#I hope you all have a wonderful day!! xo

[ghoulishhx]

I was thinking about this last night, imagine like tipsy reader comes home from a night out whatever. her and frank had weird tension for as long as they've known eachother, but they're close enough to where he can come over whenever he needs. she walks in to find him sat beaten up and bloody on her couch, and frank is aghast as he's never really seen her in anything like what she's wearing(possibly some pretty dress, whatever fits the vibes the best) maybe a sweet lil moment or more happens🤭

sorry if this seems like blabbering, i tried to make is cohesive😭

this request is just toooo CUTE. and noo don't worry about blabbering, i understood completely and i hope i delivered for you!!

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Neighbour!Frank x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: fluff, a LOT of it, mutual pining, tipsy reader, injured frank, making out and sexual themes so MDNI please thank you, sweetheart frank, written with plus size reader in mind!, praise

Wordcount: 2k

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✦ friday i'm in love

You and your neighbour Frank have gotten into a routine, one you’ve come to adore and hold close to your heart. 

He comes over, you patch him up no questions asked, you feed him a home cooked meal and he helps where he can, fixing your appliances and building furniture for example. You truly love his presence, he grounds you from all the nonsense you go through when you’re not with him, always lending you an ear for your vents, offering advice (also offering to “sort out” the pricks at work giving you trouble.). There’s never really a moment you two are not together, the only things coming between you being your day jobs. You wouldn’t change this for the world.

It’s Friday night, and Frank is obviously beat up. Patrol on a Friday night was always a lot, compared to the rest of the weekdays. Drunk men causing havoc, committing crimes heavily under the influence always made the weekends more work for Frank. 

Tonight was just like any other night, as he stumbles home late at night, bloodied and bruised. He doesn't think twice before letting himself into your apartment with the spare key you gifted him. Entering your home, he notices the lack of lights. Strange, he thought to himself, you’re a night owl and never sleep before 2am. He’s always greeted by you rushing to the door to give him a hug, ushering him into the warmth of your abode. The lack of your greeting rings alarm bells through his head, and he doesn’t hesitate, reaching to his belt to pull out his sidearm, mind racing with thoughts that you were in danger. Flickering on his torch, he silently paces through the open planned room, his eyes gaze to the table where he finds a note.

“Gone out with some friends Frankie, I’ll be home about midnight. Dinner and beer are in the fridge xo”

His shoulders instantly drop, tension washing away as his eyes scan over the note, his breathing settles knowing you were okay and you were gonna be home soon. He moves to your fridge, finding tupperware with leftovers from your dinner you had presumably before you left, next to an ice cold beer, Frank’s favourite. He practically groans at the sight, wondering what he did in his past lives to deserve you here and now. Within a flash, he’s converted the food to a bowl, slammed that sucker in the microwave as he cracks open his beer. He is so comfortable existing within your space, your home feeling like his even when you’re not there. It pains him knowing he will have to leave tonight, just like it does every night. If he could have it his way, you would be by his side 24/7, holding you while you slept soundly in his arms, kissing the top of your head as he plays with your hair…

The click of the front door’s lock being turned pulls him from his thoughts of you, his breath hitches in his throat as he catches a glimpse at you. Fuck do you look gorgeous. Your hair is loosely curled, having dropped throughout the night of dancing and drinking. The dress you’re wearing has Frank in a chokehold. He’s convinced you would look stunning in nothing but a trash bag, but there’s something about the way the soft silk of your dress hugging your curves just right, accentuating the dips in your hips and the plush skin of your stomach (something you were really self conscious about before leaving your house tonight, but it's one of Frank’s favourite things about you.”, he can’t help but stare at your chest like a teenage boy. You had no idea how perfect you looked, no idea about the effect you were having on your neighbour.

“My eyes are up here, Frankie.” you giggle, slurring your words as you stumble into the room.

Frank can’t help but look away, sensing the blush creep up his neck due to you clocking him. You continue to giggle to yourself as you toss your purse onto the console cabinet next to the door, peeling your heels off and cursing at the blisters already beginning to form. The action of taking your shoes off causes you to tumble, however Frank manages to catch you in time, wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, preventing you from falling on your ass.

“Mmm my hero.” you whisper in his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck, placing a hard kiss to the side of his face. He breathes in your smell, your vanilla perfume invades his nose, his favourite smell in the world, with a hint of liquor.

“Are you drunk, sweetheart?” he asks softly, such an obvious question but he couldn’t help from ask it.

“Maybee..” you laugh, grabbing his head with your hands and angling him to look at you. Your face twists with confusion as you notice all of the cuts and scrapes littered across his face.

“Frankie, you’re hurt. Why didn’t you say when I came in?”

“It’s not that bad darlin’, don't’ worry ‘m fine.” he says with his gruff tone, looking you dead in your eyes, the colour completely covered by your dilated pupils.

“Shush, c’mon let's get you cleared up.” you raise to your feet, smoothening your dress and reaching your hand out to help him up. Seeing him injured sobered you up a lot, however he raises an eyebrow at you, as if to say are you sure you’re not too drunk.

“Don’t give me that grumpy look Frankie, I’m not that drunk, just a little tipsy. I won’t stab you, swear.” you’re still holding his hand, the realisation makes you drop it instantly as you turn away to avoid showing him how flustered you were from such a simple touch.

“Ya better not doll, not lettin’ ya get rid of me that easily.” he chuckles darkly as he looks you up and down, making his way to the bathroom and pulling out the fold up chair you keep in there for this very situation. You join him in the cool tiled room, but before you did anything you had to take your makeup off, it had been on too long and it was borderline overstimulating. You pull your makeup remover wipes from the cabinet under the sink, pulling one out as you wipe it across your face, smearing makeup everywhere as you clean yourself.

Frank watched in awe as you did such a simple mundane task in front of him, surprised at how aroused he was just from watching you wipe your face. He can’t take your eyes off you, you were addicting. Frank would happily watch you do anything, being as enthralled with you as he was.

“What are you looking at Frank?” you question, feeling his eyes stare holes into the side of your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful sweetheart.” he whispers, surprised at his own admission. He was too transfixed on your movements to stop himself from thinking before he spoke. You giggle brings him back to earth as he clears his throat, as if to pass it off as a cough.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you softly speak, turning to fully face him now, makeup pretty much fully removed as you lean on the counter. Your eyes meet and the air in the room feels much thicker than before, electricity coursing through the space as you look intently into one another’s eyes. 

“Think? I know darlin’, most damn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he mumbles, wetting his lips with his tongue as he takes your form in for the millionth time tonight.

Your breathing intensifies, your stomach flips from his compliment. You had secretly been harbouring feelings for your neighbour for a while, but never believed they were/could be reciprocated. You put the used wipe down, as you saunter over him and climb into his lap, wrapping your legs over his thighs. His hands shoot to your waist to keep you stable.

“Well I think you’re beautiful Frank.”

“Tsk, ya dunno what you’re sayin’ sweet girl, if you were sober you’d feel different.” he grumbles, a sly smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. Not once do his eyes move from your face, taking in every freckle, bump and ridge, the plumpness of your lips swooning him.

“I’m pretty much sobered up now Frank, stop worrying.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ve thought you were beautiful for a while, y’know..”

“Likewise angel.. You dunno what ya do t’me.” he whispers, his breath catches your face due to only being mere inches apart now, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity up your spine.

“Can I kiss you, pretty girl?”

“Please.”

He doesn’t wait a second longer, placing his lips upon your softer ones. The kiss begins tentatively, slow and explorative, but it’s not long before it grows hungrier, more desperate. Your mixed pent up emotions for one another finally escaping inside of each other’s mouths.

You wrap your fingers up in his hair, tugging slightly as his lips leave yours and land on your neck, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, eliciting moans from you.

“Fuck babydoll, I’ve waited too long to have you like this..” he mumbles into your neck, the vibrations of his words sending arousal straight to your panties. 

“Need you.. Need you so bad Frankie.. Please touch me..” you beg, peppering kisses along the top of his head as you grind yourself down onto his rock hard bulge. He can’t help but buck his hips into yours.

“Eager aren’t we?” he teases, whispering in your ear. “As much as I wanna take ya up on that doll, wanna make sure you’ll fully remember our first time.” you go to argue this but he stops you “I know you’re pretty much sober baby, but I want it to be special for ya.. That okay with you?” you sigh in defeat, nodding your head. “Attagirl.” he places another kiss on your lips as he grabs the flesh of your ass, making you gasp as he grins, knowing damn well how much he’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes as you climb off of him, reaching under the sink to grab your first aid kit, having completely neglected the sole purpose of why you were both in the cramped en-suite bathroom. Patching Frank up takes no time at all, only minor injuries tonight that a good wipe with antiseptic and a bandage could fix. The entire time you were working on him, his hands never left your hips, rubbing comforting circles around the curve. 

“All done Frankie.” you lean down and kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you babygirl, I’ll get out ya hair, let ya relax after your night out alright?” he stands from his seat, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“Stay.” you mumble into his chest, breathing him in, basking in the closeness.

“Please?” you tilt your head up to him, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your best puppy dog eyes to further convince him.

“Course I will doll, anythin’ for ya.” he kisses the top of your head, as you pull away and lead him out of the bathroom to your bedroom. You don’t bother making him turn around as you unsheath yourself from your dress, allowing the fabric to pool at your feet. Frank uses as much self control he can muster to not take you then and there, remembering his words he told you earlier on about waiting for the right time. He shudders a deep breath as he removes his shirt and jeans too, watching you climb into bed and hold out your arms for him to join you, and that he does.

He climbs beside you and pulls you snug into his chest, spooning you. Your eyelids begin to fall heavy, being completely at peace in his grasp. You hum appreciatively, after fantasizing about this moment for months now you finally have it, you finally have him.

“Sleep well sweet girl, I’ll be here in the mornin’, promise.” he whispers in your hair, as you mumble an incoherent response, drifting off to sleep. It’s not long until he joins you, feeling just as at ease tucked up in bed with you as you feel. 

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a/n: i know the gif is raunchy as shit, but i had to use it because #smash

my inbox is open!

[juletheghoul]

educational

a/n: I still have so many asks for this man, and I have not forgotten them! Thank you to everyone who voted, to everyone who takes the time to comment and reblog on my posts. You have no idea how you all have reinvigorated my love for writing, a million hugs and cuddles for all of you. I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! This isn't beta'd, barely proofread. Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

The sun was oppressive. It beat down with a vengeance and the fan in your hand did nothing to alleviate the waves of heat permeating the market. You had half a mind to head right back to the villa, to ask Marcus to bring you on another day when you could focus on anything other than the drops of sweat sliding down your spine, making your new robes stick to your skin. Or the way the stiff leather sandals on your feet rubbed your ankles raw. 

Running back to the villa didn’t seem right however, it tasted too much of defeat, of a refusal to accept your new place in this world and the thought of your General, your husband being disappointed in your inability to shop for yourself put eels into your belly. Gritting your teeth, you continued your hunt for the things you needed. 

“What about this Domina?” Your new attendant, a girl a few years younger than you had been when you’d first joined his house pointed at a blessedly covered stall, golden trinkets glittering where the sun poked through gaps in the covering catching your eye. 

“Let us look.” You smiled, making your way over. There you found a lovely perfumed oil for your skin, at a fairly reasonable price. You also found some of the incense Marcus liked, and a new brush for his hair. You bought them, even though he had sent you with the intent to buy things for yourself. With your purchases made and in the hands of your guards you decided to finally return home, when another stall caught your eye. Gauzy sheer linens covered most of it but when the warm breeze blew them aside, glittering jewels flashed. 

The woman running the stall smiled when you entered, she had streaks of grey in her hair, lovely oiled skin and eyes as dark as night. 

Opals with fire caught inside them hung on golden racks, rubies the size of walnuts, emeralds as green as fresh laurel leaves glittered, all of them entrancing you enough to pull your hands out to touch them. 

“With your skin, those would look lovely.” She walked over, pulling dark blue sapphire earrings from their place on her wall and holding them to your ears. “Beautiful.”

“They are gorgeous, I must admit.” Marcus had told you to buy whatever you wanted, had given you enough coin to splurge but you hesitated. Your eyes fell to a small book on a shelf, a picture of a man and a woman on the cover. 

“That is… very educational. Especially for a married woman.” She pulled the book off the shelf, placing it into your hands for you to peruse. The contents made you gasp. It was a guide book, a guide for the art of love. The art of copulation. There were diagrams, positions to try, all manner of things you’d never even thought of. 

Heat rushed to your face, the thought of showing Marcus, of trying them with him made the heat grow and spread to the place between your thighs. 

“You must have it, I have no doubt your husband will enjoy it, you as well.” She winked and you laughed a nervous little laugh, nodding conspiratorially. 

“You should adorn yourself for him, something glittering, something precious.” She gestured to the jewels once more and you bit your lip, wondering what to choose until you saw what looked to be a belt of different coloured gems. 

“I like this–is it for my waist?” You slid your fingers across it. 

“That would be perfect, not just your waist my lady.” She undid the clasps and arranged it, draping it onto your body. “Usually the ladies wear them over a simple robe to elevate it, but I think it would look just as beautiful against the skin, if you take my meaning.” You could see it, the top part of it like a necklace, with a long line of gems between your breasts leading down to connect with another line of it like a belt. 

With an ache for him, and a considerably lighter purse, you left with your purchases and made your way home once more. 

-

He was occupied, held up in his study with representatives from the Emperor, a senator and a whole host of others taking up his time with important matters. You left him to it, and busied yourself with your own preparations.

The tub was steaming and fragrant when you submerged yourself. Dried flowers and sweet smelling oils swirling with every movement, all manner of different elements coming together to soften your skin and make you shine for him. Thoughts of what he would think of your book fill your mind as you cleanse yourself of the day, musings about what he might choose pull at the corners of your lips as you run the clean washcloth across the expanse of your chest and thighs.

You oil your skin once out of the tub, arrange your hair and adorn yourself with jewels. Golden bracelets and anklets he’d gifted you on your wedding night, an armband shaped like a snake, earrings that dangle and trap the light when you move, the special body chain from the stand. You feel like a goddess, like a priestess readying yourself for worship. 

By the time he comes to bed the need, the arousal is fierce enough to make your hands shake. 

“Apologies my love, I was hoping to have been done sooner but—“ he catches sight of you then, sprawled out on the bed, an airy robe leaving nothing to the imagination, the small book in your hands. His eyes devour you, robbing him of his words, making your heart race.

“I have something for you, something for us.” You rise, exaggerating the swing in your hips with every step you take towards him. Your adornments jingle, a pleasant sound rings with every stride. 

“Do you now?” He licks his lips, and presses his palm to his growing bulge at the sight of you. “I have something for you too, growing stiff and aching.” His hand reaches for you as you get closer, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I do not doubt that.” You laugh, pressing your palms to his chest to keep him from pushing you onto your bed.

“I would very much like to give it to you, nice and deep.” His eyes are so lust blown that the warm brown is now a cold black. A moan escapes at his words, at the feel of his kiss on your throat.

“First, I would like you to look through the book I bought today.” He frowns, confused at the apparent shift. “I believe it could be very educational for us.”

If you weren’t so aroused, so excited to experiment you might have laughed at his expression. Naked shock was all you could see on his face. Never, in all your years within the villa, within his presence had you ever rendered him speechless before. The effect is titillating.

Wordlessly he peruses the pages, cheeks flushing, attention rapt at the diagrams and instructions shown within.

“Gods above.” Your smile deepens at the low whisper of his voice, nerves fraying with anticipation. 

“I am particularly curious about this one.” With trembling hands, you flip the pages to a certain diagram, where the woman is sitting on the man's lap but facing away, her legs closed tightly between his legs underneath her. The thought of Marcus having you that way floods your body with heat. His mouth at your ear, his hands free to slip between your legs or hold onto the weight of your breasts. 

Silently he studies the book, eyes intent. His quiet intensity fills the air between you, it makes you wring your hands with nervous anticipation, almost makes you wonder if you’ve gone too far. Your nerves fray the longer he stares, the old fear of disappointing or upsetting him creeps up your spine, until he smiles and licks his lip. 

“You, my love, continue to surprise me.” He closes the book and sets it aside. 

“Do I?” You take his hand in yours, and press it to your lips, desperate for his approval and for his love.

“Oh yes. Just when I think I cannot be any more fortunate, you spoil me and show me another facet of your love.” He pulls you forward, guiding you to stand between his spread legs at the edge of your bed, pulling the robe off to expose your nakedness.

“Look at you.” His palms slide from the sides of your thighs past your hips where they touch the jewels that adorn your waist. Up, up, up until his thumbs flick at your nipples. 

“You are yourself, my most precious jewel. So beautiful–” He presses his face to your breast, his lips gliding across your skin between words, “-kind, adventurous and brave, sweet as summer fruit,” he skims his nose over the top of your breast before licking at the stiff peak. With a sigh you hold him close, fingernails scratching at his neck, slipping through the fine grey waves, cradling his head close. 

Your heart races as he pours his love onto you, any and all fears are quieted to nothing under the silky slip of his palms against your back. His mouth forms a tight seal around your nipple, enough that it makes you gasp. His smile is predatory, confident and it makes you laugh; half nervous, half exhilarated. 

Your breasts shine with the oil, and his spit when he lets go. You take the opportunity to pull his robes up and off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his manhood, hard and leaking for you. 

“Turn around.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, deep and commanding, irrefutable. His lips press to your shoulder, moving down to your lower back, you squeal in shock and delight to feel his teeth on the meat of your ass. 

“I could devour you whole, do you know that?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

The arousal is enough to choke you, enough to ease the glide of himself against your sex. Butterflies swarm as he pulls you back, guiding his own weeping tip to the tight fist of your cunt until you sink, slowly onto him. You gasp at just how deep, just how full you feel like this. 

“Gods above, woman.” His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, his voice strangled in your ear.

It is so much better than you had imagined.

His thighs bracket yours as you adjust to the fullness, slick dribbles out of you and drenches his lap when his hands do exactly as you hoped they might. With deft fingers he pinches and pulls at your sensitive nipples, teasing the peaks mercilessly as you begin a tentative bounce on his lap.

“Is this how you wanted it?” His breath tickles your neck, painting your skin in gooseflesh. 

“Yes, yes Marcus, just like this-“ your head falls back onto his shoulder, the arousal so fierce it burns through you, sets your heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird, trapped in the cage of your ribs. 

“Take it, take your pleasure from me my love, ride this cock—“ he bucks up, pulling a pained moan from somewhere inside you. 

“That’s it, you can do it, milk my fucking cock.” His arm tightens around your middle and you can feel the jewels pinching at your skin, the edge of pain only heightens the pleasure coursing through your veins, ripping a swathe through your body in the shape of him, always him. 

Thick fingers force their way between the tight press of your thighs, pinching at your swollen clit and it’s almost too much. Sweat beads in your hairline, slips between your bodies as you roll your hips harder, clenching around him with every tight bounce. 

There are no more words, only the harsh pant of his breath in your ear, the slick, vulgar sound of your wet arousal; the whimpering heralding your climax. 

His fingers leave your clit and you whine, the demand for them to return on the tip of your tongue but he quells it, pressing those same fingers into your mouth. He takes the saliva from your mouth, and returns his fingers to their task. The slip is just right and with a silent scream you freeze, squeezing him tight enough for him to hiss, tight enough to do just as he wanted and milk him for all he’s worth.

His grip around your middle softens, the jewels have left indents in his skin as well as yours, you pull his arm up to press your lips to it. 

Once the blood has settled and you’ve caught your breath, you pull away from him, turning to settle in his lap again only this time facing him. 

His expression is pure bliss, flushed with exertion and smiling with the ghost of his climax still painting his features. 

“I must send you to the market more often, spoil you as you spoil me.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his wrap tightly around your waist.

“So you are pleased with my purchase then?” Your lips press to his mouth, his cheek, the little hairless spot on his chin, your favourite constellation to map out. 

“I am more than pleased with it, but I must study it in depth. So many things to try, so many lessons for us to learn from this book, hmm?” He skims his nose across the column of your throat, smiling into your skin as your heart races for him even with your pleasure still coursing through you. 

“…And you know that I am a quick learner, my love.”

-

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[sweatyracoon]

Can u pls do a story where like Hyunjin/Lee know is touching u during class? (Pls I’m desperate😭😭😭)

Casual Distractions

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I'm so sorry it took so long. Life has been kicking my ass. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: smut, public scenes, social anxiety, threesome? Mxm, bullying, language

You were new to this college, and it didn't help that the language was more than difficult to learn. You were nearly fluent, but knew nothing if the inside jokes or curse words, which was almost everyone your ages' dialogue.

You found it hard to make friends after the transfer, but one person was always kind to you.

His name was Han, and his English was perfect almost. He helped you out in certain course since you shared them, helping you with your pronunciation and all that jazz.

He eventually introduced you to his group of friends that had been together forever. Eight in total.

They were known as Strays. They couldn't be more different from one another. And to top it off, most of them knew English. Two were Australian, and one had lived in America for a short time.

Ironically near you, actually.

All of them were polite to you, but you kept your distance, not trying to force yourself in.

It had been months since you met them all, and it had become routine for you to sit with them in the cafeteria per Felix's request.

You still kept quiet, not confident on your Korean yet.

One day, you and Han were having a study session at your dorm, and got on the topic of crushes.

"If you had to pick between any of my friends, who would you want to fuck you?" He asked randomly, his face blank as if it were the most natural question.

You nearly choked on nothing, staring at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

He looked at you, confused.

"I said, if one of my friends-"

"I know what you said, Han! But why?" You scoffed, jabbing at his shoulder playfully.

He pretended it hurt, sticking his tongue to you.

"Who do you think is hot? That's what I meant, y/n! Gosh," He grinned, watching your ears turn pink.

"What makes you think I like any of them?" You ask, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your textbook.

"Girl. It's a hypothetical question.." His eyes squint at you in silent question, and smile playing on his face.

You pause to think, unsure if you should tell him, knowing he was a blabber mouth. But you could easily say it was hypothetical just as Han did.

"Uhh, maybe....Hyunjin? Or-"

"I knew it! I knew you like him- wait did you just say 'or'?" He paused his prediction, wanting to hear who else you were going to say.

"I was gonna say, or Minho, Han."

You both sat there, looking at one another. He blinked while you shifted uncomfortably, not used to long periods of eye contact.

"Why him? Have either of you even said a word to one another?" He flicked at his pencil, holding it as if he were going to write.

"Not really...he's just gorgeous, you know?" You mutter, turning your attention back to your notebook. You felt judged despite them being friends. It almost seemed as if he were disappointed.

"Your right," you could hear the smile behind his words, making you look back up, returning it brightly.

"To be fair, though, we're all gorgeous, girly," He pitched his voice, flashing his undone nails making you cackle.

He lightened the mood knowing you weren't feeling right with how it was going. It was the main reason he was your best friend. He understood.

You both continued to joke and study, getting ready for the upcoming class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the only class you don't have with Han is the class you have with Hyunjin and Minho, ironically.

Hyunjin always says hello, and Lee Know just nods at you with a smile, but today, neither of them did so.

You looked at them multiple times, noticing how they glanced at you some times. It made you nervous. You wondered if you did something wrong that offended them.

They never sat next to you, but today they seemed farther than usual.

Their shoulders raised higher than they should be, almost making it seem like they were out of breath.

You were about to text Han in question, but the teacher called you out.

"Y/n, please step outside for your phone call seeing as it is more important than class,"

You looked up, seeing everyone's head snap towards you. Your heart stopped, "No, I-" your words got caught in your throat as you cleared it loudly.

You felt your face flush.

Sighing in defeat, you grabbed your belongings and darted out the door, catching the way Lee Know and Hyunjin looked at you with what looked like pity.

You held your head low, sighing loudly when you reached the empty hallway.

You walked towards the girls restroom, stopping before the janitors closet, just hoping for some quiet.

It doesn't last long.

You heard a door snap from behind you, making you jump, turning to see if you were in anyone's way.

But it was just the two boys you had been worried about all day.

"You okay, y/ninnie? We saw you freeze in the back," Hyunjin observed, his hands in his pockets as he stood to your right, Minho on the other.

"Oh! Yeah, M'okay. Just want the world to swallow me right now," you chuckled, your shoulders deflating.

"Don't worry about that asshole, okay? Just giving you a hard time," Minho scoffed, staring at the door leading to his classroom.

"Why are you guys out here, though? He's going over the test on Monday." You wonder, not wanting them to fail because they were worried about you.

"We just wanted to see you," Hyunjin said, making you confused.

"See me? You see me every other day," you reply, tilting your head.

"We just have something on our minds I guess. You are the only person we can talk to about it though," Hyunjin grinned, nudging against Minho, who smiled wickedly next to him.

Your heart dropped.

"A little Birdy may have told us something you said from yesterday," Minho growled, bringing his arm to cage your left to the wall while Hyunjin did the same on the other side. You squeezed, making them chuckle.

"Hans a liar," you whispered, feeling your face warm up.

"Are you sure, baby? Cause we can give you what you want," Hyunjin groaned next to your ear, your body shivering in anticipation.

"I-I-" you stuttered, your breathing suddenly shallow as you try to clear your foggy mind.

"Relax," Minho whispered.

Thats when you heard a door handle turning behind you, the wall disappearing that held you, making you fall. But Hyunjin was behind you in seconds, gently bringing you to the tile floor in the closet, Minho closing and locking the door behind him.

You three had officially now moved out of the public eye, away from any onlookers.

"This okay, Princess?" Minho asks as he kneels next to you, your faces inches away.

You breathe out a shaky yes before he nods, looking at your lips then back to you.

He leans in, locking his lips with yours as he started gentle, quickly becoming more rough but the second.

You moaned into Minho as you felt another pair of hands fondling your clothes breasts.

Hyunjin took his time, not bothering to take of your shirt, hoping you wouldn't look like walking sex by the time they were done with you.

He wanted to feel your nipple between his teeth, but he told himself to wait. That they can have you properly after school.

Minho growled into the kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat as you panted into his mouth.

"Let me have a turn, hyung!" Hyunjin whined as he played with your clothes nubs.

Minho pulled himself off of you, grunting. You didn't like the loss if contact, grabbing at his forearms.

"Finally," Hyunjin chuckled, grabbing the back of your head to pull you into him.

His lips crashed against yours, the rhythm easy to control.

Lee Know took his chance to run his hand up your skirt, fisting the fabric of your underwear before pushing them aside.

He ran his fingers through your slick folds, moaning at the feeling of your excessive wetness.

He shoved his middle finger into your hole, pumping slowly as Hyunjin sucked the air from you.

You were both moaning, the kiss getting sloppier until it was just wet pecks.

"Feel good, baby?" Hyunjin asked as he listened to Minho add another finger, the slickness making a sinful sound in the quiet closet."S'good,"

Your head tilted back, Hyunjin takes his chance to nip at your collar bone, leaving a trail of marks. He tried keeping them close to your neckline, hoping you could hide them.

You grabbed at his hair with a moan, pulling it gently as Minho quickened his pace.

He groaned against your neck, teeth scraping against the purple spots now blossoming on your neck.

They both kept at it until you felt the knot forming in your stomach.

"There!" You plead, Lee Know hitting your g-spot roughly now with three fingers.

"Here, baby?" He teases, now hitting it harder.

You were writhing underneath them as you felt your wife snap, your high washing over you suddenly.

Your body shook from overstimulation, nearly crying as they pushed themselves from you after you came down.

"That felt so good," You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut.

They both smirked at one another.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Minho pushing his wet fingers into Hyunjins mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you.

The sight of them being intimate made your hole clench around nothing.

"Come over after school?" You asked them quietly, and try both nodded.

"we'll make you feel a lot more, I promise," Hyunjin smirked, pecking your lips gently. Minho did the same, helping you up.

All the way to class, you could feel your slick drip down lower on your thigh, making you both embarrassed and aroused as you thought about what they would do to you.

[chiara8104]

i was wondering if u could do lando x reader fluff? maybe one where they've been together for a long time and are going back in time and remembering the day they met, meeting the parents, friends. something like that PLEASE!!!!

New beginnings | ln4

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a/n: this is such an amazing request!! when I saw it, it immediately caught my eye!! I hope you enjoy! Sorry I haven’t been replying to all of ur requests! I have a singing audition and a physics midterm very soon and I’m pretty stressed! I will try my best to get to everyone’s requests! don’t forget requests are always open!! xo chia

summary: lando and y/n take a trip down memory lane.

warnings: fluff, swearing, use of y/n!, use of pet names, italics = hello mean flashback. not proofread (sorry loves!)

wc: idk

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Moving day

You had agreed to move in with lando after months of begging from him. And there you were, sitting at your apartment packing up all your things, putting them into moving boxes and carrying them downstairs.

You had walked outside to the moving truck and gave lando the box, he grabbed it out of your grasp and put it in the back. “How about some food?” You smile at him. “Why not,” he ginned back at you.

You both walked to the kitchen together. You scrummaged around in the fridge trying to find some type of food, the fridge was basically bare until you came across a couple eggs and some veggies.

You grab the eggs and crack them into a bowl, cutting up the veggies you found and adding them into the bowl. You turn on the last pan you had in the kitchen and started to made some omelettes for the both of you. You start to realize this was the last time you would be in this apartment, cooking a meal for you and your boyfriend. You started to feel sappy and looked back down at the now, cooked omelette.

You looked around in the cupboards to find no plates “fuck,” you mumbled under your breath. That was the first box you took to landos. “Something wrong?” Lando looked at your puzzled state. “I forgot I packed all my plates first, they’re already at your house,” you let out a heavy sigh. “It’s fine, we’ll eat out of the pan,”he smiled slightly at you. “Hopefully I can find some type of cutlery around here,”

As you continued to look around your somewhat empty kitchen, you find a couple old forks and knives laying around. Ones you forgot even existed. You swiftly grabbed them and walked over to lando. You both enjoyed the quiet, relaxing times with him. All the chaos can be so overwhelming, lando with f1 and you with university.

Once you finished your omelettes, you walked back to your room. There were a few boxes that were laying around, but one caught your eye. It was the sentimental box, full of Polaroids of your friends, lando, and even your old cat, Luna. You smiled at the photos, and scrummaged through the box. You found your old camcorder you thrifted back in 2018. You opened the camcorder, praying that it’ll turn on and to your surprise it did.

You scroll back to the first video taken on the camcorder and smiled. It was you. Walking with your camcorder in hand to a place in the park with a mysterious man. But that man wasn’t just anyone, it was lando. His voice was squeaky “hey!” he smiled at the camcorder. You grinned at seeing his younger state, until the camcorder got passed to lando to show yourself. You cringed at your old state, the ripped skinny jeans and old, beaten up black vans. “Oh god,” you quickly close the camcorder before lando walked in. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen this in years.” He walked closer to you, grabbing it out of you hands and opening it.

Lando scrolled through all the videos the two of you made over the past few years. Ones you forgotten about. Lando clicked on one, “hey guys,” you say in the background, your camera pointed at lando. “Today, lando is meeting my parents!” Lando turned beet red in the video, his anxious stance was very present in the video. He had some type of flowers he bought from the floral shop not too long before. Lando takes a deep breath and knocks on the door of your mum and dad’s home. Swiftly the door opened, your mum greeting lando with a big hug. “You must be lando! I’ve heard so much about you,” lando was tense in the grasp of your mum, but slightly relaxed a few seconds. He let go of your mum and handed her the flowers. “These are for you,” he said nervously, he smiled when she looked at them. “Oh! These are beautiful. Thank you dear,” your mum turned her body to let you two in. Hugging you when you came by. Once you had gotten further into the house the video stopped completely.

You smiled at lando who was giggling slightly at the horrible camera work, after all, he did have a photography account. You grabbed the camcorder out of his hands and started to record, "hey guys," you said in the background, the camera pointed to the (almost) empty room. "Lando is helping me move out. We're moving in together!" you cheerfully exclaim, you turn the camcorder to lando who is continuing to look through your sentimentals. You shoved the camcorder right in his face, he smiled and waved at the camcorder. "im showing this to our future kids," you grin. "Kids, eh?" he smirked, you hit him playfully, "duh."

You continued to walk around the apartment, giving a slight story to your 'audience' about every place in your apartment. Finally you got to the front door, a bittersweet feeling slowly started to kick in. You hear footsteps coming towards you, it was lando carrying your last box. You sigh heavily, placing the camcorder down, it pointing towards the two of you. "So, this is it, huh." you mumble, lando pats your back contently. "New beginnings love. I'm so excited for you to move in with me! " he was calm, hopeful, excited. You smile at his cheerfulness and gave lando a quick peck on the kiss. "I cannot wait to start my new beginning with you," your face lit up and you grabbed the camcorder from the ground. "Well, this is it! Bye guys," you smile. Lando peering over your shoulder, "byeeee!" he waves.

You sigh as you end the recording. You start to slowly walk out of your apartment, lando following behind with the last box. He places it down when he gets outside your front door, you hesitantly close it. You grab the keys out of your pocket and fiddle trying to grab the right one, you were anxious. What happens if you guys break up? All these negative emotions fill your thoughts until lando sees your uneasy state. He places his hand over your now shaking hand. You take a deep breath and lock your door. You turn to lando.

"To new beginnings," you smile.

"To new beginnings, love." lando kisses you.

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a/n: here we go! second fic. more are coming. I hope you guys enjoyed. I might make this a multi-part fic, with different cute videos y/n and lando find if people want that (comment or send in a request telling me!!) anyway, requests are always open. <3 thank you for everyone and their support on the max fic! everyone is so sweet and supportive.

[drabbles-mc]

Different Now

Bucky Barnes x ExWife!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst

For Week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2024: exes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: something about Bucky and an ex-wife really got me Thinking Thoughts. hope y'all enjoy!!! xo

The apartment wasn’t something that you had asked for when it was all said and done. Really, you hadn’t asked for anything. The only things that you wanted weren’t things that could be divvied up by overpriced divorce lawyers.

When you had tried to tell Bucky that you weren’t interested in keeping the apartment, he wasn’t having it. You tried to argue that it had been his to begin with, that you were the one that moved in with him. It only made sense for you to be the one to move right back out again. But he was adamant—he always was. His argument then had been that he had another place to stay in the meantime until he found something else. It felt like half of his life was at the tower anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to treat it like a long-term stay at a hotel until he found a new apartment.

You were so sick of arguing by then that you just gave in. If he didn’t want to have it, it wasn’t the hill you were preparing to die on. You slapped your signature and initials where the lawyers told you to and just like that, the apartment was yours and Bucky wasn’t.

He did you the courtesy of letting you know when he would be stopping by to move all of his things out. When the day came, he knew that it was no stroke of luck that you happened to be out of town for a few days. The realization stung but he supposed that he couldn’t really blame you for it either.

The first few weeks after he’d moved all of his things out, the apartment felt almost painfully empty. There was a sliver of time during which you were thinking about moving out anyway, Bucky’s final parting gift be damned. It didn’t feel quite like home without him, without Alpine and all of the chaos and mess that came with the two of them.

Eventually you started to fill in the gaps that he’d left behind. New books for the shelves to fill the space where his used to be. Art and trinkets to fill in the empty spaces where his small pockets of clutter used to reside. It was the largest the apartment had ever felt and it was strange to have no one to share it with. Slowly, though, you started to adapt. It slowly started to feel like home.

Redecorating the apartment was one thing. Adjusting to your daily routine without Bucky being part of it was another. It wasn’t as though either of you had been blindsided by the divorce—it’d been coming for some time. Still, even as the distance had grown between you, there were still those tendrils of connection that hadn’t been severed yet. Attachments that only form after years spent with someone day in and day out through all of the things that the two of you had gone through together.

There were times when you were lounging on the couch in the living room and for a moment you’d find yourself wondering when he was going to come home only to realize that he wasn’t going to. Or you’d be heading home after work and you’d almost go to find his name in your phone to call and see if he needed you to pick anything up on your way. Habits you hadn’t even realized formed until you no longer needed them.

Weeks turned into months. New habits formed to replace the old ones that no longer suited you and your life. If you didn’t think too hard about it, you didn’t feel the dull ache that still existed down in your chest. You stayed busy with work, with friends. The times when you thought about reaching out to Bucky, you made every effort to reach out to just about anyone else instead. The last time you’d had any sort of conversation with him was when he moved his things out. And even then, it had been a simple text exchange. Him saying, “All set. Let me know if I missed anything.” Followed by your brief response of, “Will do”. Something short that made you glad he couldn’t see the tears that were welled up in your eyes.

Not reaching out to him was difficult. It was hard not to sit and wonder if he was having just as hard of a time with it as you were, but it wasn’t like you could reach out and ask him about it. The closest you got to any kind of communication with Bucky was the rare text from Steve. He never asked about Bucky or anything having to do with the two of you. He kept it cordial, the way that you’d expect from any acquaintance, you supposed. Because that’s what he was to you now. You got the apartment in the divorce. Bucky got all of his friends. Painful but fair.

You were halfway to falling asleep on the couch when your phone buzzed on top of the coffee table. The groan of annoyance you let out was involuntary, arm still slung across your forehead as you contemplated whether or not you wanted to see what anyone had to say. It wasn’t terribly late—not what you considered emergency late, anyway. But it was still getting close to past the time most people would be reaching out to chat.

Your arm that wasn’t covering your face reached out from underneath your throw blanket. Blindly groping around, your fingertips finally grazed over your phone. You were forcing your eyes to open back up all the way as you carefully held the phone over your face. There had been enough instances of you dropping it directly onto your nose and forehead to dissuade you, but it never stuck.

Skimming the notifications on your screen, at first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you. Maybe you were just exhausted. Or maybe you were stuck in a very realistic if not boring dream. Or nightmare, depending on how you wanted to look at it. There just didn’t seem to be any other reasons that there would be a text message from Bucky waiting to be opened.

It got you to sit upright, at least. The blanket fell from where it’d been pulled up to your shoulders, piling in your lap as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa. There was no universe in which you would leave the message unopened, or delete it without reading it. Even though you knew that about yourself, though, you still sat there for a few seconds and entertained the thought of it.

You typed in the passcode to your phone with the second nature ease you always did, the only difference now was that your heart was in your throat as you waited to see what the message was going to be. It’d been months, and it was late, and you had no idea what you should be expecting from him.

“Feel free to say no but I need a favor” Your heart dropped to your stomach and then another message came through. “Not an emergency”

His messages didn’t leave you feeling like you had anything in the way of answers. If anything, now you just had more questions. “You okay?” Part of you knew that if things had really been bad, he would’ve called. Or he wouldn’t have reached out at all. One of the two.

“Need a place to stay” You couldn’t help the deep sigh that you let out as you read his message. Then, as if he heard you, he sent a follow-up message. “Just one night. Promise”

If you said no, he’d drop the topic. You knew that about him beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’d let it go and realistically it would probably be the last time you heard from him. But you also knew that he wouldn’t be reaching out and asking you if he had somewhere else he felt like he could go. He had people he could lean on, places he could be. If he was reaching out to you there must’ve been something going on. It wasn’t your business to ask about anymore, though.

“Still have the address?” It was a lame pass at a joke, but you hoped it would at least convey that he could come over.

“Yeah, think I might have it somewhere. Thank you”

You didn’t reply, didn’t really feel like there was anything else that needed to be said. instead, you looked around your apartment and wondered if there was something that you were supposed to be doing. It felt strange, the idea of him being back in the apartment again. It was his first, sure. And then you shared it. But now it was yours and he was going to be a guest. However long it would take him to get there, you were sure it wasn’t enough time to unpack all of those feelings.

Bucky gripped onto the strap of the backpack he was wearing as he stood outside the door of your apartment. The halls leading to your apartment had been empty, which he should’ve expected with how late it was. He stared at the door, the same dark, mock-wood paneling staring him in the face that had each night for so many years. It felt familiar and strange to be standing in front of it again.

He adjusted his grip on his backpack, a brief distraction so he didn’t have to contemplate knocking or taking out his keys. It was later now than it had been when he first reached out. The amount of time that had passed had nothing to do with how long it took him to get from the tower to your apartment—that hadn’t taken very long at all. What made him so late was the amount of time he’d spent sitting in his car debating whether or not he was actually going to do this. The engine had been off, everything silent, and he just sat there staring at the symbol in the middle of his steering wheel as he weighed out every possible scenario, all of the pros and cons that he could think of.

But now he was here and he almost turned around and walked away again anyway. Before he could completely chicken out, he fished his keys back out of his pocket. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that he still had the apartment key—it was just such a fixture on his keyring by that point. But he didn’t have it in him to bring it back. It wasn’t like he ever used it, or even thought about using it. There was something about it that he just couldn’t throw away.

He had about three seconds of thinking this was the one singular time that his sentimental streak was going to come in handy. But then when he tried to slip the key into the lock, he found that he couldn’t. He double-checked to make sure that he’d gone to the right apartment on the right floor, although he couldn’t imagine messing that up.

Then it hit him. Whether you had asked the landlord to swap out the locks after he left or if the man had done it on his own because he didn’t trust any split to be as cordial as any couple tried to make it out to be, Bucky no longer could let himself in. Pulling in a deep breath, he shoved his keys back into his pocket and reached to knock on the door.

The speed at which you leapt off the couch at the sound to get to the door would’ve been embarrassing if he had been able to see it. Luckily your shame was just for you. Stopping in front of the door, you took a couple breaths as you smoothed out the oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts that you were wearing. Maybe you should’ve thought to change but it was too late now. Besides, it wasn’t anything that Bucky hadn’t seen a million times before.

You undid all the locks. When you had first gone over to Bucky’s apartment you’d thought that he was a little paranoid. You didn’t blame him for it, but it still crossed your mind. After he’d moved out, though, you found that you had no interest in getting rid of the deadbolt or slider-chain that he’d had put onto the door.

His face was all exhaustion and worry until he found himself looking at you. Then the worry lines on his forehead eased a little, his frown didn’t stretch quite so deep. Even so, you could still see the stress on his face and in the way that he was holding himself. You were sure that the current circumstances didn’t help, but whatever had happened that resulted in him reaching out to you was just as much of a culprit.

“Hi,” he finally said when he realized that it’d just been the two of you silently staring at each other.

The sound of his voice was enough to get you to smile despite the knot in your stomach. “Hey.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his backpack as he did. “Thank you for this. I know I shouldn’t have asked…”

You shook your head as you opened the door and gestured for him to come in. “It’s fine.” Once he was inside you turned around and redid all the locks. You ignored the endearing expression on his face when you faced him again for the sake of your own sanity. “Everything alright?”

He started off nodding but then it dissolved into a shrug as his chin tucked down towards his chest. “Didn’t want to stay at the tower. Everyone’s been at each other’s throats lately so when we got back this afternoon I just…I didn’t want to stay there.”

“Your place far away now?” you asked as you took his backpack from him and set it by the couch. You started to walk towards the kitchen, hoping he would take the hint and follow suit.

“What?” he asked, toeing off his boots before he started to trail behind you.

“Your apartment. Or house. Is it far?” You were still trying to figure out why he had decided to come here of all places.

“Um,” he stumbled on his words as he stayed by the stretch of counter kitty-corner to where you stood at the coffee pot, “n-no. Not…really.” He kicked himself immediately. He was never able to lie very well to you at all, let alone so quickly on his feet. It said plenty about him, about how he felt about you, but there was no time to get into all of that.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Want a cup of coffee to hold onto while you tell me about whatever that means?” You kept your tone light and joking enough, but you knew that years of experience with you meant that Bucky knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of explaining himself.

He let out a small sigh of defeat as he nodded. “Please.”

Neither of you said anything as you made a cup of coffee for each of you. You could see him out of the corner of your eye. Any other circumstance would’ve made it seem strange that he was staring at you so blatantly, but there weren’t very many other things to hold his attention at the moment. Something told you he wasn’t really in the mood to try and count all the things you’d changed after he moved out.

You brought the coffee mugs over to the small table that was tucked off to the side in your kitchen. You sat down and waited for him to do the same, which he did after a moment of hesitation. He pulled his mug closer to him, cupping it between both his hands even though only one could really feel the warmth radiating off of it.

“So?” you asked before taking a sip from your cup.

He didn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the drink in front of him. “I’ve been staying at the tower.”

You nodded, leaning back in your chair. “Okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head. He still couldn’t make himself look up. “Since I m—” he tripped on the words, still not accustomed to saying them out loud, “Since I moved out.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky.”

He had no other choice but to look at you now. “I know.”

Gesturing briefly to the apartment, you said, “I told you to just keep th—”

“I know you did,” he cut you off. “I wanted you to have it. Still do.”

“You can’t just stay at the tower forever. It’s basically, like, a glorified frathouse.”

You both had a laugh at that before Bucky’s face sobered up. “I wasn’t planning on staying there. Just,” he took a sip of his coffee, enjoying it more than anything he’d concocted at the tower in the last few months “didn’t get to it.”

“Tony mention starting to charge you rent, then?” you asked, a joking lilt to your tone to hide the ache in your chest.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, a slight upward curl to his lips, but you could tell that he was trying to stuff down some of the same feelings that you were. “I’m sure he will once he figures out how much hot water I use.”

You let a beat pass before saying, “If you need help finding a place, I can—”

“No, no.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice but it wasn’t really directed at you. “Finding a spot isn’t the issue. I can do that.”

“Then why the fuck have you been crashing at the tower this long?”

“I wasn’t ready to get my own place!” he snapped, not meaning to. The answer came out quickly and much more honestly than he intended. He’d wanted to some up with something snarky to evade the discussion, but it was too late and he was too tired. Sitting across the table from you always left him feeling so vulnerable. He tried to ignore the sad frown on your face, the tears welling in your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to start over. Getting my own place? I just…yeah, no.”

“Sorry,” the word came out meek and mumbled. You hadn’t meant to pry open that particular can of worms, especially not on a night that he was just looking for a place to unwind and rest. Maybe it would’ve done the two of you some good to have some form of contact over the last few months, but it was too late to go back and fix that now.

“You still like it here?” he asked.

You could hear the hopefulness in the question. There was only one right answer to the question. Bucky needed to know that the one thing that he could really leave you with was something that had done you some good, something you could still enjoy even if he wasn’t around to enjoy it with you anymore.

You nodded. “I like it. It’s…you know…it’s different now. But I like it.”

He tried not to sound too relieved. “Good.”

Minutes ticked by with nothing but silence between you. Everything that either of you wanted to say, you felt like you couldn’t. every time you glanced over at Bucky, he was already looking at you. His face never really gave away much, but you could still see the sadness in his eyes. You couldn’t help but to think that this wasn’t exactly what he thought he was singing on for when he reached out needing a place to crash for the night.

Like he could read your thoughts, he spoke up. “Figured I’d just take the couch.”

“You sure?” you asked, like you had any real backup plan to offer.

He nodded as he stood up out of his seat. He picked his mug up off the table, and then yours before walking them over to the sink. You watched him as he quickly rinsed them out before setting them down in the sink basin. “It’s fine. I’ll be gone before you’re up in the morning.”

You frowned at that without meaning to. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. Like I said—I just needed a break.”

There was no use in trying to turn it into an argument, so you nodded. “Okay. I’ll grab you a blanket and a pillow.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

When you came back out to the living room, Bucky had already changed. He was in his usual sleepwear—an told tank top and loose shorts. When the two of you were together, he’d always just foregone the shirt half of the equation, but you assumed that he was trying his best to be courteous.

You offered him the folded-up blanket and the pillow resting on top of it with a weak smile. “Here you go.”

His smile wasn’t much more convincing than yours, but at least you were trying together. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You raked your fingers back over your scalp as you tried to figure out if there was something else you should be saying or doing. “If you need anything else, let me know. Or, you know,” the nervous laugh you let out let him know you were no more certain about this joke than he was going to be, “help yourself. Whatever it is, is probably right where you left it.”

Surprisingly enough you both chuckled quietly. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say or do but it still felt wrong to turn and head off to your room. Your standing there wasn’t doing either of you any good, so you crossed your arms over your chest. “Okay. Goodnight, then.”

He nodded as he tossed the pillow onto the couch and started to unfold the blanket you’d given him. “Night.”

You took a small step backwards. “If I don’t see you in the morning, good luck. With…you know, everything.”

He gave a small smile as he draped the blanket onto the couch cushions. “Thanks, doll.”

The sharp silence that followed those two words permeated the entire room. Bucky froze, unable to look over at you. You froze, unable to look anywhere but at him. The tension in his muscles came back tenfold as he tried to figure out how to walk himself out of the minefield he’d just stepped into. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before over at you.

“Sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sure how much he meant it. “Force of habit. It’s been a while.”

You wished that you’d felt nothing when he said it, but there was still the flutter in your stomach at the sweetness, the familiarity of the pet name that he hadn’t been around to call you in far too long.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You pulled your arms a little tighter around yourself, like that would stop you from reaching out and doing something stupid that you’d be kicking yourself for later. “I get it.”

He could see the tension in your body, could practically feel the waves of it rolling off you. “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

You laughed, the sound tired but still a little amused at the question. Your arms dropped back to your sides. “Yes. God. Please, it’s fine. Don’t, don’t worry about it. I’d be more upset knowing you were going back to the tower.”

He laughed, muscles in his shoulders loosening. “Okay.”

You reached out, fingertips just barely grazing against his forearm. “Goodnight.”

The touch barely lasted for a second but he could’ve sworn that he felt the warmth from your fingertips spread throughout his whole body in that moment. You were already turned away from him and making your way to the bedroom. Off to be alone in a place the two of you spent so many nights sharing.

His body was moving faster than his brain as he stepped to go after you. He knew as he was doing it that it was a terrible idea from every angle but he couldn’t stop himself. You’d heard his footsteps, and you were turning around to see what he was that he needed. Your pause caused him to have to stop short, hardly a hair’s breadth between you. You were holding your breath in anticipation, waiting for whatever was coming next, Bucky’s eyes desperately searching yours.

He brought his hand up to your cheek, his palm rough but warm against your face. You sunk into his touch the same way one sinks into their bed at home after a long trip away. Your eyes fluttered shut but it didn’t stop the tears from welling and escaping onto your cheeks.

“Bucky…” even at a whisper your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name.

He waited for you to open your eyes, to look at him again. Your eyes were glassy, the tears that weren’t staining your cheeks clinging to your lashes. But you were beautiful. In that moment he couldn’t understand how or when it had all turned into such a mess. It seemed impossible that it had all fallen apart.

He was waiting for you to pull away as he leaned in, but you didn’t. You didn’t backpedal, didn’t try to push him away from you, didn’t ask him to stop or say it was a bad idea, even though he should’ve and it was. His lips caught yours for the first time in…he didn’t want to think about how long. When you kissed him back it felt like it erased all the months of distance and silence between you. Your hands rested on his chest and suddenly the mess disappeared.

Even when you came back up for air, your lips were still practically touching. Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head. “Bucky.”

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, knowing where this was going. “Don’t.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. “But—”

“Please.” He brought his other hand up so that they were both cupping your face. It’d been a long time since the chill of the metal made you flinch. It still felt familiar, welcoming despite the circumstances. “Please.”

Another half-hearted protest was on the tip of your tongue but he kissed you again before you could get it out. It made your knees weak, the amount of desire that he was able to pack into one gesture, a gesture that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“I know,” he said with a tiny nod. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “But I’m askin’ anyway.”

You knew that you were going to give in from the start, but at least now you could lie to yourself if you had to—you could tell yourself that you at least tried to put up a little bit of a fight. Satisfied with that, you nodded as you leaned in and kissed him.

Relief coursed through him as he wrapped his arms around you. With no hesitation he turned and started to walk you back towards the couch, not taking his lips off yours as he did. His hands slipped up underneath the fabric of your shirt dragging and mapping out your skin like he was trying to feel for anything that had changed since he last had you like this. Your hands slid up his chest and neck, briefly running over the stubble that was coming in along his jaw, before they wound themselves into his hair. He leaned into you, deepening your kiss further at the sensation of your nails carding through his hair and raking along the top of his head.

He pulled out of the kiss, only doing so long enough to get your shirt off, and to allow you to do the same to him. They landed haphazardly on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. They no sooner hit the floor and Bucky had you lying flat on your back on the couch. Not even a second passed before he was on top of you, settled over you and in between your legs like he was always meant to be there. He kissed you with conviction as his hands ran over your stomach and chest. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation, missing the way that it felt when he touched you like this.

You felt the smooth metal of his Vibranium hand cupping the side of your face while his other hand trailed teasingly down your stomach towards the waistband of your shorts. You felt the whine building in the base of your throat before he even reached your core. The way you felt him smile into your kiss let you know that he knew it, too. You missed him too much and wanted him too badly to care about that.

The second you felt his fingers give a teasing graze over your center, you were bucking into his touch. You felt the shaky breath he took in, like there was still some part of him that was trying to exercise some self-control. It was too late for that now as far as you were concerned. He dragged his fingers along your folds, feeling how wet you already were for him. The thought of you still wanting him so badly had him pulling his lips off of yours so that he could litter your neck and chest in love-bites and marks that would be there long after this was over.

You arched into his touch, the feeling of his teeth along your skin. His hand that had been cupping your face now had a firm grip on your jaw, keeping your chin angled in a way that gave him the most access to the sensitive skin of your neck. You didn’t fight it, helpless to do anything but whine and pant, hands tugging at his hair so that you could feel the vibrations of his moans along the column of your throat.

If things had been different, you could’ve spent hours doing just this—just the touching and teasing. The game and the chase of it all. But the invisible clock that hung over the two of you was ticking, and reality was going to set back in sooner than you wanted. You wanted him one more time in earnest before you lost him again.

“Bucky,” you whimpered.

Then he was over you, looking down into your eyes. His expression was half-arousal, half-worry, like he thought this was going to be the moment when the other shoe dropped, when you decided that this was too bad of an idea to continue.

You pulled lightly down on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Your words, the desperation in your voice, it nearly rendered Bucky a puddle on the floor. He couldn’t conjure up a single word to say, but he didn’t have to. Instead, he quickly pulled your shorts down your legs and tossed them off to the side. He felt the way you were pushing down on the waistband of his and the breathy laugh he let out only lasted for a moment before he realized you got them halfway down his thighs. You were too needy to wait any longer, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you.

Bucky lined himself up at your entrance, sliding in as you wound your legs tighter around him. Your lips crashed against his in a bruising kiss as you reveled in the sensation of him pushing into you. Your moaned and gasped into his mouth at the return of the familiar sensation, your nails clawing at his back because you had to get it out of you somehow.

He left a trail of kisses along your jaw up to your ear. His voice was low as he egged you on, coaxing more out of you as he started to thrust into you. He missed this, the way you felt, the way you sounded. He missed your moans and the way you said his name, the way you asked for more, harder, don’t stop, like he was a man who would ever tell you no. He missed telling you how good you feel, like you were made for him. He missed telling you how pretty you look when he’s fucking you.

He missed everything else, too, but for now this was what he could have. And he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

Your legs were trembling around his waist and he knew that you were close. He wasn’t far behind you. He didn’t stand a chance from the start. Then your teeth sunk into the skin where his neck met his shoulder and the last of his resolve went out the window. His thrusts became harder, faster. His face was buried in the crook of your neck when you came, and he etched the way you cried out his name into his memory.

Even in your blissful daze, you could still feel that he was getting close. You felt the way his hips began to tense and stutter. You could also feel the way that has was trying to pull out. You were a pliant mess beneath him but you still had enough strength in you to grip onto his hips and pull him towards you.

He shook his head. “I—”

“Please,” you begged, words slurred with lust, “Jus’ wanna feel you again.”

The neediness in your tone and the pout of your lips did him in. He spilled into you, continuing to thrust until after he was spent. He collapsed on top of you, still buried inside you as he rested his head on your chest. Your heart was thumping at a rabbit’s pace against his cheek, and all he had it in him to do was close his eyes and soak it in.

Neither of you said anything as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid his arms underneath you, hands on your back as he kept himself pulled tight to you. You had one hand flat on Bucky’s back between his shoulder blades, the other toying idly with the messy locks of hair that you could reach.

This would usually be the time when one of you started the, “You okay?” conversation, but it felt like there was too much to unpack for that question now. Instead, Bucky tilted his head and looked up at you, giving a slight raise to his eyebrows. You got the hint giving a tiny nod to let him know that, given the circumstances of it all, right now you were fine if he was fine.

He relaxed then, letting his head drop back to your chest again. You settled back into the pillow that you’d originally brought out for him to use. Eventually, when you caught your breath, you’d head back to your own bedroom. But for now, there was comfort in the cramped quarters of the couch.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the light coming through your living room windows. You let out a tiny groan, wiping at your eyes as you tried to register your surroundings. You were on the couch, blanket draped over you. Alone. And that’s when the night before rushed back over you all at once.

Sitting up, you looked around the apartment. Your clothes were folded and left neatly on the coffee table, but Bucky’s were nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the kitchen, you saw the two coffee mugs from the night before washed and left to dry in the drainboard. Then you looked down at the floor beside you and noticed that Bucky’s backpack was gone. Just like him.

(divider by @silkholland 💞)

MCU Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!): @garbinge @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 @beardburnsupersoldiers @blackhawkfanatic

[justmeinadaze]

Hi lovely!! I want to start off by saying how TALENTED YOU ARE, genuinely you are my favourite writer on this platform for Eddie and Steve LOL

I was hoping we could get some more of pornstar! steddie as it is my literal favourite ( Maybe something where the reader is innocent and hasn't had much or any sex and asks them to teach her stuff or something? ) I don't know, if you feel up to writing it you can add anything you want!!

Again, absolutely adore you and your writing, and I hope you are having a wonderful day!!

xo Cherry 💫

A/N: I changed this a bit. I hope that's ok. I didn't want it to be too close or similar to Corroded Corpses "Boys On Film" (Check it out! Its amazing!)

Thank you for your compliments <3. I love you!

Warnings: Pornstar Steddie/ Plus Size Fem Y/N, established relationship, best friends to lovers, SMUT (dirty talk, 'teaching', facesitting, 69, pretty lady on top). FLUFF. Mentions of reader never having been on top because of her size (brief), she does have some reservations but they squash that.

Word Count: 2786

Steddie Asks/ Donate to Me

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on a minute, little lady.”, Eddie practically shouts as you roll your eyes and Steve laughs through his teeth. “You’re telling me that you’ve never ridden a guy before?”

“Ok, this was a mistake. Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything and keep watching your dirty movie alright?”, you sigh completely flushed with embarrassment.

The three of you had been best friends for so many years and you were never once shy around each other. You had seen them naked and vice versa, openly told the other about any sexual experiences you had or were currently having, and they even opened up to you about signing up to be in a porn film, bringing it over a few months later to show you the finish product. 

But when it came to other aspects of your relationships, you kept things to yourself especially after they beat up one of your ex’s for calling you a “fat slut” when you two got into a fight. 

“No, no. Please, go on. I’d love to hear more because I don’t understand why any man wouldn’t want to watch you bouncing around on top of them.” Again, you tried to shy away but Steve grabbed your hands and moved them away from your face. “Come on, honey. I’m serious. No teasing.”

“I mean…look at her…”, you smile hoping your tone sounds playful as you gesture towards the screen. “I mean…”

“Yeah. That’s a person…Wait…are you an alien?!”

“Stop it, Ed. Yeah, Y/N. We see her…I don’t see a difference though.”

“Really, Steven? You don’t see ANY difference?”, you sass as you get to your feet and place yourself by the tv screen. “NOTHING at all?”

“Are you trying to tell me the reason you’ve never been on top is because you’re curvy?”

“That’s a nice way of putting it, Eddie, but let’s be blunt here. I’m a fat girl. I’m too heavy and add in the fact that no one wants to see my…everything…jiggle.”

“Speak for yourself.”, he mumbles under his breath. 

“Did someone tell you this or is this you?”, Steve asks a bit more forcefully than he meant to. “Because we’ll fucking kill anyone that fucking lied to you like that. If it’s you then we can just spank it out of you.”

Both men smile when you giggle.

“Do you know how? To ride a dick, I mean.”

Your eyes narrow Eddie’s way as he nonchalantly places the beer bottle in his hand on the table beside his bed. 

“I mean…there’s not much to it…I imagine. Why? Wanna teach me, porn star?”

“We can if you want us to.”

Your gaze shifts between theirs waiting for the punch line followed by their infectious laughs that make you feel warm inside and out. But it never comes as they continue to stare at you with their wide, expressive eyes waiting on you to decide. 

“Why?”

“It’s not like we’re making love or anything. We’re just…teaching…It will be like how we were on set except there’s no camera.”

“We know we’re not your type anyway.”, Steve jests as he reaches out to lightly hit your knee. 

“Who says?” That grabs their attention as their heads fully snap in your direction. “I mean, we’ve never really talked about it but I always thought I wasn’t your type. Personally, I think you’re both sweet, funny, attractive…I guess.”

They laugh gently at your joke as you smile their way. 

“Ok!”, Eddie claps his hands loudly together as he bounces off the mattress. “Harrington, you lay on the floor here and Y/N, go ahead and take off everything from the waist down.”

Your eyes widen in amusement as you watch Steve slide off the bed with zero hesitation as he does what his friend suggestions and removes his shirt before tossing it to the side. 

“Are you…are you sure? I don’t…”

“Hey.”, the metalhead coos in a much softer voice as he takes you hand and guides you onto your feet. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just say the word. We’ll still love you.”

“You promise? I don’t…I can’t lose you two.”

With a tender smile, Eddie cups your face in his hands and brings his lips to your own for a tender kiss. 

“We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die.”, Steve adds as his fingers comfortingly caress your thigh.

“Well, let’s not go that far.”, you tease, trying to keep the mood light as you remove your shorts and panties. “Now what, Mr. Munson.”

“Oooo I like that.”, he jokes as he guides you to your knees, watching as the other man falls flat on his back and runs his fingers through his hair to push it way from his face. “Ok, now, whenever you’re ready, I want you to place both knees on either side of his head and—”

“You want me to sit on his face?” Eddie’s grin grows as he nods. “I’ve…I’ve never done that either—”

“I figured.”

Smirking, you lightly punch his chest causing both boys to chuckle before suddenly feeling soft kisses trailing up your thigh as Steve sits up on one of his elbows. 

“It’s ok, honey, trust me. I can handle it and if something’s not right I’ll tap your leg three times.”

His beautiful amber eyes watch you carefully as you exhale, allowing you all the time you need before you gradually crane your neck to kiss his lips. 

“Good girl. Come on.”, the former jock praises as you allow them to maneuver you till your lower half was hovering just above him with your hands balancing on his chest and his cling to your thighs. 

“Can, um, can I have a bit more vulnerability?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at your question till you gesture with your head at what you want, laughing as he leans over to unbutton Steve’s jeans to pull them down his ankles. 

“Ay! Be careful down there. I’m not a rag doll.”

You smile as he scolds the metalhead but you can’t help it when a shaky breath leaves you as his admittedly large cock tries to push through the hole in his boxers. 

“Is she turning you on, bud?”

“Fuck off, Munson. It’s just… Y/N, your pussy smells good.” Lifting his head, he presses his nose between your folds and your eyes roll back as his wide tongue follows. 

“God, you look so fucking sexy, sweetheart. N-Now, go ahead and roll your hips a-against his tongue. You can use his chest for balance if you need to.”

Doing as he instructed, you rolled your hips forward, whimpering when he grazed your clit down to your entrance, just barely dipping in before pulling back. You tried again with a bit more confidence causing Steve to groan underneath you as his mouth closed around your little bud.

“D-Did…did I hurt you?”

When he shook his head, he let go of your bundle of nerves with an obscene slurping pop that had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“No, baby. Fuck, you taste like heaven. You can push down harder if you need to. I’m ok.”

Baby

They’d never called you that before. Hearing it now drove you crazy as your nails dug into his chest and grinded your body against him. 

“Atta girl. You like that? You like hearing him compliment you like that?”, Eddie murmured as he pressed his nose into your cheek and left feathery light kisses along your skin. 

One of Steve’s palms released you and you both watched as he dug into his boxers to free his cock, collecting the copious amount of precum leaking from the tip to use as he stroked himself looking for a much-needed release. 

“O-Ok, fuck, now, I want you to bounce on his tongue, babe. Use your knees to lift yourself up a-and come back down till you feel him deep in that tight little pussy.”

You tried to do what he commanded but there was some self-conscious part of your brain that was terrified of hurting the boy beneath you. Eddie noticed your trepidation, hastily gripping your jaw and turning your eyes to meet his. 

“Don’t. Don’t think about your size or what those other fuckers told you. He said he’d tell you if he needed to stop. Do you not trust him?”

“N-No, I do. I do.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

“I’m sorry.”, you pant as you push yourself up straighter and utilize your knees to do what he instructed. As your body came back down, Steve’s thick, large tongue filled you so completely that you felt like you wanted to cry from pleasure. “Fuck, Steve. N-No one’s ever…been this deep…”

“You haven’t had me yet, sweetheart. Now, make yourself cum.”

After licking his fingers, Eddie reached between you and matched your rhythm as he messaged your clit. You were suddenly overwhelmed with euphoria as the coil snapped and Steve arms quickly wrapped around your middle, holding you in place as you rode out your high. 

“Good…good girl. Let him lick you clean, pretty girl.”

Your body twitched as you fell against him, his tongue still devouring you but now at a much slower pace. Your heavy eyes glanced towards his length that was now firey red and you couldn’t stop yourself when you carefully circled your fingers around him. 

“Ah, fuck.”, he whined at the sensitivity, seemingly on the edge of a release. Raising your head, you spit over his tip causing his head to hit the floor with a little thunk as he absorbed the feeling of your palm stroking his length. “Fuck, her hand feels good. Her pussy t-tastes amazing, Ed. It’s everything we…”

You couldn’t hear what he mumbled to Eddie as your lips fully enveloped him and all you good manage to absorb was the throbbing of his length on your own tongue. Steve’s fingers tangled in your hair as his hips thrust upwards and you allowed him to use your throat as he chased his high. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck…fuck! M’gonna cum.”

His seed spurted its warmth as he grunted in pleasure above you. After swallowing everything he had to give, you kissed his tip and he lazily man-handled you around till your face was level with his so he could passionately kiss your lips. 

“Are you ready for your second lesson, Y/N?”

At the sound of his strained tone, your gaze shifted towards Eddie who had his cock in his hand that now look just as red and angry as Steve’s had.

“Yes, Mr. Munson. I’m ready.”

Smirking at your answer, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms and climbed back on to his mattress with you on top of him straddling his waist. As he reached for the pack of condoms on his bed side table, your hand extended out to stop him. 

“I’m, um, I’m on the pill. I mean if you want to.”

Blinking, you noticed his confident demeanor faulter slightly. 

“Are you sure? With everything we do…on set and…”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, yeah, princess, I’m clean. I…we just understand that…you may have a viewpoint of us…”

Placing your palms under his ears, you softly kiss his lips as your thumbs caress his cheeks. 

“Did someone tell you this or is this you?”, you echo their words from earlier. “Because I’ll kick anyone’s ass who—”

“Yeah, yeah, ya dork.”, he jests as he playfully smacks your behind. “Ok, I’ve, um, I’ve never done it raw so…if your pussy is as good as Steve says it is…I may ruin this particular lesson by busting too soon.”

Giggling at his now nervous demeanor, you lift off your shirt and toss it towards the other boy who catches it midair before throwing it on the floor near your pants so he can climb in beside you both. 

“I like this bra. It’s cute.”, Steve compliments as his fingers trace the black lace while Eddie’s own hands rub up and down your sides.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby, just slide down onto my dick. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Nodding, Eddie holds his shaft as your entrance hovers just above him. Just the warmth alone that’s radiating from your cunt has his cock twitching before you slowly begin to descend onto him. 

“Shit.”

“What? Did I do s-something? Am I—”

His ringed hand clasps over your mouth as his other keeps you in place. 

“No. You’re not too heavy. Stop thinking about all that bullshit. Fuck, I really am going to fucking cum before she even moves.”

Steve grins at the man’s words as he winks at you reassuringly. Knowing that he’s alright, you continue to lower your body, taking him in inch by inch till you feel him fully sheathed inside you. 

“Eddie.”

“How does it feel, baby?”

“So…deep. Feels different…better…”

“Go—Go ahead and roll your hips.” You do as he says, repeating your movements you had done with the other boy causing an electricity to shoot through you as his cock grazes something inside you that you weren’t even sure was there. 

“Oh my god.”

“There’s the spot.”, he whispered. “Take over, Y/N. Balance on my chest and hit that spot, baby girl. Fuck, your pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

While you ride his length, you don’t notice the way your tummy jiggles or that from his angle you may not look flattering. All you can focus on is him and how he feels inside you. With every press of that button, you whimper and mewl his name causing you to clench tighter to him as he groans at the sound of you moaning. When you’re finally able to open your eyes to look at him, you notice his chocolate ones are zeroed in on where you two connected as his hands absently guide your movements on your waist. 

Occasionally, his gaze shifts to your breasts as he licks his lips at the sight and desperate to please him, you reach behind you to undo the clasp, throwing it to the ground. Leaning up towards your chest, Eddie wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and your fingers thread through his hair as you grind your hips against his. 

“So fucking beautiful. Cum for me, baby.”

Pushing at his chest, you chase your high and he bites his bottom lip at the sight as you finally truly take over. Your body shudders as your rhythm stutters and your pussy quivers as you come undone. It’s more than Eddie can handle and his grip becomes almost bruising as he guides your sloppy movements till you feel him empty deep inside you. 

“F-Fuck…oh, careful, pretty girl.”, he coos as you wince when you try to lift your body off his. “Can, um, is it ok if I hold you like this?”

Smiling, you nod as lay your head under his chin and he circles his arms around you so he can play with your hair. 

“In a minute we can take a shower and get you clean.”, he whispered as they both listened to you steadily breathe.

“Am I your type?” Confusion paints both their features and you push up on your knees so you could see them both. “You said you weren’t my type but I said that you were. Am I yours?”

Their gaze shifts to each other before Steve chuckles under his breath. 

“You didn’t hear what I said, did you? I said that your pussy was everything we ever talked about it being. That’s not all we talk about though. You’re kind and strong—”

“Sarcastic as fuck.”, Eddie cuts in making you laugh. 

“You’re so gorgeous, honey. When we were shooting our scenes we, uh, we pretended she was you.”

Both men sit up with the metalhead holding your body to keep you against him. 

“If you want this to be a onetime thing we understand but if not…”

“We’d like to take you on a date.”

“Maybe give you some more lessons.”

“Hey now. I’m sure I can teach you both a thing or two.”, you giggle as they beam up at you with nothing but care. “Ok, as long as you can promise me that no matter what I won’t lose you. You’ve been my best friends for so long and I love you so much.”

Placing his hand on the back of your neck, Eddie guides your lips to his. 

“What did I say, babe? We’ll always be here, no matter what. Cross my heart.”, he grins as he does the gesture over his chest and Steve follows, finishing it by grabbing your cheeks in both his massive palms to kiss you. 

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line 

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapter 5

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ Warnings : None

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ WC : 1,001

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ Previous Chapter : 4

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ A/N : Hope you enjoy!!!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Chapter 5: Mixed Signals

The halls of KISS buzzed with energy the next morning as Y/N made her way to her locker. Students were chatting, swapping notes, and preparing for the day’s classes. She was halfway through organizing her textbooks when she heard Minho’s unmistakable voice behind her.

“Good morning, girlfriend,” he drawled, leaning casually against the locker next to hers.

Y/N turned around, giving him an exasperated look. “Do you have to do this everywhere?”

“It’s called commitment,” he replied smugly.

“More like harassment,” she shot back, slamming her locker shut.

Minho chuckled and fell into step beside her as she walked to her first class. “You love the attention. Admit it.”

“I love peace and quiet. Big difference.”

As they turned the corner, they almost collided with Kitty and Yuri, who were deep in conversation. Kitty’s face lit up when she saw them.

“Aw, you two are so cute!” she exclaimed.

Y/N forced a smile, resisting the urge to groan. “Thanks, Kitty.”

“You know,” Yuri added with a smirk, “you two have been the talk of the school. Everyone’s wondering how you went from barely speaking to being inseparable.”

“Destiny,” Minho said smoothly, throwing an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

Y/N elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “More like poor decision-making.”

The group laughed, and they all walked to class together. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Kitty kept glancing at them, her expression a mix of curiosity and approval. It made Y/N feel a little guilty—Kitty genuinely thought they were a couple, and the longer they kept up the charade, the harder it would be to come clean.

Later that afternoon, Y/N sat in the library, attempting to focus on her history notes. Minho had insisted on joining her, despite her protests that she needed to concentrate.

“You know,” she said, not looking up from her textbook, “you’re not required to sit here and stare at me while I study.”

“I’m providing moral support,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“You’re providing a distraction,” she muttered, flipping a page.

Minho glanced at her notes and frowned. “Do you actually enjoy this stuff?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Some of us care about our grades.”

“I care about my grades,” he argued.

“Really? Because I distinctly remember you trying to copy my math homework last week.”

“That was a one-time thing,” he said defensively.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Despite his infuriating personality, there was something oddly entertaining about having Minho around.

That evening, the entire friend group gathered in the common room for a movie night. The couches were packed, with Kitty and Dae cuddled up on one side, Q and Jin sharing snacks, and Yuri scrolling through her phone. Minho and Y/N had claimed the loveseat, much to Y/N’s dismay.

As the movie played, Kitty suddenly paused it and turned to Y/N and Minho. “Okay, I have to ask—what’s the sweetest thing Minho’s ever done for you?”

Y/N froze, her mind racing. She hadn’t prepared for this level of scrutiny. “Uh… sweet?”

“Yeah,” Kitty said eagerly. “Like, has he surprised you with anything romantic? A grand gesture?”

“Of course I have,” Minho said smoothly, throwing an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to continue.

“Remember that time I brought you coffee before your big test?” he said, smirking.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. That actually had happened—completely unplanned, but still. She decided to roll with it. “Oh, yeah. That was… nice of you.”

Kitty sighed dreamily. “See? He’s such a good boyfriend.”

Minho shot Y/N a triumphant look, and she fought the urge to smack him.

“Okay, but what about you, Y/N?” Q chimed in. “What’s the sweetest thing you’ve done for Minho?”

Y/N hesitated, scrambling for an answer. “Uh… I helped him with his history essay last month.”

“She saved me,” Minho added dramatically. “I was on the brink of failing, and she swooped in like a knight in shining armor.”

The group laughed, and Y/N felt a pang of guilt. She hated lying to them, especially Kitty, who was practically glowing with excitement over their “relationship.”

The next day, Y/N joined the volleyball team for practice, but this time, the boys’ dance team was rehearsing in the adjacent studio. As Y/N warmed up, she couldn’t help but notice the way Minho’s ex, Madison kept glancing his way during their breaks.

Madison, with her flawless makeup and perfectly styled hair, was clearly trying to get his attention. Y/N wasn’t the jealous type—or so she thought—but something about Madison’s smug little smiles made her blood boil.

Minho, oblivious as ever, caught Y/N staring. He jogged over to the court and leaned against the net. “What’s with the death glare?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, looking away.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “You’re totally not mad about Madison flirting with me.”

“I’m not mad,” Y/N said through gritted teeth.

Minho smirked. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” she insisted, spiking the volleyball so hard it hit the floor with a loud thwack.

Minho laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, girlfriend.”

That evening, as they walked back to their dorms, Y/N finally snapped.

“This whole fake dating thing is getting out of hand,” she said, stopping in her tracks.

Minho turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone’s starting to believe it,” she said. “Kitty, Yuri, the whole group. And I don’t want to lie to them anymore.”

“So what are you saying?” he asked, his voice unusually serious.

“I’m saying maybe we should end this before it gets more complicated.”

For a moment, Minho didn’t respond. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If that’s what you want.”

Y/N hesitated, suddenly unsure. But before she could say anything else, Minho turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone under the dim glow of the campus lights.



[mountainsandmayhem]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter Two

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: You and Tommy go about your everyday lives and try not to think about your unfortunately first encounter AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Thank you SO MUCH for all the love on Chapter One, there's so much in store for these two cutie pies! Divders by @saradika-graphics. As always thank you to @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for helping me expand on my ideas and add all my punctuation xo. WC: 3k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: female character is fully developed OC, so are her friends; mutual pining; dirty talk (Tommy has a filthy mouth); dick pronouns; blow job/throat fucking; sub/dom dynamics; aftercare; name calling (but hot)

You

It’s been exactly fourteen days, sixteen hours and fifteen minutes since your unfortunate encounter with Tommy - not that you’ve been counting. You’ve allowed his deep voice to play over and over in your mind more times than you care to admit. 

“You know, sweetheart, your little tantrum would be much more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.”

You most definitely were not undressing him with your eyes. You thought he was Joel for fuck’s sake, and that goes against every code in the girl friendship handbook. However, once you learned he wasn’t Joel…well, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you weren’t sneaking glances his way throughout the night.

Like it or not, Tommy Miller is an incredibly attractive man; dark curly hair, expressive russet brown eyes and high cheekbones. It was too dark in the room to be sure, but you thought you saw a cluster of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His thick moustache was neatly trimmed, sitting perfectly above his plush lips. He gave off cowboy-meets-white-collar vibes. Granted, based on how broad he is and the way his suit jacket was hanging on by a goddamn thread around his biceps, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had been a cowboy at one point in his life. Your stomach flips at the thought of him in a cowboy hat. Even a bonafide city girl like yourself knows when a man looks like he can throw around a bale of hay.

Complete and total prick, you remind yourself, as you adjust your rearview mirror of your Bently before pulling out of your parking space at work. I am probably old enough to be his daughter. Who says something like that to someone that much younger? 

You push Tommy out of your mind and shift your focus on the summer ahead as you drive. Kim is positively thriving in California. She’s been cleaning for two of your dad’s very well-connected friends. Based on last month’s customer survey results, they’ve spread the word and have friends who are interested in hiring her, but Kim doesn’t have time with school and internships to take on anyone else. Austin is great for business, but California could be a literal jackpot for Maid Discreetly - celebrities, athletes, politicians, CEO’s; a plethora of potential clients who would benefit from a service like your dad’s. As much as you were hoping for a summer with her, you understand her staying in California for a summer law internship. That leaves just you, your cousin Laren, and Ophelia.

Laren has been busy planning her upcoming wedding while secretly running her topless catering company. Her father, who is your mom’s brother, is still very active in the church and expects the same level of devotion from his children. While they think she’s just an event planner, she’s actually so much more. You wonder if Sean, her husband-to-be, knows what she truly does for a living, and, if not, will she tell them once they’re married and living together? It still blows your mind that your uncle is so old-school that he won’t allow Laren and Sean to live together until after their wedding. 

Ophelia was always more Kim’s friend, seeing as they lived off campus together during college. After losing her spot as Miss Texas, and not having any of her modeling contracts renewed because of it, she decided to go to college and is now in her final year of business school. 

You turn the dial on your AC, blasting the cool air as you pull onto the freeway. June has come in hot, literally. It’s unseasonably warm, which usually means it’ll be a dry summer and the whole city will panic when the clouds finally decide to bless us with rain. Luckily, both you and Laren have pools at home, and your family is connected enough to have a summer pass at The Wayback hotel’s Cabana Club, so you and your friends are going to be nice and cool. 

Laren convinced you to take off early today and meet at the hotel. It’s a short drive from your downtown office, tucked into the hills of Austin, and feels like you’re on vacation while being in your own city’s backyard. You pull into the valet, hand your keys to someone who barely looks old enough to drive and meet Laren in the lobby. After changing into your swim attire, you both head out to two reserved chairs. 

“Fuck, this is nice,” Laren whispers under her breath as she unties the sheer black wrap from her waist, now just in a neon pink tie bikini. She already has a golden brown hue to her skin. 

“Beyond nice. I think we should do some networking here,” you respond, looking around at the wealth that seems to be dripping off of most of the people. Wives soak in the vitamin D in small swimsuits, the men beside them in linen dress pants and white button up shirts, their eyes glued to a phone or laptop screen. You note the few men who aren’t completely focused on their devices, sneaking glances at the women they are with. It’s quite likely that they are a mistress or inappropriately young girlfriend instead of a wife.  

Laren practically melts into her fluffy white pool chair. “Speak for yourself. I’m here to forget about work. Honestly, if I was you and knew I was going to have access to a forty million dollar trust fund on my twenty-fifth birthday, I wouldn’t have half the work ethic you do.” 

You shush your cousin and shoot her a glare as you dig through your Stella McCartney tote for your sunscreen; the last thing you need is everyone here knowing who you are. Growing up, your last name was a burden. Kids in your public school were pushed towards you by their parents, everyone wanting to be friends with the rich girl. When you moved to private school, you were looked down upon as the “public school trash” until everyone learned your last name. Being an awkward teenager is hard enough without debutante balls and boys being introduced to you as potential suitors. You’re grateful for it now, and recognize all the opportunities it has opened for you, but having the last name you do is a weight on your shoulders. The only child, the namesake, somehow expected to carry on a legacy. 

You slide back on your chair, applying sunblock to your legs. “I’m hoping if I bring in clients, my dad will finally let me take on more responsibility. Kim is going to crush it in California, I know she will, which means my parents are going to have to spend more time there to hire a staff and bring in more clients. I want to take over in Austin.” 

Laren reclines her chair and sighs. “Babe, you’re going to take over. You are the most qualified person to do so when your dad is ready.” 

You rub some of the coconut scented SPF into your chest as you speak. “I know. I just want to show him that I can do it now. I’m sick of being his daughter who does just the hiring and training, ya know?” 

“Hey,” Laren sits up and squeezes your knee gently so you’ll look at her. “Without you, none of those houses would get cleaned to the standards they do. Which means your dad wouldn��t be able to charge out the nose. You are so much more than just hiring and training.”

 You click the cap of the sunscreen closed and place it on the small wicker table between you and Laren. “Deep down I know that, but there’s a very real part of me that feels like my dad is going to marry me off and give the job to the husband that he’s deemed worthy.”

Laren doesn’t know all the details and stipulations around your trust fund. Fuck, you aren’t even sure you know every little piece of fine print. The three things you’ve always been told are a college degree, being at least twenty-five years of age, and your nuptials must be approved by your dad. You’re nowhere near marriage, but you are dangerously close to the minimum age.

 Does this mean I won't get access to my trust fund soon? Or can my dad just take it away if I marry someone he doesn’t feel is up to his standards? The questions run rampant in your mind. You make a mental note to talk to your mom about it.

Laren uses her free hand to slide her sunglasses down her nose, a line of concern between her brows, “Did your dad say that?”

You sigh, laying back on your chair and rolling your head to look at her. “He didn’t have to.”

Rage flares behind her eyes. Luckily, she keeps her voice quiet as she says, “Did your piece of shit ex tell you that?”

A deep breath fills your lungs and you shake your head, “No, like I said, it’s just a feeling.”

As you lounge back in your chair you swallow hard, trying not to think about Preston. It’s been a few months since you ended things with him. The relief you felt when he walked out of your bedroom that night was like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time, but the words he said throughout your three year relationship still linger. 

She follows your lead and settles back in her chair, turning her face up to the sun. “That loser did a real number on you, didn’t he?”

“Unfortunately,” you deadpan, following it with a humourless laugh. You let out a slow, relaxing breath, forcing all the thoughts of him out and then focus on the warmth of the sun splashing across your skin. Slowly, the heat of the day turns your muscles into goo. It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes before Laren snickers. 

“What’s so funny?” you murmur, rolling your head towards her.

“I just still can’t believe you yelled at Tommy Miller at that gala.” She says with a laugh.

You swat her arm before rolling onto your stomach. “Shut up.” 

“Sorry, I just hate that I missed it. Plus, he’s so fucking handsome. I’m surprised you don’t remember him from that poker game. Fuck, I would have loved to see him all dressed up.”

“He’s abhorrent.” You say, holding back a smile.

Laren snickers again, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe.”

Tommy 

“Get me hard. Suck on him,” he practically growls at the woman kneeling in front of him as he twists his hand into her hair. He has a full window of onlookers at JMKink tonight, just the way he likes it. 

Kya is a new sub to him; she pays him for an hour every other week and this is their second session together. The first one went really well, but of course it did; the algorithm that JMKink uses in their app wouldn’t pair them up if they didn’t have complimentary kinks. She likes to be dominated and, like Tommy, wants people to watch. Tommy is the reason that you can open the windows of the rooms available to rent. It’s optional, lots of people keep them closed, but if you want the members of the club in the dark voyeur room on the opposite side of the glass to watch, all you do is pull open the thick black blind. You can also choose if you want them to be able to hear what’s happening; Tommy always allows for both. 

He doesn’t agree with all the rules that come with being a member, mainly the one that states condoms must be worn. Tommy loves watching his cum leak out of freshly fucked pussy just as much as he loves being watched. Him, Joel, and Tess have discussed the rule again and again, and even with the required test results, and everything happening in the club being consensual, it’s just too risky. But, his business partners have agreed that when he finds a sub that he has the right chemistry with, Tommy can have paid performances that can be condom free. This is not that night though.  

Tonight, Kya specifically asked for her throat to be fucked after being edged. In fact, she requested for him to not let her come at all. After almost forty minutes of him bringing her to the brink of orgasm only to stop, he uncuffed her from the wall and told her to crawl to him. He knew the rub of her thighs as she crawled would only further add to her torture; it would feel good but wouldn’t be the right angle or pressure to let her come. Now, she has her impossibly soft lips wrapped around his cock, her skin sparkling with sweat as she suckles on the fat tip of his dick, her lips vibrating with each of her moans. Kya is one of the most beautiful subs Tommy has ever had, and stuff like this usually has Tommy hard as steel, but something feels off tonight. 

“Keep going, little slut,” he practically spits, trying to get himself there mentally. He closes his eyes and a flash of the brunette that told him off at the gala last week appears. Subtle curves, curious eyes, her matte red lips that he wants to smear his cum all over to make them glisten. His cock twitches at the thought, his hips flexing forward. He hears a gagging sound before he pulls his hips back, imagining that red lipstick staining his cock. 

“Look so fuckin’ pretty on your knees for me,” he whispers, a small giggle fills his ears before he pistons his hips forward and opens his eyes. Kya is absolutely stunning, there’s no reason he should have to fantasize about anything, or anyone, when he’s with her. So why is he fighting from closing his eyes and picturing you again?

Insanity, or witchcraft. He thinks to himself, trying to find a reason. Witchcraft, you’re an idiot, Tommy. Fuck, I must be going insane.

Tommy rocks his hips back and forth, and Kya is the perfect sub; hollowing her cheeks and letting the salvia fall from her lips, coating his cock as he fucks her mouth in slow, deep strokes. “Moan for me,” he commands, letting his lashes fall to his cheeks.

Kya moans, and there you are again. In this daydream, he has you on your back; one leg up on his shoulder, the other spread wide for him. He pushes in and out of your tight pussy a few times, watching your eyes go hooded before he sits up, kissing the ankle of the foot still propped on his shoulder. His eyes trail down your body; soft breasts bouncing with each thrust, his gaze burning a path down your stomach, landing to where his body meets yours. His mouth waters at the way your pussy glistens with need. It’s intoxicating and carnal, yet so soft and beautiful - he wants to taste you so badly. That’s when he shatters, opening his eyes to watch as his cum leaks from Kya’s mouth.

“Don’t swallow yet, filthy girl. Not until you show us,” he says through gritted teeth. The moment his orgasm is done he slides his cock free. He’s already soft, which is another thing that never happens to him.

Ya, I’ve slipped into insanity for sure!

“Open,” he commands. Kya opens her mouth and he leans forward and spits. With a nod towards the viewing window he says, “Show them.”

She turns her head towards the onlookers and he watches the way she squeezes her thighs together. This should be making Tommy absolutely feral, yet, it doesn’t. Staying in his dominant character, he grips his hand around her throat. “Eyes on me while you swallow, little cum princess.”

She plays her part equally well, keeping those dark brown eyes locked with his as she swallows, licks her lips and then swallows again. His dick doesn’t as much as budge; if anything, Tommy thinks it may have gotten smaller.

 Dude, what is wrong with you tonight? He says in his mind towards his cock.

“Thank you, sir,” Kya hums.

Tommy slides his thumb along her bottom lip gently, his voice softer now and just for her, “Can you get to the bed on your own while I close the curtain?”

She nods her head and smiles sweetly at him. He helps her stand and once he’s sure her legs are steady, he heads to the window. A few of the fellow exhibitionists give him a thumbs up before he shuts them out to do his aftercare in private with Kya. He pushes you out of his mind, focusing on getting some sugar into Kya and then pulls her into his arms. The two of them speak in quiet whispers as he checks in on her. 

“How are you feeling?”

She smiles up at him. “Really good. Thank you. I definitely needed this.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. “I have this room for a few hours so we can stay like this as long as you need. I need you to promise me you’ll call me if something changes, okay? I know what we did tonight can be a lot.”

“I promise,” she mutters, her eyelids getting heavy.

After a few more minutes of cuddling she pulls away from him and says she’s ready to go. Once they’re both dressed Tommy walks her out to the main area of the club, the two of them embrace in a tight hug before she leaves and he goes to his reserved booth. The second he’s alone he’s lost in thoughts of the girl from the gala. This isn’t the first time he’s been consumed by you, every quiet moment he has he finds himself thinking of you, of the things he should have said. Flirting and wooing women is easy for him, it always has been, but someone with quick wit and the ability to banter with him isn’t something that comes along often. 

That’s got to be what has me so turned around, he thinks to himself. It’s safer that she remains a fantasy, safer that I don’t know her name, safer that I can’t search for her and find out if she likes all of the things I do. 

[simpxxstan]

cannn i request a bff! Wonwoo with lots of pining and emotional constipation pls 🤍 love ur writings

anon requested: hiii can i please request a f2l wonwoo trope? Luv ur writings<3

this is a part of my 550 followers event, but requests are now CLOSED.

genre: sugary fluff, gamer!wonwoo, high school au, friends to lovers.

word count: 6.9k words.

listening to his voice asmr audios and leftover while writing this- can't you tell i just love wonwoo's voice? he's just such a warm hug personified! pls note: i've combined two requests here because they're similar! thank you to both anons for requesting! i'm so sorry again for the delay T_T i rewrote this many times. i hope you like it!!

warnings: very shy reader, gaming references (likely to be inaccurate due to lack of personal experience, please excuse!).

it's the last year of your high school, and yet it doesn't feel like so. you may have turned 18 early this year, but it doesn't feel like the year you graduate from school and move on to a higher, more independent direction in life.

or perhaps you're just not mature enough. not ready enough to embrace adulthood. either way, the intense fear of what the future holds has you by the throat since the start of the year. it's not that you're trying to escape from responsibilities, but somehow it daunts you to no end that you'll have to leave this cocoon you've lived in all your life. step out of your comfort zone and into the real world.

perhaps it's not a maturity thing. perhaps it's just an introvert thing.

you're quite sure none of your classmates feel this scared of the future right now. most of them have their career goals defined, ready to sit for entrance examinations, or write applications to foreign universities. most of them have had experiences bordering on the edge of adulthood already- like their first kiss, their first date, their first relationship. most of them have already figured out where they see themselves three or four years from now- even if it not perfectly, it's brilliant that they even see themselves four years from now.

you? you don't even know if you'll be able to make it on time to the first day of class. it's literally the last year of school, and you've still not mastered the art of not getting late due to extreme social anxiety on the first day of class. somehow you rush into class, ankles burning from running through the campus, moments before the teacher arrives. you notice that there are only two seats left available in the class- one in the first bench, and another towards the back. you wonder if you should be sitting in the front to make a good impression on the teachers on your first day, but then your friends wave to you from the back, and your decision is made for you.

just as you finally settle down, your nerves easing out with the flowing conversation with your friends, the teacher walks into the classroom, creating pin-drop silence instantly, but she's not alone.

"good morning, class. welcome your new classmate for this year." on hearing her words, you look up from the new book your friend's been showing you.

the book almost drops from your hands.

"hello! my name is jeon wonwoo. nice to meet you all!"

_

in this moment, you're so, so glad you didn't choose to sit in the first bench. in this moment, you're so, so glad you always stick to your friends who generally do the talking for you whenever you're outside your tight-knit friend circle. in this moment, you're so, so glad you're the most ordinary-looking girl in the class.

because all of these ensure jeon wonwoo doesn't even spare a glance at you. and if you can keep yourself in check, he will not spare a glance at you for the rest of the eleven months of the school year. it's anyway just one year. if you keep out of his sight for long enough, he'll forget you exist.

as you walk home that evening, you wonder why must the universe be so cruel to you that it's now decided to make jeon wonwoo enter your class? wasn't it enough that he tormented you every day after beating you at games, that now you would have to see him daily in your immediate periphery? wasn't it enough that he'd already stolen your heart when you knew nothing of him except his voice, that now you would have to also know how devastatingly handsome he is in real life?

on reaching home, you slump down in your gaming chair and turn on your desktop.

2 messages from jeonwonubokdeongeori

you sigh before clicking the discord popup open, your annoyance increasing tenfold on reading the texts.

how was your first school day? going to a new school is so daunting T_T

daunting? with that face? with those charms? with that obvious intelligence sparkling in his eyes that no teacher can resist? what a liar. but at least he's telling you now that he's going to a new school. you can't ask him the name of the school because you don't want him to get curious about your school in return. so you keep it neutral.

i bet it wasn't as bad as mine lol wanna play and get the stress out?

wonwoo's message comes instantly, and you feel yourself melting. it does sound like such a tempting idea, especially with the way your body is still high-strung from all the social exposure and new worries of the final academic year. you want to say no- you want to start distancing yourself from him, you want to ensure your crush doesn't become serious. and yet, you can't keep yourself away from clicking on the yes button when he sends you a request to join a game.

seconds later, his voice rumbles in slowly through the other side of the game. his player is wearing a yellow outfit today, similar to your school uniform. "hey," it's a single syllable but it sends a shiver of comfort down your spine, and you can feel your body relax. it's online. he doesn't know it's you. it's just a game between friends.

"hi won," you voice is a soft whisper, almost afraid that he'll recognise you. you're sure he won't, because you've made sure he hasn't heard your voice throughout the day- but even if he does, he doesn't indicate it in any way.

he chuckles on the other end. "you sound so tired. you probably need sleep more than a game." "i've been drinking too much soda- no way i'm gonna sleep soon," you stifle a yawn to keep talking to him. "mhmm, soda's not good for you, princess." princess. you know it's not a nickname, or meant to be endearing. he's simply referring to your username, pretzel_princess, which you go by during games. three days ago, you'd wished you'd used your own name as your username, just so you can hear him say your name while playing, although princess sounds good enough. but in hindsight, it's been the best decision you've ever made.

"jeon wonwoo, are you just stalling the game?" you smirk, and you hope he hears it in your voice.

he does.

"well then, game on, princess."

_

after that, you can't keep your eyes away from wonwoo. the initial shock has now worn down- and suddenly the reality seems more stark in full HD. he's right here- literally ten seats away from you. in all likelihood, you could just whisper and he would hear your voice.

and identify you at once.

and yet, you can't keep your eyes off him. he seems so.... different in real life, and yet exactly the same. you start linking every tiny bit of character you've learned about him till now to his real self.

like how he's complained to you multiple times about his poor eyesight- and you've scolded him about his terrible gaming addiction and how he should stop immediately, only for him to laugh it off. you can see how thick his glasses are, and how he has to squint often even with the glasses- and you make a mental note of scolding him again tonight.

like how he doesn't like swimming during the physical education classes- instead opting for athletics. he's told you before he has a fear of drowning, and now you witness this with your own eyes too.

like how he's an introvert too- keeping mostly to himself, although everyone is trying to get a piece of him. with his looks and his natural charm, you can hardly blame the girls and the guys for swarming around him every day. although it's barely been a week since he's joined, he's already solidified a fanbase- people who are ready to give him homework, their lunchboxes and also their hearts. it's no surprise though- you're no different than them. you were just a tad bit more pathetic- at least they hadn't fallen for him after hearing just his voice.

it feels like you're leading a double life. you've never been more thankful for your introvertedness- perhaps the only time you've been thankful for it. but this is the only way to ensure wonwoo doesn't know who you are. you do your best to ensure your friends don't get curious about him, and even if they do talk to him, you stay away from the spot at that moment. it's even better because none of the teachers know you by your name (you've never given them reason to), hence no one in class draws attention to you. your friends call you by a nickname (not princess), so even if they're calling out for you from a distance, wonwoo could never realise it's you.

well. things are not as bad as you'd think they would be.

unless of course, one counts the worsening of your infatuation. it's already been a while since you've known each other as ... online best friends. well, you'd been gaming together on the same server for a year now, but it was only eight months since you'd dm-ed him, and initiated a conversation, ignoring your shaky hands. thankfully, he'd replied almost instantly- and that had sparked things off. too fast, you'd gone from strangers who game together occasionally to friends you share your feelings and thoughts with. wonwoo had been surprisingly easy to open up to. perhaps because he resonated with most of your experiences? with him being as introverted and shy as you see him now, you'd understand why. or perhaps because you'd always thought he would be just an online friend- a voice behind a screen. never more tangible than that. and there was a comfort in that. no fear of judgement. no insecurity about your looks. no worries about embarrassment. and even when you had your voice on, conversation had flown easily, and so had giggles and intimate moments.

you slam your head against the textbook you're reading as you remember that night when you'd messed up. of course, your crush was nothing new. you'd slowly and surely begun to develop feelings for the gentle-voiced gamer who had won his way into your heart with his gaming skills and the softness with which he treated you. like how he would immediately catch on to any exhaustion in your voice. how he'd remember the little details you told him about your daily life. how he'd remind you to sleep instead of playing another match, because you'd have to wake up early the next day. sometimes, with your headphones on and wonwoo's voice floating in, you'd escape from this real world, away from the fears of your life, into a world where it felt like you were sitting with him, on a swing, in a playground. and sometimes, your imaginary world took you to a rollercoaster, him holding your hand as you both screamed with the adrenaline rushing to your head. and eventually, your imagination would take you to a world where you'd picture a faceless wonwoo hugging you after a long day of studies, just as his words comforted you with the similar warmth of a hug.

well, faceless no more.

your face heats up as your mind strays to the thought of hugging wonwoo. knowing he was so much taller than you, and so beautifully built even in the hideous school uniform, his hugs would absolutely engulf you and drown you in his warmth. you shake your head as you focus on your book again. you shouldn't be daydreaming about your online best friend. not when you don't even have the guts to own up and face him in real life.

_

the next month is largely uneventful. the novelty of wonwoo's presence slowly wears off, although his fanbase does not. but you've grown smart at avoiding him. with your study pressure mounting up, you both have lesser time to play games anyway, but whenever you do, you're bound to lose your sleep. because after two hours of just you and him, your noise-cancelling headphones focusing on every breath he takes and curse he utters while playing, your mind feels like levitating. he frequents your dreams on those nights- and you dream about an alternate reality where you can sit next to him in the library and hear his gentle voice from up close instead of simply through your headphones. where his laugh shakes up your desk and you can actually see the beautiful smile you know he must have on his face whenever you crack a silly joke and he laughs for you. where you can solve his maths sums with him, after he complains about finding them too hard.

you know you're being stupid. you have your college entrances coming up really soon, and you should move on from this silly crush of yours when you're not even brave enough to do anything about it. but you simply can't distance yourself from jeon wonwoo.

"what are you thinking about, princess? you're very quiet these days." his question isn't probing, but caring. "it seems like there's a lot on your mind."

you sigh. "there is, but i can't tell you."

"no? wonwoo's upset on hearing that."

you double take on hearing that. "it's nothing serious. just silly worrying. i don't want to dump on you-" "you're not dumping anything on me. if you keep stuff from me, i'll feel even more helpless and sad." you try to understand if there's any hint of fakeness in his voice, but you cannot hear anything except the slow rumble of genuineness in his voice.

"i- i can't tell you, wonwoo."

"is it about me?"

"what? no. no, no. why would i be upset about you?"

"i don't know. why else would you hide things from me?"

"ummm-"

"i won't push you. but i really want to help. i like hearing you laugh often, princess."

he doesn't raise the issue again during that match, but his words linger in your mind for longer than they should. it ends up distracting you during the game, and he tsks into the microphone.

"i'm seriously going to abort this game if you don't tell me why you're playing so badly. i thought we were friends."

best friends, you remember telling wonwoo two months back. you're the closest thing to a best friend that i have, won. and he'd said it back, his voice shy, me too, princess. i'm so glad i found you.

"you're not going to let this go, will you?" your voice is vulnerable, as his caring words really seep into the layer beneath your skin. "if you want me to, i will."

"then i do want you to. i'll talk about it when i'm ready, wonwoo."

he sighs, and you feel the sound of his breath send a shudder through your spine.

"as you want, princess."

_

it's midterms week and you're neck-deep in assignments, when wonwoo's call request comes in. you don't think twice before accepting it, knowing he's a great study partner.

"hey! are you busy with exams?" "so right i am." "yeah lol, me too. 'tis the season, huh?" he chuckles, and you grin. if you consider the fact that it's almost the end of two months and wonwoo still doesn't know you, then it makes you feel ... kinda good on the inside. like you're in a detective movie. like you're in a spy film.

"my brother says he wants to meet you." you almost choke on your coffee when you ask him, "what?!" "yeah, he said that he's heard enough about you, now he wants to see if you exist at all." "you can just tell him i exist-" "he doesn't believe me. says that i'm too loser to have a sweet girl friend like you."

sweet girl friend.

pretty sure wonwoo doesn't intend it to sound like the way it does, but it does make your skin burn up with an unbearable blush instantly. all your sleepiness is gone instantly, his words acting quicker than coffee, and you sit upright.

"you're not a loser. and you have plenty of female friends, i'm sure." "no, and no. princess, i play games on my computer every day, barely have a social life, and haven't gone on a date with anyone in my seventeen years of existence. i don't think you understand my loser level."

"and your brother has done all of this?" "you bet. he has a girlfriend and he's just fifteen. seems kinda illegal to me." you laugh. "as long as he isn't crossing lines, it's not illegal i guess." "hmm true. the point is- we're really very different, my brother and i. and i admit i am a loser... in real life."

you coo at him, your voice becoming softer. you can't imagine him having confidence issues- not when you've seen how perfect he literally is. "i think you're just overthinking. firstly, gamers aren't losers. secondly, you do have a social life. you have me. and you have those other friends you game and hang out wit-" "yes but seungcheol and mingyu are also losers. seungcheol is literally in college but hasn't been able to get laid yet." wonwoo's dead-serious words make you burst out laughing, and he joins in.

"i think it's just because you're all shy. it's okay! you know i'm super shy too." there's a pause before he replies, and you almost think you've lost your internet connection. "i don't think you're as shy as me, though." "there's no comparative metric, won."

another pause. "maybe. but i wish i wasn't like this. you know, you and i live in the same city, but we've never even planned to meet up or anything."

your pulse flutters in your neck. "but that's the charm of online friendships! we connect so well, but just talking online is enough, isn't it?"

"yes... but don't you ever get curious?"

you're moments away from a meltdown. you want to confess your secret and run away from the desktop at the same time- because you're sure he's recognised you. but thankfully he replies before you do. "but then again, i wouldn't ever be able to face you because of how often you've beaten me in overwatch." and his laugh breaks the tension and you take a deep breath of relief. fuck. that was close.

_

"wonwoo, you were right when you'd told me you'll need some help in pre-calc. i understand that the curriculum in your previous school was slightly behind ours here, which is why your foundation is a bit weak. don't worry, smart boys like you catch up in no time." you'd barely paid attention to your math teacher's ramblings, eager to pack up your bag and leave for home. it's finally the end of the class day, and you're excited for the weekend. you also know wonwoo's birthday is tomorrow, and you've bought a new character for him on the game you're both obsessing on currently, and you can't wait to hear his excited, high-pitched giggle tonight when he receives his gift mid-match.

"y/n and seori, i want you to discuss amongst yourselves who would like to tutor wonwoo in his pre-calculus foundations for the rest of this term. you'll receive extra marks for this on my paper, so i request you to take this seriously."

your bag slips from your fingers, as you look up, an ashen look on your face. it's clear that your teacher wants you to take this up with the way she's got her eyes fixed on you even as seori has already stepped up to her. thankfully she speaks before you need to. "i'll do it, ma'am. y/n, i hope that's okay with you? i really need the extra marks," she whispers the last bit to you, and you let out a sigh of relief as you nod your approval. you look away from seori to see wonwoo's eyes on yours, and you panic for a moment. but there's no sign of recognition. just a mild curiosity and confusion flash in his pretty eyes, before you avert your eyes and walk out of the classroom.

it's probably a coincidence, you tell yourself as you walk back home, your heart still racing from the close escape you made mere minutes ago. it was bound to happen some time or the other, you console yourself, you're lucky to have avoided it for two entire months anyway. but as soon as you reach home and switch on your desktop, you see a notification flash.

4 messages from jeonwonubokdeongeori

what can he have to say? what if he has actually recognised you? you gulp, your palms sweaty as you click it open.

hey can we skip tonight's gaming session? i have a small gaming party with my friends tonight and then they'll be coming over for a sleepover

oh, must be a birthday celebration.

sorry if you were looking forward to it :(

you were looking forward to it. you've spent a solid bit of your savings from your pocket money to buy it for him, and you'd really looked forward to, well, hearing his reaction. but you wouldn't dream of barging into his plans.

ooh it's not a big deal at all! i hope you have fun, wonu <3

you see him come online instantly, and you're hit with panic. maybe you shouldn't have sent the heart. it was overstepping boundaries, wasn't it?

i'll make it up to you, princess ^^

god. he knows too damn well how to make your heart flutter.

or maybe you can come along and join the party? you already know seungcheol, right? it'll just be him and a couple of my other friends. jungkook and mingyu. they're really fun too hehe

the panic rises in your throat again. fuck. you remember exactly what happened the last time you joined a gaming party with wonwoo and seungcheol. and you've spent the entire last month trying to erase it from your memory, and if you could, really, from wonwoo's memory too. so you're pretty quick to turn him down.

nah i think i'll pass have fun tho!

and then you go offline to avoid spiralling into your thoughts, and get into studies. which is actually what you should be doing, instead of gaming with your crush anyway.

_

silence.

radio fucking silence.

there's just the pitter patter of the rain outside, but no replies from wonwoo.

i like hearing you laugh.

i'm glad i found you.

sweet girl friend.

it all feels like a lie when you stare for hours at the unseen, unread, unopened message that's staring back at you from your chat with wonwoo. it's almost night, one would think he could text back with a simple thank you after you'd spent half your pocket money on buying him the new character.

or maybe wonwoo is just like all the other boys. what did you even expect? that he'd be rolling over in gratitude after you buy him something he's been audibly craving for for weeks now? that he'd confess his love for you after you stupidly purchase something for him that has no real value?

get out of your damned imaginary world, y/n, you chide yourself mentally as you wipe the lone tear that has begun sliding down your cheek. but it doesn't make sense! after all these months of getting to know wonwoo, you simply can't believe it that he's this heartless that he won't even have the courtesy of replying back after almost an entire day of receiving the gift. and you know it's not an unwanted gift. and you also know wonwoo isn't the type to ghost you either! you'd think he's busy or caught up in something- but you can the little text next to his discord icon showing that he's been online today. then there's really no logical explanation left that can explain this kind of beha-

oh.

of course.

of course! he must have found out who you are. fuck. maybe during the delivery of the character, they must have shown him your email address or something to show them who's send him the gift. and that would be a total giveaway because your email address definitely contains your name. either he's put two and two together and matched princess with y/n, and naturally, instantly felt repulsed by you- hence the lack of response.

or.... (and this is honestly the worse option) he thinks you're just y/n who's sending him a birthday gift that miraculously coincides with something he really wants. oh my god. this really is much worse than the other alternative because now he thinks of you as a creep who can't even meet his eyes in class but must be stalking him and finding out about his gaming hobby.

another slow tear rolls down your cheek, and the phone drops from your hands and crashes down on the tiled floor, the screen cracking from side-to-side.

at this point, you should just drop out from school.

_

but of course you don't. monday comes round, and so does your period. you've never been more thankful for cramps before today. at least it saves you from the embarrassment of facing wonwoo. as you toss and turn in pain on your bed all day, trying fruitlessly to read your study material, your mind keeps going back to one face.

a single, delicately created face, with eyes that look alive. complete with a simple pair of metal glasses, shining against the spots of barely-there acne on two cherub cheeks.

you shake your head and dump your books on your lap. there's no point in this. it's a risk you've taken from the first day when you'd decided to hide from him instead of coming out as your true self. who knows, perhaps he wouldn't have rejected your friendship so blatantly then? instead, you try to sleep. maybe that'll help you feel refreshed.

but oh, you're not even left relieved in your sweet sleep. a single scene keeps replaying in your head as soon as you shut your eyes.

it was the first time you were in a live gaming party with voice unmuted. wonwoo, two of his friends, and two other friends from the common gaming server, smera and roy. he'd convinced you to switch on your mic because it was just friends who you trusted anyway. well, that was just the first mistake.

the second mistake had been, of course, to get comfortable enough with all of them to agree to play that silly truth and dare game. and then one thing had led to another, and a little bit of prodding from smera had ended up with you confessing that if there was anyone in this group who you'd kiss, it'd be wonwoo. if the mortification of that wasn't bad enough, smera had gone ahead and said that she'd even lowkey expected it. and within moments everyone else had forgotten your confession- it was as if they didn't even know how hard it had been to admit it- when rob confessed that he really want to kiss mingyu right now and the group started cheering.

the third mistake, and the worst one, had been staying on call with wonwoo after the party was over. "so you'd kiss me, huh?" he'd asked softly, his voice laced with a grin, as you'd blushed and thanked god he couldn't see you right now in your embarrassed live wire state. "among the others, yes. i don't know the others as well as i know you!" you'd rushed to explain, hoping your voice wasn't quivering as fast as your heartbeat. and then wonwoo had gone silent for a very long time, before saying, "and what if we knew each other outside this world, y/n? would you kiss me then?"

and then you hadn't been able to reply. you'd frozen in your spot, until wonwoo's shy laugh could be heard and he'd resumed the game.

you don't know if you could still reply today. perhaps it's the secret you'll hang for.

_

your excuse only lasts so long and eventually it's wednesday and you make your way out of bed. you've mentally lectured yourself enough times to know all the different things wonwoo might have to say to you and you've armed responses for most of them (although you think you're going to end up running away in almost all of them, forgetting your practiced response in the spur of the moment). your first class in mathematics, and you decide to arrive just a few minutes late so as to avoid any chance of conversation with wonwoo before class.

"oh y/n, you're finally here." your legs falter as you appear at the door of the classroom and find your teacher looking you straight in the eye. "sorry i'm late, ma'am!" "it's okay. i'd thought you'd be absent again." "i wasn't feeling well, ma'am, i'd mailed-" "yes yes i know," she nods her head impatiently. "it's good you came today. you'll have to start tutoring wonwoo from today itself. mid-terms are in two weeks, and i want his level to improve by then." "i thought seori...?" "seori isn't professional enough, from what wonwoo's told me."

it's only at this point that you realise that there's another pair of eyes focused on you in a piercing gaze. you know who it is, and you try your best to avert your glance.

not professional? you wonder what that may mean.

"fix up a timing for the sessions, and please don't disappoint me, y/n." she says the last bit with a pleading tone in her voice, and you wince. "alright, ma'am."

_

all through the class, there's only one thing playing in your mind on loop. you. wonwoo. in the tutoring room. alone. for the next two weeks. fix up a timing for the sessions. don't disappoint me. your lower lip wobbles and you can feel the tears inching in your eyes slowly. expectations. disappointment. aren't you just a disappointment to everyone? to your parents. to your teachers. to yourself.

even to wonwoo.

if you hadn't kept your head down for the entirety of the class, gazing at the sight outside the window, your attention completely unfocused from class, you would've noticed a figure turning to look at you whenever the teacher has her back to the class. but you don't notice him, so you don't realise his eyes fixed on you when you make a dash out of class as soon as the teacher leaves the classroom. you want to escape the inevitable for just another day- defer it, rather. you know it's going to be torture when wonwoo finally accosts you. as you make your way to a corner in the school, a secluded spot near the roof, where you've never seen anyone else going except yourself, a flurry of thoughts float in your head. all thoughts that should ideally deter you from running away. but you do it nonetheless, because you can't think straight. you feel the tangible cloud of these worries clog your throat as you hide in your favourite hideout corner and cover your face with your hands as you feel the fresh wind blow onto your heated skin.

he's going to hate you more now because you're delaying the academic help he deserves, simply because of your stupid nerves.

he's likely going to complain against you to the teachers, how you've taken academic responsibilities casually, and mar your good academic record and rapport with teachers. fuck, that's a further lower chance of getting the LORs you need.

he's also likely going to talk about what a creepy stalker you truly are in your mutual gaming circles, and you'll be ousted from the one safe space, your hobby, the one place where you've felt unjudged, the only place you can be yourself.

fuck. fuck. f-

"how long are you going to hide from me, princess?"

you freeze on spot. the voice is unmistakable, it's haunted your dreams long enough. you can feel a warmth in your periphery and you know he's right behind you. the hair on the back of your neck rise up into goosebumps and you know you've been caught.

you turn around slowly, your eyes fixed to the ground. you see wonwoo's sparkling white sneakers standing close to yours, and in the silence of this secluded spot, you can hear his breathing, slow and steady, completely contrasting your own shallow, frenzied breathing.

"i d- don't kn-know what you're t-talking a-about." you stutter through every word, your skin burning up with the keen awareness of wonwoo catching you red-handed.

"so that's how it going to be?" you can see his toes edge slightly forward, as if he's rocking in his shoes. and then you start to feel slightly less tensed. you start to focus on the tone he's using- it's not particularly menacing. in fact, it's not angry at all. which is surprising because-

"are you mad at me, princess?"

this time you look up, and you're hit with the force of wonwoo's beautiful eyes looking straight at you from barely any distance. with his height, he's easily towering over you, his glasses making his gaze more stern... and yet the way he's looking at you, it's so... soft? how odd that he's asking you if you're mad at him, when truly, it's quite the opposite.

"i sh-should be asking y-you that."

"me?" he tilts his head to one side in query, eyebrows furrowing. "i could never be mad at you."

your voice quivers as you speak the next words, "but you now know who i am."

"and?"

"that's why you're avoiding me!"

"that's true." you take a step back at his words. "so you do admit it, wonwoo?"

"i do. if you're referring to my lack of communication in this last few days, then it is true. i won't blame it on any excuse except my own conscious behaviour."

god. he's going to just say it like that. straightforward. no roundabouts. no sugarcoating. perhaps it's better like that. will save you the pain of hope after the heartbreak.

you look straight into wonwoo's eyes. "i get it, wonwoo. i've disappointed you. and you regret ever making friends with you. because i'm not popular, nor smart, nor attractive. you know how you'd wished if we could ever meet in real life? the truth is, now you're glad you didn't follow along that plan, otherwise you'd regret it terribly."

"i do regret it." he lifts his hand to brush your bangs out of your eyes. you almost jerk at his touch, but it's too gentle. when it gently wisps along your cheek, it feels... almost familiar. how cruel of him to do this before he's going to reject you outright. how cruel of him to give you a taste of heaven before leaving you heartbroken.

"why are you doing this, wonwoo? can't you leave me alone?"

his hand frames your cheek, cupping it barely, and you want to lean into his touch. when his cold palm slowly begins getting warmer through your touch, he speaks again. "i regret not meeting you sooner, princess. or rather, y/n. i regret not following up on that, y/n, because that way you'd never think such mean things about yourself. not just are you being mean to yourself, but also you're being mean to me!"

"to you?" your eyes grow wide, and a small smile plays on wonwoo's lips. "yes. you're not giving me a chance to explain myself. i'm sorry for disappearing on you after my birthday." he pauses, and you just raise your eyebrows, waiting for the explanation he's so desperate to give.

"yes, well. dumb move on my part. but then- i didn't know how to react after you sent that character to me!"

"how did you know it was me?"

"the mail id?"

"yes. damn, yes. i knew it."

he chuckles, "but i knew that you were princess long before that." "you did?" "seungcheol's sister goes to this school, you know? she'd recognised your voice immediately." you gasp at his words, "but you're still not letting me finish."

you take a step back, suddenly reeled back to reality. you try to move your face away from his hands, and his left hand drops from your cheeks, only to grab on to your wrist even as you step away. "i was stupid. i didn't know if you sending me the gift was... just friendly or something more. and just because i feel something more doesn't mean you will reciprocate it."

"what do you mean?" your voice is softer now, glazed with curiosity.

"the reason why i disappeared on you was because i needed time to think my way through with how i wanted to approach this with you. and convincing our math teacher to get you, her favourite student, to tutor me was the easiest way out ever." there's another chuckle, but your mind is spinning.

"approach what with me? wonwoo?"

he takes another step towards you, his hand slipping lower than your wrist and holding your palm now, inches away from locking his fingers around yours.

"i like you, y/n. don't you know that already?"

your mind whirls again, and you blink for a few seconds. "what?!" he blinks back at you, equally shocked. "i thought it was obvious, y/n. do you think i play games with any girl every night? share every life update with any girl every night? can't go to sleep without hearing the voice of any girl every night?"

"won-wonwoo..."

"so tell me now, please. spare me the heartbreak and tell me why you sent me that gift."

it feels surreal, but wonwoo's racing pulse against your fingers makes you realise that he's real. this is real. this is happening. wonwoo likes you.

"of course i like you wonwoo. i even told you i'd kiss you. wasn't that a giveaway enough?"

"you said that because i was the only one you'd kiss in a room full of other friends... but it didn't mean anything!" he's quick to protest, and your heart melts. maybe wonwoo is shier than you'd thought. so you take a step closer to him, and link your fingers into his finally. "well now you know what it means."

_

three bunked classes later, you and wonwoo make your way back to the main classroom area of the school. the rush of adrenaline in your body is insane right now, because you're holding hands with wonwoo. with wonwoo! you don't think you can believe it, so you keep looking down at your hands to make sure its real.

"i wish i'd met you before y/n. i was so desperate to know you more! it was so obvious," wonwoo's low giggles are music to your ears as he leans in to whisper his sweet words. "i thought that's why you kept running away from me." his hand slips out of your lock, and around your waist, pulling you in gently. you gasp at his move, and look around quickly to see if anyone's looking. but thankfully, there's no one in the corridors right now, so you let his hand remain there.

"i kept hiding because i was worried how you'd react on knowing the real me, won." "but i knew the real you already. sight isn't our only sense, you know." "yes, but i'm not-" "i don't care what you're not. there's so many things i'm not. and yet, you say that you like me. so what matters is you and me, don't you think?" you turn your head up to look at him, blushing at the fond look in his soft eyes. you want to hug him, pull him towards you and never let him go. but you settle for leaning closer into his body for now.

"i was promised a tutoring session, you know." he says slowly, as you realise you're both walking towards the isolated tutoring room of the school. it's empty right now, because it's still class hours. "do you want to be tutored now?" you raise your eyebrows, concerned at his wish to break out of this precious moment you're having and instead study. "i want to be in the tutoring room right now. there are no cctvs, see." you spin around to quickly check, blushing at the way he's whispering into your ear. but before you can turn back to him and reply, you feel a wet peck on your cheek, and your body bursts into flames.

jeon wonwoo just kissed you.

"wonwoo!"

"what? did you not like it?" he whispers, slightly alarmed.

"no! just! warn a girl before you do things like this, you know." you try to hide your blush furiously, but fail, as he wraps you into his embrace. "there are no other girls to warn. only you. and i don't need to warn you. because now you know i do things like this." and he leans in again, and before you realise, he's left a kiss on your nose. your heart races as you avert your gaze, and you're both erupting into giggles. "you're really a menace, jeon wonwoo." he cups your face with his hands, looking right into your eyes.

"and you're my princess, y/n."

[p0orbaby]

i would love something from the “Spark Enough and Something Catches” universe 🥹 was so happy for R allowing herself to be more vulnerable, would love to know how those two cuties are doing further down the line!

-

You never thought you’d end up here—dating a world-famous footballer with legs for days and a laugh that makes your chest feel weird, but here you are, sitting at your kitchen table, staring at a bouquet of flowers she sent you. Just because she can. Of course, they’re perfectly arranged, like something out of a magazine that you’d flip through absentmindedly in a dentist’s office, all pastels and thoughtful greenery. You wouldn’t even be surprised if the florist’s apprentice cried while tying the ribbon, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of their creation.

The card attached? “Hope these brighten your day, even if you don’t like football. xo, A.”

You’ve been staring at it for about 15 minutes, wondering if this is what people in normal, functional relationships do. Get flowers. Smile. Maybe cry a little, but the good kind. You’d text a thank you, but you’ve already said thanks for the dinner last night, the ride home, and her cooking, which honestly made you feel inadequate. You are now 90% sure you’ve been overthanking her for everything and it’s becoming suspicious. God, the flowers. What are you supposed to do with these? You don’t even own a proper vase.

She’s always surprising you, though. It’s her thing. Like when she made pancakes at 3 a.m. because you mentioned offhand you were craving something sweet, and there she was in your kitchen, half-asleep but determined, whisking batter like her life depended on it. You tried to help, but she gave you that look—half-amused, half-“don’t you dare”—so you just sat and watched. How does someone like her, so capable and graceful on the field, manage to make something as simple as cooking pancakes seem like a scene from a romantic comedy?

And then there’s you, a certified mess, who can barely manage to keep the houseplants alive. You once killed a succulent, a plant specifically designed to withstand neglect, and you still don’t know how it happened. But she didn’t care about that. She just laughed when you told her, like she found it charming. Like that was somehow endearing instead of a flashing neon sign that you have no business being trusted with anything living.

The first time she came over to your place, she brought dinner—because, of course, she did—and you remember her standing in your tiny kitchen, eyeing the pile of dishes in the sink. You were mortified, but she just rolled up her sleeves and started washing them. “I can’t concentrate with these staring at me,” she said, and that was that. It took you five whole minutes to figure out how to process that. What kind of person does that? And why does she keep looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room, when you’re 99% sure you’re the human equivalent of a cat that’s just fallen off the sofa?

You get the feeling she knows what she’s doing, though. She’s patient. Calculated. Like on the field, but now the game’s you, and she’s just waiting for you to realize you’re already cornered. She’s not wrong. You’re screwed.

So, you text her, finally, trying to play it cool. “Thanks for the flowers, very thoughtful. You didn’t have to.”

Her reply is almost immediate. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to”

You stare at the message. Of course she did.

[heeseungiez]

RESOLUTION 2) not be a virgin anymore...

pairings! sim jake x fem!reader; mentions of heeseung x reader

synopsis! sim jake has always liked you, but as heeseung’s best friend, he felt weird trying to talk to you. now, with the rules around you loosening, jake refuses to miss his chance to win you over.

content warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), swearing, blowjob, loss of virginity and other smut things but it’s pretty mild

word count! ~8.4k

taglist! OPEN! send an ask to be added!

a/n! i did my best… i hope you guys like it

masterlist | next

Good morning, Decelis!

What’s up with you guys? Things have been really boring these days.

XO, Miss Decelis

You wanted to kill Lee Heeseung.

It had been a month since your shared moment at the party, but you were still dealing with the aftermath, having to wear turtlenecks or bother with makeup to cover the hickeys he gave you. You hated it. The reminder of what you had done and with whom. You hated the way he would smirk upon seeing you in class, in the hallways, or whenever you ran into each other at the hotel — you weren’t even safe at the place that should be your home.

Lee Heeseung was everywhere, as far as you were concerned. You were convinced that not only could he find you anywhere if he wanted to, but he could appear from behind a corner at any moment simply to taunt you with his presence. He didn’t even need to speak to annoy you.

This — whatever game the two of you were playing — was far worse than when he did everything in his power to annoy you. Because now, all you could think about was how it would feel to actually lose your virginity to him. You wondered if it would have happened at the party, had you not been interrupted.

You scoffed when Heeseung sat down in class in front of you. You could see the lopsided grin on his lips through the back of his head. But neither of you said a word to each other. Because, despite everything, Heeseung was still keeping his reputation of a careless asshole who ignored you at school (you were the only person noticing the subtle actions that revealed he was doing the very opposite).

On the other hand, when Sim Jake walked past you to join Heeseung at the same desk, he didn’t do so before shooting you a huge grin and saying: “Hello, Y/N. How are you doing today?”

Within the group of Heeseung, Jay and Jake, the latter was the only one who didn’t blatantly disregard you before last summer. He always made time for small talk with you, approaching you at random events whenever he noticed you were alone. He was nice, in your opinion. His only downside was the fact that his best friends were Heeseung and Jay, really. Layla, his dog, almost made up for that fault in his character though.

“Hey,” you responded with a thin-lipped smile, incapable of resisting the boyish charm that Sim Jake embodied. “I’m good. Just tired.”

“Oh yeah. Assignments have been pretty killer lately,” Jake agreed, running a hand through his hair. Heeseung glanced between the two of you, squinting his eyes. “There’s a project I gotta finish for physics, and it’s been the worst. Like, I love the subject but, jeez, Mr Kang is totally doing his best to make me hate it.”

“Maybe you’d do better if you didn’t spend all your time talking about holes.” Heeseung’s innuendo was not lost on either of you, but Jake was fairly unbothered by it, shaking his friend off with a roll of his eyes.

“Maybe if you weren’t so ignorant, you’d know black holes are one of the most fascinating topics in physics,” Jake said matter-of-factly. “So excuse me if I’d rather have a presentation on that.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips at seeing Jake so bothered over physics. He might not look like it with his never-faltering flirtatious smile and those big puppy eyes, but there was clearly a nerdy side to the boy that you had never known about before. You liked this about him — you liked this change in him of finally approaching you more freely, too.

Jake’s eyes were fixated on you, drinking in your soft laugh and your new appearance.

See, Sim Jake always thought that you were pretty. Even when Heeseung and Jay seemed unimpressed, he always stopped to appreciate you. He just wasn’t sure how exactly to act around you when his friends’ feelings toward you were much different than his. But lately, they stopped complaining about every little thing you did (frankly, Jake thought they were obsessed with you and in denial since middle school). To Jake, that meant he could finally talk to you without the fear of being overly judged by his closest friends. Even now, when he spoke to you, Heeseung didn’t look as disapproving as he would’ve last year. He just minded his business on his phone aside from the few snide remarks.

“I think I’ll miss out on that one,” you said with a slight shake of your head.

It wasn’t a secret that you were not a fan of anything natural science related. Maths was your limit. Your preference lied within humanities, like sociology and psychology. The reasoning behind it was perhaps far too obvious, but you liked to pretend that you simply enjoyed learning about human behaviours, and why people acted the way they did.

Like with Jake, who had always been a bit apprehensive around you, especially when Heeseung and Jay were around. But Heeseung didn’t care anymore (if that’s what you could call it), and so Jake felt at ease speaking to you casually because he was abstained from judgement.

“That’s fine. We don’t really need to talk to have fun.” The suggestive tone made your brow raise, and when you glanced at Heeseung, the boy tensely gripped his pen. Turning his head to look at Jake, he narrowed his eyes.

From your point of view, it could be interpreted in many different ways, but you knew Heeseung could not possibly be jealous of Jake’s harmless flirting with you. It was a warning nevertheless, though, to leave you alone. Jake only understood the part where it was a warning, however, fearing that he might get an earful about it later.

He sat down, still glancing at you with another shiny smile of his, and you returned it.

“Good morning, class,” the C1 English teacher, Miss Crawford, entered the class with a stack of worksheets and files in her arms. The class stood to greet her with a bow, and she motioned for them to sit down with a smile. “Let us not dally, shall we?” she asked, giving the stack of sheets to the students closest to her to pass them on. “Each of you should keep one. Look at it, and while you do, I will prepare the instructions on the board.”

The sheet didn’t have much on it, when you got one of your own. It was mostly blank aside from the few topics on top. You recognised them as conversation topics from the textbook you got for this class.

“For the next hour, the task at hand is fairly simple,” Miss Crawford began speaking once the board was lit up with her simple presentation. “As you all know, speaking is one of the many parts of the C1 level English exams to acquire a certificate, and for today, we will focus on exactly that. Talking about a specific topic and the flow of conversation between two people. In C1 level exams, it isn’t only important to be fluent and have expansive vocabulary on your own. The reason behind the speaking exams being in pairs is to test the speaker’s ability to stop themselves from talking and give the other person the room to speak as well by asking follow-up questions.

“For that reason, I have paired all of you up on my own rather than letting you converse in pairs of your own choosing. It is better to test your abilities with someone you aren’t entirely comfortable with to help your sociability and further your chances at scoring full points in conversation.”

Miss Crawford shuffled through her papers to find the sheet that contained the pairs she assigned. The first person she looked at was you, gracing you with a smile. “I also took into account your English skills as a whole to make balanced pairs for today’s lesson. So the first pair would be Miss Y/N and Mr Sim,” she announced.

Jake turned to you instantly, sporting the look of an excited puppy. No one else mattered after that, except for Jake who moved to sit down next to you.

You barely registered it when Miss Crawford spoke again with more information. “By the end of the class, I hope you’ll get more comfortable with each other, as at the end of the term, I am going to conduct a speaking exam of my own to see if you’re making progress. For that reason, pairings are subject to change, however, I do want you and your initial partners to continue working together on other projects for the remainder of this term. That is why I cared about the balance in each pair, to make sure neither would end up doing all the work.”

The glance at Heeseung was obvious and, in your opinion, quite scathing. You enjoyed watching him squirm with the tiniest bit of guilt in his expression under Miss Crawford’s gaze. His partner for the project was Kim Seungmin, and you actually couldn’t believe how well acquainted the teacher was with all of your English skills. There had to be so much work outside of school going into all this planning. Not to mention, if anything, Kim Seungmin would never let anything slide, let alone having to do an entire project for Heeseung. He was the type of guy to rather have them both fail.

Jake, although listening to everything that was said, kept staring at you and your beautiful features. The way your hair framed your face. A few strands of hair kept falling into your eyes and he wanted to push it away. Something about this new you was so irresistibly alluring to him that all he could think about was how it would feel to kiss your red-stained lips.

If he had the tiniest bit of a crush on you in the past, then it’s come back tenfold now. He wanted to test how much of you has truly changed. Whether you would accept him now despite being nothing like his other friends. He wasn’t like Heeseung or Jay, the careless kings of the school, and neither was he like Sunghoon, the hot scholarship kid who could figure skate.

Jake was just Jake. The guy who had a whole room dedicated to his collection of expensive Lego and his powerful PC setup to play video games.

Sure, he had hooked up with girls in the past — he was just a guy, after all — but he didn’t want you to be one of those girls. He knew that if he was going to have you, it would have to be something more. He would cherish you and make sure that you were never hurt again (a promise he can’t really keep).

And he’d fuck you so good.

“Let’s start then.” You turned toward Jake to fully face him with a smile on your face. “All of these topics are absolutely ass, but at least they’re standardised.” You spoke, oblivious to the thoughts running through Jake’s mind.

Perhaps for now, it was better that way.

Working on a presentation with Jake was the easiest thing in the world. This was genuinely the first time you took a class and didn’t end up doing all the work on your own because you were the ‘perfect princess’ and ‘teacher’s pet’ who cared about a good grade. And even if your groups did some of the work, it was the worst, least effort possible, type of contribution known to man. So when Jake kept hitting you with ideas about what you could do in your presentation, what could be said, adding more pages to your research, you couldn’t help the incessant need to just plant your lips on his to show your appreciation.

And a part of you thought: you could do exactly that. The library was empty enough with the two of you being among the last students still bothering to stay there. Besides, you noticed the way Jake looked at you. In a way, it was more innocent than whenever you caught Heeseung staring at you, but you knew that the thoughts were all the same.

“I’m tired,” Jake whined, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms and legs on the seat. “My fingers hurt. Let’s take a short break,” he said, catching the soft smile on your lips.

“We could just go home, Jake,” you pointed out, tapping the screen of your phone to show him the time as if you both didn’t have your laptops open for research.

“I don’t feel like going home yet, though.” Jake licked his lips, shaking his head.

“You like spending time with me that much, huh?” You grinned teasingly, but the genuine look on Jake’s face momentarily shut you up.

“Kinda, yeah,” he replied, tilting his head to the side. “Being with the other guys is still the same thing over and over again. You know how annoying it is whenever they start complaining about their sex lives?” Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Like, I’m not against having a good fuck but they act like they don’t hit it at least once a week.”

“TMI, Jakey,” you said, raising a brow at him. But then something occurred to you, and you wanted to know more. “They complain? What exactly about?”

“Well, Heeseung’s been pretty frustrated lately because, apparently, there’s a girl he wants but she doesn’t want him.” Jake shrugged, completely unaware of what information he was giving you.

You had to suppress your smirk at the thought of Lee Heeseung possibly being frustrated over you. Though his sex life had hardly been boring since the party because Miss Decelis has been diligently reporting on all of his spotted escapades, which included him not-so-discreetly getting out of an empty classroom with some girl from senior year recently.

“Interesting,” you hummed.

“Jay’s been getting shit since fucking a MILF, so yeah…” Jake continued with a shake of his head. “Says all the girls at school are too soft for him, whatever the fuck that means.”

“We both know what that means,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Jake, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“Fair.” You nodded, leaning on your elbow as you stared at Jake. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you hooked up with someone recently?” you asked, biting your lip. His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips, and then back up with a gulp.

The way Jake’s cheeks instantly heated up was adorable. He was far from innocent (Miss Decelis knowledge), but he was easily taken off guard, and you liked to take advantage of it.

“Pretty sure it’d be Miss Decelis hot news if I did,” he said.

“Not everyone is caught, Jake,” you pointed out with a lazy smile, moving closer. You doing the flirting was perhaps the most unlikely thing in the world, but you liked discovering this new side of yourself.

“Most of the time, they are,” Jake spoke sagely.

“But we don’t have to be,” you said confidently, leaning in close enough to feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. “I know a well hidden spot in the library,” you added, not divulging further (the only reason you had the secret spot was to hide, back in the days).

“Y/N—” Jake wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, he absolutely wanted this. But on the other, he was confused as to why. His goal was to possibly make you fall in love with him and this was most certainly not a part of the plan. Not yet, anyway.

You mistook the confusion in his eyes for rejection. Pulling away from him, you pressed your lips into a thin line, cringing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I suppose you don’t—”

You didn’t finish the sentence with Jake pulling at your wrist to make your lips collide with his. Yours melded into his perfectly, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip in a silent question for permission, and you granted it eagerly, enjoying the heat that consumed your insides as Jake kissed you with fervour.

He had a dream like this once. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t dreaming now, having fallen asleep after all the work you two had been doing.

But then you pulled away from Jake, eyes glassy with lust, and you tugged at his hand innocently, like you two were in kindergarten and you wanted to show him the new toy you got for your birthday. Except when Jake let you lead him away from your table, it was to your secret spot. A place entirely covered by shelves with books at the back of the library — the part of it that nobody ever visited unless they were desperate.

You pushed him against the closest wall, planting your lips on Jake’s again, and he reciprocated it gratefully, his fingers tangling in your soft hair. His dick was already hard for you, and you had barely done anything. It was obvious when you leaned into him, and there was something you wanted to try.

Jake whimpered when your lips left his, and his eyes grew wide when you dropped to your knees without warning, undoing the belt of his trousers. “Y/N, what are you—”

You stopped your action mid-pulling his pants down to look up at him. “Jake, if you don’t want this—”

“No, no, no, no, I want this. Of course, I want this, I’ve always wanted this.” He shook his head, breathless and in disbelief over your figure kneeling in front of him.

“Always? That’s a strong word,” you said, a smirk plastered on your lips. But you were curious. So when you pulled down Jake’s trousers and boxers, letting his dick out, you stopped to stare. Mind you, you’ve never seen a dick up close before. This was your first time, and his was majestic. “Define always, Jakey.” You licked your lips at the precum on his tip and kept yourself from leaning in to kiss it.

“Since I met you.” With the air hitting his length, he was growing impatient. He wanted your warm mouth wrapped around it as soon as possible, but you were obviously not going to indulge him until your curiosity was satiated. “I always thought you were cute when we were kids. And then we started high school, and you were beautiful. Remember that time I didn’t approach you at all and you thought Heeseung and Jay got to me? Yeah, I was just scared of talking to you… and then… I mean now… you’re—”

“Hot?” Your brow lifted, and Jake nodded, breathless.

“More than that. You’re ethereal, Y/N.”

“Damn, you really want this.” You giggled, but nothing stopped you from finally kissing Jake’s tip, listening to the pornographic moan that left his mouth at the slightest contact with your tongue. It urged you further, wrapping your mouth around him fully to test the waters and how well he fit in your mouth.

He tasted delicious.

This had to be Jake’s weakest moment. You barely touched him, and he already wanted to cum. But he knew the sight of you with your mouth full of his cum would make for a memory that would last him a lifetime.

You were testing yourself and your limits as you pushed his dick deeper into your throat until you could barely breathe, tears welling in your eyes. But it wasn’t enough, your hands would still have to do the rest. This was a learning experience for you, so after having a few more tastes of Jake, you pulled away to look up at him properly. To see his ruined expression as he still fought the confusion within him with pleasure.

“If I do anything wrong, please tell me,” you whispered, your hand moving to take Jake’s length, stroking a few times. “I’ve never done this before. So let me know, okay?”

Jake could barely speak as his eyes latched onto you, but he nodded regardless. He wanted to say you weren’t doing anything wrong nor were you going to. And he whimpered when he could feel the warmth of your mouth around him again. Though this time, you also incorporated your hand, moving in the same rhythm as your mouth to take care of whatever was too much for you.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Y/N,” Jake breathed out the longer you went on, saliva coating his dick and your fingers. He dug his nails into your hair, but didn’t push, letting you move freely. You didn’t even need him to tell you anything. “You’re perfect,” he managed between moans as he felt the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat.

His hips moved along with you, and Jake wanted to hold out for as long as possible to make the most of his pleasure and whatever the hell was going on right now.

Your free hand began playing with his balls, and that started to be too much for him. When you palmed him, he wanted to scream your name for the whole library to hear him, but he couldn’t do that. “I’m close, Y/N, holy fuck, just let me—” He wanted to finish outside your mouth just in case, but you didn’t let him go, staring up at him while your lips were still wrapped around his cock, going up and down.

There was silence as Jake interpreted your look. That you wanted to take him, taste all of him. And when he did cum, he had to bite his lip hard to contain himself while you swallowed every bit of his essence, having the most innocent look on your face while he pumped into you to ride out his high.

You concluded doing this was fun. You liked it. You loved the sounds that left Jake’s mouth, trying to be fairly quiet, and you loved the taste of him.

You didn’t expect Jake to drop down to his knees just to capture your lips with his again, tasting himself on your tongue. He cupped both your cheeks, pulling you as close to him as possible.

“I want you so bad, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his lips peppering your face with kisses. He went from your lips to your nose, your eyes, your cheeks, your chin and down, to your neck which (thank god) no longer had the marks of your encounter with Heeseung. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“You could show me, ah,” you moaned when Jake latched onto an especially sensitive spot, sucking on the skin.

“Not here, though,” Jake said, looking around. As stated before, your spot was hidden well, but the last thing Jake wanted to do right now was to debauch you in a corner of a library. No, for what he wanted to do, he needed a bed. “Let’s go to my house when my parents aren’t there.”

“And when will that be?” You grabbed at Jake’s T-shirt when his lips returned to yours.

“I’ll text you,” Jake replied in between kisses. You smiled.

Why hadn’t you thought of this before? Sim Jake was the most perfect of all the perfect candidates you could have to lose your virginity to.

Heeseung wasn’t stupid.

He saw the lingering glances between you and Jake every time you were in the room. He knew something happened between the two of you, and he did not like the idea of it, whatever it was. It was on purpose, when he said: “Anyone know what Y/N’s been up to lately?”

“No. Why?” Jay’s response was immediate, glaring at Heeseung. “Why do you even care?”

“It was just a question, dude. Miss Decelis is shit ass at reporting about her aside from that one vid of her with Yeonjun,” he said, shrugging. That memory still infuriated him.

“Dude, as far as we know, she’s still a virgin and it might be better for her to keep it that way.” Jay shook his head. He cringed at the mention of the local gossip, as she had recently been viciously attacking Jay’s character and pride for the past month.

Heeseung nodded, glancing in Jake’s direction. He was chewing on his bottom lip in thought, but if there was anything that action told Heeseung, it was that Jake had not slept with you.

Good.

“There’s no reason for you to care anyway.” Sunghoon raised a brow at him. “Unless you’re secretly in love with her or something.”

“Piss off.” Heeseung scoffed, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t in love with you. He just… thought of you often. And the night he almost had you if the other guys didn’t appear. In his mind, he was convinced that he could fuck thoughts of you out of his system (except none of those girls were you and he was acutely aware of that). It also led to way too many posts about him on Miss Decelis.

“See, I don’t get why you guys don’t like her so much. She’s nice.” Sunghoon shrugged.

“You’re also obliged to say that because your whole figure skating career is sponsored by her dad’s money,” Jay noted matter-of-factly. It was how you and Sunghoon knew each other even before he got into the Academy on a scholarship (upon a recommendation from your father).

Sunghoon made a face, sticking his tongue out at him. “Cry about it.”

“Why should I? You’re the one suffering,” Jay replied, but the insult to your person was half-hearted, an automatic response.

Neither Heeseung nor Jay were as opposed to you as before. It was a pointless fight regardless as it would be two on two. Though Jake hadn’t said a word yet. Instead, the boy’s focus was on his phone as he feverishly typed his heart away.

Heeseung glared at Jake in hopes of getting his attention, but the blond was too far in his own world, grinning at the screen like a maniac.

You.

He was texting you, Heeseung was more than sure of it, and he had half a mind to snatch the phone from Jake’s hands to (1) see what you two were talking about and (2) to block all your contacts from Jake’s accounts to make sure you couldn’t reach him. Because no sane man would smile so brightly at his phone over some stupid texts.

You had Jake wrapped around your little finger, and Heeseung didn’t know how to stop it from happening. You didn’t necessarily ignore Heeseung, but you definitely didn’t like him, and you really did not care about him pretending that he barely knew you. Not like you did before.

This version of you was so fucking annoying. Even more than before. Because not only could he not get you out of his head, but he knew his friends — and not only them — were all thinking the same. No matter how much Jay pretended, Heeseung noticed the way Jay would usually look around classrooms to make sure you were there and unharmed with a gentleness in his eye that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.

Heeseung could see the way Sunghoon’s eyes kept travelling to you, wanting to talk to you, but not finding the courage or the right words.

As for himself, Heeseung had a hard time dropping the image he had built over the years, so approaching you at school would make people talk, and at home, you wouldn’t even look his way despite visiting his family’s penthouse to see Jeonghyeon or whenever you two ran into each other in the building.

But Jake… it came naturally to him — talking to you. He had been talking to you since middle school, albeit trying to hide it from Heeseung and Jay. They knew anyway.

What was Heeseung going to do about you?

There used to be a time in your life when all you ever wished for was to be invisible. But you don’t anymore. Not when being visible meant people seeing you talk to Choi Yeonjun..

“So, you do know that Heeseung’s, like, obsessed with you, right?” Yeonjun questioned with a raised brow. “I’ve been hearing people talk, and someone said he threatened a guy for talking about you.”

“He’s just being an asshole,” you said plainly, rolling your eyes. “Something about hating the sound of my name around the corridors since he already hears it enough at home or whatever it was he used to say.”

“Nah.” Yeonjun shook his head with a smirk. “See, I know I was out of it but I do remember us almost fucking so excuse me if I do believe Heeseung was jealous,” the boy’s tone was so casual it made you chuckle. It did bring back the memories of Heeseung’s fingers inside you, though, so you shifted on your feet to keep your attention on Yeonjun.

“Okay. So maybe he was jealous. But it was really none of his business. You yourself called him the guy who’s been ignoring me my whole life.” You crossed your arms, pressing your lips in a thin line.

“Yeah but that’s usually what idiots like him do when they’re scared they might actually start liking you.” Yeonjun shrugged. “But anyway, to further prove my point—” he threw his arms up in the air, making several wild gestures to make sure his statement was emphasised enough— “Whoever that dude was, apparently he talked about dicking you down or some shit, and Heeseung didn’t like that.”

“Obviously he wouldn’t,” you said and shook your head. “We grew up together. He doesn’t want to hear stuff like that.”

“You gotta trust me on this, darling. Bro’s jealous as fuck.” Yeonjun nodded vigorously. “My intuition about these things is never wrong. Trust.”

“I think he’d have stopped Jake from talking to me by now if that was the case,” you thought out loud. You may have not lost your virginity just yet, but that didn’t mean you and Jake didn’t find moments alone where you would practise your skill with giving head, or him showing you how adept he was with his mouth and his fingers.

You never realised it was that good to have your pussy eaten out. Jake was always ready to devour you whole, pushing his tongue into you as deep as he was physically capable before using his fingers to satisfy you. And all of this just because he found out you were a virgin and wanted to make sure your first time would be meaningful.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Yeonjun chuckled, wiggling his brows suggestively. “I’m kinda hurt you didn’t ask me.”

You slapped Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I’m booked and busy, I fear. Next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that, darling.”

Good morning, Decelis!

I’ve been hearing rumours about Lee Heeseung threatening people over Y/N? What’s all this fuss about? Care to explain yourself, big guy?

XO, Miss Decelis

The video of Heeseung holding a boy’s collar, having pushed him against a wall should not have been so surprising to you. But it was hard to comprehend it. Heeseung had never been a violent type of guy. Usually, he would just have someone else do it for him. But the fact that it was over you?

Unthinkable.

One thing was to hear about it from Yeonjun, another was seeing it with your own two eyes, filmed and posted on social media.

“I called it! Your cousin is totally into our little Y/N,” Ning sang, holding onto her phone with the tweet open and playing while she looked at Jeonghyeon victoriously. “Always knew it…”

“That’s his problem.” Jeonghyeon rolled his eyes, bumping your shoulder with his. “He made sure to completely ruin his chances.”

“At least he’s hot, you know.” Ning shrugged. “It’s the genes or something,” she mumbled, watching Jeonghyeon smile at you, a single dimple adorning his cheeks.

“How are things with Jake going anyway?” he asked you.

“Dude,” you began, putting both your hands on the table for the dramatics. “He’s taking cooking classes for me. He said, and I quote ‘I want to make you dinner when you come over’ and I’ve been losing my mind over it since.”

“Holy shit, it’s that serious for him?” Jeonghyeon’s brow rose.

“Oh my gosh, dude’s in love with you already.” Ning giggled, excited for you. “He was really just holding it in this whole time huh?”

“To be fair, they always had a weird obsession with Y/N,” Jeonghyeon said matter-of-factly. “Even when they were being haters.”

“Jake never was,” you pointed out.

“Neither is Sunghoon,” Ning remarked. “He can’t hate her anyway. For reasons.” She shrugged, and you threw her a nasty eye.

“Obviously I’m only talking about Heeseung and Jay.” Jeonghyeon let out a frustrated sigh, glancing between you and Ning.

“That was not obvious at all,” Ning said.

“Yeah. What she said.”

“I— whatever.” Jeonghyeon ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey guys, what are you talking about?” Jake appeared at your side, sitting down on the bench that you were already sharing with Jeonghyeon. Smiling up at you, he nudged you with his shoulder.

“Oh, you know, the regular stuff,” Ning said, waving her hand. “Heeseung and Jay’s unhealthy obsession with Y/N and all that.” She did not care about who she was talking to in the slightest, grinning when she saw Jake’s discomfited look.

“What?” Jake tilted his head, and Ning raised her arms in defence.

“Don’t kill the messenger, please, Jeonghyeon brought it up first.”

Jeonghyeon glared at her. “I’m just saying that I’ve heard the two of them speak about Y/N more often than is necessary for two people who dislike her. That’s all,” he explained, having first-hand experience from living with Heeseung.

Jake blinked slowly before nodding. “I get what you mean,” he agreed, pursing his lips. “Remember when you first introduced Sunghoon to us?” The blond turned to you, waiting for your nod to continue speaking. “Heeseung and Jay literally pulled up a whole set of rules regarding you and how to act around you.”

“Huh?” You, Jeonghyeon and Ning chorused. None of you knew that.

“He didn’t go along with it, though. Sunghoon.” Jake clicked his tongue and shook his head. “But anyways, that’s not why I came here, actually. I wanted to ask if you wanna join me in the library to look over something I’ve been working on.” Looking at you expectantly, there wasn’t much for you to do but to say yes.

You thought it was code for a makeout session, but it turned out that Jake genuinely wanted to show you something.

“Look! I learned how to make cookies,” he spoke excitedly, showing you the box full of chocolate chip cookies with the largest grin on his lips, proud of himself and his creation. It looked and smelled delicious. “Give it a try, please. I’m still figuring out what to make for our day together this weekend.”

The warmth in your chest was an unexpected intruder, but you couldn’t stop the swelling in your heart caused by Jake’s sweetness. It made you even more angry with Heeseung about missing out on all this simply because Jake had a hard time defying the slightly older guys.

So you picked one and bit into it without hesitation, humming when the sweet taste hit your tongue, the cookie practically melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, holy shit, it’s so good,” you said, taking another bite.

Jake’s cheeks reddened, his smile growing. He tried to drive away his thoughts from wondering whether you would have a similar reaction to his cock inside of you. Totally inappropriate thoughts to have while he was trying to be wholesome. “I had some help from my friend Felix, though. I’m really glad you like them.”

“I don’t just like them, Jake. I love them. Holy fuck, I could eat these forever.” You were already reaching for another cookie, which made Jake laugh softly at how adorable you looked.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and you giggled, finishing a bite of his homemade cookies.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, leaning in.

It completely slipped your mind that you were not at your secret place in the library, but a very public part of it.

Good morning, Decelis! I’m officially not bored anymore.

We have Lee Heeseung fighting guys for stepping out of line when speaking about Y/N, and now this? Sim Jake, one of Heeseung’s best friends, was spotted kissing her in the library! Scandalous.

I love it.

XO, Miss Decelis

Sim Jake liked to think he was a confident guy. But suddenly, he couldn’t stop sweating. He had to constantly wipe his hands on his sweatpants when he prepared the table for you, and he worried that you might not like what he cooked. Though the meal was simple. He made ramen with grilled pork belly and a spicy sauce to go along with it because you had mentioned liking it when food had a little kick to it. So he made a sauce by mixing gochujang, soy sauce, gochugaru, a bit of sugar and lemon juice.

Even after two whole cooking lessons from a chef his parents liked, Jake still felt a little lost. But! The kitchen did not burn down, so he deemed it a huge success.

He wanted this day to be perfect for you.

He wasn’t sure why he cared so much, but he just abhorred the idea of you losing your virginity in some random person’s bedroom at a party, or even in the library or an empty classroom where sitting atop a table or a drawer or a bookshelf wasn’t entirely comfortable. Maybe after your first time, but not now.

You deserved better.

When you arrived, your dress was not casual. It was a satin slip-on that entirely revealed your back and wrapped around your neck with a thin strap to hold the fabric over your breasts. You weren’t wearing a bra, and your nipples were visible through the thin fabric, already making Jake wish he could wrap his lips around them.

He didn’t even have enough space in his mind to think about the fact he was severely underdressed in his grey sweatpants and white T-shirt. You didn’t care, though, because all you saw was Jake’s pretty face and your surroundings — the house he grew up in.

It was very light and nowhere near the minimalistic bullshit your parents liked to pull. Instead, the walls of the hallway were lined in photo frames. Pictures of Jake, of his dog Layla, his childhood drawings as well as diplomas from competitions he had won before. It was basically Jake’s hall of fame.

“Please, just ignore it. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jake said, biting his lip. “My parents are gone for the weekend, and Layla should be napping outside at the moment, so the house is all ours.”

“Sounds good.” You smiled, anticipation coursing through your whole body.

This was it. The big day.

With Sim Jake, who you were starting to care about more than you thought you would. But, figuratively speaking, despite your recent descent into the darkness, you were inexplicably drawn to his light.

He led you to the dining room which had the whole table set up for two with candles and a flower vase in the middle, a pot of ramen and a plate with grilled pork belly to be shared between you.

“Jake, this is—”

“I know it might seem a bit excessive, but I really want this to be special for you,” the blond said, running a hand through his hair while chewing on his bottom lip. You grabbed his hand in yours and smiled brightly.

“It’s stunning, Jake. Thank you for all this,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure it’s going to be really good as well.”

Jake nodded. He pulled out a chair for you to sit on before seating himself next to you, and neither of you hesitated to dig into the food. As hungry as you were, the empty feeling in your stomach was not due to the lack of food in it.

Watching Jake grab the first piece of pork belly and dip it in the red sauce, you did not expect him to offer it to you, but your eyes softened and you accepted the piece into your mouth. The meat was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the sauce had a spicy kick to it with sweetness and a citrusy taste spreading on your tongue. You hummed, closing your eyes to savour the taste.

It was almost unreal. This whole scene of you and Jake eating and talking casually, knowing what was to come. He was such a good cook it drove you insane. And you’d eaten at the best rated restaurants in the country before.

“Thank you, Jake,” you said after the meal was over, and without thinking much about your next actions, you planted your lips onto his, wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He kissed you back eagerly, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before biting on it, drawing a whimper out of you. You let him take the lead, putting his hands on your waist to bring you closer. Your whole body felt warm under his touch. His hands slid down your body to your bare thighs, and then underneath your dress to harshly grasp your ass. You gasped in surprise, and Jake smirked into the kiss, pulling away from you.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he whispered into your ear, his voice a low groan, and the heat that pooled from your stomach to your crotch was nearly unbearable. Jake chuckled when you kept shifting in place in hopes of getting some friction.

What you didn’t expect was Jake lifting you up to carry you bridal style. You yelped, your eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you, obviously,” he said nonchalantly, and you dared not fight him as he walked towards his bedroom, wherever it was because your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking on the soft skin. You enjoyed the little moans that left his mouth alongside his heavy breaths because he was clearly struggling by the end of the journey.

He never dropped you, though. Not until the only thing you could fall on was his overly expensive mattress with him on top of you. Jake didn’t stay away for long, already ridding himself of his T-shirt to straddle your lap.

He leant down to kiss you, and your hands automatically began roaming the plane of his flat stomach. He had to be working out, at least the tiniest bit. But those thoughts did not matter when Jake’s hands slid under your dress to firmly grip your thighs as he kissed his way down your body. He bit one of your nipples through the dress, and you let out a shaky moan, your hands holding onto any part of Jake.

You wanted to feel his mouth on your bare skin, but he had yet to let you take the dress off. Instead, he hooked his fingers on your lace panties and ripped them off without a single care in the world. (It was your favourite Victoria’s Secret piece.) “I’ll get you new ones, I promise,” he murmured when he looked up at you with his deep brown eyes.

He lifted your dress to reveal your pussy, his mouth latching onto the skin on the inside of your thighs, biting and sucking to tease you, knowing you wanted his lips somewhere else. But there was a devilish glint in his eye as he slowly progressed to the main course. His gaze never left yours, and you gripped the sheets of his bed tightly, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“Just say the magic words, baby, and you can have it all,” he said, sensing your anticipation and the oncoming frustration.

“Please, Jake,” you whispered.

It was enough for his hot mouth to finally come in contact with your wet cunt, his tongue slowly circling your clit. You moaned, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, and Jake hummed at your taste, enjoying every little bit of it, sucking it in.

The sounds that left your pretty mouth were worth more than stars in the sky and enough to make Jake absolutely hard. He enjoyed the sweet taste of you as he tongue-fucked you, keeping your thighs apart to heighten every bit of pleasure you were getting out of this. Your back arched against his mouth, and he kept eating like a man starved, convinced that he would never get tired of you. Of this feeling of your pussy against his mouth, his fingers.

He waited so long to finally know what it would feel like to take you. But he had to make sure everything would be proper for you. That your first time would be so unforgettable he would ruin every other man for you. All of this was his selfish quest to have you for himself only.

And he knew half of his job was done when you came into his mouth, screaming his name and gripping his sheets. For now, he was the only man who knew what this was like. What it felt like to have you scream their name and fall apart for them.

He went in for a kiss afterward, which you reciprocated, tasting yourself. Smiling, he was already reaching into his drawer to pull out a single condom, to make this a safe experience for you. And you let him pull away from you to sit down at the edge of the bed.

It gave you an opportunity to finally take off the dress that was beginning to suffocate you, watching Jake shuffle out of his sweatpants, his cock springing out, looking as beautiful as ever. And you’d finally feel it inside you.

You never saw a man put a condom on before. Your gaze was a bit too intense, but Jake wasn’t bothered by it, grinning at you instead once he was done, noticing that your dress was off. His lips fell apart and his eyes widened as he drank in your bare figure and boobs. You were unreal. Perfect. And waiting for him.

You laid back down on the bed, your head hitting the satin pillows, and you invited Jake in with a soft smile, wiggling your index finger to beckon him over.

You didn’t have to ask twice before he was on top of you again, his eyes never leaving yours. “Make me yours, Jake,” you said, and he thought he might not be able to handle you after all. You bit your lip and moved your hands to his cock, to guide him to your heat as if it was his first time and not yours.

He hated how big of an effect you truly had on him. But he listened, he agreed. He wanted you to be his. So badly.

So he finally made the first push inside you, watching your face the entire time. You chewed on your lip as he slowly went deeper, holding in his own moan at your tightness. You felt so good around him. He could stay like this forever. But this wasn’t about him, and he kept checking on you.

“Is this okay?” Jake asked once his entire cock was buried inside of you, waiting for your body to adjust to him. You only managed to nod, your body moving closer to him. Placing his hands on your hips, he set a slow pace at first.

You whimpered, gripping onto his shoulders with enough strength for your nails to leave dents, but Jake didn’t mind.

Your brain was hazy from the slow movements. The pleasure was incomparable, tinged with the tiniest bit of pain as Jake’s dick moved in and out of your pussy. But the more comfortable it became for you, the less satisfied you were. “Jake,” you said in between moans, bringing his upper body closer to you. “Faster, please.”

It was a command that brought out something in Jake. Hearing you ask him to go faster did something to his brain chemistry, doing exactly what you asked for. His pace quickened, his pelvis hitting your clit relentlessly. It drove you insane how good it felt to have Jake inside of you, to share this moment with him.

A cacophony of skin against skin mixed with your moans echoed through the room. Jake couldn’t stop looking at you, examining every little change in your expression for any kind of discomfort when his movements became harsher, but the pleasure blinding you and your senses was far too intense for you to think of anything else. “You’re taking it like a good girl,” Jake murmured against the skin of your shoulder, and he almost lost his mind when your walls clenched around his dick.

“I think— god, Jake,” you cried out as he continued to repetitively hit the right spot. You clung onto his body like a leech. “I’m— I’m close.”

Jake’s pace remained the same, but he added his thumb, circling your clit to help your release, which came not long after, with you chanting Jake’s name like a spell meant to entrap him with you forever.

He cummed after a few more thrusts with your cunt so deliciously tight around him from the orgasm you were riding off. He planted his lips on yours when it happened, flipping the two of you over so you could be on top of him.

He wanted to sear the sight into his mind, your hair sticking to your sweat-covered face, messy from the pillows, and your lips swollen from how much you bit them.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” Jake let his orgasm-clouded brain run his mouth, and you smiled at him so brightly that it made him think the whole room lit up. But it was just you, really. And the fact that Jake was incredibly fucked up in the head because his heart could not stop beating in his ears.

And this was just the beginning.

Good morning, Decelis! A little birdie has shared something very interesting with me recently. Something that involves a certain princess and our resident Mr. Can’t-Live-A-Day-Without-Getting-My-Dick-Wet.

Oh yes, you’re reading that right. It seems that someone has spotted Y/N with Lee Heeseung doing some filthy things in the back of a car. How cute.

I wonder how old that photo is?

XO, Miss Decelis

tags! @strxwbloody @starsenha @mitmit01 @chaconadine

[nevernonline]

✧.* he's not into you; hvc

synopsis: curious what the problem is in your dating life where you just can’t seem to get guys to commit fully to you beyond a second date, your work associate offers his help.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: vernon x fem! reader.

genre: co-workers2friends2lovers (? lmao)

warning/s: mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, sexy time (y/n has female genitalia!) pls no minors!!

word count: 6.3k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. y/n and vernon work at a bar.

note: our next stop in my fav little movie inspired writings is he's just not that into you!! a true classic in my eyes. and who better to be our male lead than bernon himself, a perfect silly goofy man. i acc tried to edit and be good?? for once.. lmao. love u xo. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Waltzing around your co-workers behind the bar like a choreographed dance, handing out drinks to some of your familiar customers, soaking cherries in alcohol, and stuffing your tips inside of your folder for the night it was a perfect distraction from the thoughts running through your mind about that awful date you had gone on the night before. 

You were convincing yourself all the guys you’ve been out with just weren’t for you, maybe to make yourself feel better, maybe just to put blame on someone else for the reasons you can’t seem to surpass a second date. 

“Y/N, could I get two vodka martinis. One dirty and one with a twist, twice shaken please.” 

“No problem, Som.” 

Somi was one of your co-workers and someone you’ve become close friends with working with her over the course of a year when the bar first opened. standing by your side on  the busiest night of the week, the other was Vernon,  he was slightly newer and unfamiliar standing next to you behind the bar, girls flirting with him left, right and center hoping to crack open his quiet yet charming exterior. 

Taking orders upon orders your body was craving a moment to yourself, being an introvert and working in a high volume environment with the type of company that spends hundreds of dollars a night just to sit at a table and feel important takes a toll on you. 

“Vernon, would you be cool if I stepped outside for a second?” 

“Yeah, no problem. I’m good.” 

“Alright, thanks I’ll be back in five.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Nothing more than his simple answers, for the most all you know about him is he’s your age, in college not sure what major he could possibly be studying, and he lives decently close to the bar, coming in on his days off with groups of his friends to have a drink of his own made at your own hands. 

Stepping outside the employee entrance into the back of the building, feeling the cool air light up your body, you decided to light up something of your own, a small perfectly rolled cigarette wrapped up in its signature strawberry flavored paper and vanilla tobacco inside. 

Three minutes into your first break of the night, the door slid open revealing the quiet boy standing in its frame. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, I actually need your help. A big group of finance dudes came in.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll save it for later.” 

Dipping the pastel candy like cigarette into the ashtray, basically kissing it and saying you’ll see it soon, you stepped back in with Vernon to your front strolling through the back room full of fresh liquor bottles. 

“This is a weird question. But what were you smoking? It smells good. Actually, normally cigarettes make me nauseous as hell.” 

“Oh. It’s a vanilla tobacco, but my rolling papers are strawberry so it’s kind of sweeter that way.” 

“No wonder. I always thought you smelt like vanilla musk, but I knew it was something different. I just assumed it was perfume. I like it.” 

“Thanks, Vern.” 

“Yeah. Want to take the table? Or wait for them to come up to us?” 

“I’ll go.” 

“Alright.” 

Cutting around the marble countertop, trying to avoid the patrons sitting at the end of the bar. You spot the group of men wearing their fancy suit jackets, and various colors of button down tops. One of them in particular was your date from a few weeks ago. The one who left you a post it note on your nightstand to wake up to basically telling you he wouldn’t call but thanks for the fuck. 

Swilling your pride, you stayed walking towards them, now with the pretty smile usually wiped across your face lost and turned into a closed lip grin. 

“Hey, what can I get for you guys?” 

“I’ll take you with a side of bourbon on the rocks please.” 

“Clever. I’m not on the menu. Anything for you.” 

Your fingers pointed towards the rest of the helm just patiently waiting for more unusual comments and weird flirting tactics. 

Your date though, kept his head buried in his menu, avoiding making eye contact with you out of his own embarrassment making you decide to fuck with him a little in front of his annoying crowd of friends. 

“And anything for you, Chris? Jack Daniels and Coke with a splash of cherry I presume? Or are you going to write your order down on a post it note?” 

His crowd erupted in laughter, clearly aware of his tactics when he leaves girls and decides to not call them back.

He muttered back it was fine as you walked off back to Vernon watching on with a smirk on his face. 

“You know him I assume?” 

“Unfortunately I do.” 

“Can I ask how?” 

You contemplated telling him a lie, just something simple like he was an old friend or an ex-boyfriend, but in order to keep him from opening up to you, you chose the real reason. 

“Actually we went out a few weeks ago. In the morning I woke up to a note taped to my pillow saying how he wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore but thanking me for being a good fuck and being so accommodating and sexy.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“I’m not kidding.” 

“Want me to spit in his drink?” 

“Yes. But I don’t want you to lose your job. It’s alright, not the first time for me unfortunately and actually maybe one of the nicer ones.” 

“Not the first time a dude you’ve fucked wrote you a note saying he’s not into you?” 

“There’s been worse believe it or not.” 

“You’ve piqued my interest.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“How do you meet dudes like that?”

“I’m a lucky girl, now do me a favor and take these drinks to them, because if I do I’ll probably say some shit I’ll regret.” 

“Alright. What’s his name?” 

“Who?” 

“Asshole over there.” 

“Chris” 

“Cool. Thanks.” 

“Vernon why?” 

“No reason, keep working.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“My whole vibe is stupid, be back in a second.” 

Watching the boy out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he placed everyone’s drinks for them, reaching Christopher last, pretending to trip over his chair, spilling the alcoholic concoction over his pants. 

“Dude what the fuck?” 

“Oh shit, my bad. Let me get you a new one.” 

“Why the fuck are you so clumsy, how am I going to get a girl here when I look like I pissed myself?” 

“The girls that come in here don’t want some bitch who drinks cherry whiskey and Coke, they like real men. But I’ll be back in a second.” 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

“You heard me, man. One second alright I’ll be back with your bitch drink.” 

Chris’s friends seem to be enjoying watching his night being turned into a shit storm, assuming they maybe don’t enjoy his company much either. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“He seems like a tool, he’ll be fine.” 

“Well thank you. It was funny, I had to hold my laughter in so he doesn’t think I made you do that for me.” 

“Safe bet.” 

Your night continued on until midnight when all the happy and drunk patrons exited the restaurant and you got to cleaning up the bar space, leaving you, Vernon, and Somi alone in the dimly lit room. 

“Vernon? Want to stay and have a drink as a thank you for helping me out. Somi would but she has to get back to her ball and chain.” 

“Are we allowed to do that?” 

“Well my dad owns the place, I don’t think he cares much.” 

“You’re dad? Wait what the fuck, I never put that together.” 

“Yeah. Him and his friends.” 

“Holy shit.” 

Laughing along with Somi at his amazement, you bid her goodbye before sliding into a bar top table, holding the glass of vodka in your well manicured fingers. 

Much to your surprise your more than shy coworker decided to stay with you sliding in next to you holding his own glass of beer. 

“So wait. I’m confused. Your dad and his friends opened the bar. Why do you want to work here?” 

“Easy. I always liked the idea of being a bartender and my parents would kill me for being a kid who didn’t have a job or work ethic and just using their money.” 

“Got it. Aren’t you in school?” 

“ I haven’t decided what to go for yet so I’m taking some time. Not sure yet. You?” 

“Journalism.” 

“For real? That’s cool as hell.” 

“Yeah.” 

Your phone lit up on the table blasting the ringtone really loudly in between you and Vernon, flashing the name Matthew on the screen. 

“Hey. Yeah, this is her. Oh really? Can you hold on just ONE second. Thanks.” 

Vernon waved you along letting you go on with the conversation with the guy who's been taking you on dates for the past week, curious why he’d be calling you late. 

 “Wait since I’m out of the loop, who was that?” 

“You really want to know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so his name is Matt. We met at the coffee shop a few weeks ago. He was cute. He paid for my drink and we just sort of hit it off.” 

“Have you guys slept together?” 

“Yeah. The first day we met.” 

“Y/N no. You’ve got to make these guys wait. Like they’re getting exactly what they want from you before you even know if they’re fucking idiots or not.” 

“Really? Does that actually work though? I mean you heard him say he likes his ex there’s nothing I can change about that?” 

“Did you ask when his last relationship was before you guys started dating?” 

“Yeah he said he’d been single for two months.” 

“Two months? And he’s already back with her? Or was he always seeing her when you guys were together? What kind of dates did you go on? Dinner? Or?” 

“Coffee sometimes, then he’d just come hangout at my place most of the time.” 

“So you never went to his?” 

“No.” 

“So he was cheating on his girlfriend with you?” 

“What? No, he said he was single.” 

Vernon ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh before looking back at you. 

“You guys met for coffee, you’d have him over to your place during the day, you’d have sex and he’d leave? You never saw his apartment? He just confessed that he’s been seeing his so-called ex over the phone the whole time you guys were quote on quote dating. He definitely lives with her and was fucking you for fun. You weren’t dating.” 

“Speaking from experience, Vernon?” 

“No. I’ve only ever dated one person seriously.” 

“So why are you giving me advice about my dating life?” 

“Because I had a successful five year relationship and you’ve had none? And you seem to need it.” 

“Wow. I would normally be pissed, but you’re right. I can’t seem to tell what I’m  doing wrong actually. Maybe I'm destined to be single.” 

“Not true. You’re pretty, nice, and you’ve got a cool ass life. You’ll be fine, you just need some editing maybe.” 

“So what? You want to be my relationship guru? Or?” 

“Yes.” 

You outstretched your hand to his and he shook it for you, confirming your now partnership where he would help you with your dating life. 

“Wait, before we go further. Try this.” 

Lifting the straw to your lips for you, Vernon offered you a sip of the drink he made.

“Wait, that's good, what is that?” 

“That assholes drink.” 

“I hate that I actually fucking like it.” 

“Me too.” 

You and Vernon spend the rest of your night together shooting the shit and getting to know each other more, once two am rolls around you both decide to head out and walk home. 

“This is me.” 

Much to your surprise Vernon swipes his key card to enter the same building as you. 

“Wait, you live here? How come I’ve never seen you in the building?” 

“I just moved in like three weeks ago. I spend most of my time in my apartment with my cat if I'm not at school or work.” 

“What floor?” 

“Seven.” 

Pressing the number seven on the elevator button before you tapped number thirteen, you and Vernon rode silently up to your separate homes. 

Before stepping off onto his floor, he pressed the hold door button.

“Come over tomorrow around six? I know you have the night off so we can hangout or whatever.” 

“Okay. What should I wear?” 

“You’ll figure it out. You always look nice. Casual is fine.” 

Rolling your eyes to his back as he strode off to his front door, you yelled a goodnight out of the door before they clocked shit and ran you up to your own place. 

Waking up the next morning you stepped out of your bed and pulled out all the ingredients to make a perfect cup of coffee, something that was like a religious ritual for you to clear your head before starting your day. 

After the brew was finished dripping though your pour over carafe you decided to take in some sun on your balcony and prepare your mind for the rest of the day until you were set to get ready to hangout with Vernon. 

The unexpected invitation to go on a quote in quote fake date with the boy had your head confused. What should you wear? What should you do with the little information given to you about what’s going on? 

After spending a few hours outside with your coffee and disconnecting from your phone, you decided to head back inside and go through your closet in search of the perfect casual outfit. 

Placing options on your bed, you hopped into the shower and spent time under the hot steam scrubbing your body from head to toe. After you were satisfied with your cleanliness, you stepped out and sat at your vanity, drying your hair and curling the front two pieces of your perfectly done up-do, painted your nails a perfect cherry red color, and put on your typical makeup look. 

Sliding your slippers back on you stood now in front of the three tops hanging in front of you feeling them for the perfect vibe. Eventually selecting a simple white button down top to match your gray pleated short skirt, slipping up a pair of simple tights and black heeled knee high boots. 

Finally the time came for you to run down seven floors and step off to find Vernon, knocking on the door to the left of the elevator a woman who you’ve seen around the building once or twice answered. 

“I’m sorry, I think maybe I have the wrong apartment. Excuse me-“ 

“You’re y/n?” 

“Yes. Hi.” 

“Hi, I’m Vernon’s friend Chae. I like your outfit, it's super cute.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

Stepping into the similar shaped apartment to yours, you notice the colorful paintings all over the walls, the beautiful soft blue couch, and the cozy smell of fresh linen hitting your nose, as you walked in further you saw a group of various people sitting around in his living room, some pouring themselves drinks, some standing around eating snacks and talking. 

“Would you like water or a beer or anything?” 

“Oh no, I’m alright for now thank you.” 

“No problem, I’ll just go see what he’s up to. Excuse me.” 

“Sure.” 

After waiting five minutes in the threshold of Vernon’s front entry, he peeled around the corner, dressed in an oddly similar outfit to yours, minus the heels and mini skirt. 

His crisp white shirt and matching gray coat and pants, a black leather bag, carrying a pair of nice black sneakers in his hand. 

“Hey, sorry I accidentally spilled cola on my other shirt, I had to change.” 

“That’s alright. I like your outfit though, you look cool.” 

“Thank you, I like yours too. I told you about casual dress though.” 

“This is casual?” 

“If you say so. Want a cocktail or something?” 

“Uh, sure? Wait though I thought we were going out or something, I didn’t know you had company. I can leave?” 

“No. Well, we’re going out a little later to a party,  I wanted to invite you, come on.” 

You stepped into his kitchen where he had various types of alcohol scattered on the counter, next to slices of pizza and a couple bags of chips. 

You looked around the room at the new faces, some of them you recognized from Vernon bring them to the bar with him. 

“Want the asshole special again? I actually made myself one.” 

“Weirdly I do, yeah.” 

Vernon laughed as he mixed you the same concoction he spilled the night before, handing it over to you gracefully. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem. This is a weird question, but did you roll any of your cigarettes or have any of those cute papers you use? I told my friend about them and he wanted to find some to roll a joint with.” 

Digging through your bag you pulled out the small case full of tobacco and papers from inside, holding out the pack to him to give to his friend, someone who you’re sure you’ll meet at one point or another. 

“Wow. Thank you.” 

“It’s cool, I have a bunch anyway. So, what does this have to do with you being my relationship guru anyway?” 

“Nothing actually. Just wanted to hangout with you more.” 

“Oh, right.” 

Something about Vernon being so kind to you and sticking up for you last night and today was making you see him in a different light almost like you were starting to have a crush on him. But he could never be into you that way, especially seeing how he interacted with his friend Chae. 

Walking around his apartment and saying hello to his friends, you chose a seat adjacent to the couch, one that was unoccupied and slightly out of the way. 

Some of his friends knew who you were without you even having to mention it. Talking and getting to know them. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but stumbled upon a room adorned with movie posters and music equipment. 

“The bathroom is right here.” 

Vernon pointed to the unlatched door down the hall, the same position as yours. 

“I know. I live here too. I was just being nosy.” 

“Oh. That's cool, you can check it out if you want.” 

Stepping into his office space, you smiled looking around at his various media and collectables, staring at the framed record on the wall signed by an artist you like yourself. 

“This is yours?” 

“Yeah. I got it as a birthday present when I was like eighteen. I love it.” 

“Sick.” 

“Sick? You’re so weird. Do people say that shit still?” 

“Fuck off. People definitely still say that.”  

“Not cool people.” 

“You literally told me I was cool yesterday?” 

“I spoke too soon.” 

As you and Vernon were standing in his room laughing, Chae appeared behind you both without your knowledge and gripped Vernon’s side, scaring the both of you with his reaction and finding her laughing her ass off. 

“You should have seen your guys’ faces. It was too easy.” 

“You’re such an asshole, I almost hit you.” 

“I’d like to see you try, big boy.” 

You just smiled, feeling a little awkward watching Vernon flirting with his friend.

“We want to head out, are you guys ready?” 

“I’m good, I think Y/N had to use the restroom though?” 

“Yeah. It’s okay, I think I might just head back to my place. I have a headache, but you guys have fun.” 

“No way, come on, take some tylenol and let's go.” 

“Chae. Let her leave if she doesn't feel good.” 

“She obviously wants to leave because she found your weird collection of fucking disney vhs tapes, not because of her headache.” 

“Not true.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll come, just let me use the restroom fast. I’ll meet you.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaving you to do your business, Chae handed you two small white pills from her bag, and a swig of her beer to wash them down with before heading behind Vernon as they got ready to leave for the next location. 

After a few minutes  of walking you and Vernon’s friends  pulled up outside a bar you’ve never been to but heard a lot of your friends enjoyed, amply titled Love Bites.  

Vernon held onto your shoulders and walked you into the front door of the bar, pushing you towards a table where he told you to sit down and wait, as he walked away and left you with his friend to order everyone a round of drinks. 

The seat next to you that you’d hoped Vernon would fill was taken by a dark haired boy you hadn’t recognized from earlier back at the apartment. 

“Y/n? Hi, I’m Joshua. 

“Oh. Hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Vernon’s friend just so you don’t think I’m some random dude.” 

“Right. I figured.” 

“Actually I was the one who asked for the papers, thank you by the way.” 

“Yeah, no problem. Do you smoke? Like weed or?” 

“Yeah, just weed. I used to smoke cigarettes and vape for a while or whatever, but I stopped for a while. I just realized it was a boring habit.” 

“How’d you know I had strawberry papers, did Vernon tell everyone?” 

“No, no. He just said you were cool. Very friendly, but you didn’t talk about yourself enough and that you have nice smelling cigarettes that you smell like sometimes. Nothing too much really.”

“Oh. No dirty details about my weird dating life he pressed me about?”  

“Nothing about that, but he knows about my awful habits too. He always tells me I need serious help.”

“Yes. Me too, I called him a relationship guru.” 

“He thinks he is, but he’s had a crush on the same girl for a while. I'm not sure who she is, he never told me anything more about it. I’m not sure he’s the guy I’d trust to set me up that's for sure.” 

“Oh really? Is it, you know?” 

You pointed with your eyes across the table to Chae who was seated next to Vernon’s side. 

“I don’t think so. She’s definitely been in love with him forever, they were friends when they were kids and rekindled a few years ago when she moved back to town. She's really obvious about it, but he never said anything.” 

“Ah, I don’t know he seems to flirt with her alot.” 

“He’s just like that with everyone, overly friendly, kind of dorky.” 

“I see that.” 

You spent the entire night talking and getting to know Joshua, surprisingly finding out a lot of things that made you more and more intrigued about him. 

When the night finally came to a close, you left with his number and a plan to go out with just the two of you a few days later. Maybe Vernon being your friend was going to pay off more than you knew and his relationship guru advice brought you right into the hands of his very good friend. 

In the next few weeks you continued working and getting to know the pervious shy boy you thought Vernon was and going on actual good dates with his friend Joshua, who much to your surprise wasn’t the type to fuck you and forget you on a first date. 

Months passed by as your casual dating with Joshua went on and on, thinking that while it was good something with him was missing. But, you kept giving him a chance anyway. Unaware what that something was. 

On a night where you were getting ready to go out for a date you found Vernon outside of your apartment door, knocking on it wildly waiting for you to come and answer. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Y/n.” 

“Want to come in?” 

“No. Yes? Is that alright?” 

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird as hell.” 

Vernon just nodded his head and sat down on your couch. 

“Are you getting ready to head out? You look really nice. I feel like I’m interrupting something.” 

“No. I just got home from a date actually. Why?” 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

“It would help if you stopped saying sorry and told me what was wrong.” 

“Chae.” 

“Oh?” 

“She was over at my apartment. We were just playing video games and having some beer or whatever, but she tried to kiss me. And I let her at first, but I didn’t want to kiss her. I never have. I know she’s pretty and whatever, but like..” 

“Wait. So why did you come up here?” 

“Because I didn’t know what else to do? She’s still downstairs, she said she won't leave until we talk about what happened and she’s crying. I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested in her romantically and I liked being her friend, but she won’t take no for an answer. I just didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry I interrupted your nice night like this.” 

You walked over into the kitchen and poured Vernon a glass of water to hopefully settle him from rambling so much. 

“Can I ask you why you aren’t interested in her? I always assumed you guys had something going on.” 

“No. Never. She’s not my taste, I mean she’s really cool. But we’re really similar and I don’t want to date someone who reminds me too much of myself otherwise I’d get bored, but never break it off maybe because I’m too nice or maybe because I feel too comfortable. Does that make any sense?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Plus, I told her I liked someone else anyway and she got even more upset. She started accusing me of being a liar and leading her on.” 

“I’ll be honest and when I first met her I thought you liked her too, but the more I got to know you I realized you pretty much act that way around everyone you’re comfortable with.” 

“Right.” 

“Want me to help you get her out of your apartment?” 

“You would?” 

“Yeah. I still owe you for spilling that drink a long time ago.” 

“My god, no you don’t” 

“Shh, in my heart I do. Are you staying here or coming?” 

“I’ll come.” 

Heading down the elevator still in your nice date outfit, you grabbed his keys and unlocked his front door to find Chae still sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come home. 

Looking her up and down you found her dressed in shorts two sizes too small with Vernon’s T-Shirt draped over her body. Clinging to his pillow and looking you up and down. 

“What the fuck is she doing here, Vernon? She’s not a part of this at all.” 

“Actually, I’m here to ask you to politely get the fuck out of his apartment and stop making him feel bad for not liking you.” 

“You’re such a bitch, he does like me. The person he doesn’t like is you, so maybe you should get the fuck out of here. He just feels sorry for you.” 

“Chae, that’s not true and don’t talk to her like that.” 

“You’re actually defending her? She hasn’t been nice to me once since she met me. She just acts like an entitled brat around me all the time, making me feel stupid. She’s not a part of this conversation at all, don’t you understand how insane this is?” 

“She is a part of it actually, because she’s the girl I have a crush on and if I wasn’t so focused on making everyone else around me happy at the price of myself I would’ve been able to tell her that already instead of doing it like this.” 

“Verno-” 

“Her? You fucking like her? Seriously? She told me she never would date someone like you and that you’re dorky and a loser.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s never happened. You’re the one who parades around making me feel like an idiot and that I'm not good enough to be friends with Vernon. You know who’s being an entitled brat? You. You’re kicking this poor guy out of HIS apartment for not liking you back like a child, you’re sitting on his couch in HIS clothes, waiting for him to come back to you to try to pressure him into being with you when he told you he likes someone else. If you’re such a good ass friend to him like you constantly claim to be, then maybe be that good friend and get the hell up, give him his shirt back and get the fuck out or you can talk to him like the adult that you are and try to understand how he feels and continue being his friend. If you don’t like either option I don’t know what else to tell you. So, what will it be?” 

“If I talk to him, you need to get the fuck out of here, I don’t want you around.” 

“Fine with me, but stop being such an insufferable bitch and maybe have some compassion. Goodnight.” 

Not wanting to wait around for the elevator, you slammed Vernon’s door shut leaving them to have their conversation and walked up the seven flights of stairs back into your cozy home untainted by her bad energy. 

Hours later after you were showered and ready to destress from the absolute chaos your night has been, you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat on your to smoke a nicely rolled joint as a treat to yourself, leaving your phone inside your room and out of your eyesight. 

Suddenly mid-inhale another knock came to your door, half of you wanted to pretend you were asleep, but another part of you assumed whoever it was must have an issue with you smoking inside your home. 

Looking through the peephole of your front door, you saw for the second time in the night Vernon standing outside, now in his plaid pj pants and a hoodie pacing around waiting for you to answer. 

Taking in a deep breath you opened the door and took one look at his messy hair, realizing he must have been trying to sleep, but couldn’t. 

“Yes?” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Be my guest. Sorry I’m smoking weed inside, it smells weird.” 

“Can I have a hit actually?”

“Sure.” 

“Thanks.” 

Handing over the pink flower, Vernon took an incredibly long hit of the weed, exhaling it creating a cloud over the two of you. 

“Wine?” 

“Uh, not yet. Can I confess something to you?” 

“Is it about the girl you like?” 

“Sorry you had to find out like that. I was planning on telling you, but then you started seeing Josh and whatever else it just got away from me, it wasn’t the right time I know. I just let it slip.” 

“It’s okay, Vernon” 

“It’s not, especially when you’re not single. I feel like I ruined any relationship we had with saying it, even our platonic one.” 

“When you talked about ruining my nice night before? Didn’t you wonder why I was coming home from a date at 7:00pm? It was because I actually just broke it off with Joshua. He was really nice about it of course, but I just felt like we were friends and nothing more.” 

“Oh. So you’re not?” 

“Dating him? No.” 

“So I didn’t ruin it?” 

“My night? Not at all, it wasn't that great anyway.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” 

Vernon took the opportunity to steal your glass of wine and downed it right then and there whispering a small sorry to you for doing so. 

“Okay, so. I knew I liked you the moment we started working together. I wasn’t sure how to tell you ever, I wasn’t even sure how to talk to you because you made me feel so awkward, not because you were mean or anything, just because I knew I’d sound like a fucking dumb ass. But, that night we first walked home together and had a drink. I found out so much about you, I liked you even more so I asked you to come and hangout with us at my place, I figured I could get some courage to finally ask you out, which ultimately I failed at again and it just spiraled out of control. It’s just gotten more and more bad for me, like bad in the sense I just can’t stop falling for you and you didn’t know. Until I essentially fucked it up further telling you I like you infront of Chae, which was a mistake too. I keep fucking it up.” 

“You're doing pretty good if you ask me, but you should’ve just told me a long time ago then none of this crazy shit would have happened.” 

“That's charming, no?” 

“Only because it's you.” 

“Look, I don’t need an answer from you now or ever, just know I wont be fucking weird about it anymore. I’ll let you go to bed. I’ll see you in a few days at work and everything will be good.” 

Vernon got up and tried to walk towards your front door for an exit, but you caught up to him in time, grabbing him by his shoulders and spinning him around just in time to plant a perfectly placed kiss on his pink lips. 

“I like that you’re fucking weird and for your information I admire your dumb vhs tape collection.” 

Vernon took his opportunity to kiss you again, even longer this time than the first one, pushing his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as his hands snaked their way around your body. 

“You taste like vanilla too.” 

“Nice?” 

“Perfect.” 

“Would us having sex count as us fucking on the first date?” 

“This would be considered fucking before the first date.” 

“Ah, I see. Is that a no-no?” 

“I’ll let it slide.” 

Vernon lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his long torso, and carried you onto your couch, setting you down to be perfectly face to face with his enclosed penis, now beginning to grow inside of his pants. Dipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants you grazed the tips of your fingers over the head of his dick, making him shiver from the cold touch of your hands. 

Unwrapsping him like a present, his penis flew from his waistband and you quickly wrapped your lips around the soft pink skin, slightly creating a suction cup with your lips as his hands found their way to the back of your head and he fucked your face gently. 

As his speed picked up, the head of his dick was pounding its way to the back of your throat making him weak in the knees and unsure how much longer he could go on like this without relieving himself inside of your mouth. 

In order to savor this moment further, he against his better judgment pulled you off of him and got on his knees in front of you, running a finger down your neck, placing soft kisses on your lips and all the way down to your sternum, his fingers following along. 

Pushing over your panties to the side he ran those same fingers up and down your wet center, making you moan and push onto him, begging for him to put them inside of you without many words. 

When he was finally done teasing you, he placed his first two fingers at the entrance and ran his thumb over your clit making you squirm and let out a small moan, trying to grind your way further onto him. 

With the same speed as before he started pumping his fingers into your wet center, crawling his way into your body and making you overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Suddenly he was four fingers deep stretching you out as a preparation for you to be comfortable fucking his much larger dick when suddenly you squirted all over his bare chest, slinking back onto the couch in a fit of heavy breathing. 

Vernon didn’t let you off the hook though, he grabbed onto you hips, carrying you onto the floor under him. Finally fucking you through your previous orgasm, riding into the sensitive waters of your clit, softly sucking on your nipples as he slowly thrusted himself onto you, almost like it was the only way to cure the aching in your center. 

As the sweat and your bodily fluids mix their way together, the heavy breathing slowed to near silence, watching him in ecstasy fucking into you, noticing the beauty of the way his eyelashes ran across his cheeks and the small light gold flecks in his eyes. He’s never been more beautiful to you than he was tonight. 

Suddenly in your daze his lips came onto yours before he slightly lifted them off of you to whisper while they still grazed over the top. 

“Can I come inside?” 

“Please.” 

And with your verbal confirmation Vernon filled up your body with his semen and rode into his very own orgasm as well. 

Kissing you once again he got up and ran into your bathroom to grab a clean towel for you both to clean up with and laid back down next to you on the floor. 

Suddenly the two of you erupted into laughter, just thinking about how stupid you both were to see chemistry between you was about as hot as the sex you both indulged in. 

“I can’t believe you were going to leave.” 

“I can’t believe I thought you weren’t into me.” 

“Who said I wasn’t lying?” 

“The way you were moaning and fucking into me told me all I needed to know.” 

“Ok, hot shot.” 

“So about that first date?” 

“It’s on.” 

[st4rbe0m]

GIRLS LIKE BOYS LIKE ME !

how would enhypen prepare for their first date with you!

🩷 now playing - on melancholy hill by the gorillaz

🩷 contents - includes kissing! no gendered terms used but makeup is mentioned in Jake's. enha as losers who are trying their best™ on first dates

🩷 a/n - unlocked how to make gradient text im basically unstoppable now. this is my first time writing a headcanon sort of thing!! so I hope it's good. pls do reblog and leave comments - I would love to hear from readers :)

masterlist

HEESUNG would be the type to try and play it cool and then lose his mind then play it cool again like an on and off switch. He would ask Jay fashion advice super nonchalantly, but Jay would be able to see through his shit IMMEDIATELY lmao. But like the good friend Jay is, he helps Heesung pick out a cool yet not over-the-top fit. Definitely picks up flowers on the way so that they're fresh, and maybe even spritzes a bit of mouth freshener before ringing your doorbell because of course he ate onion rings before leaving the house out of nervousness •́‿,⁠•̀

I feel like he'd take you to an arcade for a first date - not only because it gives you both bonding time while playing games, but he also gets to show off his shooter skills in those lcd zombie games (the playing league all night is coming in clutch for him right now). Definitely also the type to stand at the claw machine for half an hour trying to get you a toy. "Seung it's always rigged, come on we can play another round of ice hockey instead." "It's not about being rigged anymore Y/N. It's a matter of pride and courage. Life or death." Like boy T-T it's never that serious king. Would walk you home while you clutch a GIGANTIC bear plushie that he may or may not have bribed some poor arcade worker for while pretending he won at the totally not rigged claw machine, which was concerning, but also very sweet. Sweet enough to warrant a kiss on the cheek by the end of the date ;)

JAY would literally be the most perfect, gentleman-ly guy and just drop dead gorgeous and AHDJKD sorry my first date feels for Jay are RAGING right now. Definitely would be jittery for sure, but is calm and level-headed. I feel like he's the type to ask you out on a date very traditionally after harbouring feelings for a while, watching from afar kind of like the XO music video you know, with the flower shop? Bouquet with red or white roses are a MUST and he'd extend his arm out for you to hold while he takes you out of your house (definitely the type to charm your parents that has them pushing you out the door because that boy is PERFECT)

He would probably take you out to a restaurant or OR hear me out - an in home date where he's kicked his members out somehow and has the living room set up like a restaurant with a table with some candles and dim lighting, food he prepared (house-husband material. wife him up right NOW.) so that he could show off his cooking skills. Wonderful date, would drop you off home as well. Honestly I don't see him kissing you on the first date because of all that chivalry you know, but don't worry he's just building it up to the more perfect moment to be your perfect boyfriend.

JAKE, this happy puppy would be so SO excited he'd be counting seconds up to when he would meet you :( He's so ADORABLE he would literally tell everyone knows about how he's scored a date with the finest person alive and then would proceed to spend a whole week just grinning in happiness cuz he's going on a date with you!!! I think more than flowers, he'd get you some sort of trinket or some chocolates as a gift :D and he'd be skipping along the way. TONS of compliments about your makeup and your outfit and just you in general.

I feel like he'd have a picnic-park sort of date thing setup, bonus if you have a dog because you best believe he'd be bringing Layla along. He'd ask his mom for help and pack the most scrumptious picnic ever, and just spend a day basking in the sun with you. The evening might even end up with you both walking hand-in-hand by the riverside, just chitchatting because this boy is a pro-yapper, and just enjoying each other's presence. Wonderful date that would end in a kiss wink wink ;) because he's just so so enamoured by you that he will literally lose his mind if he lets this shot go.

SUNGHOON is a loverboy at heart - as cool and chill he may seem on the outside you best believe he's giving that smile that makes his eyes crinkle while escorting you to your date. He's sharply dressed and has received the apropos speech from his sister about first date etiquettes even though he's quite a mindful man with great manners already. I see him getting white or pink tulips for the date.

He'd take you to a - I know it's a cliché, but an ice rink!! Because it's his element, and that confidence is what he wants to show you. That he's the one for you, or at least who he's trying to be. Sunghoon may seem like a player or someone who doesn't do serious attachment but with you, it just feels different. Giggling along with you and pushing you along gently, guiding you around the contours of the ice rink has his own heart doing pirouettes. And of course as clichè this is heading already, the date concludes with an accidental kiss that happens when you slip on the ice, bringing him down with you. You're both laughing at your hopeless nonexistent skating skills and all he can do in that moment is give you a small peck on the lips that makes his pale cheeks blush violently.

SUNOO is such a sweetheart, I have a feeling you would have already been friends for a while and that his feelings for you had been garnering for a while, until he just had to tell you. And so here he is, dressed down to a tee with the help of Jay's good fashion sense, and of course adding his own personal touch to it. This smitten cutie would be going all out with the gifts, trust. With a medium sized bouquet, he would also get a box of chocolates for you and maybe something else, like a scrunchie or a charm bracelet you'd mentioned you'd been eyeing for a while to him before.

Sunoo, in my mind, seems like such a pottery date kind of guy to me. He adores creativity and spending that time to do something a bit artsy with his favourite person just sounds so cute. He would maybe make a dish bowl sort of thing for him to keep at his sink for his skincare or balms or even vitamins, while you would make a key holder or a soap box. And he'd help you out with your paints, giving you ideas on what you could make, and listening to your inputs as well. Since you both were already friends before, it's a comfortable and secure environment around you both, that just makes this sunshine boy beam more than ever possible around you. "Sun that looks great!!", you'd encourage him, as he'd just wipe away whatever flecks of paint had gotten on your hand, basking in your praise. He might even take the opportunity to hold your hand, to which you of course had no complaints.

JUNGWON is panicking and Jay and Heesung are trying their best to call him down. Panicking because he overslept on his nap to freshen up for his date. But fear not, because this is where Efficient Wonie comes in and saves the day. It's like everything that must be done becomes natural to him - it's in his second nature to buy you flowers and ring up your doorbell, flashing that all so sweet grin of his. And after calming down the raging butterflies in your stomach, you both set off on the date he's meticulously planned.

I see Jungwon as a multi-activity date kind of guy, you know? Why not get the best of all the worlds with this guy? He has the date planned in his head for months now, considering how long he's been itching to ask you out. He starts the date off with a nice, cozy cafe visit where you both can pick up some beverages to set yourselves right. Following would be a movie, something he'd find meaningful enough for a first date. And he's trying his best to focus on the movie instead of the fingertips brushing against yours inside the popcorn bucket because he needs to know the plot for the next part of the date!! Which is taking you to a small diner after the movies to talk about what you both found interesting about the film - whether it was good or bad, characters and the theme. And just from there the conversation would flow. Jungwon would be so easy to converse with that you wouldn't even know where the time has gone, until you find yourself in front of your house with him, hours past in a blink. And with how adorable his dimples look under the street lamps as you bid him goodbye, you can't help but place a sweet kiss on them as you depart, leaving him lovestruck on the street.

RIKI wants to have a bit of fun on dates. Sure movies and arcades and picnics are fun. But this boy is a ball of energy when he's around the people he likes - if it isn't obvious from the way he's around his members and their comfort. And that's how you made him feel as well, comfortable in his own skin. So much so that it warranted a date with the dance prodigy, who couldn't get you off his mind at all. He'd definitely be much more confident in this date than the others for sure, but that doesn't mean he isn't a bit nervous!! But sweet boy is more nervous about making sure you have a blast tonight with him. And with the way you're laughing and accepting the flowers he got you, placing them in a vase, those worries fade almost immediately.

Riki would take you to a town carnival or an amusement park sort of setup for a date! This teasing little shit would totally use this opportunity for poking fun at how you would scream on the faster rides like the rollercoaster, and would claim how he would "protect you" if anything did happen (like dawg this is not a fight for honor it's legit just a rollercoaster). He'd win you some prizes from the side stalls, and you'd both share a large cotton candy. Would whine about the animal ears you insisted that he wear during the duration of the date, which you had bought from a concession stand. But he would also complain when you said he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't like it like T-T bro. The date reached its final note on the Ferris wheel, and it's not like you were scared of heights, it's just that you'd severely underestimated how high the ride went. "You can hold my hand if you're scared", Riki says jokingly. But you take the offer instantly, tightly clutching his hand as your eyes are wide and looking around as awe starts replacing the terror in your eyes. And despite the view, Riki could only look at you. Feeling his gaze on you, you turned your head around to only find yourself encaptured in a sweet and romantic kiss, surrounded by cool air miles above the ground.

[scoutofmymind]

Hiii, I’m not entirely sure if you do au one shots, but if you do please write a princess x knight trope with Luigi. Him looking out for you during his night shift, watching you with the fiancé your father chose for you despite you two being madly in love.

Your writing is gorgeous, btw! In awe <3

I’m Your Man — {Luigi x Reader}

Content: NSFW— MINORS DNI, kissing, p in v, virgin Luigi, fucked up kingdom politics, reader is a princess with an evil king father lol, this is NOT alpha/Omega or whatever, Luigi was raised as a wild animal killing machine, once again inspired by Mitski

Wc: 6,143

Notes: Like a wolf with its leg in a trap, he'd said, that familiar cruel smile twisting his lips. They'll tear through their own flesh to survive. Imagine what they'd do to yours.

Pain shapes them. The cold hardens them.

A common solider dies for his kingdom, a Grimguard kills for it.

AN: Thank you so so much for this request 💕 I once again took this and ran with it. It actually wasn’t my first Luigi x princess reader request sitting around in my inbox, so come one, come all! I have an inkling I might have questions about this one, so lemme know! I enjoyed writing this very much x

Ps: in order to keep this Drabble length and not fic length, I definitely cut out some backstory . But I hope despite that, it’s easy to follow along xo

You're an angel, I'm a dog

Or you're a dog and I'm your man

You believe me like a god..

I'll destroy you like I am

— I’m your Man, Mitski

Ironmere lies suffocated beneath its winter shroud, the castle's hundred hearths cold and dark save for one — your father's study. You've no choice but to seek its warmth, sprawled across a leather chair that's seen generations of royal lectures.

The fire pops and hisses, each crack of burning wood another tick in your mental count, anything to dull the familiar sermon.

"I must remind you," your father says, pipe smoke coiling around him. His shadow stretches across the study walls, cast by flames that paint the room in shades of amber and gold. "That the Grims are bred for loyalty, my dear." He turns to study your face, but you keep your eyes fixed on the dancing flames, refusing to meet his gaze. "Can be no more your equal than a well-trained dog."

The fire swallows his words, and you wonder if it, too, finds them bitter.

Since catching you at your balcony, tracing the Grimguards' movements with hungry eyes, your father has waged his own quiet war; each day brings a new warning, each meal seasoned with thinly veiled threats meant to plant fear where fascination grows.

But seeds of warning find no purchase in frozen earth.

"Speaking of which," he says, abandoning his chair to stand before the frost-kissed window. Beyond the glass, the Ironmere mountains pierce the steel-gray sky, their jagged peaks collecting snow. The ancient evergreens bow beneath their white burden, branches dripping crystal daggers of ice. "We've taken a new pup out of training. Young one, but promising. He'll be stationed near the South Tower."

They're bringing in a new generation again, stealing youth and binding it in black armor and cold metal muzzles.

Your father's cruelty wears a gentleman's mask, polished and pristine as the rings that adorn his fingers. Time has taught you to see beneath it, to recognize the calculated malice hiding behind words like duty and tradition.

The South Tower stands like a frozen sentinel, eternally facing winter's fury. It's where your father plants his fresh seeds of war, watching come morning with clinical interest as frost either hardens them into soldiers or claims them for the grave.

No coincidence leads new Grimguards there.

They either wake to see another dawn, their breath clouding behind their muzzles, or they join the nameless others whose bones might still rest beneath the tower's foundations.

This is how he plays at being divine — selecting who lives and dies with the casual interest of a man trimming roses; Nature's selection, he calls it, as if nature ever intended for young men to be bound in iron and left to freeze.

"Another child?" The words slip past your guard and your head turns toward him, though the fire still claims most of your attention, its warmth a mockery of comfort.

"No younger than yourself, my love." The endearment falls from his lips like frozen honey — sweet, yet somehow wrong. He speaks of sending a boy your age to stand in winter's cruelest depths, guarding a tower that has stood empty since before your grandmother drew breath. "We've discussed this before," he says, finally abandoning his view of his frost-touched kingdom to fix you with that measured stare. "You ceased being a child the moment you became heir to Ironmere."

You answer with silence and the loud protest of leather against leather as you shift in your chair.

Let him interpret the sound as he wishes — rebellion or resignation, it matters little. In this moment, you think of another young man who whose breath will freeze behind a muzzle while you sit before this fire, counting the ways your father fashions cruelty into crown.

"The muzzle ceremony is their rebirth." His voice takes on that familiar, aristocratic lilt—the same tone he uses when discussing wine vintages or the value of old tapestries. As if he speaks of art rather than chains. "This one's training scores are exceptional. He'll serve the crown well."

You've watched these ceremonies before, hidden in gallery shadows. Seen how they strip away names and replace them with numbers, how they forge living flesh into living weapons. The muzzles aren't just metal — they're shackles of status, marking each Grimguard as something less than human but more than beast. A perfect servant for your father's perfect kingdom.

In your mind, you see another humans eyes, bright with unshed tears as cold iron meets warm skin — another soul bound to Ironmere's frozen heart, while your father speaks of service as casually as one might discuss the weather.

Through frosted windows, you've studied their brutal dance since childhood.

The Grimguards train in Wolfdens outer courtyard where the stones are perpetually slick with ice, where one misstep means more than just a fall. They move like shadows given form, their black armor drinking what little sunlight winters here permit.

The training starts before dawn, when breath freezes mid-air and fingers can barely grip steel. They fight with those peculiar curved blades — somewhere between sword and sickle — that have become as much their signature as the muzzles that cage their faces.

The weapons are deliberately unwieldy at first, designed to strain muscle and test resolve.

Many break their own wrists learning to wield them.

You've counted the phases of their training through seasons.

First, the endless drills until their movements become reflex, then the sparring that leaves red droplets crystallizing on white snow. The masks come early — crude training ones at first, heavy iron things that make it hard to breathe, harder still to see. They learn to fight half-blind, to rely on instinct over sight.

To become creatures of pure reaction.

But it's the endurance training that haunts your dreams.

They stand for days in the bitter cold, perfectly still, until ice forms on their armor. They run barefoot through snow until their feet bleed, then run further still, and some disappear during these tests, their names never spoken again, as if Ironmere itself had swallowed them whole.

Your father calls it necessary refinement.

You call it what it is.

The systematic breaking of human beings until all that remains is loyal steel wrapped in obedient flesh.

It was the whimpering that drew you from your chambers — a sound so foreign in these stone halls where weakness dares not echo. Your footsteps fell like fresh snow as you traced that desperate keening, following it until it transformed into a metallic chattering, silver bars rattling as violent tremors wracked a body fighting to remember warmth.

He doesn’t turn when you found him in the South Tower's breezeway, though surely he heard you.

His silhouette matches the template they all conform to eventually — broad shoulders carved by endless drills, frame solid as the mountain itself, training blacks clung like a second skin, running from throat to wrist in an unbroken line of shadow. Only his gloved hands betrayed movement, fingers flexing and unflexing in a rhythm that matched his shivering.

The new muzzle catches what little moonlight filtered through the frost-laced windows, shaped like a snarling dogs snout, throwing silver patterns across the walls. Too new to have darkened with use, too rigid yet to have molded to his face.

Another wolf being broken to the bit, another hound learning to embrace his cage.

The closer you drift toward him, the more your father's warnings drum against your skull.

Never approach a new Grimguard alone. They're most dangerous before the muzzle takes hold.

The metallic chattering quickens like a death rattle, and the cold seems to deepen, carving into your marrow with ancient teeth, and memory washes over you as you recall exactly what they become — watched them train in the courtyards below your window, witnessed how they move like poetry written in violence, how they strike with the precision of winter's first killing frost.

But this one.

This one still trembles.

His control fractures with each shudder, and you remember how father once told you that a Grimguard is most lethal in the moments they're breaking.

Like a wolf with its leg in a trap, he'd said, that familiar cruel smile twisting his lips. They'll tear through their own flesh to survive. Imagine what they'd do to yours.

Pain shapes them. The cold hardens them.

A common solider dies for his kingdom, a Grimguard kills for it.

"Are you cold?" The whisper escapes before wisdom can catch it, and the transformation is immediate — his trembling ceases as if frozen in time, muscles locking into place with military precision.

Whether it's training or pure shock that stills him, you can't tell.

These new ones are always unpredictable, balanced on a knife's edge between their old instincts and their new purpose.

"I heard you whimpering," you continue, the words hanging dangerous and delicate in the space between you. Through the silver teeth of his muzzle, his breath comes in short, controlled bursts, each exhale creating ghost-white clouds that dissipate against the metalwork.

The pattern is deliberate now — mechanical — as if he's forcing each breath through a carefully memorized cadence, the same measured rhythm you've watched the veteran Grimguard use during their drills, when they're trying to master pain.

You wonder if he's already learning to lie with his body, or if he's simply too terrified to show weakness.

You hover in the uncertainty, unsure what response you're seeking.

The Grimguard are like shadows given form and function — you've spent years watching them from windows and walkways, learning their peculiar language of violence and restraint.

They move in packs through the fortress halls, all lethal grace and barely contained aggression, but you've also witnessed the moments they think no one sees.

A Grimguard pressing their muzzle against a packmate's shoulder after a brutal training session, the silent comfort shared between two hounds who lost their third to a snow bear's claws at the North Gate, and there’s something almost gentle in how they lean into each other then, these weapons your father has forged, finding warmth in the spaces between their brutal purpose.

But those moments are never meant for outsiders' eyes.

They're certainly not meant for the kings daughter, whose very presence reminds them of the hand that holds their leash.

You've seen how quickly they can shift from deadly grace to deadly intent, how the muzzles hide everything except the truth in their eyes.

He turns — slowly, deliberately — and you catch your first glimpse of eyes behind the silver latticework.

They're brown, almost gold in the dim light, and far too lucid for comfort. Not yet hollowed out by more training, not yet carrying that vacant winter-wolf stare that marks the veteran Grimguard.

These eyes study you with an unsettling clarity, as if cataloging every detail of your presence.

His head tilts, just slightly, reminding you of the hunting hounds when they catch an unfamiliar scent, and the motion is too natural, too human. Somehow that makes it worse, as most Grimguard move like they're reading from a manual of precise angles and measured steps.

The muzzle shifts as his jaw works beneath it, and you realize he's trying to decide if he's allowed to speak to you. New recruits often struggle with this — the complex hierarchy of who can command their voice and who must be met with silence.

The princess falls into a grey area their training hasn't covered yet.

Finally, his gloved hand rises, not toward you but to his own throat, fingers pressing against the high collar of his blacks where you know the control runes are etched.

The control runes are your father's masterwork — ancient symbols seared into the skin at throat and spine, binding each Grimguard to the fortress's will.

You've seen them during the marking ceremonies, watched how they burn with a cold blue light as they're carved, how they fade to silvery scars that pulse with each heartbeat.

They serve as both leash and collar, limiting how far a Grimguard can roam from the fortress walls, how much force they can use, who they can harm.

"My Lady." The words emerge like broken glass wrapped in velvet — smooth on the surface but jagged underneath. His voice carries that telltale distortion all new recruits have, as if speaking through layers of frost, but there's something else there. A tremor of defiance, perhaps, or desperation. "The cold is necessary. Part of our conditioning."

He swallows hard, the muzzle's intricate metalwork shifting with the motion. The runes must be burning now — you can see how his fingers dig deeper into his collar, tendons standing out against the black leather of his gloves, but he holds your gaze, those amber eyes still too present, too aware.

Most pups learn to lower their eyes by now.

You notice a tension in how he stands, like a bowstring drawn too tight, and you recognize the stance from watching new recruits, called the Unblooded, in the training yards.

"Necessary," you echo, tasting the word's bitter edge. You've heard your father use that same justification countless times in his workshops, watching dispassionately as fresh recruits screamed through their first exposure to the killing cold. The cold that reshapes them, hardens them, strips away everything warm and human until only the Grimguard remains.

His breathing hitches — just slightly — at your tone.

The runes pulse again, brighter now, a steady rhythm like heartbeats beneath his collar. You notice how his other hand has curled into a fist at his side, leather creaking with the strain, Fighting the compulsion to kneel, perhaps, or fighting the instinct to run.

Both would be equally futile.

"And who told you that?" The question slips out softer than intended, almost gentle — It's dangerous, this curiosity about their lives before the muzzles, before the markings. Your father has warned you repeatedly about seeing them as anything more than what they are now: tools, weapons.

But there's something about this one's eyes, about the way he still holds himself like he remembers another life, that makes you reckless.

You can hear the slight scrape of metal teeth as his jaw clenches beneath the muzzle. When he finally speaks, his voice has splintered, "The Keeper himself, my Lady. Your father."

You hear the sound of boots approaching, the groundslurkers making their rounds to assure everything is just-so.

"Inside," you murmur, touching the frozen door behind you. Not a command, but an invitation. A dangerous one. No Grimguard is allowed in the royal quarters unless specifically ordered by your father.

The punishment would be severe.

He knows this.

You see the conflict ripple across what's visible of his face, the way his fingers twitch toward his turtleneck collar, but the patrol's footsteps are getting closer, and you've already seen too much.

You push the door open wider, letting candlelight spill onto the frost-rimed stones. "Choose quickly."

For a moment, he's perfectly still, like the ice sculptures in the winter garden, then he moves — one fluid step through the doorway, silent as snow despite his armor, and you close the door just as the patrol rounds the corner, their heavy boots echoing past without pause.

In your chambers, he looks desperately out of place.

The black armor and cruel angles of his muzzle stark against the rich tapestries and furs. He stands rigid, carefully not touching anything, as if afraid his mere presence might taint the warmth of the room.

In all your life in the palace, you've never dared to get this close. The Grimguard are your father's shadows, his weapons — to be glimpsed from afar, never examined.

But now.

You circle him slowly, studying the way frost creeps along the joints of his armor, how it crystallizes in delicate patterns where leather meets metal. Up close, you can hear the soft crackle of ice forming and reforming with each breath, see how the cold radiates from him in barely visible waves that make the air shimmer.

The muzzle is even more intricate than you'd imagined.

Delicate silverwork overlays darker metal, creating a lattice of thorns and frozen vines that cage the lower half of his face. You can see now why they call it a muzzle rather than a mask — it's fitted precisely to his features, allowing just enough movement to speak when commanded, but designed to remind both wearer and observer of its purpose.

Control.

Your hand lifts before you can stop yourself, drawn to the impossible intricacy of it. His whole body goes rigid, but he doesn't step back. This close, you can see the minute tremors running through him — fighting against something you don't fully understand, or reacting to your proximity, or both.

"Does it hurt?" you whisper, fingers hovering just above the metalwork. "All the time, or only when-“

"Yes." The word comes out rough, barely above a whisper. He hasn't spoken this long without a command in who can say exactly how long. "Always. But more when..." He trails off, eyes flickering to your still-raised hand, then away.

More when fighting whatever's been done to him, you realize.

More when showing any trace of humanity.

Your hand trembles slightly, caught between pulling back and closing that final distance. The cold radiates against your skin, a warning or an invitation— you're not sure which.

You've never heard one of them admit to pain before.

They're not supposed to feel anything at all.

But he does feel.

He hurts.

His eyes widen, a flash of something — fear, hope? — breaking through their frozen surface.

"Let me help you," you say softly, reaching for the intricate clasps of the muzzle nestled in his wavy, black hair. "Just while we're here. No one will know."

"You can't," he says, the words strained. Even this small act of refusal seems to cost him. "The cold will hurt you. And if the Keeper—"

"My father isn't here," you interrupt, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounds. "And I'm not afraid of the cold."

You're close enough now to see how the metalwork digs into his skin, how even the simple act of speaking makes the thorns beneath the sides of his muzzle bite deeper.

All these years, you never knew the muzzles were lined.

Never wanted to know.

His breath catches as your fingers brush the first clasp, but he remains perfectly still, caught between what he's been made to be and what you're offering him — a moment of freedom, no matter how brief.

The clasp comes free with a sharp click, and his whole body jerks as if struck. A soft sound escapes him — pain or relief, you can't tell, as frost spreads rapidly across the metal where your fingers made contact, but you refuse to pull away.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, working on the next clasp. "I'll be quick." The cold bites into your fingertips now, sharp and hungry, but you can see how the muzzle's grip has already loosened slightly, allowing him to take a deeper breath. “Are they all like this?”

His hands clench at his sides, trembling with the effort to remain still, and each release of a thorn seems to send shockwaves through him, as if the very act of being freed is its own kind of agony. But he doesn't stop you, doesn't pull away — and that tells you more than words ever could.

The facade of silver and shadow begins to come apart under your careful touch, revealing glimpses of what lies beneath; you try not to think about how long it's been since anyone has seen his true face, or why your father thought it necessary to cage him so thoroughly.

"No," he manages, voice tight as you work on another clasp. "Not all. This one is special." There's a bitter edge to the word that makes you pause.

The implications sink in slowly. Your father must have designed this one specifically for him — more thorns, more pain, more control. Because he was different somehow. Because he fought back.

You examine the cruel metalwork with new understanding, noting how the thorns are positioned to punish speech, expression, any hint of defiance, your fingers tracing a particularly deep puncture mark, and he goes completely still, hardly breathing.

"Almost done," you promise, though your hands are nearly numb from the cold now. Each clasp reveals more evidence of long-term torture disguised as restraint. The more you see, the more questions burn in your throat, “Why’d they give you one like this?”

He's quiet for so long you think he won't answer, the final clasp coming free under your trembling fingers, but he makes no move to remove the muzzle completely.

"I remembered," he finally says, "Something I wasn't supposed to. My name." His eyes meet yours, and there's something terrible in their depths — not just pain, but knowledge. "They take everything when they make us, but I kept one thing."

He stops abruptly, as if even this small confession costs him dearly, and you can see the thorns pressing deeper as he speaks, drawing pinpoints of darkness that might be blood, might be something else entirely, yet he hardly reacts.

The pain hardly registers.

A weapon isn't supposed to remember who it used to be.

But this one does.

“What’s your name?”

His breath catches at your question, and you can see him fighting against years of conditioning, against the very magic that binds him, and the room grows colder, frost crystallizing on the windowpanes.

"L-" he starts, then gasps as if the very attempt causes him physical pain. His hands clench. "Luigi," he finally manages, the name coming out in a rush of frozen air.

You repeat the name softly, testing its weight, and he shudders at the sound of it from another person's lips. How long has it been since anyone has called him by his real name? How many years of being nothing but a number, a weapon, a Grimguard?

This is where it began.

And soon, you find yourself inventing excuses to avoid Duke Aldrich of Brindsborough's tedious evening calls. Instead, your nights belong to these stolen moments; you and Luigi seated on the floor of your chambers, knees touching, sharing whispered confessions in the candlelight.

He teaches you how the Grimguards sleep — bodies intertwined for warmth in the cold stone kennels, finding comfort in the press of limbs and shared breath. The first time he shows you, hesitantly arranging your bodies so your back fits against his chest, you understand.

It's not just for warmth — it's about trust.

You learn to read the minute changes in his expression, the things he can't say even without the muzzle. He learns your tells, too — the way you twist your rings when you're anxious, how your laugh changes when you're truly happy versus when you're playing the perfect princess.

These evenings become your refuge whilst the rest of the castle prepares for your upcoming marriage to a man you barely tolerate, you and Luigi build something fragile and precious in secret candlelight.

You tell him about the time you were seven, and you snuck your injured falcon into your bedroom instead of letting the gamekeeper "take care of it." You'd splinted its wing with strips torn from your favorite dress and fed it scraps from your dinners for weeks. Your father had been furious when he found out — not because you'd ruined the dress, but because you'd shown weakness.

Mercy was unbecoming of a princess.

The next memory stands out sharp and clear — that particular night when everything shifted.

You'd barely managed to secure the door's heavy lock before Luigi abandoned his usual restraint, muzzle yanked off. One moment you were turning, the next your back hit the floor with a soft thump, driving a surprised laugh from your chest.

His movements were pure instinct, almost feral — nothing like the rigid control the Grimguards usually displayed. Cool lips and nose traced your neck once you’d pulled his muzzle away, your collarbone, your hair, erasing every lingering trace of Duke Aldrich's cloying cologne. Each brush of contact sent shivers down your spine, not from cold but from the intensity of his need to claim, to possess.

"Marking your territory, are you?" you whispered through breathless giggles, fingers threading through his hair. The words made him pause, and you felt him tense — caught between embarrassment at his display and a deeper, darker urge to continue.

You could feel his breath against your throat, quick and uneven. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "He touched you. I could smell him on you all evening. I couldn't. I can't-“

Instead of pulling away, you tugged him closer, understanding flooding through you. This wasn't just possession — it was protection, desperation, love transformed by whatever magic had remade him into something wild and fierce. "I'm here," you whispered. "I'm yours."

A sound rumbled deep in his chest — not quite human, not quite animal—and his grip on you tightened almost painfully. The temperature plummeted, frost blooming across the flagstones in intricate spirals, but you weren't cold.

Not where he touched you.

"Mine," he breathed against your skin, the word holding years of denied wanting. His control, already fragile, splintered further. You felt the magic that bound him surge and twist, fighting against this claiming that went against everything they'd bred him to be.

Grimguards weren't meant to want.

Weren't meant to possess anything but their duty.

Yet here he was, trembling above you, eyes dark with need as they met yours. One hand cradled your face with impossible gentleness, even as the other gripped your waist with bruising intensity. The contradiction of him — deadly weapon and tender protector, ice and burning want — made your heart race.

"Say it again," he pleaded, voice rough with desperation.

You reached up, traced the scars where the muzzle had been, and watched his eyes flutter closed at your touch. "I'm yours, Luigi," you whispered. "Only yours."

The moment your fingers trace those scars, Luigi shudders violently, a full-body tremor that sends cascades of ice crystals shimmering through the air. His breath hitches, catches — no one has ever touched him there, not with such tenderness, not since they first bound him.

But then he does something that steals your breath — he leans into your touch. Like a half-wild thing learning trust, he presses his face against your hand, nuzzling into your palm.

His skin is cold as ever, but his breath comes hot against your wrist. When his lips brush your skin — tentative, questioning — you feel the ghost of frost patterns blooming up your arm.

"Warm," he murmurs, sounding almost drunk on the sensation. "You're so warm." His eyes are half-lidded now, tension melting from his shoulders even as his grip on your waist remains possessive, and the contradiction fascinates you — how he can seem so dangerous and so vulnerable in the same moment.

You trace another scar, and this time he makes a sound that's almost a purr, deep in his chest. The ice spreading across your chambers takes on a soft, pearlescent glow, as if reflecting his pleasure. It's intoxicating, this power to gentle him with just your touch, to make the fearsome Grimguard melt like snow in spring.

When his eyes open to meet yours again, they're heavy with an emotion that makes your heart stutter. The gold in them has darkened to midnight, pupils blown wide. "More.” he whispers, and it's both a plea and a demand.

With trembling fingers, you map the constellations of his scars, each touch drawing new sounds from him — soft gasps and broken whimpers that make your chest tight. The marks are smooth beneath your fingertips, silver-white against his olive skin. You trace them all; the deep grooves where the muzzle's straps cut in, the lighter marks across his jaw where they tested different bindings.

His control slips further with each caress, and frost flowers bloom and fade on your skin where his hands roam, leaving trails of delicious cold that make you shiver. When your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth — where the metal once forced his silence — he catches it gently between his teeth, eyes locked on yours as he presses a kiss to your fingertip.

"They told us we couldn't feel," he murmurs against your hand. "That the binding stripped everything but duty.” He presses his forehead to yours, breathing ragged. "With you, I feel everything."

You curl your fingers into his hair and pull him down, eliminating the last space between you. His lips are cool against yours, but they warm quickly as you show him this new way to be close, to trust, to want.

He learns fast, desperate and eager, like a man who's been dying of thirst finally given water.

You feel it in every desperate roll of his hips, that untamed creature beneath his skin — the one the Grimguard could never fully bind. It surfaces in the frost that spreads beneath his palms where they bracket your head, in the way his breath comes in ragged pants against your neck, hot despite his perpetual cold.

He's beautiful like this — composure shattered, cheeks flushed an impossible pink against his beautiful skin, and his eyes are blown wide, that ethereal chestnut brown nearly swallowed by black, and they catch the light like stars when he gazes down at you.

There's something almost painful in his expression — wonder and desperation and disbelief all tangled together.

The friction between you draws broken sounds from his throat, primal and unrestrained. His movements are instinctive, graceless — so different from his usual precise control, each roll of his hips against your thigh becoming more frantic than the last, his whole body trembling with need.

"Please," he gasps, though you're not sure what he's begging for. You’re almost certain he doesn't know either. His fingers curl against the floor, "Please, I can't- I need-"

You reach up to thread your fingers through his hair again, drawing him down until his forehead rests against yours, and he whimpers at the contact, hips stuttering in their rhythm.

This close, you can see every emotion flash across his face — vulnerability and hunger and love so intense it steals your breath.

The wild thing in him recognizes its match in you, and neither of you want to tame it anymore.

His voice trembles as he tries to find the words, years of enforced silence warring with raw need. You cradle his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

"Tell me," you whisper. "I want to hear you say it."

"I-" he starts, then breaks off with a shaky exhale.

"I need to be closer.” He whispers, his movements between your legs desperate and juvenile, but there’s something so, so sweet about it.

He’s reduced himself to raw and visceral need, and cares little for how it makes him look, this feared Grimguard, a hound who sleeps in piles with his pack, a weapon of mass destruction, a human being. He’s flayed himself open for you, guts spilling forth, red hot and oxblood — this primeval need, this unfiltered want.

It simply is not something you’d ever find in anyone else.

Specifically the Fiancé your father has hand-selected.

Luigi groans as you guide him where you need him, the sound low and broken against your throat. Your nightgown rides higher, silk cool against fevered skin. His grip on your hip tightens instinctively, and you gasp at the perfect pressure of frost-touched fingers.

Each roll of his hips is hungry, instinctive — like his body remembers what his mind was forced to forget. You wonder if he dreams of this, if behind those crystalline eyes he imagines all the ways he could unravel you. If during those long, cold nights in his chamber, thoughts of you haunted him like this.

The friction builds a delicious heat that makes your head spin. You arch against him, chasing more, and his breath hitches at the way you move. His eyes are wild when they meet yours — desperate and wanting and almost afraid of how much he needs this.

The etiquette mistress would faint if she knew the thoughts that filled your head during lessons now — memories of frost-touched skin and desperate sounds and the way Luigi says your name like a prayer.

You guide Luigi beneath you, and he goes willingly, eyes wide with wonder as you settle above him, his hands tracing paths of up your thighs, mapping you like something precious, something sacred, each touch leaving ghostly patterns on your skin that fade like morning mist.

The silk of your dress whispers between you as his fingers trail higher, catching on your collarbone where your necklace rests, transfixed by the way the pendant rises and falls with your quickening breath, by how the gold warms against your skin while his touch remains winter-cold.

"Closer," you echo, fingers curling in the hem of his black shirt. You draw it up slowly, exposing him inch by inch, the moonlight streaming through the window catching on old scars that map his abdomen like constellations — some precise and surgical, others jagged and cruel.

Your heart aches at their implications, but now isn't the time to count his wounds.

Not when he's looking at you like this, like you're everything he was told he could never have.

His breath hitches as your hands explore the newly exposed skin, and the temperature drops further with each touch, frost spiraling out beneath him in intricate patterns that match his racing pulse.

"Please," he gasps, and you're not sure if he's begging you to stop or never stop. Maybe both. The wild thing in him is closer to the surface than ever, making his eyes glow like arctic stars in the darkness. "I need- I don't know how to-"

You lean down until your foreheads touch, breaths mingling in the frost-edged space between you. His skin radiates winter's chill everywhere except where his heart beats strong beneath your palm. You can feel him trembling, power barely contained.

"Let me show you," you whisper against his lips, cradling his face. His eyes are luminous in the darkness, filled with vulnerability and desperate trust. The temperature drops as his control frays further, delicate patterns of frost blooming across every surface.

"I've never-" he starts, voice breaking.

You silence him with a gentle kiss. "I know," you breathe. "I've got you. You're safe, Lu."

His fingers flex against your arms as emotions war across his face — years of isolation and fear battling with his need to be known, to be accepted exactly as he is. The wild thing in him strains closer to the surface with each passing moment. "Let go," you tell him softly. "I got you."

You pour all your love into another kiss, wet and hot, showing him that he's worthy of gentleness, of care.

That he doesn't have to hold himself back anymore.

And he doesn’t.

You watch in wonder as his composure fractures, that usually fixed expression melting into something vulnerable and raw, his hands grasping you like an anchor as his careful control slips further.

The temperature drops with each shared breath, but you've never felt warmer.

His face — usually so guarded, bearing scars that speak of battles fought alone - is transformed. Open. Trusting. His lips part on silent pleas as his eyes lock with yours, glowing like arctic stars, and the wild thing in him is closer to the surface than ever.

You've never seen anything more beautiful than this proud, powerful man allowing himself to be soft for you. To be vulnerable. His fingers flex against your skin as another tremor runs through him.

"You're safe," you whisper, rocking your hips against his in a slow rhythm that allows the both of you to adjust. "You're mine."

The sound he makes is something between a sob and a prayer, raw with years of loneliness and need. You kiss him deeply, showing him with every touch that he's worthy of this — of pleasure, of care, of love freely given, and he takes just as his heart desires.

It hardly takes him any time before he’s got the hang of it, raw and needy, soft but strong.

He shoves his face in your neck once you’ve been laid on your back again, his teeth biting gently into the soft flesh of the curve in your shoulder, his instincts still lingering, but you welcome them and each mark he leaves against your skin, the rhythm of his hips sloppy and wild but achingly free, your own body cherished as if he’d come undone at your altar.

He worships you, just as the Grimguards are meant to worship their Keeper — his devotion raw and unfiltered, his gaze defiant and steady, “I love you.” He says, the words feeling like a foreign language, but one you had taught him to speak. “So much it hurts.”

[cordjefferson]

Hi! Not sure if you still answer questions on here, but I feel lost as a screenwriter right now. In my final year of film school, I’m afraid the “industry” we are about to be let out into no longer exists. I don’t want to go back to journalism, but I also don’t want to fail at screenwriting in vain. I’ll keep going, but just wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place. Hope you’re well.

A few days after Trump was elected the first time, I called my dad to complain and commiserate. He listened to me worry for a few minutes and then he said, "You know, when I was a young man, it was common to wake up and find out that Medgar Evers had been killed or that Malcolm X had been killed or that Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, or that another person had been lynched somewhere not too far from where I grew up. It was terrible, but we had to go on living our lives."

It was a helpful reminder that shit's always sucked -- in many ways it used to suck worse. That doesn't mean your fear is unfounded. You have every right to be afraid as all the world's ghouls circle their wagons in an effort to eternalize their wealth and influence, thus making our already intractable problems feel even more intractable. But the great news is that now is the perfect time for you to make your art.

Hard times can make for excellent work. Consider that punk rock and rap blossomed under Reagan. I'm currently in the middle of a novel called The Oppermanns, which follows a trio of German-Jewish brothers in 1933 Berlin dealing with the rise of Nazism. It's a great book on its face, but the whole piece becomes even more interesting when you discover that it was written by a German-Jew in real time as the Nazis rose to power.

Even if what you write isn't taken seriously at first, making art is never a failure. Artists aren't athletes, meaning you don't need to produce your best work before you turn 35 and your knees give out. Creativity is a lifelong pursuit. You'll only get better at it the more you live, learn, and grow. And because the winds of industries and the world are always changing, allowing their vagaries to scare you into inaction would be a death sentence.

I had a very long dry spell in the year 2014. I went to meeting after meeting trying to get into a TV writers' room and was rejected over and over again. After almost nine months of being told no, I finally emailed my manager one night to say that I was going to quit "working" in TV and go back to what was left of my journalism career. He asked me to stick it out for one more month, and two weeks later I got an interview with someone who hired me. Work has fortunately been pretty steady ever since. So, of course, stubborn persistence is also a valuable tool in all of this.

I can't imagine I'm saying anything that you don't already understand somewhere in your heart. You know that you've picked a challenging career. The arts are infamously cutthroat and chancy, and many of your contemporaries are going to quit somewhere along the line. It's a tough road to hoe, and the only thing that makes it at all tolerable is the ability to find value and joy in the making of your thing, whatever that may be. If writing something feels like it's been done in vain because you don't sell it or it doesn't become a hit TV show, I recommend you don't do this work. Only do it if the doing of it is what sustains you, because the doing of it may be what has to sustain you forever.

I'm rooting for you from afar. XO