So I Never Forget This Masterpiece

so i never forget this masterpiece🖤🖤

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  ᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɢᴇɴᴄʏ 𝆬 𓏸

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  ᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ 𝆬 𓏸

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  ᴅᴇᴄᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɢᴇʟꜱ 𝆬 𓏸

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɢꜱ 𝆬 𓏸

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ 𝆬 𓏸

I don't know your timezones or when you celebrate but I am already in 2024, so Happy New Year ⭐⭐⭐

LITERALLY MISS THIS STORY SO MUCH IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST KUDOS TO @decembermoonskz ❤❤❤

⸻ BLACK ROSE · H; HYUNJIN ˎˊ˗

summary ▸ what’s it like to know your soulmate is someone you hate? no one talks about those soulmates who despise each other and wish they could trade. this is that story.

pairing ▸hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

genre ▸ figure skater!au, college!au enemies-to-lovers!au, soulmate!au; figure skater!hyunjin, figure skater!reader, angst, fluff

other characters ▸ bang chan, shin yuna, park sunghoon, lee chaeryeong, jung jaehyun, lee mark, lee felix, brief mentions of lee jeno, hwang yeji, shin ryujin, han jisung

words ▸ 21.9k

WARNINGS ▸  explicit language, food, mentions of making out and sex but no smut written, alcohol consumption, minor alcohol abuse (mc gets pretty drunk at one point), injuries, brief mentions of blood, mc slaps hyunjin once, hyunjin can be a bit of a jerk I’m sorry hhhhh, there may be some inaccuracies with the figure skating terms and competitions

song rec ▸ cry for me - camilla cabello

a/n ▸ so after so long I finally finished this beauty~ it’s been in my drafts for a while now and it’s done! thanks to everyone who waited and for the ppl who asked to be tagged!! 😭😭 I hope you enjoy this and do let me know what you think of it by sending me an ask!! ✨💜 without further ado enjoy!

teaser | feedback

one.

You had to be the unluckiest person on this planet. 

You were the only girl in a family of loud guys; don’t get it twisted you loved your dad and your brother Felix, even your cousin Jeno, but they were so loud and boisterous all the time that it constantly made your social battery drain in an instant. You wish you weren’t the only mellow person, and you were just hoping the three loud men would maybe quiet down just a little when they all come together to watch sports and movies. 

Your part-time job at the college café wasn’t too bad, the pay was good for what it was, but your boss was so unhelpful and you’re convinced that they got their position—and kept it—through nepotism or something similar. It’s usually you helping new interns, or you locking up the store cause your boss went out drinking and never came back like they said they would. It was exhausting especially when you could use that time when your shift ends on the ice instead of dealing with rude customers or checking everything is in place before closing. That wasn’t your job, but in the end your boss praised you and even gave you more off days in return which was the only benefit of dealing with them.

More days for practice you suppose, which actually brought you to the reason you feel you’re so unlucky. 

You have an annoying rivalry with a fellow skater, his name is Hwang Hyunjin.

He was so snarky, constantly spewing small comments that had you pulling your hair out; he was arrogant, acting like he’s the best skater to ever walk into a rink, and no one could ever hope of reaching his level. True, he was considered a skating prodigy, doing jumps and spins and routines at age nine that were never considered possible at such a young age. Most of the coaches he’s been with, have constantly praised his expertise and skill, including your coach, but that didn’t give him a reason to act like he was so much better than you! 

Oh, and the worst part of it all? 

He was your soulmate.

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ahhh, this was so soft and so cute!! it kinda sucks you into this realistic-but-dream-like mood or maybe i've just been too out of it lately, but either way, it was so well-written, expressed emotions on a relatable level, and gave us some rare soft minho, so i'm all for it! kudos to @tasteleeknow fr fr, making the best fics as always!

ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

just saving this for later because gosh your fics and drabbles always slay

note. if you don't see some of my works on here then it's probably because they're really old and I hate them <3 you can search for em tho, they're still on my page but just not on my mlist.

🍰-smut // 🍡- fluff // 🥀 ˚｡ - angst // 🍙 - crack // 🌷- thirsts/brainrots

Multiple character fics . . .

Seething envy [dazai, chuuya, kunikida, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai x fem reader] 🍰

Ass tits or thighs? [poe, ango, lovecraft, akutagawa x fem reader] 🍰

What a tease! [dazai, chuuya, fyodor x fem reader] 🍰

Oh, darling! [dazai, chuuya, kunikida, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai x fem reader] 🍡

Baby makin' [dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, fukuzawa, oda x fem reader] 🍰

Prettiest when you cry [dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, fyodor, nikolai x fem reader] 🍰

Drunk-dazed [dazai, chuuya, atsushi, ranpo, sigma, tetchou x fem reader] 🍰

bsd men with a tall reader [dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x fem reader] 🍡🍰

bsd men with a short reader [dazai & chuuya x fem reader] 🍡🍰

bsd men x reader with thick thighs [dazai, chuuya, fyodor & nikolai x fem reader] 🍡🍰

bad timing? [dazai, chuuya, fukuzawa & fyodor x fem!reader] 🍰

using the safeword [dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai & jouno x fem!reader] 🍰 🥀 🍡

my pride and joy, my everything [dad!dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai & oda X fem!reader] 🍡

embarrassing moments during sex [dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa, tetchou x fem!reader] 🍰🍡🍙

fait avec amour [dazai, chuuya & fyodor x gn reader] 🍡

who'd be the best at dirty talking 🍰🌷

eat it like you mean it [dazai, chuuya, jouno & ranpo x fem!reader] 🍰

"what'cha readin'?" [dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x fem reader] 🍰

Single character fics. . .

dazai ꔛ܀⊹

"wrap your legs around my waist" 🍰

soft sex with dazai 🍰🍡

fyozai 3some 🍰

dazai worshipping your pussy 🍰

skk 3some 🍰

fucking you in a club bathroom 🍰🌷

his hands 🍰🌷

gettin' messy 🍰

dazai with a choking kink 🍰

when the tables are turned 🍰

hair pulling 🍰🌷

balcony 🍰🌷

shibari 🍰🌷

sleepover 🍰🌷

jealousy 🍰🌷

dream 🍰

"too much for ya?" 🍰

chuuya ꔛ܀⊹

"open your legs for me, baby.." 🍰

brat tamer!chuuya 🍰

morning sweetness 🍰🍡

sugar daddy!chuuya 🍰

skk 3some 🍰

fucking the insecurities away 🥀 🍰

calling him bro 🍡 🍙🌷

pussydrunk!chuuya 🍰🌷

soft!chuuya 🍰🌷

goth 🍰🌷

good bitch 🍰🌷

knotting 🍰🌷

19 + 21 🍰🌷

"he's the best big brother ever !"

his first bj 🍰🌷

first time 🍰🌷🍡

'riding' on his bike 🍰🌷

fyodor ꔛ܀⊹

purity 🍡🍰

fyozai 3some 🍰 fyodor x bimbo!reader 🍰🌷

sugar daddy!fyodor 🍰

tying his hair up before going down on you 🍰🌷

taking pics of u 🍰🌷

obsessing over your thighs 🍰🌷

girl dad!fedya 🍡🌷

sub!fedya 🍰🌷

making you read something while fingering you 🍰🌷

brat tamer!fedya 🍰 🌷

fucking his cum back into you 🍰 🌷

fyodor x chubby reader 🍰 🍡

nikolai ꔛ܀⊹

special trick 🍰

biting his thighs 🍰

making you squirt 🍰

sigma ꔛ܀⊹

biting his thighs 🍰

pussydrunk!sigma 🍰🌷

bending you over his desk 🍰🌷

bro, when i tell you that i love this fic, i meant it with my whole heart

Demon! Felix x Reader

Yandere! Demon! Lee Felix x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Summary: You come from a family of demon hunters, born to carry out your parent’s legacy. When a simple mission escalates rapidly, how will you be able to this demon?

Warning(s): Obsessive Themes, Violence, Gore, Death, Emotional Trauma, Profanity, etc

Word Count: 16.3k

Previously: You saw Felix standing over a body, head hung low, and gun in hand. He dropped the weapon before turning to face you. His eyes were blazing and smog was spilling down his shoulders and onto the ground. He didn’t seem to be hurt at all though, you couldn’t say the same for the other one— Minho. It was Minho.

You were frozen, the knife you were holding dropping due to your shock. “F-Felix? What? Why?” This couldn’t be. You were paralyzed, your brain unable to wrap around the scene. Had Felix really just killed Minho? Why? Why now? You just stared at him, fear in your eyes with tears threatening to spill. “He’s finally gone,” a crude smile cracked itself across Felix’s face, his pupils enlarging upon seeing you. He faced his chest toward you, blood staining the whole front side of his body all the way down to his shoes. “Aren’t you glad? Now he can’t interrupt us anymore.”

You were shaking. “B-but he-” you sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep your composure and voice stable. “He was leaving, you-” you swallowed. “You didn’t have to kill him, Felix.” You let out a sob, stumbling closer to Minho’s corpse, shaking your head. “Why did you have to do this?” Tears were running down your cheeks. You couldn’t handle looking at Felix covered in Minho’s blood.

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