#I kept being like ‘I’m so sorry I don’t know how this works’ but I never had anyone teach me so I must give myself grace

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 2 | masterlist

-

Sweat beads on your brow as summer approaches its zenith. Its hottest point. You splurge on an iced caramel latte from the gas station on the way over and pick one up for John as well. Your arm is already stretched out when he opens the front door to let you in, offering it to him. 

“I, uh…thought you might want one as well,” you explain, stuttering through your words. Crumbling under his amused expression. 

You crave it though. His approval. That fond smile that seems reserved especially for you. The rare murmured good girl, his hand sometimes coming down to ruffle your hair. Even the memory of it makes your breath get lodged in your throat. You covet every crumb of it.

He takes the iced latte from you though before heading out for the day. Gift received. Even squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he shuts the door behind him, and you manage to keep from swooning until you hear his car pull out of the driveway. 

You stand by the window with the baby pressed to your chest for so little that you can’t blame when a little fist tugs at your hair. 

“Sorry, lovie,” you whisper into his fuzzy hair. Inhale deeply. 

It’s not as though you’re starved for things to do. Were John’s son a few years older, you might have your work cut out for you, but there’s still plenty to do around the house even when you put the baby down for his morning nap. You save the vacuuming for when baby is awake and you’re not in danger of hearing him suddenly start crying through the baby monitor, but you dust and fold laundry and start the dishwasher and take the recycling out and by the time the baby is ready for lunch, you’ve already broken a light sweat. 

Let no one tell you that babysitting is a walk in the park.

That being said, you do put the baby in his stroller for a walk in the park after lunch. 

The park isn’t terribly far from John’s house, so coupled with the short path around the park and the walk back, you’ll get a good amount of steps in today without risking the baby being late for his mid afternoon nap. 

It’s hard to not have an accidental, forbidden thought. Something like I wonder if anyone thinks I’m the baby’s mom when you push the stroller past a group of moms gathered together near the jungle gym, their kids sprinting on wobbly legs and climbing like dexterous little wildlings. 

Those thoughts are dangerous though, best kept under wraps. Clandestine. Because once you start having those thoughts, they never really go away; they just get relegated to a part of your brain that switches on when the lights go off and you think about what it must have been like to carry a baby in your stomach for nine months. 

You’re in danger, girl, a small voice in your head warns you. It’s hard to hear her clearly these days. 

John comes earlier for once, around midday. It takes you by surprise. You jump when the door opens, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot and, in that same second, a wave of terror and rage washes over you, your heart already racing at the thought of someone breaking in while it’s just you and the baby home. You spring to your feet, hands already trembling by your sides, and then his familiar shape walks into the room, boots still on and all.

He pauses when he sees your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, heart still racing. “I thought you were…” Your voice trails off towards the end because you don’t know how to say it without sounding silly. 

His eyes cut to the baby in the bouncy chair behind you, your body still stood protectively in front of him, and then they soften. 

“No, that’s on me—should’ve given you a ring before I left,” he says, a light apology in his voice. He throws his keys into the bowl in the foyer before stalking towards you. You stare up at him wide eyed, only blinking when he ruffles your hair before bypassing you to go pick up his son. 

“How’s my baby?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the baby’s milksoft cheek, and your heart spins and cartwheels in your chest. All sorts of tricks that keep you rooted in place, unable to manage a single word. “You been good today?”

I’ve been good, you almost croak out, the words on the tip of your tongue. You swallow. Force them back down. You’re not his baby. 

Another dinner invitation that you can’t turn down. Not because it wouldn’t be polite but because you couldn’t muster up the will to refuse even if you really did have plans. Lucky that you don’t. 

When he puts the baby down to sleep for the night, you linger by the door, sure you’re a platitude or two away from being shown out for the night. John calls your name from the kitchen though, drawing you deeper into the house again. 

“Go put something on,” he instructs when you idle under the archway of the door. With his back to you, you can’t make out the expression on his face, leaving you no choice but to gawp at the undulation of his shoulder muscles as he washes out the dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. “You want something to drink?”

“Just, uh—” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Just juice, thanks.”

You can’t settle on anything to stream, nothing perking your interests; or maybe you’re just too antsy to make an informed decision on what to watch right now. 

There are other things to worry about. Like John moving around in the other room or the way your denim shorts ride up when you sit down, bunching up at the crotch. You make an attempt to lift your hips and pull them back down as much as you can, but you panic and abort your plan when John comes into the room, embarrassed at the thought of being caught readjusting yourself. 

The cushion under you bounces slightly when John drops himself down onto the couch beside you, the motion making your shorts ride up even more. You wince when the seam presses tight against your clit, on the edge of mildly painful and turning you on. 

“Here, sweetheart,” he says, putting his own drink down on the coffee table before handing you your glass of juice. 

“Thanks,” you bleat, taking a sip almost instantly to mask the look on your face, afraid he’ll read the panic there and press for details. 

He sits closer than usual, as he always does these days. It’s not something you ever discuss. It just seems to happen. Slowly, like ice sheets drifting over water. One day you’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the next he’s all up in your space, thigh to thigh with you while the living room goes dark and the TV glows, the reflection throbbing against the glass. An ever-flickering light that illuminates the side of his head when you peer up at him.

Your tongue rests against the roof of her mouth, dry; sparing.

With his arm resting on the back of the couch over your shoulder, the scent of him is almost smothering. Each inhale makes your head spin. If you were to tilt your head to the side, you’d be level with his armpit, his scent strongest there, and that thought spins in your head like a merry-go-round until someone in the movie you’re supposed to be watching shouts, dragging your attention back to it. 

“Christ, these are little, huh?” John grunts, suddenly reaching over to pinch the frayed ends of your shorts between his fingers. “This what the kids these days are wearing?” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. Your body’s so hot that you feel like you’re swimming in heat, sweat prickling at your hairline and on the back of your neck. 

“I-it’s hot out,” you stutter, your whole body suddenly hot. With how high your shorts have ridden up, his fingers are precariously close to your core, just a hairsbreadth from skimming up your inner thigh and brushing against your folds, now plump and sensitive. 

You wonder if he can make out the outline of your pussy from underneath your shorts. They hug into the seam of your legs, pinching the skin of your inner thighs. You don’t dare glance down. 

He hums, pulling his hand away and you stare wide eyed at the television in front of you when you shift and the glide between your legs tells you just how wet you are. Sitting on the couch next to your boss twice your age with a wet pussy. 

You lean forward to try and readjust, masking the movement by reaching blindly for your glass on the coffee table at the same time. You must pick up the wrong glass by accident though because when you go to lift it to your lips, John’s hand stops you, fingers curling around yours and easily tugging the glass away from your mouth. 

“No, baby, that’s mine; bit young for a drink, aren’t you?” John chuckles, eyes squinting with his smile. 

“I’m legal,” you frown, pouting. 

He acts like that sometimes; like he doesn’t keep track of how old you are. 

“All right, but only a sip, got it?” he cautions, handing you the glass. 

You don’t know why you take it. You would’ve been better admitting to your mistake and putting the glass back down. 

He chuckles when you wince on your sip, nearly spitting it up. Horrifically embarrassing because it’s not like you’ve never had a drink before. You’ve gone out for drinks plenty of times with friends. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, taking the glass from you and flicking his knuckle against your bottom lip as he does. “That’s what I thought.”

And it happens again and again. Head resting on his shoulder when you drift off on the couch before he shakes you awake. In the grocery store, he comes up behind you while you’re pushing the cart and puts his arms around to steer you down another aisle, his broad chest pressed against your back. 

You hold your tongue. Bite off and chew the words. Because it’s nothing; it’s innocent. You’ve known from the get-go that John is more of a man of action than words. If anything, you’re the one reading too much into things. Little touch-starved girl from the bad side of town. It’s not his fault that you preen when he praises you; that you bunt your head against his hand when he ruffles your hair. Every drop of affection soaked up, savoured. Nourishing your heart and your soul. So lonely, so wanting. All those years holed up on your own, no warm body in the bed beside you. 

Then John Price waltzed in and you expected to keep everything sealed up tight in your chest.

So it’s no wonder you gorge yourself on his touch and hope he doesn’t notice the way you lean into it. The rabbit-quick beat of your heart. Your want simmering under your skin, a disgusting, base thing desperate for gentleness. 

You wonder if he sees the same thing when he looks at you.

In the heat of summer, John invites you to join him and the baby for a weekend at the beach in Portugal.

You only say yes because it’s the dog days of summer. At the beach, there’ll be umbrellas to sit under and beer coolers of cold drinks and the ice cold Atlantic to swim in. Plus, you’ve had little opportunity in your life to travel—you’ve barely stepped foot in France, never mind Portugal. But John has friends with a house in the Algarve that have graciously offered him the week, so who are you to say no to such a thoughtful gesture? 

The only reason you consider not going is because you can’t shake the sense of foreboding. 

“Baby, can you get my back?” John asks when you arrive at the beach the first day of your trip, and when you turn back to him, you have to act quick to catch the sunscreen lobbed your way. 

That’s how you find yourself kneeling in the sand behind him, rubbing sunscreen on his back. His shoulders flex under your hands, and you can feel the muscle bunching and relaxing with each swipe across his shoulder blades. The worst is when you get to his low back. John’s groans are obscenely loud, guttural rumblings from the back of his throat. Ravenous. 

“Okay, that’s everything,” you chirp, rubbing the excess off on your thighs. 

“Good,” John says, twisting around. “Now it’s your turn.”

Your eyes widen.

“Wait—I don’t need to—”

You don’t know quite how he manages it, but a couple minutes later, you find yourself lying flat on your stomach on your beach towel, John squirting a good amount of sunscreen onto the middle of your back. All you get as a warning is the sunscreen bottle tossed to the ground beside your head before two big hands come down to your back to massage the cream into your skin. 

There’s nowhere for you to go when John throws a leg over your hips to straddle you. He holds the majority of his weight off you, but despite his best efforts, you can still feel his dick against your ass, his loose swim shorts doing nothing to hold him in place. 

He doesn’t ask for permission before undoing the knot holding your bikini top together, one quick pull and then the garment loosens around your chest. You can feel the fabric pool around you on the towel. 

“John, you—” you start, almost coming up onto your elbows before realizing that your top won’t be coming with you if you do. 

“Just gotta make sure I get your whole back, baby,” he reassures you, both hands gliding up your back to curve around your shoulders before dragging back down. “Won’t be more than a minute.”

It’s no use calling him out on the lie because there’s nothing you could do even if you did.

With hands as big as his, his fingers can’t help brushing the sides of your tits every time he smooths his hands down your back. You bite your lip nearly raw to keep from letting your moans escape, toes curling in the sand underneath you and thank god John is facing the other way or else your arousal would be clear as day to him. The gusset of your bathing suit is already damp and you haven’t even gotten in the water yet. 

His hands drag up and down your back, lathering the lotion into your skin, massaging it into the muscle. Each pass of his hands making your eyes roll back, breath coming out in choppy pants. Tweaking when the palms of his hands easily encompass your shoulders, nearly tickling under your arms.

“There we go. All done,” he announces, jolting you out of the lustful fog you’d slipped into during his ministrations. 

“All good?” you ask, a touch breathy. 

“Mhm,” John rumbles, smoothing a hand up your back one last time, just to double check. Only clenching your fists until the skin around your knuckles tighten keeps you from shuddering at his touch. “Lemme just—” 

Your throat constricts when you feel him reknot the back of your bikini top, fingers quick and deft for their size. He’s tied knots before. It’s better not to let that thought sink in too deep. 

Turning over onto your back takes a near insuperable amount of energy, the rest wrung from your body by the hands now preoccupied with readjusting his shorts. 

“You alright if I take him for a swim?” John asks, holding his squirming son against his bare chest. 

You wave him off, a hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

You can’t help but stare at his ass as he walks away, practically mesmerised. In the water, he wades up to his knees with his son still cradled in one arm. The ocean water laps at his shins, dappled with light, low waves in the distance scintillating at their peaks. The ends of his swim shorts cling to his legs as the water leaches into the fabric. 

Trying to keep your eyes off him is a losing game, not when John’s clad in nothing more than a pair of swim trunks, broad shoulders and chest on display, and now your hands tingle with the memory of how they felt rubbing suntan lotion over his skin. His trunks are pulled taut around thick thigh muscles, just barely loose enough to keep from being indecent. 

The panic returns when you catch some nearby women ogling him, one angling her body towards him like she’s considering walking over, and that’s when your heart beats too fast and you stumble to your feet, leaving your beach towel and umbrella behind to go join John in the water. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets when you’re only a few steps away, shivering when the cold water touches your feet. “Missed us, did ya?”

He reels you in with his free arm, pulling you into his side before transferring the baby into the cradle of your arms. Doesn’t even flinch when your breast is pressed against his side, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. As if your cheek wasn’t nearly flush with the pelt of dark hair growing in whorls on his chest, your eye level with a dark, flat nipple. 

The girls hovering nearby scrunch their noses up when they notice you snuggled up against John’s chest. Assuming you must be someone special for him to be holding you that way; like a girlfriend or a wife—

You choke off the rest of that thought before it can take root. 

The rest of the trip is no better. You’re a right mess made worse by the cloying heat and the forced proximity. At the restaurant, John pulls your chair out for you and then sits right beside you, arm resting on the back of your chair while he talks, cologne clotting the air around you. He’s popular wherever he goes—easy candour and winsome smile able to make anyone, from the servers to the other patrons, want to get to know him better. 

All you can do is bask in the radiance; a sun in the middle of any room. 

Back at the house, you sleep in the other room, only a single, flimsy wall between your room and John’s. The walls are so thin that you can hear every groan and snore and snuffle, head ringing with his sounds until you fall asleep and they permeate your dreams instead. 

At seven in the morning, you wake to the sound of him rolling over in his bed, the mattress squeaking under his weight, and taking himself in hand. The sound of flesh against flesh; the groans bitten off too late for you not to catch them, sweat beading on your hairline as you stare at the white wall and picture John on the other side, big chest panting with his breaths as he tugs on his cock. You listen until his final groan, fingers petting at your clit until you have no choice but to turn your head into your pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As best as you try to put it out of mind, you can’t meet his eyes at breakfast. 

You flinch when the same hand that he must’ve used to jerk himself off comes down onto the top of your head when John goes to refill his mug of coffee. “Sleep well last night?” he asks, deep voice still coated in sleep. 

“Not bad,” you whisper. 

Shivering when he drops his hand to the junction between your shoulder and your neck and gives it a squeeze.

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Conversion "Therapy" Mention / Homophobia

AN: Sorry this one took a while! - longer than I'd like away!. Coming back from a mini vaca and getting back into work and routine is a nightmare, also my delicate sleep schedule is ruineddd. Anywho, we should be back in business now! :) now, DJ play Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan!

Transcript under the cut

Geoffrey: Great job, bud! Tree is looking great!

Malcolm: It’s because I’m a decorator like mommy.

Jonathan: Mom, are you leaving? We’re supposed to decorate the tree too.

Nancy: Save a few ornaments for me to put on there, darling. Mommy has to step out for a couple hours.

Geoffrey: Johnny’s right, you know. Decorating it is apart of the deal.

Nancy: Can’t you spare me an hour or two?

Geoffrey: Remember what I said about being there?

Nancy: That’s not fair. I’ve been doing better, haven’t I? I left work early, which I’m hardly ever able to do and we found the tree together. I haven’t seen Vanessa in 16 years, Geoffrey. This is important to me.

Geoffrey: Yeah, well, this is pretty important to them.

Nancy: Please don’t make me feel guilty about this.

Geoffrey: It’s just you and Vanessa, right?

Nancy: [frowns] Yes, of course. I’ll be back, ok?

-

Vanessa: I’m glad you came.

Nancy: I wouldn’t have miss this for the world.

Vanessa: You look so beautiful tonight.

Nancy: [blushes] So do you. You’ve always have.

Vanessa: [smiles] I wasn’t sure on your choice of champagne, so I hope you don’t mind we have mine. I guess it’s one of the many things we’ll have to learn about each other.

Nancy: This is perfect. I’m sure I’ll love anything you like.

Nancy Narrates: [I found myself unable to eat. Instead, I got my fill of her. I studied her, consumed the sight of her with greedy, curious eyes]

Nancy Narrates: [It thrilled and frightened me the way she took me in too, as if she was trying to recall all those precious details that may have gotten lost in time. Seeing all the ways I could have changed and stayed the same]

Nancy Narrates: [One thing was for certain: my heart still raced the moment our fingers found one another, just like when we were girls. It was a delicate and familiar touch that I could feel from inside, and it was almost as if no time had passed at all]

Vanessa: [softly] Nancy, Nancy, Nancy, the woman you’ve become. I’ve thought of you, over time, what kind of woman you grew up to be.

Nancy: Is it what you expected?

Vanessa: Successful? Powerful? Stunning? Yes, I like to think so.

Nancy: I’ve thought of you too.

Vanessa: Yeah?

Nancy: I thought about what you did, after high school. Who you became. If you fell in love. If you thought about me too. Feels good, knowing you did.

Vanessa: I think holding on to the version of you I remembered kept me sane, after all this time. Do you mind if I smoke? Helps my nerves.

Nancy: As long as I can bum one.

Vanessa: Hey, do you remember our first cigarette together?

Nancy: How could I forget?

Vanessa: Share a light with me. For old times’ sake?

Vanessa: So, care to share all those burning questions you said you had for me?

Nancy: Now I feel like I’m being put on the spot.

Vanessa: Oh, come on. Don’t go shy on me now. How’s this? I’ll ask a question, then you, and so on.

Nancy: Alright. Shoot.

Vanessa: Do you still talk in your sleep?

Nancy: I- what!? I did not talk in my sleep!

Vanessa: Oh, yes you did. Full sentences too. You monologued even.

Nancy: Fuck off, I did NOT talk in my sleep! How would you know anyway? You were practically narcoleptic. I’d be up for hours after you fell asleep.

Vanessa: [murmurs] Still talks in her sleep- in denial about it. Ok. Got it. Your turn.

Nancy: I’ll ask a REAL question this time.

Vanessa: [smirks] That was a real question. I came all this way just to know but ok, ask away.

Nancy: Well, speaking of ‘all this way’. Where do you live?

Vanessa: Here and there. I don’t like to sit in one spot for too long; I get restless. Bored. I’ve spent the last 6 months in Tomorang. Beautiful people. Lovely culture. That’s actually where I heard your name mentioned for the first time. You’ve got quite the reputation over there. You’ve been up to no good, I hear.

Nancy: Christ...long story. Please don’t ask. Are you thinking of moving here?

Vanessa: Ah, ah. It’s my turn. Let’s see...ah! Who’s idea was it to make Geoffrey ‘Mr. Landgraab’. That’s probably the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.

Nancy: My parents, of course. They didn’t want to erase the family name and since they no longer have a son to continue their legacy- well. You get it. Speaking of marriage, are you married?

Vanessa: No, I’m not married.

Nancy: Well. Are you...seeing anyone?

Vanessa: [smirks] No.

Nancy: Children?

Vanessa: No children either. Those counts as a question, by the way.

Nancy: Oops. Ok, ok, you can ask two then. It’s only fair.

Vanessa: I guess I’ll ask a ‘real question’ then. Are you happy like this?

Nancy: [pauses] Like...what?

Vanessa: Married. Married to him. Does it make you happy?

Nancy: [shifts] I care for him very much. He’s the father of my children. He’s a good man and he’s good to me. Why are you asking me this-

Vanessa: Do you still like women?

Nancy: Do you?!

Vanessa: You have to answer my question first-

Nancy: Did you get my voicemail? November 2nd, 1993. I called you and I left you a voicemail. Did you hear it?

Vanessa: Nancy-

Nancy: Why didn’t you call me back? What—what happened to you, Vanessa? Where did you go? Where have you been!? Why, after all this time, am I just now seeing you?

Vanessa: It’s not really the easiest thing to talk about, but I know I owe you closure. [exhales] After I was pulled out of school, my father had me admitted. I received treatments to ‘fix’ me. Every time I fucked up and pissed off my father, he’d pack me up and ship me off until I came back normal and obedient.

Vanessa: There were days I thought I couldn’t keep going on like that, but then I heard your voicemail, and it... scared me. It made me angry. It broke my heart, but most importantly, it woke me up. I finally found the strength to escape my father and live my own truth. It cost me everything—my family disowned me. I relinquished my fortune, but in return, I’m free. I’m free, and I can live the life I deserve. I just... I wish I could have called, but life didn’t work out that way.

Nancy: It should have because I did call you, Vanessa.

Vanessa: I know.

Nancy: [weakly] I said that I loved you..

Vanessa: I know, I know...things were different for me back then.

Nancy: Things are different now! I’m married. I’m a mother!

Vanessa: I know, Nancy. I didn’t come here to break up a happy home.

Nancy: Why did you come here?

Vanessa: Can’t a girl miss her best friend?

Vanessa: Listen. I’ve thought a lot about how I would fit into your life if I ever got to see you again, if this was something you would want at all. That time we shared in our youth was the happiest I’ve ever been. I missed that feeling. I’ve missed you. I’m in a place to explore a friendship with you again, if you want it. If not, then I’ll accept that.

Nancy: I do want this. I want you here. I just...I can’t...

Vanessa: I know. It could be simple. Easy. I miss you, Nancy.

Nancy: [sighs] I miss you too. I’ve missed you so much.

[julymusings]

dark chocolate cherry

i want to bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

or; your boyfriend shows up when you just want some alone time [3.2k]

jason todd x fem!reader; reader gets her period and describes painful symptoms; just fluff; jason "words don't come easy so here's acts of service" todd this is supposed to be earlier in the relationship which is why he's still a little shy but i think she knows he's red hood? idk man. i was just going with it; can you guess what inspired this? (everything is awful) and this is like…not that good

The day started at 2 AM when you woke to shooting pains in your abdomen and blood everywhere. It continued until 2:45 while you cleaned yourself, changed clothes, put on a fresh pad, took some painkillers, and changed the sheets. It paused for about an hour until you woke up again at 4:00, courtesy of Gotham’s patented night-life that had taught you to completely tune out the sound of police sirens. Tonight, however, they weren’t tuning out.

The sirens quieted at 4:10, by which angry tears collected in the corners of your eyes as you flopped around in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong; the pillow was too hard, the blanket was too scratchy, the position hurt your arm.

From 4:11 to 4:12, you screamed into your pillow.

By 4:15 you had settled in front of the TV with a bowl of dry cereal (it took everything in you not to cry over the lack of milk in your fridge), a heating pad, and your favorite comfort show queued up.

At 8 AM you managed to drag yourself to work, where you half-assed the day’s tasks, took a 15-minute break to cry in your car, then dipped out a half-hour early.

Now, at 5 PM on a Friday evening, you’re curled into the fetal position in front of your TV with your comfort show resumed and your trusty heating pad cranked to the highest setting. Prepared to spend the entire night here, you already changed into pajamas and kept a couple blankets within reach. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, and you stretch to reach it, careful not to lose your comfortable position or roll off the couch.

Jason About to leave Be there in 20

You groan out loud. You want to throw your phone across the room, but decide against it because no amount of hormones from hell are worth six hundred dollars. You’re still angry, though, for being so stupid as to forget about the date you had planned for tonight. Scrolling up to earlier messages, you see another text from today wishing you a good morning and telling you he was excited to see you tonight. But, too down to bother checking any messages today, you had missed it.

You I can’t tonight anymore I’m sorry I don’t feel great

After hitting send, you place your phone on the ground, not even having the energy to reach for the coffee table again. Or the energy to lift your arm back up, apparently, given how it hangs limply over the edge of the couch. You feel guilty about cancelling, but you are in no state to go out tonight. You’re used to the symptoms of your period hitting so hard. As much as you and Jason care about each other, you’re not sure you’re ready for him to see you like this. You’ve managed to plan your relationship around your hormone cycle so far, but today it came early.

Your phone’s buzzing is muffled by the rug, and you almost don’t hear it. Jason’s photo is displayed on the screen.

Your hanging hand clicks ‘answer’ and puts it on speaker so you can take the call without moving from how you're curled up.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, I just don’t feel up for going out tonight. I’d rather stay home.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, I just got my period so I’m not really in the mood.”

“Okay, we can stay in tonight. What do you feel like eating? I can pick something up.”

“No, Jason…I want to stay home alone tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay…did I do something?” His voice comes out a little smaller.

“No, you’re fine, I promise. I just don’t feel like seeing anyone right now.”

“…Not even me?”

Your hand presses against your temples to soothe the building tension headache. The self-doubt in his tone brings the anguish of the entire day bubbling up your throat. You feel like the worst person in the world. Exactly how you don’t want him to see you.

“Jason…it’s not you. I just…I feel like shit right now, honestly. Everything hurts, I’m miserable and sad and angry at everything, I’m breaking out all over.” You feel yourself welling up at all these little stresses coming out. “I’m craving everything but feel too sick to eat anything…I feel pretty disgusting right now, and frankly, I don’t want you to see me like this.” You finish your rant with a sniffle. You wipe your nose, trying to hold back the sob that’s threatening to break through. But at his silence, your worst, most improbable fears claw their way to the surface: he hates you now. You scared him away. You exhale heavily into your sleeve as more tears spill.

The phone is quiet for a long moment.  Then; “I could never find you disgusting,” he says, gently. “But if that’s what you want, then we’ll reschedule.”

“Thank you. And sorry.”

He speaks with a tone you can’t quite parse. “Don’t apologize. Just feel better.”

-

-

-

It’s one hour after your phone call, and at the first knock, you know who it is. Who else could it be? With that soft, somewhat hesitant, one-knuckle rap on the door. Only one person knocks on your door like that.

“Jason, I told you not to come here,” you say a little more cutting than you intend to, but your back and shoulders feel like they’re about to snap under a phantom pressure and the frustration of your request being outright ignored leaves a burning bitterness that channels itself into a violent wrenching open of the door.

He jumps a little at the abruptness of your greeting. One look at your face and he visibly deflates.

“I’m sorry…I know you said not to come, but…” his gaze casts downward to his hands. You follow; he’s clutching a reusable grocery bag. Peeking out of the top is a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. The ice cream carton’s condensation seeped through a small patch of the cloth bag and dripped onto the other items; a bushel of greens, among some other fruits and vegetables, as well as a parcel of brown paper that was fastened closed with a twine string. You return your gaze to his face.

“I think—” he cuts himself off, free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Then he drops his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. You told me not to come here and I ignored you, but I thought…” he trails off, probably hoping you’ll say something so he can gauge your reaction.

You just stare at him.

He shifts his weight back and forth. His hand twitches.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll—”

Then, you burst into tears.

Jason’s eyes widen. He reaches out to touch you, then stops himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, this was stupid. Please stop crying, I’m so sorry—” He’s panicked, trying to calm you down with apologies and soothing assurances that he will leave immediately and never go against your wishes again. All the while you stand in the doorway, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee, new tears forming faster than you can wipe the old ones away.

He once again raises a hand towards you, before it stutters, then clenches into a fist as if it takes all his strength to fight against the instinct to be close to you, fighting against the string that tethers him to you. He drags his hand down his face, then it falls back to his side.

“Okay, I—I’m leaving now. I’m leaving. Do you…want this?” He holds the bag out to you.

With it now in front of you, its further contents are visible. You manage to tamp down your tears enough to get a few words out.

“Did you—hic—buy me groceries?”

“Yeah…” There’s a wince in his tone, as if he’s only now realizing that his gesture is not translating as he intended.

You look back up at him with pursed lips and knitted brows, sniffling. Sure, the ice cream you can understand, but…you have no idea what to make of the rest.

The bag drops back to his side. “I figured…it’s just— it’s the stuff that you’re supposed to—” He strokes his palm over his mouth, eyes screwing shut for a moment. He huffs at himself, then continues. “I mean I’m sure you already know all of this, so maybe you already have all these things, and now I’m realizing how unnecessary all this was, and I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Jason,” you say. Your upset has since been overshadowed by something else, though you can’t tell what it is. And your crying has stopped, but its lingering effects have you feeling congested and a little foggy. You’re half expecting this to be a fever dream that you’re moments away from waking up from in a cold sweat.

“—because obviously you know what helps you feel better much more than I do—”

“Jason.”

“And you— yeah?” His eyes are a little harried when they find yours again. But off your tired and still-confused look, he gets the message and collects himself.

“Right, yeah, I just thought that…maybe I could bring you some of the stuff with all those minerals that are supposed to help women when they’re…menstruating.” He briefly breaks eye contact at the end of his sentence, red rouge creeping up his neck.

You can’t help it; you start to giggle. You can’t remember the last time you heard a man use the term ‘menstruating’ in a non-medical context. And the fact that he’s so shy about it— upset as you may be (though not at him), there’s no denying how adorable your boyfriend is. His head shoots back to you as your laughter intensifies. He blushes harder.

“It’s not that funny,” he mutters.

You step away from the door, finally closing the space between you, and wrap your arms around his torso. Your head nestles into his chest. He gently drops the grocery bag on the ground and reciprocates your hug. He rests his chin on your head, which fits perfectly under his. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. You breathe him in.

“Sorry I’m such a mess,” you murmur into his shirt.

He breathes into your hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. And you’re not a mess.”

You look up, chin resting in the space between his collarbones. He looks down at you with a small smile, but some wariness is still etched into his features. Fear of unwittingly upsetting you again. He brings up a hand to push some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. His hand remains there, toying with the hair that falls below your shoulder.

"Thank you for the food,” you whisper. The moment feels too intimate to speak any other way.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I just…” He imitates your quietness, like his admission is also too vulnerable to say loudly. “I really wanted to see you. And I hated the idea of you feeling bad about yourself, or being in pain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Your eyes feel wet again. The first instinct is to hide your face, maybe press it to his chest once more. But, for some reason, you don’t. You want him to see you like this, messy and emotional and upset. You want him to see every part of you, and you want to see every part of him, the good and the bad.

“You didn’t.” A tear slips past the effort to keep it at bay. He shows no reaction to it, eyes never leaving yours, other than a quick swiping away with his thumb. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. That’s why I was crying. Not because you showed up.”

“That doesn’t seem right. This is nothing. You deserve even more.”

With no words to fully, adequately communicate the blooming in your chest, you stand on your toes, reaching up to him for a kiss. But given his stature, your lips only reach his chin and brush over its underside.

At your quiet whine, he chuckles and leans down to meet you in the middle. The kiss is soft; filled with the innocence of fresh blossoms in the spring, and the sweetness of its borne fruit.

You pull away when a vicious cramp roots you back to the present. Your limps tighten around Jason with a groan.

“I need to go back inside. I’ve been away from my heating pad for too long.”

His shoulders sag when you step away from him. “Oh, um…do you still…want me to leave?”

With a simple exhale of humorous disbelief, you grasp his hand in yours and tug him to your front door. He’s like an excited puppy, eyes brightened and perking up as he grabs the grocery bag and happily trails after you.

He goes straight to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the counter for you to settle into, then sets the bag on the counter. The ice cream carton has dampened most of the cloth by now, and likely the rest of its contents, but rather than attending to the groceries, his first action is retrieving your heating pad from where it rests on the couch. He unplugs it from the wall outlet and brings it to you. You curl up on the chair with it pressed flat against your lower stomach. It only takes a minute for the pressure in your hips to abate.

Then he moves to the groceries. The ice cream immediately goes in the freezer, and he unloads what’s remaining onto the counter, one by one, and you take note of each item. There’s spinach, carrots, apples, oranges, dark chocolate, some kind of meat wrapped in brown paper, and, strangely enough, an entire block of cheese.

You give him a quizzical look, picking it up to read the label. “You got me…cheddar cheese?”

He retrieves a cutting board and knife from its spot next to the sink, then takes the cheese from you. “Good for certain symptoms.” He slices open the plastic wrapping and cuts out some cubes with skilled efficiency. He does the same with an apple. “They all are,” he says, referring to his entire haul. He completes the makeshift charcuterie board with a couple squares of dark chocolate and slides it across the counter.

You look down at the cutting board, thinking about everything he’s done for you; everything you never even had to ask for. The words sit on your tongue, encaged by your clenched teeth; an admission that coils itself around your spine and squeezes tight, restricts your breathing and pumps your heart at thrice its speed. But you feel yourself welling up again, and the first bout of tears already exhausted you so much that all you can manage is, “I don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t have the energy to make anything good.”

But he just smiles and says, “That’s what I’m here for, honey. Can I make you something?”

You nod. He gets to work. The immediacy of his actions, how he takes no time to decide on a dish or find a recipe, makes you think his previously stated intentions of ‘just dropping this off’ were less genuine than he lead you to believe. Nevertheless, you munch on the snacks he laid out for you and watch him work. The cheese and apples are a surprisingly cohesive combination, the meshing of sweet crispiness and savory creaminess eliciting a contented sigh from you. You try to ignore the way Jason smirks in the corner of your periphery. The chocolate is incredible, yet unfamiliar. You read the label on the packaging: 80% Dark Chocolate with Cherry and Almond Filling. Even if you hadn’t tasted it yet, the quality of the packaging itself would have been enough to let you know that this chocolate is extremely high-quality. Like, special-order-from-Europe quality. Not stop-at-the-grocery-store-on-the-way-home quality.

“Where is this from? Did you buy this today?” You ask him through a mouthful of the rich, melting chocolate.

He doesn’t look up from the carrots he’s dicing. “Uh…no.”

Anyone else would attribute his avoidance of eye-contact to standard kitchen-knife caution. You are not anyone else. You could blindfold him, spin him around ten times, put a sharp knife in his hand, and he could still pull off a perfect julienne. You look closer. His cheeks are dusted with pink.

You let out a laugh. “Jason, you’re not embarrassed about liking fancy chocolate, are you?”

“No! Not at all,” he says, ceasing his chopping. He looks up, but not quite at you.

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what?” He asks.

“Then why are you being so shifty right now?” You try to catch his gaze.

“I’m not!” He defends. “It’s just chocolate! Do you like it? I’ll bring you more.” He’s stealthy with the way he avoids your eyes; you almost can’t notice how hard he’s trying not to make eye contact.

“Jason!” You reach across the counter, having to rise off the chair slightly, and take his face in your hands, making him look at you. When he does, he wears a sheepish smile.

“It’s…” His removes your hands from his face, holding them in his. He mumbles something, turning his head to the side. But you catch the tail end of it, a goading grin already creeping up your face.

“What was that?” You tilt your ear towards him, exaggerating the action.

“It’s Bruce’s.” He, in turn, exaggerates the enunciation, rolling his eyes at your simpering. “I…found it. In his pantry one day. And I liked it, so I took it. And then I…kept taking it. Every time I visited.”

You pout teasingly. “And you’re ashamed to admit that you think he has good taste in something?”

He doesn’t say anything, only hiding his face in his shoulder. You pull on your intertwined hands and he gets the message, skirting around the kitchen counter to come closer.

“You are so adorable, you know that?” You say. You reach up and pinch his cheeks. He swats your hands away, but there’s no mistaking his broad, childish grin for anything but affection.

He breaks off another square from the chocolate bar and holds it to your lips. You bite off a small portion, then push it back to him. He takes the remaining piece in his mouth and his eyes close for a brief moment as he savors the sweet, tart, and nutty flavors. You simply watch, entranced by him. Then, he kisses you. You lean into it, hands sliding up his shirt to grip the fabric and bring him even closer. His hold finds your waist.

He tastes like cherries and dark chocolate.

He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on yours, and you want to tell him that. That, and so much more. But from the look on his face, the way his eyes find yours and the tips of his ears have a similar heat to the one in your chest, you can tell he already knows.

when it comes to jason's post-pit-repressed-teenager characterization (aka despite being older he's still as inexperienced and confused and insecure about the world outside of vigilantism and w/ women as a 15 y/o would be) (aka my favorite characterization tee hee), i think that he's mature about periods, knows they're normal and not gross or shameful etc, but still gets shy about saying the actual word, for no other reason than the 'shy around women' part always makes me giggle

also bruce is keeping the chocolate stocked specifically because he knows jason likes it and will keep taking it because he loves his son even if his son doesn't love him (he does he's just in his angsty teen 'i hate this family you don't understand me' phase rn)

divider is from here

quote at the beginning is pablo neruda <3

[cherryrikis]

LAST LOVERS ON THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN - 003 ! lipstick marks and coffee stains

PAIRING : producer riki x baker fem reader

SYNOPSIS: if it weren't for the two being on that last midnight train together, you would've never met. but when one person is wearing a white shirt while the other is holding a coffee cup without a lid, an accident is bound to happen. another 142 accidents later, and maybe riki would consider being your last love.

authors note - i keep inserting baseball into my works sorry

previous | masterlist | next

“just leave your shoes at the door.” you instructed riki, before allowing him to enter your apartment.

“cool, cool.” he replied with a nod.

you watched as he examined your home, glancing over every last picture frame and decorative throw pillow.

“it’s nice.” riki assured, as if he knew what you’re thinking. “very cozy. small, but cozy nonetheless. this definitely feels like a home.”

“do you.. do you not have a home?” you asked him hesitantly as he took a seat on the couch. “it sounds silly, i know. but the way you said it just had me thinking.”

riki smiled, letting out a soft laugh as he watched you struggle to find an excuse. “sorry, i know i kinda made it seem that way. its not that i don’t have a home, im just never home. most of the time i end up crashing at a friends place, or falling asleep in the studio.”

“this could be your home. i know it’s probably a little far, and even though we just met, you’re welcome anytime.” you comforted him with a small pat on the back. “now let me get that stain out.”

riki was sat on your bed, facing you with his legs crossed as you scrubbed at the stain.

“why are you scrubbing it before you wash it?” he asked curiously.

“pre-treating it. sometimes the washer doesn’t do a good enough job because it can set the stain in more.” you answered, briefly looking up.

you didn’t see it, but you felt and heard his presence slightly drift as riki got up to walk around your room.

he scanned the walls, and noticed a white shirt hanging by the bed. on one side, it had now faint lipstick marks in a small heart.

“what’s this?” riki questioned, pointing to it.

“oh that? it’s, uh.. old valentines gift for an ex. i was never able to give it to him, but it was too cute for me to throw away. so now its mine.” you explained with a shrug. not much too it.

“y/n?” “yeah?”

“can i spend the night? just ‘cause, you know. it’s late, and i’m sure we’re both tired. for the sake of convenience.”

you stared at him with your lips slightly apart, before they curled into a grin.

“what? what’s so funny?” riki pouted.

“of course you can spend the night you dummy. you probably won’t be getting this sweater back until tomorrow by the earliest anyway.” you rolled your eyes.

“i wouldn’t mind if you kept it.” he joked, before walking back to his original seat in front of you. riki watched as you continued scrubbing at the deep brown stain, until it eventually faded to a lighter shade.

“throw this into the washer for me, and you can sleep in my bed. i’ll take the couch.” you pointed your head in the direction of the laundry appliances.

“wait-” he paused. “why would you take the couch? it’s your house. you take the bed.”

“you’re my guest. unless you wanna share the bed?” you raised a brow teasingly, but he knew you were kidding.

“oh shut up, you’re just dying to make me look bad. how ‘bout i just sleep on the floor next to you?” riki pointed to the floor beneath you two.

“okay. but don’t complain if your back is hurting by the morning.” you joked as riki let out an annoyed sigh.

taglist ! @pshbites @r1kification @tasnemluvs @stvrriki @sirens-dreams @heartheejake @t0asterexe @ilovbeshotaro @prettiestgirlontheplanet @yourmyst4r @jiiyen @vixialuvs @ariluvssssss100 @mmurazz @sol3chu @who-tf-soddhi @domfikeluva @blvengene @tinyteezer @anqelkoz @theothernads @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @lanaonlydaughter

[hxney-lemcn]

How Was Your Day? — Cater Diamond x gn! reader

summery: you help Cater open up to you a bit more.

tw: hurt/comfort.

wc: 1.1k

Master List

It was so silly. You felt like you were living the most cliche scenario in the world. You had a crush on your best friend. Could you really be blamed? Not only was Cater drop dead gorgeous, but he always made you feel included and seen. There was just one thing that itched at you. You wished he would open up to you a bit more. No matter what, there felt like a barrier between you both, something that kept you from getting any closer to seeing the full painting that was Cater Diamond. You could only really see the surface, the pretty colors and beautiful framing, hiding the gritty reality that laid beneath.

You wanted to dig deeper, to truly dissect the meaning behind Cater. He was your friend, and you felt foolish that you fell for the glitz and the glamor instead of his true self. Or that’s how you felt at least. You had managed to catch glimpses of his softer moments, moments where you were feeling down. Where he’d dim down his outgoing personality and try to make you laugh with either memes he found or acting silly. And if that didn’t work? He’d listen to your complaints, only giving advice if you ask.

It was only a glimpse, though, as those moments seemed far and few in between. Putting on his cheery smile and flash of the camera. Maybe you were being selfish, but it almost hurt, knowing that Cater didn’t seem to trust you enough to show you all of himself when he’s seen you at your worst. That he can see you cry and complain, but thinks you’d mind if he did the same. You only wanted to be there for him like he was for you, to show him that he wasn’t a problem, even if he wasn’t super bubbly or outgoing. 

It seemed like you were going to get what you wished sooner than you expected. 

You hadn’t meant to stumble upon him in such a vulnerable moment. You just wanted to spend some time with your bestie/crush, knocking on his door before entering. You paused midstep, noticing a lump under the blankets on Cater’s bed, ginger hair barely peeking out. 

“Cater?” You called out cautiously, clicking the door closed behind you. He only shuffled further into his cocoon, not acknowledging your presence. Gosh, as much as you wanted him to open up, you were unsure of how to proceed, but one thing was for sure. You were not just going to let him stew alone. 

So as gracefully as you could (quite awkwardly in all honesty), you took a seat next to where he laid, hand hesitantly reaching out to pat his form. No words were said as you stroked Cater’s back, trying to think of what to say or ask.

”Do you want to talk about it?” You settled on asking.

”I’m sorry,” Cater mumbled, you could barely hear it through the thick fabric that covered him. 

“What are you sorry for?” You asked softly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

It was silent for a few seconds before Cater mumbled brokenly, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

You felt your heart break, a heavy pit filling your stomach. Cater shouldn’t hold his feelings in like this, especially when he has people willing to lend a shoulder…like you. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” You replied without hesitation. “I care about you, Cater. If you’re ever feeling down you can always come to me, I’ll always be here for you.”

Cater was hesitant to peek his head out of the safety of his blankets, but the sweetness of your words had his chest aching, a bittersweet feeling spreading through him. On one hand, you were saying things he had longed to hear for so long, but on the other it felt completely wrong for you to see him as anything else but happy and cheerful. 

His emerald eyes peaked at you, the lower half of his face still covered, red locks of hair falling in his face, “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You are not a burden,” You scolded gently. “Am I a burden when I’m not feeling good?”

”Of course not,” Cater frowned from beneath the blanket. 

“So what makes you the exception?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cater opened his mouth, reflexively ready to insult himself…but he couldn’t actually think of a proper rebuttal. You had actually managed to stump him. He looked so disheartened and hopeful at the same time.

“Even if I don’t actually like all the things I say I do? Even though I lie to you all about who I am?” 

“Even then,” You agreed, scrounging any confidence you had left in you, you raised a shaky hand to run it through his hair. It seemed like that was the right thing to do as Cater’s eyes shut in a look of bliss, unconsciously leaning his head into your hand. 

“Y’know you don’t have to lie about all that stuff, right?” You asked softly, scratching his scalp gently. “Who cares if you like spicy over sweet, it won’t change how much I love you.”

“Thank you,” Cater murmured with a content sigh, nuzzling his head into your thigh, soaking in your affection. 

“Of course,” You murmured back, admiring the way his hair framed his face so prettily…only to be surprised when his perfectly manicured hand reached out from beneath the blankets and wrapped around your torso, dragging you to lay down beside him. You felt your face flush from being so close, his faint freckles more visible from this distance. 

“I…” Cater spoke out, tongue thick with emotion. Those three words you said so easily felt like a ton of bricks that he just couldn’t cough up, but he wanted to oh so desperately at that moment. You watched on in concern as Cater’s face contorted into what looked semi-painful, like he was struggling with a thought.

”I love you too,” Cater managed to push out, eyeing you with anxiety and vulnerability. Your eyes widened, before it clicked that you had said those words mere minutes ago, you hadn’t even realized those words slipped past your lips, but you had meant them wholeheartedly. 

You relaxed in his hold, resting your head on his shoulder, “Hmmm, well too bad I love you more.” 

Cater let out a short giggle, nuzzling into your hair, the both of you drowning in butterflies. It was a rainy moment turned sunny, the two of you basking in the glow of the other's love. Sure, the problem wasn’t solved and Cater would still have to work on opening up to you, but it was a start, and you’d be by his side supporting him through all his ups and downs.

[sinnabarmoth]

Trusting You

Pairing: Rafayel x fem|Reader

Summary: Reader is bisexual but hasn't come out to anyone before. She decides that she's going to tell her boyfriend Rafayel first.

Content warnings: None

Length: 1k

~~~

You felt like throwing up. Which probably wasn’t a good sign. Then again, you had felt nauseous the other times you tried to do this. This would make your third attempt at coming out to your boyfriend.

You knew from an early age that you liked boys and a little later on you started to figure out girls were pretty too. Was your first crush on that mermaid princess in your one storybook? Yes. Was there a girl in your primary school that you had developed a crush on and didn’t know how to deal with it so you avoided her at all costs instead? Yes. Have you told anyone that you are bisexual? No.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of who you were or anything, and you really had nothing to fear living in Linkon and being queer. But the fact remained that you were scared that coming out would change things between you and the people you cared about. You didn’t want things to change. Life was going pretty well. You were doing well at work, you had great friends, and your boyfriend Rafayel was the literal sweetest.

But as time stretched on you felt the weight of your hidden sexuality bearing down on you. So, you had decided that you had enough of living in the closet. You were going to come out and be proud of who you were and to hell with anyone that treated you differently because of it. Out of everyone you thought of telling you decided that you wanted to tell Rafayel first.

It wasn’t because you had found some hot new girlfriend to run off with but you trusted him. Rafayel had never shied away from being supportive of the queer community and had even done a charity auction of some of his exclusive pieces to raise money for trans youth. So you knew you had nothing to fear, but getting the actual words out was proving harder than expected.

You had tried once while over dinner and chickened out. You tried again at the charity auction but again couldn’t say it. Now you were at home with Rafayel, the two of you watching a movie. You weren’t sure why you decided this was when you wanted to try telling him again. Maybe because it was so normal. There was no pressure in this instant.

You kept glancing at him, unable to focus on the screen. It’s was just three little words. “I am bisexual.” That’s all you had to say and it would finally be out there and you wouldn’t have to carry around this secret anymore. At least not around Raf.

Your head was on his shoulder, a blanket draped across your laps. His arm around you was tracing soothing circles across your skin. You focused on the motion, taking even slow breaths to calm yourself.

In and out. In…and out… You could do this. Three little words.

“Raf,” you forced the words out, “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything.” he turned his attention away from the tv. “What is it?”

“I just…I um…” and there your tongue went to lead again.

His brow furrowed as he saw the sentence stuck in your throat. He quickly paused the movie and pulled you closer. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, I just…” you took a deep breath and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m bisexual.”

There was silence. Followed by a soft. “Oh.”

“And I’m not saying this for any particular reason! I promise.” your hands fisted the blanket, your eyes still shut tight. “I really do love you and only you but I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time now but every time I tried I kept getting nervous and not doing it. And I don’t want this to change anything with us. Really I don’t. And if you need a minute to think about this--”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Rafayel put a finger to your lips, “Calm down. You’re gonna run out of air talking that fast.”

You peeked your eyes open. “Sorry.”

“No. You don’t need to apologize. I have no problem with you being bisexual, I’m happy that you told me.” he said giving you a reassuring smile. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that you couldn’t come out to me sooner.”

“It isn’t you. I know you wouldn’t have cared it’s just…” you took another breath and gathered your thoughts, “I haven’t told anyone about it. Ever. Not any of my friends or family. I’ve known for years but I always felt weird when I thought of bringing it up.”

“Cause you didn’t want things to change.” He said.

You nodded. “But I’ve been in the closet for so long and I was getting sick of it. And I knew I could trust you to not freak out about it.”

“I get it. I’m proud of you though. And I love you, exactly as you are.” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And whether you want to tell others in the future or if this is just between us right now that is fine. We’re gonna go at your pace, but I know everyone else will still love and cherish you no matter who you are capable of falling in love with.”

You melted against him, endorphins rushing through your blood and filling your mind with warmth as you finally truly relaxed for the first time in years. That weight that had been dragging you down for years finally being lifted to let you have this moment of acceptance and peace.

“Thanks.” you whispered. “I really needed to hear that.”

There was a moment of silence as you let yourself calm back down. Then Rafayel chuckled. You looked up at him. “What?”

“I can’t lie, my first reaction when you came out was, ‘Hi bisexual. I’m Rafayel.’” he said with a teasing smile.

You grabbed the pillow and whacked him with a laugh and roll of your eyes. “You are so lucky I love you, you dork.”

[dreamyinception-world]

𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

Pairing: Camboy!Park Seonghwa + Puppy Boy!Kim Hongjoong

w//c: 6k

Genre: College!Au, Smut + Friends with Benefits

Summary: Being a camboy is a lot of hard work– keeping everything private from becoming public, entertaining his audience and training a needy puppy, who has a lot more up his sleeve than meets the eye. 

Tws: Swearing/Foul Language, Slightly Judgmental Friends

Sws: Puppy Play, Cyber Sex, Fingering, Blowjobs, Sex Toys (bone ball gag and cock ring), Degrading (consensual; both receiving), Dirty Talking, Humiliation, Deep Throating/Throat Fucking, Dacryphilia, Cum Swapping/Eating, Biting, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Switching (both because why the hell not), Light Subspace Slipping, Hair pairing, Dick Slapping, Exhibitionism

Rating: 18+ 

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: hello everyone! long time no see! sorry that’s been so long since my last one shot! i’ve been super busy with work and haven’t had the time to write anything. BUT, since the release of ateez’s concept photo teasers with pink haired hwa, i knew i had to make a fic out of it. we all knew it was going to happen. anyways, y'all didn’t come here for me to ramble. enjoy the fic! if any tags were left out, please let me know!

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕠𝕞. 𝕄𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕕!

As a reminder, my work is only for those who are eighteen years or older. Anyone who attempts to interact with my work or blog who is underage will be blocked immediately. You have been warned. 

©𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 2024 || 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ♡

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

There are parts of oneself that people don’t mind keeping out and open to the general public– friendships, achievements, milestones– the pleasant things that would make one appear to be like an average person. There was nothing wrong with being average, even boring if that’s what life had in store.

Or what you want everyone to think life has in store for you. 

Like a beautifully thin veiled piece of colored glass, people can see whatever part they want to– never truly getting a glimpse of the other side. Most become too distracted by the rainbows and glamor of it to investigate anything further. 

And that is exactly how Seonghwa liked to have things. 

It wasn’t personal really– is what he would say if he was held at gunpoint–  to keep things from his friends, even the ones that were considered family to them. But, at some point when certain activities became available for his leisure, a level of ambiguity was needed.

Most especially with certain friends. 

Take his damn near blood sister Julie– typical yapper friend who talks about everything and everyone that she hears about, because “anything can be talked about, nothing is off limits unless explicitly said so!” She was both the funniest but also the most dramatic friend that he had.

And even that was almost an understatement. 

“Seonghwa~~” She rolled up next to him while he was completing an assignment outside, parking her chin onto his shoulder, sporting the largest pout ever. Her voice came out in an almost unbearable whine close to that of a child, matching with her rapid tugs on his arm. 

“What~? I’m doing something.” He chuckled and fake brushed her off, laughing a bit harder when she gripped his arm tighter. 

“I’m so drained from last class’ exam. Can we please go out tonight? I need to let off some steam so badly.” 

“You know I can’t go out tonight.” 

Julie whines and wiggles more next to him, stirring him away from his work. Seonghwa kept a patient and slightly sympathetic face, after being trained for years to handle his friend’s antics, and held her hands between his as he calmly explained his plans that he has every week– going to see his family that lives about an hour from the university they all go to. 

A bubbling “argument” began to creep into their conversation until their other mutual friend– who was on the complete opposite scale of Julie’s personality entirely– Giselle and her partner welcomed themselves to the otherside of the picnic bench. 

“What are you guys bickering about now?” She questioned with the roll of her eyes, clearly messing with Julie. 

The exact reaction made the girl slam her hands down on the table, getting as close as she could with the bulk of the table being caught in between them, as she feigned glassy eyes. 

“Seonghwa won’t skip this one trip to see family to come out with me because I had a hard day. He’s a bad friend and I don’t wanna be close to him anymore.” Her body bounces back onto the wooden seat with arms crossed, side-eying the shit out of the male in question as he lets out a small snort. 

They both knew that she wouldn’t truly cut him off, even if she could, being that they are too close to ever become legitimately separated. But, Seonghwa decided to not push her further, bringing himself back to his work as his three friends talked. He became so engrossed in the last bit of his assignment that he was completing that he nearly missed the conversation of cam work that flowed between the group. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Julie held her hands up, almost feeling dizzy by the information. “You’re saying that someone at our school is doing livestreamed sex work?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Giselle’s partner piped in, resting their chin on the shoulder that was offered to them. “But, it’s definitely a rumor that’s been going around for the past couple days or so?” 

The aspect of the rumor didn’t really matter to anyone, as gossip made its way around campus on a consistent basis. However, today it was just enough for his extremely bored and gossip loving friend to send her off the rails with questions about it. 

Is the person a boy? A girl? Do they look like anybody that they would know or have seen?

They weren’t able to respond back that quickly, as the budding of the hearsay had only begun to spread around. Without having much information to back it on, they were left mostly to their imagination, only knowing that they seemed to be pretty popular amongst the ones who frequented their streams. 

“Do you have a photo?” Her eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when they fished their phone out. Within a few seconds of scrolling, they presented the one image they had. 

Seonghwa kept his fingers moving and body still, glancing out of the corner of his eyes. 

The image was blurry, clearly taken from someone’s computer screen, with broken lines cutting across the frame. All that could be seen were a pair of lips, laced up in a smirk, with something that looked like a feather being situated in the middle of their partially exposed torso– appearing to be more of a motion rather than an actual pose. 

“What the hell! This is such a shit picture.” Julie grabbed the phone, seemingly trying to render the picture quality with her eyes. She was ceremoniously interrupted by Giselle’s rough snatch of her partner’s phone, casting a glare in her direction.

“Well it’s not like we took it. If you wanna go and see the person clearer, go fucking watch their stream yourself.” Giselle grunted.

“No way, I have a roommate and I don’t want them seeing me watch that.” Julie made a small face of disgust, unknowingly making Seonghwa feel a tinge of hurt before she relaxed herself against his shoulder. 

“Besides, I'll get too jealous.” 

Giselle’s partner brought his attention over to Seonghwa, noticing his lack of response during the entire conversation. 

“What do you think, Hwa?” 

The boy hummed in response, looking up from his laptop to all eyes being placed on him. He couldn’t help the small smile that was forming inside of him at the curiosity of his friends. It felt all familiar to the lengths of desperation of the ones who came to join him during his nightly sessions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thursday, May 14th – 23:45 PM 

Time streaming: 1:25:57 

“Wow, wow would you look at the time? I suppose I should start getting ready for my needy puppies shouldn’t I?” 

The corners of his pink glossed lips curved up into a smirk, leaning over and taking a small drag of something off screen. He leans back into his chair, purposefully allowing his legs to fall open as he slowly blows it out towards the camera, timing his hand running from his neck to his chest all the way down to his semi hard bulge through his sparkly black fleshed bottoms. He takes the time to tug at the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin, flashing his teeth at the speed of the comments. 

Seonghwa lets out a short hum, lulling his finger over some of the comments before it stops on one in particular, having donated a large sum of money in the form of cat ears to him. 

msoong_998: you’re such a tease. just take your clothes off for us already. 

Though the viewers couldn’t see his eyes, thanks to the angle of the camera, they narrowed instinctively. 

This person had the audacity to rush him into his work while paying him so much money? They came here for him and want things to be quick? 

How pathetic and desperate.

What a perfect little puppy for him. 

He had every intention to make him his special target for tonight. 

“Hm, this person, msoong? Right?” He spoke lazily, the bottom of his tongue swiping out. 

“You’re demanding me to get ready fast for you? So you can jerk yourself off and be done with me? You’re so needy and desperate it’s borderline pathetic. ” He hides a small chuckle behind his hand, moving his legs over the arms of the chair. The comments flood in, some criticizing the commenter and the other ogling over his body becoming more and more loose and exposed to the camera.

Seonghwa dismisses them all with a light wave of his hand, satisfied with what he has seen, in desire for something better. 

“Now, don’t be mean to him. He doesn’t know any better. He can’t help being so weak. Clearly some of us are so used to being with people who will put out quick. All we need is a little..obedience would you say?” 

It takes only but a few minutes for him to prepare himself, and in tow his audience, setting a small collar on a hook just below the camera with the end of the leash within his grasp. He excuses himself with slow strides, only disappearing for a moment before he returns with something that he deems to be more “comfortable” for him to train his little puppies in. 

Dawning a black crop top, two sparkly belly chains and fuzzy toothless knee highs, he rests himself comfortably back in his earlier position, taking the end of the loop between his fingers. 

“All puppies need a little bit of training. How lucky you all are that I’m the best teacher.”

The ding of donations flooding in brings a wide smile to Seonghwa’s face, leaning into the camera to show off the sheen of his raspberry scented skin, glistening under the glow of his assorted warm toned lights. He made an effort to adjust the edge of his high socks, humming at the snap of it against his skin.

“Oh! I almost forgot~” He spoke in a sing song tone, moving his rolling chair back to make room as he stood. 

For the first time ever, he brought his whole face into view with only a black lace masquerade mask obscuring the upper portion. His blue lensed eyes glimmered against the screen, almost standing out against his bubblegum pink hair.

“Am I pretty?” He questioned cutely, cocking his head to the side with a heated look in his eyes. 

puppup_yu: fuck, i would love to see those pretty eyes looking up at me from between my legs.

Seonghwa bit the corner of his lip from the comment, feeling himself getting more excited by the filth being thrown his way that he almost forgot about the task at hand. He playfully rolled his eyes, clapping his hands together to bring everyone’s attention back.

“Now, to train you all very well, I brought in an adorable little puppy to use as a reference. Please send lots of paws and love to him, okay?”

Straightening himself, he lifted his hands to wave at someone off screen. A sound of jingles could be heard as a smaller man crawled into view on all fours, clearly trembling as he kept his eyes trained on Seonghwa.

He wore nothing except for a pair of hazelnut floppy ears, a bone gag strapped securely in his mouth and the jingling dog collar— reading “Joongie” when reflected against the light. 

Once in front of the taller man, he sat in wait, panting and clearly covered in a thinly veiled sheen of sweat, leaving it very clear to the viewers that he had been aroused in some manner prior to introducing himself to Seonghwa’s audience.

That, and the blue ring secured around his flushed cock.

“This is my puppy, Hongjoongie. Isn’t he adorable?” 

It wasn’t a question really, at least Hongjoong was sure of it.

But his mind didn’t let him ponder on it for too long when those same pair of blue eyes came down into his view, smiling like a cat who was ready to devour him.

It took everything in his power to not whimper at the finger that hooked around the loop of his collar to pull him closer, and the following tongue that ran over the bone and his lips. He dug his nails into his palm to hold himself still as Seonghwa repeated the action two more times before kissing over it and on his forehead.

“My helpless little fuck toy.” Seonghwa breathed into his face, the mix of fruit and sweets hitting Hongjoong’s senses, instinctively making him let out a small groan.

Something about the reaction pleased Seonghwa, being kind enough to reach behind his head and release the bone from his mouth. The brunette immediately panted, tongue slightly lulled out of his mouth.

“Do you know why I have to put this bone in his mouth?” Seonghwa asked the audience, waving it to and fro in his hand.

“It’s so that he will obey orders and know not to speak out of line.” He said cheerfully, placing the gag off to the side. Once in view again, his demeanor changed, staring straight into the camera with burning eyes.

“Rule number one, always obey your owner. Right msoong?”

He plopped back down into his chair, now facing Hongjoong, and leaned back comfortably, rolling his head over and chuckling lightly.

“Let’s begin, yes?”

He turned his attention back to Hongjoong. “Up.” 

Without hesitation, the puppy boy’s upper body rose, not letting his knees up from the ground as he moved closer to the chair and immediately stripped Seonghwa’s lower half, being careful not to move the socks he had on, seeing the intense stare on his every move.

Hongjoong wondered in the back of his head how long Seonghwa had been going, given how hard he was once the cold air hit him and the amount of precum glistening his tip and along the inside of his bottoms.

He really held himself back.

Satisfied, he leaned back onto his heels and waited for further instructions.

“See how I didn’t have to tell him anything? He already knew what to do.” Seonghwa bit his finger, spreading his legs wider and motioning with a nod of his head for Hongjoong to continue.

The brunette felt his heart pounding in his chest as he ran his pierced tongue over Seonghwa’s balls, the combination of being watched by him and all of the viewers in the livestream filling him with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, egging him on to do more to please the gorgeous man in front of him. 

Against what he was originally trained and told to do, Hongjoong slapped Seonghwa’s cock lewdly against his tongue, holding his mouth wide open for everyone to watch the member slide back and forth against his tongue. A sharp curl of his tongue to the underside of the taller man’s cock sent a shiver up his spine, letting out a shaky breath. 

“Is that how you want to play, puppy?” Seonghwa tried to keep his voice leveled, fisting one hand into Hongjoong’s hair, giving it a pull hard enough to make him let out a small gasp in surprise. His smirk widened as he adjusted himself, swinging one leg behind the back of Hongjoong’s head to hold him in place. 

Without saying a word, he moved Hongjoong’s head up and down, changing between fucking his face roughly and slowly filling every inch of his mouth, smiling deviously when the little puppy boy’s body began to tremble, drool pouring out of the corners of his mouth. 

The chat flooded with a slew of curses and praises towards Seonghwa and Hongjoong– mixed between some of them wanting to be in Hongjoong’s place while others professed wanting Seonghwa to be on their knees for them. 

A small laugh bubbled in his throat followed by a shaky moan, feeling his hips twitch as the brunette tried to play his game against him once more, timing the flicks of his tongue with Seonghwa’s pace.

If he could just get Seonghwa to fold a little bit, maybe he will get his reward a bit sooner and more sweetly than before. 

But, unfortunately for him, he could not have been more wrong. 

Suddenly, another hand threaded through his hair and held him to a complete stop. His eyes flickered up in an instant, nearly shrinking back at the joker-like smile that threaded across the camboy’s face, panting like a beast as he stared at him down. 

“I think we’re ready to go over our second rule.” Seonghwa leaned forward, uncaring about the yelp that left the boy and his breath ghosted over his face. Hongjoong peered at him through cracked open eyes, eyebrows furrowing from the pain.

“Never, ever, try to beat your owner at their own game. It just won’t end the way you think. You go the owner’s way, or no way at all.” He gritted out, releasing one section of his hair to slap his dick across Hongjoong’s face. The boy could only sit there in humiliation as he continued to be slapped across his cheeks, with Seonghwa degrading him. 

You think you run this game, huh? Do you think you’re the master? 

A pathetic slut like you? You could never get one over me. 

“You want it that badly?” He spat, gripping his chin and holding it up. 

Hongjoong wasn’t sure if answering would be the best option in this scenario, just as he wasn’t entirely clear on Seonghwa’s real feelings at the moment. 

“Speak.” He commanded, making Hongjoong whimper in response. 

“I-I” His voice quivered, crumbling like a cookie under Seonghwa’s intense gaze. His cheeks blazed when he felt himself twitch at the position he was in. 

“It’s okay. I get it. I understand.” Seonghwa spoke shortly, the chair creaking as he leaned back into it once more. With a kick of his foot, he closed the smallest gap between Hongjoong and the chair and tightened the grip of his calf and thigh around Hongjoong’s head.

Without warning, he pushed himself back into Hongjoong’s mouth and held him down, nearly squishing the brunette’s nose against his abdomen. 

“Take it then.”

Hongjoong’s throat struggled to remain lax as his eyes flew open, instinctively grabbing onto Seonghwa’s leg to support himself. His heart pounded in his ears as he tried to adjust his position underneath the man’s leg, only to find the elder tightening his hold on him. From one lookup and meeting his eyes, it was clear that he was not going to be able to get out of this easily. 

All the viewers could do was merely comment and spam donations in response to the scene in front of them. 

What Seonghwa forgot to mention to Hongjoong prior to their plan was that the donations would be read out loud. 

“Make him show us what’s in his mouth.” - $20

“I can practically see his tail wagging from here.” - $35

“God, I wish I could see it from closer up” - $20

His cheeks flushed bright red as he swallowed around his tip with each movement of his head, everything around him slowly becoming fuzzy in his head. He couldn’t think straight anymore– the only thing processing in his face was pleasing the man in front of him and this ring was still attached to him. 

It felt so deliciously good and painful. 

“G-God~” Seonghwa’s voice brought his mind somewhat back, realizing that at some point in his lust filled haze, that he had completely disregarded his appearance and demeanor– letting all of the drool pour from the corner of his lips alongside the filthy sounds of him slurping up every last bit of him into his mouth. 

He failed to notice the way Seonghwa’s body laxed more into the cushion of his chair and the thin coat of sweat that began to cover his body, and between his tensed, shaky thighs. 

That image alone drove Hongjoong closer to the edge. 

Keeping his eyes locked onto him, he rolled his shoulders back to get more comfortable in his position, dancing his fingertips against his outer thigh, letting him continue to maneuver his head faster and faster until he was practically singing for everyone. 

It all feels so good..

With one more shaky thrust upwards, Seonghwa sharply inhaled as Hongjoong’s mouth fell open for him without any command, watching himself shoot beads of cum all over the puppy’s soft, plump tongue. His eyebrows pinched up with a long shaky moan, eyes locked on the movement of his tongue across the slit, collecting every last bit.

“My good boy~” He practically cooed, yanking Hongjoong up by his collar into a messy kiss. 

His limbs wrapped lazily around Hongjoong’s body, mapping out every inch of his mouth with a firm hold onto his chin, moaning shamelessly. His free hand snakes down his body, forcing the brunette’s body to press closer to him, smirking against his lips at the sharp inhale that comes out when their cocks rub against each other. 

“Do you like it?” He breathes against his lips sweetly with a wide smile, only enough so that Hongjoong could hear. The boy only manages to nod before diving back in for more kisses, rutting against him desperately. 

Seonghwa breaks the kiss quickly with a chuckle, pushing Hongjoong’s face away whilst licking his lips. 

“I asked you a question.” Seonghwa speaks to him, cocking his head to the side.

And I wish you would take this damn ring off of me and just let me fuck you already– is what he would have said if he weren’t in this position right now. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire, his ears had the slightest ring to them that was just enough to drown out the continued ping sounds coming from the computer. 

All he wanted was to be given what he wanted. 

Just a little bit longer. Just follow his orders.

Hongjoong heaved out heavy breaths, eyes blown out as he brought his head back in front of the cocky camboy. 

“I like whatever you are willing to give to me.” He looked between his lips and his eyes, noticing the way Seonghwa’s pupils dilated at his words. 

The grip of his hands against his hips sent an unexpected moan out of Seonghwa’s mouth, unsure how to feel about the fact that his puppy, who was needily sucking him off a minute ago, was able to make him bend so easily, looking damn near ready to devour him at the slightest motion to do so. 

If he was being completely honest, he would have let him do it sooner if he wasn’t so hell bent on torturing the two of them and, in turn, everyone else. 

“So are you willing to give yourself to me? Let me make you feel good like you deserve?” He questioned. 

Everything he said seemed to be correct, if the way Seonghwa’s legs slid further open were anything to go by. But, before he could celebrate the success of his seduction, Seonghwa brushed his fingers against his neck, pulling him closer until his teeth grazed against his ear. 

“I want you hungry for me. And I don’t think you’re there yet.” 

And there was that disgustingly sweet tone again. 

Hongjoong bowed his head onto Seonghwa’s shoulder, nipping at the area and feeling the camboy’s hands roam wherever they could reach from this angle. 

“So, let’s play a little bit more.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Mm, you all have been so patient for me, I can see all of your– god your tongue feels so good– begging from here.” 

Seonghwa tried to continue speaking to his audience through fluttering lashes and a very clear flushed upper body. The rest of him, which had become slightly obscured due to the angle he was at, had found itself over the arm of the futon, securely and comfortably situated on top of a plush pillow. 

At the end of the futon, sitting comfortably on a small stool, Hongjoong buried his head between the camboy’s cheeks, staring at the curve of his lower back where he could imagine what his facial expressions must be with every sharp curve of his tongue and the subtle way it slipped out to lap at his balls before diving right back in. 

The shyness had long subsided by the time they made it over here, stripping more of Seonghwa’s clothing off as they bit and kissed at each other’s skin, that the sounds fell naturally from Hongjoong’s mouth– ranging between guttural groans and deep hums, matching the stifled moans that were threatening to fall from Seonghwa’s mouth. 

His fingers shook as he scrolled through the comments, eyes slowly becoming unfocused from the methodical tongue fucking. 

jbear_00: tell us how he feels for you. Is your precious puppy eating you well?

He barely finished reading the rest of the comment before his head dropped down, a quivering whimper forcing its way out from between his bite-swollen lips, eyes nearly rolling at the drag of his pierced tongue against his prostate.

“Don’t bow your head away from it now— All of our attention and to have every last one of us wanting you. Wanting to be inside of you and hear all of those slutty little moans come out for us. Aren’t we doing good for you, master?” Hongjoong baited him, all of his sadistic behavior he had been holding back flowing out of him at once— having him practically laughing at him.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as his thighs shook for the third time tonight, Hongjoong chuckling as he lapped over his hole messily, slurping noisily over it just to see the man’s body bow lower in feigned resistance.

“So join us~” He heaved out with a hum, lewdly spreading his cheeks apart as he ran three fingers over the spasming pucker, sure as anything that he could take them without even asking.

“In our desperate craving for release~”

“I-I don’t need you prep me- AH!” His eyes widened in an instant, unable to control the sounds that came out of his mouth, melded together in shock and pleasure from the delicious stretch of Hongjoong’s fingers. He looked back over his shoulder in slight disbelief, only to let out a small whimper from the eyes that met his. 

Hongjoong leaned himself as much as he could over Seonghwa’s back, eyes laser focused on with a deviant smile, kissing along his spine as he plunged his fingers at an inconsistent pace. The pads of his fingers ran along every edge inside of him, making a game out of deliberately skipping over his prostate to massage the area directly next to it. 

Was it a bit mean? Yes. But Seonghwa deserved it. 

“Have your way with him, Joong.” ~ $50

His eyes flickered upward, looking directly at the donation amount. His lips pulled up even further, adjusting himself to hold Seonghwa’s lower body downward, suddenly increasing the speed of his fingers to abuse the bundle inside of him, immediately erupting a slew of curses from the camboy. 

“Hm, why don’t you all tell me exactly what you want?” He beckoned, looking down at Seonghwa’s now shaking form, slyly rutting himself back against Hongjoong’s fingers. 

From the shine of the computer screen, it was clear now that Seonghwa had fallen right into the place that he was in– as much as he desperately tried to fight it. 

But they both knew exactly how Seonghwa was, the side of himself that he didn’t dare to show to the audience. The side of him that Hongjoong had seen more than enough to know that he wasn’t going to be able to last or hold on much longer once he pushed him a bit more. 

Perfect. 

A simple sharp tug of his pink locks had Seonghwa’s face, flushed with dribbles of drool running down, exposed completely to the audience. 

“You’re being rude, Hwa. You should look at the people who have been waiting so long to see you like this.” He taunted, bringing his lips closer to his mouth as his fingers curled upward. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” 

“Please.” Seonghwa’s eyes rolled shut, pushing himself back quickly against his fingers as he looked back at him again, a blissed out smile crossing his face as he nodded at him. 

The two of them barely waited for the audience to process what was going on before the ring was ceremoniously pulled off of Hongjoong with a deep chested groan. Seonghwa adjusted his position, letting his head rest to the side– still within the view of the audience as he winked at them. 

“Ruin him, Hongjoong.” ~ $50

“God, this is gonna be so messy.” ~$70

“Make him forget his own name.” ~ $100

“With pleasure.” Hongjoong heaved out, gritting his teeth at the way Seonghwa’s hips swayed side to side to entice him. 

It took him tightening every muscle in his body to keep himself from immediately cumming at the walm tightness that surrounded him, mixed with the whorish moans that left Seonghwa’s mouth. 

He felt himself pulsing inside of the man, letting out a shaky breath when the boy clenched around him. 

The angle alone from the camera was driving him insane as he started to rock at a steady pace, noticing the way that Seonghwa’s fingers curled around the fabric of the futon, trying to ground himself in any way possible as he wasted no time pushing himself back to meet Hongjoong halfway. 

“F-Fuck, you’re so t-thick!” Seonghwa’s voice barely came out, his bottom lip quivering at the affirmed hold to his hips. The stretch and burn of every thrust had him nearly gasping, completely forgetting about those on the other side of the computer, watching him pathetically whine. 

He looked so beautiful like this, exactly how everyone would want him to look. 

His mouth dropped open with cracked eyes, only seeing through his blurry vision the way Hongjoong was moving him back and forth against his cock– only noticing half way through that his hands had moved away, growling as he watched Seonghwa. 

The wanton look on his face melted away effortlessly, smiling wide. 

“Look at how much he likes it~” He breathed out, sliding his fingers into his mouth and ignoring the mess he was making on his pillow sheets as he slid himself all the way down on his cock before pulling back, humming as the tip got caught on his rim. 

He kept his motions fluid, alternating swiftly between bouncing himself quickly and slowing himself down, feeling his movements suddenly come to a stop when Hongjoong’s hand came down on his cheek. 

“AH!” 

He felt a sharp bite to the middle of his back, body arching as another hit came to his cheek.

“Stop being a fucking brat or I’ll make you choke on it.” 

“Mm~, that sounds nice- S-Shit!!” 

Two forceful hands curled around his shoulders and roughly yanked him back against him, completely ignoring the escalation of Seonghwa’s screaming moans as he chased the powerful release that was rapidly approaching with every thrust. One hand snaked around to the camboy’s throat, squeezing it tightly in his hold. 

“H-Hong..!”

“Shut the fuck up and you better not let anything spill out.” He growled into his ear as a wide smirk crossed his face. He bit down on Seonghwa’s shoulder as he fucked his cum up into him, sluring obscenities into his skin.

You like that? You like your slutty hole being filled up? 

You were waiting for this weren’t you? You were just waiting for someone to make a mess of you.

Tell them you like it. 

“I do!! I like it~” Seonghwa brokenly cried out, tone falling into a high pitch whine as he shot ribbon upon ribbon onto his pillow, some even landing onto the futon sheet. He fell forward once Hongjoong let him go, his blurry blue eyes rolled up to the camera with a dazed smile. 

The top donation was lined at the top, with pink and purple bows and sparkles lined around the border of the banner. 

“You’re the sexiest of all time” - msoong_998: $350

Hongjoong spread Seonghwa’s cheeks apart, cursing under his breath as he slowly pulled out, immediately grabbing the camera to film his backside. 

The camboy helped himself with keeping his cheeks spread as he let everything spill down his balls in a blob onto the pillow and the arm of the futon. The brunette helped himself to sliding his fingers inside to scoop some of it out, chuckling at the sensitive whine he received in response before moving the camera back in front of Seonghwa, noticing his mouth was already open for him. 

He swirled his tongue around the digits meticulously with heated eyes on the camera and, in turn on his puppy, before he kissed his fingertips.

“Thank you for watching~ ♡”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“..ello?”

“Hello! Earth to Seonghwa!”

In an instant, he was back at his university campus, sitting around the picnic table with his friends, almost completely forgetting that they were asking him something before his brain bullied him for however long he was zoning out for. 

And he hoped to god Julie wouldn’t see how hard he was from here. 

“S-Sorry.” He lightly excused, clearing his throat while lowering the screen of his computer. “What was the question again?”

“We were asking you what you thought about the cam guy? Who do you think he is?” Julie pestered, pointing his arm with impatience. 

Seonghwa looked back over the photo, cocking his head to the side as he looked back up at his friends with a small chuckle. 

“I don’t know. But whoever it is, it’s none of our business. It’s their life, they can do whatever they want.” 

The three of them nodded, with Giselle’s eyes lingering on Seonghwa a bit longer before eventually dropping it, perking at her friend that was making his way across campus. She called out to him, waving when he stopped to look in her direction. 

Seonghwa looked over his shoulder with him and Hongjoong immediately making eye contact. Although it was short lived, he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face as the brunette’s face got red, instantly bolting his way towards the school parking lot. 

“What was that about?” Giselle’s partner questioned with a confused look. 

“Not sure.” Seonghwa responded as he watched the small man hop into his car. “But he’s very cute.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @atiny-piratequeen @jacksons-goddess-gaia @kimnamshiks @little-lazuli @atiny-dazzlinglight @catnipacid

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . ** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

[theminecraftbee]

you know, there are a lot of posts about how transitioning as an adult is like going through puberty all over again. and I’m not medically transitioning (at least not yet, maybe one day), so I don’t know if I ever expected to exactly experience that. after all, my hormones are at normal adult levels for someone on birth control. but no, some of the stuff I experience does make me feel like a teenager awkwardly becoming an adult again, actually.

see, I’m attending a friend’s wedding, and I need new formalwear for it (protip: it is generally frowned upon to wear a wedding dress to someone else’s wedding, and that’s the last formalwear I purchased). and I just… really didn’t want to wear a dress, so I went to go get a suit. and I didn’t know how to get any of the required clothes for it and had to have a salesperson help me figure out how dress shirts work and nervously stood there while getting shown how to try stuff on and it really did feel like I was a lost teenager, despite being, you know, almost twenty-six.

but also: I own a three-piece suit now! it’s grey! it looks pretty good on me! I even got a blue tie with bees on it! so it was worth the temporary embarrassment of suddenly realizing I don’t know how men’s formalwear sizes work and, oh god, why are there so many variations of “white dress shirt” what does this mean.

and I figure as I very slowly work up the confidence to be out more irl there will be more and more moments like this, and I’ll lament the fact I didn’t do all this stuff as an actual teenager, but as weird and scary as it is, so far, it’s been worth it.

[melrosing]

anyway in an absolutely wild turn of events I think I’m free of my hideous job and like. substantially richer for it??? lmao 2023 you really owed me

[undyinglantern]

Nier genuinely was and to a large extent still is one of my favorite characters but I do think part of my obsession used to be bc I was trying to now think of 6 as much bc at the time I had a crew member and friend who was really into shipping him with 7 to an unavoidable extent that I was uncomfortable with but there was technically nothing wrong with so I was being quiet abt it for the longest time that I think I built up an unhealthy resentment over

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@superlegend216 @skyslowalking @germcana @the1nonlyariana @mymultiveres @kiiyomei @chenslucy @rafeyslamb @rosezza @runningfrom2am @kneelarmhstrung

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Touch of Madness

Logan Howlett X girlfriend!reader

Summary: Logan comes to you after being away, and all he wants is your touch, and he knows just how to get on your good side. This is just porn without plot.

Takes place in the same universe as Too Sweet but can be read as standalone

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, couch sex, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, the claws make an appearance (I have a thing for his claws okay), Logan is obsessed with his girl, fluffy relationship, established relationship

WC: 3.9k

A/N: how did I make this longer than too sweet when it was supposed to be a Drabble. Hello idk how to write short shit. But like hello yall are so awesome? I appreciate all the love yall have given my first Logan fic. I also have an older Logan fic in the works but that one has plot so it’ll be a minute before its out. For now here this <3

He couldn’t take it anymore. You were driving him mad. It’s not like he deserved your anger. Not fully anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was gone this long. He had been thinking about you all week, about your soft lips, about the warmth of your thighs, about your sweet moans only for his ears to hear. And all he wanted was to pull you into his arms and take you, over and over, until you begged him to stop. 

But no. 

You were being childish. That’s what he called it anyway. 

“Sweet girl,” he called after you, like a puppy following close behind you as you strided around your apartment. He knew you were doing it on purpose, the excuse of having to do chores so you could elongate his torture. The way you so innocently looked back at him made him clench his jaw. “C’mon.” 

“Don’t sweet girl me, Logan. I told you, I’m busy.” You sassed him, huffing as you kept walking, finding the most insignificant of chores to waste your time with. He rolled his eyes at you, eyebrows furrowed into this perpetual gaze of annoyance. 

The truth was, you were aching for him, your thighs warm and your skin tingling solely at the thought of him taking you to do as he pleased. But, if there was something in this world you could be, it was petty. And if you had to suffer a whole week without him, he could suffer for an hour, even if it was also at your expense. Truly, you almost enjoyed the annoyance in his face, the sharpness in his voice, him damn near groaning behind you every time you evaded him under the excuse of needing to get some dumb chore done. 

“You’re killin’ me here, sugar.” He actually groaned this time, his jaw set. You stopped in your tracks and turned your head to look at him, shooting him a pointed look. “I said I was sorry.”

“Serves you right. And I don’t care if you’re sorry. You haven’t called me in a week.” Your words were sharp with bitterness and it dawned on him. That was why you were upset. A slight bit of humor tugged at the corner of his lips and he breathed out a laugh. You stared at him with blank eyes, you weren’t laughing. 

“C’mon, is that seriously why you’re upset? You know I was out of the state.” He tried to reason with you. Charles had entrusted him and Storm with finding a certain mutant that was causing havoc, three states over. And Logan had very much underestimated how long this would take them. So here he was, after a whole week away, damn near begging you to let him touch you. “It wasn’t like I wanted to go anyway.”

No, he would much rather be with his sweet girl, one that was being particularly difficult and making him suffer when all he wanted to do was hold you, to feel the warmth of your soft skin. 

He stepped into your personal space, his intoxicating scent almost making you give in. You counted to five in your head, eyes closed to remind yourself that you were, indeed, angry at him. 

“So? You got a phone, don’t you? You could’ve called me.” You huffed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a small pout, Logan had to hold back the urge to laugh at you. “You can’t disappear for a week and expect to come here and do as you please.” 

You shot him a sharp glare, he just stared at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden shot of confidence. His sweet girl was talking back to him? Giving him attitude? He tilted his head at you, almost as if to dare you to walk away from him.  

There was a bit of malice in your eyes as you gave him one last look before you walked away, thinking of what other useless chore you could add to continue his torture. But Logan had other thoughts in his head. If you weren’t going to behave, he would happily put you in your place. 

“Hey, c’mere or I’m gonna bring you here myself.” He called after you, the strings of his sanity hanging on by a thread, just waiting for you to tug at the last strand. He knew you too well. You turned your head, eyes big in feign innocence and you tilted your head at him in defiance. 

“Make me then.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. In hindsight you should have known better, but you also wanted to see just what could happen if you pushed him hard enough. You saw the way his eyes flashed with malice, he stared you down, and in that moment you remembered just how small you were compared to him. “Oh fuck.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through you, but it wasn’t like you could go outrun him, especially not in your tiny apartment. He caught you, though he did purposely chase you into your living room, simply because he wanted to get you going, pumped with adrenaline. You squealed as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you against his chest. His sharp canines nipped at that one spot on your neck that had you whimpering. 

“You goin’ somewhere, sugar?” He husked, his lips hot on your cheek. You couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, eyes closed. God, you missed him. 

“Mhm, still mad at you.” You mumbled, barely hanging on to your silly grudge. A chuckle rumbled in Logan’s chest. 

“That’s alright. I don’t need you to be happy with me to do what I want to do.” He inhaled, breathing your sweet scent, and he spoke as he threw you over his shoulder. “Just need you to look pretty while I do it.” 

You weren’t complaining about your position, you were in fact, bursting into giggles as he effortlessly carried you to the couch, though your giggles turned into another squeal when he smacked his hand flat against your ass. Logan had a grin on his lips as he tossed you on the couch, wasting no time in spreading your legs apart to settle between them.

He leaned down, gripping the armrest above your head, caging you in as he leaned down. He brushed his nose against yours, sighing softly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Kiss me.” The words rumbled in his chest with a groan, his primal needs overcoming his senses. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You laced your fingers in his hair, pulling into a hard and heated kiss.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as he shrugged off his flannel, tossing it somewhere on the floor, his belt soon following the same fate. You tried to sit up against the armrest, but you quickly realized Logan had other plans deep in his perverted mind. With a hold of your ankle he dragged you down on the couch, your back flat on the surface as you looked up at him with big eyes.

“Stay just like that, pretty.” He spoke, pressing another heated kiss to your mouth before tugging off your sweatpants, followed by your panties. He tossed them somewhere over his shoulder, somewhere you would have to run around searching for later. But you couldn’t give a fuck about that. All you could focus on was the heat forming between your legs as Logan settled between them.

His eyes met with yours one last time before he was diving in between your warm thighs. His tongue licked long stripes from your hole up to your clit, circling around the sensitive nerve before going back down. Over and over until your soft gasps and sighs of pleasure turned into moans. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open to do as he pleased. One leg hung over the back of the couch and the other was thrown over his shoulder, and he effortlessly held you down as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. He was like an animal, insatiable as he took you on his tongue.

“Oh fuck. Shit—Logan—” Your eyes rolled back, lips parted as you whined. You gripped the back of the couch, soft twitches taking over you each time his nose brushed your clit.

It was no secret that Logan found pleasure in giving you yours, and he ate you like it. Grunts and hums rumbled in his chest as his tongue found your clit again, and he reveled in the particularly high pitched cry you let out when he slipped two fingers into your wet core. 

“Needed to taste you so fuckin’ bad. I thought about it all week.” He spat into your clit, groaning at the way your tight walls squeezed his fingers. He could only imagine what you would do when it was his cock stretching your walls. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, fingers lacing in his hair as he lapped at your clit. You wished you could hold your pleasure, rivet in it for just a little bit longer, but the way he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot, the way his tongue was so relentless on your swollen clit, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh my—”

Your words never left your throat, chest pounding with sheer adrenaline as your release coated his face and fingers. It was sudden, it left you breathless as your thighs twitched with aftershock. Your eyes were wide and glossy in shock as you shuddered with the remnants of your orgasm. It wasn’t until you pathetically attempted to drag yourself away that Logan stopped. You were shaking, gasping softly when he pulled his fingers from you, but you all but cried when he licked at your wet pussy, getting a taste of you.

“Logan, please I can’t—” Your voice was shaky as you tried to move away from his face, he chuckled at you, pressing his face against your inner thigh before he crawled up to your face.

“‘Is okay. You did good.” He kissed your lips, his large hands holding your face as he let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned, clenching around nothing already in anticipation of him filling you. “You wanna stop?”

“No, no, no! Need you, please!” You were quick to protest, wrapping your legs around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere. You couldn’t really stop him from doing anything, but he found it endearing that you tried. He bumped his nose against yours, lips pulled up into a tiny smile.

“Need me where, hm?” He opened his eyes to look at you, and truly how he didn’t bend you over the nearest flat surface the second he saw you was beyond his comprehension. You looked so perfect like this, underneath him, clinging to him. His sweet girl. He didn’t know what it was about you, but from the moment he met you he was done for. You drove him absolutely mad and now he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Inside me, Logan. Please.” You sighed out, face flushed with embarrassment. He smoothed out the frown lines on your forehead with a tiny kiss. A sweet gesture in comparison to what he was about to do to you.

In one swift motion he had you bent over the armrest, with your ass to him and your chest flat against the armrest. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he pulled off his white tank top. Your glazed eyes fawned over each perfect muscle in his body, taking particular interest in the veins that popped in his arm when he flexed them as he ridded himself of his jeans. How you ended up with a man so incredibly hot, you had no idea, but you were thanking the Gods for that.

“I need to be inside you, too.” He rasped into your ear, groaning in ecstasy as he sank himself into your needy cunt. Your jaw fell open he filled you, inch by inch. He pulled your t-shirt over your head, instantly attaching his lips to your shoulder as he rutted his hips against your ass. 

His pace was grueling from the start, grip tight on your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. A little reminder of his intoxicating presence. You braced yourself on the armrest, sounds of pleasure leaving your lips almost instantly. He pressed his forehead against your cheek, the thick hairs on his chest leaving a tingling sensation across your back as he held you flush against his chest. Heavy breaths filled your ears as you so desperately reached to touch him, any of him. Your trembling fingers found the sound of his face and he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“This what you needed, hm? Maybe I should fuck sweet pussy more often? Give it more attention?” He grunted the words in your ears, lips pressed against your cheek as a sheen layer of sweat began to coat your soft skin. You whimpered and nodded weakly, your cunt clenching him with excitement. He smirked softly, his hand coming up to lace through your hair. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet girl?”

Logan held your face down as his hips drilled into you, each delicious drag of his cock bringing you closer and closer to your sweet release. God, you needed it. All you could do was moan in response.

“Y-yes! God, yes. Please Logan.” You whined out shamelessly, eyes rolled back into your head. Logan hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple, the gentle gesture ironic considering just what he was doing to you. He said nothing as he sneaked his free hand to the front of your body, rough fingers rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive clit. Your jaw fell open, your hand flying to grip his wrist. Your thighs clenched around his hand, whining as his cock  brushed that one spot that had you seeing white. “Logan—”

Your voice was a warning, but he welcomed it. He flicked his wrist without mercy as he rolled his hips, his words only encouraging you to fall apart for him.

“Come for me, pretty girl. You can do that, can’t you? I know you want to.” He let go of your hair to turn your head to meet his eager lips. He happily swallowed the pathetic sounds that left your mouth as he flicked at your clit, his cock hitting so impossibly deep you were left trembling as your release seeped around him. 

Logan held you down on his cock, his thumb playing with your clit until you were gasping and your nails dug into the skin of his wrist. He kissed along your jaw as his hips stilled for just a second, your body still shaking underneath him.

“You okay?” He asked softly, grabbing your face to look at him. You looked at him with hooded eyes and nodded weakly, barely lifting yourself off the couch.

“Yeah. ‘m okay.” 

Logan tilted his head at you, an eyebrow raised with amusement as he leaned down to leave a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Perfect.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling out his cock to manhandle you onto your back before he was sinking himself into you again. Your slick walls welcomed him perfectly, like this was the only place he belonged, but he wasn’t complaining. If he could die, he would die happily buried deep in your cunt.

“Oh, God, Logan.” You gasped, thighs twitching as you looked down to find where his thick cock is filling you, splitting you open over and over. Your jaw fell open as you watched him grab one of your ankles and he held it up by his shoulder, spreading you open for him to dig himself deeper and deeper within you tight walls. 

“Look at me, baby.” He groaned, chest heavy as a thin layer of sweat covered his muscled body. You did your best to comply, you looked up, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure as he damn near folded your body in half. Your knees were pressed against your chest as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “Yes, there she is. My pretty girl. I missed you.” 

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, and also at the sting of his cock rapidly bringing you to your third release. The way he brought your legs to his shoulders, he sunk himself so deep within your walls you swore you felt him in your stomach. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

“Missed you too, Logan.” You brought your lips up to his, eyebrows furrowed into an expression of pure arousal as you gripped his hair, clinging to him for dear life.

Your release was quick and sudden, hitting you without a warning the second Logan pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You were just so sensitive, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed. You clutched on to his large bicep as you spilled around his cock. The way your tight walls squeeze him made him groan, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on chasing his own release while fucking you through your own.

“Look at you, you’re just so good for me. Fuck it, I’ll just take you with me next time.” Groans fell freely from his soft lips as he braced himself on the back of the couch with one hand, and the other held the armrest above your head. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours as your sweet praises and chants of his name filled his ears. 

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was animalistic, a deep growl as he coated your insides with his hot release. The metallic sound of sharp claws filled your ears once more as his claws unsheathed themselves from his knuckles, one on the back of the couch and the other just above your head, again. You gasped his name with a soft laugh, though you would be lying if you said it didn’t drive you feral when his claws accidentally came out. You brought a hand to his face as he pulled his claws out of your couch, the sharp metal once again hiding themselves within his knuckles with a sound. He held himself up on his forearm as his head fell to your neck.

“I’ll pay for it.” He muttered a chuckle into your neck, leaving a soft kiss to your jaw. You laughed, draping a hand over your forehead, breathing in deeply as you felt your mixed releases seep around his cock and drip onto the couch. He should just buy you a new couch, he thought.

“Wanna buy me a new body while you’re at it?” You teased him, already sensing you would have bruises and your thighs would ache for days.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern filled his voice as he lifted his head to scan your face for any discomfort as his hand came up to graze the thigh draped over his waist. You scrunched up your nose at him and shook your head.

“Of course not hun. Don’t be silly.” You traced your fingers over his face and gave him a lopsided smile.

“I did miss you, for the record.” 

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I missed you too Logan.”

“Lemme clean you up sugar.” He sneaked a kiss to your cheek as he untangled himself from you, much to your protest.

You whined at the emptiness he left you as he stood up. Though you did quite enjoy the sight of his perfect ass he walked off to find something to clean his mess with. When he came back, he had a small towel and he cleaned you without protest, he left warm kisses on your face as you talked to him about your day. He ultimately tossed the towel aside and slipped on his boxers, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his still hard cock, but you needed a break. You didn’t let him leave though, reaching to grab his wrist with soft eyes

“Wanna watch a movie? I miss watching movies with you.” You mumbled, voice soft as you looked at him with pleading eyes. He laughed softly at you, you made it sound like you hadn’t seen him in a month.

But, how could he ever say no to his sweet girl?

“Mhm, put on somethin’ .” He gently moved you so that he was lying behind you on the couch, his big arms wrapped around you as he held you against his chest. Though you were still completely naked, you paid no mind to it. It actually felt kinda nice to be so close to him and feel the warmth of his body in such an intimate way.

He covered you both with the throw blanket you always kept over the couch for days exactly like this, for those days you wanted to feel warm and close with him on the couch. He ignored the three holes where stuffing was coming out of the ripped fabric as he pulled the soft blanket up to your chest and as you happily settled in his arms, clicking away at the TV. He would buy you a new couch, just as he bought you new pillows, and new blankets. And anything you asked him to, really.

Logan wasn’t used to domestic, the soft touches, cuddling, but he liked doing it with you. He craved it actually, probably just as much as he craved the sex.

“Next time you’re away that long, just give me a call? Please? So that I’m not worried sick thinking you died.” You finally said, the whole reason for such intense feelings merely an hour ago finally surfacing. He laughed softly at how ridiculous you sounded. He technically can’t die, he thought.

“I wouldn’t.. I can’t…Y’know what? You’re right. I’m still getting used to this whole having a girl thing. But I'll do better, yeah? Don’t need you to be mad, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, settling his face on your neck as he attempted to pay attention to whatever horror movie you decided to watch today. “But if you’re gonna let me fuck you like that when you’re mad, get mad more often.” 

“Logan.” You scolded him, nudging his ribs softly as a warm blush coated your cheeks, knowing you wouldn’t hurt him, but it still made him chuckle. 

He had to admit, he lasted way longer than he did last time. He lasted almost halfway through the movie before the feeling of his cock sitting hot and heavy in his boxers became apparent to him again. He inhaled your scent softly, his lips ghosting over your neck as he rolled his hips softly against your ass. And while you did try to protest, whining that you wanted to get through one movie with him, the sting of his cock was better than any movie in this world. The credits rolled, the soundtrack now drowned out by the sound of your sweet moans. Logan would be damned if he let you leave the warmth of his body for even just one second tonight. Or maybe ever. 

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[grabattheseballsss]

141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand.