day, Riddle hears his mother calling for him, genuine panic in her voice, and he realizes he has to go. He begs Yuu to be safe, Yuu asks the same of him, and neither can fully commit to the promise, Riddle grimly aware that his mother is going to be furious with him.

He plucks a white rose off the bush to tuck into his lapel, a last bit of armor to remind him he's got people in his corner, and leaves the garden, refusing to look back. (Unbeknownst to him, it stays visible, having become 'part of him', a facet of who he is). Quietly he walks up to his mother, face as blank as he can make it, and when she sees him, she goes white with panic. She grabs Riddle's hands and he looks too: in the cradle of her fingers, his own are nearly transparent.

The next hour is a flurry of activity, Riddle's mother sitting him in front of a mirror in the library as she frantically researches what could have happened to her son. Sure she's pissed at him but this takes precedence. Riddle stares at his reflection, fearful and awestruck, and realizes that this is likely the result of eating so much food not from his world.

Outside the boundaries of the garden, you can't see or hear things from the other world. Having eaten nothing but food from Yuu's realm for a few days, his cells have started to assimilate more materials from that world than his own. (The water is the real culprit, the replacement rate is faster there). As such, bits of him have gone translucent, no longer visible to Twisted Wonderland.

It scares Riddle a little but this mess seems to scare his mother more. She does come across an 'answer', one that makes sense to Riddle's world. Borrowing from Snufkin and the Moomin Trolls- unloved, unwanted children will eventually turn invisible, trying to be unseen and unheard so they can be good, good enough to be loved. This isn't the case at all, Riddle is indeed loved a lot even if it's been demonstrated in a damaging way, but it's the only thing that makes sense to Riddle's mother and so it must be true.

Riddle's mother apologizes to Riddle and asks him outright if he's happy. Riddle... Isn't certain what to do with this information. It feels like a scam; he could ask for his freedom in this moment and have it granted, could ask for Chenya and Trey, ask for tarts at supper and hugs at breakfast, and surely he'd get them. In the same measure though, his mother is laboring under a falsehood, to ask anything now would be to take advantage. And really, can he truly say he has been unhappy under his mother's rule? Perhaps not always happy, but certainly not miserable.

Riddle- compromises. He doesn't tell her the truth, nor does he tell her of how oppressive she can be. He merely tells her that yes, he's happy, but he wishes he could fly again. As expected, she grants this and actually pulls back some on her harshness, being quicker to praise. As expected, the invisibility fades.

However, she micromanages him even harder in trying to make Riddle feel loved, her attention on him almost always. Anything he shows interest in, he gets classes on, and Riddle learns not to show his interest in too many things at once or else he gets overwhelmed with work.

The only breaks he gets are tending to his personal garden, during flight (constrained though it is to the manor grounds) and horseback riding. The garden is where he tends to the roses he cultivates from the seeds he took from Yuu's bush, and fed on Twisted Wonderland soil and water, they bloom visibly for all to see. As for flying, it reminds him of his flights with Yuu and their shared dream to share the sky together; Yuu in the cockpit of their own plane, him on his broom. They'd wanted to race, once...

Now, horseback is the only way he can get that same rush, able to go as far and as fast as his mount allows. It feels like freedom and Riddle falls in love with the sport. In the back of his mind though, Riddle always wonders how Yuu is doing; if they're safe, if they're happy. If they're alive.

In this way years pass and though Riddle changes, it's not enough. He goes to NRC with a potted white rose in his hands, a broom in his baggage, and a flower on his lapel, and he still becomes house warden in a week. Trey greets him warmly, though he admits to barely recalling Yuu, thinking them an imaginary friend of Riddle's. This puts a little distance between Trey and Riddle, but it's just one more straw in the mountain of awkward that makes up Riddle's tyrant tendencies and Trey's guilt complex.

Second year rolls around and the night before his departure for NRC, Riddle enters the secret garden in a fit of nostalgia. To his surprise, Yuu is there, on their knees and sobbing. He immediately runs and sweeps them into a hug, frantically checking them over for injuries, which only makes them sob harder. It takes a while for them both to calm down and once they do, Yuu wants nothing to do with explaining themself, only wanting to hear of Riddle's exploits.

Riddle hesitantly tells them, then insists on having Yuu's story. In fits and start and more tears, they do manage to tell it; their world is at war and they aren't safe. Their boarding school had been far from the action, but not far enough, and now the bombers are bearing down on them. They'd panicked when the sirens went off and are now hiding here, hoping that the magic of the garden will keep them safe.

Horrified, Riddle questions them but Yuu has no answers. The whys of war, the usage of planes for fighting, Yuu hadn't cared to learn and Riddle can't blame them. At last, Riddle asks Yuu if they're scared, and Yuu explains they're terrified, Riddle asks further if they're scared of planes now.

Yuu says no, calms down, and begins to explain that flying is *theirs*. A plane of their own, under their own control, affecting only themself and free of all others? They want that, they want to *fly*. It's their dream. Planes are only evil when people use the gift of flight to hurt others.

Mentally, Riddle makes the connection between Yuu's thoughts on planes and his own rules- wonderful when he makes his own rules and follows them, the problem comes when he uses the power of rules on others in a way that hurts them. It's almost an idle thought and one quickly pushed aside when Yuu goes still in his arms, oddly placid. They sit up, smile at him, then very quietly ask him to leave.

Riddle can hardly believe what he's hearing and Yuu repeats themself, asking Riddle to go home. Riddle furiously points out that Yuu is under bomb threat still and Yuu explains that's exactly why he has to go, go *now*, before it's too late. Things from their worlds can still enter the garden, don't you see? If the garden is struck, the bomb would kill them both. Riddle needs to *leave*!

Riddle's heart cracks in two as an icy sickness takes hold of his gut, making him swallow back tears. He hates this, really and truly, and in desperation he asks Yuu to come with him, already knowing it's futile. If Yuu were to come with, they'd be invisible, unheard, and while perhaps feeding them food from Twisted Wonderland would help, there's no guarantee they'd be solid enough for that to work. How was a ghost supposed to eat a sandwich? Were ghost sandwiches a thing?

Yuu gently pushes Riddle away and momentum drives Riddle to his feet, backing away a few steps. Yuu stands too, and turns towards the gate, looking back at Riddle with a teary smile and a nod. Riddle shakily nods back, silent, and they both turn to go.

Just as Riddle is about to step through the gate into his world, he hears a dull roar of what Yuu had described to be sound of a plane overhead. He closes his eyes tight, pushes on, and the sound cuts out as he leaves the garden. It's silent but for the birds in the trees. A minute passes. Two. It's all Riddle can do to keep from passing out, his knees locked to keep him standing. Time passes and eventually Riddle can bring himself to open his eyes, turning to look at the garden behind him. He doesn't see Yuu there, knows he wouldn't anyway, not without stepping into the garden proper, and he can't bring himself to do that yet.

With the ease of long practice, Riddle turns and walks back home, certain enough of the path that even in his grief he's sure in his steps. He... Keeps his eyes closed, for most of the trip; Yuu's smile lingers in his mind.

Leaving for NRC after is an awful affair but one Riddle drags himself through regardless. Grief and exhaustion war for dominance in his heart and most of that transmutates into anger, his temper fraying faster than ever before. Even his mother is a little shocked by how quick he is to snap, as Riddle had done just that over the toast at breakfast.

Riddle's heart only cracks further when he finds himself a ghost in his own body come his arrival at school, collaring people left and right on impulse when Riddle knows he knows better. There's something particularly awful about falling into old habits that you know are damaging, but being unable to stop yourself at the same time. Here, Riddle knows he's hurting his dorm mates, he just can't bring himself to care.

Indeed, it's all he can do to keep from burning the Yuu who emerges from the coffin during the NRC sorting ceremony. At first he'd thought it was his Yuu, they'd looked identical in all ways, but this Yuu didn't recognize him. (And, his mind whispers treasonously, his Yuu is dead.)

As such, Riddle can't bring himself to believe that they are the same person as his friend, and he slides further into grief and rage, intent on ignoring the situation. Canon proceeds apace, only Riddle keeps up with the white roses left to him by Yuu, magic keeping his desk plant in bloom so that a new flower can grace his lapel every day. He tries to keep the sorrow from his face, his eyes firmly away from the familiar stranger who looks so much like his Yuu.

When Riddle overblots, white rose on his chest, the last surge of magic he does as a finishing move has the flower taking up the magic. It explodes outwards, sending tendrils of white roses in all directions, students scattering in their wake. Vines crawl up the walls, dig into the ground, and bind Riddle to the earth so that Trey and the others can get the last blow in.

As the overblot monster disappears, Riddle slumps to his knees and Yuu catches him, memories rising up to meet them both. See, Yuu had woken up in Twisted Wonderland with no memories save for a vague nostalgia. Now seeing so much of their life through Riddle's eyes and hearing about their life before NRC, their mind begins to recall their past and Yuu remembers themself, and more important to the moment, Riddle. The two friends burst into tears and Yuu apologizes for forgetting while Riddle sobs about being so cruel, for not meaning a lick of it and how sorry he is.

This, of course, alarms everyone around them, and the pair are promptly bundled off to the nurse's office, something a bit tricky as Riddle refuses to let Yuu go. Both fall fast asleep, exhausted from the day's events, and only awaken when the moon is high in the sky and everyone else is long gone.

The rose on Riddle's lapel is the first thing Yuu sees as they blink awake, the petals edged in fine silver from the light of the moon outside their window. The smell is pleasantly sweet, bringing to mind the bush they'd given to Riddle so long ago. Was this a flower from that same bush?

Yuu's heart squeezes at the thought and they hesitantly reach to touch the bloom, then move to press their hand to the space above Riddle's heart. Tilting their head up, they're surprised to see Riddle looking at them, something terrible and grieving in his eyes. Emptily, Riddle tells Yuu that he thought they were dead. Yuu chokes back a sob and quietly admits that they think they were; they're still not sure how they ended up in Twisted Wonderland.

Riddle nods as if expecting such an answer, then gently gathers up Yuu's hands in his own, holding them, unable to meet their gaze as he recaps his life for the past many years. Yuu ends up weeping at the realization that Riddle had adopted their fondness for flight as his own, as well as how stifled Riddle has been all these years. How much their friend has suffered in their absence! And then, their arrival with no memories? Is it any wonder that Riddle overblotted?

Through their tears, Yuu fiercely tells Riddle that he's forgiven and more than that, he's free now. He can act however he wishes! Riddle's own cheeks are wet as he points out that Yuu is too- forgiven for dying, for leaving him, because it was never something either of them could control. He's just so, so glad they're back.

And- and now they can do all the things they'd wanted to do together! Try new foods, visit the places in Riddle's books, they can even fly for real! Yuu's face lights up at that and Riddle finds himself smiling too, heart full up on love and joy at the thought of flying with his friend. He tries to get up, ready to go grab his broom right that moment, but his ribs twinge and he falls back into bed with a groan. Only, he falls on top of Yuu, who wraps their arms around him on instinct.

This brings a brilliant flush to both their faces and Yuu shakily jokes that perhaps they should get some sleep. They feel more than see Riddle nod and Yuu shoves their face into Riddle's hair, suddenly realizing that their childhood friend had grown up. Riddle was so much bigger in their arms now but the scent of his shampoo is the same... Yuu flushes again, brighter.

(Riddle was still awfully handsome, too.)

Time passes, the duo heal, and while neither explain to anyone their bond, everyone can see that Yuu and Riddle are deeply connected in some way. The white roses that'd sprung up from Riddle's overblot had proven themselves impossible to remove so Heartslabyul had simply incorporated them, weaving the vines into the rest of the garden to make a seamless whole.

And, on the day of Riddle's apology Unbirthday, Riddle grabs his broom, Yuu's hand, and smiles for real for the first time in far too long. It feels like flying when Yuu and his new friends smile back, and when he kicks off into the sky, Yuu's arms around his waist, he never wants to come back down.

[artbyblastweave]

Whatever else I may say about the writing of Fallout 3, Oasis is excellent on every level. Genuinely totally siloed from the main quest and the rest of the game world's communities, isolated from any area of the game world that you'd be likely to pass through on your way to another quest objective (maybe Fort Constantine, but you'd still have to detour pretty heavily.) Despite that, allusions to the place are seeded throughout the game- Three Dog talking about it on the radio as an urban legend, a single insane wastelander ranting about it before dropping dead in front of you. One of your rewards for completing the Arefu quest is that you'll have a cluster of locations in Arefu's general area marked on your map if you hadn't found them already; one of those locations contains an exiled, berserk Treeminder with coordinates to Oasis on his person, albeit without any explanation of what Oasis actually is. Actually finding the place is a very self-directed activity even if they hand you everything you'd need to get there. I feel as though there's a level of restraint on display from Bethesda here that you wouldn't get for settlement with a named quest these days- an asset as visually unique as Harold would absolutely end up with top billing in the main quest, you wouldn't be allowed to miss him. And anyway, once you get there, I dunno, there are interesting parallels. Inasmuch as Fallout 3 has any kind of actual deliberate theme, I'd argue that the theme is that you can't run from your problems, and you can't stick your head in the sand. A lot of the settlements you visit over the course of the game have the vibe of a whole bunch of people who are just sort of holed up and waiting to die, even the outwardly successful ones like Megaton and RIvet City. The entire main plot is triggered by James deciding to try and do something about the state of the world instead of just waiting to die of inbreeding along with everyone else under the Overseer's thumb. Everywhere you visit is experiencing some kind of watershed moment- something's gotta give. And then you get to this place that's outwardly a pretty sweet setup, but only because they're obscure- and that's not sustainable. You found this place, other people are going to, the only actual choice on the table is on what terms they're going to come into contact with the outside world and on what timetable. The possibility of reforestation is complementary to Project Purity; they make a big point of the fact that Harold can't do jack about the irradiated water even if the restoration of greenery would still be a major net positive. And it's not hard to draw a connection between the ending where you convince Harold to keep living because the Treeminders are dependent on him, and the whole "abandonment issues" beat that the Lone Wanderer is given room to have with their own father- you don't get to duck out on the world that easy, James Number 2. Lots of interesting little parallels swirling around in there, if you're an overly charitable apophenic such as myself

[rowanthestrange]

Genuinely though, who could Mrs Flood actually be? “Always hiding myself away” is definitely a relevant line.

What do we know: She can see the cameras. While hiding she still has her memories and can recognise a TARDIS. She is keeping around the Sundays. Is first seen after Ruby gets off a bus. Asks “Isn’t it your birthday, love?” to Ruby but doesn’t wish her a happy one. She is trusted enough to keep an eye on Cherry. She has arguments with the neighbour even when she knows the problem isn’t his fault. Fit - runs. Sat outside her house with blanket on lap, watching the TARDIS - not waiting for the Doctor to come out but Ruby to go in and leaves as soon as she does. Is secretly holding something in her hand and this is the best glimpse:

Looks like a notebook with those metal-edge things perhaps? It’s hidden in the blanket the rest of the time, this is the only shot of it I can see. She puts it down along with the blanket. (Trainspotter?)

She is given an absolutely banger theme.

However she is not particularly nice and sweet to Cherry, who when saying she wants a cup of tea is told “well we don’t always get what we want”. Didn’t say please admittedly. Cherry is supposed to take tablets which just the mention thereof seems concerning. She is aware what is going on with Sutekh and status as The One Who Waits. Refers to them as a storm ala the Doctor. But isn’t interfering just watching.

Instinctively with all that fourth wall breaking, you do kind of have to jump to Iris Wildthyme. Who has been sketchy before admittedly, though the vibes seem a little riskier here, and she’s not much of a planner - like the Doctor just bimbling around in her smaller on the inside bus, usually off her tits. We have seen the bus around and they’re still using one for their promos and at the release events.

But what alternatives are there? The Master is very accounted for (and can’t imagine her even claiming to do fun runs) but Missy energy is ok. The Rani is opposite vibes (if you’ve not seen Classic Who, Tecteun but the Doctor’s schoolmate instead of mother). Romana is definitely more on the regal end and Mrs Flood feels scrappy. River isn’t being a dick to an old woman. Nor Susan. None of the classic/audio Time Lords feel fitting. None of the Higher Powers like Omega or Rassilon. Clara can’t regenerate and while bitch (affectionate) feel like an old woman who’s relying on her is at worst getting ignored, though is closest vibe wise and with the collar, but crucially is technically-dead-but-moving and wasn’t given regenerations.

Genuinely who else even feels vaguely like they fit the bill? I feel like I can’t even differential diagnose her.

If she’s unknown Pantheon, why would she even need to hide?

[watchingblsnowandforever]

My updated GMMTV 2024 lineup in order of my preference: (these are only the QLs. Most of the het shows fall under my Indifferent category. If I feel like it, I'll watch them.)

The Heart Killers. Pretty sure this is #1 on most of y'alls lists and for good reason too. My reasons? Pretty simple. I love action, mafia and romcom and this is all in one. And also FirstKhao and JoongDunk so-

Peaceful Property (part 1). After TayNew outdid themselves in the beautiful soft little thing that was Cherry Magic Thailand (anyone wanna join my Cherry Magic Th propaganda?), I can't wait for this series. Also: if they give me besties, it'll be a hard pill to swallow but I'll be fine, but if they give me bromance, I'll commit homicide.

Pluto the series. A GL? With NamtanFilm? I'm in.

Revamp. Previously: The Vampire Project. Love me some vampires <3. Also, BounPrem.

Sweeth Tooth, Good Dentist. The plot sounds super fluffy and cheesy, so of course I'm in. And no way I'm missing Mark Pakin first lead. (Also, as a dessert-loving person who had many teeth-related problems as a kid, the premise just sounds too relatable. Except the falling in love part with your dentist obviously.) But... JittiRain. I have complicated feelings for her works.

ThamePo/My Heart Skips A Beat. It seems soft and sweet, though it does have the secret/forbidden relationship overtones.

Ossan's Love. I found the trailer hilarious, but trailers, especially pilot trailers lie. Also, I'm not hearing the greatest things about the original, but I haven't watched it so I will reserve judgement. If I like it I'll like it I guess.

Us the series. You might ask how a GL ended up so low in my list. Personally, it's a bit jarring to see BLs have this safe space/bubble for their gay bois, but GLs are proclaiming love between women as "taboo" off the bat. I also saw this in 23.5, and yeah okay I get it, wlw is seen in a much harsher eye sometimes, but in 23.5 all Ongsa did was go on repeating "But we're both girls..." without explaining the why and resolving it properly. For now, I will not think too much into it, and worry about it when the time comes.

Perfect 10 liners. What put me off in the trailer itself is the clear discrimination based on looks/physical appearances. It also seems like at this point they're just trying to give each pairing some screen time this year but have run out of plots, and are thus shoving pairings into series like it's the metro/tube/subway/whatever you call it in your country during rush hour. Will I like it? We'll see. After New Siwaj gave me the masterpiece that is We Are, and crushed my doubts like mosquitoes, I'm willing to give Perfect 10 Liners a good strong chance. The premise still bothers me a bit, but I'm keeping an open mind.

The Trainee. Well, it's OffGun's usual tsundere seme/innocent uke. Office romance though- that's new. I guess they finally graduated from university 😭😂 I don't feel anything about it right now, but let's see what happens when it starts airing.

Currently Airing:

We Are. It's absolutely great for my tastes and I get to detox once every week. Love it. Has absolutely no plot but has loads of fluff, and it's something I didn't know I needed in my life until I had it. It's one of my favourite BLs ever, and it's definitely going on my comfort shows and re-watch list.

Only Boo. I kinda like it, but I have zero idea where they plan to go with the current storyline. Fluffy and cute, I'll keep watching, but it probably won't end up high on my favourites list. I'm behind on a couple of episodes (I'll catch up before ep. 12, no worries) and I was right. I do like it. It's something new, and I'd like GMM to explore this more, but it's not ending up very high on my favourites list.

Wandee Goodday. My favourite fake boyfriends with benefits! I'm behind a couple episodes with this too (sorry, my brain has been a little too obsessed with We Are T~T) but overall, I really like it. It's P'Golf, so I never had any doubts, but I do worry a little about the angst. It's bearable till now, so fingers crossed.

My Love Mix Up! Thailand. I'm still skeptical, not gonna lie. But it's GemFourth. And I didn't feel much about the first few eps of MSP either, and look what happened with that. I still don't know how hard the original will clash with Thai BL's specific style, but I'm willing to take the chance. Please don't disappoint me.

[elisamaza]

Pizza delivery drivers of Reddit, what are some of the craziest reasons people have ended up on the “no delivery list”?

gameryamen

I worked for a pizza place that was near a very large software company. Deliveries to the neighborhoods or offices where all the tech workers lived was usually pretty awesome because they'd tip rather well. But there was one apartment that started to become a concern for us drivers. The man ordering was always polite, always paid, always tipped $4, and he would have been a perfect customer. He'd order breadsticks and a salad twice a week, and sometimes he'd include a bottle of root beer. Except when he opened his door, you could see an alarming amount of our breadsticks boxes stacked everywhere inside. Not like a few on the counter and a couple by the trash, stacks and stacks of them. Even worse, it was only our boxes in there. He wasn't just ordering from us often, we were the only place he was getting food outside of work. Now, I've worked in some of those tech offices myself, I know that there's enough decent food options just hanging out in the break rooms that this guy was probably not malnourished, but the way his living space was a shrine of greasy cardboard was a clear sign that this guy didn't have a healthy relationship with our food. Our manager was a really cool dude though, and he heard the drivers joking about the boxes and asked a couple of us "Is this like a messy guy or a guy who needs help?" We agreed it was probably the latter. So on his day off, the manager went to the guys apartment with an envelope that had gift cards for several other restaurants that delivered in that area and chatted with him. Manager found out that the guy was an immigrant on a Visa who was struggling to find American food he liked, and too socially awkward to ask anyone. So he talked with him through a few menus and helped him with some recommendations. Then he helped the guy load all the old boxes into his truck to take to the dump, in exchange for a promise not to order from us more than once a week. For a little while, the manager had a note on the calendar showing the last time the guy had ordered, and a couple times he had to hold his ground and refuse the guy's order. But after that chat, I never saw the stacks of boxes again, and the guy would boast about the different meals he'd had.

what the fuck dude, this is so sweet.

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

[hugsandchaos]

Okay, so what if Danny and Ellie crashed on Themyscira? When Danny wakes up from passing out, instead of just crying, he turns to the person in the room and demands to know what they did to his sister. He doesn’t trust them one bit when they say she’s okay until she’s brought into the room, safe and sound. Ellie also wanted her big brother because he passed out and practically pounced him when she saw him awake.

Most of the time, Danny stays as alert as he can and keeps glaring at everyone, with Ellie being an exception. He acts very sweet and considerate towards her, and is very patient with her. They still act like siblings sometimes, though. Ellie likes to annoy Danny into chasing her, and it works almost every time. Ellie has told the women there stories about Danny taking care of her. The Amazons think it’s admirable that even though Danny’s a child himself, he acts so much like a guardian, but are saddened by the fact that he has to.

Later on, when he’s starting to trust them, Wonder Woman comes back to visit and investigate. Danny’s very unhappy. In his mind, she works for the Justice League and the Justice League works with the government. You know who works for the government she works with? The G.I.W., and to him, that automatically means that the Justice League knows about them and doesn’t have a problem with it. If they did, they would’ve done something by now.

He avoids her and keeps Ellie by his side or behind him. She trusts his judgment, so she doesn’t argue much when he says to not let Wonder Woman touch her, which is a shame because she’s one of Ellie’s favorites. When Wonder Woman is near Ellie, Danny watches her like a hawk and steps in to pull Ellie away if he thinks things are getting bad.

Wonder Woman definitely notices his behavior. The constant glaring, putting himself between her and his sister, the obvious distrust, his attempts to herd Ellie away from her, and the anxious hand twitching whenever she gets close to Ellie. She knows not everyone likes her, but that’s to be expected when you’re a hero. Someone’s bound to disagree. Still, she can’t help but wonder why he acts as if her touching him or Ellie would be the end of them. When she asks him about it, Danny glares at her and asks why he would trust her.

When she learns about the G.I.W., she’s understandably shocked. The government never told the League about any of it. Danny doesn’t buy it at all and she feels even worse. How long has this been going on that a child not only feels the need to fear and avoid the League, but also have so much distrust that he thinks her genuine reaction to this information is a trick to lure him and his sister into a trap?

Wonder Woman: What reason would you have to fear me?

Danny: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you work for the Justice League? Maybe because the Justice League is dangerous?

Wonder Woman: What makes you think we’re dangerous? We only wish to bring Justice to the world.

Danny: “Justice”? Is that what you call letting the Guys In White do as they please? Is that what you call having laws and acts deeming any ectoplasmic entity as lower than animals? If you had anything against it, you would’ve done something by now. Maybe even a long time ago. But nothing’s changed.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

could you do finnick odair giving you head? i loved your last fanfic!

of course! thank you so much <3

forbidden fruit | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick was your mentor; intimacy was strictly prohibited. but he just couldn’t help but succumb to your sweet taste. in the training centre, no less.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, orgasm, finnick is a swallower!!!, swearing, kinda exhibitionism

notes: i just know finnick would be like a god at giving head. sorry it was a bit short; i had another wip going on as well. definitely enjoyed writing this though ;)

word count: 1.3k

This was wrong. So very wrong. Finnick was supposed to be your mentor. You were supposed to be doing one-on-one training. But, God, if you said having his tongue lapping between your thighs felt anything but perfection, you would be lying to yourself.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Fuck, Finnick.”

His muscular arm had swung your leg over his shoulder, allowing him even deeper access to devour you against the wall of the empty Training Centre gymnasium. The lower half of your body had been stripped bare; your clothes discarded to the floor by the man kneeling beneath you.

He traced tight circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, only stopping to suction his mouth around it and suck. A cacophony of shocked cries and desperate moans left your mouth. You should have known he would be able to make you feel this good. He had a wicked smile and a wicked mouth that could do filthy things.

Teeth nipped gently at your clit, causing your hips to jerk forward with a startled gasp. “Oh my God.”

Finnick removed his head from between your thighs, peering up at your expression with sinful sea-green eyes. Your mouth was slightly agape, brows were drawn together, and cheeks were flushed with a warm pink. His chin and lips were drenched with your juices. He really was devouring you whole.

“Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he purred, pressing a kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh. “I know it feels good but…” His lips trailed up your thigh, getting closer to the place you needed him most. “…we wouldn’t want anyone to find you like this, would we?”

Oh, you knew what would happen if they did. However dangerous the consequences might have been, the idea of someone walking in on Finnick with his face buried in your pussy was exhilarating. Downright arousing.

You weren’t even sure how you ended up in this situation. One minute, you two were practicing hand-to-hand combat and the next, his tongue was exploring your body as you cried out his name in pleasure.

“I’ll be quiet. I—” Suddenly, his tongue was dragging from your soaking hole to the peak of your clit. “Promise.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, dampening the pleasured noises that threatened to escape. Another hand dropped into his hair, fingers interweaving with the messy bronze strands as you tugged him closer. He groaned into your pussy, sending a wave of euphoric vibrations through your body, stimulating the muscles in your stomach that pleaded for a release.

“Sweet girl. Taste so good,” his voice muffled into your skin.

Your heart fluttered at his praise.

And then, before you could even think, Finnick had pulled your other leg over his shoulder, holding you against the wall with pure muscle. He immediately continued his movements, leaving you only seconds to be baffled by his strength.

He flicked his tongue back and forth over your clit, his tongue rough in pressure and wild with speed. Tears were forming in your eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving you. Your stomach was tensing and caving uncontrollably; chest rising and falling with fast, uneven breaths.

Even Finnick seemed to be gaining gratification from getting you to your high, obvious in the frenzied enthusiasm and moans that vibrated against you.

Somehow, he had managed to shift your weight onto one shoulder and dropped a hand to your core. His finger teased at your entrance as he continued working your swollen sensitivity with his tongue. He sunk his long finger into your pussy, instantly curling upwards into that deep, heavenly spot that had you biting your palm and your eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck!” you cried into your hand.

Multitasking wasn’t a problem for him. He sucked, lapped, and tongued, all while curling and pumping his finger in and out of your hole, knuckles probing at your inner walls as he did. Then he added another finger, and you could feel its effects deep within your stomach.

Clit being assaulted and dripping-wet hole stuffed, your orgasm came creeping into the light. It was building slowly. First to be affected was your mind—your thoughts were utterly immoral. You were light-headed and blood buzzed in your ears.

Next was your lower half. Your thighs clenched around Finnick’s head, hips grinding against his tongue which only encouraged him further on. Then your breaths became shallow, a whine or whimper occasionally escaping with each exhale.

His mouth left your heat, fingers still pumping. “Are you close, sweetheart?” he asked in that carefully crafted seductive voice of his. You nodded frantically, pushing his dishevelled hair from his forehead as he gazed up at you. “Let me hear.”

Your hand fell from your lips. “But you said—”

“Forget what I said.” He leaned into your heat, his words fanning warmth against your pussy. “I want to hear my name coming from that pretty mouth of yours as you come.” An unhindered broken moan echoed around the room as he forcefully plunged his fingers into that spot deep inside you. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

The sound of your pleasure filled the gymnasium. You couldn’t even think about the possibility of someone walking in. Not when a white-hot heat was consuming your entire being.

He returned to your throbbing clit, hungrily sucking it in his mouth as if he were tasting a foreign delicacy. The pressure of his suctioned mouth had the heat feverishly spreading around your body, filling you up before it had the chance to explode. And with another pump of his fingers, a blaze erupted in your stomach.

“Finnick!”

Your moans rose an octave, head falling back against the wall as you repeated his name and strings of curses over and over. Sparks trickled down your legs and to your toes. Immense pleasure crested over every inch of your pulsing body, rendering you immobile in Finnick’s arms. Still, he didn’t stop.

Unbeknownst to you, just the sound of you reaching your climax had him coming undone as well, groaning into your gushing slick as his cock twitched and spurted white ropes in his pants.

He licked a long stripe up your slit, collecting your juices with his tongue. Fuck, he had never tasted anything sweeter. Anything more delicious.

As the wave of bliss began to pass, your tensed body began to relax. Finnick noticed, slipping his fingers from your hole and removing his mouth from your overstimulated clit. He watched as your fatigued body started to crumple in on itself, thankfully having the right idea to help you off his shoulders.

He settled you onto his kneeling lap, creating a wet patch on his pants. Not that he cared—it kind of turned him on again.

You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. How were you supposed to face him after… that? Much to your discomfort, Finnick turned your head to face his with a finger. The dry one, of course. His eyes searched yours with a look you couldn’t quite describe. Worry? Anxiety?

“You regret it?” he asked.

It took you a moment to decide; ultimately, you shook your head. That was the most exhilarating thing you had ever experienced in your life. Saying anything else would be a lie.

He smiled.

“But we shouldn’t do it again,” you said softly.

“No…” he sighed, the smile dropping from his face. “But we will.”

And there it was again—that devilish smirk. You couldn’t resist returning it with a sheepish smile because you knew he was right. You would do it again.

[a-mint-bear]

Make Me Yours

Male Yandere x Reader

"I just... really wanna put a collar on a cute guy."

Part 2: "Your One and Only"

You didn't even mean to say it out loud, but your best friend since middle school had always been super open with this sort of stuff. You've always been the first one she texts when a date goes really well, or really terribly. And a lot of your coffee meetups, like this one, devolve into her oversharing all the juicy details of her relationships.

"Oh wow." She nudged you with a grin. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

Unable to meet her eyes, you try to defend your stray thought. You remind her of some of the jerks you've dated, how their assertive and self-assured personalities had all quickly turned into a bit too aggressive and controlling. In certain situations, in controlled doses... that could lead to a nice time. But it's all fun and games until you try to explain away some of their worse moments to your coworkers and swiftly realize you're in "that kind" of relationship. You wonder if you give off some kind of energy that attracts creeps...

The thought of finding a guy who would not only let you take the reins but maybe even prefer you taking charge? It gave you a little thrill you're almost embarrassed to admit.

"Well, it's nothing to get all twisted up over." she shrugs, taking a sip of her iced latte. "You'll find the right guy that's into that kind of thing."

You smiled, she really was trying to encourage you with this, and it was oddly sweet of her.

"Oh, look!" she scooted closer to you, showing you her phone screen. "There's tons of collars you can get. You thinkin' like leather, classic S&M style? Or somethin' more cutesy?"

Maybe a little too encouraging, sometimes.

~ Somewhere very close by...~

His hands were shaking. Your words were playing on repeat in his head, drowning everything else out.

As if you weren't already perfect. He'd been so jealous of you meeting up with your friend, but if it made this conversation happen so he couldn't be too upset about it. He'd been trying to think of some way to make you his for so long... But being yours? Wearing something like that? Something that said he belonged only to you?

He was already yours. But a little proof never hurt.

. . .

It was late, and you decided to cut through the park to get home quicker. It was a pretty safe area, but you didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be. A few lights lit up the main path and you didn't see anyone else around.

But that didn't mean you were alone.

"Hey..."

You spin around to see... some guy. You'd never met him before, but he was... making A LOT of eye contact.

He was cute though. Soft, fluffy hair and piercings in his ears, his bright eyes poking out from beneath his bangs. And he had at least six inches on you, but not really an intimidating frame, a bit skinny too. The way he was looking at you was making you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was a "Oh, this is unexpected." kind of nervous or a "You're gonna end up in his basement." kind of nervous.

"You probably don't remember me but, uh...we had a few classes together last year and…"

He seemed really nervous himself, trailing off with some color in his cheeks. You tell him politely that you were sorry, but you didn't remember him.

"That's okay, uh..."

He was breathing kind of funny, his eyes still staring into yours. You asked him what he needed, hoping it would speed this along and you could leave.

He took a breath, and all you could do was stare, wondering if you should distract him and make a break for it.

"I... I've liked you. For a long time. It's like... like everything about you is just so... wonderful! Seeing you every day keeps me going! I was okay just watching but then... Sorry, sorry. I'm c-coming on too strong, I..."

He took a step towards you, moving like he was going to touch you, but you instinctively took a step back. He looked a little hurt.

"No, no please, don't be scared! I just... I thought it was the right time... I've been thinking about this for so long! I just wanted to..."

He dropped to his knees and the look in his eyes was almost...like he worshipped you. Like you were everything to him and nothing else mattered. It was a bit overwhelming...

"I heard you talking to your friend the other day. Not, uh, not in a weird way, I swear! I-it's just... It's all I can think about..."

He stared at you, a glimmer of something in his eyes. You could see a tremble in his hands, like he was debating reaching out for you again. But he was holding himself back.

Seeing him kneeling, looking up at you with a want that burned into you... It was doing something to you.

This was a weird, kinda scary, unbelievable situation. But it felt so...

Good.

You felt bold. Deciding to go for broke, you finally spoke again.

You asked him to tell you what he wanted.

You could see the tremble shoot through his frame, the smallest, quietest gasp when the your words finally registered.

"I want... I want you to look down at me, just like this! I want you to run your fingers through my hair and tell me I'm a good boy. Your good boy! I want to cuddle up to you and hear your heartbeat while you hold me, I... I want you to use me... I want you to yank my collar if I get too excited and tell me to behave."

He laughed softly at the thought, this guy was completely smitten.

"I want to be yours, if that'll make you happy..."

He reached into his back pocket, you heard the gentle clink of the collar before you saw it. It was like some kind of odd proposal, except he was down on both knees.

He held it up to you, his eyes clouded with a want that made your face feel hot.

So painfully slowly, you reached out for him, your fingers flinching back for a split second, rational thought desperately trying to break through. But despite all the reasons you could think this was completely crazy, you still wanted this.

You touched his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to lean into your hand with a contented, dreamy sigh.

The power he was giving you was... new, exciting, maybe a bit intoxicating. And he was offering it all so willingly, you wondered if this was all a dream.

"I wanna be your good boy..." His voice was soft but pleading, almost desperate. "Please..."

His smile was making your brain feel fuzzy, seeing him looking up at you like you were his whole world.

"Make me yours."

[a-b-riddle]

You're not her...

I've been seeing a good bit of fics where the reader is left for another woman and people around them are encouraging it. While I do love a good angst, I would simply pass away. Your girl, Riddle, is weak.

Especially if it's my baby boy Simon.... I can't. I love the idea, but as someone who is an absolute crybaby, I wouldn't survive being reader...

So what if that happened to nurse reader's partner left them for a fellow recruit and when everyone starts being like "good for him", the 141 isn't having any of it?

The others on base seemed honestly happy that your heart had absolutely been broken. I mean, you weren't exactly around him as much as she was. You couldn't see the undeniable chemistry there was. You had tried to put on a brave face. But when John had come in for some ointment for a burn and you were falling apart, he gathered up his boys.

Something needed to be done. A point to prove not just to you or your ex or that woman who had chosen to pursue a very much taken man, but to the hold damn unit. Your ex didn't leave you because there was someone else. He left you because he didn't deserve you in the first place.

In hand to hand, Johnny doesn't hold back. Not only does your ex absolutely get his ass handed to him on the mat over and over again, but does it in front of his new girl and everyone else. How embarrassing. Doesn't exactly help that Kyle is on the sidelines talking so much shit that she begins to get the ick. I mean, could he not honestly win one match? Wonder what that says about a man who can't even hold his own? It even gets cringier when your ex tries to place the blame on the drills from yesterday with a certain Ghost.

Simon is already hard as a lieutenant. But add in the factor that the recruit he currently has running drills is the same recruit who hurt his favorite little nurse? The boy would be lucky to crawl out of there. The second an exercise or drill is not made to absolute perfection, Simon has him running it all over again. It almost

John is already starting the transfer papers the first time he catches your eyes the least bit misty. You don't have to see that rubbish and since the prick and slag couldn't have the decency to wait until he had broken up with you properly instead of telling you that even though he was with you, he had fallen for another woman, then they'll be sent to completely different units. John lists the reason for transfer as a liability. If they were so proud of their "love" before, let them keep that same energy.

And Kyle.... Sweet shit talkin' Kyle. Who plants seeds around the entire base. Nowhere are these two lovebird safe from judgment. All of the female recruits have ostracized their fellow female soldier while receiving lewd looks and calls from the males. I mean if she was easy enough to fuck a taken man, then she must be an easy lay. And here comes Kyle, telling your ex 'man-to-man' about seeing his girl with other officers. Kyle is the most gentle when it comes to the 141. But the motherfucker knows a thing or two about psychological warfare.

After your ex and the girl are suddenly, very mysteriously sent elsewhere, everyone starts flocking to you. Offering reassurances on what a bullet you dodged. How, from what they heard, they had broken up shortly after being relocated to separate bases. The boys see your confidence creep back in. Your smile is a little brighter. A little more pep in your step.

You wouldn't tell anyone how your ex had e-mailed you. Complaining about the new base. Explaining how he had ended things and just wanted you back. How he regretted ever letting her get to him, as if she were the only one at fault for kindling the relationship.

It also didn't help that a certain member of the 141 had come by your station, wondering if you wanted to grab a drink when you were off of your shift.

[cherry-leclerc]

pride ☆ mv1

genre: smut, established relationship, stubborn!max, jealous!max, humor, fluff

word count: 3k

After his DNF, Max finds himself losing his temper when you keep insisting that it was his fault. Due to both ends, you find yourself in a constant battle on who can admit defeat first.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... gym sex - that's all teheee

req!...super fun to write, thank u, anon for the idea !!

He never liked to be pointed out as the one who did something wrong on track. Then again, he rarely ever made those types of mistakes. Max got along with everyone on the grid, but he was there to win. And he certainly did not need his girlfriend reminding him that he’s human, just like the rest of the drivers.

“Just admit it already, you fucked up this time. You cut him off.”

A DNF was as bad as it could get, his mood quickly deteriorated as he bangs his helmet against the wall. If you weren’t used to his dark behavior, then you would have definitely worried. Instead, you tap your foot impatiently with a deep sigh, eyes rolling with strong annoyance. You didn’t like to see him like this, but it drove you crazy that he could never own up to his wrongdoings. 

The Dutch harshly rips off his balaclava, dirty blond hair sticking against his angry face, normally baby blue eyes switching to a devilish color. “You’re such a…” A deep growl. “He cut me off, and that’s what got us both out of the race. What a fucking dick.”

Your brow raises up, pointing at him with accusement. “My thoughts exactly.” Turning on your heel, you spin around and walk out of his driver's room, leaving him to sulk like a manchild. Stupid, Lando.

As soon as the race ends, you sheepishly make your way to the young Brit. “Is he mad?” he asks. You shrug as if you care about what your boyfriend is feeling at this very moment. Max wasn’t the kind to get mad, he got furious. 

“He’ll get over it. Though I do suggest you run the opposite way if you spot him.” He laughs, eyes crinkling with agreement. After apologizing on behalf of the grumpy Dutchman, you hurry off to find him. Propped up against the door frame, you nervously play with the hem of your dress as you inch your way closer. You can practically see the color red blooming out of him as he smiles bitterly.

“And where were you?” His voice expands softly, it makes your stomach churn, but you put on a brave face nonetheless, refusing to give in to his ego. It doesn’t matter. He chuckles, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, head shaking in disapproval. “Aren’t I the one you should be consoling? I don’t see why you had to go see him.”

Your eyebrows narrow down sharply. “Max, you’re being a fucking baby, you caused the crash! Lando was just unlucky and I went to let him know, is that so wrong?”

The Dutch fumes, jaw clenching. “You can go see him, I don’t give a fuck, but stop saying it was my fault. He closed in on me.” You scoff, arms crossed. “This is pure bullshit.”

“Whatever, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m glad you’re alright,” you sourly say, pushing past him to go and retrieve your things, getting ready to leave back to the hotel. His nose twitches, following after you. Neither of you utter a single word, simply packing and strolling out the door. As soon as the media gets involved and Lando walks by with a shy smile and wave, he instinctively grabs your hand, leading you through the tight crowd with a bright smile, despite his crash. 

Setting aside your differences, you’re grateful for his sweet gesture, even if it laces with a bit of possessiveness. The drive is tense, only the sound of the blinker being heard. You try adding some music, but as soon as he turns off the radio, you turn to him, hair slapping your flushed face. “Why did you do that?” Your hand slides back up, turning it on. He repeats his same actions, leaving you to burn lasers to the side of his head. 

“Your music is complete shit.” Surprised by his cold tone, your right eye twitches like a crazy person before turning your attention back towards the road. He feels bad. He’s not mad at you, not even at his friend. But he wasn’t the biggest fan of letting his team down, and much less, owning up to it. 

Pushing the door open, you march in, making your way to the bathroom, ready to shower off the irritation. Max trails after you without a second thought, then you slam the door right on his face. He blinks. He can hear you turning the water on, stripping down. “You’re taking a shower by yourself this time, you dickhead.”

-

The next few races run smoother as he finishes in first place for most of them. All of them, actually. But his wins aren’t worth it in the end. Not with your rigid congratulations, forced kisses as you wait for him along with a puddle of photographers. It shouldn’t strike him as strange; you were still upset. For a second, he considers putting his pride aside and try to fix things, make amends, but when you mumble next to him, he quickly throws that out the window. 

“Baby finally got fed his bottle.”

All his pent up emotions came rushing back as you wear an innocent smile. With a sullen glare, he walks out, leaving you to gloat. Two can play that game. 

Here’s the thing with yours and Max's relationship; it was amazing. A fucking dream. You loved each other like crazy, but when you both get into an argument, it can drag out for the longest time. Your friends had pointed it out countless times, accusing you two for being freakishly stubborn. Oftentimes, he’d be the first to give up and apologize, and sometimes it was you. Only this time, it looked like a long haul. 

It was a weird dynamic. He still kissed you goodbye, reminded you how much he loved you. You still attended his races, glowed with sincere happiness for every podium of his, but apart from that, you two still held on to your end of the rope. And it’s been so long. One month? Maybe two?

“Four fucking months,” Max grunts, large hands fixing his drinking straw that connects to his suit. The Dutch is clearly frustrated, Checo could tell as he warily eyes his teammate. The Mexican driver poured out an amused chuckle. Max curls a dark brow. “What?”

Checo halts. “Nothing, man. You’re just being so…how do I put this nicely?” He clicks his fingers enthusiastically. “You’re acting like a douchebag. Puras pendejadas, lo que estás haciendo.” The blue eyed boy shakes his head.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He walks away.

“It means you’re doing stupid shit for absolutely no reason. Take it from me, I’m married! I know what I’m talking about, and as your elder, I suggest apologizing. It’ll fix everything, trust me.” But Max only ignores him, already climbing into his car. As much as he would love to try and make things right with the woman he adores like a complete idiot, there’s always something that ruins it. Whether it’s you witty reminders, or your cruel ignorance.

Though, he feels like he’s going crazy. He can feel his hands itch as they beg to hug you the way they were used to. Or to kiss your plump lips, slightly red from your constant nibbles. You can feel his eyes on you as you cut up a group of vegetables, getting things ready for dinner. Like a tease, you bend down to pick up the bag of carrots that had just fallen. You giggle. “Whoops.”

Abruptly, he stands up. “I’m going to get in a small workout before we eat.” That’s all. Left there with your jaw on the floor, you slam the knife against the cutting board. 

You missed him. You’d be insane not to. You missed cuddling with him after a long day. You missed the way he would cradle your face to kiss you eagerly after every win. Now it’s almost as if you’re a couple of strangers with the way he keeps a careful distance. And if he wasn’t going to fix things, then you would force him to.

He hears you before he actually sees you. Not a single word escapes past your lips as you skip closer. His molars grind together when he notices your tiny skirt, paired with a tank top. Perky tits salute him as he holds back a groan. Smiling sweetly, you start to stretch. “Thought I’d join you. Didn’t want to eat without you.”

His heart squeezes, ghostly nodding. Adjusting himself on the bench, he starts his set of overhead presses. Loopy eyes circle his glistening muscles as he pants tiredly, shaky breaths bouncing off of him. You have to physically stop yourself from drooling an entire ocean. 

The blue eyed boy leads an impressive set, a thin layer of sweat coating him like a blanket. One you would gladly roll around in. Pursing your lips, your limbs feel extremely weak all of a sudden and decide to settle with laying down and bringing your legs up, skirt sliding down, exposing your soft skin. 

“So tight,” you whine when you reach up, muscles tied up in an uncomfortable spot. Intrigued, your boyfriend takes a peek and instantly curses, large hands gripping against the metal bar. He gulps. “Maxie, can you push my legs back for me?”

His breath hitches. “No. I’m sure you can do that yourself.”

Sitting up straight, you squint your beady eyes at him as he distracts himself by adding more weight to his set. You click your tongue, a menacing grin tugging at your pink lips. “Messed up, baby, you are messed up.”

Max curses himself for falling in love with someone as beautiful as you. It seriously messed him up a concerning amount. Suddenly there was no more cold demeanor when it came to you. That simply just belonged to the rest because you were everything to him.

“First, you’re too much of a pussy to admit your mistakes and now you’re too scared to get near me?” You scoff. “It’s all starting to add up.”

Except at this very moment.  

“And what exactly is that? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Kneeling down onto the black mat, you stretch your arms out against it, and lay your back flat. You hum. “Oh.” You arch your back, ass angling upwards where his eyes quickly trace to. You smirk. “Nothing.”

If he weren’t so impressed by your bratty act, he would have definitely walked out on you. But you just looked so pretty, rosy, and you were glistening. He wonders what else there was on top of that. The Dutch moves on to a bench press. Huffing, he grits his teeth as he extends his arm before puffing and bringing them back down.

The 26 year old, despite your attempts, was as focused as he could possibly be. The adrenaline was lingering in his entire system as he kept his eyes trained upward. Chest locking tightly, muscles contracting. And then he hears it. Your tiny moans, soft whimpers.

The loud sound of him dropping the weight makes you jump up a bit before looking up. He finds you in your first position you had started with when you first stepped foot into the home gym. He can feel his cock press harshly against his white shorts. “Why are you…” He trails off when your mouth drops open, brows scrunching together. Your thighs beg to be kissed. Slippery arms tug your legs closer to you as you giggle. 

“My legs are too tight.” His chest tightens. “Help me get more flexible?” you press innocently as you signal for him to push your legs. “Please, Maxie.”

Sighing, he nods. As soon as he steps close to you, he can feel your pouring lust, fuck me eyes staring back up at his frame. Grabbing the heels of your feet, he pushes back as you groan. “Oh shit.” You laugh, chest vibrating against the mat. “I really needed the extra push.”

He grimaces. A silence lingers between you two before you wiggle your left foot against his palm. He raises a confused brow. I’m going to tuck it to my chest. Just hold the right one. Doing as instructed, you sigh in relief, lashes fluttering. He holds back a much needed grunt. “You’re telling me you couldn’t do this yourself?”

You nip the air. “We’re not all professional athletes, Max. I needed you.”

You can see how hard your implication is hitting him as his gaze darkens. And just as he’s about to reach out for you, you wiggle your brows. Next leg. Snapping out of trance, he eyes the way your skirt rides down your skin. In a swift movement, he lets go and takes a staggered step back. You grin. What’s wrong?

“You’re crazy.”

Standing up, you place both hands on your waist. “Why?”

Max doesn’t even recall when he pins you against the wall, your hair flying from the impactful blow, and yet, you’re smirking. Kissing you harshly, you groan, leaning against your tippy toes as you struggle to breath. He seems to be lost in your lips as he cradles your face, teeth clashing against yours at the filthy action. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, blues staring back. “So fucking beautiful.”

Whimpering, you reach back out for him, plump lips attacking his thick neck as he sighs. The purple bruises were definitely something he would hound you on tomorrow, but for now that was the least of his worries. Admiring the colorful spot, you lick it slowly. He shudders. 

“I can suck something else, you know?”

You almost don’t recognize his growl, for you haven’t heard it in so long, that it catches you by surprise as he spins you around, bending you over the nearest counter, where his wall of protein stands. He hitches your skirt up as you gasp when his fingers slide inside of you. The way he stretches you out makes you see stars as you struggle to keep upward. 

“Wore this just for me, right? You knew it would drive me crazy?” His long fingers curl at the perfect angle as you nod. Yes, yes. I wore it just for you. I knew you’d like it. You squeal when he lifts you up, tits pressing against the cold marble, legs dangling like a doll. His doll. He watches the way you swallow his digits. “I fucking love it, baby…”

Then, he’s down on his knees as he wraps his lips around your clit. Moaning loudly, you press your cheek against the cool tiles, saliva dripping out of your mouth at the sensation. In your fucked up state, you still reach out for him as he grabs your hand. “You taste so sweet,” he hums. You’re close to crying when he pulls away, but calm down when he thrusts into you. 

The Dutch throws his head back as soon as your velvety walls wrap around his cock, the way you swallow him whole. Makes him hate himself for holding onto his pride for so long. For keeping you away. His heart races when you prop yourself on your elbows as stare back at him with tired, lustful eyes. He grins, slapping your ass as you yelp. You ass tilts up as he watches you struggle to keep up. 

Warm hands come up to keep you close to him as you bite down on your lip. “You’re a fucking brat, but God, I hate it because you were right. I pushed him off. I did, I did, I did…” His dirty hair sticks against his face as you bounce forward with every pound. “But he was making you laugh - smile - and I just couldn’t handle that.”

Your heart stops. This was news to you because there was no way the Max you knew so well would break his winning streak all due to a friendly encounter. He pecks your bare shoulder. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you.”

“Then show me.”

WIth that, he holds onto your hips with more grip as his tip brushes repeatedly against your g-spot. You’re a mess, but he’s loving every second of it. As soon as he wraps a large hand around your breast, you’re gone, spluttering white all around him as he follows. With a croaky groan, he slips out as you fall back to your original spot. He chuckles. He fixes your skirt before helping you sit up to face him. Your eyes crinkle. 

“You love me,” you say in a sing-song voice as you poke his dimple. I thought I made that clear. You scrunch your nose, pecking his face all over with sloppy kisses. He playfully winces, but accepts nonetheless. “You love me, love me. Why would you ever worry about me and Lando? You know he’s just a friend.”

His smile drops as it's replaced with a scowl. “I wasn’t worried, per se. I don’t like someone else making you laugh. That’s my job.”

Your brows arch. “What are you suggesting? That I just keep mute for the rest of my days, unless I’m with you?”

Max shrugs. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

You smack his chest as he throws his head back with laughter. “No. Not a solid anything. Max, I love you.”

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Okay,” you confirm, fixing your posture, lips pursing. “But please never do that again, that’s just plain out dangerous and crazy. A big no-no, Emilian.” He glares and your lips wobble childishly. “You love wins, and I love celebrating them with you. It just works.”

“You know what doesn’t work?” he retorts as he hugs you. You hum, comfortable against his warmness. “Not talking to me for four months, what were you thinking?” You push him away abruptly. We spoke! “But we didn’t fuck, and that’s the same thing.”

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes as he stares back in awe. “If you keep this up then I’m going to crank it up to eight,” you threaten. 

The Dutch nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck before you cave in. “Let’s not do that. You’d be breaking my heart.”

taglist: @myownwritings @d3kstar @crucifiedbitch

*note: i've only tagged those who asked to be included in general. i've kept that apart from the method acting series taglist!! lmk in which you would like to be, just in case!

[arminsumi]

more jealous sukuna please? and and sukuna smut too? your sukuna has been on my mind like a rotisserie chicken in microwave

LIKE YOU'RE MY QUEEN

“What would you prefer? Gojo spoiling you like a princess, or me spoiling you like a queen?”

4.9k

★ Featuring : boss!Sukuna, co-worker!Gojo

★ Synopsis : at a Christmas work party, your jealous boss Sukuna proves that he can treat you better than Gojo ever could.

★ Note : like a rotisserie chicken in a microwave?! 😂 best thing i ever heard

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+, jealousy, possessiveness, rivalry between Gojo and Sukuna, reader x Gojo smut memories, bl*wjob + deepthroating, cunnilingus/facesitting, creampies, reader is on birth control, taking condom off (consensual), Gojo catching/listening thru door, +++

Sukuna steps out of a shower dripping wet.

He wraps a towel around his waist, and it hangs dangerously low on his hips, showing the definition of his V-line and his dark patch of hair. He wipes a clearing on the steamed-up mirror with his hand, then gets ready to shave – lines up all the products that he’s going to use. It’s funny; you wouldn’t expect him to have so many skin care products, yet he does.

Sukuna shaves his cheeks with a precise, beady eye on his reflection in the mirror. The razor makes small, sharp sounds when he drags it across his jawline, which he juts out a bit.

Why is he shaving so precisely? Well, Sukuna overheard you speaking once to a co-worker in the office, and you said something about being turned on by clean-shaven men.

After shaving, he puts on an Italian-branded moisturizer. He also dabs on a pea-sized amount of some special skin care product and using both his middle fingers he smooths it onto his skin in a sweepy pattern.

Apparently, you like it when men have a lingering moisturizer scent on their cheeks.

Sukuna spends a long time getting ready for the Christmas work party that he’s hosting tonight at his own penthouse. The whole office anticipates this end of year party from Sukuna, they’re very lavish.

You better notice his obvious efforts.

He knows you're an intelligent and well-versed woman. He likes that about you. And he likes your look, especially at the end-of-year work parties when you really glam yourself up for the occasion. But he likes your look even when you're scurrying around the office with messy hair and no make-up to conceal your imperfections, he still looks at you with the same lustfulness – like he needs to take you into his office and bend you over his desk for doing a good job.

Your boss distinctly remembers how you looked at the Christmas work party last year; your smile and glittering earrings like a treasured photograph in his mind.

He hopes you'll wear the thin-chained, diamond necklace that he gifted you. Whenever you wear it, he feels a bit delusional — he thinks you belong to him. But you’re just his employee.

Something your boss regrets is hiring a particular employee.

This employee is tall, sorely good-looking and charismatic to the point of making it hard for his co-workers (and Sukuna) catch your eye. Sukuna’s been battling to maintain his pride and not fire the man solely for charming you.

Sometimes you’ve noticed Sukuna clenching his jaw when catching you and this employee flirting by the water-cooler. He usually strides by and grumbles “Get back to work.” to disrupt the two of you.

Sukuna thinks this man has some audacity to get in your pants, considering the whole office knows that Sukuna has eyes on you.

When you first started out at this job, Sukuna was cruel and harsh on you even though you were clearly trying your best as a rookie – and what a cheeky move his employee made when he noticed this; he buttered you up after Sukuna yelled at you so that you’d take more of a liking to him than your boss.

One of the first things Gojo Satoru said to you was;

“Sweets, don’t listen too closely to the boss; you’re doing great for a rookie.”

And from that moment, you were enamoured by him. Your co-worker with white hair, standing at a big 6’3 frame, wearing an intoxicating Giorgio Armani cologne. You and him have a three year age gap, him being older and also a single dad… two things that turn you on.

Sukuna and Gojo may have the funniest boss/employee dynamic you’ve ever seen. They both act like they’re the boss.

Sometimes you follow orders from Gojo and say “Yes, sir.” and this makes Sukuna ball his hands into fists on his desk. He keeps a stoic, professional face. Gojo just laughs and usually replies with “Sweets, ‘m not the boss – he is. Right, Sukuna?” to which Sukuna quietly thinks of murder.

If Gojo wasn’t his best employee, you’re sure there would be a fight between them. It’s not the work ethic of Gojo that makes him a good employee, it’s the fact he brings in great business from around the world because he is just so incredibly charming and charismatic.

Sukuna appreciates and respects Gojo’s charm and charisma, yes. Until it’s used on you. Then he seethes.

At Christmas parties, Gojo’s always hot on you. But this year, Sukuna’s determined to make sure to corner you before Mister Blue Eyes does.

— ★

A dim-lit, lavish room big enough to accommodate the whole office of employees is decorated and filled to the brim. Servers sieve through the crowd. A glittering chandelier hangs from the tall ceiling. The work party is somehow even more lavish than last year’s, which you can’t comprehend.

Just like I said; Gojo is always hot on you at these parties. His eyes are on you (and blazing with lust) immediately after you appear. Tonight, you’re wearing a tight, glittery slip dress that you were gifted anonymously. And Gojo makes haste to compliment you as flirtatiously as possible.

“I think the chandelier is jealous.” He goofs, making you smile.

“Hey, Satoru.” You greet him.

“Hey.”

Sukuna watches from across the room as you two share a hug – and it’s a hug that tells a whole story.

You and Satoru have been clearly bonding as co-workers… especially this year, after you two went on that business trip together in Okinawa.

Well, now Sukuna regrets allowing you to accompany Gojo on that trip. Clearly the two of you spent the month steaming up the hotel’s shower and ruining the tightly tucked bedsheets.

And he’s right.

You and Satoru practically spent the whole business trip fucking like bunnies in as many positions as you could and in as many places as you could – both in the hotel room and around the resort you stayed at.

There had been a sexual tension between you and Satoru that built up during the work year since January, and it finally snapped during the trip in Okinawa when it was just you and him alone together. The first night? Gojo was so smooth it made you giggle uncontrollably, even while caged between his strong arms. He made sure to fuck your giggles out until they turned into screaming moans.

God he was skilled – really skilled. And you know what’s worse than a man who’s skilled in the bedroom? A man with a big, fat cock. Eight. A bit of a right-tending curve. Pale. Lots of veins – a prominent one running down the shaft. Pink tip. Taut balls, heavy with cum. No condoms as per your request after you saw it the first time. Creampies as per your demand since you had birth control. And be glad you had it, because Satoru’s cum was potent.

All you could babble as he fucked you each time was:

“God, your cock is so fucking big, Satoru!”

And he had a smug reply every time.

“I know, baby. But you love taking it, right?”

Satoru fucked you during that business trip like he was trying to burn the memory of how good he fucks into your mind. He nicknamed you his Sex Bunny because of how readily you hopped on his dick each time he flirted – and when the two of you were in the office again, he shortened it to just Bunny. It was like a little inside joke between the two of you, one that made you instantly giggle and feel hot in the face.

Neither of you counted how many times you two had sex in Okinawa, but tonight at the Christmas party you and Satoru reminisced about all the places you had sex in.

The hotel lobby with a remote-control vibe. The hotel bed. The hotel shower. Against the hotel window. Over a room-service cart. Standing by the hotel door – outside, not inside, at 3 am when no one was around but still it was risky. At the restaurant. At the other restaurant. At the beach. Twice. In the backseat of an expensive, rented car.

“… wish we could have ticked the plane off our list of locations.” Satoru smirks

“What are you two talking about?” your other co-worker, Nanami Kento, joins the conversation.

“Nothin’, just our trip to Okinawa last month. It was pretty fruitful.” Satoru holds back a laugh.

Kento nods, sipping his champagne. The three of you talk business for a while but then Kento leaves to go talk to Suguru who beckoned for him to come over to the other side of the room – introducing work people, you know.

“Satoru, you come here too. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Suguru calls for his best friend.

“Suguru, you’ll have to work harder than that if you want to tear me away from her.” Satoru jokes.

You feel your cheeks warm up. If it wasn’t for the professional setting of a work party, Satoru would be caressing your hips and kissing you as if you’re his to-be wife. Actually, Satoru seriously considers doing both of those things after hearing you laugh but then the two of you are interrupted by a familiar, strong-voiced man.

Sukuna seethes at Gojo’s audacity to stand so close to you. He purses his lips and tenses his abdomen muscles. He gets full-body fits of jealousy; his muscles tensing and lips pursing are common.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Sukuna asks stiffly.

“Of course – and you’re responsible for it.” Gojo cheeks.

There’s an underlying meaning to his response that Sukuna pieces together instantly – his jaw clenches but he maintains his composure.

You’re flitting your attention between the men.

Gojo is severely good-looking. Not just because he won the genetic lottery, but because he maintains his looks with high-end classy fashion and he refines himself to the point of looking ready for a model photoshoot.

Sukuna has a sensual, firm feeling to his looks. Jawline sharp enough to cut, and his voice cuts too – he’s sliced through the tension between you and Gojo. Cleaving Gojo is just something he enjoys doing. He’s a bit sadistic, he delights in Gojo’s downfall. You’re being charmed away by Sukuna with each word he speaks.

So Gojo flirts harder.

Then Sukuna flirts harder.

You feel a bit small with these two big, muscular men in suits clustering close to your tinier body. They’re like peacocks having a feather show-off competition to win you over.

Both men are trying to undress you with their eyes, their pupils peeling back the thin fabric cradling your breasts. Sukuna’s feasted on your cleavage many times when you’ve bent over in the office to pick something up. It irks him that Gojo has had the privilege of playing with your breasts and he hasn’t yet.

He’s pooling with jealousy; it’s spilling through his tone as he continues talking with you and Gojo.

Sukuna notes that you’re wearing the thin-chained, diamond necklace that he hoped you'd wear.

Your dress glitters.

Sukuna gets a little hard right then because he stares at you for too long. The dress hugs the shape of your body so that every kink and curve is unconcealed. It leaves little up to the imagination.

That's what he likes to see. His favorite employee wearing his necklace and his dress at his party.

The men talked business with you for a bit, but not for long.

"She looks like a goddess tonight, doesn’t she, Sukuna? I don't know how any man here is standing upright. Me personally, my knees are buckling."

Your cheeks burn, “Oh, Satoru, you’re laying it on thick, you flirty bastard.” You light-heartedly shove his chest.

Sukuna clenches his jaw.

Not only did your response to Gojo’s flirting irk Sukuna, but also the way you used his first name – you’re that close? And you touching Gojo was just the nail in the coffin.

“You talk a lot as usual, Gojo.” Sukuna’s professional tone slips for a second.

“I know, I know…” Gojo smirks cheekily, knowing he was chipping away at Sukuna. “But don’t you think that dress just fits her form so perfectly?” he emphasizes.

“Yes, it was made for her.” Sukuna replies. Gojo tilts his head in surprise. “I contacted a friend overseas and asked if he could have it made in time for Christmas. Good to see my efforts weren’t for nothing.”

Your cheeks burn as Sukuna reveals that he bought the dress for you. He’d gotten your measurements from your tailor.

"Oh! — oh my god, you really didn't have to do that for me, Sukuna." you reply humbly.

Sukuna smirks smugly after hearing his name from your lips.

"I absolutely had to. You deserved it after working so hard for me this year."

Gojo has goes quiet and purses his lips.

"Your efforts definitely weren't for nothing, Sukuna." Gojo chimes in smoothly.

"Ahah, Satoru you're really overdoing it. Thank you, though. Always nice to hear sweet things from your lips." you flirt a little.

You flirt a little.

Gojo flirts back.

Sukuna is teetering between being a boss of a company and being his old self who used to aspire to be a professional boxer.

Gojo is a man that gets everything he wants – you know, like he’s the chosen one and life was tailored to fit him. An excellent position at an excellent job, screwing his hot co-worker in Okinawa.

Just once, Sukuna wants to take everything away from Gojo.

Now your boss is itching to get alone with you. Gojo yaps, flirts, plays, never shuts up. Then finally, he readies leave.

“Alright, I’ll have to leave for a moment. Suguru has been wanting my attention since I got here and I’m such a bad friend that I’ve ignored him for your company instead.” He joked. “But I promise I’ll come back and spoil ya, ‘princess.”

No you won’t, Sukuna thinks.

And the split second that Gojo joins Suguru’s small group conversation, Sukuna steers you through the crowd and leads you up the stairs – holding your hand like a real gentleman, you thought. But Sukuna’s a gentleman with carnal, primal desires.

He looks at your neck, at the necklace, then his eyes trail down to your cleavage and he admires the dress as it shimmers in the dim light.

He decides that tonight he'll win you over.

Enough of this peacock war between Sukuna and Gojo. He's the boss, right?

— ★

You sit cross-legged on a lush, black sheet bed, giggling at the dirty jokes that your boss, Ryomen Sukuna, is muttering into your ear. He makes you wiggle your foot flirtatiously, your high heel slipping off a bit.

The party is still ongoing downstairs. Gojo Satoru wonders where you are but Geto Suguru is keeping him locked in a business conversation with Nanami Kento and Fushiguro Toji.

You act like Sukuna’s flirting is too hot and heavy for you to handle. A big grin is plastered on your face.

He leans in close to your ear. You catch a whiff of his intoxicating after-shave oil and his cologne; he smells spicy and expensive.

Then he asks you a question that ends the playful flirting and turns the atmosphere into a serious lust.

"What would you prefer? Gojo spoiling you like a princess, or me spoiling you like a queen?"

He sees your eyes light up and your body shift excitedly. His closeness makes your breath hitch.

"I-if I'm being honest? The latter."

“I think you’re lying.” He teases.

“Lying? Why do you think so?” you ask flirtatiously.

Sukuna’s lips graze yours.

“Because you’ve been flirting like a slutty little princess with him all night.”

You swallow. His cologne floods your head. You can’t think straight. You look down and see he’s got a bulge in his tight pants. It takes all your self-restraint not to reach out and squeeze his cock through his pants; it looks so delicious.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you’ve gone silent for much too long. “Maybe you want both of us.”

“Of course I do.” You admit openly.

“Oh? You’re sluttier than I thought.” He smirks.

“Isn’t that why I’m your favorite employee?” you tease.

“Hmmm… I don’t know if you’re still my favorite employee after admitting you want both me and Gojo.” He replies.

“Aw… well, if I’m not your favorite employee anymore…”

Your fingertips reach out and touch the curve of his cock.

“… can I become your favorite slut?”

Those words go straight to his cock. It’s straining against his pants now. He’s so hard it’s getting jumpy, you can see it visibly twitching in his pants.

***

Pants unzipped, head tilted back, eyes shut in bliss, Sukuna palms your head up and down on his cock, making your lips slide up and down his cock.

You splutter when he hits the back of your throat, and gag when he starts to slide his big cock down your throat.

“Ghhhn.” You gargle and choke as his thick, bulbous cockhead stretches out your throat.

He tastes so addicting. That’s something Sukuna has in common with Satoru; tasting so damn good. Is it their lifestyles? Their diets? Who knows. You remember sucking Satoru dry in Okinawa because his cum just tasted so good.

Taking as much of your boss’ cock as you can, you let him keep you down on it for a few seconds before hastily pulling off for air.

He groans loudly.

“Fuck, maybe you will become my favorite slut after tonight.” He jokes. “Look how fucking sloppy you’ve made my cock.”

You wipe the saliva from your chin and lips, smiling happily at Sukuna’s slicked cock.

He changes positions. The bedsheets rustle as he lays on it, stretching his long legs out. His cock sways as he moves, you eye it out.

“Come here.” He commands with a beckoning finger.

You crawl over to him and straddle his lap. He rests his hands on your hips and looks at your glittering slip dress – it rises over the curve of your thigh. He squeezes the plush fat there, letting out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your flesh moulding to his hand.

“You’ve been a good slut to me, now tell me what you want first; do you want me to treat you like a slut or like my queen?”

“Like your queen.” you reply with sparkly eyes.

“Then come up here and sit on your throne, my queen.” He commands.

You look at him dumbstruck.

During the trip in Okinawa, Gojo wasn’t opposed to eating you out – if you asked him he would do it. But he wasn’t all too good at it, it was just for prep. You didn’t complain because he made up for it by luring multiple orgasms out of your pussy with his cock.

Your hips hover inches above your boss’ tattooed face. His eyes catch on the slick that’s dribbling out your hole and smearing across your inner thigh. He notices you hesitate to sit down on his face.

“Sit.” He commands again.

But before you lower your pussy onto his face, he does it himself – by grabbing your hips and bringing you down.

“Oh! Fuck! Mmm!” you gasp.

Sukuna wastes no time working his skilled tongue into your pussy.

At first he runs his tongue up and down the slit, not quite parting it yet. Teasing, light licking up to your clit, he grazes circles around it with his pointed tongue. You squirm your hips, so he holds them more firmly.

“Don’t you fucking squirm. Stay right here, my queen.”

Sukuna’s words and breath go right against your puffy clit. It’s buzzing and sensitive, needy for attention. You gasp loudly when you feel him kiss it. Then he kisses it again – sloppier, and starts making out with your clit as if it’s your lips.

“Oh, fuck! S-sir!” you breathe excitedly.

He hums against your clit, smug that you’re still calling him ‘Sir’.

Now he starts to suckle your clit gently, massaging his tongue into it while he does. His big hands caress up and down your shuddering thighs.

“Mmm!” you whine, pinching your eyes shut and feeling good on your boss’ face.

He pulls his lips away, murmuring “Bet that asshole never made you make these noises, hm?” he says proudly.

Sukuna’s tongue flattens out and swipes upwards, he starts lapping like a thirsty dog. You hear him breathing and lightly groaning. Sukuna’s using all his tricks on your pussy.

You place your hands on the headboard in front of you and gulp, pinching your eyes shut even tighter. He can’t see it, but he just knows your lips are forming that O shape right now. His tongue wiggles into your hole, and he starts tongue-fucking you hard and fast. His lips press against your squishy folds. He can feel your juices start running down his chin as he continues.

“Oh my god!” your moans quiver. Your body trembles a bit. “That’s so fucking good!”

Sukuna smirks into your pussy and keeps fucking you with his tongue. You clench tight.

Sukuna works his tongue against your clit. He builds up your first orgasm of the night. His tongue goes faster and faster against your puffy clit, lips latching on and suckling it. You feel your orgasm nearing and your mind goes fuzzy. You’re dumbing out on Sukuna’s tongue.

It feels too good, you can't help but hump your hips back and forth on Sukuna's face.

"That's it, fuck my face." he groans and switches from thrusting his tongue into your hole to suckling your clit again. He points his tongue at your bud and flicks it rapidly.

"Fuuuck! Oh my god that's so good that's s-so fucking good! Please don't stop! MHM! Oh my god I'm gonna — cummm!!"

You roll your eyes back and feel your orgasm working up in your pussy as Sukuna sucks your clit harder. You zone out on pleasure and focus on cumming.

Sukuna groans into your pussy, feeling you gush all over his face. He’s a mess, his cheek splattered with your watery cum as it dribbles out. He keeps licking you through your orgasm, making you shudder and scream.

Sukuna lets out a naughty, humming laugh that gets muffled onto your pussy. You cum all over his face and shake violently, feeling your pussy convulse and contract.

There's just one thing you have to say to Sukuna for him to toss you off his face.

"Need your cock, please!"

He licks your inner thighs to clean them up.

“Sure, queen.”

— ★

Gojo's still enjoying the party, but now it's been an hour since you disappeared and he wonders where you are until he realizes Sukuna is nowhere to be found, either. Hm,

You've got your legs pushed back as Sukuna eases his cock into your pussy. He slowly stretches you open, savoring the feeling of pushing past your entrance.

Then he groans while he starts to fuck his inches into you one by one. Big hands keep your legs pushed back into a mating press.

You let out quivering moans and roll your eyes back. Sukuna's jaw slacks and he tilts his head off to the side. His fat cockhead prods at your G-spot and that's when you squeal;

"Fuck! Right there!"

"Oh, right here?"

"Mhm! Fuck! Right theeere, Sukuna! Oh my god, S-Sukunaaa!"

"Ooh, you're gettin' loud for your boss’ cock, huh?" he grins as he starts thrusting hard, sweeping thrusts into your G-spot. “I like that. Let everyone hear who’s fucking your cunt so good.”

He stares down at the place where you and him connect. Your pussy feels sticky all over as he fucks your juices out. His cock works in and out of you at a mean pace and you moan louder and louder as he goes faster and faster, totally turning your brain to mush.

"Ooh fuck!" you gasp each time he reaches a new depth with his tip.

Sukuna thumbs skillfully at your clit while pushing his cock as deep as your pussy will let him go.

He doesn't know where to look, because your breasts are sluttily bouncing in your dress and your exposed lower tummy is shuddering with each thrust of his big cock.

His breathing gets ragged, and he grunts, positioning himself at a better angle so he can reach deeper.

At this angle his cock has you seeing stars. Your mouth makes an O shape and you go silent, unable to moan because of how good it feels. How funny, he thinks. He's fucked you so good you can’t even moan, your voice is gone.

But then it comes back louder than ever.

"S'kuna!! Fuckfuckfuck moreright there please FUCK ahhhh god fuck I loveyousomuch pleasedon'tstopfuckingme!!"

His ego inflates after catching that ‘I love you so much’.

"That’s it, love me – never him, understand?" he growls seriously, and suddenly stills inside you. “Say it. You love me and not him.”

You gasp, feeling his tip pressing against your cervix.

"Yes! I love you, not him!”

Sukuna grunts and keeps pressuring your cervix with his cock. He roughly squeezes your hips, your stomach, your breasts like a primal lover.

"Tell me I fuck you better than Gojo Satoru. Scream it.”

His rough, animalist thrusts start up again and your eyes roll back, mouth hung open and teeth bearing when it feels too good.

"Y-you fuck me better than Gojo Satoru!" you scream.

Sukuna keeps making you scream this over and over.

"Keep fucking saying it, I'm getting so close." he groans.

Then a feeling comes over him, like someone's outside the door. He smirks and gives a glance behind him at the closed door.

"Say it again." Sukuna commands you, eyes still on the door. He's pure evil.

"You fuck me so good, S'kuna!" you babble, "You fuck me better than Gojo!"

"That's a good fuckin' girl.” He growls nastily, “Now keep telling me how much better I am than him while you take this fucking cock." he growls and starts thrusting into you harder and faster until his sticky balls slap into you loudly.

Sukuna keeps fucking you until your body jiggles at the force of his thrusts. You shift up the bed and cling to the headboard, Sukuna sees your tiny hand grab it and he puts his hand over yours.

Hands off your body, he fucks you full of his cock and makes sure it's as loud as possible.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Nnnh don't stop!" you gasp, feeling a G-spot stimulated orgasm building up in your pussy.

"Yeah, cum. Cum for me and only me." Sukuna growls and pounds into you.

"Fuck, S'kunaaa 'm cumming on your b-big cock!" you scream, unable to keep quiet at all with how his cock is fucking you.

You shake from head to toe and feel your pussy constrict tightly around his big cock. He watches your eyes roll back and your body tense up as you cum long and hard. Sukuna groans and feels your milking contractions and it gets him close to his own orgasm.

"Hear that?" he talks, but not to you. "This pussy’s all mine now. I’m gonna fuckin’ claim it.”

He leans down and asks you clearly; "Baby, do you want me to take the condom off and cum inside?" he asks.

"Yes! Yes please! Fuck me raw, cum inside!" you cry, feeling his cock continue to pound into you after your orgasm.

"Good girl. Taking my fucking dick so good." he slides out and pulls the condom off his cock with a little difficulty, his fingers slipping. He gets a grip on the end and peels it off his cock and tosses the condom onto the pillow next to your head.

Sukuna enters you again and gets right back to the same pace he was fucking you with earlier.

"Fuck!" you gasp, thrashing your legs around. "Fuck, oh my god!"

"I'm close..." he closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

You look behind you to see him, eyes catching on his tattoos and flexing muscles. He's sweating and grunting, pounding into you like he's proving a point. Because he is.

"Fuck. I'm cumming, take it all." he growls and holds your body almost suffocatingly tightly.

You roll your eyes back when you feel him push himself as deep as he can go. Hot ropes of his sticky cum spurt out of his cock, filling you up so much that you can really feel it. Your pussy milks him through his orgasm and he moans brokenly.

"Fuck..." he slaps your ass hard, and thrusts a little bit more inside you just so that sloppy sound fills the room.

"Listen to that creampied pussy. Sounds like it's all mine now, huh Gojo?"

You blink dumbly.

Gojo smirks behind the closed door and walks away, shaking his head, muttering curses under his breath at his boss.

Well, how unfortunate, Sukuna fucked his jealousy out into your pussy, but now Gojo is throbbing with jealousy as he walks away from the door, defined jaw clenching tight and cock rock hard in his tight pants.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

break up with your boyfriend

Yandere trans!fem cheerleader x fem reader

It was so shittily made but I need to pump out more fics or else my blog will die. Thank you all for 1k followers though! I'll rewrite this in the future maybe

Tw: mentions of blackmailing, nsfw, slight breeding kink, batshit crazy girlfriend,not proofread, another oc mentioned!?🌺

💄Eva saccharine has been your girlfriend since she first started transitioning. You helped her style her hair, do her nails, pick her clothes, find good makeup, anything she needed to feel like the real her. So when freshman year rolled in, it came as no surprise to you she fit right in with the clique.

💐Ofcourse you had your fears she'd choose them over you but that wasn't the case, because she'd make you eat lunch with them and sit on her lap, not so subtly humping your ass while talking all about cheer practice

🛍️boys wanted to date her, girls wanted to be her. She just wanted you, to just be the two baddest bitches on the block. It didn't matter if you were just like her or the complete opposite, she gushed over you. Praising you for being her good girl, her sweet little princess, her obedient pocket pussy-

💄but at this current moment? She was busy bullying your insides, forcing her fat cock into your slippery hole as she held you steady by your waist. Biting and groaning everytime she'd feel you squeeze that certain spot on her dick

"fu-uuckkk.. baby cakes, 'yer squeezin' me so goood.. ah.. hah.. you wouldn't mind if I pumped a few babes into your tight cunny right? Wanna be my baby mama?"

💐that made you squeeze tighter, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. She had you face down, ass up and damn near breaking your back with how hard she was going. Hearing the normally composed and playful eva turn into a drooling pussy-drunk mess had you feeling butterflies, just going plap play plap-

🛍️let's just say, by the end of it, you couldn't walk for days afterwards. But no amount of hickies and perfume would be able to scare away a rather persistent guy. He was on the football team, star quarterback, rich asshole. sam white. Eva hated his guts, he thinks he can just waltz in and steal her bitch? Not on her watch.

💄this little feud had been going on for a while, and more times than you could count you've been caught in the crossfire. Though it was kinda funny, seeing them screeching insults at eachother and bickering. Eva would sassily flick her blonde hair and grab you by the collar of your neck, Dragging you away while Sam hooted and hollered at your retreating form

💐you never questioned her morbid fascination with anything horror or paranormal related. She was just obsessed with regular girl things. wanting you to help her summon a demon once, but you aren't that stupid, making blood pacts with them could result in very unsavory ending's and you quite cherished your soul and body

🛍️Eva has more than one account on different social medias, pretending to be multiple different people and Stalking your posts. She'd slide into your dms and flirt, seeing if you'd really cheat on her. She's so happy when you instantly block the account, guess you'll survive not being sent to her basement for another week

💄she has the audacity to grab a frilly pink pen and make you wear clothes that purposely shows off what she wrote. In bright bold lettering, Eva's little cum dump ♡ . Maybe she'll let you bring a jacket, only if you beg her really hard with those big doe eyes she loves. She put a collar and leash on you too

💐don't try breaking up with her, she takes 'they go low, I go lower" to another level. Threatening to post pictures of you in rather compromising positions. When did she record all of this? Who knows. She won't refrain from spreading nasty rumors of you that just force you to come sobbing into her arms, if you try and get comfort from somebody else she won't hesitate to eliminate them. Don't you see? She's the final girl, and you're her love Interest

"I told you not to run pretty baby.. now look what you've done. I gotta fix your mess up~.."

moral of the story: be a loyal loving girlfriend and she'll spoil you rotten with her daddy's black card ♥️