#I don’t even know what I feel completely

[greengoblinswifey]

Super Eater—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas loves eating your pussy, anywhere and anytime. based on this request.

warnings— oral(f receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, pussy worshiping.

a/n—the title is actually sending me LMFAOAOA. working on the requests slowly but surely <3

Nicholas had a devotion to your pleasure that was almost relentless. Every so often, he’d give you this look—a mix of awe and pure need, and you’d know exactly what he wanted, to eat you out. It didn’t matter where you were; he was completely undeterred by anything. He did not care. All he cared about was his tongue in your pussy.

One night, the two of you were driving back from a date, winding down a quiet road surrounded by trees. Without warning, Nicholas pulled over, his face determined and eyes gleaming. “Nick, what are you doing?” you asked, your laughter mingling with excitement.

He gave a sheepish grin before his voice dropped to a murmur, filled with that familiar intensity. “You know I can’t wait, I need to taste you now.” The night proceeded with your legs in the air in the backseat of his car, and him not caring about the slight uncomfortable position he was in as his tongue sucked on your clit.

Then there was that afternoon while out shopping. The two of you had barely stepped into a dressing room when Nicholas gave you a look that you recognized all too well. “We’re in public,” you whispered, but he only shook his head with a playful smile.

“No one will hear,” he reassured, already leaning in. “I just need to show you how much I love eating your pussy.”

At a family gathering, Nicholas found a chance to slip away with you upstairs, where he gently pulled you into an empty bathroom. You let out an incredulous laugh, whispering, “This is not the place.” But he just gazed at you, completely unbothered, his cheeks flushed with his usual sweetness yet edged with that fierce determination.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, his voice reverent. “I need to feel you cum on my tongue.”

As usual, you gave in to his need and ended up with your own panties in your mouth as Nicholas lapped at your juices. Your taste was better than anything his family had cooked that evening.

Another time, the two of you were at Cooper Koch’s rooftop party. The music thumped in the background, people mingling just outside the stairwell where you both slipped away. He had that look again, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you close. “Here? Seriously?”

With a soft, unbothered grin, he whispered, “I just need a few minutes to eat you out baby, you drive me insane.”

After each of these spontaneous moments, you couldn’t help but ask him. “Nick, I don’t get it. You love doing this more than anything. Why?”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks, before looking at you with complete sincerity. “I don’t know if I can put it all into words. It’s fucking everything about you,” he said, voice reverent, “the way you smell, the way you taste, I love watching you lose yourself, how you get all squirmish.” His voice softened even more, gaze affectionate yet intense. “I just want to make love to you like this. Make love to your pussy, show you how much I fucking love it. It’s about you and making you feel good, that’s all I fucking need.

His words though so dirty, left you feeling adored, with no doubt of just how deeply he cared about your pleasure. He absolutely worshiped you, especially your pussy. He always believed women when they would talk about the power of the pussy due to how much power yours had over him. It was like it was tethered to him, like it called out to him. Like it craved his skillful tongue the way he craved to taste and savor it too.

One night, a particular premiere you attended was packed, the energy high, and the atmosphere electric. You and Nicholas had just snuck into the bathroom for a quick breather when he turned to you, eyes filled with a familiar look of lust.

“Nicholas, no,” you whispered, laughing softly as he stepped closer, his hands wrapping around your waist. “We can’t, not here.”

“I need to,” he murmured, almost pleading, voice husky and low as he licked his lips. “Please, I can’t wait. I know you’re aching to have my mouth on that clit.” His lips ghosted along your jaw, and before you could say no again, you felt yourself giving in.

The way he touched you was always more than gentle—it was worshipful, his mouth leaving you breathless and gripping onto him for support as he’d make you feel like you were the only person in the world. His skillful movements had a way of knowing exactly what you needed, drawing out every little sound until you couldn’t think straight.

When you finally left the bathroom, both of you were trying not to laugh, cheeks flushed and pulses racing. You caught a knowing smile from Cooper waiting outside who must have heard, and Nicholas just pulled you close, grinning as you both walked away, hands intertwined.

“That was risky,” you said, breathless and still tingling.

He just smiled, leaning close to whisper, “Worth it. That pretty fucking pussy is worth every second of it.”

He loved when you were in the comfort of your own home, how he could bend you over anywhere, and anytime—not that he couldn’t and didn’t do the same thing when you were out. It’s just that being at home made him able to savor you even more. There was no one to interrupt, no reason to look over his shoulder, no reason to make it quick though still savoring your taste but faster as to not raise suspicion.

If you were in the kitchen making something in those tiny little booty shorts, your coils free and just one of his t shirts draped over you, he’d hike it up, pulling down your little shorts and burying his face in your plump ass, his tongue darting to lick your pussy from the back. You’d be standing up convulsing, your hand gripping the counter as he knelt down behind you, absolutely ravishing you like a man possessed.

He would not stop until your legs turned to jelly and you’d fall to your knees, but he was relentless.

On this particular night, something feral awakened inside him. He was always feral but there was something different. Maybe it had to do with you being out of the country with your girls for the week and not having any physical contact. Whatever it was, it had Nicholas worked up the moment you left and the moment you called him to pick you up from the airport.

He hugged you tightly, placing your bags in the trunk and you immediately noticed that familiar glint in his eye. You sighed internally, knowing this would probably lead to a session on the side of the road but you were shocked when he just drove straight home. Though, his hand remained on your thigh the entire drive, moving to your clothed pussy and rubbing periodically.

“Fucking hell you tortured me,” he began, “one whole fucking week without your pussy in my mouth.”

You rolled your eyes, staring out the window as you pulled into the driveway, not knowing just how serious and feral he was.

You barely finished your long, relaxing bath when Nicholas appeared, sweeping you into his arms before you could even catch your breath. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy, his hands trailing over your still damp skin as he pulled you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “I missed your taste, your scent, the way you’d writhe under my touch, scream my name, fucking the everything. I need that pussy, now.”

His intensity left you breathless, and before you knew it, he was leading you toward the bed. “Sit on face,”he whispered, eyes dark with anticipation. “Let me show you just how much I worship this pussy.”

You felt a shiver run through you as you settled above him, and he looked up at you with a grin, his hands holding you close as he murmured, “Perfect.” His movements were filled with a fierce, passionate need, each touch and kiss a reminder of how much he’d missed you, his hands steadying you while he worshiped every inch.

The feeling was like ecstasy, you were high in the clouds from the way he lapped at your juices, his tongue flat against your pussy then curling and flicking exactly where you needed it.

His little moans of content had you shivering and holding on to the bed frame for support.

You gasped, overwhelmed by his intensity, and he looked up, grinning as he said, “Don’t hold back, I want it all.”

You couldn’t hold back if you wanted to, his tongue was practically penetrating your hole as he shoved it inside, sucking and licking everything that came out of you.

“I love this pussy, you’re amazing, everything about you,” he groaned.

Your cries grew louder and more desperate, each time you felt like you were on the edge, he’d slow down his movements.

“This pussy is heaven, I’d die if I couldn’t have my mouth on it.”

“God, mm- this fucking pussy has me in a chokehold.”

“So tight, you’re just clenching around my tongue.”

“You’re so perfect, this pussy is perfect in every single way.”

“I could have you on top of me for the rest of eternity.”

“Grind on my face, rub your pussy all over my face, give it to me baby.”

His words had you sobbing in pleasure, and he kept you on edge so you could get even more sloppy and needy for him. Your pussy practically soaked his mouth and was dripping down his chin.

“Please Nick, I really need to cum,” you pleaded.

“Just a bit more baby, I need to have you soak me a little bit more.”

Nicholas had you on the edge for what felt like forever, teasing and taking his time, his mouth moving over your pussy with a focus that made every nerve in your body come alive. He looked up at you now and then, that glint in his eye as he paused just when you were about to fall over the edge, whispering praises and reassurances.

“Fuck, I’d do anything for you, you have me under your spell,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, sending another shiver through you. “So perfect for me, every single part of you.”

Every time you felt yourself getting closer, his pace would change, drawing you back just enough to keep you in a state of dizzy anticipation. The way he looked at you, like you were all he ever wanted, made you melt as he made love to your pussy and worshiped you.

Finally, when he decided you’d had enough, he held you steady and whispered, “Let go for me baby, I want you to squirt all over my face, I’ve got you.”

At his words, the dam inside you finally broke, and the release was overwhelming. You trembled beneath his touch, feeling completely lost in the intensity of it as he held you, anchoring you through every moment. You soaked him, your orgasm spraying from you as his face and chest was drenched in your juices. His grin, proud and gentle, was the last thing you saw as he lifted you from on top of him lay you down and kissed you softly, murmuring, “Perfect. My perfect girl.”

[heesimp]

omg yes please write heehoon using that toy (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

part two of heehoon jerking off together…wow okay i learned that i reallyyy like writing this kind of stuff

warnings: heehoon jerk off together again, mxm (kinda), use of a sex toy, sunghoon catches heeseung watching porn and joins, double penetration of the toy, heehoon fantasized about reader again, mentions of sunghoon masturbating, subtly voyeurism, subtle praise.

-

It’s not a surprise that Heeseung and Sunghoon find themselves in this predicament again.

You just had to wear a dress that made your breasts spill out of the cups and while they don’t understand why you told them you needed your bra size remeasured because it was too small to the point where your tits didn’t fit in them anymore, the image of you without your clothes on was enough to make the drive silent on their way home.

But that was last night. It’s Saturday evening and the unusual silence of the apartment makes Sunghoon uneasy. He’s been cooped up in his room for the entire day, too worked up over a wet dream and thinking about you naked in just that little bra you described in such detail. He’s touched himself twice earlier today and willed himself not to make it a third if he isn’t getting any action. The tissues from cleaning up his cum sit in his trash bin as if to mock him so he goes for a drive to get his mind out of the gutter.

When he comes home, though, Heeseung’s door is cracked slightly ajar and Sunghoon can hear the clear sound of porn coming from inside of his room. The younger man laughs to himself and peeks inside to see Heeseung’s eyes closed with his fist wrapped around his cock. Sunghoon retreats into his room to grab his favorite toy—a doll complete with a torso, ass and pussy—before returning to Heeseung’s room.

“Can’t help it, can you?”

Sunghoon’s voice startles Heeseung and his hand momentarily freezes around himself. He’s half naked, bottom completely bare while his chest is covered by a black t-shirt. Sunghoon opens the door wider and folds his arms while resting his shoulder on Heeseung’s doorframe and chuckles to himself.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I know you’re thinking about Y/N,” Sunghoon tells him. He sees the way Heeseung’s cock twitches at the mere mention of your name. The video Heeseung plays on his laptop echoes and women moaning while being obliterated on screen makes Sunghoon half-hard. “You can’t stop jerking yourself off to her too, huh?”

Heeseung relents and averts his gaze back to the video and resumes pumping himself. Sunghoon watches the way his friend’s hand shifts up and down the harder the girls in the video get fucked and walks into his room to peek at the screen.

“Creampie compilation?” Sunghoon asks to himself more than to Heeseung, palming his cock over his pants with his free hand. “That shit’s hot.”

“I want to cum in her so bad,” Heeseung whines, squeezing himself as Sunghoon sits on the bed next to him. Heeseung watches him push the toy on his clothed cock and as he grinds against the silicone. “I need her pussy.”

“I want to fuck her so hard she feels me for days.” Sunghoon moans when he sees cum dripping from the woman in front of him. He squeezes the toy’s ass and bucks his hips. Heeseung moans too.

“Are you gonna use that thing?”

Sunghoon quirks his eyebrow. “Maybe. Why? Do you want to use it?”

“Wanna watch you use it first.”

“Didn’t know you were into that.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Man, let me pretend it’s Y/N. I want to watch you fuck her.” Sunghoon unbuckles his belt and laughs, pulling himself out of his pants and boxers until they’re pooled around his ankles. His cock is hard and he spits on his hand before touching himself to the video before him.

“Got any lube?” Heeseung hands him a bottle without taking his eyes off of the screen and grunts as he watches yet another creampie clip. Meanwhile, Sunghoon squirts some of the lube onto his cock and onto the folds of his toy, using one hand to pump himself and the other to rub it all over the silicone. Heeseung looks at Sunghoon’s hand when he hears the wet squelching.

“I’d stick my fingers in her like this.” Sunghoon pushes his index and middle fingers inside, coating them with the lube while pretending it’s your arousal that touches him while Heeseung keeps stroking his dick. “I wanna see her pussy open up for me.”

“Fuck. That’s so good.”

“I’d slap her little cunt too.” Sunghoon pulls himself back and smacks the tips of his fingers against it until the sound becomes louder than the moans from the screen. “Make her all bruised and sensitive.”

“Shit, yeah.” Heeseung bites his lip. “Put your cock inside. I wanna see her ride you.”

“Like this?” Sunghoon teased, positioning the toy until the folds envelop only his tip. Both hands secure around the waist as he keeps it hovering above him.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.” Sunghoon obliges, sinking the toy right into his hardened dick. He moan and looks up at Heeseung’s ceiling as his eyes squeeze shut.

“She feels so good,” Sunghoon moans breathlessly. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had.”

Heeseung watches his friend lift the toy up and down his cock and notes the way Sunghoon’s balls bounce too. He squeezes his cock harder. “You think she’d let you cream her? For real?”

“She better.” His balls slap against the toy. “I wanna see that pussy all white and sticky. I’d fuck it back into her if she’d let me.”

“Fuck, you’re really good at this.”

“At what?”

Heeseung laughs. “Talking.”

Sunghoon bounces his legs until his thrusts are meeting the movement of his hands. “You like watching me get off?”

“Only if we’re talking about Y/N.” Heeseung rolls his eyes while Sunghoon laughs. His friend gets too inside of his own head.

“I want to watch you fuck her too, you know. I’d kill to feel her mouth around me while you’re inside her.” Sunghoon laughs when Heeseung emits a deep, long groan. “I know you’re into that. Two big dicks abusing her holes like we do to this toy.”

Memories of the first time they jerked off together come back to Heeseung. He thinks of himself and Sunghoon in the living room when he brought out this toy for the first time and remembers the feeling of his cock rubbing against his friend’s as the toy stretched around them. It took only a little bit of convincing. Heeseung can’t deny that he really loved the feeling of Sunghoon’s hardness against his own arousal. It felt otherworldly, almost. That makes his hand move up and down even faster.

“Put her on the bed and fuck her,” Heeseung says in a haste. He gestures to Sunghoon with his head and the sheer desperation in Heeseung’s voice makes Sunghoon click his tongue, but he doesn’t disobey.

He watches Sunghoon pull the toy off of him and sees his cock bounces as his balls glisten from the precum too. Sunghoon turns around, still with his pants and boxers around his ankles, and pushes the toy onto the mattress with its pussy presented to him. Heeseung grunts as his friend smears his tip over the wet folds and pretends you’re looking at him with wide eyes as you grope yourself. That makes Heeseung grip his balls and squeeze them as if your hand could reach out to touch him too.

Sunghoon sinks in slowly and his deep moan is louder than the video on Heeseung’s computer. He doesn’t hold back either, putting both hands on the mattress below while his hips slang to push his dick in and out of the toy. Heeseung’s mouth hangs ajar as he watches his friend fuck the toy pussy and hears the hollow sound of the silicone as it gets pounced into, wishing it was your pussy that talks back.

“I think you like watching me fuck people,” Sunghoon says with an edge to his voice. He looks and Heeseung and moans when he realizes his friend’s hand hasn’t decreased in speed. “Imagine if we both fucked her pussy.”

“I’m so close.” Heeseung squeezes his balls as he twists his wrist up and down his dick.

“Fuuuck. Her little pussy’s gonna make me cum too.”

“I want to hear her beg for our cum.” Heeseung grunts and widens his legs further.

Sunghoon feels himself drawing closer too. “Fuck, fuck. Find a video.”

“A video?”

“Someone begging for cum!” Sunghoon exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as sweat stains his forehead. Heeseung types with one hand and does his best to open his bookmarks without clicking on anything he doesn’t want to see. He’s got enough porn stashed for a rainy day and knows the exact video he needs to get off you.

“You’ll love this.” Heeseung turns the laptop towards Sunghoon, who pulls his cock out of the toy and walks closer to his friend. “It flows out of her.”

“Come here.”

Sunghoon’s command makes Heeseung push his cock towards his friend, who brings his own against him. Heeseung winces at the still-unfamiliar feeling of somebody’s dick pressing against his own but welcomes the warmth when he sees Sunghoon pushing the toy’s pussy over both of their tips. He pretends it’s you they’re fucking.

“Fuck me,” Heeseung moans when Sunghoon starts to thrust against him. “Her pussy’s sensational.”

Sunghoon grunts, eyes focusing on the video beside them. “Good girls like cum stuffed inside of them.”

“Give me your fucking cum!” the girl in the video begs. “I want a creampie. Can’t you see how much I want it?”

“I’ll give it to you,” says Sunghoon. Heeseung, lost in his ability to think and function properly, thrusts against Sunghoon too. “Oh shit, Hee. Keep going. Fuck her pussy too.”

“Need your cum in me now! Please, please, please give it to me.”

“Fuck. I’m cumming.” Heeseung feels his balls start to tighten and clenches his jaw as Sunghoon pushes against his cock with more force.

“Cum! Cum in me!”

“I’m cumming too.” One final thrust from Sunghoon makes Heeseung’s cock burst and the flow of his cum makes Sunghoon cream the toy too, both of them moaning your name as they reach their absolute peak.

They don’t stop thrusting, riding out their collective high as their mixed cum slathers their warm cocks and bubbles out of the toy. Sunghoon feels their combined loads seep down to his balls the more he slaps it against the toy.

The video ends and Heeseung folds the laptop shut as he pulses against Sunghoon, who holds the toy still above them as he finishes cumming. He only pulls it away after making sure both of them have released every last drop and watches as it flows out and onto Heeseung’s softening dick.

“Gets better every time,” Sunghoon whispers, bringing his fingers to rub the toy’s folds and stuff their cum back inside. “You good?”

“I want to try double penetration with Y/N even more now…Is it weird that I liked that? A lot?”

“Nah.” Sunghoon tosses Heeseung a tissue box. “Whatever helps you get off.”

***

please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed :) x

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[catboyieejeno]

gameboy :: p.js — two

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 14.963k

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

“Is that my cardigan?” 

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—” 

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—” 

“Jisung.” 

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?” 

“I-” 

“Were you?” You ask sternly. 

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips. 

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable: 

“Show me.” 

Jisung works his jaw to gather some spit to swallow, since his mouth has managed to run completely dry in record time. His breathing has picked up significantly too, at your words and the way they drip from your lips with silky lust, or venom—he can’t tell which yet, since he’s not entirely sure he heard you correctly in the first place. For all he knows, they may be one in the same, and that would make him quite the textbook masochist; to be so humiliated and simultaneously, so fucking flustered. 

The reddening tint on his face pales suddenly as he realizes that he has yet to respond and the seconds continue to pass. With a shaking voice, he chokes out a single word: “...What?” 

There is no beat, no single pause before you speak. Similarly, there’s no hesitation in your words that spill seamlessly from your smooth lips. “Show me how you get off using my cardigan,” you repeat loudly, clearly. 

There isn’t an ounce of playfulness in your voice, much less in your stature, upright and commanding. Your expression is unreadable as you stand in front of him expectantly, holding out your cardigan with its new (and not so new) decorative additions for him to grab ahold of. 

With a heavy gulp, Jisung lowers his head. “You already got me to admit it. You don’t have to embarrass me any more.” 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” You explain, taking a few cautious steps forward until you’re but a foot away from him where he sits on the edge of his bed, “If you’re feeling embarrassed, that’s not because of anything I’ve done.”

He gulps again. 

“I just wanna know what you did as you…” Your index finger finds the underside of his chin, tilting it up so that he’s forced to look at you, “...thought of me.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

For a brief moment, he can’t construct a response, only gawking at you speechlessly as he attempts to process whether or not you really mean the words that are coming out of your mouth and their twisted implications. Then, his length gives a twitch and he fully wishes the ground would swallow him whole because, how could he have so little shame? 

“Ji…” you start, and his attention is fixed on you once more. The heat in his cheeks returns as you brush your fingers through his hair, pushing all the strands back to allow you a clear view of his face. “It’s kinda pathetic, you know. Having me so close and still using my cardigan…”

His stomach churns, his dick leaks, and his hands grip the bed sheets as you use your index finger to push him back on his chest until he’s resting on his elbows against the mattress. 

“If only you would’ve let me know sooner…maybe I could’ve helped you.” 

“You can help me now,” the words are tumbling from his lips breathlessly, “please.” He isn’t above whimpering any more, or begging. You have him wrapped around your finger, you have for the last few months, and he’s pent up and desperate. There’s nothing he wants more than to have you sink down on his length at this very moment—and he can't believe how plausible that reality actually seems. Still, you have other plans. 

“Tell me what you thought about, baby.” 

He gulps, taking a leisurely glance over your body now that the situation allows, each and every thought his imagination previously concocted coming up to the tip of his tongue where it sits idly, unable to be uttered. He’s so embarrassed, so turned on, so conflicted. 

You give him an encouraging nod, casting your eyes down to his lap where his length strains against the fabric. 

“Can I?” 

Jisung nods eagerly, and you pop off the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper so slowly that the buzzing is the only sound either of you can hear for a second or two. The next sound that echoes around the small dorm room is a hiss from Jisung’s drooling lips, elicited when your hand brushes his hard on. He can tell your actions are nothing less than methodical when you reach for his hand. You place the black cardigan in his fist, then lay it over his lap. 

Then, you spin around, bringing his desk chair over and taking a seat expectantly. 

When he still doesn’t respond, horny and frozen in shock, you smirk. 

“Need me to walk you through it?” 

Oh, God. He could come undone just from that thought alone.

“Please.” He squeaks out. 

“Take off your pants, Ji.” You instruct, leaning forward to rake your nails along his thighs, “I want you to tease yourself as you tell me what you thought about.”

”Fuck, I—” he glances at your hands that rest just inches away from his length, “I wanted you—I want you so bad.”  

You scoff. “Not very obedient, are you?” 

“Sorry—“ he clears his throat, hoping that of all times, his voice doesn’t betray him now. Following your directions, Jisung hurriedly slides his joggers down so that they’re resting at his knees, before speaking up, “I thought about you, what you looked like. Thought about your body in some pretty little outfit like the one you’re in now.” 

“You thought about me wearing clothes?”

”I thought about you taking each piece off, one by one. Just for me,” he adds. 

Perhaps, it’s a reward for his compliance, or maybe it’s a punishment; regardless, you lean back, sliding the shirt he had lent you off so that you’re sitting before him in nothing but a lacy black piece. 

If he thought your breasts were spilling from your top at the party, it’s nothing compared to the way they sit in your bra, constrained by the lace and begging to be held in his greedy palms.

You hum for him to continue, and he has to remind himself he isn’t dreaming. Subconsciously, his hand has begun to squeeze his cock over his boxers and you don’t miss the way the action makes his lips part.

”I pictured you touching me, like it was your hand instead of mine.” As he mumbles this, he slides his left hand into his underwear and gives himself a generous pump, then another, a shuddering breath making his chest heave.

“Like this?” 

Jisung freezes as you reach in to chase his hand, grabbing a hold of his length for yourself. Instantly, he throws himself back onto the mattress, covering his face with his palms as he moans. 

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you scold him, “You have to look, otherwise you’re defeating the purpose.” 

“Feels so good,” 

“I know,” you coo, letting your thumb swipe along his slit. The prettiest sounds leave his lips in the form of whimpers and whines, and he forces his eyes open to watch how you pull him out from his boxers. 

“Can you tell me what I did next?”

”You—fuck,” Despite his best efforts, his voice cracks, “you used your mouth.” 

“My mouth, huh?” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Some more precum leaks, coating your pouty lips, and Jisung thinks he may have actually died and gone to heaven. 

It takes everything in him to keep his head up, especially when you wrap your mouth around him. Your nails dig crescent moons onto his bare thigh and Jisung croaks out a throaty groan as he feels himself poke the back of your throat. There’s a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth, and he brings his thumb forward to swipe it away. With the salty taste of him

on your tongue, you blink at him appreciatively, coming up for air with a gasp. 

His dick is so red and swollen that you can’t help the praise that leaves your lips. “So pretty,” 

“You should see my view.” 

His reciprocation only makes you more eager, and you kiss him again. Teasing him is creating a mess between your legs and the only relief is the way the friction feels when you roll your hips against his desk chair. 

You hum contentedly, tongue poking out to kitten lick his flushed head. He shudders and rolls his head back for the nth time, gripping his sheets. 

“Shit, you’re driving me crazy,” 

You bat your lashes at him, taking him into the warmth of your mouth again. You hollow your cheeks to suck on his head, eyes fixed on his and watching for a reaction—and boy, does he give you one. His jaw goes slack, brows dipping down to hover over his half-lidded, glossed over eyes. As his thighs tremble, he watches you intently, wary of your every move you make and anticipating your next one. The sensation of your wet tongue, and the inside of your cheek, and your tightening throat that swallows around him—it’s almost all too much, and it has him using absolutely all of his self control to keep from bucking up. He wants to enjoy this, to soak this in; he needs to.

But his balls already feel so heavy and tight, and when you moan around him, he feels the vibrations in the form of tingles at the end of his spine. He can barely get a warning out quick enough before he’s releasing a load down your throat.

“Oh, fuck—I’m coming—“ 

You lift your head off of him with a pop, but not without sticking your tongue out to catch the spurts of white cum that dribble and shoot from his spent cock. A string of strained purrs and whimpers fall from Jisung’s ‘o’ shaped lips as he sees this, right before his vision whites out and his nerve ends go numb. His arms fall limply at his sides as the waves of pleasure drag on and through him, till he’s emptied every last drop into your waiting mouth.

You can tell from the way he’s shaking that he’s starting to become sensitive, but your hands don’t stop stroking him, nor do they let up on their pace—not until he takes them into his own and grips them over his abdomen, chest red and heaving. 

His ears are ringing by the time he comes down, the only feeling being your lips that kiss at his thigh and the thumb that swipes along his knuckles. He blinks down at you in awe and mentally professes his love and devotion to you, courtesy of the insane head, though on second thought, he realizes it might just be a side effect of post-nut-stupidity. 

“You’re too fucking good at that.” He lets out breathlessly, wiping some sweat from his chest. 

“Thank you,” you laugh. The moment you retract your hand from his hold to swipe at the cum and drool that sticks to your chin, Jisung shoots up, cheeks reddening again at the mess he’s left on your face. 

“Shit, sorry. Here.” Somewhat awkwardly, he shimmies his joggers back on after tucking himself into his boxers with a wince, then runs to the other side of his room where he gets you a pack of wipes, some tissues, and a fun sized water bottle from his mini fridge. 

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you some instant noodles or—“

“I’m fine, Ji.” 

“Ji? What happened to Sung?”

You ponder for a moment, then give him a little smile as you wipe away the mess of fluids on your face. 

“Ji suits you more.” You decide, “I called you Sung before I knew you, like, really knew you. And now that I do, I think Ji is more fitting.” 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s gone red in your presence, but he can’t help it. Not after the way the night unraveled, and certainly not when your cheek presses into his shoulder. You’re still not wearing a shirt, and the night’s makeup has started melting off around your cheeks and lips, but for whatever reason, you’ve never looked better. He’s glancing down at you warmly, lost in thought as he tries to decide which feature of yours is his favorite. 

It’s a pointless battle, and a decision he gives up on quickly, because there’s no way he’d manage to decide on an answer. Your eyes that looked up at him from between his legs just moments ago are filled with the most extravagant mix of light and mischief, and every time they meet his, he thinks he could float away. Your lips are velvet, he can confirm since he’s felt them now, albeit not on his own. Nonetheless, they’re pillowy and soft and wonderous, and he can’t wait for the moment he gets to taste them. 

As he watches you rub your legs together, he’s confronted by a mix of emotions: Firstly, he feels relief, because this could only mean you were worked up, and more importantly, because of him. Then, he’s instantly grieving the fact that he hadn’t asked to return the favor, and now you were needy and helpless. But no matter, because he clears his throat, mustering up a bit of boldness from the alcohol that still swirls through his system. 

“Let me eat you out.” 

“What?” 

”Let me eat you out, please.” he tries again, and instantly grimaces at the poor attempt at rephrasing. 

This is why you’re bitchless, Jisung.

You don’t seem to mind, though, letting out a light laugh as you straighten up beside him. “You don’t have to,” you whisper shyly, but you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. 

“I want to!” He corrects quickly, and you flash him a sweet smile. 

“Not today,” You can practically see the way he deflates, so you quickly explain,“I’m on my period.” 

“Oh.” 

“But that just means you owe me next time, right?” His eyes instantly light up at your proposition, and you can practically see the way his pupils dilate.

Oh. 

“There’s gonna be a next time?” 

You feign offense, “You’re already going back on your offer?” 

“No!” he answers quicker than he means to, clearing his throat, “I mean, no. Definitely not. Like, really. I can’t wait. I mean I can wait, but—”

He can’t even process the moment your lips press against his because just as quickly, they’re no longer there. A peck, and then you’re mumbling “good” against his mouth and going in for seconds as his brain starts buzzing. 

He acknowledges that this gesture was to shut him up, but he doesn’t care. His mind is numbed by your taste and the way your tongue glides against his teeth. If this is how you intended on getting him to be quiet, he’d never stop running his mouth. It doesn’t help that he can taste himself; that thought on its own is almost enough to give him a semi. 

You pull away with a small smack between your lips and instantly, Jisung feels himself melt, leaning into your hand that comes up to caress his cheek and mess with the ends of his hair at the side of his head. 

“I should head out.” You sigh, and he thinks he’s never been so disappointed after hearing just four words. 

“It’s cold out.” He protests, trying not to sound too whiny.

“Am I supposed to stay here?” He knows it’s a rhetorical question, but he still has to bite back the urge to ask you to do just that. “You can just lend me a jacket. I mean, that would make us even, right?” 

When you pick up the end of your cardigan as a notion, Jisung grimaces, but decides that ultimately, if it wasn’t for this cardigan, he might’ve never ended up where he is now: with your hand in his hair and the taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue. 

“You want me to walk you home?”

“Please.” 

And so he does, with his jacket wrapped tightly around you. He drops you off in front of your door, with an endearing wave of his hand and the plan to see you again after class on Monday set in motion. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“This is convenient.” 

“What is?” he perks up, watching as you sit criss-crossed on his bed, a stack of astronomy books piled up on your lap. You don’t look up, but gesture around.

“We can just study at yours,” you say as if it’s obvious, “we don’t have to worry about booking a lab.”

Jisung hums in agreement, gleeful at the idea that you intend to spend more and more time with him, and even more importantly, in his room.

Here, where he can only remember the way your mouth felt around him, and the countless times he’s pleasured himself to the thought of you. Here where you lay, on his bed, in a skirt that’s definitely too short for the harsh winter season, which could only mean you wore it for him. Here, where if he leans back, he can catch a glimpse of the cotton, light blue panties you’re wearing under the hem of polyester. 

After he returned from walking you home, Jisung collapsed into his bed, overjoyed and buzzing with energy, and so grateful there was no class the next day—Since he was not sure he’d be able to work himself out of bed with his mind still in a haze. By the time he managed to stop kicking his feet and replaying the night in his mind, the clock had striked six and the sun was beginning to peek over the hilltops. 

He can’t stop thinking about what the two of you had agreed on doing the next time you hung out, especially not when your pretty legs are bare and exposed. 

It’s a shame they’re not wrapped around his head. 

Nonetheless, he remains hesitant to make a move because: what if you had forgotten? Or perhaps, it was the alcohol talking that night and you really didn’t intend to do anything else with him—a totally plausible reality, as much as he hates to admit it.

Although he had gotten the go-ahead with you, and his dick is already growing at the thought of how your cunt would taste, his crippling fear of rejection still managed to choke him. A single, suggestive brush of his hand against you could make you uncomfortable, since the line between sexual and friendly intentions is so blurred, and that terrifies him. 

Very quickly, however, he realizes that’s not the case. 

“What do the books say about Castor and Pollux?”

“Well,” you start, “for starters, it’s more detailed than all the stuff we’ve found online.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Like, for example,” your leg unfolds from its position tucked away under you, and stretches out to rub along Jisung’s thigh. That’s how it starts. 

“In the book it goes into a lot more detail about the battle which inevitably leads to Castor’s death.” 

He can barely register what you’re saying, because with each word, your foot, adorned by your tantalizing knee-high socks, is rubbing shamelessly over his bulge. You watch out of the corner of your eye as his jaw goes slack, his gaze tracking every move you make over his lap. In fact, the only time he glances up at all, is when you lay back against his pillows and prop your legs apart, granting him a clear view of your panties that now showcase a wet mark. 

Jisung sucks in a breath, “Y/n, I think we should take a break–“ 

“Did you know that Pollux gave up half of his immortality so that Castor could live?” 

To put it bluntly, Jisung really couldn’t fucking care less.  

“Mhm?” He hums, except it’s practically a moan, because now your legs are fully spread, and your leg is restless, rubbing against him with no remorse. He’s fully hard, so hard that it’s beginning to hurt, but he feels stuck in place. 

“Fuck, we need to stop, I can’t focus if—“ 

“We should add some of this stuff to the presentation.” 

You’re playing some kind of game, and he’s happy to take the bait. Your eyes that hover over the top of the book flicker up to his for a split second, glossed over and sultry, revealing just how needy you actually are. 

And so, he breaks. 

Your leg is flung off his lap as he leans forward, settling his shoulders between your knees and attaching his lips to the plush of your thigh. Wet kisses make a path toward your core before he turns to give some attention to your other leg. It’s indescribable, how soft your skin is under his puckering mouth and how riveting the view of you is from this angle. 

You’ve moved the book a bit to the side, giving him full visibility so he can watch the way your eyes roll back for a split second when his big hands push your skirt out of the way, the material bunching up at the small of your waist.

Despite the fact that you’re clutching the pages of the book so tightly that your hands are turning white, you maintain your composure. “When Castor was revived, Zeus turned them into the constellation. Then–“ 

He tunes you out, squeezing your skin like a stress ball as a newfound determination manifests. You’re only acting unphased—the growing wet patch on your covered folds giving you away—and he’s dead set on breaking your facade. 

As bad as he wants to taste you, he won’t; not yet. Not until you’re writhing and shaking and desperate to be touched. 

He keeps working his kisses up to your center, then pulling away, alternating between using his teeth to nibble and tug at the more giving parts of your skin, and licking at the firm areas, like your hip bones and below your navel. 

Him nuzzling his nose into you tickles, especially since you can feel his breaths as they grow more uneven. Your view isn’t so bad either; you can make out the way his hips rut into the mattress and his hair flops as he moves to kiss across your skin. You only dare to steal a glance when you know he’s not looking; otherwise, you’re reading off the page in the steadiest voice you can muster, though your patience is slowly withering. 

When he finally gives any attention to your core, it’s over the panties, nose digging into your clit and breathing you in. His next breath is full of you, and all he can feel is your thighs as they slightly tighten around his head. 

The slight friction is ruinous, and it almost manages to make you stammer over your words, but Jisung interrupts you with a groan and misses the way you stifle a whine.

“Put that book down so I can make you come on my face, baby.” 

“Y-you’re distracting me. We’re supposed to be studying–“ you argue, but the book is already hanging loose in your hands, moments away from being discarded to meet the rest of the pile. Jisung catches this, and he doesn’t entertain your resistance any longer. You’re about to snap, he can feel it—he can practically taste it. 

And so, his tongue pokes out to lick a long stripe from your entrance, up to your clit. His pace is menacingly slow, he still hasn’t moved your panties aside, but somehow, the action rips a moan from your throat and causes your hips to buck.

Humming in satisfaction, he does it again, and the small whimper you let out the second time around almost makes him bust in his pants. 

“Ji..” 

With his arms hooked under your thighs and his palms situated over your abdomen, he hums in acknowledgement of his nickname and presses his face further into you. Your heels dig into his shoulders to tug him closer, but he tuts, flickering his narrowed eyes up to you. 

“Is something wrong?” His tone is teasing and cheeky, and you take your lip between your teeth. 

“No–I just,” you huff out, reddening cheeks filling with air, “please–“ 

“Please?” The single syllable is dragged out, encouraging you to elaborate, but all you can manage is another helpless moan.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, angel.”

“I–please, I need your mouth or–or your fingers. whichever,” you pant, “fuck, Jisung, I don’t care–just touch me—“

You don’t have time to finish your babbled plea before he hooks a finger on the material of your panties and pushes them aside. His tongue darts out to lick your clit, and he instantly, both you and Jisung moan in fervor. When he dips the muscle into your entrance, your essence coats his taste buds, and he decides then and there that he’s never tasted anything better. 

He’s also never seen anything better than the sight of you arching your back and digging your hips down to push your aching folds closer to his mouth. And it works, because he gets a mouthful of you and he begins to suck on your bud contentedly. 

Forget reading about the constellations, you were practically seeing them. 

They swirled over your eyelids when you closed them and swam around the room when you managed to peek them open for a glimpse of the boy laying between your legs. Any time his eyes flicker up to yours, the pleasure peaks, and you have to clasp a hand over your mouth to contain yourself. 

He hopes you can’t tell that he’s never done this before; by the looks of it, you have no idea. Your moans are growing louder by the second, with every swipe of his tongue against your slit, and your fingers have long forgotten the book you were clutching earlier. Now, they tug on Jisung’s hair, scratching at his scalp affectionately and pulling on the locks at the root anytime he does anything a tad too well. 

He laps you up again and again, replicating everything he had ever seen work in porn videos, until your toes are curling and you seem to be running out of air. Broken cries fall from your parted lips, with an occasional call of his name that has him rutting into the bed at a pace that almost provides as much friction as he desperately needs. 

“So pretty like this,” he manages to sputter into your core, and you instantly shiver, pressing him closer to you with your heels—if that’s even possible. 

You breathe out a series of phrases, all incomplete and taking after a whine more than anything else: “I’m gonna–“ and “Feels good–“ and “Keep going–“. 

No part of your brain is composed enough to form an actual sentence while Jisung’s tongue buries itself into your hole, but he seems to get the memo. He devours you like he’s famished, and when his hands reach up to grab ahold of your breasts, your efforts to contain your moans become obsolete. 

Your orgasm crashes into you as he returns his attention to your clit. His fingers busy themselves pinching one of your nipples and his deep hums vibrate at your core, and you find your vision going dark until there’s no choice left but to squeeze your eyes tight and reconcile with the ecstasy that has no means of stopping. For a second, your legs begin to shake, but as the feeling of coming from his swirling tongue becomes overwhelming, they fall limp, held up only by Jisung’s shoulders. 

And he doesn’t stop, until he’s completely sure that you’ve taken everything and have started to come down. His face is flushed red from the effort and a bit of sweat shines like gloss on his forehead, when you’re finally able to open your eyes and take him in. 

Secretly, he’s both surprised and proud of himself that he’s managed to make you come—for some reason, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he might be under this pressure—mostly put on him by him. If he couldn’t manage to give you an orgasm, he’s not sure how he would have faced you again. 

“Holy shit.” Your voice is thinned out and dreamy, and you don’t hesitate to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him up to you for a kiss. He moans into your mouth, slick covered lips disappearing between yours as you make out with him.  

“Damn,” You mumble as you break apart, “You eat out all your friends like that?” 

His eyes that were shut dreamily flutter open at once, and his brows pinch in slight confusion that he refuses to address for the moment.

 Technically, you aren’t wrong. 

Technically, the two of you are friends. 

But that title is the very last one he expected to and wanted to hear right about now. 

He can’t spare it another thought, because just quickly as the words leave your mouth, he’s lost again in your kiss. The feeling of your soft lips is so invigorating that it makes him salivate, and as he situates himself properly between your thighs. A few brushes of your wet cunt against his bulge and he’s releasing into his boxers with a groan, emptying himself as you continue to taste his spit and your release on his tongue, hips grinding down to stimulate him further. 

He comes hard, considering the compromising position he’s in, but just the idea of his member being so close to your pussy, especially after he’s tasted it, is enough to tip the scale. 

“Mmph..” 

“Feel good?” 

“So good,” he nods, rutting until every last drop has been expelled and his tip is too sensitive to touch. Then, he collapses into your arms that wrap around him, palms smoothing through his hair and down his spine. 

“Gimme a kiss,” You plead softly, and he looks up at you, peeking through the strands of hair that cover his eyes until your fingers move them away. He happily puckers his lips to place a gentle peck on yours. He’s almost smiling into it, until then and there, in the back of his mind, he thinks back to your choice of words. Do friends kiss like this? He supposes they do, in a talking stage of sorts. When the lines between friendship and more have been blurred, as they have here, and some sort of romance is blossoming, friends can kiss.

Typically, though, that blur is discussed and some boundary is set. Considering his dick has been in your mouth and he just gave you head until you and him both came from the effort, he figures some of those rules don’t necessarily apply here. 

He decides he’d rather not overthink. It got him nowhere when he wanted to come up to you before, and now that he has you, he’s sure it won’t help him here, either. 

So instead, he melts into your touch and relishes you until the moment you pull away and remind him of the half-written notes on his laptop that lie discarded since long ago. This gets him to regain focus for the rest of the night, and the two of you manage to get a decent amount of work done without ripping off each other’s clothes. He’s only slightly regretful of that, but the soft look of content on your face is enough. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The project had gone off without a hitch. It seemed that the trick to being productive when it came to you two, was releasing some pent up sexual tension; then, your buzzing neurons would reward your efforts and get to work—like the time you met up at the library, just three days later. 

Barely fifteen minutes of little-to-no productivity had passed before you found yourself bored and pressing your thighs together to give your slick-covered pussy any bit of relief. And Jisung, hyper aware of you as always, noticed. It took one lustful glance from him and you were crawling onto his lap, leaning into his side, and nibbling softly on the lobe of his ear until his dick was so hard it almost hurt. His hands flew to your hips, pinning you down until your cunt was rubbing against him. He had barely half a mind to keep you quiet, because the computer labs had no lock on the doors. With his hand clasped over your mouth, you rolled yourself against him until both of you came in your clothes, eyes rolling back and chests heaving with exasperation. That day, you wrote over three thousand words on the constellation—talk about post-nut-clarity. 

The powerpoint that came hand in hand with the essay was an idea that came to be at your apartment. He found out Karina was your roommate during his visit, and she had invited Heesung over so they could work on their assignment, too. It wasn’t long before Jisung noticed your dissipating patience, and the overwhelming relief on your face when the two of them announced they would go grab coffee as a pick me up. You pulled him into a kiss almost instantly, discarding your notes and forgetting about the due date that was closing in. 

All that mattered in that moment was being close enough to Jisung to breathe him in, and who was he to complain? He wanted nothing more than that sweet bliss—sharing your air, tasting your spit, squeezing your skin, making you come.

He was only denied the last of the four today, because as his tongue sunk into your hole and lapped you up, the door clicked and both of you rushed to straighten out your appearances. Karina and Heesung didn’t seem to suspect anything, only mildly reminded the two of you were in the room after finishing their own sweet interaction. 

Karina gasped when the coffee she sipped burned her lip, and Heesung popped off the plastic cap of the cup, blowing the steam away at once and scolding her for not being careful. The scolding was more endearing than anything, and Jisung found himself being jealous at the way Karina’s pupils practically became hearts, gawking at Heesung as he cooled down her drink before returning it and giving her a kiss on the forehead. It became clear as he watched them that you had never really looked at him that way, though he tried not to think too hard about it or the stinging in his heart would get worse. 

That’s when he suggests the powerpoint, which both of you finished that very same night. As a reward for his ingenious contributions, you dragged him out into the hallway to “say goodbye” later that evening and palmed him until he ruined his third pair of underpants this week. 

Professor Hwang seemed to be more than pleased with your finished product, because when she spontaneously announced the scores for the project would be curved, the two of you got the highest marks in the class—and this called for celebration. 

You had to attend your Literature class, but promised to come by his place later, which left Jisung just enough time to do the absolute bare minimum: clean his room, take a shower, make a playlist. 

After his shower, the boy spent the better part of an hour obsessing over which cologne to put on, or if any of the three he owned were even pleasant enough for you, at which point, Mark knocked on his door with complaints about how the bathroom on his side of the hall got flooded. 

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re an RA, no?”

“Yeah, but like, RA’s don’t fix toilets, you know?” Jisung shrugs.

“Dude–then, at least let me use your bathroom—”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll call—“ 

“Hey!” 

Your sweet voice calls out from the end of the hall, making both Jisung’s and Mark’s heads turn your way. You look ravishing today, a huge grin plastered on your face and the newest book you’d be analyzing in your Lit class clutched in your arm. Your hands hold two coffee cups, and you stride down the hall to meet the two boys where they stand.

Quickly, you place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek, direct and short but very bright “hello!” at Mark, then step inside his room with a decisive and upbeat pep on your step. Jisung knows why, of course, but as he turns back to Mark’s dumbfounded, and quite shocked expression, the smile on his lips instantly falls. 

“Was that–“ 

In less than a second, Jisung closes the door to his room and grabs the boy beside him, dragging him down the hall and out of earshot from you as he turns back to glance suspiciously at the wall you stand behind.

Jisung gulps, holding him still, “Mark–“ he knows what’s coming, but even then, he can’t mask the dread on his face.

“It was, wasn’t it? Jaehyun’s ex?” Mark’s eyes are so large, they look like they might roll out of his head.

“Yes, but–“

“Are you crazy?”

“Keep your voice down!” Jisung scolds, but Mark just lands a hit on his shoulder, disbelief written over his features. 

“What the hell are you doing with Jaehyun’s ex? You realize he’ll kill you if he finds out, right?”

With a nervous reluctance to his tone, Jisung begrudgingly sighs out, “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, cause you and I kiss all the time when we say hello.”

“Okay, we’re a little bit more than friends, but–why does it matter?”

“It matters because you don’t mess with your friend’s ex, dude..” At this, Jisung’s lips press tightly together.  He can’t think of anything to say or argue in an attempt to defend himself, so Mark continues, “If it was Chaewon? Man, I don’t think I could even look at you again.” 

“He won’t find out.”

“Dude, not the point!”

“I know, I know. I’m just–“ I’m in love with her “–nevermind. you don’t get it.” 

“No, I don’t.” He echoes, “Figure it out before Jaehyun puts the pieces together.”

“You don’t think there’s even a slight chance he’ll understand?”

“If i’m being honest with you man…” He pauses, and the hope in Jisung’s eyes dwindles as Mark casts his own eyes away and sighs. “No. I don’t.”

Mark gives him one last look before striding past him and to the bathroom. 

Meanwhile, Jisung drags his feet back to his room, only slightly mulling over Mark’s words and the likelihood of their truth—but the guilt dissipates the moment his hand twists the doorknob and his eyes land on you. You’re sitting on his bed, evidently anticipating his return because you aren’t on your phone, or with your nose in your book. 

You’re sitting up, hair tucked behind your ear, eyes wide and looking his way as he closes the door behind him and moves closer. 

Perhaps, it’s the overwhelming lust or like or even love that he feels every time he looks at you—or maybe it’s a bit of his frustration from the devastating inconvenience of your affiliation with Jaehyun, he’s not sure—but he finds himself taking long strides to close the space between you and him. 

“I got you coffee–“

You don’t manage to finish your sentence before his lips are on yours, swallowing down the surprised whimper you let out before reciprocating his affection. In less than a second, he’s crawled onto the bed with you, hands holding you wherever they can. 

Your thighs grow sticky almost instantly as he draws moan after moan from you, rushing to peel off every last article of clothing that obstructs him from feeling your warm skin. It’s not long before you become as ravenous as him, only breaking your kiss to pull your shirts over your heads or readjust so he can crawl between your legs as you lay back. 

When he finally has expended every last bit of oxygen in his lungs, he moves back to take you in, finding that, for the first time, you’re fully naked before him—and god, are you a sight for sore eyes. 

He can see your chest heaving, the action slightly bouncing your curved breasts that sit prettily, spread from laying on your back. Your nipples are eager and perked up, inviting his tongue to run over them, which he takes a mental note to do in just a second. Your smooth stomach, tightened in anticipation, leads down to your messy wet folds, and your thighs, soft under his big hands, tremble as you grow shy and unsure under his gaze. 

“Ji? W-what’s wrong?”

“Literally, and I mean this with every fiber in my being, baby—nothing is wrong. You are so,” he leans down to kiss you softly, completely unlike the kisses you shared earlier, “so,” he travels down your chest, “so beautiful.” 

“You think so?”

“Yes, baby. God,” he huffs, “I need you so fucking bad.”

“So have me then.”

His movements stutter for a moment, and he snaps his head up to look at you. “You mean?”

“Yes.” You nod, “Please.”

When your fingertips dip into his boxers, he nuzzles his face into your neck and sighs out dreamily, allowing you to pull his fully hardened length out. 

“I want you so bad, Ji… Need to feel you inside of me.”

Your words send shivers down his spine so intense that he practically shudders, and he knows for a fact you can feel his dick twitching incessantly your palm.

Jisung clears his throat, leaving back to look into your eyes. 

“Let me eat you out first, yeah?” 

“It’s fine, I just-“ 

“Please,” he basically whimpers, “I love tasting you so much,”

“Fuck.” 

Your legs spread expectantly for him, but he takes his time, stopping at your lips again as if he can never feel them enough. Then, he makes his way down, licking and nibbling, pausing to lap at your nipples as he so desperately wanted to do earlier. 

“Jisung, holy shit–“ 

“So pretty, so good for me always.” 

“Baby–“ you gasp out as his lips come off your tit with a pop, and in an effort to quiet yourself down a bit, you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and muffling your cries of pleasure. At this, he has to peel your moving hand off his cock at the risk of coming into it. 

He can feel how the layer of sweat coating bus skin, and he can feel the way it’s sticking to yours, slick and wet. 

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he purrs, lodging his shoulders under your thighs and settling down between your legs where he belongs. 

He dives right in, molding his mouth over you in a way that has you arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut. He can feel your cunt pulsing under his tongue, all wet and gushing with your arousal. It’s dizzying, your taste, your smell, you, all of it has his mind spinning and him melting further into you. 

You can hear the sounds of him devouring you, as well as the noises he’s muttering into you, indiscernible strings of praises that have you on the brink of undoing. 

The moment his tongue slips in you, you pull his fingers from your mouth, reaching your own towards his hair. “How are you so good at that? Please, Ji, I’m so close–“ 

“Please,,” he echoes desperately, “come for me.” 

That, and his finger slipping into you has you grinding down onto his tongue and hands, dissolving into your orgasm that he so willingly paints out for you, using every little tactic he’s noticed you like so far, like curving his finger to hit your sweet spot, or sucking on your clit until you’ve got tears prickling at your eyes. 

You come on his face, writing and shaking and gripping his locks for dear life as bliss bubbles through your nerves. You’re soaked and breathless by the time he lets up. 

“So good,” he reminds you, making his way back up to your lips so you can find out for yourself just how intoxicating you are. 

Your hands reach for his hips and tug him closer, and the two of you yelp into the kiss as his length brushes your still sensitive folds. Jisung can no longer think straight, especially with the way your glossy eyes blink up at him sweetly. The realization of what’s to come dawns on him at once. He doesn’t intend to tell you you’re his first, because that’s pathetic and embarrassing, but nonetheless, he can’t hide the nerves. 

“Are you sure you still want to… you know? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. We can do something else, yeah? I’ll just take care of myself really quick in the bathroom and we’ll–“ 

“Ji, baby.” he gawks at you. You smile and brush a few hairs back from his eyes, not even minding when your hand brushes against his slightly sweaty hairline. “Who’s the talkative one now?” His cheeks glow at your attempt to lighten the mood, and you kiss them generously.

“I’m so sure I want this,” you start, “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.” 

And that makes his heart beat so fast and swell up so much inside his chest, he thinks it may just burst from within his ribs and land right in your hands where it belongs. 

His head bobs in a soft nod, and he swallows down the spit in his drying mouth. Between your bodies, one of his hands spreads your legs a bit while the other guides him towards your slick. He rubs his head between you, lathering his dick up in your cum, eyes never leaving yours in fear of missing the way your jaw goes slack at the sensation.

“Okay,” he nods again, “Then I’m all yours.”

“Good.” You whisper back.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, yeah?”

Unlike some of his friends, Jisung has never been addicted to porn—addicted to masturbating? Maybe, but that was partly due to his addiction to you. For the first time ever, he realizes how useful a porn addiction might have been right about now, even if it did build unrealistic expectations. Simply because then, he’d know what to do in this situation. The expectation part doesn’t concern him, you’ve already surpassed all of his anyway; the only thing eating him up is whether or not he’ll be able to please you. 

For his own sake, he gulps down his nerves and focuses on the pretty girl lying before him, with watering eyes and drooling lips who’s shaking in anticipation each time his head teases her entrance. He’s twitching in his own hand, clumsily bumping into your clit, but you seem to like that, reaching for and squeezing his arms with every accidental brushing.

And finally, when he sinks into your sopping walls, it’s like a breath of fresh air. 

Your hands slither around his shoulders, willing him closer until the two of you are chest to chest, and his hips push in far enough to bottom out within you. 

“Oh, my god..” The words leave you in a whisper, cock stuffing you full and balls pressing against your ass. The stretch is notable, though not painful, and given that you already came once today, you can’t help the way you clench down on him, making him hiss. 

“You okay?”

“Yes.” you nod, leaning up for a kiss.

Slowly, he starts rocking his hips, reminding himself to slide almost all the way out of you before thrusting back in. That’s what he’s supposed to do, or so he thinks. Your moans start as little hiccups, soft and airy, but as his rhythm continues, they get louder and whinier, and so he matches their pace and enthusiasm, speeding up in tandem. 

After leaving a wet kiss on your neck, Jisung sits up and looks down at where the two of you meet, pushing your knees up until they’re together on your chest. Every time he glances up at you through his brows, you squeeze him instinctively, and the new position just amplifies the pleasure for both of you.

Each graze of his fingers on your face or boob or arm, the weight of his hands keeping your thighs still, it’s all so satisfying that you feel your inevitable orgasm well on its way. It only takes a few more seconds of him fucking your soft, warm walls, before his fingers find your clit and start rubbing it. Instantly, your head is thrown back and you’re calling out for him in pleasure. 

As you come again, Jisung has a moment to take you in. 

You’ve infiltrated all of his senses: he can see you, hazed and fucked out and staring back at him with an infatuated look—the same one he saw on Karina’s face when she looked at Heeseung, and the very one he’s been longing to see on you. He can smell sex in the air—taste you still on his tongue from when it was in you just moments ago. He can hear your loud moans and pleas, every syllable of his name as it slips from your lips. And finally, finally he can feel you, stretching out around him and sucking him in deeper still with every thrust. You’re gushing so much that your thighs and his are covered, and his sheets have grown darker in the spot below where you’re connected. 

“Ji, please–“ 

“Please what, baby? Just tell me and it’s yours.”

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.” 

He wouldn’t dream of it. 

Each drag of his cock through you solicits a new wave of pleasure, and you’re coming so hard that you’ve gotta grip his arms to keep from floating. Your nails dig into his skin and Jisung moans, pounding into you faster and keeping his fingers at work until he’s sure you’ve begun to come down. Only then does he slow with you, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. 

“Good?”

Through tear-brimmed eyes, you blink up at him, feeling drunk. “ So good.” 

He hums into your mouth when your tongue finds his, fingertips losing themselves in your hair. 

“Mm, lay down,” you start, slurring, though he catches every syllable you utter with ease, “I wanna ride you.”

His eyes snap open to find you giggling at his reaction, and he doesn’t realize his mouth is hanging wide until your gentle palm reaches up to hold his chin and close it. 

“Is that something you’d like?” your thumb tugs on his bottom lip, and he presses a kiss to it before answering quickly.

“God, yes.” 

You laugh again, giving him a kiss for his endearing reaction. When he doesn’t budge, still slightly in shock, you prop yourself up on your elbows, pushing him back and guiding him to lay down where you were just a second ago.

The moment your plush thighs settle on either side of his, his hands go limp by his sides. It takes your patient ones to grab ahold of them and place them on your body, one by your waist, the other holding your boob. You keep your hand over his and squeeze, encouraging him to the same, and he does, letting his fingers swipe over and play with your pretty buds. 

“You just dicked me down and suddenly, you’re nervous?” You hum, swirling your hips over his length. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being nervous around you.” 

“Baby…” You coo, wiping some of the sweat from his cheeks, “You think I don’t get nervous around you? Every time I know I’m gonna see you… You should see how long it takes me to pick what to wear.” 

“I mean, you look perfectly fine like this, too.” 

“I’m sure you think so.” 

Jisung starts to laugh, but it turns into a hiss as you sink yourself down on him. The feeling, he realizes rather quickly, is absolutely incomparable to anything he’s even felt or anything he might ever feel. He’s balls deep, completely hugged by your gummy, wet walls. Your skin pressing against his and your weight on his lap feels so, so right. 

“You feel amazing,” he whispers, and you ready yourself to move but he stills you, “God, hold on. Please, just—“ 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing—It’s just,” he pauses, looking anywhere but at your eyes. “I-If you move right now, I might...” 

“Oh.” The skin on your cheeks goes hot. Part of you wants to teasingly roll your hips anyway, but the furrow in his brow tells you he’s not bluffing and he really will blow his load if you so much as clench. So, you give him a few seconds, leaning down to kiss his chest until he bucks up into you as a go-ahead to start moving. 

“So good,” he repeats, and you moan back a similar phrase. Each time you take the entirety of his length, his tip kisses the smooth spot inside you and you can’t help but mewl into his neck, giving him back every babbled praise he manages to spew to you though his tightened voice. You start bouncing yourself on him, with your hands resting on his chest for balance, until you feel the pit in your stomach begin to turmoil again. 

”I’m really close,” he warns you. 

“Me too..” 

“Shit, I have to pull out or I’m gonna-“ 

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” You whisper, and his eyes widen, “I want you to come for me.” 

He can barely mold his mouth to form the beginning of an “Are you sure?” before your walls squeeze him and he’s spilling himself inside of you. He lets out a guttural groan as he does so, clutching your hands in his as you milk him for all that he’s worth. The sounds you’re making are absolutely delectable and the grip your pussy as on him makes his ears start ringing so bad, he’s convinced he might pass out. 

“Ji, I’m-“ his release triggers your third one of the night, just as you lose yourself in his arms and in the whimpers he’s releasing as he grows more sensitive. You can see his eyes through a sliver, finding them to be dazed and adoring and admiring all that is you.

So you grind against him until you’re both left sweaty and spent, holding on to each other until the pounding in your chests simmers down. 

You naturally collapse on top of him, face near his neck with his hand petting the back of your head. For a few minutes, the two of you stay like this: breathing in each other’s scent and basking in the aftermath of what happened. Both of you are sticky with sweat and cum and spit, but neither seem to mind for the time being. 

It’s only when your ringtone blasts through the room that either of you move to get up. With a heavy sigh, you pull yourself off of him and waddle over to your bag to find the disturbance. 

“It’s Karina.” You announce, and Jisung lays back down with his arm tucked behind his head, admiring your naked body pacing around his room before you swipe to answer and tuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, reaching for his shirt to slip it on. 

“Hey… Tonight? Oh, you mean like right now? Uh… Yeah, it should be fine.” You glance over at him to find him raising a brow, “Oh… Oh. Okay, I see. Yeah, no worries. Tell me about it after, yeah? Alright! Bye!” Your shorts are tugged on as you spin around to face him. 

“Um…” You start, and Jisung sits up instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, it’s just…” The corner of the mattress dips as you take a seat, “Heesung is over.” 

“Oh.” 

“And he and Karina are gonna…” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

He remembers the layout of your room, two beds in one open space. It’s a standard room, like Mark and Chenle’s or Jeno and Jaemin’s. The only reason he scored a solo dorm is because he’s an RA for the floor, a blessing at times like this, where he can confidently say: 

“You can stay the night here.” When you don’t answer, he clears his throat. “You know, since they’re gonna…” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course,” his hand reaches for yours, pulling you towards him. “We can watch a movie, or study…” 

“Or…” you tease, “we can do something else…” The moment you climb on his lap, it clicks for him—what you mean. And when your lips find themselves on his neck, a shudder goes down his spine. 

“Thank you, though.” You smile and he looks down at you and quirks a brow. 

“For what?” 

“For letting me stay over. You’re such a good friend.” 

It’s instant—his stomach dropping before the last syllable leaves your mouth. His hands are on your shoulders to push you away and his stomach is tied into a dozen knots as he blinks, repeating what you’ve just said over and over in his mind. For a moment, he thinks his lunch is starting to come back up, too, and he’s sure he’s gone drastically pale. 

You’re absolutely oblivious and confused as you meet his eyes. “What–” 

“You don’t mean that.” He insists.

“Ji–” 

“You can’t mean that. Right?” When you tilt your head, still lost, he purses his lips, and this time, his question comes out with much less assurance. “Right?” 

The disorganized sheets are shoved off of him in an instant, and he’s up and tugging his sweats back on, spinning around as to not look at you for a second. His heart, which he holds his hand over, starts beating faster. 

“Y/N. Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“I–You are a good friend. I do mean that. But–why– I’m so lost, Ji. What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

‘Was it something I said?’

He hates this. He hates everything about this. The look on your face, the nerves in your voice, the way your hand is shakily reaching for him—there’s nothing he wants more than to forget how that word feels each and every time you utter it. He wishes he could brush it off, and crawl back under the sheets with you and mess around until the sun rises the next day. 

But it stings, and it burns, and it fucking aches that you insist he’s nothing more than a friend, reminding him for the second time now that he can’t have you as his—and that’s the only way he intends to have you, for the sake of his poor heart that beats only for you. 

He didn’t hallucinate. You looked at him the same way Karina looked at Heeseung that night; he saw it, there was something there. 

He thinks back to what Mark said earlier. Friends don’t kiss—and they certainly don’t fuck the way you two just did. If he could just get you to admit that…

“Do you do that with all your “friends?”” 

“No, of course not!” You shake your head quickly, and he can see the offense flash across your features at his implication. Still, he insists.

“Then what are we?” 

He sees you physically deflate, but he retains his composure. “Ji…” 

“You’re telling me that after all that, and after everything we’ve done this semester–”

“Jisung–“ 

“–and after all the time we’ve known each other.. You don’t see me as anything more than a friend?”

“I…” That’s it. That’s the only word you manage to mutter, because your thoughts are tangled together and working against you to, for the first time since he’s known you, render you speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

A pricking sensation in his eyes commands him to turn around, because simply put: he refuses to cry in front of you. 

“I like you. A lot, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious.”

“I-I like you, too but—“ 

“But you still like Jaehyun?” Truthfully speaking, he doesn’t even know where that came from. But the words have already left him, and even though he can’t see your face, the fact that you’re hesitating tells him all he needs to know.

“It’s not like that,” you start after a pause, “It’s just—how do you even know about that?” 

“It doesn’t matter. I-“ He takes a shaky breath, “Fuck.”

“Jisung…” You mumble cautiously, quietly, too nervous to approach him any more. 

“I like you,” he repeats, “so, so bad.”

“I do, too.” You whisper. It’s no use, and you discover that quickly—the moment you see him tear his doubtful eyes away from you and towards the ground.

“Stay the night here. I’ll be down the hall.” 

He grabs a random shirt from his drawer, since you’re occupying his, and puts it on as he makes his way towards the door.

“If you need anything,” he adds quietly, “just message me.” 

He steps into the hall and shuts the door behind him as you call out his name, storming down the ugly carpet that looks uglier than usual today, until he’s reached Mark and Chenle’s.

He hesitates before knocking as he realizes the tears he’s been fighting to hold back really will start rolling any second. So he passes their door angrily and barges into the bathroom.

He’s careful not to step on the filthy water that covers most of the floor, verifying Mark’s claim that the bathroom had indeed flooded, and navigating the dry patches with his slides to get to the sink. He turns on the faucet and washes his hands, then cups them and brings a decent amount of water to splash some on his face. It washes away the stray tears that managed to escape, and he repeats the process over until his eyes are no longer bloodshot, but not without a few broken sobs escaping his parted lips. 

Whether it’s hurt, frustration, or both, he doesn’t know, but before he knows it, he’s fully crying over you, until his throat is dry along with his eyes. 

After a lazy once over in the mirror, no longer regarding his looks, he treads carefully back to the exit and toward his friends’ room. 

He can hear them through the wall as he gets closer, tapping his knuckles on the wood. They sound like they’re watching the play-offs. He’s not sure, but anyway, he’s never cared about basketball, and he can’t bring himself to care about much now. 

It takes him knocking one more time before one of them hears him, and the door opens. 

“Oh, it’s you. Hey did you call about the toilet—“ 

“You look like shit.” Chenle interjects. Jisung just rolls his eyes and walks past them. 

“Can I stay the night?” 

The two boys look at each other, then back at him. 

“Uh… Not that I don’t wanna have a slumber party but… Why?” 

“Y/N is staying in my room.” 

At the same time, both of their eyes bulge. 

“Oh.” Mark says, but Chenle quickly shakes his head. 

“You have a girl in your room? Like a real one? No way.” At this, no one cracks a smile, “Why do I know that name, though… Y/N… Y/N…” 

”I thought it was going well, though,” Mark inquires, “How did you get kicked out of your own room?”

”Y/N…. Y/N who…” 

“We fucked and I asked her what we were.” Jisung regretfully admits. He had no time to mull over how much detail he wanted to share, but confiding in his older friends sounded more helpful than not. 

At this, Mark doesn’t reply, but the way he purses his lips is more than enough for Jisung to let his head swing down and he catches it in his hands.

”Y/N… Wait.” Having reached an epiphany, Chenle shoots up from the couch, “Y/N as in Jaehyun and Y/N?” 

“I don’t get it…” Jisung sighs, muttering mostly to himself, “everything was fine.” 

“So what went wrong?” It takes him a second to ponder Mark’s question, but the answer sits at the tip of his tongue. The hesitation in actually speaking it out loud—a sliver of embarrassment that shows in the way he stutters. “She k-kept calling me a friend and well, I don’t know. I just… ran my mouth.”

“If she made it clear you guys were friends then why would you ask her if y’all are a thing?” Chenle wonders, raising a curious brow. Mark gives him a shove.

”Because,” he starts, “We’ve been hooking up almost the whole semester. And not just hooking up. Talking all night, flirting… meeting up between and after classes.” 

“Yeah, that’s not friendly.” Mark agrees. 

“She does like you.” Chenle says with some level of astonishment, earning another shove from Mark and a gesturing glare that alerts him of Jisung’s obvious dishevelment.

“Chenle’s right.” Mark says, in a more gentle way, “She wouldn’t do any of… that if she didn’t. Maybe,” he puts a hand on Jisung’s shoulder and the younger boy looks up through wet eyelashes, “she was just a little overwhelmed by your confession.”

“She called me a friend.” He shakes his head, “I just had sex for the first time and she called me a friend.”

Mark quickly interjects before Chenle considers saying something insensitive, “Okay. But you have to remember: her and Jaehyun dated for two and a half years—“ 

“That’s not what I wanna hear, man.”

“—And,” Mark continues, “they only broke up earlier this year. You and her are new, and she’s probably just getting used to that. Besides, you only confessed after you guys… hooked up—nothing was established before.”

“If you liked her, you should have asked her out first.” Chenle sighs..

“So this is all going wrong because I didn’t do things by the book?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Mark glares at Chenle who at this point, gives up, leaning back to watch his game in silence. “I think if you would��ve made your feelings clear before, she might have reciprocated. She assumed you two were still friends because… you technically are still friends. Maybe she didn’t want to assume and have you freak out or something.”

At this, Jisung nods slowly, processing Mark’s words. 

“What are you studying?” Chenle pokes the older boy.

“Engineering. Why? Also, we’ve lived together for two years and you don’t know my-“

“Drop out. Become a relationship counselor.” Chenle pats him on the back. Mark quickly shoves him off and turns to Jisung again who has shot out of his seat with a newfound confidence. 

“I’m gonna go and apologize.” He decides. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Chenle replies without looking up from the screen. Mark just sighs.

“Yeah. Let me know how it goes.” 

When Jisung knocks on the door to his room, he hears no answer. When he pushes the door open, he finds his room empty, with you and your things nowhere to be found. 

The first thing he feels is worry, because where did you go? Not back to yours, because Heesung was there. He knows you have other friends, but he doesn’t know if you’re close enough to any of them to stay the night at theirs, and it was almost 11PM at this point. 

He considers calling you, but if you didn’t answer, he would be shattered, more than he is already at the thought that you might have been hurt by what he said. So he settles into his bed that still smells like sex and you, and curls up on his side, legs restlessly shifting in a failed effort to get comfortable.

He spends the better part of an hour planning what to say to you tomorrow after class, or the next day, or whatever day you decide to give him a chance to explain himself and apologize for some of the things he said. Eventually, he drifts off, clutching to his chest the pillow where your head laid. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Absent.

You were absent. 

You have never been absent from astronomy before. Your seat besides his is empty, and you’re absent from class. 

All morning, Jisung went over his speech as he paced around his room. He changed his sheets after finding some cum stains on it as he recited his confession, his apology. He planned how he would explain his mistake and how he would relay his understanding for your confusion. 

He went over scenarios in his head on how to possibly get you back, because truthfully, that’s all he wanted. You were all that he wanted.

And now, you weren’t here. 

Karina and Heeseung were, but the two didn’t even look his way, and had sat near the front of the class—an act which worried him, because: had you told Karina what happened? Did you go back home upset and interrupt them? Were they mad at him now, too?

Inevitably, class went by slowly. Painfully slowly. Unable to focus, all that Jisung could think about was you, so when the bell rang and all the students left the lecture room except him, he didn’t notice. The only thing that caught his attention finally, was your name being called out in Professor Hwang’s sharp tone. 

“Huh?” He looks up from his laptop.

“I asked,” she starts, not too happy about having to repeat herself, “If you knew the reason for Ms. Y/n’s absence.”

“Oh.” He mumbles. As he looks around and notices the lack of classmates at his side, he starts packing his things. “No. Why do you think I would know?”

“Because, Mr. Park, the two of you are attached at the hip.”

“Well, I don’t.” He swings his bag over his shoulder and jogs down the stairs, “Maybe Karina does.”

As he’s about to pass her, Professor Hwang points her pen at his chest, stopping him. 

“When you run into her, let her know her absence will count against her unless she has an excused note. And,” she slides her glasses off, folding them and tucking one of the legs to the neckline of her shirt, “I hope the two of you make up.”

“I-“ He’s speechless, “H-how did you know?”

“Educated guess.” she states simply. 

Jisung nods once, and she lifts her pen to allow him to pass. He heads for the door, pushing it open and making his way to the quad so that he can go home. 

He’ll just message you. That’s what he decides. He’ll just ask you to meet up with you, he thinks, that shouldn’t be too hard. 

But the moment he hits the send button on a message he so carefully crafts for you and looks back up, he sees you from across the huge field of green. 

A smile almost breaks out on his face, because he sees your hair and the pretty outfit you’ve chosen today, layered to keep you warm with a scarf tucked under your chin. But he doesn’t quite get to smile, because you’re accompanied by the last person he’d like to see you with right now. 

You pause your conversation with Jaehyun to look down at your phone, presumably to check the message Jisung just sent you. Without replying, you quickly tuck it away into your pocket. 

Jisung watches as you and Jaehyun stop and sit at a bench on the quad, engrossed in what looks like a serious conversation. 

Now: he doesn’t want to be dramatic. It’ll get him nowhere and he knows that. That being said, he still pulls your contact up again, and writes you another message, rereading the one from earlier, too. 

To: Y/n :3 

hi. i noticed you weren’t in class today…  i hope you weren’t avoiding me. i want to apologize to you in person for what happened last night. can we meet up if that’s okay? Sent at 2:10 PM.

To: Y/n :3 

i’ll be at my dorm in 10 so just pass by when you have a chance. please. 

Sent at 2:17 PM

He presses send and watches, as you pick up your phone again, read the message at lightning speed, and put it away. 

Fuck. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Jisung feels absolutely fucking ridiculous. 

Why time seems to circle around you and waiting for you to come over so can apologize, he doesn’t know. The rest of his day is meaningless; he doesn’t eat, doesn’t study, doesn’t shower, doesn’t play video games, doesn’t call his mom, doesn’t do any of the things he normally does. 

You don’t pass by today, meaning you read his messages, and willingly ignored them or put them off. Doesn’t mean he didn’t think about you or thought about you less; your continuous absence gave him more time to think and dwell. 

He’s tired and feeling wide awake at the same time, missing your scent that he can no longer find on his sheets. Maybe he shouldn’t have washed them, even if they were filthy. He’s done worse things, like go to class with dried cum on his stomach, or used your cardigan to jack off. Your cardigan, that’s still by his desk, would have remnants of your scent, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up to retrieve it. And, even if he did, he would probably get hard and he definitely did not have the energy to jack off right now. 

So he tosses and turns restlessly until he passes out with his mouth half open and his leg half hanging off the bed. 

That night, he dreams of you. The next morning, he wakes up to someone continuously knocking on his door. 

“I’m coming,” he grumbles into his pillow, quite literally rolling out of bed and in the process, getting tangled up in his comforter and falling on the carpeted floor of his dorm with a thump.

Jisung lets out some sort of distressed moan before struggling to his feet and wobbling over to the door. His left hand rubs his elbow which braced his fall, while his injured arm reaches out for the doorknob.

The knocking hasn’t stopped, so when he opens his door, his eyes are narrowed with sleep and annoyance. 

“What?”

“Dude, why haven’t you called about the bathroom? I had to take a piss in the middle of the night and I stepped on toilet water. In my socks.”

Jisung only rolls his eyes at Mark, turning back to his bed and plopping down on it with a hiss as the rest of his body feels the damage of his fall. 

“Have you talked to her?”

“No.” Jisung grumbles.

“Okay.” Mark sighs, “Well, when are you supposed to see her again?”

Jisung looks at his phone for the time. “Right now.”

“What? Is she coming over? Should I go?”

“No, you’re good. I have astronomy with her right now.”

“When?”

With a pause, Jisung rubs his eyes as he calculates, “47 minutes ago.”

Mark huffs, “so you just didn’t go to class?”

“Nope.”

Mark steps further into the room, looking around. “Is she supposed to come over at all?”

“Hopefully.”

“Alright, then. Get up.” His eyes bounce around the room until he finds a trash bag behind a clutter of Jisung’s things, then repeats himself a little sharper. “Get up and start cleaning.”

Instantly, Jisung groans, rolling over and getting under his comforter that seconds later, is yanked off of him. He starts to complain but Mark just shoves a bag in his hands.

“Non-negotiable. You think you’re gonna win her back with your room looking like a rat’s nest? Tidy up a bit, man.”

“Okay, mom.”

Reluctantly, he follows Mark’s lead, throwing away empty water bottles and cans that littered his room, as Mark focuses on any other pointless trash like empty packaging boxes. 

“Where’s your hamper?” He asks, and Jisung extends a finger towards his closet. 

“Dude.” Jisung turns to him. “When’s the last time you did laundry? This shit is overflowing.”

“Haven’t had the energy.”

“You had plenty of energy before this week. Here,” he kicks it over carefully so it doesn’t tip, then points at the clothes that litter his room, “Put it all here and go wash it. I’ll make your bed and throw out the trash.”

Jisung has never missed his mom so much. Sure, she’d nag him about his mess for days on end, but she was his mom, so eventually, he’d come home and everything would be tidied up for him. He definitely took her for granted,  that much is painfully clear now as he gives Mark a long look of disdain. The older boy doesn’t budge; he only shoos Jisung away from the edge of the bed so he can get to work on spreading out the comforter. 

Jisung does as instructed, too tired to argue or form a fuss, especially when all Mark is doing is helping him. That being said, he does do it in a very Jisung fashion: shoving all clothes, clean or dirty, into the hamper and literally dragging it down the hall to the laundry room. That includes your cardigan, which he gives one last glance to before tossing in the washing machine. It’s about time he gave it back to you anyway.

He watches his clothes spin around and around in the cycle for two different reasons, the first being that he’s generally zoning out, thinking about you. The second being that he’s making time before going back to his room, cause despite his friends best efforts and even better intentions, he does not want to clean. 

But eventually, those two mix together, and he realizes Mark does have a point—if you came over and his room was a mess, that’s just one more thing he’d be embarrassed about. 

So, he leaves his things in the washer and sulks all the way back to his room where he finds Mark accommodating the clutter at his desk. 

“What a difference, huh?” Jisung wishes he could just shrug, but Mark’s eyes are filled with expectation. 

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!” He grins, grabbing his phone from the dresser. “I’ll leave you to it. Take a shower and try texting her again.”

Jisung nods once. 

He checks the time and notices that you’d be out of class shortly, and if you didn’t come over, he’d have to stop by yours later. Regardless of how, the plan is to talk to you today, because Jisung simply can’t keep existing with his even-waking thought being you. The minute that class wraps up, he types out a message to you as he walks over to the shower. He makes a quick call to maintenance for the bathroom down the hall before turning on his ringer in case you reply and stepping into the shower. 

For a while, he lets the water run over him, hissing as the temperature fluctuates between an acceptable barely-warm and an icy cold that matches the weather outside. The building’s heating system isn’t consistent or reliable, especially as the temperature drops more and more in the winter months, so he ceases his stalling and washes himself quickly before the water decides to stop cooperating.

He types away into his phone after wrapping the towel around his waist. 

“We… really… need… to,” he reads out his text as he writes it, sighing out the last word, “talk.” 

But as he walks down the hall to his room with the towel still hanging loosely and his hair dripping over his chest and shoulders, and consequently, the innocent carpet of the hallway, his feet skid to stop. Just as his finger presses send, he hears the ‘ding’ of the receiving end. 

Both of you look up from your screens at the same time. As Jisung jumps in surprise, his towel drops, and you yelp. 

“Sorry!” You spin around and cover your eyes as frantically looks around the hall to make sure no one else saw the mishap. He picks it up and ties it around himself again, securing it in his grip this time. 

“No– I–It’s fine. You… You can look.” It’s not like you haven’t seen it before. 

Cautiously you spin around, peeking through your fingers to check before peeling your hands from your face and dropping them at your sides. The air between the two of you is thick for a minute, until you sigh dejectedly. 

“I got your texts.” You smile weakly, and Jisung can’t help but mirror your slightly embarrassed expression. The moment is awkward and bittersweet, and neither of you move until Jisung realizes he’s still standing naked in the dormitory hallway. 

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head and moves to unlock his room door. “Here,” he gestures, and follows you inside. 

You move cautiously through the small space, glancing over at his bed and chair before deciding you don’t wanna take a seat. 

“I came over because…” you sigh again, “well, because we have to talk.” 

The only word he can utter is “yeah.” as he watches the way you shift your weight between your feet, not knowing he was doing the exact same thing. 

“Do you wanna wanna maybe…” 

He follows your gaze as it reaches his towel, and he almost jumps out of it again. 

“Right! Sorry! I-” he huffs, “could you just…” 

Wordlessly, you turn around and opt for twiddling your thumbs as he waddles over to a drawer and finds a pair of shorts and shirt to slip on, but not without glancing over his shoulder to make sure you aren’t looking. 

There’s no hiding the red in his face and ears as he spins back around with his lips pursed. “I’m done.”

There’s a pause as you spin around slowly… and another pause as both of you debate the right moment to speak up. It’s so awkward that his skin crawls and his mouth runs dry. There’s no noise, only the creaking of the floor as he walks to his bed and offers you a seat beside him.

“No, I-I’m okay with standing.”

Another pause.

“Jisung–”

“Y/n–

“You first.” You both reply, and you sigh as you realize you should probably go first, seeing as you’re the one who came over to talk in the first place. 

“Okay.” With a shaky breath, you nod to yourself once before speaking, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I came to talk to you because… Well, I saw your messages and… I don’t like how we left things off, Ji.” 

“Me either.” He admits, looking down at the floor as his mind swarms him with all the possible things you may or may not say. 

“I talked to Jaehyun earlier. He’s my, uh,”

“Ex.” He says at the same time as you, and both of you make eye contact.

Jisung’s heart pounds as you stand before him, voice tentative and unsure. When you say, “It wasn’t fair of me to downplay everything between us. I just… I got scared,” he can’t help but clench his jaw. He wants to be understanding, to remember that you’re figuring things out too, but the memory of you calling him just a friend gnaws at him. How was he supposed to take that?

“So… was it just comfort for you, then? Convenience? A quick fuck?” he blurts, his voice tight. “Because I thought I meant something to you.” He doesn’t intend for it to sound so raw, but the words slip out anyway, his vulnerability laid bare.

You look up at him finally, eyes wide. “You do. You mean more to me than anyone ever has, Jisung,” you say, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and longing. His heart stutters. 

You take a shaky breath. “I talked to Jaehyun about us.” Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up. You talked to Jaehyun, that much he knew. But about him? He swallows thickly, nodding for you to continue, bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say.

“He told me that… that you’re a good guy,” you continue, voice soft. “He said I’d be lucky if you… if we…” You trail off, biting your lip, and Jisung’s heart tightens. 

“So… Jaehyun’s okay with what happened between us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, looking at him with an intensity that makes his heart race. “He is. And he’s right, Jisung. You’re good to me, and I don’t want to push you away. I didn’t want to call it something more because I was afraid I’d mess it up. But now… I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of your words. He takes a small step toward you, closing the distance, his hand lifting almost on instinct to brush against your cheek.

“Are you serious?” he asks softly, his voice barely steady. “Because if you’re in, I’m in. I’ve been in this whole time. I’ve wanted us to be more, and if you’re ready, I’m… I’m here.”

You nod, relief and a hesitant smile lighting up your face. In that moment, Jisung’s fears and doubts melt away slowly. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, as if he’s finally found his way through the maze of emotions you both have been lost in.

In the warmth of his embrace, you whisper, “I’ve got you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung holds you close, but there’s a hesitation in his touch, like he’s afraid this might disappear if he lets himself fully believe it. His fingers press into your back, grounding himself in the feeling of you, warm and real against him. He swallows, his heart heavy with the months of wanting, wondering, hoping, and fearing. Finally, he lets his eyes close, murmuring, “I thought I’d have to keep pretending forever, you know? Like maybe if I just waited long enough, I’d be okay with just… us as friends.” He laughs softly, the sound more fragile than he intends. “But I was never okay. I don’t think I ever would’ve been.”

You pull back slightly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.  You search his eyes, looking for the hesitation, the doubt that lingers in his gaze. 

“I know,” you say quietly, your voice soft but full of sincerity. “I wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t give you the chance you deserved. I was so afraid of what it could mean, of what I could lose, that I… I pushed you away.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. “But now you’re here. Saying you want this… with me,” he whispers, his hands shaking slightly as he cups your face. “How do I know… how do I know you won’t change your mind again?”

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice quivering. “But I do know that I’m not running this time. I’m here.”

And then, almost imperceptibly, you both laugh. It’s soft at first, a tiny giggle that slips out between the quiet, and it catches both of you off guard. The sound is shaky, like it’s laced with the bittersweet relief of finally breaking the tension that’s been building between you for so long. 

“God,” Jisung chuckles, his hands moving down to your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze. 

The smile between you both widens as you inch closer, drawn by the gravity of each other’s presence. Slowly, almost cautiously, you lean in. And when your lips finally meet, it’s tender and slow. 

The kiss deepens, and this time, there’s no hesitation. Jisung pulls you closer, his hands resting at the small of your back, guiding you into him as if he wants to feel every inch of you, to make sure this is real. You respond just as eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of him, the gentleness that’s always been there beneath the surface.

His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell, as though he’s savoring the moment, soaking in everything that’s been unsaid for so long. The kiss is slow, deliberate, and full of promise. There’s no rush—just the sweet, simple taste of your mouth on his. 

When you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning at each other. His hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your lips, still tasting the lingering sweetness of the kiss.

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his. “I’ve always been here. I just needed to realize it.” You tilt your head back slightly, locking eyes with him.

With a gentle pull, Jisung brings you in for another kiss, this one more playful, less tender, but just as full of emotion. 

You pull away first, your lips tingling, and look at him with a teasing smile. “So, what now?” you ask, a little shy.

He raises an eyebrow, his grin matching yours. “Now, we take this one step at a time, but together.” He wraps his arms around you once more, pulling you into him with an ease that feels natural, “And maybe…” he starts, voice teasing as he buries his face in your neck, “we make up for lost time.”

You gasp out softly, tilting your head to give him room to continue to kiss and lick at your throat, “sounds… good to me.” 

He turns his head, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, “Let me lay you down, yeah?”

You nod, ‘Mhm…”

Jisung pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back as the space between you both shrinks. The air feels thick with anticipation, and the playful teasing that once filled the room fades, replaced by something deeper, more pressing. His touch is gentle yet urgent, guiding you toward the bed with a quiet confidence, the two of you knowing exactly what comes next. 

The world outside this moment feels distant, irrelevant. There’s nothing but the heat of his skin against yours, the way your bodies fit together so naturally, as he realizes, he finally got you. 

*. * ·

[fxstpace]

the subtle art of swinging.

summary. park sunghoon is the spider-man. he's also your best friend. he's also hopelessly in love with you. between fighting crime and intercepting alien invasions, park sunghoon barely has the time to confess his feelings to you. lucky for him, you've got him covered.

or, five times park sunghoon tries to ask you out, and one time you ask him out instead.

pairing. spider-man!park sunghoon x fem!reader genres. fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers!au, spider-man!au, college!au, attempts at comedy, idiots to idiots in love, 5 + 1 things word count. 5.0k

↳ warnings. profanity, mentions of violence but absolutely nothing graphic ↳ a/n. reposted from my old blog.

ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF SWINGING INTO A WALL

Park Sunghoon swears he isn’t trying to be stupid. 

It’s just that when he sees you, his mouth dries up, the words he want to say get stuck on the tip of his tongue and he can’t force them out no matter what, he feels his brain turn to mush and his legs turn to jelly, and—

You’re laughing. At him.

All because he swung face-first into a goddamn brick wall.

You don’t even know it’s him—he has a mask made out of spandex covering his face, thankfully—but he saw you on the street, talking to the old lady who sells churros next to the sandwich place both of you love. He may have lost all directional sense after that, because one minute he’s watching you gesture animatedly while you converse with the shopkeeper, and the next he slams solidly into the brick-red compound of the building he was supposed to swing over.

At least his webbing is still intact.

Sunghoon’s pride, on the other hand? Completely, utterly shattered.

For a minute, there’s silence—a sort of muffled, hazy silence that blankets everyone, the kind that’s impossibly rare to come by in a city which never sleeps—and then every single person whips out their phones and takes pictures, giggling to themselves throughout. It’s not every day Spider-Man accidentally swings into a wall, after all.

Sunghoon can already picture the headlines: City’s Masked Superhero Can Fight Aliens But Is Apparently Blind When Confronted By A Gigantic Barricade. Or worse. He can hear J. Jonah Jameson’s voice in his head, bellowing into the cameras, “Breaking news everyone, this just in: Spidey has been caught lackin’! Is he truly good at his job or is he just a farce? We may never know.”

He peels his head off hard brick, contorting his neck to relieve all the cricks, and that’s when he makes direct eye contact with you.

He swears his heart stops beating—but it starts again in less than a second, starts rabbiting around like it always does when he sees you, before settling back down into its regular rhythm. It’s only then that he remembers his feet and fingers are still glued to the wall.

He pries them off, wincing at the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and glances at you again. 

You have a few churros in your hand, wrapped neatly in butter paper—no doubt a gift from the old lady—and you have your phone in your hand. He watches your fingers fly rapidly over the screen, notices the slight tilt to your head, the way your tongue pokes out of your lips slightly, the amusement at his mishap still running through your veins.

He hears the ping of the notification through his mask before you even put your phone down. 

The letters swim in front of his eyes, on the screen in front of him.

(11:36) Y/N: HOONIE!!!! u wont BELIEVE what i just saw!!!! I SAW SPIDERMAN CRASH INTO A WALL LMFAOOOO

Sunghoon winces. He should probably tell you that there’s a hyphen separating the words ‘spider’ and ‘man’, but he doesn’t want to burst your obvious elation at the city’s most prominent superhero’s accident. (Despite the fact that you’re the cause for him losing all 

common sense, in the first place.)

He doesn’t get the chance to form another coherent thought before a yell from below gets his attention. Specifically because it’s your voice.

“Hey!” You have your hands placed on your waist, your bundle of churros tucked into the corner of your arm as you squint up at him. “Need some help getting down?”

Unlike the jeers of the onlookers with their phones still out, you don’t sound malicious at all. You sound genuinely concerned, as though he isn’t Spider-Man, who’s fought off a hundred different villains and rescued the earth from alien infestations. You talk to him like he’s just a regular guy who accidentally swung onto a building and now finds himself in this precarious position.

His chest warms at the thought. “No thanks!” he hollers back. “I’m good.”

He lets his feet loosen up, feels his muscles relax and then he pushes himself off the wall, letting the momentum pull him through a graceful somersault before he lands softly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You ignore the passersby.

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon replies. “Are you okay?”

You look at him strangely, and Sunghoon can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one who almost broke my nose because I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

Sunghoon shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You have a point, he supposes. He clears his throat. “Right, um. Thanks for offering to help me out.”

“No problem,” you reply easily, the corners of your lips rising upwards. “I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t have our city’s best line of defence get obliterated because of a wall.”

Sunghoon’s not sure whether he’s supposed to feel happy about the fact that you’re worried about him despite not knowing who he is or if he’s supposed to be embarrassed at you pointing out his lapse of attention.

“Listen,” he begins, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins, run its course throughout his body, and settle at his heart, “do you… maybe want to get some coffee with me? As a thank you. For offering to help.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “I’m not sure that warrants a coffee date.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon hurriedly says, heart thumping erratically, “I swear. I just want to thank you.”

You purse your lips, drawing out a sigh that’s in between contemplation and refusal. Sunghoon’s heart sinks—he knows that expression of yours all too well. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man. You’re a great superhero and I’m sure you’re a really nice person behind the mask, but… I’m actually running late for a meet-up with my best friend. I’m sorry.” You shrug apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay, uh—” Sunghoon licks his lips— “n-no worries. I’ll see you around.”

“Break a leg, Spider-Man.” You salute him with two fingers. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

He manages a smile, then realises you can’t see it through his mask—and then realises that the friend who’s meet-up you’re running late to is with him, so he’s going to see you again, anyway. The thought makes him smile again, this time wider, and he can feel his cheeks crinkle at the corners.

He stretches an arm out, presses his web shooter and swings onto the top of the building. Maybe he’ll have to deal with you retelling the story of how he crashed into a wall with extreme detail and lots of exaggeration, and Sunghoon should probably feel extremely embarrassed about it. Instead, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Maybe he should crash into walls more often.

TWO — THE SUBTLE ART OF ACCIDENTALLY ASKING YOUR PROFESSOR OUT

Park Sunghoon is decidedly fucked.

He’s late—unbearably so—but what else is he supposed to do if a platoon of aliens show up in the middle of his Introduction to Organic Chemistry class and he has to stop them from blowing up the president’s summer retreat? Once the situation is wrapped up and the foreign visitors agree to sign a peace treaty with earth, he’s effectively missed three classes, skipped lunch, and is currently running late to a study session you planned out after classes.

He supposes he can make up for it—he’s not sure how, but… something is better than nothing, right? He swings down in front of a flower shop, hurriedly asks for a bouquet and a box of chocolates, places a wad of money bills on the counter and swings away. The whole interaction takes place in less than fifteen minutes, but Sunghoon is in a hurry. He has a slew of texts from you, all detailing the same thing: That if he doesn’t magically appear in the next ten minutes, you’re leaving, and you better make it up to him somehow.

Sunghoon touches down on the rooftop of your university’s library and quickly removes his Spider-Man suit, stuffing it into his backpack and shouldering it. He heads down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time, and comes to a standstill in front of the Biology section of the library. It’s the least crowded part of the library, which is why you and Sunghoon have chosen it as your designated spot.

He sees you immediately and braces himself for the telltale quickening of his heart. You smile at him as soon as you spot him, raising a hand in greeting. Books and sheets of paper are scattered around the table in front of you, and your hair is messy, swept up hastily. You’re wearing your favourite sweater with the coffee stain down the front, because even though it’s not something you would wear in public, it’s still the most comfortable piece of clothing you own.

Sunghoon’s lips curl upwards on their own accord. The words form on the tip of his tongue, as they always do. He wants to tell you—he’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you—and it would be so easy to confess right then and there. He walks towards you.

Fate is never kind to him, it seems.

Sunghoon keeps his eyes fixed on you, which is why he doesn’t notice his Organic Chemistry professor walk right across him.

In his defence, Professor Kwon is short, with a head full of bountiful grey curls and a pink flower-patterned umbrella always tucked underneath her arm. She barely comes up to Sunghoon’s shoulders, so she’s never in Sunghoon’s line of vision unless he’s sitting down.

It’s no wonder he collides into her. 

Professor Kwon lets out a startled “Ooh!”, the stack of papers in her hand flying out of grip and falling around him and his teacher like snowflakes on a winter morning. She twists her lips at him, mouth downturned like she just sucked a lemon raw, and tuts disapprovingly at him.

Sunghoon feels his cheeks blaze as he bends down and gathers all the loose sheets of paper and stacks them. He doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re gleefully watching the whole encounter. He tucks the bouquet and chocolates into the crook of his arm and hands the stack of papers to Professor Kwon, mumbling an apology.

“Well, you better be sorry,” she says, looking up and down at him—except she has to crane her neck at him to meet his eyes, and the sight is so hilarious, Sunghoon needs to stifle his laughter. Then her eyes narrow in recognition, and Sunghoon stiffens, dread pooling in his stomach. 

She pauses for a minute. “Aren’t you the young man who ran out halfway through my class? Is your stomach feeling better now?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you snort and then cover it up as a cough. 

Sunghoon wants to melt into the floor, pretend like he’s one of the tiles on the ground. “Yes ma’am,” he answers politely instead, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Hmm.” She scrutinises him carefully, reaching out with her free hand and pinching his stomach. “Indigestion is a serious issue, young man. Make sure you have enough ginger in your diet—it helps with your toilet problems.”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Now, how do you plan to make up for your lost lesson?” 

Sunghoon licks his lips. “I’m… not sure, ma’am. I could come over for a remedial class—”

“Oh, please. You insult me.” Professor Kwon lets out a giggle. “Remedial classes are such mediaeval methods. These days teachers will let anything go for a small price. Young, handsome men like you especially…”

Sunghoon nearly chokes on his own spit. “I—”

“Just some flowers and chocolates will be fine,” his teacher waves him off good-naturedly, as though this is a conversation she has all the time. Her eyes land pointedly on the flowers and the chocolate box still tucked safely in his arms. 

“Oh. Um.” Sunghoon curses his luck. He’s Spider-Man, after all—shouldn’t he get some slack? All he wants is to ask you out, and if not that, at least spend some time with you without getting caught up in outworldly situations all the time. 

Professor Kwon’s expression turns serious upon noticing his hesitation. “Of course, not every teacher is as lenient as I’m being. Some would—and I’m really just throwing it out here—assign compensatory essays, or—”

He hurriedly shoves the bouquet and the chocolates into Professor Kwon’s waiting arms. 

“No, ma’am. Thank you very much for being so kind to me.”

“Not a bother, not a bother,” she waves him off again, smiling thinly at him. “Anything for my students.”

Sunghoon bows and waits patiently for her to skitter away from him, finally letting out a loose breath that has his shoulders slumping forward and his head hanging dejectedly. He drags himself to your table, places his bag on the desk, and buries his head into his arms in such a way that half his upper body is spread-eagled across the wooden desk. A tired, muffled groan escapes his lips.

“Rough day?” Your voice is soft, and you tentatively reach out and gently run a hand through his hair.

Sunghoon lets out another groan in response, closing his eyes when he feels your touch. He lifts up his head and props his chin on the desk, glancing at you. You have a soft smile playing on your lips, eyes twinkling.

“You recorded all of that, didn’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question; Sunghoon has all your tendencies mapped out in his head, and you would never pass up on an opportunity to record his humiliation.

“Yup.” You grin at him, patting your pocket where your phone is stowed away. “I won’t show it to anyone, don’t worry.”

It’s a small consolation. He decides to let it slide. “By the way, the flowers and the chocolates were for you. To apologise for being late.”

“Oh.” To Sunghoon’s surprise, you sound… bashful, almost. His heart skitters at the revelation. “That’s alright. I’m not a big fan of flowers anyway. Are you hungry? You skipped lunch, too, didn’t you? We could go get some ramen.”

“That sounds good.” Sunghoon smiles wearily at you. He just hopes there isn’t another national emergency to divert his attention from you and the time he gets to spend with you.

THREE — THE SUBTLE ART OF ALMOST DATING YOUR HOMIE

Sunghoon’s not sure his roommate, Lee Heeseung, is completely normal.

He’s the only one who knows about Sunghoon’s secret identity, and Sunghoon relies on him to make up some believable reason for his often and sudden disappearances. The last time, when he had to escape in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class and that whole debacle with Professor Kwon took place, Heeseung had said Sunghoon had indigestion. He assumes his roommate has fun coming up with excuses. As long as his secret remains safe, Sunghoon’s not too concerned.

Despite all the help Heeseung has provided him with, he wants nothing more than to toss him over their shared apartment’s balcony.

For the past half an hour, he’s been consistently badgering him. Specifically about you.

“Have you told her you like her yet?”

The question drags a tired sigh out of Sunghoon’s lips. He’s hunched over his Physics textbook, scribbling down notes, and he could really appreciate some peace—but that’s not something he should expect when he lives with the human equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

“No, Heeseung,” he reiterates, “I haven’t had the time.”

Heeseung flops dramatically across the couch. “Dude. You need serious help.”

“Do I?” Sunghoon murmurs absent-mindedly, wondering how to calculate the coefficient of friction with the variables he’s been given.

“Yes.” When he notices his roommate not paying attention to him, Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Stop doing homework, you have more important matters to attend to.”

Sunghoon finally tears his tired gaze away from the numericals printed out on the page. He locks eyes with Heeseung, barely aware of the tic in his left eye. “Like what?”

His roommate throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Like Y/N! And the fact that you’re in love with her!”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t going to work. C’mere.” He gestures to Sunghoon to come sit next to him on the couch. Once he makes his way to the couch and sits next to him, Heeseung takes both his hands in his. “Consider this an intervention.”

Sunghoon leans back and lets his head fall against the couch cushions. This is going to be good.

“Okay, so,” Heeseung begins, “she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man—no one knows that except me—but you love her, don’t you? Just walk up to her, tell her you can show her something she’s never seen before, swing her up to a rooftop somewhere, and watch the sunset with her. Tell her you love her and that you can’t live without her, and your heart beats only for her—trust me, girls love romantic stuff like that—and then tell her you’re also Spider-Man. Easy.”

All Sunghoon can do is laugh. There’s no way Heeseung is serious about this.

“I’m being serious,” Heeseung says. “How long are you going to keep hiding this from her? Y/N’s your best friend, don’t you think you should tell her that you’re basically in mortal peril every other day?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling her,” Sunghoon says. “What if some villain finds out she’s special to me and does something to her to get back at me?”

His friend looks dubious. “You really think that could happen?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon turns his head to look at Heeseung. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you either.”

Heeseung chews his lip thoughtfully. “I kind of see what you mean. But…” He squeezes Sunghoon’s hand once, gently. “It’s Y/N. I think she would want to know.”

Sunghoon considers it—for a brief half-minute, he actually thinks about it—and then shakes his head. “It’s better to keep her safe.”

You have the worst possible timing. (Perhaps it’s Sunghoon’s fault for having given you a spare key to his apartment.)

The door swings open and you walk into the living room, two bags of takeaway in your hand. “Guess who’s got food!”

Then you pause, survey the situation in front of you, and your jaw drops.

Sunghoon and Heeseung, both on the couch, sitting so close to each other, their knees are brushing. Sunghoon’s hands are still being held by Heeseung, the latter rubbing circles on his palm. Belatedly, Sunghoon realises what this must look like to you.

He shoots up to his feet. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh my God.” You raise your arms. “Am I interrupting something? I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Heeseung and I, we’re not—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Your repeated reassurances don’t do anything to assure him. “You guys look good together! Congratulations on graduating from cherry boy university, Hoon!”

Sunghoon lowers his head, crimson creeping up his cheeks. He turns around and faces Heeseung, who’s busy snickering on the couch. “This is all your fault.”

You look between them curiously. “Are you both dating?”

“No,” Sunghoon says at the same time Heeseung says, “Possibly.”

He glares at his friend. “No, Y/N, we are not together. Heeseung knows I like someone else.”

“You like someone else?”

There’s the barest hint of hurt in your tone, a slight hitch in your voice that Sunghoon picks up on easily. “I—yes.”

“You never told me.” 

Your voice is carefully calm and you fiddle with the handle of the takeaway bags. Sunghoon winces; he takes a step forward and grabs your elbow, gently forcing you to look up at him. “I was going to tell you. I just… forgot.”

It's the worst possible excuse he could come up with. Your eyes harden. Thankfully, Heeseung swoops in. “He’ll tell you soon, Y/N. He just never has good timing.”

You poke your tongue in the inside of your cheek. “It… doesn’t matter. I brought Chinese,” you say, lips pursed into a threadbare smile, “so all that’s left is to pick the movie.”

You move into the living room and playfully poke Heeseung’s legs to make space. Sunghoon closes the door behind you, a heavy feeling in his gut.

He’s fucked up. Big time. No matter what, he can’t get the look of dejectedness on your face out of his mind.

Sunghoon decides he’s going to tell you. Somehow. Even if you don’t return his feelings, at least he’ll be free of the burden of keeping them hidden. 

With new conviction in his head, he strides over to where you are.

FOUR — THE SUBTLE ART OF GETTING HIT ON

Sunghoon loves you—he really does—but despite his obvious affection towards you, he still thinks you’re acting slightly (read: extremely) delusional.

“A… Spider-Man love blog?” he asks weakly, sitting opposite you.

“Yeah!” You nod your head vigorously, obviously excited. “J. Jonah Jameson started a Spider-Man conspiracy theory blog, so I figured I need to start a blog to support Spider-Man and all his endeavours. Too much hate is a bad thing, and… well, he is kind of hot. Objectively speaking.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know whether to grimace at the fact that J. Jonah Jameson started a page on conspiracy theories about him, laugh at the fact that you want to start a blog to support him, or melt like an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon at the fact that you just called him objectively hot.

He tries to do a mixture of all three. You glance at him, concerned. “Did you just have a stroke or something?”

Sunghoon purses his lips together, going back to his usual deadpan expression. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you say dismissively. “Well, what do you think of the blog idea?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Sunghoon agrees. “It’s like a little Spider-Man support group. Except you aren’t suffering from addiction.”

“Exactly!” you agree, perking up even more. “That’s actually a really cool slogan, thanks Hoon.”

“No problem.” Sunghoon feels his mouth dry, but before he can second guess himself, he says, “Hey, you said Spider-Man is hot?”

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know who else is hot?”

“Tom Holland?” Your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh, I know! Andrew Garfield!”

“No—I mean, yes but—” Sunghoon heaves out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

You cock your head to the side. “Who do you mean, then?”

He takes in a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. “I was talking about—”

He’s about to say you when the fire alarm rings. You stand up, eyes widening—not with excitement, but with panic flaring up inside you. Sunghoon stands up too; how did he not notice something was off? The hair at the back of his neck tingles. He needs to get you out of here—now.

“Y/N,” he says hurriedly, “you need to leave. Go out the fire escape.” He shoves you none too gently towards the fire escape, but you stumble forward and then stop.

“Hoon,” you say, and he can hear the mounting fear in your voice, “what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assures. A series of bangs follows his statement, and he narrows his eyes at the direction of the sound. “But you need to leave. Now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but when you hear a loud clang echo down the stairwell, you close your mouth and run towards the staircase. Sunghoon waits for you to disappear from his sight, before turning on his heel and grabbing his suit from his bag.

God, supervillains really have the worst timing. All Sunghoon wanted to do was tell you he thought you were hot, too, but that he found you more beautiful than anything else.

FIVE — THE SUBTLE ART OF EXPOSING YOUR CRUSH

Sunghoon is so, so tired.

He lands in front of a small, quiet lake in a park you used to come to with him. The ambience is perfect for when you want to spend time alone, in solitude. A family of ducks paddles gently over the water; it’s peaceful and serene—completely unlike the destruction he just had to deal with, and the  turbulence currently running through his mind.

He pulls his mask off his head and runs a tired hand through his hair. Wearily, he sinks down onto the grass, feeling the cool breeze caress his skin and the rustle of the leaves of the giant tree under whose shade he’s sitting.

He blinks once, slowly, and then again, and when a duck lets out a quack, he opens his mouth and lets everything spill out, like sand pouring through an overturned hourglass.

(He’s aware he’s talking to ducks. He doesn’t care.)

“Screw this shit. I never wanted to be a hero, you hear me? I never wanted to be bitten by a stupid spider, I didn’t ask for all this—I didn’t ask for all this! God, what does a guy need to do to have some time to tell his best friend he’s in love with her?!”

His rant falls on silent ears—but then, he hears the crunch of dried leaves, and he whips around.

Your head pokes out from behind the tree trunk. “Hoon?”

“Y/N,” he breathes out, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”

“You said you’d be right behind me!” Despite the false bravado in your voice, he can hear how wobbly you actually sound.

“I-I was. Technically.” He takes a tentative step towards you, one arm stretched out placatingly.

“You never told me you were Spider-Man!” Your voice increases in pitch steadily with each word.

“I didn’t tell you to protect you—”

“Oh my God, you were in mortal peril every day and I didn’t even know!”

“Heeseung said the same thing, but—”

“Heeseung knew all along, of course he did!”

“I only told him because—”

“And—and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me!”

“Okay, I wasn’t telling you, I was telling the ducks, but—”

“Sunghoon!” You throw your hands up in the air wildly, gaze roaming rapidly across his face. “You’re in love with me!”

He sucks in a breath sharply. “I feel like that’s not the most important thing here.”

Of all the ways he thought he would confess to you, this is decidedly not something that crossed his mind even once. He’d always pictured flowers, holding your hand, maybe even a romantic stroll down this very park. He’d certainly never imagined you’d find out about both his secrets on the same day—all while he was busy ranting about his hero complex to a bunch of birds who didn’t pay him any attention.

“Y/N,” he tries again, “please let me explain.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s nothing there to explain.”

With that, you turn away and walk past him. Sunghoon’s heart sinks. He crumples the material of the mask in his hand, feeling the cloth twist underneath his fingertips just like his heart twists into knots with every step you take away from him.

PLUS ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND

You have Sunghoon cornered, your arms crossed across your chest and your expression stern. “You need to listen to me.”

Sunghoon gulps. It’s been a week since he accidentally let both his secrets slip, and this is the first time he’s talking to you in person since then. You’d sent him a text with a simple message. Library, first thing after lunch. Sunghoon had complied, and here he is now.

“So. Heeseung explained everything to me,” you say. 

“He—he did?”

You glance at him shortly. “Yeah, he did. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me about—about your condition, Hoon. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he replies immediately. “If I found out my best friend was a secret vigilante risking his life every day, I think I’d react the same way.”

You smile at him then, and his heart jumps inside his chest. He smiles back. “But that’s not the main reason I called you here,” you continue. “What I really called you here for was…”

You trail off, looking down, and Sunghoon is hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia. Why are you being so bashful around him all of a sudden? “Was…” he gently prompts.

You swallow, lifting up your chin and looking him in the eye. “I wanted to tell you that I’m in love with you too.”

Park Sunghoon swears time stops, and the whole world comes to a standstill. The words ring in his ears, echoing inside his head. His lips part, and he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“I—Say that again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

He sees the flicker in your eyes, notices how you’re ready to compete with him for this. “I love you, Park Sunghoon. I don’t care about the fact that you’re Spider-Man.”

Sunghoon takes a step towards you, holding your shoulders gently, like you’re made of glass. “I love you too.”

You grin at him, your own arms encircling his waist and coming to rest on his back. “I know that.”

And then you tip your head forward and capture his lips with your own. He gasps at first, before kissing you back with equal force, one hand tugging you closer to him and the other curving around your torso.

You giggle into the kiss, and Sunghoon’s lips twitch upwards. He’s giddy, weightless, floating through the air like a feather being carried by the wind. The feeling he gets when he’s swooping through the rooftops of the city is nothing compared to the feeling of your lips slotted against his and his arms wrapped around you.

Park Sunghoon swears he doesn’t try to act stupid normally. But if it makes you smile, he’s willing to do anything.

[karmasloverrr]

godspeed - rafe cameron

pairings- rafe cameron x maybank reader, established relationship

SZN 4 SPOILER!!!!!!!!!!!! you’ve been warned

this takes place in ep 10 right after everyone’s fighting and all that

———————————————————————————

The adrenaline was still running through your vains, like the hot, dusty sand you all found yourself in over the past couple of hours. Your hands are shaking, can’t fully grasp the weight of what you’ve just done.

“Baby?” You snap out of your shocked haze when a pair of comforting, familiar hands come to rest on the side of your waist , “a-are you ok?” His blue, stress ridden eyes bore into yours.

You take a shaky breath in, letting the gun you held drop to the ground below your feet. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you jump up into him. “He almost killed you, Rafe. I thought I was gonna lose you, I-I didn’t have any other choice, he was so close to-“, your rambling was paused by him shushing you quietly and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down your back, his other gripping the back of your head like his life depended on it.

“I know, I know, breathe Y/N, breathe” You were sobbing now. Not out of remorse for one of Dalia’s men, whom you had just shot dead out of defense for Rafe, but because you almost lost the love of your life.

Rafe pulls away, still keeping a hand on your back, keeping you close. “You just saved my life, Y/N. I’m so proud of you for being strong, it’s gonna be ok.” He was now using a thumb to wipe the tears falling from your eyes.

You nod frantically in understanding, sniffiling and leaning into his palms touch. Bringing a hand to his on your cheek, you intertwine fingers. “Are you o-ok? I mean you almost just got stabbed, Rafe. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if-“. He places both hands on your face now, demanding your attention.

“Hey, listen to me. You did exactly what I would’ve done if you were just in my situation, ok? Hell, I would’ve beat that fuckers face in before I let him get the chance to even go near you so don’t overthink this for a second, do you understand? I love you so much.”

You licked your lips and nodded. After Rafe had told you to stay with Kiara when he went to bide JJ some time with the crown, he got into trouble with one of Dalia’s men and hadn’t come back. You couldn’t stay still knowing he was by himself.

Despite protest from Kiara and how your brother needed you right now, you ran to look for Rafe. You could hear the sound of distress and punches being thrown before you could see them. Even through poor visibility you knew it was Rafe, your Rafe, being attacked. As you got closer you could see that he was being held at knife point and without thinking you pulled the gun out that rested at your hip and fired at the man’s back.

With JJ’s constant tutorials and a little bit of practice over the years you hit your target dead on. Except this time it wasn’t a beer bottle or a teddy bear, it was a human being and nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

Rafe continued to try and work you down from the shock and complete panic, rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your hairline. He eventually brought a smile onto your face when he praised your accuracy and said how bad ass it was, “that’s my girl”.

“It was kind of badass wasn’t it?” He let out a laugh at your rebuttal. Even in your state of mind, the sound of it made your stomach tingle with butterflies.

“If I’m gonna be honest, after I realized what just happened and saw you standing there, I got a little turned o-“, you scoffed at his antics and pushed him away from you playfully. “Shut up.”

He pulled you back into him before you got any farther, wrapping both arms around your waist, in turn you grabbed his biceps, looking into the eyes that you love so much.

You let your smile fade a little when you saw his eyes glaze over, knowing he was about to get emotional.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You saved me and I couldn’t possibly thank you enough, please don’t feel guilty or anything like that. I would do anything for you too, y’know that.”

“I know, and seeing you like that, in that danger, made me sick and I-I just blacked out.” He nodded slowly in understanding, “but I’d do it again if it meant that you were ok.” you continued.

You were now the one stroking his arms in comfort, his head nodding up and down telling you he was processing it all. Now putting yourself on your tip toes to reach his face, you placed your lips on his in a loving kiss.

Pulling away, you placed your forehead on his. “It’s you and me, Cameron. Always.” He pulled away and placed a loving peck on the crown of your head, “Damn right, sweetheart.”

Taking his hand in yours, you began to walk back towards the direction that Kiara and JJ were. “Let’s go see if J found this fucking thing.”

Rafe scoffed but followed your lead, “I’ve had enough of this fairytale pogue sh-“, you gave him a ‘really?’ look, to which he held his hand up in defense and shrugged.

“They’ve made it this far, you’ve gotta hand it to them and besides, this is a little exciting don’t you think?”

He frowned and shook his head, “Almost just got stabbed to death but yeah, sure, having a grand old time.” You giggled at his sarcasm, used to it by now.

Walking up the hill, you exaggeratedly began to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to which he protested against immediately stating “this isn’t a rom-com, please stop” but deep down, he loved seeing you make light out of a shitty situation.

He knows it’s due to you being so used to doing it because of Luke growing up, which never fails to make his heart beat in rage, but everything in his world is ok, perfect, when he gets to see you smiling like this.

When you both reach the top, there’s an absence of your little brother and Kiara that causes your smile and stomach to drop. The sandstorm passed yet they’re still nowhere in sight.

“JJ?” you call out, in hopes that they’re possibly somewhere in ear range. Nothing.

“J! Kie! Guys?” You let go of Rafe’s hand, heading to go circle around the statue.

“Woah, don’t go by yourself. If they’re someplace close by they sure as hell didn’t stick around here, let’s head back towards the buildings. They probably met back up with John B and Sarah.”

You shook your head, “No, if they got the crown and were ok, they would’ve just came and found us. Rafe, somethings not right.” You started to head more towards the statue in hopes that they went a different direction but Rafe steps infront of you before you can get any further.

“Hey, stop. I know you’re worried but incase you forgot, it’s not just them that Daria’s men are looking for, ok? I’m not letting you get hurt in the process of trying to find them.”

You took the arm that he held out to his side as a barrier and shoved it. “Rafe, that’s my brother, please we need to at least look around the area and see-“ He began to side step along with you so you couldn’t move around him.

“I understand that, Y/N/N, but let’s use the brain I know you have and think rationally, alright? They probably went back with the group assuming we were there too, ok? Let’s start there.”

You shook your head in annoyance, you’ve always been stubborn and you’re certainly not budging about this. “All I’m saying, Rafe, is that we check around the area first, m-maybe they didn’t hear me when I yelled.”

“Baby, please listen to m-“

“John B! Pope! Y/N!”

You whipped your head to the direction of Kiara’s wail echoing through the air. A sound of desperation like you’ve never heard and don’t wanna hear again. “Oh my god.” you whispered in fear.

Rafe looked at you with agony in his eyes, recognizing the same fret in her voice that you did. Without any hesitation you took off down the hill, not listening to Rafe’s protest to “wait for him”.

Your mind was moving as fast as your legs, you didn’t know where you were going but it’s like your body knew exactly where to take you.

Weaving down and through the same maze like corridors that you had escaped from earlier led you closer to the sounds of your friends, “Kie?”, you yelled out in despair, now acknowledging Rafe’s footsteps a few seconds behind you.

You felt the room before you saw it, your stomach already declaring that somethings wrong, very wrong. Before you could brace yourself, you saw the image infront of you. Blood. John B shaking him. Kiara with her head on his chest and hands on his stomach. JJ.

“JJ?” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as it barely came out of your mouth, cracking and whispery, desperate and defeated.

Stumbling to a halt against Rafe’s chest, you felt your legs giving out from underneath you, a pair of arms coming to catch you before you collapsed. No, not him, please God, don’t do this to me, no. Rafe’s arms were the only thing keeping you stable while you began to crumble, him collapsing down to the floor with you as weeps exited your mouth, shaking your whole body.

You didn’t have to look at him very long to know he’s gone, you could feel it. Sobs and pleads from the group didn’t register against your own. It sounded so foreign coming out of your body. “He’s dead” you sobbed, physically feeling your heart breaking. “JJ, no”, you wailed. Your head feels a thousand pounds as you slowly lift it off the ground.

Rafe has his own placed against the top of your spine, his forehead making a known presence on your back, still gripping your arms as if you’ll go too if he doesn’t. To the best of your ability you try to stand, legs still feeling mush as you feel Rafe’s touch disappear the closer you get to your little brother.

Halfway through, you give up on the poor excuse for walking and collapse back to the ground again, now crawling towards his lifeless body. “JJ, wake up, please!”. The only sounds you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your sobbing screams and your heart breaking.

Your palm meets his face, already feeling so cold and lifeless, the exact opposite of JJ Maybank. “Please don’t do this to me. W-wake up, JJ!”. You continue stroking his cheek, patting it lightly a few times, hoping, begging, pleading for your brother to wake up.

Stroking his hair, you shake your head out of disbelief. Hushed whispers exit your lips, trying to reach the deepest parts of him.“I can’t do this without you JJ, don’t leave me.” It’s been you and him against the world, the shit hand you’ve been given wasn’t too bad when you had each other to fall back on.

Growing up you found solice in each other, you didn’t need anyone to help you or comfort you, you had your little brother and he had his older sister. When Luke was to drunk to help JJ get ready for school in the morning, it was you brushing his hair, picking out his outfit, making his lunch. With your mother long gone, you took pride in being that figure in his life and it was your greatest achievement, seeing the man he had turned into, no matter how rebellious and defiant, you loved him like your own, and now that he’s gone, what’s left for you?

“Who was it? Kiara, who did this to him?” you now turned your attention from JJ to Kie, her looking just as horrified as the rest of the group. A look of disgusted rage took over your face, your stomach bubbling with hatred.

She sniffled before speaking, “Chandler, h-he stabbed him, I- JJ saved me and gave him the crown, I don’t know- I can’t.” She began to sob, recalling the traumatic moment.

Motherfucker. If the betrayal wasn’t enough, knowing JJ was just trying to save his loved one and this is how he’s repaid?

You can’t see or think straight, one moment you’re mourning the loss of your best friend and the next you’re taking all the strength you have left and standing up with the gun on your hip, reloading the clip and heading towards the direction Kie said he went.

You don’t get very far before Sarah and John B rush to your side. “Y/N. Stay. We need you right now. Don’t do this.” You shake them off of you, sending your elbow into John B’s stomach in the process. “Get the fuck off of me.”

You whip around and point the gun at the group, they look at you in shock, not processing what’s going on. Your breathing is uneasy as you lick the forming sweat off your lips. “If any of you touch me one more time, I swear t-to God. I’m going to kill Groff and none of you are getting in my way.”

Looking around you see the faces of your best friends, sad, confused, and angry. The gun pointed at them has your stomach dropping. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” The gun you have aimed at them is making you sick all over again.

Rafe takes a few hesitant steps forward when he sees you begin to rub your chest anxiously, knowing it’s your way of trying to work your way down from a panic attack.

“Sweetheart, put the gun down, ok?” None of his words are registering with you. He’s gone, he’s gone, JJ’s dead.

Rafe catches you just before you start to collapse again, this time into the comfort of his chest and arms. He takes the gun that’s hanging loosely from your hand and reaches it behind his back for John B to take.

“Rafe, he’s dead. He’s g-gone.” sobbing the dreadful words into his chest, his shirt catching your tears. You’re both on the ground now, him cradling you like a toddler as he rocks you back and forth in comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, baby.” He strokes your hair and rubs your back, soaking in all of your pain. Your sobs begin to muffle as the others join in with you, still begging JJ to wake up, to open his eyes and to come back.

The weight of the air feels similar to your chest, no matter how much comfort and apologies Rafe whispers into your hair, it’s still not enough, your baby brothers gone and he’s never coming back.

The warmth of the fire fans your face. Emotionally and physically drained is where you and the Pogues have found yourself. Rafe keeps a steady eye on you as your head leans against his shoulder, knowing the last time you spoke was a few hours ago when he buried JJ, none of you being able to bring yourselves to do it.

Stray tears slip down your face, your expression remaining uninterested and dry. The only sound that can be heard is an occasional sniffing from the group and the cracks of the wood in the dying out fire infront of you.

You feel Rafe’s heartbeat against your back and his chest move when he talks. “I don’t know. If it was my friend I’d probably go after the guy that just killed him, yeah?” You take a steady breath in, getting ready to defend him when Pope tells him to “shut up”.

“You guys think that JJ would just sit here if it was one of us?” The whole group turns its attention to you, knowing you’ve been far too quiet for far too long, like JJ, you can be a ticking time bomb in moments like these.

John B is the first to speak up, “We all know what JJ would do. He’d get even.” You nod, still looking at the fire, kicking some sand as you stand up to begin pacing in rage.

Rafe watches your moves carefully, ready to defend you and back you up for whatever you’re about to say. He trusts you and he’s knows your best interest, you could tell him the sky was purple and he’d agree, while placing a loving kiss on your cheek.

You shake your head in agreement, feeling the never subsided rage bubble back up into your throat.

“Revenge.”

———————————————————————————

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ “YOU’RE SO GORGEOUS I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING TO YOUR FACE!”

— karasu and his shy girlfriend!

characters: karasu tabito x fem!reader contents: fluff, teasing, reader visibly blushes a lot notes: i feel like this is my first time writing for shy!reader wth <900 wc | requested

“you’re starin’, babe,”

you’re snapped out of your reverie, gaze clearing out of your daze to look at the man in front of you. your cheeks burn, turning pinkish when a small smirk is thrown your way. “s-sorry! i was just, uh - yeah…” you trail off, deciding not to voice out your thoughts when you realize how weird it’d sound.

your boyfriend raises an eyebrow, skeptical at your deflection but he continues rummaging through his closet in search for a piece of shirt to wear nonetheless, fresh out of the shower after the grueling practice he’s had.

unfortunately for you though, that means he’s only clad in a pair of sweatpants, strutting around in the room with his torso bared for you to ogle at. which also means you have to amass in all the self control inside you and resist from drooling at the sight of all that naked skin.

you failed, obviously.

forcing your gaze down to the book you’re holding, you try to focus back on the printed words to avoid looking his way. suddenly the little bookmark that you’ve put aside on the nightstand appears in your vision, sliding into the space in between the pages before the book is pushed close by a set of fingers.

you look up to see karasu— unfortunately thankfully already dressed— sending you a knowing look, “you’re not even readin’ it,” he points out, making you sheepishly smile as you rest the book on your lap.

‘give it to him to notice even the littlest things,’ you huff at the thought.

he takes a seat beside you on the bed, shoulders brushing each other’s as he rests back against the headboard, throwing you a sideway glance. “ya gonna tell me what’s on your mind, pretty?”

your chin tucks inwards at the nickname out of habit, your teeth absently gnawing at your bottom lip. “you’re gonna laugh at me,” you mutter.

karasu smirks at your reluctance, “try me.”

you take another minute to contemplate before gathering your confidence, turning to sit facing towards him. “can i, uhm…” your fingers shyly fidget with themselves, eyes seeming to find the loose thread on the blankets more interesting than ever. “can i wear your jersey…?”

your voice is so small, so timid that karasu almost couldn’t catch what you’re saying. a flash of confusion crosses his face and he sits up to face you properly, about to reply when you abruptly burst out in a flurry of stutters.

“i-i mean…!” you squeak, “like, i-it’s completely fine if i can’t! i know you always give it to me during your games but - uh, y-you know! i also wanna wear it at home or to bed o-or like—“ his growing smile and glimmering eyes short circuit your brain.

heat creeps up your neck, your face flushing red as your voice dies out of embarrassment. if it were possible, there would’ve been puffs of steam coming out of your ears from how hot your body is becoming.

seemingly unable to control yourself anymore, you let yourself comically slump onto his chest to hide from his view. karasu reaches a hand towards your cheek, uttering out your name in a gentle call.

he does a second try when you don’t budge, sensing the amusement in his tone. you shake your head petulantly against him. “you’re laughing at me,” you grumble.

“what? ‘am not, promise!” the chuckle he’s been holding in seeps out through his breath. “are so,” you counter quietly.

you’re internally praying for your body temperature to go down fast, but his next set of words deems it impossible for it to do so.

“you’re so cute like this, ya know that?” karasu sighs, and your heartbeat quickens a tad bit.

“are you not going to give me an answer?” you mumble, still leaning into his space as you feel him playing with the little strands of your hair, the air around you becoming still yet comfortable.

“and here i thought giving you my jersey during my games already means full custody over it,” he muses. “why would i let ya hold on to it for as long as ya did if it’s not to wear it anytime ya want, dummy?”

another rush of embarrassment washes over you as you think over his explanation. “…you’ll never let me live this down, will you?” you groan.

karasu laughs, hearty and fond. “nah, you look too pretty all red like that for me to stop,” he drawls before grabbing your face in his hands, holding you in place when you make another attempt to hide your blush, overwhelmed at how close and attractive and good-looking and cocky and sexy—

you give yourself a mental slap on the face.

he drinks in your scrunched expression, the warmth from your flushed cheeks flows to his skin as he gives you another lopsided grin. “aw, did i fluster ya that much?” he teases.

“s-shut up.”

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[theesteppenwolf]

More Lucanis rambles because I’m still thinking about it and got nothing better to do :P

I am not here to tell anyone how to feel but putting words into peoples mouths who criticize the Lucanis romance (or Lucanis in general) for being unsatisfactory by saying;

“You don’t know what a slow burn is/ it’s because you expected zevran / you don’t get it he’s traumatized/ you just wanted something spicy and didn’t get it so now you’re mad” etc.

Is completely disregarding the fact that his lack of reactions and lack of content actually led people to believe he is bugged. Most DA fans didn’t expect spice or steam or whatever but they did expect an effective story, one they didn’t get.

This is at the end of the day a visual storytelling medium and implication will only get you so far, if i have to start thinking up entire plotlines in my head to make sense of the story or relationship progression then they failed at good storytelling. If i have to write paragraphs of explanations that the game doesn’t even remotely touch on then that isn’t a slow burn, it’s just a lack of content and poor pacing.

If he is traumatized and reluctant because of it you have to give me a scene where i can actually read that. If he is awkward and doesn’t know how to react to flirting you have to exaggerate to an extent for people to tell. If there is longing and angst give me banter that reflects it.

A romance in a game should give me some kind of deeper personal insight into a character and if i have to do the writers job and in my head think up those insights then the actual romance is mostly moot. I’m not saying give me all the details i’m saying at the very least give me a jumping point, some info buried in the game i won’t get otherwise. His romance fails at this.

Mary Kirby was fired yes and it’s awful what happened but unfortunately the product still remains and it leaves a lot to be desired for a big amount of people. When players are straight up going back on saves to romance someone else it’s a real problem. For me, it soured my first playthrough, especially later when i saw how Davrin and Emmrich had content, convos, specific romance outings and at the bare minimum actually had a noticeable reaction to flirting dialogue.

Again I’m not telling anyone how to feel, if it works for you that’s awesome, but to disregard his obvious lack of content by calling other fans basically stupid is incredibly disingenuous.

I love his character, loved it since The Wigmakers Job and he is still my favorite after my first playthrough. I think the beginning of his romance was very promising and the end is great but everything else is missing I’m sorry. His romance was not well executed and i honestly don’t think his character really was either. (But i won’t vent about that right now)

I know what a slow burn is, i was not expecting Zevran, i did not want a steamy romance. I wanted a well executed story and i didn’t get one. I am critical because i think it could’ve been great, i still love the game and i am not shitting on it, his character or other fans i just hate wasted potential.

[henneseyhoe]

Right Where I Want You.

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Rough sex (Nothing too serious, she just chokes him a lil), Dirty talk, DOM!reader, SUB!Terry, Mommy kink (yeah you heard me, we get real nasty over here..), PWP, Short!, Not completely proof read.

SUMMARY: nah. lol

✮✮✮✮

the sound of clapping could be heard from the next room over even with the door closed. They both made no moves to quiet down either, the squeaky springs of the bed only applauded her on her bouncing, giving her the praises she needed for taking a dick this size. The stretch was delicious, the girth making her feel stuffed, and the length reaching places so deep that she could barely sit down all the way.

But how she rode was already enough for Terry, she didn’t have to sit all the way. He was already so gone. The way Terry was moaning her name with curses following, you’d think that was the only english he knew.

Her heels dug into the bed beneath them, the sensation of the soft silks against his bare skin heightening his pleasure. He had begged her just minutes before to use him, fuck him into his own bed and leave him wondering why you hadn’t come along sooner, why he didn’t come find you instead. He didn’t care if it was pathetic, there was some things he could live with happily without embarrassment. There was just something about you that could make a man kneel at your feet, cry, even.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She asks before moaning, her head lulling back for a second as she felt the tip of him brush over exactly where she wanted him the most. Her voice was so tantalizing, laced with a sweetheart tone and dominance as she knew she could take away what he needed the most in this moment; a tight pussy gripping his dick and a nut that would send him to another dimension. She knew damn well he was doing more than enjoying himself.

His abs tightened under his brown skin and he cried out, opting to hold onto the headboard instead of her hips to avoid her stopping like she did last time he touched her without permission.

“Fuck, baby!”

His hips bucked wildly as the sensitivity of him became almost unbearable. He hadn’t even came yet, multiple orgasms purposely ruined being the reason for the constant tightness in his balls and stomach. She, on the other hand, had already came three times. On his fingers, on his face, on that dick. Her cream stuck to his shaft and balls, making wet, sticky sounds every time her fat ass bounced back down on him, making him release another spurt of precum into her walls.

Her cream was still warm, used as lube to help her ride that thick dick efficiently enough to have him seeing stars.

And stars he did indeed see, the glasses perched on his nose providing no help with vision as he clenched his eyes closed.

“You boutta cum for me, baby? You know better to ask mommy first”

She runs her pierced tongue over her lips and begins rubbing her poor little clit with her dominant hand, ignoring the indescribable pain from sensitivity that also somehow brought her pleasure. She used her other hand to slowly wrap itself around Terry’s throat, squeezing slightly to bring him out his euphoric daze.

Once he had opened his eyes, he got to admire her again, eyes flickering from her pretty face to the urging hand between her thighs.

She went even harder on him, staring into his piercing eyes with a clear desire to break him just in case any other bitch thought she could do what she does to him. No one else could have him, a grown man, begging to be fucked, on his knees with his face in her lap.

“You like when I fuck you like this. You like when I use you” She guides him into a nod, a satisfied smile on her face as he agrees.

“Yes- fuck!”

“Mhmm. You love this pussy don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I love this pussy, mommy”

His words sent her into overdrive. That was the first time he had ever compiled and called her the self given pet name. She knew he was right where she wanted him now. There was nothing he wouldn’t say or do for her.

“Cum inside me, baby. Fill mommy up”

✮✮✮✮

💌- ngl this was just sumn sweet for the fuckin kids till december 🥴 did NOT mean for it to be like dis!

[fruithoughts]

‎‎‎ㅤㅤHow to catch a hufflepuff?

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjeonghan x fem!reader  

01.ㅤۗㅤ𝙼ember .  ⎯⎯⎯  jeonghan.

02.ㅤۗㅤ𝙲𝚆 .  ⎯⎯⎯ one sided beef, he tries to a dick but he's too in love lol what a loser, MANY PET NAMES(pretty girl, doll, puppy...), reader is a muggle, smut at very end, smut with plot, rough sex.

September, 1 

— Are you still not over yourself? — A new year at Hogwarts begins, and just like that, Yoon Jeonghan it’s back to his favorite hobby of tormenting his favorite girl.

— Hogwarts should get over itself! It’s insane that we still have to write with quills — the Hufflepuff answers, obviously frustrated and with a good reason to be so, it’s 2024 and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it’s still stuck on writing with quills? In individual papers? This fact alone it’s crazier than most spells they’ve ever teached.

— You say it as if the muggle option is much better — he lies straight through his teeth, knowing damn well that pens are, with no doubt, much easier to use than quills. Jeonghan is Jeonghan, don’t take him too seriously or you might actually punch him in the face. Much like he expected, his false observation is pointed out by the girl sitting right alongside him in this train stall almost immediately after it leaves his mouth, the Slytherin has always had too much fun bothering the school’s sweetest girl who just so happened to be cursed with world’s biggest puppy eyes.

It wasn’t friendly like this back then, though. No, not even close.

These two despised each other with a burning passion, well, Jeonghan did; for the far majority of this nemesis thing, the hate was very much one-sided. Coming from an insanely racist family definitely rubbed off on him and when his academic life expectations were ruined by the fact that the entire school seemed completely in love and constantly in awe of that stupid muggle girl, he decided right there to make her life a living hell. 

Which he succeeded in doing, kind of. Her life was surely miserable when around him but she didn’t seem to care about their relationship as soon as she was with her friends, housemates, just anyone at all, Jeonghan felt invisible at times, and it infuriated him to no end. Last year was the worst era for sure. The bitterness had been going on for so long, they were both exhausted and having to work together on an astronomy assignment was the last straw, so out of nothing but pure rage; they settled on an alliance for long enough to finish that thing. But it didn’t end there, of course it didn’t, they continued talking even after the assignment, they weren't friends then, absolutely not, but they started interacting like normal students for once, asking for notes, doing small talk every little in a while.

Their push and pull habits never truly died, but it wasn’t out of hate now, they were clearly having fun with this whole enemies till death tell us apart game. So much fun in fact, Jeonghan spent his entire break missing their banter like he was going crazy. It didn’t even cross his mind that he would think about that girl after the year ended, but oh, boy, did he do it.

 Maybe that was the reason they were going together in the same train stall for the first time in all of these years they’ve known each other, maybe Jeonghan lied and his friend’s stall isn’t full like he said it was, maybe he just missed his shiny eyed sweet girl, maybe.

September, 12 

— Do you have any interests other than being the center of attention? — she asks, it’s a fair question. The walk in between classes always brings out the worst out of everyone, huh? — I like pissing you off sometimes — Jeonghan answered.

Watching that cute little face transform into an annoyed and tired one never fails to make the Slytherin feel a rush of pride, he just adores it, he just adores her — Can you answer seriously at least once? Instead of being a lil bitch? Perhaps? It’s that too difficult for you? — she said imitating the tone he usually used to brother her, school’s sweetest girl being a bully, who would’ve thought. 

— Woah, woah, woah, I've been nothing but condescending and mean to you and this is how you treat me? — Jeonghan grabs his chest dramatically, his expression telling any bypassers that this man has never, in his entire life , felt as offended as he’s feeling right now — Come on now, puppy, it’s this a way you should treat a dear friend?

There it is, the classic Jeonghan urge to frustrate his pretty girl for no reason at all.

— Keep talking and I'll poison your food — the Slytherin chuckled at the threat — You wouldn’t be able to even if you tried, you’re not allowed in herbology class without the presence of a teacher — he pointed out without missing a beat — How do you still remember that? — she asks incredulously. I was made for you, of course I remember, the bastard thought to himself.

Like always, Jeonghan regretted coming to class the very second the professor opened his mouth, choosing to busy himself with going through his girl’s notes instead. They were mostly doodles or borderline intelligible for him, her handwriting was neat but her logic? Questionable, to say the least. But he loved reading whatever she wrote anyways, getting a little too happy whenever he found anything evolving his name or a silly doodle of his face. Once every twenty or so minutes he’d get distracted by her side profile instead, this was the only class where they sat together, so he shamelessly stared at her every time. For just a second, she looked back and smiled, as warm as the sun. He felt strange, he felt like a child again, liking her felt rather lovely, but did she like him too? 

October, 18 

It’s a tradition at this point, students of all houses gathering together in secret to play quidditch in their pajamas every friday night. Organization is barely existent, rules? Optional. This whole thing is a mess, it really is one of the worlds most confusing mysteries on how the teachers haven't found out about this yet(They have, but they pretend they haven’t because it’s the only time all students get fairly along with each other)

Mingyu begging Seungkwan to be the judge just off the chance that possibly, on a day where Kwan felt extremely nice, he could cut him some slack(it has never happened). Watching them from a far was arguably nicer, Jeonghan thought; sitting isolated from all of the other students with his trusty Hufflepuff by his side, both sat there in comfortable silence, this one was new for them.

— What bad music have you been listening to these days, ugly thing? — he inquires, as nice and cordial as always — Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy? — she answered staring daggers into his face, oh, if only Yoon Jeonghan was as unbothered and cool as he pretends to be, maybe then he could stop the way his heart pathetically races at the sound of her voice. 

— I always wanna know what’s going on up that little head, it’s usually just air, but sometimes we get lucky, don’t we? — the Hufflepuff rolls her eyes at his statement while the asshole who said it only grins — I could put on some songs I've been listening to, if your highness so desires — she suggests, and Jeonghan isn’t one to say no to his pretty thing. 

It started off with a soft guitar melody, much like most of the songs she listened to.

Depollute me, pretty baby

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream

The girl always had a type for softer sounding things, for gentle things, it made  Jeonghan feel unsure of himself at times. How could the sweetest girl in the school like the company of such a bitter guy?

Oh, dilute me, gentle angel

Water down what I call being grateful

Was it normal? Was this how things should be? What even were they at this point? Acquaintances? Partners in crime? Friends? 

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

The school year had barely started and Jeonghan could swear he was balding from stress since week 2, why is he acting like this? Why is he sitting far from his friends and housemates just to spend “alone time” with the girl he swore he hated less than a year ago?

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

There were many things in this world that the Slytherin would never agree to admit. He refused to believe in just how fast his mind changed from last year. Everything happened too fast and I couldn’t see it coming, that’s why I didn’t stop it; is what the man in question kept telling himself, clearly because is the truth and nothing but the truth, clearly NOT because he could never bring himself to terms with the fact that he has always looked at the “stupid muggle girl” in the very same way he’s looking right now.

You look perfect, you look different

I don't wonder about your indifference

— Spending time with you is giving me brain damage — he speaks up, for no reason other than to listen to the sound of her laughter, which works — Don’t blame me for your psychosis — the hufflepuff answers while giggling.

If I said you could never touch me

You'd come over and say I looked lovely

She yawned and stretched her arms out, arching her back, as graceful as a swan. It’s that feeling again.

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to make me cry

He lies down on the concrete, both hands behind his head.

It was simple, you are sweetness

Let's just sit a while

She lies with him.

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

The night was beautiful, birds flying through the dark sky, he could hear his friends playing quidditch in the distance, his pretty little thing resting her head on his shoulder as they lay on the cold floor and watch the stars. It felt gentle, it felt nice, it felt perfect. He knows they won’t talk about this tomorrow.

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

Friends shouldn’t make each other feel like this.

October, 29

— I’m just saying, it’s a Sunday evening — Jeonghan felt like getting to the point of his argument after rambling for about 20 minutes on end — And? — she inquired, eyes still on her book, which made the Slytherin close his own, he hasn’t read a single word ever since he opened his mouth, just using his habit of reading as another cheap excuse to spend the night in the library with his lovely friend — We could do something else, you know… — he suggested, knowing damn well this isn’t going anywhere, his girl did not play about her poetry books. 

— Like what? — she engaged, also aware of the fact this is a one way street — Literally anything else, maybe have dinner somewhere — he slouched against the hardwood chair — Dinner? The thing that killed Jesus? — her answer received nothing but a very judgmental look from a very judgmental Jeonghan who didn’t stay quiet about his discontent for long, like always — You’re such a disaster — he says averting his gaze to anywhere else so she couldn’t clock the painfully obvious heart eyes he was giving her.

— Why do you spend so much time here anyways? — after about 32 seconds of nice and peaceful silence, he asked again — Reading is fun, even if it’s reading about being a loser — the Hufflepuff responded already setting the terrain herself so Jeonghan couldn’t have the pleasure of calling her out on only reading melancholic books.

— We could never live together — the Slytherin states as if it isn’t the only future he could fathom to imagine — What if our books got mixed in the bookshelf? I might have a heart attack. Imagine receiving visits and have them wrongfully assume that I read poetry? I would rather die — anybody from a mile away can tell this man has thought about this very scenario way too much for his own good — And yet you’re the perfect amount of dramatic and pretentious to be a poet yourself — every once in a while he would notice that she talked like a book, he hated it, it was better when she talked like an chronically online alien who’s only life mission is to make sure he has at least one bad day a week.

Jeonghan, ever the most mature student of Hogwarts, sticked his tongue out in his friend’s direction, which was answered with the exact same action back at him — What are you even reading, ugly? 

— The world’s wife, by Carol Ann Duffy — at the end of that day, after his pretty girl had already left to her dorm, for the first time in history; Yoon Jeonghan rented a book from the library.

November, 1

Looking at her made him feel all sorts of things, even from across the room. From an overwhelming sense of warmth just by watching his little flower engage in silly conversations with her friends after she’s done writing down notes to erratic heartbeats and goosebumps when she catches him staring and tilts her head, looking at him just like a confused puppy while mouthing “why are you staring?”. She made him feel all sorts of feelings he wishes he didn’t fall victim to, all sorts of fantasies he wished he didn’t understand, but Jeonghan was no saint, especially when it came to his little angel. 

There were only two things in his mind today, which was an improvement in comparison to yesterday when there was only one, i’ll let you guess what it was, but right now there were two; 1. The argument with Josh, and 2. Her.

Jeonghan isn’t one to hold grudges against those he loves the most, as a trickster himself; he isn’t used to taking things personally, but Joshua… Joshua had gone too far. Just when the Slytherin was ready to finally pour his heart out to somebody who he deeply trusted and loved and open up about his feelings, he was met with the most terrible response! It just wouldn’t leave his head…

— She’s perfect for me, everything about her is perfect, I think about her all of the time and it’s messing me up — Jeonghan pathetically went on and on for what could’ve been anywhere from 30 min to 2 hours, poor boy was just so confused about the simplest of feelings — And the obvious conclusion to take away from this situation is…? — his Gryffindor friend tried helping — She’s ruining my life — and it didn’t work — You’re in love, you stupid idiot — so Josh decided to be a little more direct. He was right, like always, but that didn’t stop Jeonghan from sulking the whole entire night. 

It was infuriating, what even happened to him? All it took was a pair of shining eyes and sweet smile and he’s completely done for? It’s not like the guy in question ever was the kind of student who engaged in class or was interested in anything the teachers had to say at all, but this is another level, it annoyed him to no end. That stupid girl just held his mind and all of his thoughts in her hands as if it was nothing, that stupid girl with her stupid unique personality and her stupid hauntinly beautiful face and her stupid cute outfits and the stupid boy who could not take her out of his stupid brain. 

He left a letter at her desk after class, she would only find it the next morning while he was two classes away from being interrogated about said letter. 

November, 15

Hogsmeade was full to the brim, but somehow, this moment felt very intimate. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in their systems, maybe it was the casual way they didn’t even consider sitting with their housemates before claiming the little table by the window just for themselves, maybe it was the way they were both sitting while leaning completely forward, chins resting on their arms, faces just a few inches away while yapping away the end of exams season, it felt childish, it felt nice, it felt sweet. 

— You don’t think I'm manly? — Jeonghan questioned as if this was about to become his villain origin story — You’re manly… Just in a peacock kinda of way — she answered giggling like there was no tomorrow, he loved everything going on here. Her flushed little face decorated with a big grin, her nose crunching up everytime she smiled, her voice slightly louder and whinier because of the alcohol, the slurred way her words came out sometimes, it was all perfect.

— Can I tell you something, puppy? — he whispers, knowing he isn’t anywhere near drunk enough to not remember this tomorrow, he doesn’t really care — There’s nothing in this place that I adore more than you.

He watched in awe as her eyes grew so much bigger, lips forming a little pout of shock, that specific cartoonish surprised look she always had when anything happens while she’sdrunk, looking both sides before leaning in and going “Really?” which is immediately followed by a little giggle.

In moments like this the Slytherin swears there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have his girl all to himself, nobody else deserves this view. Isn’t all of this desire so ugly? Isn’t all this wanting so gross? Isn’t it all his? Just the thought of leaving Hogwarts and never seeing his pretty little thing again was enough to give him a full body shiver followed by an ever so present nauseous feeling.

 — If I have to remember you for longer than I've known you, I might lose my mind a little — Jeonghan mindlessly admitted, a sly smile slowly makes its way in his friend’s face — Don’t you think you already lost it? — she asks.

— Maybe a little.

December, 24

— Won’t your friends be worried? Do they know or did not even tell them? — Jeonghan questions while trying to look at everything everywhere all at once. It was his first time spending Christmas night in the muggle realm, he wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was — Why wouldn’t I tell them we’re going out? — the Hufflepuff answers his question with a question — As far as I remember they were very defensive about you becoming friends with big, bad Jeonghan, have they moved on from that? — his question only got him a smack on the arm.

— They haven’t cared about that for a while now, and you interrupted me! Again! — she stated before angrily letting go of his hand, which she had been holding so they wouldn’t go far from each other and get lost, yeah… that was definitely the only reason — My sincere apologies, your highness — not taking her attitude for granted, the Slytherin quickly holds her cold hand into his own much bigger one, it was ironic in a way, the Hufflepuff who’s body is always cold and the Slytherin who’s body is always warm — Now I don’t wanna talk anymore — apparently, she didn’t accept his apology, but didn’t let go of his hand either. 

Jeonghan wasn’t sure if it was his sick mind making him hear things, but he could swear that as time went on, the sweetest girl in Hogwarts had become more and more of a brat, just for him tho. Maybe he was a bad influence. 

— Go on, keep talking about the anime girl with the blue hair, I'm listening — did he understand most of what she was talking about? No. But she was happy to share her thoughts about Hatsune Miku’s new song, so really, who was he to say no? For all Jeonghan cares she could break his brain in two, it was only ever hers to mess with anyways.

Walking through the local christmas market was much more pleasant then the pureblood snob would ever imagine or admit, but she could tell that he was having a great time, and that was enough for both of them. Jeonghan has always had a terrible case of resting bitch face, so she really couldn't give less of her mind to anybody who stared at them weirdly, the Slytherin himself barely even noticed, too focused on this cozy new place.

They ate good food, took pictures with her digital camera, petted some strays here and there, it was a perfect evening. And just when they thought things couldn’t get any better…

— Come on, it’s not that deep — the bastard insisted while dragging his pretty thing along his arm to some bar’s doorstep, there was a mistletoe there — Is it not that deep or do you just want to kiss me? — the Hufflepuff teased, her flushed face betraying the casual tone she spoke in.

Finally at the bar, they stood there. Jeonghan, with that infuriating little grin in his stupidly beautiful face, looking down at his friend who had her arms crossed in front of her chest the second they arrived, looking back at him with the an annoyed expression and an angry little pout that forced him to resist, with all of his might, to the overwhelming urge to melt directly to the floor.

— That’s for me to know, — he said pulling his doll into his arms, a hand going up to her face to make sure no stubborn hairs got in the way of the moment — And for you to wonder.

Much to Jeonghan’s surprise, maybe he really wasn’t the manly one in this relationship after all. Because when the Hufflepuff straight up yanked him by the collar of his jacket to meet his lips, he could swear that he was made to be manhandled by a pretty girl. Ever the profissional, he relaxed into their kiss almost immediately, holding the back of her head firmly in his hands so he could take some control.

It was just as good as he imagined it would be, pillowy lips massaging his own, his puppy just so pliantly allowing his tongue to explore, it was sugar sweet and addicting. 

Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was a blessing, the girl wasn’t exactly sure while she was getting dragged around for the entire two and a half they spent going around in the christmas market. The sly prick just couldn’t control himself, whenever he saw a mistletoe, it was time. Jeonghan was so obvious, he started actually tricking her into thinking he was just interested in places. He would look around, engage in conversation with the sellers, get some nice food then the second they were about to leave, he would just pull her towards a certain spot, his girl already giggling and whining about getting tricked again. These two lost count of how many mistletoes they used to their advantage in just some hours, but at last, it was time to go. 

Surprisingly, Jeonghan wasn’t really nervous about spending the night in his friend’s apartment, they have gotten extremely close after all. The thing bothering him was something else. 

He wore some white t-shirt and fluffy pajama pants she found somewhere in the depths of her closet, probably due to a friend forgetting them. She was wearing a leopard print shirt and some black fluffy shorts, he loved the way she dressed much more than he could handle, it was too cute for him to handle. Their pajamas were the comfiest things they’ve ever worn in each other’s presence, you can only be so casual in School.  

After whining about who got to choose what they watch before sleeping, they settled in any Netflix cliche christmas movie because of how often she made fun of the scripts in those movies, and she was right, they could’ve played a cliche movie bingo and checked all of the places before the movie hit the 40 minute mark. 

Of course the film in question was nothing more than some background sound to their yapping session, what else could it be? Their conversations just flowed so easily, each topic and scenario just slipping through their fingers, eventually they got to the best part, talking about the people they both hate. At first it was the usual; “How long do you think that friend group is going to last?” and “Do you think that couple is going to get back together?” then it eventually turned into; “Do you think your friend group will last a long time?” and “How long do you think it will take before we miss our professors?” and…

— What are you gonna do after Hogwarts? — the Hufflepuff asks innocently, causing a mental turmoil to burst in Jeonghan’s head. He snaps before even thinking, and it’s probably for the best.

— What are we gonna be after Hogwarts? — the air caught in her throat was almost visible, the way her breathing got heavy, the way her eyes seemed to wander even though she didn’t break eye contact, this was a difficult conversation to have. After this they’ll either come out of this apartment as partners or as strangers, it was a tough pill to swallow. 

— We don’t ever talk about it, we don’t ever dare bring it up but we both know what’s going on, don’t we? The year is ending, flower — he had that look in his eyes, that look he had at hogsmeade, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but there it was again. Jeonghan had never looked so soft, in some oversized t-shirt and fluffy zebra print pajama pants she would never witness him wearing in any other situation, his hair as soft as ever, strands romantically sitting in front of his face as he reaches a hand to hold her cheek, the most gentle touch.

— I know we started this just messing around, we’ve been messing around since last year and it felt nice, it was fun, it was new and becoming closer was so rewarding that we just couldn’t stop it — he recalls the beginning of their alliance — But it’s not so light anymore, is it, dear? The tension became too much, I know you think about me too, I know you feel me it too — he spoke his heart out, voice as soft as the look in his eyes, all of the words that have been drowning him for the past few months were finally bubbling to the surface — I wanna stop it, we played around and it was fun but I need something solid now, I need to know where we go after this is over — he kept going, his eyebrows furrowing as his breathing got more erratic. 

— We don’t have all of the time in the world so I need you to be honest with me right now — Jeonghan leaned in, he could almost see all of her thoughts and emotions right on those shiny eyes he fell in love with all those years ago, in all of this time; his sweet girl had never changed, but unknowingly, she changed him. 

— Do you want me too? — the Slytherin asks.

A rushed “i need you too” was the last thing he could process before the Hufflepuff was yanking his face into a heated kiss, hugging his neck so she could sit on his lap, Jeonghan was in heaven. 

His pretty girl softly pulling his hair to make him gasp into her mouth, his hands trying to be everywhere before he settled on holding her hips to keep her from moving too much. His sweet girl was a little too desperate for his taste. Why were her panties completely soaked and sticking to her core when he finally dipped his hand into her shorts? Was she getting hot and bothered the entire night and just taking it instead of asking for his help? — Own, did I leave my baby waiting for too long? My poor lil thing… — the motherfucker spoke up as condescending as always, only causing her to whine as he teasingly cupped her warmth through the moist underwear — Don’t worry, puppy. You know I’ll make it up to you — and “make up” he did.

As soon as the bastard found her bedroom, it was game on. At this point they’re unsure of how much time have gone by, one arm holding her waist firmly in place on her plush bed while the other held one of her legs up so he could have more access to the little pussy he spent so long dreaming about, he needed to eat his girlfriend out properly, let her know he’s the one for her, that no one would do it better than him, even if his efforts make his jaw hurt like crazy the next morning.

Jeonghan was having the time of his life, hearing her soft voice turning into a higher pitch whenever she whined about him teasing for too long, that she was ready to take him. And of course, being as annoying as ever, he couldn’t let the humiliation be just that, no, he made her repeat it every time — What was that, doll? — he looks up as if her sweet moans interrupted his holy feast, his chin soaked with her juices, his lips glistening with her honey, this view could kill — I need you, Jeongie… — she finally had the strength to answer, making the devil grin. 

He had no intentions of stopping, no, he needed that little cunt on his face until he suffocated. The bastard kept going after the first, the second and for a miracle, the third orgasm was his last straw, and even though he could devour his stupid girl right there… — My pretty baby did so well for me, didn’t she? — he gave her a much deserved break before getting down to finish their business. 

It felt as though there was nothing else in the world, nothing other than them. Passionate slow kisses, arms cradling one another as their hands caressed each other’s bodies, this moment could last all of eternity and neither culprit would complain, not even once. Feeling his hard on pressing against her thighs was driving the Hufflepuff a little bit insane, tucking on his waistband made her mouth feel awfully empty.

The Slytherin didn’t even remember that being hard was so damn painful, a soft touch of her hands on his crotch was enough to make him hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together, the sight was pretty enough to make one cry, he’s was just such a beautiful boy, how could she not want to have him in her mouth? — Please, please, pleas-

— You don’t have to — he tried shushing her, not wanting his baby to do any work — Want to… Wanna make you feel good, Jeongie… — that whiny tone made his knees buckle quickly, mind racing far too fast for him to stop himself before just sitting back on his knees and letting his pretty girl have her way with him.

For someone who was in full control just fifteen minutes ago, Jeonghan surely sounded like a bitch in heat. Biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood but letting go before it happens so he can moan like a whore just before the pleasure becomes too much and causes him to throw his head back, looking at his girl was too much to ask from him, everything was too much. Looking just so pretty trying her hardest to fit his thick base into her mouth, not paying any mind to all of the gagging, working so hard to please her Hannie, he could bust just from this fact alone, the man was losing it. 

His appreciation for her hard work did not go unappreciated for long, not when he got his doll on all fours for him, shoulders pressing down on the mattress while he pounded that pussy into another dimension not even ten minutes after getting the head of his life. The squeaking of the bed, the sound of skin slapping, the begging for more whenever he grabbed her hair roughly and used it as a leash to pull her body into his, his chest pressing against her back while he praised his pretty thing for being “such a good puppy for him, taking all of his cum”, only for the moans to go louder when he slammed her face back into the bed, the soft squelchy sound coming from where their bodies kissed, the music in this room was Jeonghan’s favorite. 

These two were wild animals for a long time, their muscles would most definitely feel their efforts tomorrow, but right now, after having the best orgasms of their lives, the lovebirds were in absolute peace, staying in the bed for much longer than expected after sex; just holding each other, just loving each other. After a nice shower, a change of sheets and some instant ramen, tho? Ready to go to sleep, if anything; desperate to go to sleep. Jeonghan felt a slight shift on the bed alongside him, he could feel his preciosity leaving his grasp just before he succumbed to the tiredness of his bones, he reluctantly opened his eyes; she’s on her phone? 

— Did I fuck you so good that you’re writing poetry? — he asks, it’s a fair question — Shut up, Slytherin — the Hufflepuff answers just before hitting send message into her groupchat, telling her friends everything they could possibly need to know about the past two hours or so with just 11 words.

[mochie85]

Have Mercy

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You're a powered being with healing abilities and you try to bring Loki back from the brink of death. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1832 Warnings: Fluff, heavy kissing, slapping, mentions of death (close call), injury, a very flirty Loki,

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you all started the ambush. Tall sequoias canopied above blocking the setting sun. The air was thick with smoke and heavy from the fighting. You heard multiple teammates calling for healing, but none was louder than Thor. His troubled voice blasted through the comms, “Medic! We need a healer quickly!” His deep command tore you away from the battle you were in and you fought your way over to him. “Priestess, please! Come quick!”

Through fire and volley, you found Thor kneeling on the ground with Loki in his arms. Lifeless. Steve was circling them, trying to shield the brothers from a barrage of attacks.

You knelt on the ground. Your knees hit soft mud as your eyes scanned Loki’s body. His sharp face was paler than usual. Blue-ish tint had started to stain his lips. And your naïve-self hoped it was just because of the cold seeping from the wet ground. “Thor, I’ll take it from here. Go help Steve. I can’t worry about my life when I have to worry about his!”

Thor nodded to you. But before he laid Loki down, he whispered in his ear, “I know you are stronger than this, brother. But I swear on Yggdrasil if you are pretending, I will not hesitate to cleave Stormbreaker into you.” Thor sniffed and placed him down to the ground.

You nodded your head and patted Thor’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” you feigned, as you tried to get a better look at what had happened. You didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that you could feel how thin and fragile Loki’s life string was. A hair, compared to the cord that we all have. Worse, the thick rope that the Asgardian’s life used to be. You didn’t even know if you were skilled enough to weave it stronger.

There was a large gaping hole that tore Loki’s chest plate. His skin had burned and was raw from the impact. You couldn’t see any entry wounds. Nor blood. But the bruising and dent on his chest was not a good sign. A stray missile, perhaps? Maybe jumping in the way to save his brother. They vex each other constantly. But deep down they care for each other like most siblings do.

You straddled his body, holding your two hands out, placing them over his wound. A soft resonance emitted from your palm down to his skin. You kept your hands on him as the pulse of your powers worked their way through his body. You can see tiny mends of his scrapes and scratches. The raw skin around the wound had returned to their usual pallor.  He’s reacting at least. There’s still some life in him- whatever little is left.

You persisted. With every pulse, you can see his wounds healing. Ribs cracking back into place. The blue on his lips retreated ever so slowly. But his lifeline was stubborn. If you could hold out just long enough, his own regenerative powers might kick in.

Grasping at straws, your mind quickly raced with ideas to help speed the process along. You remembered that sometimes, shock was a good way of knocking someone back into the land of the living. “Ugh, don’t get mad at me, okay? I’m only trying to save your life,” you vowed out loud in case he was able to hear you. You quickly pulled your palm back and slapped Loki hard across his cheek.

Small capillaries burst where your hand met his face. Aside from the new hue, Loki had remained the same. Still and quiet. His line fading from your grasp. You panicked at your failed attempt.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how to tell Thor that you couldn’t save his only brother. Ideas and thoughts ran past your mind all muddled and incoherent. Ways and spells. Teachings and theories you’ve learned on healing and regeneration.

You cupped Loki’s cheek, healing the bruise you had left. Your brows knit together, puzzled as to what to do next. Hopeless in feeling and thought. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see Thor’s face and have to tell him an awful truth. They had just reunited this past year. It wasn’t fair. And it would be all your fault because you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Loki. Your heart turned solemn as angry tears threatened to drop from your eyes.

By now the fighting had stopped. You didn’t realize how quiet the world had gotten around you. How still the air was from flying projectiles or weapons. The team gathered loosely. Giving you space to try and save Loki’s life, but the look on their faces betrayed the faith they were trying to offer you.

Your thumb brushed Loki’s cheek, wiping away the mud that speckled his face. He would’ve been appalled if he knew where Thor had left him on the ground. You smirked at the thought as your thumb rested on his chin and traced his lips.

His cold lips opened slightly at your touch, and you were struck with an idea.  You grabbed both sides of his leather collars and brought him to sit up towards you. His slack weight was heavier than you anticipated, and it took your remaining strength to sit him upright. You closed your eyes as your lips crashed into his, honing your powers into that desperate kiss.

You had never done this before. You had never needed to do this before. But you were hoping that your breath of life could pass onto him and carry him through till his own powers could take over. You sucked hard on his upper lip, not wanting to break any contact. Your fingers entwined themselves in his hair, desperate to keep him close to you. “Please. Please. Please,” you whispered into his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on his cheek. Your arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to accept the truth.

Still, you continued.

You felt a low rumble from his chest. A hopeful sign that it’s working. You just needed to hold on a little bit longer! You opened your lips for a breath of your own. And when you closed your mouth around his, your power pulsated in between you.

You felt his temperature return first. The warmth in his lips, the heat in his breath. You could feel his lifeline winding itself tighter and stronger.

His mouth returned your kiss. Sluggish and tentative. But they held on to your lips, tightly. His hands embraced your hips so delicately you didn’t even know they were there. You naturally leaned into the kiss more. Your power still pulsing through you. One last intake of breath and you passed it along towards Loki.

His grip tightened around you and he pulled you closer onto his lap. His arms snaked around you, holding your head close to his, unwilling to let you go.  You could hear small groans and heavy panting. But you honestly didn’t know whether it came from you or from Loki.

His tongue touched your lips, asking for entry. Catching your breath you opened your mouth once again and Loki gainfully ran his tongue inside against the roof of your mouth.

You didn’t realize that your powers had finished. With nothing left to heal, your powers subsided. But you were so lost in the kiss that you had forgotten where you were and what you were doing. Slowly, you pulled away. But Loki’s kiss followed you unwilling to release you. You bit his bottom lip as a warning, holding his face in between your hands.

“Darling, what an indecent way to ask me out,” Loki grinned from ear to ear. His voice was rough and garbled. He kept his face close to yours, running his nose against your cheek. “I accept!”

The world came crashing back around you. The time. The place. The situation. The shock froze you in place just staring into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “I always thought you harbored affections for me. But now I am certain,” he taunted.

You slapped him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to do. You felt betrayed somehow. Tricked. Even though you knew that he was genuinely in peril. The fact that he was joking about it even now, irked you.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as he slowly turned his head to face you again. His chin jutted out, trying to contain the smirk that was coming forth. “Is that how you like it?”

You tried to push yourself off of him. You’ve had enough of his antics. You were utterly embarrassed at being caught in this situation. Especially with the team around, surely watching.

He caught your wrists as you pushed on his chest, stopping you. “Do it again,” he commanded. His grin was out in full force now. Dazzling you to the last inch of your nerve.

“Ugh, the thanks I get for saving your life!” pushing him down as you stood yourself up. “Next time I’ll just leave you limp in the mud.” You sneered, walking away with your head held high and your face heated and red. From humiliation or from desire, you didn’t know.

“Well, that’s very hard to do when you’re kissing me like that, my angel,” Loki yelled after you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you angry and flustered. All because of him. Oh, I’m in trouble.

“What do I gotta do to get a kiss like that?” Bucky asked teasingly as you stomped passed him.

“Die!” you growled back at him. The words felt mean as they left your mouth. And you regretted saying them instantly. He was only trying to lighten the situation. But you couldn’t help the shame you had inside you.

“Oh, c’mon doll. I was only teasing.” Bucky raised his arms in defeat and followed you back to the quinjet, laughing.

“Loki!” Thor scolded as he held his hand to his brother, helping him up. “I hope that you were not deceiving us just to try and gain favor with the priestess. I know you’ve been seeking her affections.”

“Brother! I am genuinely hurt! Did you not see me lying there at the last inch of my life?” Loki contended, pointing to the ground where he once laid.

Thor rolled his eyes but smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He was glad to have his brother back once again. “She’s very talented that one. And I do not want to see her get hurt, Lo-. Loki are you listening to me.”

Loki was at a loss for words, watching you. “She gave me my life back, brother. I have felt her lips against mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel them again soon.” Loki smiled as he swatted away Thor’s hand on him. His eyes solely on you, plotting how to get you to kiss him again.

A/N: I know it's been awhile. I do plan on finishing my series' soon. Thanks for staying with me. Life has been hard and you guys get me through it.

🏷️ @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish @capswife @dangertoozmanykids101 @shadycloudcollection @annoyingsweetsstranger @alyeskathewave @xxjust-a-kidxx @tallseaweed @liliacdreamer @stevihj +more in the comments

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I don’t know why I’m equating stiles to penguins and crows but stiles gives really pretty and super shiny rocks to his favourite people.

Maybe it stemmed from collecting rocks with his mother — “See, Stiles there are stars in the sea”— because they both loved looking at stars together so now they can carry stars around with them. (Stiles buried his best rock with his mother)

Stiles only clued into his feeling about Derek after the third time he had given him a rock.

The first time had been the day after Derek had killed Peter. Stiles knew what it was like to bury a family member. It took him nearly the whole day to find the perfect rock, or else he would have given it over sooner. Stiles awkwardly dropped it in his open palm stammering out broken sentences — “I like rocks- me and my mom - when she - it’s a good rock” — Derek looked very confused and frustrated. (He was thinking about the collection of rocks he had seen on stiles bookshelf when he was a fugitive.)

Stiles tried to defend his rock choice while also trying to explain why he gave it to Derek. It made for a very uncomfortable 4 minutes. Stiles gave up and just told Derek he could keep the rock or throw it away or fucking bury it with Peter. That he wouldn’t care what Derek did with the rock (lie). And with that he stormed away.

Unbeknownst to him, Derek heard the lie and kept the rock. He wasn’t going to at first, and had tried to just drop the rock but his hand wouldn’t uncurl from around the stone. Derek had generally understood that stiles had been trying to comfort him, and this rock was his confusing way of doing that.

He only truly understood after seeing the headstones that read Claudia Stilinski when going to deliver flowers to his families grave.

It was the first piece of kindness he had received since Laura died. So he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

—————

The second time stiles had brought Derek a rock was a week after holding Derek up in the swimming pool. Stiles had tried going down to the lake the day after swimming pool but couldn’t bring himself close to the edge. He had cried for hours after, scared that he’d never be able to get back in the water again. He wouldn’t be able to look for rocks and pretend his mother was still with him. Pretend that she was the one sending him the stars in the “sea”.

So after a week of going back to the lake and trying, he had succeeded in getting about knees deep. While celebrating Stiles stepped on a rock. Well two rocks. He had finished them out of the lake after he was done cursing. Loving how cool the rocks looked he went to make his way home. he had planned on giving the second less shiner rock to Scott so they could match. But he saw Derek on his way home and felt compelled to give it to him instead.

Still wet from the lake stiles walked up to Derek and asked him to hold out his palm. There was far less hesitance, glaring, and arguing than the first time stiles had demanded that.

Without even realizing it, Stiles had given Derek the rock he was going to keep. He was going to ask for it back and switch out the rocks but the look on Derek’s face stopped him. He looked more open and relaxed than stiles had even seen him, more vulnerable. There was a look of wonder in Derek eyes, as he fiddled with the stone.

Stiles no longer cared that about having the less shiny stone. In fact he was completely okay with not having it. When Derek realized stiles was staring with his mouth totally not open, he went right back to a closed expression. Words immediately begin spilling out of stiles mouth, without his permission.

—“ I couldn’t get in the water, after… - the lake, it’s … It’s a good rock, super shiny and it’s got a smooth texture. It’s kinda red like your eyes.” —

He even flipped his own hand and showed Derek his rock. “We’re matching, kinda. Well we were the only two in the water that night” He trailed off again before reiterating that Derek could just throw out the rock but Derek thanks him in the middle.

Derek walks him out of the preserve towards his car and reminded Stiles to be careful as there was still a kanima and argents on the lose.

——

The third time Stiles give Derek a rock is the night of his kidnapping. And technically Erica and Boyd’s. It was also the night he fully joined the hale pack, by protecting Boyd and Erica from hunters. The night he thought he was going to die.

Instead of leaving Erica and Boyd tied up, the hunter dragged them to the woods. They were planning on having a proper hunt. It was only by sheer luck that the three of them got away. Well that and the fact that the hunter were stupid enough to underestimate very desperate and pissed off Stiles. The fact that he had grown up in beacon hills and the hunter hadn’t was an added bonus.

During the fight stiles had tripped and and caught a stone in his hand. He was still holding it when he slammed his jeep through a wall. He only gave it to Derek after everyone else passed out for the night.

Stiles was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair in the train deport. However, that wasn’t enough to stop him from getting lost in his head. Vaguely watching as the rest of the pack slept in a pile. Stiles only came back to himself after Derek sat down beside him. The warmth of the werewolf’s arm around his shoulder allowed him to release the tension his body.

Stiles curled into Derek as sobs shook his body, not caring at pretending to be okay at the current moment. Derek only held him tighter, nearly pulling stiles into his lap.

When stiles had calmed down he grabbed one of Derek’s hand and gave him the rock. He heard a hum of confusion, one that prompted a sudden laugher.

“I thought I was going to die tonight.”

At his confession, Derek went still. Stiles stumbled through explaining what had happened that night. Derek just held him through it. He felt a little insecure when he finished. Over both the story and the ugly rock.

Derek just dropped his face into the crook of stiles neck and breathed out a thank you and that was that.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Stiles didn’t feel need to move. Moreover he didn’t want to. Which was a revelation in of itself. He would pay more attention to the maybe crush in morning, for now he was safe to sleep.

A few weeks later after everything calmed down and the pack is having a movie night, he give a rock to each member if the pack. Derek leaves the room for a second before returning. Later on that evening he goes to grab his sweater from Dereks room. He sees his three little rocks, now four. He absolutely falls in love with Derek in that moment. He didn’t know that Derek kept any of this rocks, but seeing the proof made him really happy.

Lydia makes a joke about stiles being a penguin. Stiles squawked in offense, of both himself and penguins. Claiming that giving rocks as a way of courting someone is perfectly valid. But that he wasn’t a penguin so it doesn’t count. She just gives him a knowing look.

This is what finally clues Derek in. His wolf already knew and was laughing at him.

Derek had wanted to give stiles back a rock when he confessed to him or on their first date or something romantic. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. Instead it happened after an exhausting fight with a troll. Stiles had stormed up to Derek about to lay into him for his self sacrificing tendencies. Derek thought stiles still looked like the most beautiful thing he had even seen. Even covered in gore.

So he plucked one of stiles waving hands out of the air and gave him the stone that had been in his pocket for far to long.

Like a switch of their roles, Stiles stared at the rock in quiet awe for a minute, while Derek stood insecure. Stiles let out a small giggle, quite happily whispered “he got me a rock, you got me a rock!!” And preceded to haul Derek by the shirt and kiss him.

Stiles goes around excitedly telling everyone that derek gave him a rock. He also used it in an argument with dad over their relationship.

They exchanged rocks and well as rings in their wedding. One of their wedding cake toppers were penguins.

Now that I’ve finished writing this all out I’m realizing that this could also be a creature stiles au.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | November 4th-10th 2024

I think we can all agree that last week was a bit of a rollercoaster? 🙃 At least we still have our emotional support gay firefighter show ❤️

(as always, if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!)

Complete

Good Luck Babe by jesuisici33/ @jesuisici33 (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda | 1K | Teen): Buck nods. His own face still has that kicked puppy look. But he manages a smile. Even sad, Buck’s smiles light his face up. Eddie thinks he could never get tired of Buck’s smiles. “Why did you shave it off? I need a distraction. A happy one.” “I’m working on no longer denying myself fruit juice.” It’s Buck’s turn to open and close his mouth in confusion. “O…kay? I don’t know what that means.”

watch you win, watch you cry by wenttoafortuneteller (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1K | Teen): Buck lets out a long, tired sigh and admits: “Tommy broke up with me.” “Oh,” Eddie says. He makes a conscious effort not to smile.

your shoulders brush (no proof, one touch) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1K | General): “It’s not funny,” Buck whines. “I just thought– we have– were having a good time together. And he’s been so great through the whole figuring myself out, he made me feel so, um, so secure in my sexuality, you know?” “Well, you’re not any less bisexual if you’re not dating him,” Eddie shrugs. “So I guess he didn’t feel the same way, then?” “Kind of?” Buck turns on the couch and pulls one of his legs up. His knee nudges Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie is suddenly very aware that he’s not wearing pants.

ode to a conversation by markofalover/ @markofalover (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Getting Together 3K | Explicit): “He was right to break it off, because—Josh asked if I thought about him when he wasn’t around, and if his concerns and happiness were important to me, if I saw a future, and, Eddie, I—” “Buck,” Eddie cuts through again, and this time Buck listens. Closes his mouth and stares at him with big blue eyes, and Eddie. Eddie’s heart is in his mouth. It’s right in front of him. “Come here.”

It’s Always Been You by scarmaddiewrites (S8, Getting Together, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie travel to Texas to pick up Chris and run into some issues, all leading to them finally getting together.

ode to joy by signetsealed/ @gayeddieagenda (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, PWP | 3K | Explicit): “Okay,” Buck says. "Let's do that.” Eddie frowns. “Do what? Dance?” “Sure,” Buck says. “That, or whatever else you were thinking of doing. We can…be joyful.”

i must confess, i’m in love with my own sins by inbetweenthestacks/ @organizedstardust (S8E6: Confessions Spec | 3K | Teen): “I just want it to be easy, you know? I don’t want to have to think about if I’m acting the right way or saying the right thing. I just want to have a-a person. I want someone that wants to stand next to me. I want to know someone is always gonna pick me, no matter what, they’ll have my back. Like how it is with—“ he stops short. Buck, he almost says. Like how it is with Buck. — Eddie goes to confession and has a few revelations.

lock me down tonight by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (PWP, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): Buck grabs the bathroom door, but freezes before he can open it more than an inch. Because Eddie is in the shower, but he’s not crying. Eddie is standing with one arm braced against the tiled wall, turned away from the door. The shower spray cascades over his muscled back and the curve of his ass. His other hand is wrapped around his cock.

"What the fuck, make your move." by dylaesthetics (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, PWP | 4K | Explicit): When Buck smashes their mouths together, Eddie forgets how to breathe. Then, he isn’t all that interested in basic human necessities such as that. He thinks, at the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy of needs instead lie Kissing Buck, Making Buck moan, and Trying not to come in my briefs. ~ OR Eddie is Buck's last.

Thankful for You by scarmaddiewrites (S8, BT Break-Up, Pre-Buddie): The one where Buck plans Thanksgiving dinner at his place and then breaks up with his boyfriend.

Take The Bitter With The Sweet by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Ravi POV, Gettign Together | 5K | Teen): No one thought to brief Ravi on the Buckley-Diaz situation when he finally joins the 118. Spoiler, it goes about as well as a car crash.

first and last by hispolestar (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda | 6K | Explicit): And suddenly, like Eddie summoned him, Buck is standing in front of his door. Eddie’s not sure if this indicates that God is real, because He saw Eddie’s quest for joy, or if it’s just Evan Buckley. It’s probably the latter.

The Only Truth by phdmama/ @phdmama (Magic AU, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Eddie says, “I fucking hate you.” At least, that’s what Eddie intends to say, because he means it, in that moment he absolutely means it, having just watched Buck rappel four stories down a burning building and hit the ground eight seconds ahead of the roof caving in. What comes out instead is, “I fucking love you.” Luckily, just as he had opened his mouth, the roof had, in fact, collapsed, which caused a lot of commotion and noise and whatnot, and Eddie’s words, his very strange and unintended words, get lost in the mayhem. Huh, Eddie thinks as his body moves on autopilot, racing across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. That was weird.

a night in early october by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S5, Getting Together | 6K | Mature): Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.

sweet talk with a hint of sin by justhockey (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Getting Together, PWP | 7K | Explicit): He doesn’t want to stop; he doesn’t even want to slow down. He wants this, here, for the rest of his life. And he’s past wondering if he deserves it, past thinking he isn’t good enough for a man like Buck, past being scared of the love that lives inside of him. He wants Buck selfishly, wants him greedily, and if he’s willing to give himself over to Eddie, then Eddie isn’t a selfless enough man to say no. He isn’t strong enough to deny himself such joy. “Need you,” Eddie begs. “Please, Buck. Please.”

said that i was fine, said it from my coffin by justhockey (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Buck leans in so close that Eddie can feel his breath on his cheek when he asks, “Hey, are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m fine,” Eddie lies. And it doesn’t matter that he feels like he’s dying. Like the version of himself that he’s always been is suddenly a stranger to him - just a mask he’d spent his entire life hiding behind, without ever even realising he was wearing it. It doesn’t matter that Eddie is…that he’s gay. Because he knows - as surely as he knows that the sun will rise again tomorrow - that the only person he has ever, and will ever, truly love is Buck. And Buck isn’t his to love.

don’t mention any other name (that doesn’t sound like mine) by bandshirts (Post-S7, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): Or, Eddie flirts with a man at a gay bar. Buck is totally normal about it. (Spoiler: he’s not.)

so only say my name (it will be held against you) by bandshirts (Post-7x04, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Or, Buck accidentally says Eddie’s name during sex, figures out some things about himself, and finally gets the right guy this time.

WIP

wicked dreams by hispolestar (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 3/9 | 14K | Explicit): Eddie’s trouble starts with a dream. Well, it actually starts much earlier, when he runs into a woman who is the literal carbon copy of his dead wife. Or, alternatively it starts with a lightning bolt. Or a sniper. Or a firetruck. Or a car crash. Or, realistically, a grenade embedded in a seventh-grade teacher’s leg. It starts with blue eyes, broad shoulders and a tenacity that shocks Eddie to his very core. But right now, Eddie’s trouble starts with a dream. ~ Eddie, alone and confused, is navigating Christopher's extended stay in Texas, while also grappling with feelings he's been repressing for seven years. Buck, who misses Chris dearly, is struggling under Gerrard and his boyfriend's dismissive attitude. In the wreckage of their lives, they find each other.

I guess your mama didn't know the gift she got when she got you by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 5/? | 10K | Teen): "He has someone else he can go to," Eddie said automatically, Buck's smiling face flashing into his mind. "Your friend Buck doesn't count," she said dismissively, and Eddie felt his hackles rising defensively. "I'm talking about a partner, Eddie. Someone who will commit to being with you and Christopher for the rest of your lives." "Buck is committed," Eddie said before he could think about what he was saying. "He's not going anywhere." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "When you say committed…" she asked hesitantly, voice trailing off. - Tired of his mom's nagging, Eddie tells a lie that spirals wildly out of control.

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 7/? | 44K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

& such by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (81K | Teen): prompts and spec fics and codas and all the works jumbled mumbled into one place.

Chapter 20: GAY EDDIE REAL (1K)

Podfic

🔥[podfic] a night in early october by half_bakedboy/ @half-bakedboy // fic by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S5, Getting Together | 30-45min | Mature): Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.

Re-read

woke up the girl who looked just like you, i almost said your name by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz (S5, Out Eddie, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): Or, five times Eddie dates a guy a little too similar to Buck, and one time he dates the real deal.

[maybefae]

Blessings Coming In!

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: The Empress, Ten of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Knight of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles, Four of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Hanged Man and Three of Wands

Oracle: Seeds (New Ideas, hope, open-mindedness), Oak Tree (power, courage, strength)

You’re getting your mojo back! You could be getting over some heartbreak, probably losing a couple of friends or a relationship. Or you had finally cut off people that weren’t healthy for you. I see this heartbreak happening before this reading and you come to this reading in the process of figuring things out. That’s not to say that you don’t go through moments of grief though. I see you working your abundance, things that fill up your cup. This takes many forms. But I do see you also taking small steps in getting a business or project started and out into the public and I do see this growing faster than you expected! The love and work you put into it will pay off and your doubts will be soothed over from the response you get. 

For the people who are trying to get back out there to find friendships/a partner, I see you taking a very lighthearted approach. You aren’t putting your full heart into them just yet but you are being open, friendly, and slow-burning the progression. You’re feeling very sure of yourself, trusting yourself, and finding the courage (even if it’s a little nerve-wracking) to open up your heart again to new connections. These people could be completely different from who you’re used to connecting with, types of people that you could’ve always wanted to connect with.

For those dating around, I see two different people. One is very grounded, maybe even slow-moving, and you are probably not sure if they even have feelings for you or if they are emotionally available. But I think they have high standards and are as cautious (albeit open-minded) as you are. The other likes what they see, and they are probably very cheeky and knows how to talk to you. Very cunning. May have really intense eyes, “bedroom eyes.” I don’t see these two getting far with you since you’re being selective but I think you will have fun talking to them. You are keeping your options open. And since you’re the Empress, you could be looking for someone to fit the Emperor role (any gender). 

Pile 2

Tarot: Nine of Cups, King of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Page of Wands, The Devil, Three of Pentacles, Four of Swords (Reversed), The Tower, The Star, Queen of Swords, Six of Wands

Oracle: Bee (Community, cooperation, sweetness), Autumn (Bounty, balance), Snow (Rest, contemplation)

Before I even pull cards, The Artist card that solely belongs to this deck was shown to me and I head “As an artist myself, I know they can be a little flighty. Head in the clouds.” But I also thought of David Bowie? Some of you could be really successful when it comes to selling your art. And I’m talking gallery level prices in the thousands of dollars. But I suppose this can be applied to any career field. “Six months time.”

Now that I’ve pulled your cards, I can confirm the previous message of money and/or success when it comes to your career coming in. I think this is coming after some burnout, which could be a bad habit of yours that reoccurs. This burnout probably left you uninspired and you could get inspiration back. Easier said than done, but please rest. You can’t do the things you love without rest. There could’ve been a big setback before that left you hopeless and burnt out. But you could be having a moment where it reignites the spark for you and that could feel like the biggest blessing since nothing seems as dull anymore.

I feel like your blessing has everything to do with abundance. Happiness, a resurgence of hope (maybe you get validation that you’re on the right track), and money from something you created from all your love and hard work. 

So, for those wanting a connection (platonic or romantic), I do see that someone could be coming in very out of the blue. I had to pull an extra card and it came out while I was looking away while shuffling. You won’t see this person coming. This could be platonic (friend or work partner) or romantic.

Pile 3

Tarot: Queen of Cups, Nine of Cups, The Sun, The World, King of Cups, The Hermit, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, Page of Wands, Five of Cups, The Moon

Oracle: Rain (cleansing, purification, hydration), Sickle (focus, regrowth, letting go), Mushroom (recycling, breaking down problems)

I haven’t pulled cards yet but I am using a deck I haven’t used in a while. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got a whiff of glue.

And now that I pulled the cards, the glue is about uniting. This pile is for the people in long-distance friendships/relationships. After so many tries to finally see them, something always went wrong and you had to cancel plans. This could also be an issue about not having enough money at the time. 

The stars had to align, the moon had to be at a certain lunation…You finally get the chance to see your loved one that’s at a distance! Your wish for that is coming true. In a way, you had to kinda “give up” on the plans and now you are being gifted the opportunities since you weren’t focusing on it heavy. It’s like you had to take care of other things before you could make it happen. 

I’m being advised to tell you not to control it too much! Don’t have a tight grip on plans. Continue to go with the flow and enjoy the present with this person. You will have an amazing time together!

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Modern Witch Tarot Deck by Lisa Sterle, The Green Witch Oracle by Arin Murphy-Hiscock and Sara Richard

Dividers: @inklore