Wanted To Draw My Faves Together

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Wanbelyn Masterlist

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × nurse!reader

start : December 4th 2023 KST / December 3rd 2023 (author time)

status : completed (April 18th 2024 KST / April 17th 2024 author time)

updates : every day, 12.30 am KST

✨️ - written chapter

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introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | ch. iv ✨️ | ch. v | ch. vi ✨️ | ch. vii | ch. viii | ch. ix | ch. x | ch. xi ✨️ | ch. xii | ch. xiii | ch. xiv | ch. xv | ch. xvi | ch. xvii ✨️ | ch. xviii | ch. xix | ch. xx | ch. xxi | ch. xxii ✨️ | ch. xxiii | ch. xxiv | ch. xxv | ch. xxvi | ch. xxvii | ch. xxviii | ch. xxix | ch. xxx | ch. xxxi | ch. xxxii ✨️ | ch. xxxiii | ch. xxxiv | ch. xxxv | ch. xxxvi | ch. xxxvii ✨️ | ch. xxxviii | ch. xxxix | ch. xl | ch. xli | ch. xlii | ch. xliii | ch. xliv | ch. xlv ✨️ | ch. xlvi | ch. xlvii | ch. xlviii | ch. xlix | ch. l | ch. li | ch. lii | ch. liii | ch. liv | ch. lv ✨️ | ch. lvi | ch. lvii ✨️ | ch. lviii | ch. lix | ch. lx | ch. lxi | ch. lxii | ch. lxiii | ch. lxiv | ch. lxv | ch. lxvi | ch. lxvii | ch. lxviii | ch. lxix | ch. lxx ✨️ | ch. lxxi | ch. lxxii | ch. lxxiii ✨️ | ch. lxxiv | ch. lxxv | ch. lxxvi | ch. lxxvii | ch. lxxviii | ch. lxxix | ch. lxxx ✨️ | ch. lxxxi | ch. lxxxii | epilogue

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the bites cut deep

a megumi x reader one-shot inspired by this smau // masterlist

cw // mentions of injury (dog bite), blood (minor), dead body (used as a simile). mentions of hospital/clinic, medical care. angst, no comfort, cussing. 1.2k words.

the bites cut deep in more ways than one.

megumi stands awkwardly before you now in a small room within shoko’s office. its familiar to him, but not to you. the room is uneasier than usual. the fluorescent lights make the white of the gauze around your leg glow and the red of your blood even harsher. they buzz too loudly in the silence between you. he wishes he could turn them off, he wishes they didn’t glare across your face so brightly.

“i didn’t tell them to attack you,” megumi finally says, stepping closer to you, just inches away. his words are cold though, unattached. his arms hang limply at his sides, he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. you don’t quite meet his, either.

“so why did they?” you respond, soft and confused. you can’t help but shift in your seat, the paper beneath you on the exam table crinkling through the tension. megumi swallows hard, his gaze flickering away to the linoleum ground beneath his shoes. his hands flex and release, wanting to reach out to you but unable to bring himself to do so through the lie that's about to boil over.

“i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” this time you look right into his unreadable face. “it’s… that’s not good enough for me.”

megumi clenches his jaw, the tension coiling like a tight spring. “it’s not about you.”

“what are you talking about?” your voice is still quiet, dismayed. “your dogs bit me. how is this not about me?”

“you’re taking this too personally,” you can see his eyes spark with anger, just for a moment.

your heart starts to pound in your chest, the fresh bite marks throbbing in sync with the rhythm. “how am i supposed to take it, then? you told me that your divine dogs respond only to you, to your thoughts and feelings. do you expect me not to feel anything with puncture wounds in my leg?”

“it’s not like i meant for it to happen,” megumi snaps, expression hardening as he finally meets your eyes. “you just don’t understand.”

“then tell me.”

“i don’t know how,” his voice starts to rise. “i don’t know how to explain how dangerous this all is! i don’t know how to make you understand that it’s not safe for you to be around here. or me.”

“i’m not asking for safety, i’m asking for the truth!” your voice cracks with your frustration finally spilling over. “just tell me.”

megumi’s breath hitches. just for a moment, something painful, raw, and unguarded comes across his face. but it's gone after a split second, replaced by the cold, stoic mask he always wears. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“i think i already know, so just tell me,” your voice trembles. for what seems like an eternity, the two of you just stare at each other. to megumi, you're staring into his soul; picking apart and analyzing every possible atom that creates him. to you, megumi's eyes are simply sharp and angry; deep-blue eyes swirling with hurricanes of regret and resentment.

megumi opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates with a small gasp. the words begin to fall, tight and strained, like you were wrenching them out of his throat by force.

"i don't know how to love you."

you don't respond. your heart twists violently, sending a surge of rushing blood and fear through your bones. it's exponentially more powerful than the adrenaline that ripped through you after the dogs' jaws clamped into your leg.

"i tell myself i don't love you. it's easier than admitting that i'm the one who makes... us... difficult."

"you tell yourself you don't love me?" you whisper, hot tears brimming in your eyes. "since when?"

megumi looks away. "since the beginning."

"the beginning?" the rushing blood in your veins turns hot, your anger growing uncontrollably. "so, what? y-you don't love me? never have? you've just been pretending- no, lying to me all this time?

"no!" he shoots back, voice piercing and defensive. "i wasn't pretending! i just-"

"-you just what?" it's another staring match again. you and the boy you've loved for so long now, bitterly daring the other to speak first.

"it's not that simple."

you don't say anything at first, blinking blankly, attempting to process the muddling emotions in your head. "then explain it. because from what i understand, you've been stringing me along this entire relationship. you've been telling yourself that you don't give a fuck about me while manipulating me to believe you did."

"i care," megumi's voice cracks.

"how?"

"i-that's the problem! i care too much. can't you see that?" he's flipped a switch, almost desperate through the anger to make you understand now. "if i keep loving you, i'm just going to hurt us. i'll just hurt you."

"like you just did?" with wild eyes, you gesture towards the gauze around your leg, still pulsing with pain.

"yeah..." megumi swallows. "...like i just did."

"...i don't get it, megumi," the tears are slipping down your cheeks now. "you just... convinced yourself i wasn't real? and the dogs came after me because of that? i don't get it."

"i don't know," his chest heaves. "i let myself feel what i want when i'm with you. and when i leave, i just... tell myself how fucking stupid i am for letting myself do that. it's better than hurting you."

"you've already hurt me, megumi!" you sob. "and you've been doing it this entire time we've been together, it's just that neither of us even knew it!"

his face completely falls now, eyes wide with disbelief. he doesn't even feel the pain of his fisted nails digging into his palms, knuckles bright white. "i thought it was better this way," he whispers hoarsely.

"maybe for you," you wipe at your tears, the aching in your chest growing stronger with each heartbeat. "i never wanted you to protect me from whatever feelings you were hiding. i just wanted you."

"i-i don't know how to do that," he stammers. "i'm sorry. i... don't know how to give myself to you."

"i just don't think you want to."

silence falls like a dead body between you. megumi is forlorn, grasping desperately for words, the right words, to say to you. he wants to tell you 'i do! i do want to! that's what i've wanted all along!' but it doesn't come. he tries to tell you 'i love you, please... i always have. please, teach me how to let me love you?' but he's frozen with a compulsing heart.

megumi watches your wet, wounded eyes rise from the floor and directly into his own. he watches you search hopelessly for something, anything, in his face. something to save you, something to save him. but it just isn't there.

in that exact moment, megumi realizes that he cares too much. he loves you too much. and no matter the extent his care for you goes, he will never be able to truly let you in.

"leave, megumi."

and without another word, he finds his body moving against his thoughts. megumi doesn't look back. the door latches loudly behind him, leaving you completely alone. the buzzing of the sickening flourescent lights returns in full force, making bile rise in your throat.

the bites cut deep in more ways than one.

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

An Ode to Lost Love.

✞ — Synopsis: What was that quote about another's silence? “Be leery of silence. It doesn't mean you won the argument. Often, people are just busy reloading their guns.” Right. You should’ve seen this coming, really, it was a little stupid of you to believe he just forgot all about you.

✞ — Warnings: MDNI. Dark content, implied stockholm syndrome, mentions of murder, the reader receives death threats, yandere behaviour, violence, blood, injuries, asphyxiation, the reader is knocked unconscious, concussion, heavy manipulation, preying on the reader, dumbification, objectification, gaslighting, non-con, dubcon (but hardly, it's a very grey area), disassociation, minimal/no prep vaginal sex, burning/marking in detail, reader vomits once due to injuries, creampie, breeding kink, baby trapping, Dabi flipflops a lot between emotions.

✞ — Word Count: 7k

✞ — Notes: This is a Dabi x female!Reader. This is my first real dark content fic. If this is not your cup of tea, please do not interact. Please take care with the warnings, it's very much a dead dove: do not eat. Posted over on AO3 too for ease of reading. I definitely do not condone anything that has been written here, I'm also not romanticising noncon or any of the warnings. Thank you for taking the time to read it, remember to take care and enjoy :)

Living in the aftermath of someone's destruction was just as you would expect; chaotic, and lonesome. You had signed up for this all those years ago but you hadn’t expected it to turn out quite like this. You were never going to get used to the stares when someone recognised you in the store, or the smashed windows of the local youth who wanted to shame someone who was tricked with the promise of something more. 

Though you didn’t feel ashamed for what you had done, nor did you regret it – for the most part, anyway. Sure you had regretted keeping silent when you saw a man lose his life because of a simple mistake, you should’ve left when you realised that you were being lied to. That the man you had fallen in love with was not a misunderstood young man but rather a cruel and deceiving criminal. 

The man in question? Touya Todoroki – also most commonly known as Dabi.

You hated this part of town, it was… less than decent. Run down and filled with low-life criminals who were on the run or simply just wanted to live a somewhat normal life. The walls of the buildings you pass by are decaying, unrepaired from when heroes did decide to pay a visit to the neglected parts of the cities and towns they were supposed to serve and protect. 

What a fucking lie.

It’s not that you hated hero society, per se, but you also knew how disgusting some of the heroes still were. After everything Touya went through after he poured his heart out to you and the rest of the world – nothing fucking changed. Of course, it had pissed you off when they exhausted him to the point of near death before carting him off to Tartarus, they were sweeping him under the rug to be forgotten about. You attempted to reach out to the other members of the liberation but none of them wanted anything to do with you, you weren’t a villain. You were just attached to one.

The stairs up to your rundown apartment were practically crumbling with each step, you made sure to avoid the 8th step that was shattered entirely. When you first moved here, you thought it would only be for a short amount of time, just somewhere to lay low to avoid the probing questions of the heroes who wondered if you were compliant in any of Touya’s crimes. But the two-year timeframe you gave yourself quickly turned to three, then five, and now here you were eight years later. The apartment building looked the same as when you first moved in, the mysterious stain on the carpet leading to your apartment had never been removed and you’re pretty sure the world will end before it’s ever cleaned.

Your door opened with a creak, the old hinges were hanging on for dear life and you never worked up the nerve to ask the guy who let you live here to try and fix it. Of course, you would do it yourself, if it were not for the fear of breaking it entirely and having no door at all in such a shady neighbourhood. With a click of the door behind you, your entire body relaxes with a drop of your shoulders and you drop the keys in the chipped bowl by the front door.

Once free of your shoes, you trudge further into the apartment. Inside it was much nicer than outside, you had made sure to work hard to make yourself comfortable here. At first, you hesitated on decorating, the constant voice in the back of your head telling you that Dabi—Touya wouldn’t like it. But it became easier over time, as the claws he had sunk in your flesh had loosened with each passing day without him leering over you. Of course, he still lingered deep in your bones, scars like the ones he left on you would never truly go away.

You hadn’t realised you were quite so ‘damaged’ until after he was gone. When you were suddenly allowed to break the surface of the water Dabi had been holding you down beneath to see you squirm, it was jarring, to say the least. You struggled day to day wondering what to do with yourself, you had no one to direct your every move or to care for you the way he had. The first couple of years were the worst, a constant void in place of where your heart should be. You longed to have Dabi back, to card your fingers through soft snow-like hair, you missed his insufferable warmth. It had suffocated you at first until it became a comfort, something you needed to get through the day. 

The letters you sent back and forth with him had helped some, the smell of smoke and ash when you’d open a new letter from him would get you through the darkest of nights. He had always had a way with his words, not many would think that of Touya, he hadn’t finished school and he most definitely didn’t have the support through his teenage years but he had taught himself how to read and write. And he was very good at it, very fucking good.

With each letter, you could practically hear his voice, the syrupy low tone that would muddle your brain and numb your nerves. Those letters had started to grow more erratic, it morphed from the loving Touya you had been privileged to know in the safety of his bedroom into Dabi, a cruel villain who wanted you to suffer just as he had. He didn’t take it easy when you told him you were starting to question the legitimacy of your relationship with the scarred man. He grew unkind with his words, the I love you turning into I wish you were fucking dead at the end of each letter. 

He felt betrayed, you figured, everyone he had known had abandoned him and you were just the same as the rest of them. His final letter went into gruesome detail as to what he would do to you once he got out, how his hands may be made to burn but he would relish in watching the light leave your eye when he choked you to death. You didn’t need to read further to know he would’ve gone into detail about what he’d then do with your dead body. That was the last letter you had read, but they continued to come every fortnight like clockwork until they didn’t. You figured he might’ve gotten bored, or perhaps someone had taken him out on the inside. There wasn’t a shortage of people who would want Dabi dead.

The bag in your hand was heavy as you dropped it onto the counter of the tiny kitchen, the relief in your wrist was instantaneous and you could finally relax fully. Your eyes close for a brief moment, relishing in the quiet of the apartment with the distant sound of sirens from down on the street. It was good to be home, each trip was harder than the last with the fear of being recognised by heroes, or worse. With the safety of your home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, you reopened your eyes to begin the trivial task of putting away the groceries. But as you step further into the kitchen, it’s as if your entire body is dunked into ice water.

There’s a letter. An open letter was pinned to the old wooden cupboard with one of the knives from the rack. You don’t need to get closer to know which letter it is, the paper is well-worn and the big hearts he had drawn at the bottom are enough of an indicator. It’s the one he sent you on your birthday. It was riddled with love confessions, how he missed you more than anything in the world and when he’d get out he promised your hand in marriage. A life you wanted but knew you’d never get with a man like Dabi.

You take a step back, hip bumping into the corner of the counter to startle you into action. You whip around, ready to run out of the apartment but instead, your path is cut off almost instantly. There’s a broad chest in front of you, wide shoulders and a head of snowy white hair that you would recognise in a crowd of a thousand people. When you meet his eyes, he’s sneering down at you with a heat in his eyes that you saw moments before he would burn someone alive.

“Hello, doll. Miss me?” His voice hasn’t changed in the eight years apart, it’s still got a timbre to it that you can feel deep in the pit of your stomach. He looks bigger, somehow, the muscles of his neck and shoulders look firmer. He had always loomed over you but now he seemed even taller, swallowing the room whole with just his aura alone. Dabi must be able to see the way you’re eyeing him up, not quite in the way you had in the past but rather in a way that makes him excited; you were thinking of running.

You’re horribly predictable, he realises as you dash to the other side of the kitchen to dart around the tiny kitchen island that really didn’t give you any sort of head start. You can hear him click his tongue, then huffing a sigh before there’s the loud squeak of his boots and the thump of his bounding footsteps as he chases after you. The apartment is small, you don’t have a whole lot of room to make your escape so you have to rush past him when he starts to corner you into the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom. 

A big mistake, you realise. He’s always been quick, and lithe on his feet and it reminded you of when a snake would strike. Fast and precise. His hands grab at your ribcage, easily swiping you off your feet before you’re slammed against the closest wall with a bang of your head on the wall. The world swirls when you try to look at him, the blue of his eyes glowing with mirth at the fact you even tried to outrun him. You’ve never been able to do it before, so what made you think you could do it this time?

“Silly fucking bitch,” He snarls in your face, the heat coming from his hands alone makes you squirm uncomfortably, you can feel the sting of welts starting to form on your skin in the shape of his hands. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you? You really fucking thought I’d forget about you?” Your silence isn’t what he wanted, apparently, as he pulls you from the wall just to slam you against it once again before throwing you to the floor. The movement has your stomach churning, bile rising in your throat when your head impacts on the floor again. 

“I’d never forget about you, never.” His weight is heavy as he settles atop you, his thighs effectively pinning you beneath him before his hands descend onto your throat. His eyes are wide, manic, his lips parted in a twisted grin that makes him look more like the Devil himself. “Remember what I said to you? Hm? You remember the letters I sent?” You choke against his hands when he pushes harder, your fingers instinctively trying to come up and loosen his hold on you. “FUCKING ANSWER ME!” The spit of his words hits you in the face, but your entire head feels numb and fuzzy, your lips hurt – everything does.

“Y–” He leans in closer, sneering in your face and it does nothing to relieve the pressure on your throat. You’re going to die, he’s actually going to do it. “Yes!” you croak, hardly an audible word but Dabi hears it loud and clear. He holds eye contact as if he’s waiting for something, you’re not quite sure. Maybe he’s waiting for you to die, he had wanted to see the life drain from your eyes—

His hands come away from your throat, a too-hot hand latching on the underside of your jaw and his blunt nails dig into your cheeks. You suck in a harsh breath, choking on the sudden reintroduction of oxygen but you don’t get much longer to relish the fact you’re still alive. Dabi looms over you, the outline of his body blocks out the dingy yellow light overhead, giving him a grim outline that you have to squint at when you look up at him properly.

“Yeah? Then why’d you ignore me? Why’d you make me think you were fucking dead, or that you were busy getting fucked by some other guy like the whore that you are.” There’s a warning in his eye that prompts you to reply.

“I–I was scared!” you clear your throat uncomfortably, the confession coming from your mouth unwillingly but it was the hard truth. You were terrified of him and the things he had said to you, solely because you knew he would go through with it. If Dabi was anything, then he was a man of his word. His fingers curl harder into your jaw, forcing your mouth to open with the pressure. The look in his eye terrifies you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking with the way his eyes bounce back and forth between your own. He’s searching, you belatedly realise, searching to see if you’re telling the truth.

“Good,” he finally says, “You should be fucking scared.” He pulls your head from the floor just to smash it back against the floor in a blink of an eye. Everything falls into inky darkness.

There’s a distant sound of water running, but it sounds like it’s miles away. Your mind starts to slowly swirl back to life, the pain at the back of your head blossoming into something fierce that has a pained groan coming from your lips.

When you open your eyes, you’re no longer looking up at the ceiling of your hallway but rather at the ceiling fan in your bedroom, you’re not sure if it’s actually on or if your vision is still swimming. Nothing is quite adding up, how did you end up here? You were on the floor, and a ghost of something heavy atop of you had your mind jogging to try and catch up. But you weren’t always on the floor, something had put you there — no, someone had put you there. Dabi.

He’s not here, as far as you can tell, there’s no immediate warmth that comes with him when he steps into a room but there’s a distant smell of ash. He was still lurking. The shooting pain in the back of your head has your body jolting, muscles seizing up before they relax once the pain subsides just enough to let you breathe.

You were no idiot, you had hit your head a number of times, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were teetering on the edge between life and death. Though that doesn’t deter you when your mind finally catches up with you, you have to get out of here. If he’s not here right now, then you have a chance to leave. This might be the last chance you have.

With a great effort that has your face screwing up, eyes clenched shut, you roll yourself onto your side until your face is stuffed into the soft cotton of your bed sheets that you huff against. Your entire body felt like it was being weighed down, your muscles screamed when you slowly got your arms beneath you to push yourself up enough to stare down at the bed. Instantly your eyes lock onto the patch of still-wet blood, the stain was massive and the sight of it had your stomach threatening to empty itself. Or maybe that was the concussion.

Your feet slip on the floor when you try to find your footing, your knees colliding with the floor with a muted thud that you hope Dabi doesn’t hear. The feeling of your jeans against the skin of your knees is relieving, you knew Dabi preferred for you to be … conscious, but you wouldn’t put it past him to want something regardless of whether you were awake or not. Slowly, you get up onto unsteady feet as if you had never walked a day in your life before. Your vision swims again when you stand up straight, it feels as if your head is ten times the size it is as it lolls back in threat of toppling you over again.

But just as you’re about to fall, there are hands catching you beneath your armpits and letting your head land against a shoulder – a bare one, but your mind doesn’t quite connect the dots just yet. “You really are pathetic, aren’t you? You can’t do anything without me, no wonder you panicked when I wasn’t here anymore…” Dabi drawls into your ear, but his voice sounds like it’s submerged in water. He breathes in a heavy exasperated sigh, his body jostling yours. “C’mon doll, let’s get you cleaned up. You made such a mess.”

There’s no room to argue, not that you would be able to form one with how your tongue tingles and your throat burns. Dabi is anything but graceful with the way he drags you towards the bathroom, uncaring for your feet that slip or bang against the corner of the shoddy old wooden door as you pass by.

There’s a bang of a door and you’re submerged in sticky warmth, the steam from the bathtub filling the room to the point where you can’t quite see more than a few inches in front of your face. With a shove and a push, you find your hands pressed into the slippy tile of your bathroom sink, your mind still too foggy to control your extremities and you find yourself pressed against the cool glass mirror.

You can feel Dabi’s eyes on you as he watches you struggle to get your bearings, your forehead pressed to the glass is soothing against the deafening thunderstorm in your head. His fingers are long when they wrap themselves carefully around your throat this time, pressing into the bruises you weren’t aware had already formed from his previous attack. Your head slumps back against his shoulders and you can just make out the glowing blue of his eyes as he stares right back at you, it always felt like he had the ability to stare into your soul.

“Look at you…” He coos, voice a soft contrast to the harsh voice from earlier. His spare hand cards through your hair, brushing past the gash on the back of your head that has you wincing. “My poor baby, you did this all to yourself.” Had you? You supposed he did have a point, you did ignore his letters, and you did try to run when he always told you to never do it. If you weren’t so stupid you might’ve avoided this, you shouldn’t have turned your back on him.

His burning fingers slide up from your throat until he grabs at your jaw once again, angling your head to stare at yourself directly in the mirror. Even through the thickness of the steam you can see you look on the verge of half-dead, there’s no life to your eyes, no usual glow to your skin. It’s horrifying to see yourself looking like a different person entirely. You were no longer you, but rather you were reduced back to the role of being Dabi’s plaything. Dabi hums deep in his throat as if he can hear the sluggish thoughts rolling around in your mind, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

“Look what you did to my baby, my doll. She’s all broken and for what? Because you forgot your place?” He clicks his tongue, chin withdrawing from your shoulder until he’s drawn back up to his full height and you can just make out the look on his face. His nostrils flared, lips drawing into a grim line and eyes half-lidded. “Maybe I should do you a favour, remind you of your place.” Dabi spins you on the spot, steadying your whirling head with both of his hands before he takes a careful step back and you can’t help but wonder if he plans on reminding you of your place by finally putting you out of your misery.

“Strip.”

What?

“Don’t make me do it for you, you won’t like it.” It’s a very clear warning, blaring sirens and red flags. You have to blink hard, will your mind to work with your trembling hands that attempt to grab at the bottom of your shirt. It feels like an eternity goes by until you’re dropping the shirt onto the floor with a wet plop, your eyebrows furrow at the sound but when you attempt to look down your vision swims again – “Useless.” Dabi grumbles before his warmth is pressed to your front, the smell of forest fire smoke choking you.

His fingers are quick and precise when they undo the buttons of your jeans before they’re shoved down your thighs, pooling at your ankles and Dabi is at least courteous enough to let you hold his forearms when you climb out of them until you’re left in just your underwear.

As if appraising a piece of art in a museum, Dabi lets his eyes slowly trail over flesh that he had seen an endless amount of times in the past. His head tilts slowly, regarding the swell of your breasts in the cup of your bra and the softness of your stomach, the way your hips pudge a little from the tight elastic of your plain underwear.

Still engulfing your personal space with his heat, he lets a hand slide up along your side, pressing dangerously into your ribs to hear the sharp inhale of when his fingers brush into bruised skin and muscle. Cerulean eyes level with your own when he inches around to the back of your bra, his fingers seemingly hardly move before the straps slip down your shoulders and the cups slacken on your chest. He plucks it from your body, letting it drop to the floor before his fingers trail back around to your front.

He keeps his head tilted, gaze redirected down to your chest and he can’t help but wet his tongue in anticipation. You had always been his most prized possession, the most beautiful, a masterpiece that was all for him. Those same too-hot fingers trail along the underside of your breasts, feeling the weight of them before groping one much too hard in one large palm. His fingers curl cruelly, squeezing as if it were a stress ball and all you could do was take it, your face crumpling in pain much to his delight.

“I trusted you, y’know.” He all but mumbles, gaze not lifting from the way your tit spills between his fingers when he gives another squeeze. “I thought it would always be me and you, against the world or whatever the fuck they say.” His thumb and index finger mercilessly pinch your nipple, tugging on it harshly to pull a pitiful cry from your mouth.

The sound has his eyes flicking up to yours, watching the way your lashes clump with unshed tears and how you’re not even attempting to stop the saliva dribbling from your lips. You really were so pathetic. Dabi chews on his scarred bottom lip for a moment, tossing over a thought in his mind but instead he opts to move his fingers to your neglected nipple, pulling and tugging until you’re a snivelling mess.

“‘M sorry!” You sob, the volume of your voice makes your head throb and the tears falling in fat streaks make your head feel heavier. “I’m sorry, Touya! Please, I–I didn’t know what to do without you.” The use of his name makes his eyebrow twitch, jaw clicking in place when he glares at you. It’s a low blow, to use his name like that and he knows you know that. He had always forbidden you from using that name unless you were given permission.

“Last warning, doll. I’m being nice here. You don’t get to use that name when you betrayed me.” His words have your mouth closing, bottom lip wobbling in an effort to keep yourself from openly crying in front of your tormentor. He would only ridicule you for it, tease you and see how far he could go before you broke apart from his words alone. Dabi doesn’t wait to pull down your panties next, the material dragging and scratching at your skin until they’re pooled at your feet along with everything else. “Turn around.”

And you do. You wordlessly turn, letting your hands brace on the sink once again before you meet your own gaze in the mirror. You somehow looked worse, the snot and saliva made you look quite like the snivelling petulant child that Dabi spoke to you like. There’s a clink of a belt before it hits the floor, the dropping of your heart into your stomach threatens to tip you over the edge.

A boot kicks your ankles apart, uncaring for the way you flinch at just how hard he kicks you. You’re perched over the sink, your stomach twitching every time it touches the cold porcelain. Dabi had only ever forced himself onto you a handful of times in the past, at the start of your “relationship”, he always soothed your tears and hushed your refusal with false promises hidden in between his sickly sweet words.

Over time the lines blurred between him forcing himself onto you and you willingly opening your legs for him when he asked for it. It pleased him to see you listening to him, and he became ‘softer’ if that was a possible word to describe a villain like him. Time spent with Dabi got easier when he was softer, it actually felt believable when he whispered into your ear at night how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. It was hard to distinguish his lies and the truth when he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars.

A searing hot hand pressed to your bare ass has your mind jolting, bile rising momentarily in your throat until you lean into the coolness of the sink once again. Those same fingers that feel as if they had come from the depths of hell brush their way down over your sensitive skin until they find their way between your thighs. And much to your embarrassment, you’re wet. Biology was a cruel mean thing, your body was still hardwired to react to the man of your nightmares lest you want to face the consequences. Your bottom lip wobbles, thankful for the fact Dabi is preoccupied with his new discovery.

His laugh is loud and boisterous, almost manic with the way his eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re fucking wet. I knew it,” he breathes in hard, pushing his hips flush with your own and you can feel the twitch of his leaky cock between your cheeks. “I knew you missed me, I knew you still loved me. This pussy never lied to me, unlike someone.” His words sting, a jab directly into your heart.

He sounds hurt, upset that you’d actually try to lie and hide away from him. It has fresh tears pricking your eyes, how could you hurt someone like him? Someone who loved you so devotedly.

Long deft fingers prod and poke between your thighs, pulling your lips apart crudely to watch the strings of arousal snap and cling to your thighs. He’s still chuckling deep in his chest, elated with the newfound knowledge that you still want him in such a carnal way. He circles your clit in clumsy patterns, enough to have your thighs tensing up and hips arching into the pleasure you’re unwillingly receiving. But the thing about Dabi is—

He’s not a patient man.

The tip of his cock pierces your unprepared hole, the pain shoots from deep in your pelvis and ricochets up your spine until it tingles at the base of your skull. Your hands help brace yourself over the sink, your head drops down and you’re vaguely aware of the way your throat aches with a scream. His fingers find a home in hidden bruises, the sting of his metal staples heating against your skin is familiar. Dabi had always been big, thick and unforgiving with the piercings that he adorned. Each of the barbells digs into your velvety walls, his hips so flush with yours you’re not sure where you end and he begins anymore.

“Fuck, missed this too much. Thought I’d never get to feel your cunt wrapped around me again.” His words are vulgar, but they spark something to life in your brain. Something you hadn’t quite considered until now. Just how was he here? Last you heard Dabi was never getting out, he killed too many people and committed far too many crimes to just be let loose on the world again.

Though you never got to air the question, his hips drawback until they’re smacking back against your ass. The pace from there on out is brutal, the tip of his cock bullies itself into your clenching cunt until it hits against your cervix. Each tap feels like you’re being punched in the gut, your lips parted in a soundless scream.

The pain was too much, the ache in your head was getting steadily worse and the back-and-forth thrashing of your body was making you woozy. “D–Dabi…” You try to speak, the words slurred with the saliva that dribbles from your parted mouth and drips into the sink.

“What?” He snarls, grunting with the effort of how hard he’s fucking you.

“Hurts.” You reply with a gasp, his fingers instantly latching around your throat until you’re pulled up to face what you assume must be the Devil leering over your shoulder with the most disgruntled expression on his face. 

You can smell the burning of flesh before the pain registers, the sizzling hardly audible over the sound of his hips slapping against your abused rear. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll teach you a fucking lesson. Next time you think about trying to leave me, you’ll remember how much it hurt.”

His fingers squeeze tighter around your throat until you can’t breathe, the horrid stench of marred flesh the only thing flooding your system when you desperately try to suck in air. Then you’re falling forward, your forehead plummeting with force against the mirror and you think you hear it smashing over the deafening ring in your ears. It feels like your head is being held under a pillow, like someone has pressed two large hands over your ears and held you there. Your throat burns, for a lack of a better word. The flesh bubbles and hisses with a reminder of Dabi’s words.

You’re not quite sure how much time has passed until you work up the strength to lift your gaze to the now-smashed mirror. The first thing you notice is the blood trickling down from a gash on your forehead, trailing down along the bridge of your nose until it meets the plumpness of your lips – filling the cracks with a metallic taste. Then you see it, the burn, it’s gnarly.

The flesh is hardly recognisable as flesh, it looks like butchered meat. It’s blistered already, layers of the skin open for the world to see and the sight finally does tip you over the edge. The bile doesn’t burn quite as much as the 3rd-degree handprint on your throat as you spill the contents of your stomach into the sink.

Dabi groans in anger, snarling as he retches you away from the sink and throws you onto all fours on the floor. “Disgusting fucking whore,” There’s something wet pressed to your mouth, a sponge you realise, as it drags roughly against your mouth until he forces it into your mouth. The scouring pad scrapes along your tongue, replacing the taste of vomit with soap. “Always making me clean up your messes.” Then it’s gone as fast as it came, your body being shoved and pushed until your back is against the bathmat and you’re staring up at Dabi who seems to be kneeling already between your thighs.

He wastes no time once again in pressing himself back inside of you, the stretch this time nowhere near as painful but it reignites the old ache of when he first forced himself inside. Your heart aches when you stare up at him, silhouetted by the flickering dim light of the bathroom bulb. It makes the white of his hair glow, angelic your brain supplies, but he was anything but an angel. His hands grab at your thighs, forcing them back until they uncomfortably press into your chest. The angle makes it hard to breathe, the furious pace he sets is agonising.

But your body is betraying you once again, the lewd squelch of your pussy is giving you away. A deep dark and twisted part of you has missed this, missed him. Missed the way he would fuck you like it was his last day on earth, like he had something to prove. It has an involuntary whimper leaving your throat, and of course, Dabi perks up at the sound – whilst he didn’t care much if you were silent the entire time, he always enjoyed the cute noises you’d make for him and only him. His eyes find yours, and you’re sucked into the endless expanse of the blinding blue Hellfire.

Dabi has a new goal in mind now, to fuck you the way he knows you liked to be fucked. His hips roll a little more fluidly, finding the old rhythm from all those years ago that surely would have your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your lips parting to sing him the most beautiful of songs with your moans. You don't disappoint him either, not when his thumb joins the fray and rubs languid circles against your puffy clit. The initial contact and stimulation have your hips jerking, fighting against the hold he has on you but it’s futile; he has you pinned beneath him much like a wolf would with its prey.

“There she is,” he grins when your fluttering eyes meet his, that contempt and confusion you had held onto for so long being replaced with a glassy look in your eye that must be lust. “There’s my fucking girl. Missed you so much baby, missed your cute noises. Y’gonna give me more, right? It’s the right thing to do, after all, you did hurt my feelings.” He still looks angelic angled over you like this, the shadows of his face almost hiding the glinting staples and scars that cover most of his body now. You can’t help but nod at his words, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

Dabi groans at your assent, fucking into you somehow harder. The slap of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass is loud, the sticky sound of his hips meeting yours fuels your own impending orgasm.

Of course, Dabi knows it’s coming too, his thumb presses firmer against your clit and moves a little faster to edge you closer and closer whilst he drops his hips just enough to have the tip of his cock hitting that squishy spot that no one but him has been able to reach. 

You can’t help but gasp and squeal, your back arching off of the floor until it slams back down when your orgasm hits you like a train. It’s violent, shakes through your bones like an earthquake would through a building. Your toes curl uncomfortably in the air, your thighs twitch in an attempt to close them to bar the man still torturing your clit from causing you any more pleasurable pain.

“Enough,” you try and push his hand away but Dabi never listens, he bats your hand away with a harsh slap that has your skin tingling in pain. “You’re gonna take it, like the good girl I know you are.” 

“Can’t.” 

“Yes you can,” He grapples your still twitching thighs until they tighten around his waist and then he’s diving down to your face. His breath is hot against your face, the smell of cigarette ash suffocates you.

“I know you can. Now kiss me.” He demands, and the fear of not obeying his command in such a compromising position has you indulging him. Your lips press against his, you work hard to try and keep yourself dispassionate but it’s impossible when he does the thing with the tip of his tongue – drags it along your bottom lip so delicately until he pries you open, lets the smooth expanse of his tongue coax yours out until he can suck on it. 

The steadily rising heat of the kiss engulfs you, douses you in an indescribable warmth that you can’t help but lean into the familiarity of it. It’s intoxicating to let go of that fear, to detach yourself from the person you had become in the eight years of solitude and recede back into the one who was simply in love with a man who was willing to burn down the world at her feet. But you’ve never been allowed to live in the illusion you formulate to ignore the harsh reality of things, Dabi would never give you that luxury.

His lips part from yours with a wet smack, saliva coating your lips and he grins again. The staples in his cheeks almost look like they might split as he stares at you, splayed out with a faraway look in your eye when you stare up at him.

“Gonna cum inside this beautiful pussy,” he breathes, eyes coming to life when your eyes slowly start to refocus on him and the words he’s letting spill from his saccharine mouth. “Fill you up nice and good with my cum, get you pregnant so you can never fucking leave me.” 

What? Is that what he wanted? You squirm in an attempt to get away from him, but he keeps you uncomfortably pinned in a deep mating press whilst his cock bullies itself deeper – you hadn’t even noticed the way it was twitching so harshly in the depths of your pussy until now. He was too close, he was really going to do it—

“Oh fuck, yeah, squeeze me like that baby. I knew you wanted me to breed you.” You don’t, you don’t want to be trapped with his child. It’s the ultimate thing he would hold over your head until the end of time, you could never escape him if you gave birth to a child that had the same dangerous eyes as his. “Aw, doll, don’t cry. It’s okay, I won’t leave you to raise the brat on its own. I’ll be there, always.” You hadn’t even realised you were crying until he mentioned it.

The groan that rumbles deep in Dabi’s chest and vibrates up through his throat is something you would never, ever, forget. It was a sound that meant only one thing; he was about to cum. You feel the twitch before the first spurt of molten cum paints your insides. That burn of your insides is something you had grown accustomed to after the time spent with Dabi, he had said it was because of his quirk. Everything about him was just hotter.

He holds himself balls deep in your dripping cunt, uncaring at the shuddering sob that shakes your body at the realisation that he’s going to keep his promise of making sure you get pregnant. The thought has your eyes closing, your head far too sore to think about what might just happen if you were to get pregnant with Dabi’s child.

Your body is limp when he effortlessly picks you up eventually, tucking his hands under your armpits before your feet are placed in something cold and wet. Your body starts with a jolt, your skin pricking with gooseflesh before you’re forced to sit down in the bathtub. Just how much time had passed for the bath to grow cold?

A warm chest is pressed to your back, pulling you effortlessly between long defined legs and arms loop around you like a safety belt. Dabi holds you there, his fingers stroking delicately along the skin he had bruised and marred not too long ago. You could almost fall into the allusion of him being a lover, a man who was simply giving you the aftercare you need.

The bath bubbles around you with the raising temperature, his skin is too hot for you to be laid up against like this and you can feel the staples burning their way into your flesh but you can’t find the strength anymore to fight back. He pushes you forward slightly to reach for a washcloth, dipping it into the scorching water and slowly but carefully dragging it along your bloodied skin. He doesn't go near the wound on your throat.

It feels like no time has passed at all since he left you and now, those eight years apart squashed into nothing when he noses his way into your hair and breathes in.

“How did you find me?” You speak eventually, Dabi remains silent for a moment and that only makes you worry more. 

“I always knew where you were. You shouldn’t trust everyone you meet.” 

And if that wasn’t the truth.

List of “it’s all about the kisses but add just a lil’ flavouring to it” prompts 

Character B pulling Character A closer by the small of their back/their waist as things get extremely heated (FUCKING JUST TAKE ME RIGHT THEN AND THERE YES YES YES YE SYE E-FJEWOINFW’LFNK i am malfuncTIONING YOUR HONOUR-)

Character A carding their fingers through Character’s hair 

Character A letting slip soft little noises as they kiss 

Character B letting their lips wander all over Character A’s face before pressing their lips against theirs again, stealing their breath away with another kiss

Character A’s hands slipping up Character B’s shirt, palms splaying on their back; fingers tracing down their spine

Character A giggling when Character B trails kisses down to their neck because they’re sensitive/ticklish there, which causes Character B to laugh along with them (LKNEWFLKNWFEN PLEAAASSSEEE I WILL CRYERWUIRB)

Character A pulling Character B closer by the nape of their neck

Smiling/laughing into the kiss (JUST. YES. YES. YES. A MILLION YESSES. GREEN FLAGS ALL AROUND IDFC WHAT YOU SAY) 

When it goes from innocent little pecks to them making out (What can I say? What can I say?? WHAT CAN I SAYYYYYYY?)

Character B’s hand stroking the side of Character A’s thigh as they kiss

Hands roaming all over each other 

Character B pulling away, exhaling a soft laugh as they hold Character A closer to them. “You good?” they ask, and Character A nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Character A murmurs, smiling a little as they hide their face on the crook of their neck, cheeks a little more flushed than usual. (PL EAS EE THAT LITTLE GIGGLE OF HIS WILL ALWAYS BE MY FAVOURITE THING ABOUT HIM WQRNEW;LKN’FKN and the check ins THE SWEETEST MAN FRRR) 

“A second chance”

A Scaramouche x GN!Reader fanfic

Spoilers for the 3.3 Archon Quest ahead!

Chapter 2: (Re)Introductions

You’re a scholar in Sumeru, plagued by the faintest memory of someone, someone you cared for deeply. But you couldn’t remember who. You soon meet a wandering eccentric, who seems vaguely familiar to you, but you just couldn’t figure out how.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

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You glanced at your clock as the sun seeped through the blinds.

6:29 AM

Yet another sleepless night. You decided to try staying up late working so you would be more tired, but to no avail. You were beginning to think that you should talk to someone about it. You got up, changing into your clothes for the day. You quickly hooked your vision to your hip before heading to your kitchen to get breakfast. But unfortunately for you, you seemed to forgotten to get groceries. You decided to just get some breakfast from a restaurant near by. You put on your shoes and went out the door.

Once you entered the restaurant, your eyes landed on him. The man from yesterday. What were the chances that he’d be here? He looked up and noticed you staring again, but these time he smiled and gave a small wave. You quickly glanced away, before going to your seat and looking at the menu. You settled on ordering Pita Pockets. You gave the waiter your menu and took a sip of your water.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed the man making his way to your table. You assumed he was just heading for the door, until he sat directly infront of you. “You know, you’ve been having a hard time keeping your eyes off of me recently. Could I ask why?” He asked, a slight smirk on his face.

“Uh, it’s just that you seem so familiar. But I can’t figure out how I know you, have we met before?” You replied.

“Well, it’s possible we’ve meet. I’ve travelled across numerous nations, from Inazuma to Sumeru,” he answered, waving a confused waiter over.

He must have moved tables before telling the order responsible for his order.

“Hm, then yeah I guess that’s possible. I was in Inazuma for a time not too long ago,” you admitted.

Shortly before the Sakoku decree, you had taken a trip to Inazuma. Unfortunately for you, the decree and been implemented shortly after your arrival. This caused you to be stuck in the nation for a time. You only just got back half a year ago.

“So, do you have a name?” You asked.

The man paused for a moment, before answering, “Well, I’ve gone by many titles in the past. But none really matter anymore. I suppose you can call me Kuni,”.

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you,” you smiled.

“Is that you calling me pretty?”, he smirked, resting his face against his palm.

“I suppose so,” you shrugged.

He shook his head, “Well, now that I’ve introduced myself, I believe it’s only fair that you give me your name,”.

“It’s Y/N, sadly it’s really the only title I’ve ever had. Besides acting sage,”.

“Acting sage?”.

“Well once the Dendro Archon got rid of our old sages, she asked a few scholars to temporarily become sages until we found people who actually wanted the job. Which we since have found said people,” you explained, the waiter placing your order infront of you.

“Ah, so you’re a scholar,” he nodded.

“And what do you do for living?” You questioned, taking a bite into your Pita Pockets.

“Oh I’m just a wanderer, I’ve long forsaken any typical styles of life,” he answered, drinking some of his tea.

“So like an adventurer?”.

“Something like that, except I have no intentions on leaving Sumeru for the time being,”.

“And why’s that?”.

“You’re full of questions aren’t you,” Kuni shook his head, “Well since you’re so curious, I have some unfinished business here. I can’t leave before I get it resolved,”.

“That business is?”.

“I feel like I’m being interrogated right now,” he sighed.

You chuckled, “Sorry, sorry. Here, I’ll answer some questions from you to make things fair,”.

He paused for a moment, thinking of something to ask, “Your vision, how did you get it?”.

“When I was younger, my friend and I had wandered off too far. We eventually found ourselves in the Abyss. We probably would have died if I didn’t receive my vision at that moment. Thankfully we weren’t stuck there for long though, after about a day we had managed to get out,” you explained, fiddling with your vision.

“That story seems vaguely familiar to me,” he said.

“It does? Surely receiving your vision as a result of falling into the Abyss isn’t that common?” You asked.

“You’d be surprised,” he shrugged, “Anyways, I’m curious, were you involved in the whole false god thing led by the akademiya?”.

“No, similar to the Scribe and General Mahamatra, I was kept in the dark about the whole thing. But I did help the Scribe with his whole plan to stop it,”.

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, before pulling out some Mora, “Well, I can only assume we should both get going, here I’ll pay for you,”.

“You really don’t need to, I have plenty of Mora,” you sighed, a guilty expression on your face.

He chuckled, “No really, I can take care of it. It’s the least I could do for taking up your time,”.

You nodded, “Alright, thank you Kuni,”.

He handed the waiter the Mora, then you both exited the restaurant. “I’m planning on going for a walk to the Lokapala Jungle later, would you like to come with me? Unless of course, you’re too worried about going too far and falling into the Abyss again,” he offered.

You smiled, ignoring his comment about the Abyss, “I’d love to, that place really is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve been there in awhile,”.

“Alright, I’ll see you around,” he smiled, before waking around.

What a strange man

You decided to head back to your home, not feeling like stopping by the Akademiya today. You still felt like Kuni was eerily familiar. You just had a gut feeling that you two had met on multiple occasions in the past. Much to your dismay, actually meeting him seems to make this feeling even more intense.

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Authors notes:

•Don’t you guys worry, he might seem nice right now, but he’s just trying to seem friendly. His real personality will become more present as the story progresses.

•this chapter isn’t proofread either😭

•Scara remembers you, but you can’t remember him. This really sucks for Scara doesn’t it 💀

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Taglist:

@mcryv @auvioh @belletifeshyl @raideneiari @local-mr-frog @c0nn0rv8 @cherrybeomgyu

If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask! I’ll be happy to add you!

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So, it's the first fic I decided to translate :D

I'm doing it mostly just for my dear Xiao (szia!) so you must know there is no appropriate editing :D

Fandom: MXM, AB6IX

Pairing: Youngmin/Woojin(one sided), Donghyun/Youngmin, Woojin/Daehwee

Summary: "Because Yeonmin has a beautiful "Kim Donghyun" on his shoulders by Hangul, and only "Woojin-Woojin-Woojin" in his mind"

Yongmin's got it all fucked up.

Warning: soulmate AU, soolmates's name on skin, K-pop, ex member, rude words, not good text, maybe no plot, maybe bad explanation, no editing, translated in 5 am so no judge :D

Busan Tech. - means Busan College of Information Technology, since all characters are in Busan

Park Woojin has a beautiful smile, even with crooked teeth and malocclusion. He has a rough voice, a purely boyish character and a willingness to protect his loved ones, even though he is not even twenty. He is a small tanned sun with still childishly plump cheeks, and he is the stabbing pain of Youngmin's heart.

They have known each other since their parents met as new neighbors and became friends with families. Buddies - since baby Woojin sat down on his bed and called Youngmin's room cool, even though he was only five and didn't know a thing about hip-hop of the nineties. Best friends - since Yeongmin protected him from annoying classmates who were bothering him because of the name under his ribs.

Park Woojin is his first love, which Youngmin nurtured in himself, stubbornly ignoring the hangul on his shoulders and Woojin's dreams of the destined. Woojin became his unhealthy obsession and Yeonmin pursued him for ten years until a fucking fate destroyed everything.

- Hyung, I found him! I found Daehwee!

Everything was perfectly fine, until Woojin's dreams became enthusiastic real stories, when Lee Daehwee appeared on the horizon of their future.

Lee Daehwee.

The one whose name is burned under Woojin's ribs, Hangul on Woojin's sun kissed skin.

His fucking destined one. A long-awaited dream.

- I'm Lee Daehwee, Woojin's soulmate, nice to meet you. Please take care of me, hyung.

Youngmin would like to hate him. Try a little harder, make some efforts and separate this couple. It's not that difficult, Youngnmin just has to be more selfish. But he gasps, he can't find words when he sees how happy Woojin is, just holding Daehwee's hand. Love and adoring look in his eyes, trembling hands and this sweet awkwardness between them. Youngmin sees, how Daehwee is nervous, though he is as happy as he should be, Youngmin sees his fears and anxiety. He understands that Dehwee really wants to please him, as a close person of Woojin. How Dehwee tries to make Woojin happy, and it breaks Youngmin's heart.

Because, after all, he isn't crazy enough with his love to ignore how Woojin pronounces Daehwee's name.

Softly, adoring, with love in every sound and gasping a little. Right the way it happens to the most important people in your life.

And that's why he says:

- Please take care of Woojin.

Thus, Park Ujin, Yeonmin's first and only love, became the one who broke his heart into small pieces and kept destroying his life with his happiness: hugging, having fun and chatting incessantly about his Daehwee.

Yeonmin's life was like walking on broken glass and endlessly waiting for his happiness.

Until Kim Donghyun showed up, flashing with his smile and Yeonmin's name right around his neck.

- You are my destined one? My soulmate? - Yeonmin's heart does not dance, nor does his breathing stop. There is no stars in his eyes, no butterflies in his stomach and no will to please this young guy with pure smile and adoration in his eyes. He feels nothing but irritation and endless fatigue, and he doesn't even want to talk to Donghyun. He looks too enthusiastic, too joyful, and there is so much hope and self-confidence in his gaze that Yeonmin is physically ill.

Because Donghyun looks at him the way Woojin did to Daehwee.

- Sorry, man. Not interested. I already have someone.

Youngnmin is literally sick of all this soulmate shit. He snaps at Donghyun, he doesn't allow to come closer than a meter, and ignores him in every possible way. He washes his hands of it.

Because Yeonmin has a beautiful "Kim Donghyun" on his shoulders by Hangul, and only "Woojin-Woojin-Woojin" in his mind.

Yongmin's got it all fucked up.

- Hyung, we have decided that we will study in Seoul. Dehwee wants to go to that stupid singing school.

Youngming gasps.

- What about… what about Busan Tech*?

- Come on, Hyung. You said they would take me anywhere. And if not, I will go to work, with my bike I'm welcome in every delivery service.

And Park Woojin has "Lee Daehwee" under her ribs and fingers in Daehwee's hairs, lips on his skin, a life together and a promised nasty "happily ever after" in the plans. There are just just him, his beloved one and dreams about their future.

Park Woojin is doing insultingly well, and it's ruining Youngmin's life.

But it gives a good chance to Donghyun.

- Alright, hyung, just give up. Let him go.

Kim Donghyun is a headache that cannot be ignored, at least because of the eternal itching on the skin and an overwhelming sense of guilt.

- Don't you dare to order me what to do. What are you waiting for, huh? I already told you…

- You're not so selfish as to ruin his life. Right, hyung? You won't mourn your first love forever, I know. I will wait. I have enough patient for you.

Kim Donghyun is a soothing "it's okay" before the first shared kiss and a confident "I'll wait." He is the slanted cunning eyes and a serene smile, warm hands and a lot of touches, a firm shoulder and an inadequate desire to be around at any time. He looks at Yeonmin with a knowing look and never once condemns him for his choice. But he does not give up on his own.

(He doesn't give up on Yeongmin.)

- Whatever you want, - Lim Youngmin is too tired to fight against him, though there is no willing to mess up with this guy.

Kim Donghyun is the most stubborn and persistent person Youngmin has ever known. And 'cause of his personality, Yeonmin wants to prove him wrong, refute his every word and kick him out of his life. But he can't, because he stumbles, bumping into a loving look and finding himself in Donghyun's apartment far too often, where they soon find themselves without clothes.

(Surprisingly, when Donghyun hugs him from behind, burying his head in his neck, their names touch.

And Youngmin's skin stops itching.)

Yeonmin would like to go after Woojin, tear him away from this nasty boyfriend and give Woojin his heart. He wants to say, go on, it's already yours, broken as fuck, you can hardly glue it together. Youngmin could have spat on his maturity, turn on his selfishness and force Woojin to take responsibility. After all, how long have they known each other?.. The whole life?

But he won't do anything. Because he finds his heart in Donghyun's hands, carefully patching up his wounds. And then Youngmin realizes that Donghyun understands what it's like to have unrequited love better than anyone else. After all, he looks at him the same way Youngmin looked at Woojin.

Maybe that's why only he manages to erase the name "Park Woojin" from Youngmin's head little by little?

random bf!ateez texts pt. ii

a/n: couldn’t sleep so here we are ahaha (HELP)

HEAR ME OUT

first post ever and i shall give this honor to tighnari in his ancestors clothes